#bliss; head canons

[musemuseum]

Muses within the 2SLGBTQI+ community:

Bisexual 1/?

Aiden Philips (preference for men)

Napoleon Bronswyn

Diego Martinez

Barron Quartermain

Osiris Gold

Hunter Green

Kai Yukiyama (preference for men)

Alaska Jones

Cherish Kane (preference for women)

Emmett Van Horne

Aspen Armstrong

Astoria Campbell

Avalon Foley (preference for men)

Avery Cross

Benji Markland

Casper Worthington

Briar Starr

Bliss Frey

Colby Shade

Cooper Tobin

Damien Cavanaugh

Declan Nichols

Dominic Hall

Eevee Grant

Fern Thibideau

Finnley Carrigan

Ian Stanfield (preference for women)

Ivy Fairaday

Jack Starling (preference for women)

Jericho Hall

[diamonds-place]

Headcanons for the clan members taking care of Reader!MC for your enjoyment (also because I was really sick) (T^T)

note: it is a bit less on the magical side, but plenty of wholesome vibes and fluff <3

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Yakumo

Of course the poor snake male wife is worried sick about you. He was on the edge of tears at the news of your illness (but lots of things make him cry.) Yaku is determined to get you better, this means you're staying in bed, staying hydrated, and getting your strength back. He just loves you too much to leave your side and just wants to get you better. Yaku is such a sweet caretaker, you wish you could be sick for a little while longer.

Edmond

The ever so stoic vice captain does have a soft side for you, and he often shows it in his actions (while trying to hide it in his face.) He doesn't have much experience in care taking, but he wants the best for you so he researches all he can about the illness that's affecting you. It's endearing the lengths he's willing to go for you to get better, especially with his other obligations. If you tell him he'll probably just brush it off and say it's his duty, but we all know what he really means by that.

Olivine

At the news of you coming down with something, your beloved idol priest was quick to act. Being an older sibling, he knows a few family remedies that can fix you right up. Not to mention the bedtime stories that just warm the soul and soothe the ache n pains. He would be a heavenly caretaker, at your beck and call, anyone would give up their firstborn to have him look after them. Oli just wants you to get better and hates seeing you unwell. As long as he can help you, he's content and happy.

Quincy

With a sigh, he pats you on the head and tells you it'll be alright. He is probably the least worried, not because he doesn't care, but because he knows you're tough. You're in good, capable (and big) hands. Since Quincy has lived in the forest for all his life, he'll know a few herbal remedies to get you feeling right as rain in no time. He has a more gentle aura about him when you're welling unwell, probably because he cares about you more than he has you believe. And don't forget little Topper is going to give you some snuggles too!

Garu/Karu

The poor puppy, Garu didn't know what to do with himself. Garu's poor human is feeling unwell, he was so sad he couldn't leave your side, and I mean it, he never left your bedside. Making sure to protect you from any danger that could harm you while you're so vulnerable. Karu, on the other hand, is frustrated that his human slave is so weak as to get sick. But, he doesn't hold it against you for too long, partially because Garu would be mad at him, but mostly because he just wants to see you get better. A few times a day, they leave little get well soon gifts on your bed.

Kuya

The old fox isn't completely jaded, at least not to you. Kuya wasn't particularly concerned when he heard you were sick, but who else was going to take care of you? He'll look after you for as long as he wants, mostly because of seeing you at such a low point scratches a certain itch. It's definitely not because he was worried half to death and truth is, you mean the world to him... That's not the reason at all. But, he will gladly entertain you as you get well, and seeing you smile is enough to lift his spirits, reassuring him you'll make a swift recovery.

Blade

The sweet, precious, and doting e-droid will not have you sick. Not on his watch! Blade makes it his mission to get you better as soon as possible. He tries out a manner of things from at home remedies he researched to singing to just listening to your needs. He even leads you a cute stuffed toy so that you can sleep easy. He just cares about his precious darling so much and is just so excited to collect cute things when you get better.

Dante

Mr. High-and-Mighty isn't so untouchable, specifically when it comes to you and your well-being. Unfortunately, he can't shove all his duties aside for you, but he can keep you close as your health is monitored. When he isn't there beside you, his attendants are there to provide you with anything you could possibly want. A glass of water, your favorite food, or anything else you could ask for. The days Dante is there, he'll fulfill most of your wishes, just don't push him too much or else he'll start complaining. Dante doesn't really mean what he says though because his actions speck louder.

Rei

When Rei heard that you were sick, he was a bit surprised but unfazed (maybe he might have something to do with it, who knows.) The curious owl loves his experiments, but he would prefer doing them when you're completely conscience and not a few seconds away from puking for guts out. He does have some medicine at his disposal that will help with your symptoms, as well as won't have any side effects. Just rest, relax, and you'll be fine under his care. He'll even let you snuggle with Father if you want, just don't squeeze him too tight, or you'll mess up his feathers.

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[jencsi]

What she says- I'm fine.

What she means- in rewatching S15, it becomes more and more obvious how Finn's fate was sealed before the episodes even aired. Shaw's presence was a set up from the very beginning, not just in aiding the GHK but in luring Finn to her demise. Once Winthrop used him, he disposed of him, leaving the path to Finn 100% clear and unobstructed because of course the one time she obeys Russell and goes home after seeing Shaw die in front of her, the one time she listens and follows a rule, and she's alone in that condo, well, the rest is history.

[thrushppelt]

Unreasonably upset I have work tomorrow and I am already pushing it going to bed at the time I ammmmmmMMMMM

[tteokdoroki]

˗ˏˋ 💎  JJK MEN AS OVERPROTECTIVE GIRL DADS gojo, sukuna & geto .ᐟ

⋆˙ ᯓ★  about ! “a little girl’s first love will always be her father." three scenarios in which the daughters of three jjk men introduce their boyfriends to their fathers. ( 5.7K )

warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. video banner. not beta read. sfw, fluff, angst if you squint, no-curses!au, mentions of pregnancy, children and babies, the children have no names, some family issues, married life, domestic bliss, husband + father!jjk men, mother + fem!reader.

sonic says ! hello everyone !! i wanted to try my hand at some head canons and scenarios, i couldn’t get this idea out of my head so put a pause on working on kinktober to write it lol!! hope you enjoy <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ 

ᯓ★ SATORU GOJO:

before meeting you, satoru gojo had never been fond of a family dinner. 

in his childhood home — they were cold and quiet, pockets of clattering cutlery would cut through painstaking silence and distract from the loud emptiness of the seat at the head of the table where his own father was supposed to be. his mother, often solemn and sunken in the shoulders, never spoke. never cooked and slipped small bites to her son in between preparation or steps.

they had staff for that, they had staff for everything.

to keep the household clean and together. to keep him fed and breathing. to keep him alive. all requirements felt almost clinical, the environment in which he was raised almost like the white walls of a hospital — without a trace of love needed for a child like satoru gojo needed to thrive. 

even if he had all the money in the world, he hadn’t a drop of love. he wasn’t ever sure if he was capable of the warm and fuzzy emotion, didn’t know if it was something his heart could ever open up to — sealed in by layers of cool, cold concrete and cement. kept in a safe without a key. at least until you miraculously found it and melted the thick layers of ice blocking satoru’s veins. you brought back colour to his cheeks and light to his eyes, taking up the space in his heart where his family had left a swirling, black void. 

to satoru, you were a saving grace. his everything… and he swore he’d never be like his father; who left his wife unhappy and empty, like a abandoned shell. he promised; he’d do much better than his parents ever did. especially when you found out you were pregnant, even more so when your little girl came into the world with plentiful white curls and lashes, screaming at the top of her teeny tiny lungs. 

at the time, you were sure you’d never seen satoru gojo so in love ( and so teary eyed too ) — but you knew what becoming a parent meant to him. what it meant for the new life you now shared.

but now, having met you and married you and created life with you — satoru had found a new appreciation for family dinners. they were a sacred event, a special time for him to keep up with the lives of his children and let them know he was there. present. 

it wasn’t a time to be imposed on and certainly not by meddlesome boyfriends brought home by sixteen year old daughters.

“so kid, what’s your 401K look like?” 

satoru carries a look of disdain, his nostrils flared, blue eyes narrowed and perfect pink lips curled in an unhappy frown. 

the young boy opposite him, a little scrawny and awkward, shrinks underneath the white haired man’s intense gaze — if you squinted, you could probably see him shaking like a little leaf in the intense wind from across the table “um… i don’t know?”

“hear that little guy? no 401K… how’s he meant to take care of your sister. yeah, yeah.

you’re right, i’ll give him a chance,” he mutters to the baby boy snoozing happily in his arms under his breath, engaging in a one sided conversation before switching his focus back to his daughter’s…sorry excuse for a partner. “okay then… finances, clearly not. academics and common sense —“ pausing,  the white haired father of two clicks his tongue, pushing it into the soft flesh on the inside of his cheek as if to feel his next words out in his mouth. “do you even know what a bouquet of flowers is, kid? a corsage? gojo women don’t play about their flowers, yanno.” 

“sir—“

without giving the boy a chance to speak, gojo drops his intrusive gaze under the table and back up again — pointing an accusatory finger at his little girl’s partner. “your top button’s undone and your shoe laces are untied. you might wanna fix that! if you care about my daughter’s safety!” he turns his nose up all petulant like a picky toddler being forced to eat his veggies, he even sticks his tongue out for good measure. gojo’s eccentric movements nearly jostle his sleepy son in place. the baby whines and gurgles a little bit, only soothed by a pat to his back from dad — who repositions him to snooze over his shoulder.

in a silent, quieter gesture, satoru uses two fingers to point between his eyes and the boy’s. almost as if to say ‘i’m watching you.’

catching him in the act, the eldest gojo daughter bounces into the room carrying plates of steaming hot food, exhaling with worm down patience evident in her body language. “daddy please, you don’t act like this normally. stop messing around.” rolling her eyes, she sets the dishes down, freeing up her hand to smack the back of her dad’s clearly empty skull. just like her mother.

“well sooooorrry for being a good dad and caring about your wellbeing! who you’re dating! who you’re bringing into our bloodline!” gojo rebuttals with petish grunts, unable to cradle the back of his injured head like he does with his son.  

and as if by magic, you, his beautiful and loving and gorgeous wife appear with dinner plates in hand to double down on a scolding the white haired man. amused, you also swat at your husband’s head and tut down at him. “satoru? what are you doing?” there’s something about the way you tease and tell gojo off that always makes his heart race, even after all these years of marriage and raising his kids. he loves you, his family so much. he almost keens into your touch like a pathetic dog, until your daughter starts gagging at the sight — slipping into her set. you were supposed to be watching the baby. not interrogating the poor kid.” 

“we’re having a heart to heart, babe,” gojo swoons, clearing his throat as his head bobs in the direction of his daughter’s boyfriend. “jimbob here was just telling me about his 3.4% grade point average.”

“it’s hiro sir! and uh… 3.5% sir.” the boyfriend in question chirps shyly.

you know that your husband feels… almost threatened by another man entering your daughter’s life — they’ve been practically inseparable since the moment she first opened her eyes. to give up the duty of loving and protecting her and pass it onto someone else is probably what scares him the most. “that’s pretty good hun!” you comment absentmindedly, hoping to pull satoru away from the conversation.

“no it’s not! our daughter has a 4.0%.”

“s-she was failing in math, i was tutoring her.” the boyfriend hopefully interjects again, whispering next when the baby stirs at the dining table. “i hope that makes up for my 401K sir. i-i also work part time to save for college and—!” 

“haha — no i wasn’t!�� the younger gojo girl tenses in place, elbowing her date in the ribs not so discretely from under the table. it’s this interaction that makes her father smile, only briefly, before you scowl his way.

“i thought you told them we met at a tutoring session.” 

“you were failing?” you raise a brow, taking your own seat beside her father. 

“see! this boy failure is a bad influence on our daughter!” a glare settles on the slopes of satoru’s angelic features, mirrored by your child’s unimpressed expression across the table. in his arms, your youngest fusses about as if he senses the mounting tension at the table — earning a bounce or two from daddy, who turns your way all matter-of-factly like. “see, this why he doesn’t have a 401K”

“why would a teenager have a 401k, satoru!” comes your exasperated sigh.

“i had one when i was his age.” satoru shoots back and the kid sinks nervously in his seat. the poor boy looks as though he wants to disappear, squirming in place like he’s no better than a worm on a bait hook — it’s torture being interrogated and inspected by someone so close to the person you love most, but even he knows how important satoru’s approval is to your daughter.

she wouldn’t say it now, not when she was all grown up and finding her way out in the world — but she idolised gojo, all of her fondest memories are painted in his colours. shades of sapphire and azure like his vivid eyes, snowy white from his hair that almost rivals the clouds in the sky — the backdrop to days spent riding her father’s shoulders through the big wide world, racing down grassy green hills and wasting the hours away. she wouldn’t admit it here, today, but she never wanted to leave those memories. leave her father behind in her youth — it was written on each dip and curve and highlight on her youthful face, she wanted her father to move into this next phase of life with her too.

“daddy, you were a trust fund baby with shit grades and no prospects until you met mum,” she huffs but her words hold no malice, even if the sass brims over the edge of her tone like an emotionally charged, overflowing glass of water. you’d chide her for cursing — but you know she means well, stubbornly expressing her desire for approval to her man child of a father. “a loser, if you will.” 

gojo slumps, the rosey petals of his plump lips pushing into an age old pout. “how could you say that about dear old dad?” he whines, as though he’s a wounded animal. 

“well she’s not wrong, baby. you were a loser satoru, you still are.” the words are fond and light hearted on your tongue, a similar state to the wisps of a smile that trace over your own lips. leaning in close, you tickle the nose of the gurgling baby boy in his arms, heart heavy with affection — grateful that the one interaction you had with your husband all those years ago ( when he was a scrapier and misunderstood ) led you both to the beautiful chaotic family you have together now. “a hot one at least.” 

“gross.” your daughter groans and buries her embarrassed gaze in the spread of food on the neatly laid table — grabbing a plate and piling it high to cope.

her boyfriend chuckles nervously, wanting nothing more but to eat and do the same. desperate to hide from gojo’s intimidating aura, but too afraid to cross another one of his ridiculous invisible lines. “i think that’s very sweet mrs gojo!”

the brief moment of peace in the war of dad v boyfriend is then interrupted by the white haired man’s temper tantrum, realising that his only daughter is still in the room. “don’t push it kid.” the father of your children all but wails and finds something else about the young couple to pick apart. “you’re sitting too close together! move apart!” 

“daddy—!”

“w-what?”

“i said move it or lose it kid, before i keel over and die of heartbreak.” “betrayal. my own daughter, leaving me for someone else.” 

the two separate, shifting their chairs away from one another despite never actually being too close. you share an empathetic look with your eldest, empathetic to your husband’s actions. you both knew he wouldn’t handle the meeting well, but this was beyond your whilst dreams. the young couple’s hands remain intertwined under the table cloth as the meal begins properly, and when satoru notices, he doesn’t comment — biting down hard on his unhappy tongue. he knows all too well what it’s like to love against the odds, his father in law hardly wanted him around you. it’s not like he wasn’t aware how bad he was for you, how your standards might have even dropped for the man to be with him. but you loved satoru with your entire being, wholly and against all of your own parent’s wishes. 

in a way, the dinner tonight reminds him of himself meeting your father for the first time — how he had to work for his approval too. prove that he was more than just a spoilt brat. too caught up in the memories, the odd sense of loss threaded between his every breath and the love he holds for his daughter settled in his lungs — gojo almost kissed the way you whisper to him adoringly, head drooping to rest on his shoulder mostly to look at your baby but partly to comfort him. “you’re being dramatic satoru. look at them, don’t you just love young love.” 

and he does, he looks, really looks — softly staring across the table and through the haze of his own judgement, noticing how happy his little girl looks all wrapped up with her boyfriend. all he’s ever wanted is to keep her smiling, give her a life that his parents couldn’t give him, he feels all of his resentment and fear or losing his daughter melt away like a plain sheet of paper dissolving in water. he loves her too much to not let her be happy, his baby. his little girl. 

“no, not at all,” satoru finally relents with a wobbling voice and silvery tears that dot his vision — shaking his head back and forth to stop them from dropping onto his sleeping son gathered in his arms. “w-why would you say that? god, is it allergy season? my eyes are killing me. they’re not cute at all, why would you say that i’m crying?” 

your teenage daughter glances over, relief evident in all of her identical gojo features. “no one mentioned you crying, daddy.” she coos softly in an attempt to console satoru.

it doesn’t work, he starts dry heaving and sobbing. which is new for her, he hasn’t cried this hard since her baby brother was born.

the kid scrambles into his pocket and damn near stumbles over the table in order to hand your white haired lover a tissue. “i don’t think you’re crying sir!” 

“shut up!” gojo sniffles dramatically, putting on his best theatre kid act and drapes himself ( and the baby ) all over you. “shit, is this cushioned tissue? three ply?” pale, deft fingers swipe at the blue pools of eyes which well with tears while the kid nods over enthusiastically — desperate to please his girlfriend’s guardian. “good stuff this is… but this doesn’t mean i approve of you for my daughter!”

“gojo!” 

“whaaaaat!? he doesn’t have a 401K!”

ᯓ★ RYOMEN SUKUNA:

if you’d told sukuna, almost a decade and a half ago, that he would end up with a life shrouded in domestic bliss — he would have laughed in your face. maybe even called you a cunt whilst telling you to fuck off. back then, when he was younger and the spirit of ambitious fire burned brightly in his veins as though he had petroleum for blood, the pink haired man never dreamed of settling down. buying a house. getting married. or having kids.

he was as untameable as a wild horse, with only one goal in mind. to open up his restaurant and get his family out of that shithole town by all and any means. he’d cross whatever rivers he had to, climb whatever mountains he needed to — push past societal hurdles that judged him for the pink in his hair and the thick ink on his body. ryomen sukuna did not care. not about anyone else, only about his goals.

at least, until he met you. 

in many ways, you were a blessing to the world where sukuna was a curse. his complete opposite, the day to his night. though the worlds and lives you came from were completely different — 

nowadays, the man is a little softer around the edges and weaker in the heart — they say that’s what true love does to you.

a set of keys jingle at the front door, followed by the dull thud of trainers on the shoe rack and footsteps on the mahogany wood floor. sukuna hardly looks up from the article he’s reading — something about the best recipes for autumnal vegetables. who would have thought, ryomen sukuna, reading up on gardening. he would tell anyone who asked it was for his restaurant, not because he actually enjoyed it. would make him look soft. 

“hey, i’m home!” the voice that calls to him is sweet and youthful, a dulcet symphony that tugs paternally at the pink haired man’s heart strings. “is ma here?” 

sukuna smiles to himself behind the newspaper, inhaling its fresh ink scent. “in the kitchen, workin’,” he replies absentmindedly, listening to his daughter skid down the hall after dropping her backpack. “oi squirt, you ain’t slick. you know what day it is, report card. now.” 

there’s a dramatic sigh that follows footsteps trailing back into the living room. sukuna’s daughter, his pride and joy clings onto the doorframe with a scowl that could very well rival his own, ruby red eyes twinkling with annoyance — she’s in a rush to chat with her mother after school, he knows, but he can’t help but to tease her just a bit. “s’in my bag, can i go now?” she whines impatiently but takes off at the first gentle nod from her father in reply. 

but the pink haired parent’s peaceful evening is quickly turned upside down at the discovery he makes in the bottom of his pride and joy’s bag. no matter how much time has passed, how many decades have gone by in which he’s been a father — nothing could prepare him for this new challenge, the new wave of emotions that come with having a tween daughter and swirl hotly in his chest.

“what the fuck is this?” he announces with a foul snarl, slipping into the kitchen where his girls chitchat idly over a test batch of cookies sukuna had made earlier in the day. for his restaurant of course. not because he’s a doting husband or loving father. he’s got an image to uphold and it’s not one of domestic bliss. 

his daughter chirps, not looking up from the sweet treat she picks apart and pops into her mouth — seated on the kitchen island while you work away on your laptop. “what’s what, daddy?” her innocent nonchalance about the older sukuna’s discovery almost makes him pop a vein. “also, ma told you to stop saying the f-word. so, swear jar.”

the hulking man with the contrastingly soft pink pokes his tongue into the soft epithelium of his cheek, his jaw ticks and a playful frustration tingles throughout all four of his limbs. the swear jar was something you’d brought into play as soon as [daughter name] had learned how to talk, afraid that your rough and rugged husband’s potty mouth would rub off on her young impressionable mind. every time a cursed word falls from between ryomen sukuna’s lips, a couple hundred yen is popped into the jar as punishment. the thing was practically full by your baby’s third birthday, so you’ve been putting it down as her college fund ever since.

paper rustles between deft and tattooed fingers as sukuna reveals not a report card, but a crinkled note like the kind passed back and forth between distracted kids in the middle of that one class before lunch. “don’t play dumb with me, squirt.” ryomen holds the note up to the light so that both of his girls can see, blood diamond eyes squinting so he can inspect it better. somebody get this guy his glasses. “‘do you want to go out with me? tick for yes, cross for no.’” he reads out loud, each word leaving a bitter taste on his tongue, his frown so deep that lines of disapproval form on his well-aged face.

thoughts of the once all-important report card vanish into thin air, the relaxed aura in the room replaced with a palatable tension that not even your husband’s finest knives could cut. your precious baby girl shoots up from the counter to scramble with her dad over the note in hand. he holds her back with a large palm to the forehead.

“oh my god! you weren’t supposed to see that! daddy, give it here. please!”

“fat chance, squirt,” the tattooed man retorts. “you passin’ notes in class? that why you’re hidin’ your report card?” 

“you can have my report card, when you give that back!”

with the two standing side by side, the resemblance strikes you as clear as day. they share the same hair, same scowl and same rugged intonation to their voices. they’re both yours, your entire world under one roof. before they can blow said root off, you stand between the elder and younger sukuna — turning to your husband with hooded eyes and a gentle hand on the centre of his broad chest. “oh ryo,” you coo in flirtation, slowing his train of thought as you sneakily swipe the crushed paper from his grip. “shut up ‘n let me see that.”

your daughter gags behind you at the display of affection, contrasting with the amused smirk you share with your long time lover. after all this time, marriage and the perfect kid, you’re still able to make a fool out of him — make sukuna’s heart skip a beat and a heat he refuses to acknowledge crawl up the back of his neck. he’s gone soft, for you and his family. for now, for you, he relents on taunting his precious little girl. 

casting your gaze over the note, you grin at the pink-ink chicken scratch scribbled across the page. it’s sweet and endearing, reminding you of young love. “did atsushi finally ask you out?” you ask tenderly, handing the paper back to your daughter who cuddles it to her chest like the  physical version of a precious memory. 

a bashful expression lines the contours of her face, seeping into features you’d recognise from your husband on her. sukuna would argue that she has the shape of your eyes and your beauty too — but all you see is a culmination of love. “ma you were so totally right, playing hard to get really works!” 

she gushes dreamily over her crush like it’s puppy love, biting her lip and bouncing on the spot. 

“like a charm, every time.” comes your entertained response, much to your husband’s dismay.

“you weren’t playin’ hard to get with me…” sukuna questions rather than states, trying to piece together parts of the gossip that he’s missed. an anxiety corners the beat of his heart at the thought of his daughter dating, something in which the burly man never thought he would be afraid of. the world had been hard on sukuna; he only worries that it’s not as safe for his pride and joy as it were for him.   “never mind that; the brat asked you out with a piece of paper?  y’better not have said yes. we have standards here.” 

his words make you roll your eyes with the hint of a smile. ryomen almost reminding you of your own father around the time you’d met him.

your daughter scrunches her nose petulantly, gearing herself up for a witty reply. “well ma married you, so her standards can’t be that high.” she snaps, earning a stifled laugh from you and an unimpressed grunt from her hardheaded dad. “and no, i didn’t. told him he needed to ask me out  properly. face to face. with words. he said to meet him on the running track tomorrow at lunch for a surprise!”

pulling her into a hug, you kiss her round youthful cheek. “oh baby, i'm so happy for you!”

“well i ain’t! show me the damn kid, need to see what kind of pitiful brat wants to ask out my little girl,”  sukuna crosses his arms and grumbles to himself, black ink tattoos flexing menacingly as he does so. almost as if he’s preparing to threaten the kid before even meeting him. “whatever happened to askin’ for permission to court or whatever. he should have been on my doorstep asking for your hand.” 

“firstly you would have said no, and secondly this isn’t the olden days, dad. nobody does that anymore.” your cheeky daughter chides him loudly, her words slipping over her snarky little tongue. like father like daughter, the way they snip and snap at one another has an uncanny resemblance.

tilting your head upwards towards your fuming husband, you laugh breathlessly in a way that washes away his anger.“she’s right ryo; though my dad hardly approved of you either.” you say softly. even now, you make him feel weak in the knees and dizzy in the mind, like he’s so anything for you. whoever dates his daughter should feel the same about her.

“i freakin’ earned it, didn’t i? 

“just barely.”

sukuna huffs but settles a hand on your waist from behind and his head atop yours. he needs to soothe himself somehow, his daughter is growing too fast. “stop ganging up on me and lemme see the damn kid.” 

“here, isn’t he cute.” 

lips downturned, sukuna craned his neck to look at your daughter’s phone from over your shoulder — scrutinising the instagram page that she’s opened now offering the kid his only child has taken an interest in like a lamb at the slaughterhouse. “brat looks like a noodle.” haughty laughter fills the kitchen, reverberating against the bones and organs in ryomen’s chest and buzzing right though your back. “you’re right i woulda said no as soon as he fuckin’ turned up!” 

two sets of scolding eyes similar in shape, belonging to the two girls he loves the most swivel around to face the pink haired man disapprovingly.

“ryomen sukuna!” 

“daddy!”

“yeah yeah, i know. swear jar.”

ᯓ★ SUGURU GETO:

“my love, were you aware that our little munchkin has a boyfriend?”

suguru looks up from the bubbling pot of child friendly pasta sauce on the stove. if it were just the two of you having dinner tonight, like it was merely three (nearly four) years ago — he would have planned for a more adventurous meal. perhaps sought out a bottle of fine aged wine for you both to enjoy on the balcony and even gotten a dessert to sweeten the date in. but now, you both had more than two hungry tummies to worry about, and bottles of wine could only be purchased when the little one was off with her uncle satoru.

“no, i wasnt. i don't believe that’s come up in discussion before,” your dark haired lover turns his narrow gaze to the giggly little girl swaddled in your arms — her chubby cheeks and dark, curious eyes just peeking out of the fluffy duck-themed towel you’ve wrapped her in. bath time is usually after bed, but someone got into the paint pots at nursery school and managed to get blotches of blue streaked through her hair and under her fingernails. “care to elaborate sweetheart?”

suguru taps the wooden sauce spoon against the side of the pot and swipes his hands on a nearby tea towel before allowing them to rest on his hips, look of faux irritation settling on the contours of his face and slopes of his features. thin brows draw together like closed gates in the middle of his forehead — the expression earning airy light and squealed laughter from your baby girl.

“nuh uhhh! not my boy-fend!” she babbles her way through the big girl word, missing a few syllables here and there, but geto still grins with pride — happily leaning forward to press enthusiastic kisses to his little angel’s damp forehead. “no boy-fend papa!

bouncing your daughter slightly, you cock your hip out to hold her weight and cheekily roll your eyes. “such a daddy’s girl, lying to him already? he’ll let you get away with anything if you keep that up,”  though you muster up a pout to rival the toddler’s, the uncanny resemblance warming the cockles or your husband’s heart, your tone is playful and adoring — it’s lilt full of love for the baby girl you made together. you pinch her chubby cheek, waggling it from side to side as more of her childlike laughter tangles with the scent of pasta in the air.  “we bumped into the fujioka boy and his mother at the gates this morning, he held her hand all the way up to the classroom. it was quite cute. you had to be there, love.” 

“i’m sure,” he responds, gentle mirth and protectiveness swirling in dark framed eyes.

you relay the information to your husband as though it’s hot gossip fresh from the press, whispering over your dark-haired daughter’s head not so secretly. even with the hair and eyes to match suguru’s, she’s still just as much your carbon copy as she is his — he tends to say all of her spirit comes from you, not to mention the way she laughs and smiles.

shaking her head between you, both — your baby chimes in brightly. “noooo mama!! boys are gross, i don’ hold hands with boys.”

this time suguru manoeuvres to pinch her other chubby cheek, clicking his tongue as he does so. “not even papa?” he pretends to pout, crouching down with his hands on his knees to coo into her sweet little face. 

“nuhhh, papa isn’t gross!! papa is my favourite boy!” she quickly tacks on with a dribbly smile.

“that’s right. i’ll be the only boy in your life always, just you and i princess,” your husband reaffirms with a firm shake of his head and presses a promise in the form of a kiss to your daughter’s nose. her chubby little hands, still wet from bath time, smack either side of suguru’s face and keep him close — close enough for her to plant a soggy smooch onto his forehead affectionately. a wet kiss only a father could love. “that settles it, i’m no longer sharing my kisses. papa says no boyfriends until you’re ninety.”

once your two loves are done sharing their candied affections, you seat your daughter on the edge of the kitchen table to allow geto the room to finish up with dinner. the comforting symphony of baby babbles and kitchen utensils clanking and food boiling fills the steamy air, it makes you smile. it feels like home. “oh come on suguru, they’re only three. don’t you think it’s the tiniest bit adorable?” you say with a sing-songy voice, entertaining both your little one and her father.“they even share their animal crackers during break time and crayons when it’s time to colour, one of the supervisors told me.”

with his back now to you as he stirs through the pasta sauce one final time, you hardly miss the way suguru’s shoulders tense at the mention of the little boy your girl has taken a liking to. he wouldn’t dare frown about it in front of her, what upsets daddy upsets baby too. that’s why he’s always smiling for her, and you find the man’s subtle jealousy endearing. it’s always supposed to be suguru and his princess, with no room for anyone else ( aside from you, of course ) 

“nope, no boyfriends. no amount of cuteness can convince me otherwise.” voice falling tight and flat, suguru reaches into the cupboards for plates and bowls to dish up his lovingly prepared home cooked meal, slamming them into place at the table with a little less patience than before. 

the idea of some… little boy chasing after his daughter’s heart? over his dead body.

“boy-fends are gross!” but your daughter is forever a daddy’s girl, furrowing her brow and crossing her tiny arms in an act of defiance — supporting her papa’s cause. boyfriends are bad! 

fuelling her excitement and even more support for papa — food is served shortly by your husband, who plates up as best as he can with toddler safe dinnerware. you adjust your little girl into her high chair at the table, giggling to yourself softly when she cranes her neck to keep an eye on suguru. “does that mean papa’s gross? he’s technically mama’s boyfriend.”

“husband, love, there’s a difference.” 

three plates of hot, aromatic spaghetti are organised in a table — each a domestic reminder of the family suguru geto has been blessed with. in that moment, he thinks he would be happy if he spent the rest of his life as just the three of you. briefly his mind wonders to setting a fourth place at the table in a decade or so’s time, once his daughter truly is old enough to date. the very thought makes him feel ill. 

round, doe eyes dart between you and suguru as you take your seats either side of your darling daughter at the table — she mimics you both with fumbling little fingers that reach for her baby fork and concentrates as she attempts to repeat your husband’s words. “can i have a husbsband-love?”

you laugh and kiss her cheek, helping her to gather a bite of pasta on the full end of her fork. “husband. just husband, my love. make sure you blow on your food please!” she follows your instructions with a comical air, cheeks puffing and breath huffing while you explain why her father is a second away from blowing his top. “good girl. husband’s aren’t for babies, baby. and i think papa might not like it if you got one now.”

“if you got one ever!” suguru interjects, eyes narrowing while he fights with his lips to avoid a scowl. “the answer is still no, princess. no husbands and no boyfriends until papa is old, cold and in the ground.” 

now that your hands are free, you grab the nearest tea towel and wind it up in your grip — launching its tail end at geto as though to swat at  him. he jumps in surprise and your daughter shrieks in amusement as she begins babbling again. “don worry, papa!. fujioka is  no my boy-fend!!” she says over food in her mouth and happy tummy. geto wipes over her face again. she’ll definitely need another bath later. “hasegawa is!!”

the pair of you share a look and this time, you really think suguru might just throw in the towel. 

how could he compete with pre-school love and paint pots shared over playtime gossip? 

“two boyfriends? oh god, love… i think need some air.”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Sweet Temptation - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Spencer’s a pervert and so are you (a.k.a Spencer doesn’t know how to control himself when the team goes camping)

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: This isn’t that accurate to canon but I don’t really care, I just love the concept of pervert!spencer and wanted to write something filthy ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i wrote half of this half asleep so give me a little grace pls, not proofread cuz i never do oops

TW: pervert!spencer, bau!reader, panty stealing, dubcon, public sex, outdoor sex, oral sex (reader receiving), penetration, unprotected sex, breeding kink, cum eating, softdom!spencer, afab + fem reader

Rating: R, 18+

——

When one of the higher ups suggested the BAU team go on a wilderness retreat, you figured it’d be at some cushy wellness resort with cheesy team-building exercises and sleeping in cabins, not a campsite in the middle of the woods, with only a flimsy tent floor separating you from the hard ground.

You didn’t want to be here, truthfully you felt that the team was a little too close to each other at times, and there certainly wasn’t any bonding you could do out here that couldn’t have been done back at the office. You were cold, the rocky dirt beneath you was hurting your back, and you could not get to sleep for longer than twenty minutes at a time no matter how many times you tossed and turned into different positions.

You had enough, and decided to try your luck at a walk to wake yourself up until the rest of the team was up. You unzipped your tent, careful to be quiet to not wake anyone, and stepped out into the fresh morning air. The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon, and the hazy orange hue was almost enough to make you understand why you were on this stupid trip to begin with.

You began your trek down the trail, the sound of birds chirping and the light layer of dew coating the underbrush making you feel momentarily like you were in a fairytale. Maybe a return to nature wasn’t such a bad thing. You came upon a small clearing, just through a slightly overgrown offshoot of the trail, and decided to take a closer look at the wildflowers growing there. There was a small overgrown picnic table in the center, the perfect place for you to sit and take in the beauty of nature.

You sat there for what felt like hours, your eyes fluttering shut as you slumped down against the table, finally getting some much-needed sleep in your blissful surroundings. The abrupt ‘snap’ of a twig startled you awake, and you almost fell back off of the withered bench. You looked around through hazy eyes, watching as a tall figure approached you. Your eyes quickly adjusted to the bright light of mid-morning, seeing that the figure was none other than Spencer Reid.

“How long have I been out?” You asked, rubbing your eyes.

“Not long, the rest of the team just left on the hike, I volunteered to stay back and wait for you.” He explained, pushing his hair out of his face. You weren’t sure how honest he was being, the telltale nervous lick of his lips telling you that at least part of what he was saying was a stretch of the truth.

“Were you watching me sleep?” You jokingly accused, playfully pushing his shoulder. His face turned bright red, and for a second you thought you might’ve been right. He said nothing, shaking his head before turning around and walking quickly away from you. A flash of pink fabric caught your attention, just a sliver sticking out of the back pocket of his shorts.

“What’s this?” You ran up behind him, snatching the fabric out of his back pocket. You stopped in your tracks, mouth hung slightly open in shock when you realized what you held in your hand. It was the pair of dirty panties you had changed out of before bed last night, the pair that you had sworn you put in your laundry bag.

“What the fuck, Spencer?” You raised your voice, holding the pair up so he knew you’d caught him.

“I-I can explain!” He frantically tried to reason, taking a step back from you.

“Oh really? Explain to me why you pulled a pair of my dirty underwear out of my laundry bag while I was sleeping, I would seriously love to know what rational explanation there is for that.” Your heavy sarcasm was almost too exaggerated to take seriously, and to your detriment it had blood rushing to Spencer’s cock. He attempted to stutter something out, but it was all jumbled nonsense.

“I don’t need an explanation Spencer, you’re a pervert, plain and simple.” You scoffed, backing slowly away from him.

“You always walk around in those short skirts, how else am I supposed to react?” He attempted to defend himself, starting to gain a small bit of confidence as he took steps to close the gap between the two of you.

“That’s awfully misogynistic Spencer.” You retorted, the initial shock of the situation starting to wear off.

“Every time you bend over in those skirts I get an eye full of your underwear, and you know what? I think you’re doing it on purpose.” His accusation wasn’t entirely incorrect, you had noticed him staring at your ass the first couple times you wore a shorter skirt to work and thought it’d be fun to embarrass him a little. You never thought he’d resort to this, though.

“That’s bullshit.” You laughed, taking another step back until your back hit a tree, stopping you in your tracks.

“Really? Then why did you bend over right in front of me in those shorts last night?” He pressed his hand against the tree about your head, leaning over you. He may still be the slightly awkward, nerdy Spencer you knew before he did time, but prison surely did bring out an incredibly intimidating side of him. Now you were the one with nothing coherent to say, simply swallowing your pride as you looked up at him.

“I think you want me just as badly as I want you.” He breathed, his free hand meeting your waist. He leaned down, lips brushing yours until you raised yourself onto your toes to close the kiss, wanting to swallow him whole. The kiss was intense but short-lived as Spencer pulled away, his hand on your waist turning you so you were facing the tree. He dropped to his knees behind you, hands gripping the waistband of your shorts and yanking them down, exposing your bare cunt. Your slick was already starting to drip down your thigh, the thought of getting caught fucking your coworker in the middle of the woods only spurring on your arousal.

“Look how wet you are, and you think I’m the pervert?” He teased, not giving you a moment to react before his tongue was between your folds, drinking up all of your wetness. You leaned your cheek against the tree as he ate you like he was starving, his hands kneading your ass as his tongue explored every inch of your needy pussy. Just as he began sucking on your clit, the two of you heard someone coming up the trail outside the clearing.

Spencer scrambled to his feet, his hand covering your mouth as he wrapped his arm around your waist to shield your bare bottom half from view. You carefully listened, waiting for the couple’s conversation to fade as they walked past before Spencer finally let his grip on your waist go, continuing to hold his other hand over your mouth.

“I need to feel you.” He whispered, pushing his pants down to free his erection. He grabbed your shoulder, pushing you forward against the tree again before kicking your legs further apart, the head of his cock prodding your entrance. You whimpered against his hand, pushing your hips back in encouragement. He pushed into you, your wet cunt gripping every inch of his thick cock, stretching you out just enough to bring tears to your eyes. He filled you up perfectly, like he was made for you, and it grew increasingly hard to swallow your moans.

Spencer’s hand over your mouth could only muffle so much, but you didn’t care about getting caught anymore, you just needed him to fuck you as hard as he could. He started at a quick but steady pace, but you need more. You tried to talk against his palm, only creating confusion until he pulled his hand away just enough for you to speak.

“Harder.” You whined, holding onto the trunk of the tree for dear life as he granted your request. Each thrust of his hips against yours was almost brutal, his free hand digging fingertips so hard into your hip that you knew they’d bruise. Spencer had never been more grateful for his eidetic memory, knowing that he’d be able to remember how perfectly your ass rippled with every slam of his hips each time he wanted to relieve himself in the future. He finally dropped his grip from your mouth, the now free hand wrapping around your front and moving down your stomach to your clit, rubbing quick circles to match his pace.

“S-spencer, I’m not on birth control.” You choked out, sensing that he was as close as you were.

“Then let’s make a baby.” He groaned.

“Oh God!” His empty threat pushed you over the edge, your walls pulsing around him as you bit your forearm to stifle your cries of pleasure. Your knees began to buckle, Spencer’s grip the only thing keeping you standing as he came inside of you. He held you close, waiting for you to come down before pulling out, his seed dripping down your thighs. He brought his hand down to gather the extra, bringing his semen-covered fingers to your lips.

You didn’t have to be told what to do, sucking them clean as you caught your breath. He pulled your underwear and shorts back up your legs, helping you straighten up before doing the same with his pants.

“You really are a pervert.” You broke the silence, turning to face him.

“Oh yeah, like you’re completely innocent in all of this.” He quipped, wiping the slightest bit of his cum off the corner of your mouth.

“You might’ve just knocked me up in the middle of the woods, I think you win that title, Spencer.” He was blushing again, somehow shy again after the dirty things you’d just done together.

“I’ll take you into town to get the morning after pill, the rest of the team shouldn’t be back for a while still.” He took your hand, guiding you out of the clearing to start the walk back up the trail.

“I wouldn’t mind having your baby.” You told him, causing him to trip on a rock on the path. He caught himself, laughing it off, but secretly wishing he could pull you into the tree line and fuck you all over again.

——

Tag list: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or spencer reid taglist :)

[haruchuiyo]

closest proximity

content: // NSFW // MINORS DO NOT INTERACT // + making out + fluffy moments at the end + blade drives a car (he does canonically lmfaoooo) + fem!reader + blade is very sweet and in love with you !

took me a while to write this but I hope you enjoy this nevertheless mwah

—

“We’re here.” You hear Blade announce lightly and you pout while turning your head at him. “You can’t wait to get rid of me so soon, huh?” You ask teasingly and Blade flashes you a gentle smile. Then you feel him reach for your hand with his own and tugs your forward.

“Come here.” He pats his thighs after he lowered the car seat back a little and you feel giddiness overcome you at the thought of spending more time with your Blade and also at the thought of sitting on his lap. It’s always such a comfortable place to sit on and the close proximity is blissful.

You reach over the gear stick and Blade holds your waist as he helps you onto his lap. As soon as you sit down on his thighs, your knees digging into the back of his chair, you sigh in context as you place your hands on his chest.

“Best chair ever.” You contentedly admit and a slight chuckle escapes Blades mouth as he hugs you closer to his embrace. As he does that, he leans against the headrest of his chair, looking up at you as your chest is pressed against his own. He wraps his arms around your body and it’s his time to sigh contentedly. You smile at his reaction before pressing a soft kiss on his mouth before pulling away, which he smiles at. Then you feel his hands trail down your back to rest at your backside.

He presses his mouth against yours this time, but this time no one pulls away. Your heart flutters every time this man kisses you, the way his lips feels against yours, the amount of unspoken words said through the kisses is overwhelmed with love. His body is firm and warm against your own, you can taste the earl grey tea he drank before on his breath.

You’re warm and soft everywhere as he squeezes your backside lightly before lightly rubbing his thumb on you over your clothes. Blade feels you tug on the front of his clothes the more you two kiss. Then he feels how your hands trail up his chest to his neck, feeling your bare skin on his own sends tingling down his body, before you end up softly threading your fingers through his hair.

Blade pulls away, breathing against your mouth before he takes your jaw in his hands and tilts it up. Breathing deeply from the kiss, you feel Blade’s gaze on your face, admiring you as if you’re the finest artwork to ever exist. Flutters shoots through your body and a shaky moan leaves your mouth when you feel his lips press a kiss on your pulse point beneath your jaw. “So pretty.” He mutters to himself before continuing to press down kisses on your throat, his thumb running across your neck softly. “So glad you’re mine.”

“Blade.” You breathe out as you feel how Blade noses his face on the crook of your neck, breathing your scent in before kissing there as well.

“Yes?” Another kiss to your bare shoulder. Your fingers grasp tightly on his hair and Blade grins against your skin. “Kiss me.” You softly whine out.

“Soon, sweetheart.”

Whatever feelings is brewing in your body right now, it’s so spellbinding it makes you move your hips against Blade and you feel him smile against where he is on the triangle of your throat. Blade presses a path of kisses up your throat then goes down your clavicle.

He bites down on the spot below your collarbone, a shudder runs through you and you hear Blade chuckle.

“Oh come on.” You whimper out and Blade pulls his head up to look at you. Face flustered and eyes dazed while your mouth looks as inviting and pretty as usual.

“Easy, my sweet.” He softly reprimands to your face and you pout while he’s smiling at you. You lean your head in to nuzzle his nose with yours and Blade smiles even wider before he lets out a sigh of relief. Relief as if this is what’s supposed to be in his life. You in his arms, on his lap, faces and body so close to each other. So inseparable. Blade loves it. He wasn’t much for close proximity until the day you came into his life.

So enamoured with you, he takes your mouth in another kiss and it’s your turn to sigh in relief against his mouth, albeit muffled by his kisses. Your body brings about butterflies when he kisses you.

It’s a messy but loving tangle of teeth, squeezing your body and tugging his hair while both your bodies is running in ecstasy and love for each other. You both have hearts beating fast, greedy and needy for more kisses and to be closer than closer. You’re just a couple kissing about in a car after a date.

Blade leaves you breathily gasping whenever his mouth, if not kissing you, is pressed down on other places. The teasing you get for your reaction doesn’t make it better but it makes Blade flash you slight grins and it fires you up, then he sees your eyes close in bliss while soft moans leaves your lips when he places his hands on your hips and presses your crotch against his, hitting sweet spots.

“So expressive, aren’t you?” He teases, softly rolling your hips against his as he kisses your neck, seeing how you squirm on top of him but to no avail, it just makes you press against his lap even more, which in turn makes Blade let out moans before he takes you into yet another kiss. You thread your nails through his scalp and he buries his fingers deeper into your hips, his mouth open slightly against yours as he groans while you nibble and suck on his lower lip.

He tugs in your lower lip before sucking on your tongue then takes you into a frenzied kiss, desperate and hungry for more, completely forgetting the fact you two are in a car in public place for anyone to see if they passed by the car.

The kiss turns messier the more you kiss. You trace your hands down his front to slip them beneath his shirt, wanting something more than just kisses. As your hands rub and touch his bare skin, lightly scratching your nail on his skin when you reach his lower back, Blade pulls away from your lips and you whine, reaching for his mouth once more. He shakes his head as he takes your hands in his and pulls them out of from beneath his shirt.

“People.” He shortly says and you turn confused till you hear chatter and you pout. Blade sees your reaction, finding you cute so he can’t help but chuckle as he places his forehead on your sternum, wrapping his arms around your body before he pulls you to him once more, chests heaving up and down together in unison.

“What a shame.” You mutter, wanting more than just kisses. Blade nods his head before he pulls away to look up at you. You see how his hair is disheveled, shirt crumpled and he looks flushed on the face and his eyes completely dazed and enamoured.

He reaches a hand up to softly rub your jaw, the gesture so tender you rub your face into his palm and Blade feels his chest swarm with love.

“We could take this upstairs.” Your voice was soft but he heard it nonetheless. He looks outside and the people are gone, but some could appear once more.

“Let’s stay like this for a moment more before we move.” He simply says as he kisses the juncture between your neck and shoulder. Knowing Blade and how disinterested he was in close proximity, his words right now blooms your chest with so much happiness you can’t help but nod your head in agreement. Though you can feel a certain bump below you and between your thighs.

You slip your hands below his shirt once more and almost shudder. “You’re so cold.” You say as matter of fact and Blade chuckles.

“You’re warm enough for me, sweetheart.”

—

hehe this was fun to write and I absolutely love at the thought of hearing blade call his girl ‘my sweet’ ugh he so dreamy😵‍💫

if you enjoyed this, a like and a reblog would be so much appreciated. thank you <3

[avocado-writing]

pairing: logan howlett x afab!reader. 18+, minors dni. fluff; smut (p in v unprotected sex; heavy breeding kink; creampie; oral - reader receiving). canonically bisexual reader. dp+w movie spoilers.

synopsis: you and logan have a pretty happy life… but there’s still something you want.

words: 10k.

notes: part 2 of say you’ll remember me. you don’t have to read it for this part but it is referenced. thank you @eupheme for being my beta, and for the use of the dividers!

Logan wakes to the twinned warmth of the sunrise and you curled around him like a cat. 

You’ve always been attracted to the way he runs hot, a creature of habit in any timeline. A magnet seeking him out even when asleep; you are pretty much a permanent fixture by his side when the weather is a little too chilly. Not that he’s complaining - he loves to sling an arm around you and feel you snuggle into him. Loves to keep you close. 

It’s nice, honestly; Logan has more good days than bad ones now. He never thought he’d get to see that again. Sometimes things get rough, sure, recovery is not a straight line - but you’re there with him on every step of that journey and he’s more thankful for that than he can ever express. You’re a grounding rod keeping the storm of his life in check. 

You intuit that he’s awake, something between you innately connected, and you begin to stir, body brushing up against his. He sleeps naked, usually running too hot to bother with any kind of pyjamas, and you’ve started sleeping shirtless too. Maybe it’s because he makes the bed too warm to stomach wearing one, or maybe it’s just because you like to feel his naked chest up against yours - either way he isn’t complaining. 

You stretch, arching yourself into his flank, blink open your eyes slowly. Smile when you find him looking down at you with soft, hazy, early-morning features. 

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies, voice rocky. You reach up to kiss him, as is the way you usually like to start your day. It doesn’t take long for the chaste peck to become something more: the gentle parting of lips, slipping out the pink tip of your tongue to meet his. His body stirs. He can practically smell the way your blood pumps faster, pooling at the apex of your legs. 

“It’s so early,” you faux-harrumph when you run your hand towards his cock and find it hardening. How can you blame him when you’re so fucking sexy? Logan hums, manoeuvring you both so that he can look down at your sweet face as you lie surrounded in cotton sheets. 

“Then stay right there, baby.”

He kisses a sleepy, loving trail down your clavicle; luxuriating along the plain of your chest, nipping at your soft stomach in a way which beckons a breathy chuckle from you, steeped in the gravelly tones of morning. 

“Mmm, Mr Howlett, you are an incorrigible fiend.”

“Incorrigible, huh? Big word for someone who says they’re so sleepy…” he mutters, smirk ticking up the side of his mouth as his calloused fingers dip under the waistband of your pyjama shorts. 

“Incorrigible. Insatiable, even.”

He drags them down your legs, slowly, taking in the sight of you bathed in the dawn’s roseate light. You move your hips to let him. 

“Hmm. You complaining?”

“Oh, never.”

He grins and gets to work.

Logan loves the tang of you on his tongue. You’re still a little sticky from last night, where he pushed you chest-down into the mattress and fucked you so hard he was slightly worried he’d break the bed frame. He didn’t - but he’s perfectly happy to try again. 

You let out a fluttery little breath, butterfly light, as he starts his work properly. Burying his face in your cunt, letting every sense be drowned in you. He drags his tongue along your needy folds and you groan above him, hooking a leg over his shoulder and sinking your heel into the thick muscles of his back. He could listen to the noises you make for hours, a little symphony just for him. 

“Fuck, Logan,” you sigh, blissful and light-headed. He lets his mouth focus on your clit as he presses a couple of fingers inside. It’s an easy intrusion, your pussy offering up no resistance, a mix of spit and slick aiding him. He starts to crook them in a beckon and the mewl you let out will stay with him for the rest of the day; he smiles against your cunt. 

“That’s it, baby,” you groan. Fuck. He loves your voice when he’s making you come. Would do whatever you tell him to, just point him in a direction and he’ll follow. He is so utterly at your beck and call, a dog at your feet, so happy to obey. Anything for you, anything. 

He speeds up his pace, hand fucking you in a simulation of his cock last night, tongue pressing hard and flat against your folds. You come in a flood all over his mouth, soaking his beard and dripping off his chin. His favourite fucking flavour. All the furniture in the room jolts as you send out a telekinetic wave of force, knocking over a lamp onto the carpet with a dull thud. 

“That damn lamp, we need to move it…” you grumble. Logan kisses your thigh gently. 

“Baby, if the fuckin’ lamp doesn’t fall over, I’m not doing my job right.”

You laugh. There’s a pearlescent sheen of sweat that’s broken out over your body but you’re giddy and joyful. An arm slung over your eyes does nothing to hide the smile on your face, so wide it must hurt your cheeks. Yeah. He’s done good. 

“Let’s go shower,” you say, in a way which he’d never dream of arguing with. You walk naked into the bathroom and pull him under the hot stream of water with you. The room slowly fills up with steam and Logan presses you up against the tiled wall, burying his face in the warm space between your neck and your shoulder as he sheathes himself inside. You drag your nails down his back and he growls in your ear, slowly pumping his hips to bring you over the edge again. 

Ever since that first morning that the two of you were intimate, you’ve been wild for each other; unable to go a day without keeping your hands away. Like teenagers who haven’t understood the concept of pacing themselves. He wants to be drunk on you all the time, always wants your gasps filling his ears, his name dripping from your lips as he makes you come. 

He knows he’s the only man for you… but hey, nothing wrong with proving it too. 

You spend a leisurely forty minutes in the shower with your back against the wall and your legs around his waist, then eventually do what you meant to and clean up. He loves to watch you wash, smell the perfumes of all the soaps you use. You look adorable with suds in your hair. Plus when you ask him to get your back with the loofah it’s just another excuse to touch you and god knows he loves doing that. 

He’s a man content when you finally return to the bedroom. 

Logan watches you pad about and do your morning routine, one he knows like the back of his hand by now. Once again: you’re a creature of habit. Pointing to the radio you use your powers to turn it onto the only channel the two of you ever listen to: an ‘oldies’ station which never plays a song made post ‘89– 

—he remembers a few weeks ago when you were both visiting Wade, chatting about how bad songs are nowadays, and your friend had challenged you: “okay you two geriatric lovebirds, no conferring - when was the last good decade for music?” Without missing a beat you’d both answered “the eighties” and, as Wade groaned at how ‘cringe’ you both were, Logan had fallen in love with you yet again— 

—and you smile and turn it up when Aretha’s I Say A Little Prayer starts playing. Logan watches fondly as you croon out the chorus, using the hairdryer you’re plugging in as a microphone. He loves watching you sing. You don’t always hit all the notes but that’s not really the point - the point is he gets to see you be silly and vulnerable and totally and utterly yourself in these moments, something he knows to hold dear to his heart. 

If you’re singing, you’re happy. 

Fuck, he loves you. 

The two of you get yourselves ready for the day to the music which fills the room, quietly happy in each other’s company. The sound of people getting ready for the day starts up in the hallway; kids coming down for breakfast and squeaking their sneakers on the hardwood, other professors grousing about lesson plans - unfortunately it's time to break the cocoon of solitude the two of you have made for yourselves and face the morning properly. 

“What’re we doing today?”

He squints at the calendar to try and make out your handwriting, attempting to ignore the gaze of the “hot bisexual lumberjack” of the month staring out at him with her barely contained breasts and suggestively placed axe (this had been your birthday present from Wade, and you’d loved it). You tut at him. 

“Logan Howlett, we need to get you some glasses,” you say, pulling on your own and pressing your finger to today’s date, reading out the scribbled ballpoint. “Let’s see… we’re both teaching until five, then looks like there’s a Flames game in the evening you wanna watch. I, however, have been cornered tonight: the girls found out I’ve never seen the Barbie movie so apparently they need to correct that - though I ask you, when I was living in a place literally called the Void, when I would have gotten the damn chance. People weren’t just throwing copies of that thing away. Apparently it’s a great movie.”

‘The girls’. The comfortable nickname you’ve assigned the trio of Laura, Ellie, and Yukio. Logan’s glad Laura has managed to find her people with them - he was secretly worried that, if she took after him too much, she’d be a little too stubborn to make friends at all. Nothing to worry about though. She’s thriving here, and he’s relieved. Happy, even. 

“You’ve not seen Barbie?” Logan asks. You’ve moved to the boudoir now and pause as you apply your face cream, bottle floating in the air centimetres from your neglected skin. 

“Wait, you have seen Barbie?”

He shrugs. Yeah. He doesn’t remember the context, he’d had two full bottles of whiskey by then - but for some reason they’d put it on at the bar he was drowning himself at and he’d sat through the whole thing, leaving a smear of pink on his memory. 

You blink, still gobsmacked. 

“Did you like it?”

Logan considers this for a moment, knowing you’ll call him grumpy if he’s too critical, but also sure you’ll never ever stop teasing him if he praises it. Oh, and god forbid Wade ever finds out…

After a long moment he settles on, “it was alright.”

You shrug, happy with this assessment. 

“Well, good. Guess I’m in for a good evening then.” You stand up with gusto, the indication you’re ready to leave. “Shall we?”

The two of you walk to the door, taking a moment when Logan pulls you into an embrace - your back to his front. You look in the mirror, admiring the couple you see in the reflection, something you do every morning without fail.

“I love you, Logan Howlett,” you say. He drops a kiss to your shoulder. 

“I love you too.”

And with that, the day begins. 

Teaching is a very broad term for what he does. Basically, it’s his job to help the older students with self defence. Every day he goes to get the shit beaten out of him by a load of kids but it’s also the best workout he’s had in over a decade, so he doesn’t mind too much. Keeps him in shape, keeps him sharp. Plus he feels like he’s actually doing something helpful, finally adding to the world rather than just being a burden on it. He spends the first period running battle formations with them, keeping them on their feet and quick to react. Can’t have them getting in danger, not when he’s around.

The class takes a break to get water and he finds himself staring out the window, smiling fondly to himself when he sees you leading a little seminar. After you spent all that time in the wild and then the Void, one of the things they have you teaching is survival skills - you’re a dab hand at getting by just with what you can forage. Looks like you’re going to do some practical exercises as he can see you leading a group of the younger kids towards the forest which surrounds the mansion.

Something happens which makes his heart ache. 

There’s a kid by your side you’re in animated conversation with, probably no more than seven or eight, and they’re looking at you like you hung the stars - just absolutely enchanted with how cool you are. Without thinking they slip their hand into yours for support or guidance or comfort, one of the three anyway, and after a beat you give them a smile. 

In that beat, even from this distance, Logan can see the bittersweet look on your face. The longing. You would wear parenthood well and it’s not fair that you never got a chance to experience it firsthand. It’s a sadness which weaves its way into his guts and stabs him there, an old kind of pain, one he felt for you in his own timeline.

Logan wonders if it’s too late. Are the two of you too old now? Would you both be too hurt if you tried and it didn’t take again? He wants to give you what you want, desperately, but he’ll be damned if he’d ever do anything to upset you; he can’t shake the feeling that’s where that road would lead.

“You okay?”

Laura’s voice makes him jump. She’s a quiet little devil, that’s for certain, definitely not something she got from him - all blades and bluster in his youth. He nods because he doesn’t really want to get into detail about his private life with his pseudo-daughter. 

But unfortunately she’s smart, and his eyes linger, so it's only a matter of her following his gaze to see what’s got him pining. She smiles a small, comforting smile. 

“If there’s a problem you should just talk to them. They’ll listen.”

He harrumphs at the fact a girl less than one-tenth of his age is giving him life advice but also knows that what she says is true. He doesn’t address what she’s said, instead cocking his head at the training mats. 

“C’mon, back to it.”

Laura groans and returns to throwing her classmates across the room.

The thought stays with him for the rest of the day though. After class, when he returns to your shared rooms and starts to get himself set up to watch the game, he finds himself thinking about you with a baby in your arms. A mix of him and you with soft skin and excitement for the world. His eyes, your smile, a perfect combination.

And you’d be so happy. 

Fuck. He’s too old to get broody but here he is, huh.

Logan sits heavily in his recliner, the one nice purchase he’s allowed for himself since getting this job, and opens a root beer. TV remote in his hand he switches on the hockey and settles in for the evening. 

After about twenty minutes his phone goes. He frowns, opening up a text from Laura.

there’s some Pringles in the kitchen can u get them for us please the love of ur life is hungry

Logan sighs and replies, thumbs slow and unfamiliar on a touchscreen. 

all of you have legs. get them yourself

Another message immediately: It’s a picture. You’re busy painting Yukio’s nails bright pink, glasses on the end of your nose and concentration on your face - but half torn between the task at hand and watching the movie you’ve been sequestered for. You look cute. Logan stares for a moment and then saves the photo to his phone. All his albums are just pictures of you at this point. 

Plssssss

is the final text in the chain. Logan definitively puts his phone away. He’s watching the game. He’s not going to get out of this chair to grab a tube of fucking Pringles, he’s not whipped. 

A moment. 

He groans.

Fine.

He gets out of the chair. He’s whipped. 

He heads to the kitchen and gets the requested snack, Hank giving him a knowing and sympathetic smile as they pass in the hallway. He finds you in the lounge, surrounded by girls. Clearly the news of the Barbie watch had gotten out and created a swarm because dozens of eyes look up at him as he lingers in the doorway like a giant awkward dog.

Finally you pull your eyes away from Ryan Gosling’s chest long enough to see why everyone has turned. When you spot him you light up.

“Oh! How did you know I wanted Pringles? Been craving those bad boys recently.”

“Lucky guess,” he replies, stepping carefully between pink dressing gowns and well-thumbed gossip magazines to pass them to you. When he’s within range you drop a kiss on his lips too, prompting an “oooooo” from the gathered crowd. You roll your eyes at them but smile at Logan.

“Thank you baby. What’d I do without you?”

He grumbles something non-committal under his breath and retreats, ignoring the shit-eating grin Laura is flinging his way. Eventually the crowd turns back to the movie. He tries to resist the urge to stand in the doorway with his arms crossed and watch along, the stereotypical father figure who insists he’s not interested, but finds himself lingering for a moment anyway just to see you.

Ellie has her feet slung across your lap, Yukio blows on her freshly-painted nails to dry them. One of the younger girls who’s been delegated to the floor by her older peers rests her head on your knee as she starts to nod off and you play with her hair for a moment - an action which comes readily to you, like it would to a parent.

Logan decides two things. 

One, he’s going to marry you, and he’s certain that every second that he hasn’t been your husband up until now has been wasted. 

And two, he’s going to put a baby in you, like you deserve.

On the way back he passes Hank again, who has an insanely huge sandwich stuffed onto a far-too-small plate - except this time Logan flags him down with a question, one which his colleague has to consider for a moment.

“Oh! Hmm. Yes, I’m pretty sure that it’s in the garage, sometimes the kids like to see if they can get it working again…” when he sees a scowl settle over Logan’s face he’s quick to add, “but none of them have been successful! I think the keys are in the ignition.”

Logan thanks him and heads back to your rooms, a plan forming in his head. 

You get back late. He’s listening to music and reading the paper, the game having finished long ago - the Flames winning of course, there was no other option, go Flames - the weight of the ring he’s swiped from your boudoir burning a hole in his pocket. He hopes you won’t notice - he needs to get your size, after all, and he knows he can’t ask you without rousing suspicion. 

“Hey,” you say, dropping a kiss on his cheek and yourself into his lap. The paper is discarded as his arm automatically comes to perch on your waist, dragged there as if by a magnet. Can’t not touch you for a second.

“Hey. How was the movie?”

“Yeah, pretty good! You know most of those girls hadn’t seen Legally Blonde? We had to remedy that after Barbie, apparently it’s considered a classic now. Fuck, it makes me feel old.” You groan and drop your forehead to his shoulder.

“You’re not that old,” Logan says, and when you come to fix him with a scathing look you find he’s got a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Tease,” you sigh, reaching in to kiss him, but stopping when you hear something on the radio. 

“What’s up?”

“Oh. This used to be our song.”

It’s AC/DC’s You Shook Me All Night Long. It feels strange seeing the way your eyes get a bit hazy, a bit distant for a moment. 

“Good choice.”

“Uh-huh. She… you liked it a lot,” you whisper, for a moment lost in a memory he has no way to share with you. It stings you both. But then you’re back in the room with him, smiling as if nothing had happened. 

“We must have had a song, right? In your universe.”

Is this painful? He isn’t sure. But you shared yours with him, so it seems only fair he make it even. 

“Yeah, we sure did.”

You narrow your eyes, purse your lips playfully.

“I betcha I can guess it.”

He hums. 

“Okay. What’s the bet?”

“If I can’t guess I’ll do that thing you like. If I can guess, you do that thing I like.”

Oh, well, when you put it like that…

“Why not?”

You search his face, reading him for any telltale signs. 

“Mmmm, male singer or female? Or both.”

“I didn’t realise you got clues…”

“It’s not a game if I don’t, is it?”

“Fine. A guy.”

You think for a moment. 

“It was Sweet Child O’ Mine by Guns n’ Roses.”

Logan widens his eyes, genuinely impressed that you got it so fast…

“Holy shit.”

…But the grin which crosses your face suggests you’re playing a trick. 

“I hear you hum it a lot. It wasn’t a big leap, honestly,” you confess. He chuckles, but pauses for a second as he realises the implication of this discovery. 

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I like that song too.”

You don’t seem saddened by this conversation, so he guesses it’s okay - he’d never wanna hurt you by dredging up the past. Maybe it’s okay. Maybe it’s okay to reminisce about what used to be, while knowing what you have now is so strong and secure. 

Logan pulls back to look at you, attempting to affect seriousness but knowing he could never fool you for a second. 

“So you cheated, huh… doesn’t seem very fair…”

“Hmm, you’re right. I guess I’ll have to forfeit…”

You slide off his thighs and onto your knees in front of him, grinning as you go for his belt… but pausing so that you can use your powers to turn off the radio. 

“Unless you want to come to Brian Johnson’s voice, but it doesn’t do it for me personally.”

He laughs, actually belly laughs, and if the two of you aren’t engaged by the time the week is out he’ll be damned.

He’s able to go to a jeweller’s the next week under the guise of finally going to the city and getting glasses, and buys the perfect ring there and then. It must be fate that they have it in your size, a silver band and pretty stone. The caveat of this is, that for the ruse to work, he does actually also have to go to the opticians.

He comes back with a small pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and a chip on his shoulder about the fact they make him see so much better. You seem pleased though, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and kissing the bridge of his nose.

“You look very handsome.”

“Mmmm…” he grumbles. You laugh and kiss him again.

“What are you doing today?”

“Workin’ on something.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a secret, can’t tell ya.”

You harrumph.

“A secret, huh…?”

“A surprise, then.”

You sigh dramatically.

“Well, okay. If it’s a surprise I suppose I’ll let it slide. The girls and I were gonna head into town to go shopping anyway so I guess I’ll see you tonight?”

You kiss farewell and when he’s sure you’ve left the manor he heads to the garage. It doesn’t take much searching to find his old Harley, hidden under a dust sheet and waiting patiently for his return. Logan can’t help the smile at the old thing, running his hand along the neglected metal frame and scaring a spider from its perch.

“Sorry I was gone for so long, baby,” he rumbles, then gets to work.

The next few days are tough. He doesn’t want to ruin the surprise, but you’re clever, always investigating without meaning to, noticing when he trips up on an inconsistency. So whenever you try and weasel information out of him he simply refuses to answer. You’re grumpy, sure, but he can think of a few ways to make it up to you.

He’s nervous in a way he hasn’t been for… well, a while. He’s sure you’ll say yes. You’ll say yes, right? You’ve already been married once before – to him – so the odds are in his favour, but still, he gets a churning feeling in his stomach when he looks at the little box. Anxiety. He’s far too fucking old to be anxious like a schoolgirl asking out a crush, he feels goddamn ridiculous…

But.

But.

What will he do if you say no?

Ah, he can’t dwell on it for too long. Logan channels all of his effort into fixing up the bike - even allowing Laura to join in when she crosses her heart not to tell you - and plans ahead. Checks the weather. Picks his favourite shirt. 

Takes the plunge.

That morning Logan asks you to prepare a picnic and then meet him outside the manor. You look up at him from the reflection in your boudoir mirror as Carole King floats from the radio, an eyebrow arched.

“Oh? Why?”

“C’mon, I haven’t cracked yet. You think you’re gonna get me now?”

You pout. You’re cute. He drops a kiss on the top of your head.

“It’ll be worth the wait.”

“Well-ll-ll… okay. I’ll trust you. Shall I wear those jeans? The ones which make my ass look great?”

“Baby, all jeans make your ass look great. You have a great ass.”

You grin and scurry over to the wardrobe.

He heads downstairs and brings the Harley round front, fingers tapping nervously on the hand clutch as he waits. For the millionth time he checks his pockets. Yep, ring still there. 

As you leave the front door, basket nestled in the crook of your arm, the smile which crosses your face is the same as if you’re seeing an old friend again.

“Oh my god! I had no idea this thing was still kicking around!”

You run the last few steps and put your hand on her chassis. You genuinely look a bit choked up.

“Fixed her up so I could take you for a ride.”

Your expression is so soft, so loving when you look at him.

“Logan… that’s so sweet.”

Stepping forward to press up against him you pull him in for a kiss, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He hums against your lips.

“Put a helmet on,” he says, handing one to you as you stow the basket. You fix him with an old-fashioned look as he presents it to you. It’s bright pink and has Barbie written across the side.

“God damn you Logan Howlett…”

“You liked the damn film. Keep hearing you sing that stupid song to yourself.”

You harrumph but don’t deny it, instead fastening the helmet on and climbing up onto the seat behind him.

It feels good when your arms tighten around him for support. Always feels good when your arms are around him, honestly, no matter what the cause. He revs the engine loudly a couple of times making you giggle, then speeds off.

He feels your fingers tighten in his shirt as he drives, weaving between whatever cars happen to dot the road as he goes. He’s not had a bike between his thighs for years now but you never really forget how to ride one. Besides, with you as his cargo, he makes sure to go safe. When he was a younger man he’d have been pushing the Harley to her limits just to get his blood pumping… nowadays he’s happy to take it slower. The longer the ride, the longer you’re pushed up against him, after all.

He’s still such a sucker for your touch.

It’s a nice day, and when he eventually slows down to the old lookout spot he used to take you to, you grin as you see the familiar view.

“It’s been a long time,” you sigh, eyes sparkling in the sun. You smooth your hair down where the helmet has taken its toll and start to lay out the treats you’ve packed onto a gingham blanket: thick-filled sandwiches, a fruit salad, a whole apple pie which Logan has no idea how you smuggled out. Fuck. He is so lucky to have you.

He sits and forces himself to eat, knowing the ring is hidden away in his pocket. You’re happy to take the lead on the conversation as you always are, chatting about your classes in between bites of roast beef, but cock your head to the side when a period of silence goes on for too long.

“Something’s on your mind.”

“What?” he asks, silently cursing himself for being so obvious. You reach out to rest a hand over his.

“Is there something you wanna talk about, Logan? It’s okay if there is. We can face it together, you know. We’re a team.”

As you let that sink in with him you wave your hand to bring out a thermos from the basket. It pours out two cups of coffee, both black, and you float one over to each of you.

He watches this with sharp eyes.

“You didn’t add any creamer,” he says softly. You smile, using your free hand to lift the cup to your lips.

“What can I say? I guess you got to me.”

You’re finally a coffee purist.

Logan blinks, taking in the sincere look on your face. There is only absolute adoration written there. It is a plain and simple fact: you love him more than he thought anyone could ever love him.

After a beat, he pulls his hand away.

He shifts to one knee.

Your eyes go wide.

“Logan…?”

“I gotta… you gotta let me talk. I need to get this out,” he says, slipping his hand in his pocket to grab the ring box. You cover your mouth in shock. “You’ve made me a better man. And more importantly you make me want to be one. I wanna spend the rest of our lives together because I’d be a goddamn idiot not to.” He opens the hinge and the ring shines where it’s seated in velvet. “Will you marry me?”

“Oh shit,” you say, then you do something unexpected. You throw your head back and laugh. 

Of all the reactions he was not expecting that.

Logan’s hands dip a little. What the fuck? Is this a rejection? Did he screw this up, monumentally misread the signs between the two of you? Are you having some sorta episode? What has happened to prompt this?

“Oh, baby, no - don’t be sad! Just… hang on…” you say when you see how his face has fallen. He watches as you root around in the picnic basket. “You won’t believe this…”

You shift to one knee…

…and pull out a ring box of your own.

Logan’s mouth falls open as you present a ring to him. A plain gold band, shiny and new - one you’ve had made specially for him. 

“I got your size from my Logan’s old ring. I’ve had it for days just waiting for the right moment and… I guess you have too.”

This information settles around him like a deep, sudden snowfall. His eyes can’t leave the little box you’ve pulled out. 

A smile creeps over his face.

“Holy shit,” he laughs, echoing your sentiment from earlier, and then suddenly you’re laughing too, head thrown back in utter joy. You throw yourself into his arms and press kisses all over his face: his beard, the end of his nose, all over his cheekbones, and then finally his mouth. He can feel the tears spill over your eyelashes and dampen his face, and holy fuck is he in love with you.

“So is that a ‘yes’?” he asks against your lips. He can feel your grin under his mouth.

“Depends if it’s a ‘yes’ from you.”

“Of course. I want you to make an honest man of me.”

“Then fuck yeah. I’ll marry you, Logan Howlett.”

Another glorious, effervescent peal of laughter falls from you and then you’re kissing him again. Together your hands fumble in order to exchange rings, a difficult task when neither of you will open your eyes and break lips, but eventually he manages to slide his ring on your finger and feels you exchange your own.

It feels good. It feels right.

Logan pushes you back onto the blanket, picnic forgotten for the moment. His mouth turns from sweet to hungry as he uses his body to cage you in. His hands drop to the hem of your shirt and start to pull it up so he can trace the bared line of your chest. 

“Logan, here?” you ask in a way which suggests here is great, actually. 

“Why not? Nobody watching. Just you and me, honey.”

He wins you over easily with that argument and your hands go for the top buttons of his flannel. When you find your fingers aren’t doing a fast enough job you start using telekinesis to undo them from the bottom, too. He drops his grip to your hips and fiddles with your belt and the fly on your jeans, groaning with pleasure at how easily you accommodate him and lift your hips so he can strip you.

“Fuck. You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he growls. His hand skims your underwear and takes a handful of your ass - god he loves your ass - as you rid him of his shirt so you can run your palms over the thick plain of muscle in his back.

“Look who’s talking,” you breathe against him, biting down on his bottom lip and tugging at it. Electricity shoots through him.

“Harder,” he mutters. You oblige him and sink your teeth in just enough for a little blossom of blood to spill into his mouth.

He’s going to go crazy right here on this blanket, you will drive him to insanity. What bliss. 

He kicks off his jeans and starts grinding his clothed cock against the fabric covering your cunt, like two teenagers so desperate to get off that they don’t even bother to get naked first. His blunt head catches on your clit and you groan at where you can feel him leaking.

“Love it when you fuck me, Logan,” you sigh. He’s not sure if it’s pride or arousal which throbs through him, probably both, but he realises then he has to do now what he should have done a long time ago.

Claws come out, he cuts your underwear off and you squeal in delight. For a moment he considers just sliding inside but if he’s going to do this, it has to be done properly.

So he pushes your legs upwards against your stomach, in a way which he knows your hips will complain about but your pussy will love. Your mouth is a soft little o as you realise you are being manhandled into a mating press. 

“Logan…?” you breathe, a little confused but giddy with pleasure, sucking air in sharply when he rolls his hips to try and slide his cock inside your wet heat. 

“Wanna put a baby in you,” he states, simply, growling it out. Your eyes roll back and you moan at his words, what a pretty sight. 

“But we… oh fuck… I don’t know if we can…”

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he manages, pressing his hand to the soft paunch of your stomach under which your womb sits, “let me try.”

Your eyes go wide as your head empties.

“Okay, yeah. Do it. Fuck a baby inside me, Logan.”

What sort of loyal dog would he be if he didn’t follow orders?

His legs trap yours against your body as he starts fucking you in earnest, pressing home inside you with one rough thrust. You mewl and knead at his skin with worshipping hands as he moves. Each undulation of his hips buries himself in you impossibly deeper, so he knows when he spills inside you it’ll be right where it needs to take.

“Fuck…” you hiss, palm cupping his face so he can look down at you, gaze on your gorgeous face. The crease of concentration between your brows as you register how tightly he’s nestled inside you, lips soft and kissable. Your hair blooms like a halo, an angel silhouetted against gingham.

He loves you. Oh, how he loves you.

“Wanna be so full of you, Logan… want to walk around with your baby in me. Show everyone who I belong to.”

He growls but he also knows he belongs to you, too. You have his heart in your ribcage beating alongside your own, a thing he has freely given because you’re the person who most deserves it. He’d never want it to rest with anyone but you.

Logan moves his hips in slow, sensual movements, taking time to luxuriate in the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of your walls. When he presses back inside he sees the way your eyes roll back as he hits that sweet spot, gloriously blissful.

“Gonna take you somewhere nice n’ quiet on our honeymoon and keep you in bed, doll. Fuck you until you’re full. Not gonna stop until we’re sure it’s taken. Watch you get all round with me. Goddamn, can just imagine how you’ll glow.”

You gasp at the filth he’s muttering but the grin on your lips show you’re incredibly enthusiastic about that idea.

“Yeah… want you to fuck me whenever you want, Logan… bend me over and fill me up… I’m yours, only yours…”

Something about the way you sigh that last part flips a feral switch in his brain. His hips speed up and the slap of skin on skin echoes from your hips, and then he’s coming in thick ropes to paint the inside of your pretty pussy. Mark you up as his. You groan at the feeling of warmth blossoming inside you but he knows you haven’t reached your peak yet. Usually he’d make sure you orgasm before him… but he has something a little different in mind right now.

Logan slips out of you and you mewl in the displeasure of being emptied. This doesn’t stop him manoeuvring your ass into his lap, though, keeping your legs spread so he can push three fingers inside your warm and willing entrance. A groan rips itself from your throat as you clamp desperate fingers down on his forearm. Were he a human man you’d leave fingerprints for certain, and for a moment Logan regrets that you can’t — he’d love evidence of this tryst; apart from your growing belly, of course.

“Fuck. Yes, Logan, push it inside me,” you whine. Oh goddamn, he’s so easily broken when you beg. He uses his fingers to gather up his spend as it tries to leak from your fucked-puffy cunt and presses it back into your hole. As he goes he makes sure to crook them inside you, hitting the same spot he was with his cock just moments ago.

All you can do is hang on and choke down air as he fucks you with his hand. He’s an expert at your body, can play it like an instrument; it doesn’t take long to get you where he needs you. He feels your walls twitch and then you’re coming around his knuckles, a filthy mix of his release and your own dripping all the way down to his wrist.

You collapse back onto the blanket, gasping for breath as your wits return. As he slowly pulls his hand away from you, you reach out to grab him and pull him to your mouth, sucking the cocktail of you both from his fingers and running your tongue around him.

He groans.

“Fuck. You’re gonna ruin me.”

“But what a way to go, huh?” your smile is devilish. He can’t help but reach down and kiss it. Your hand tangles in his hair and scratches his scalp affectionately. 

A beat.

“So… we’re trying?”

You don’t need to specify for what. He knows. When Logan pulls back there’s an expression of barely-concealed hope on your face. Makes his heart melt. His fingers move to lock with yours, squeezing gently down on your knuckles.

“Yeah. We’re trying.”

He’s never seen you look so happy. You trace your abdomen with a careful hand. The ring he got you glints on it, the stone reflecting the sunshine. 

“Well, okay then.”

It doesn’t take long for news of your engagement to spread. You tell Laura who puts it in a group chat she has with the other students in the mansion, and from there it has no chance of staying secret. In fact you return after you finish the picnic (and an attempt to tidy yourselves up) to a chorus of ‘congratulations’ from a gathered crowd at the door. Logan pretends to be grumpy but honestly? He wouldn’t trade the look of joy on your face for anything. He shows off his ring alongside yours and people coo with adoration at how cute you both are.

Once he’d have snarled at ‘cute’. Now he just accepts it as you snuggle into his side. 

You go to meet up with Wade and Al a couple of days later to tell them but it turns out word travels fast. The apartment door is thrown open in your faces as Wade pours accusingly. 

“I can’t believe I had to find out about this via social media from a teenage girl! What am I, back in high school? Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t want to deal with puberty again, it wasn’t kind to me,” he says, waving his phone at you to show a cheerful post about the engagement put up by Yukio. Logan doesn’t get a good look, but does see the words “still find love in old age” which makes him bristle.

“Sorry, Wade. But you know, we live in the same house as her,” you say, sounding genuinely quite apologetic. Wade deflates a little at your tone, but keeps the act up anyway.

“Big-ass house. Coulda kept your damn hands in your pockets…” he mutters, but then gives you a sincere hug. When he turns with his arms open to Logan, he sighs and accepts one too. “But really, I’m happy for you two. Just don’t forget about your old perpetually single buddy Deadpool when you’re off bumping uglies as a legally wedded couple…”

“I think I might try and forget you during those times actually, Wade,” you say with a laugh. 

“Hmm. Oh wait, holy shit - can I be your best man? I promise you I scrub up pretty well. Well, apart from the face. Mmm, and the rest of my body. My ass looks great in a suit is what I’m saying,” this is directed at you and you give Wade a sad smile.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry, I already asked Laura. We kinda trauma bonded in the Void,” you say. Wade’s eyes slide over from you to Logan.

“Oh my god,” he grumbles.

“C’mon, peanut! Isn’t that what best friends are for?”

Logan opens his mouth to snap that they are not best friends but then… he just sort of… closes it. He’s too old to have a best friend. Grown men don’t have best friends. Or at least that’s what he’d have said a scant few months ago. But now…

“Fine,” he sighs. Logan feels you squeeze his hand in joy as Wade lets out a woop which startles Al.

“Yes! I won’t let you down buddy. I’m gonna give you the best dry bachelor party of your life. The strippers will be so hot you won’t even need beer to make them look good!”

“Wade…”

“Joking! Joking…” he says, in a way which suggests he probably wasn’t - though about the quality of the strippers or there being any in the first place, he can’t be sure.

The two of you don’t want a big wedding. You had one in your own timeline and know how stressful it can be. You’re both able to come to the same reasoning: it isn’t the size of the celebration which matters, but that you’ll be married by the end of it. That’s what it’s all leading to after all. Every morning Logan wakes up to the weight of your ring on his finger and he feels complete. He feels grounded. 

He’s happier than he’s been in a long time; maybe ever.

You book a day to go down to city hall and sign the marriage certificates, only in a couple of weeks’ time. The kids all make you cards, shoving them under your door or handing them over during lessons. Soon your room is covered with crayon-scribbled well-wishes and poorly drawn felt-tip depictions of you both. Mostly, it’s you smiling, and Logan snarling with his claws out. You laugh every single time you see one, so he doesn’t mind too much. There are always little love hearts doodled between you anyway. At least the kids know you’re happy together.

Time moves by quickly but maybe that’s just a symptom of being in love. Classes no longer drag on and drain him, instead Logan starts every morning with the vigour of a young man… though the fact that he fills you up every morning before you both head to work might help. It’s strange; you never use protection anyway, but now it feels like there’s a purpose behind the way you fuck. Any position where he gets to see your face as he comes deep inside you will do it for him honestly. He could live in your cries of pleasure, the way you mewl his name, the duty of putting a baby inside you. Before long, those couple of weeks the city hall needed to get your paperwork in order are up, and the day arrives that you’re finally able to go and make things official. 

Logan wakes in bed alone. This is expected. He came home late last night after his bachelor party which, to be fair to Wade, wasn’t so bad. The guy had just organised some friends to play poker late into the night. Due to - what Laura has coined as - his natural ‘resting bitch face’, he cleared everyone out. He’s two hundred and sixty dollars richer so now he can grab you some nice flowers on the way to the wedding. He’d gotten a text saying that you were staying at a hotel in town for the night, the girls had insisted on keeping you separate because it’s tradition. Logan isn’t sure what about this whole situation is exactly traditional, what with all the crossed timelines and long-lost soulmates, but if it makes you all happy he’ll relent.

He showers, missing your body in the steam with him, then walks naked back into the room to grab something nice to wear, fingers fumbling with the radio as he goes. It picks up just as the host is introducing the next song.

“...goes out to Logan from ‘the love of your life’, who is pretty sure you’ll have the radio on by now! Apparently you’re getting married today? Well a big congratulations from everyone here at the station, you two, enjoy this classic tune…”

Chapel of Love by the Dixie Cups starts to spill out from the speakers and Logan chuckles, grabbing his phone and tapping out a message.

Cute.

You text back almost immediately. He can imagine you grinning at your screen as the music plays, waiting for his reaction.

I am. Can’t wait to see you today, baby ♥

Yeah, he can’t wait to see you either.

Seeing as it’s meant to be a relaxed ceremony you’d both decided not to wear anything too formal. Logan pulls out a white dress shirt and a fresh pair of jeans, toeing on the boots he cleaned last night. He looks at himself in the mirror before deciding to roll his sleeves up to his elbow. For some reason you go crazy when you can see his exposed forearms; you say it’s “pure unadulterated sex appeal”. He’s never understood it himself but anything to make you smile. 

Laura grabs a ride with him in the pickup he uses. She’s wearing leggings and a baggy suit blazer but he has to admit, the kid looks pretty cool. Despite his several warnings not to she sits with her feet on the dash playing with her phone, calling him a boring old man for not wanting her to go through the windscreen. 

“Remember I heal like you, dummy. It’s no problem.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want you turning up to my wedding covered in glass with your clothes ripped to shit.”

She grumbles and relents, ever the petulant teenager.

He manages to get parking nearby, so someone up above must be smiling down on him, takes the short walk to the city hall - making sure to get a ridiculously large bouquet as he goes. As he takes in the smell of roses he realises it isn’t that he’s feeling nervous per se, but there’s definitely an anticipation running up his spine. Realistically he knows nothing will change when the two of you are married on paper.

But… kinda everything will change.

He spots you talking to Wade on the grey stone steps, and his mouth is pulled into a smile at the cute little dress you’re wearing. You had been going on about how you picked it up at the thrift store - what a bargain! - and now he sees it, he agrees about how it highlights your figure perfectly. You light up when you see him… and Wade’s face falls as he turns.

“What the fuck! I thought this was a wedding?! Now I look like I’m in a competition for most formally dressed dickhead!” he says, gesturing to himself. He’s in a full black tuxedo and is definitely the most suited up person for about five blocks.

“It is a wedding. Not my fault you never asked the dress code,” Logan states. You burst into laughter as Wade pouts, but he seems to be taking the ribbing pretty well. Your hand tangles into Logan’s. He looks at you.

“Hey,” you breathe, taking the flowers and taking a deep breath of their sweet smell. “Thank you, these are lovely.”

“You deserve the best, baby.”

“Aww. You know, look great.”

“So do you.”

“We scrub up pretty well, huh? Great choice on the sleeves, by the way.”

Logan smiles into the kiss he presses to your lips. Laura groans at the public display of affection.

“C’mon, your slot is coming up. You two wanna be late for your own wedding?”

And so you traipse up the stairs to the office where the smiling registrar has you fill out the paperwork to officially be married to each other. When you see Logan’s hands shake a little, you press your own to the small of his back and rub small soothing circles there. Wade and Laura cheer when you have your first kiss as a wedded couple and burst party poppers of confetti over you both. The group of you stand together and get a picture to celebrate the day: Logan’s arm around your waist while yours is secretly perched on his ass, Laura grinning and holding the bouquet for you, Wade laying across the front of you all Breakfast Club-like. 

Logan smiles so hard his face hurts.

It’s nice.

Though the two of you didn’t want a party it’s pretty hard to convince the kids at the manor of anything, so you get back to a banner reading congratulations! It’s held by your youngest students who cheer as the group of you get out of the pick-up. Yukio rushes in to give you a tight hug and you laugh, joyful at the love you’re walking into.

The dining room has been cleared to set up an impromptu celebration space. A metric tonne of pizza has been ordered and Piotr, the rather willing DJ, makes sure nothing pre-1989 is played. 

He’s never really been one for dancing, but when you drag him to the middle of the wooden floor and wrap your arms around his neck Logan can’t help but sway with you to all the cheesy love songs. You press your forehead to his, tips of your noses meeting. You breathe in harmony. You let the same air fill your lungs.

“I love you,” you sigh a dozen times over, dreamily.

“I love you too,” he breathes a dozen times back.

When you throw the bouquet that evening you’re in such a good mood you both forgive Wade for body-checking a kid to grab it out of the air.

Logan thinks about his life and smiles.

He’s got it pretty good.

He takes you on a honeymoon for a week to a little cabin in the woods he rented out. It’s in the wilderness, miles from anyone or anywhere, which means he’s able to do what he wants with you: have you naked the whole time.

The two of you don’t do anything but fuck, and you’re very down for it. Something about married life has you more horny than you’ve ever been before. For the first couple of days you hardly leave the bed, Logan only heading to the kitchen to grab you some food to keep your energy up between sessions, pumping you full of his come until you’re a sticky and sated mess. He feeds you slices of pie as you lay dazed on the mattress, a pillow under your hips to keep his spend from dripping out of you.

“Fuck, Logan, you’re gonna kill me,” you groan as he starts rocking his hardening cock up against you the fifth time that day.

“Nah, baby. You can take it.”

You fall asleep with him buried deep inside of you so that the thing waking you up the next morning is him rolling his hips. It’s a pretty fucking good way to start the day.

Eventually the two of you leave the bedroom and walk around the place. Autumn is coming in properly now, the green of the trees outside turning to reds and oranges. You wrap yourself in a blanket and stand at the huge windows looking out at the vista, your aesthete sensibilities pulling you there. Silhouetted in October’s light, Logan can only be struck by how perfect you are: your body, your heart, your soul. His, all his.

He’s the luckiest goddamn man alive.

He takes you against the windows, your chest pressed up against the cool glass and making you gasp in thrilled pleasure, rubbing loving circles on your clit until he feels you clench around him.

At night the two of you huddle by the wood-burning fireplace, the flames dancing across your bodies as he makes love to you slowly, non-hurriedly, letting you enjoy each other. You push him onto his back and ride him, head thrown back so he can appreciate the long line of your neck which he traces with thick calloused fingers.

Fuck, he’d keep you here forever if he could. A little slice of perfection made for just the two of you. Nobody to bother you or call you away for duties, just your love and all the space it needs.

It’s a shame when the two of you have to return to the manor, but he has a job to do. Kids to teach. A Wade to keep in check. It’s easy to slip back to day-to-day life, though, when he has a wedding ring on his finger and you in his bed.

That is until one day he finds you with your head in the toilet, emptying your guts of the day’s breakfast.

“Logan, I don’t feel so hot,” you groan. He goes into panic mode, worrying you’ve got some sorta bug, practically carrying you to Hank’s lab so the doctor can get a good look at you. When you get there, he doesn’t seem incredibly impressed, but checks you over diligently because he’s a friend. 

“Look, I don’t mean to be crass, but have you taken a pregnancy test?” he asks, bluntly. Your eyes go wide over the glass of water you’re sipping.

“Well, no, but…” you trail off. Logan can see you counting on your fingers, trying to make something add up in your brain.

“Ah. Right. I don’t have one but I do have an ultrasound scanner, it was one of the things Charles foresaw a use for I suppose…”

So Logan stands there as Hank wheels the thing out and has you lay down on a counter - this isn’t the med room after all, there’s no beds in here. Your hand grabs onto his as Hank carefully lifts your shirt and presses the wand to your stomach.

There’s no mistaking the image on the screen. Head, body, arms and legs. The baby’s picture thrums. Hank does not seem surprised.

“Yep, there it is. You’re pretty far along. I’m not an expert, but I’d say three months?”

“Three…!” you look at Logan as if this is his fault. Which, he supposes, it sort of is. “But we’ve only been… uh, trying for a few weeks now.”

Hank shifts uncomfortably. Logan wants to die. He does not want to talk about his sex life with a peer.

“Have you been using birth control?”

“Well, no, but…”

“Then I think you have your answer. Nature did what it does best.” He manages a smile. “Congratulations to you both. I’ll uh, let you have a moment alone.”

He practically runs out of the lab. The two of you are left sitting there in silence.

Then slowly, so slowly, your hand comes up to rest on your abdomen. You look down at the point of contact and tears well up in your eyes.

“Logan…”

With one word you summon him, his strong arms wrapping around you and holding you tight, an anchor in this moment of joy. He buries his lips into your hair as you sob, utterly overwhelmed.

“Fuck, we did it, baby,” you manage to choke out. His hand comes to rest on your own and then you switch, covering it with yours so that he can feel the skin of your belly. It’s warm and soft. It feels strange knowing that his child is in there. Strange but right.

He gave you what you deserve. His heart beats a little faster and he realises his vision is blurry, too. Fuck. Look at him, welling up. 

Ah man, he doesn’t care.

The kiss between you is wet and desperate, an act of triumph and elation. As his mouth presses deep into yours he feels you tug at his shirt, pawing at him like an animal.

“Honey, I’m not gonna fuck you in Hank’s lab,” he states. You whine beneath his lips.

“But I wanna celebrate…” you mewl, hitting him with the doe-eyes. He scoffs a laugh and you pout. “Besides the pregnancy hormones are driving me crazy.”

“You just found out.”

“Yeah, weird how quickly they can take effect…”

Logan gently but firmly removes your exploring hands.

“We can do it somewhere our friend and coworker doesn’t spend his whole day. C’mon,” he silences any protestations with another kiss, soft and loving, “we have all the time in the world, baby.”

You run your fingers through his hair, eyes still a little dewy, but smile is undeniable.

“All the time in the world…” you sigh, a promise. 

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk

those of you who liked part 1, too: @inumakisriceingredients @respectmyprivacys-blog @xcalcalcalcalx @moonixlity @justanothermarvelfanaccount @taraa-dactyl @nitimurinvetitumsposts @sseleniaa @diegobrandolover99 @blackcanvaspainting @youngestxhearts @veggie-eggrolls

[tra1nchi]

Hypnotizing while hes cumming idk?

Aaa I love this cuz I can use this for ANYTHING lololol

I've been on a total rant about Dr Ratio lately, idk if its cuz I've been looking at so many r34 comics of him but I need him hypnotised and bouncing on my dick eeepp

Hypnotised him while he's working,,he already wouldn't expect it so when your soothing voice starts to whisper in his ear,,he doesn't mind it probably expecting you to just be annoying or something

But he felt his mind start to drift away,, his head growing heavy as he slowly lets go off his pen,,Veritas couldn't think any longer and well,,he didn't want to,,why would anyone when you have the option of listening to a soothing voice everyday?

All he had to do was obey,,undressing for you,,allowing you to grope his tits (which jiggle this is canon i said so) and eventually impaling himself on your cock,,bouncing up and down so rhythmically he feels himself going deeper!!

Mindlessly slurring out that he's your good boy,,that he'd do anything to feel this relaxed everyday

When he finally cums,,his eyes roll back and he falls into the deepest trance ever,,it would feel so good for him to let his mind go,,no more stresses about aventurine or dumb people just pure bliss >□<

Now everyone is wondering why The Dr Ratio seems so calm lately or why he asked for a bigger chest window 🤭

[harunovella]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ safety net; t.f.

synopsis: when toji decided to be a good man and rescue two puppies for his son... content: canon divergence (I want a happy story for the fushiguro's!), fem!reader, reader is mamaguro, in this world your last name is fushiguro and toji took it bc f*ck the zenin, megumi is ur son (he's just a baby!), domestic bliss, not beta read (sorry for any errors!) note: seeing how successful my gojo anthology series is going (only two parts but going strong), I wanted to do one for toji bc I've always wanted to write his story with mamaguro (aka you!) and do a bunch of one shots that can be read as stand alones or together! pls lmk if you want more and if u wanna be tagged in the future <3 p.s. the divine dogs are actual dogs that inspired megumi's later manifestation of his shikigami in this au

It was one of those late nights for Toji. A summer evening with a heavy downpour to blur his path before him. The windshields were moving as fast as they could, swiftly clearing his vision with every wipe across the glass. He was quite used to this, running around town in the wee hours of the night, nothing new to him. It just annoyed him how difficult it could be driving in the rain when his windows fogged up and the headlights could only do so much. 

He wasn't too far from home, running a quick errand before returning to his abode, wanting nothing more than the warmth of his bed. 

A bed... A home...

Toji couldn't help but sigh and lean his head back against the car's headrest. Had this all been a dream? Was it real? Him, Zenin Toji, living a normal life? It had been quite some time now where he left it all behind to be domesticated—as if he were a wild animal. He didn't mind, though, a part of him was begging for a simple kind of life. 

Sat at a red light as his pointer finger tapped away against the leather steering wheel, his eyes wandered the environment around him—well, as much as he could see during an evening shower. From building to building, the empty sidewalks and dim storefronts, his eyes suddenly bounced back to a bus stop. Squinting, he leaned in before turning on his blinkers. 

This was very unlike him, his curiosity getting the best of him... Maybe it was because he was a changed man. Maybe it was because he had someone to go home to. Someone who made his deflated heart triple in size; someond who made him care about little things that he never did before.

Pulling over and parking his car next to the bus stop, Toji pulled up his hoodie and reached for the small umbrella that sat on the floor of the passenger seat. Rushing out and popping open the coverage, he stood before a small, cardboard box. 

It was falling apart, the rain tearing at the flimsy material as the little towel beneath was completely drenched. Hearing the faint whimpers and cries of the tiny creatures that stared up at him, Toji took in a sharp breath and shook his head. He was a good man now. Better than he ever was before. He had a heart. He had a home. He had someone who loved him. These little bodies did not. 

Lifting the box, he quickly maneuvered it underneath the umbrella before carefully placing it in the backseat of his car. "I hope she won't mind..." he said before making his way to the front, closing the umbrella and shutting the door after, resuming his route. 

The drive home was quicker this time around, zooming to gather the bags and box he had within the car, shutting the doors and locking them behind him before he made his way towards the front door. Taking the steps and fumbling with his keys, he unlocked the door and slipped inside before kicking off his shoes and making his way towards the living room. 

Settling the box down before moving towards the kitchen with the bag, he washed his hands and emptied the contents within it. Pulling out the small device, Toji made his way upstairs, ruffling his dark hair as he pressed a few buttons on the gadget. "Babe, this one should be fine," he spoke as he approached one of the two bedrooms. 

"Oh, good," the voice responded as he entered the room. You were sitting on your son's rocking chair, holding him close to your chest as you caressed his little back. He was about six months old and the constant change in weather was getting to him, causing a slight cold to disrupt his immunity. It pained both of you to see your boy anything but happy and healthy... but, he was such a little trooper. Both of you weren't sure where he got his calmness from, seeing as you nor Toji were such a way, but you thanked the heavens for blessing you with a child like him. 

"How's Megs doin'?" Toji asked as he handed you the new thermometer, squatting and gently caressing his son's head. His hand practically engulfed it, always entertaining him how tiny his boy was. It brought a small smile to his face. "Doesn't seem so fussy."

"A bit better, I got him to fall asleep. You weren't gone for too long, thankfully," you sweetly smiled, settling the small device down before caressing Toji's face. "Raining hard, huh?"

"Yeah," he nodded, only to widen his eyes. 

"What is it?" You furrowed your eyebrows. 

Scratching the back of his head, Toji stood up. "Got a surprise along the way... hope you don't mind."

"What do you mean?" You tilted your head. 

"Let's go downstairs," he nudged his own, waving you to follow him. 

Standing up carefully as to not wake your baby boy, you followed your man down the hall and staircase, towards your living room. You were confused at first, unsure as to what surprise he could've gotten you. But then you heard it. The faint cries and rustling coming from a box. The box in front of you. "Toji..."

"You've changed me, y'know?" He said. "I wouldn't have cared back then, would've left them suffer... but, guess it's because I'm a father now and I have you... I couldn't let them die out there..." rubbing the back of his neck as he stood by the box, you curiously peeked over before gasping. "Thought it would be nice to keep 'em... give Megs something to grow with."

"Toji... there's two," you nearly whispered, eyeing the puppies. One in pure white and one in all black, both equally precious. Tiny, scared, cold... you couldn't deny them either, even if you were currently raising your own baby. 

"Yeah..." Toji sighed. "I was thinkin' about giving them a quick bath now and take them to the vet early tomorrow. Don't have much to feed them but we can make it work, right?" He said, keeping his eyes on them, a bit afraid of your reaction. 

As upset as you should've been, seeing as it was two more mouths to feed, instead, you felt... elated? You weren't sure why, maybe it was because you were seeing more and more sides of Toji you didn't think would exist. Or maybe you loved the idea of giving your son two furry best friends to grow with. It could've also been that you were just happy that your son was okay and getting through his cold that you couldn't be as bothered. 

It also didn't help that you may or may not have mentioned a few times (while taking your strolls during your pregnancy) that your little blessing should have some furry friends around. You just didn't think it would happen... this way. 

"So?" Toji asked, looking at you with timid eyes. "Can we keep 'em?"

"Toji," you chuckled. "I'm not going to abandon these poor babies. You brought them here, you're gonna have to do a lot of raising. You're now a father of three," you teased as he nodded. 

"I'm well aware."

"I'm surprised you're okay with this, let alone, brought them," you pointed out. 

Shrugging, he looked back down. "Like I said, it's cause you changed me and I'm a father now. As scary as that is... I dunno... guess I want that normal life and normal people have dogs, right?" Seeing you nod with a small smile, Toji couldn't help but reflect your facial expression. "I wanna give him everything I've never had," he nudged his head in Megumi's direction. 

"Such a good dad," you softly spoke, caressing your sons back before stepping closer and kissing Toji's arm. "Then I guess we have two puppies now. What should we name them?"

Eyeing the two, Toji hummed. "Kuro and Shiro."

[eddiediazismyhusband]

thinking about the possibility of eddie’s sexuality crisis coming after buddie canon like…

he and buck start dating and in eddie’s mind he’s justifying it like ��i’m not really into men im just into buck” and buck is the supportive boyfriend bc obviously eddie’s the only one who knows himself, and eddie labeling himself doesn’t matter to buck bc all that matters is that they’re the happiest they’ve ever been together

but then they have sex for the first time (obviously we don’t see anything bc this is abc not hbo) but while buck is in this perfectly blissed out state, eddie is panicking bc holy shit… is that what sex is supposed to feel like? like i thought i enjoyed sex before because i got off and that was that but this was…. what the fuck?????

and we get this sort if spiral moment where eddie wonders if he’s been gay this whole time and has just been lying to himself and is wondering what that means for him and shannon? like yeah he moved on from her but… looking back did he ever really need to? were the feelings for his girlfriends just misplaced feelings for buck this whole time? has he always felt this way?

and it gets to a point where buck thinks eddie is pulling away from him, and he gets really in his head about it remembering when eddie said that sex just complicates things, and how eddie had that whole crisis over marisol, and then buck had broken up with temu and chris was in texas so both of them were in weird places mentally and oh my god did i force myself on him? is he miserable bc he realized im not actually what he wants? is he going to leave me like everyone else does?

and meanwhile eddie is in therapy telling frank that he’s never felt this way about anyone before and that he thought he was enjoying sex before but it had never been anything like what it was with buck- that before it had been a means to an end but with buck it just felt right… and then frank has a really deep conversation about sexuality and eddie’s catholic guilt and explains that only eddie can decide if labeling himself is important or not

then we get eddie making a choice to either label himself or to not label himself (bc all that matters is that bucn is who he wants to be with; im not picky bc i have always been a gay/demi eddie truther, but unlabeled eddie has so much playing room and they could explore so much with that but i also know that realistically they probably wouldn’t put that much thought into the actual label but i digress)

and then we get a Kitchen Scene™️ where they are both super quiet and eddie tells buck they need to talk; buck automatically assumes eddie’s breaking up with him and starts apologizing to eddie and telling him he will give eddie some time and space, telling eddie that he will move on eventually like he has from everyone else. eddie is like “what?” and buck is like “aren’t you breaking up with me?” and eddue is horrified bc oh my god have i really been that distant? has my crisis really pushed me away that much that i made him think i wouldn’t tilt the earth on its axis for him if he asked??? and eddie explains his side of things, ending his little speech by saying “i love you” for the first time, and buck gets teary eyed and says it back and they share a soft kiss and eddie is like “it’s never felt like that before” and buck admits “it’s never felt like that for me either… but i think that’s what being in love does” and the episode ends with a fade to black of eddie leading buck out of the kitchen and down the hallway

[mrsnegan]

Daddy's home | Round I

Pairing: Billy Butcher x f!Reader x Joe Kessler (The Boys)

Read part II here.

Summary: Billy comes home to a surprising view.

Warnings: smut, threesome, fingering, pussy slapping, edging, lots of fluids, spitting, voyeurism, daddy!kink, sir!kink, m!masturbation, m!oral, lots of swearing, degradation but also praise, unprotected p in v, creampie, facial, mentions of anal, overstimulation, no aftercare

A/N: I can't help it, Billy and Joe have me all drippin'. 🥵 Let's pretend this right here is canon. 😉

"Don't break her, Kessler."

Billy Butcher's voice is deep and laced with mischief. You try to open your eyes, but Joe Kessler's fingers, deep inside your quivering pussy, make your body react on its own.

"Nah, not done with her yet. Though she likes it rough, doesn't she?" he asks and you can feel him grin against your shoulder. He retreats his fingers from your hole and lands a couple of quick slaps against your already puffy lower lips, a few of them grazing your clit.

You should be ashamed of yourself for liking his treatment, but your moans betray you.

"See? All slippery and fucking shaking in my lap."

You are on full display, naked from the waist down, top pulled down to expose your breasts. Each of your quivering legs is draped over Joe's strong thighs, his trousers already pooling at his ankles, cock trapped between your bodies. He already edged you for what felt like forever, leaning back into the armchair as if he would do this every day.

"I see," you hear Billy now, footsteps getting closer and closer. "Why the fuck did you start without me?"

Joe laughs against your skin, fingers dipping back into your heat.

"Well, Billy, I greeted her with 'Daddy's home' and she practically dropped to her knees to suck my fat dick. Who could let such an eager little slut wait?"

His fingers pumped faster and faster inside of you, heel of his palm meeting your clit.

"Didn't let her cum though."

You could feel it, the heat travelling through your veins, the unmistakable feeling of euphoria, but as soon as you begin to spasm around Joe's fingers, they are gone again. Instead, he lands one rather harsh slap against your folds, making you whimper.

"Only good sluts get to cum and you, baby? You didn't earn it yet." He playfully bites into you shoulder, soothing the mark with his tongue.

"Go show Billy some love. He dealt with those motherfucking supes all day. Bet he needs some good and slick pussy to calm the fuck down. Or your pretty little mouth."

With fluttering lids you open your eyes, trying to blink away soft tears of sheer pleasure being robbed from you right at the edge of oblivion.

"There she is," Billy whispers with an outstreched hand. "C'mere."

With aching bones you climb from Joe's lap, taking his hand and dropping to your knees in front of Billy who looks at you with dark eyes.

"What a view to come home to." With a sinister smirk he opens his belt, then the button and zipper of his jeans.

"Hands behind your back, sweet thing," he instructs, letting go of your hand.

You do as he says, waiting for him to feed you his length. When he pulls down his jeans with his underwear, you moan lightly at the side. He's hard already, big and veiny, ready to claim your mouth.

"Open up for daddy," you hear Joe behind you. He must have taken off his trousers and the rest of his suit too because when he steps behind you, you can feel his skin on yours. He collects your hair into a makeshift pony, forcing you to tilt your head backwards.

Opening your mouth as wide as you could, tongue sticking out, you look up at him through your lashes. He spits into your waiting mouth, making you groan and shift from side to side, searching for some friction between your aching thighs.

"Swallow."

You do as he says, bathing in his proud grin.

Without further words, he guides your head to Billy's cock, pushing you down, down, down until you gag around his length.

"Fucking shit," Billy mutters, head thrown back in bliss.

Joe pulls you off his cock. You gulp down air before he presses you down again.

"Here buddy, she's yours. Need my hands to rub one out if you don't mind," Joe says, letting go of your hair.

"Motherfuckin' perve." Billy laughs out of breath, his fingers sinking into your hair, fucking himself into your mouth with shallow thrusts.

"Oh c'mon, who walked in on us having a little fun and wanted to get that dick wet too?"

"Couldn't resist when you offered her like this. Eyes open baby, want to see you."

Your nails bite into the flesh of your thighs while you look up at Billy who fucks your face faster and faster, eyes wild with a burning desire. Your eyes water from the intrusion, it's hard for you to keep them open. The noises you make are nasty, spit dripping from your mouth while Billy uses you to get himself off.

"Yeah, just like this," Billy groans before pushing you away from him some moments later. Your lungs are burning when you suck in the much needed air. He fists his cock with hard tugs before he paints your face in his pearly white spent, some of his come landing on your waiting tongue. You close your eyes and swallow as much of it as you can. "Good fucking slut, damn...fuuuck. Look at me."

"T-thank you, Sir," you breath, voice coarse and needy when you look up at him.

"There he is!" Joe hollers behind you. His gaze meets Billy's after some seconds. Joe still fucks his fist, spitting into the palm of his hand. "Now she looks like the cockslut she is. Good fucking job, Butcher. Mind if I make a mess of her too?"

Billy laughs at his friend, shaking his head in amusement. "Go ahead." Then he looks down at you. "Tell him what you want, baby."

With shaking legs and burning knees, you turn around to Joe. You feel Billy's come running down your face. It should scare and embarrass you but it makes you clench around nothing while you look at the older man with desperation.

"Please...please daddy, fuck me."

Joe chuckles amused, hand still stroking his cock. "She does have manners after all. C'mere, baby, you still remember how to take a seat on daddy's lap, don't you?"

His words make your cheeks burn, but you obey, of course you do. On wobbly legs you make your way over to Joe. When you want to straddle him, he tuts and motions for you to turn around. "Remember, we wanted to give Billy a show. Let him see how goddamn wet your pussy is from him cumming all over your face."

"Yes, daddy," you babble while you climb on top of him again, your back to his front, legs draped over his thighs.

His cock rubs through your sodden folds before he enters you with one swift thrust, pushing you down onto him.

"Fuuuck," you wail, feeling so incredibly full.

"Can't get enough cock, can you? Little cockslut needs to be stuffed," Joe whispers against your ear while his hands guide your hips up and down.

"What a damn nice view," Billy says while he sinks down into the sofa opposite the armchair. He doesn't bother to put himself away nor cleaning his own cum from his hand. He just looks at your quivering form and where Joe drives himself into you again and again. "Make her squirt for me. Like old times."

Joe laughs behind you, one of his hands returning to your pussy. He rubs you in tight circles, his cock filling you perfectly.

"You want to cum all over me, baby? I can hear it already. Ask him. Go on." He slaps your pussy again, the wet sounds obscene in your own ears.

"Fuuuck...Billy, please....may I....fuck- may I come please? Please Sir. Need to..."

"Cum baby, cum all over him."

As soon as Billy's rough voice travels to your ears, you errupt. Joe slips out of you while your orgasm takes over your whole body. Spurts of clear liquid hit the carpet between your shaking legs. Joe doesn't relent, his fingers keep on rubbing and slapping your pussy, the wet sounds and your moans drowning out everything else.

"Fucking shit, baby, such a perfect slut," Billy praises, though you can't hear a thing, your mind is somewhere else entirely.

When you sink against Joe bonelessly, he guides himself back into your used channel, fucking into you with abandon.

"Fuck yes, baby, take my fucking cum." His thrusts border on painful, but you don't mind, not really. You still leak around his length with every inch he feeds your pussy. When he finally cums, he moans loudly, pressing your oversensitive body down into his lap, holding you there while he pumps you full to the brim.

"Damn," you hear Billy's voice, somewhere far, far away. "You think she can handle her asshole stuffed too?"

Joe's laugh is deep and full of mischief. He lifts your body from his cock, observing his cum slowly trickling down your wet thighs.

"Let's find out."

[morning-star-joy]

some sweet ending

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x F!Reader

Summary: A lazy night of domestic bliss.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI Smut. Handjob, v fingering. Domestic life kink, competence kink, praise kink. Sub!Arthur. Vocal!Arthur. Subtle orgasm denial. Premature ejaculation if you squint. Established relationship/marriage. Chubby!Arthur. Mention of past canon-typical violence. Cigarette smoking. Mention of food/eating. Post-Canon, no TB, Arthur Morgan gets a happy ending with lots of love and orgasms. Arthur's POV.

Wordcount: 1.9k

masterlist || ko-fi || updates blog

dividers by @saradika

The unbearable heat of the summer day eases just slightly as it transitions to night, but it still leaves a light sheen of sweat on Arthur’s skin as he lays back on the bed, naked as the day he was born to try and combat the heat.

“Hotter than the devil’s asscrack out there,” he grunts, brushing a hand through his hair, still damp from the bath you’d forced him to take after a long day of hard work out in the sun. 

Not sharing my sheets with a smelly, sticky ol’ cowboy, you’d ordered him towards the bath you’d drawn with a pointed look, and he was off to do what you commanded with little more than a sigh.

You hum beside him at his crude comment on the weather, curled up on your side and facing away from him, turning another page in the new dime novel you’d coaxed him to pick up on his latest run into town for supplies. “Charming.”

“That’s what they always call me,” he sighs out sarcastically, and you do huff a quiet laugh at that. It’s a beautiful sound, your laughter; one that has always been more reminiscent of pure music than something human to him, and it curls a smile up onto his lips.

Arthur leans over to rustle through the nightstand, pulling out a cigarette to place between his smirk. He lights it and settles back into the pillows, and you’re turning onto your back to mimic his movements, propping up against him even when he grumbles in protest at your added body heat.

He makes no real effort to shake you off, though. Not when your hand subconsciously finds his knee, seeking the connection between you, even when he was right here and never going anywhere again. 

Your fingers, just as callused as his from years of running as outlaws, slowly stroke along the inside of his knee. The touch is borne from familiarity of the most primal, most loving kind; the joining of flesh and meeting of hearts; the simple gem embedded into a slim band, glinting in the low, flickering lamplight when your fingers keep retracing the same lazy circle on his skin.

When you reach the end of your page, Arthur watches your brows furrow, your hand clasping at the bottom of the book fidgeting. It takes a moment before he realizes you were trying to turn to the next page without removing your hand from his knee.

The simple, silent act of not wanting to separate from him tugs at the fondness of you that had found a home in his heart years ago, a silent admiration that had turned into love and devotion somewhere along the way.

He holds back a chuckle before he grabs the top corner of the page, tugging it from your grip on the bottom of the novel and turning it for you. Your head ducks further into the pages, but he sees the smile turning up the corner of your mouth, and a huff of amusement blows smoke out around the cigarette still perched between his own lips.

Slowly, your hand slips from his knee and up his leg, the muscles tensing in his thigh when your fingernails graze alongside it. The traitorous twitch of his cock between his legs in the soft moment isn’t lost on either of you, but you continue to draw those same lazy circles on his thigh.

Each stroke draws you closer inwards, until your nails scrape up along the V of his hips and pull a quiet grunt from his throat.

Arthur only lasts a few more passes of your nails up and down that line before he’s mumbling around the cigarette, “Sweetheart…”

You hum again, taking the cue and dragging your fingers up towards his soft belly, rounder from the years of eating well and not running for your lives. He hadn't been too fond of it for a while, but you had certainly found more…unorthodox ways to change his mind about it.

Dragging your fingers through the thick hair that grew more coarse the further down you went, he sucks in a sharp breath when you reach the base of his cock, tracing it with the tip of your trigger finger as the smoke fills his lungs and sends a rush through his head.

He’d watched that finger press down on the trigger of your trusty shotgun for years, watched you take lives time and time again, for the gang and for him. And now you used it to tend to your ranch and undress him and Jesus he was already so fucking hard it hurt, especially with the way you kept—

“Goddamn teasing me,” Arthur grits through clenched teeth, and your laugh is so airy, so wonderfully carefree, because you had all the time in the world now.

No more camps, no more keeping quiet and finishing fast in tents with the flaps sewn closed. 

This house was yours, something you’d built from the ground up together, and you could take all night taking each other apart. You could make him sing, and you would, after so long of making it clear just how much you adored the sounds of pleasure he once was so baffled that he could even make for you.

Another thing he didn’t believe you could actually enjoy, not until he cupped your cunt through your bloomers on one night of making him moan and whimper until his throat was sore, and found you completely soaked for him.

“You still get hard so fast for me,” you whisper, your hand gently wrapping around his throbbing cock until you have it in a tight fist, giving it a tug that pulls a whine from deep in his chest. 

Sweat from the hot night coats your palm, making each stroke and twist easier, and he’s already melting back into the pillows, free hand grabbing around your waist for purchase as his hips thrust up to smack against your closed hand.

“Only for you,” Arthur whispers, eyes half-lidded as he stares up at the ceiling of your bedroom, in your home, taking another idle drag from the cigarette as you lazily jerk him off.

He can hear the smirk in your voice when you murmur, “Good boy,” and he would’ve been lost right then and there if you didn’t wrap your hand around the base of his cock and squeeze.

Arthur’s whimper is choked, hand spreading across your sternum and slipping up to cup the swell of your breast through the chemise that sticks to your skin in the heat. He feels your legs shift beside him, a soft moan leaving your own lips when your thighs rub together, and he squeezes his eyes shut, breathing hard through his nose as he tries to hold on for you.

“Turn my page,” you whisper your order, and his shaky hand is leaving your body in an instant to follow your command. The loss of his palm on you makes you whimper, and he bites his lip when your hand leisurely slides back up his cock to circle that damned trigger finger around the red, leaking head.

Taking these kinds of orders from you, trusting you enough to guide him, had become a sweet relief after years of having to be such a strong, immovable force for everybody who always needed something from him. And everybody always needed something from him.

Where he was now, his life with you—it was the first real choice Arthur had made for himself in…hell, maybe ever. 

You didn’t need him to be here, you would be just fine on your own, as would he. 

But this was what you wanted. It’s what he wanted. When everything went up in flames, you were both left standing together amongst the ashes. 

And once every loved one who remained was taken care of, this was your first choice. The only choice. One you both made together, steps you took beside each other, even if neither of you were sure just where it’d get you. 

That faith his mentor had always wanted—Arthur had always had it.

It just was meant for you.

His fingers hastily push up your chemise, slipping down to drag between the soaked lips of your pussy. All it takes is the way he easily sinks a digit into your wet heat, your walls welcoming him in and sucking him down to just the first knuckle, before he’s spilling in your palm.

You ease him through it, like you always do, whispering soft praises as you lean down to kiss along the inside of his knee, giving gentle tugs of his cock until all the spend you could get out of him mixes with the sweat on his stomach.

Arthur only takes the time to put out the dangerously burned down cigarette before he tugs you back when you try to get a washcloth to clean him back up, replying to your sweet, loving assurances that you would be fine with his own assurances that he wanted this, he wanted you.

Because you were his best girl, his goddamn wife, and he wanted to see that beginning of want in your eyes dissolve into the dazed, relaxed look of complete ecstasy. You may be fine without being returned what you gave, but he never would be.

And so you end up straddling the mess you had made him leave on his own stomach. He pumps one finger into you until you can take two, two until you can take three, and it’s not long before you’re grinding down along his hand, your own name forgotten. 

His large hand palms at your tits before he grabs one, massaging the soft flesh while his fingers curl inside you, and your eyes roll back into your head. Hips rolling desperately, your slick coats his bottomed out digits, dripping down to his wrist until you are coming with a cry of his name, and Arthur grins.

He never really smiled before you.

You smile too, and it doesn’t fade. Not even when you collapse on top of him, and you’re both a mess of miserably hot, sticky limbs, but at least the last tendrils of pleasure linger, tying you together in sweet bliss that makes you hum happily.

Arthur hums quietly along with you, lips finding your forehead in a gentle kiss. He mumbles against the warm skin there, “What was that you was sayin’ earlier? Somethin’ about your husband bein’ a smelly, sticky ol’ cowboy?”

Your palm smacks against the old scar on his shoulder, something that finally doesn’t hurt anymore, and laughter rumbles from his chest as you lay your head on it.

“Shut up,” you grumble, even as you snuggle into him and kiss the healed over skin gently. He welcomes you in close, despite the mess between you.

Then, not a moment later: “I love you.”

Arthur smiles again as he whispers it back to you, and that smile stays when you both get up to gently wipe each other down, crack open the window to let a gentle breeze into the hot, sex-scented room, then crawl back into your bed.

As he watches your face relax with sleep, and feels the call towards dreams himself, he vaguely remembers a time where part of him had longed for the end.

Now, he just can’t wait to grow old with you.

[k0yaz]

HiIII i saw your wlw post and :3 :3c can I request Arlecchino with a quiet and stoic lover,, well usually stoic, but she opens up more to Arlecchino and the kids! However she gets really shy and embarrassed when expressing positive emotions or gives gifts, which is ironic bc shes also very affectionate towards her. Ik this might sound bland but giving you lots of freedom with this /w\ gl with your beidou fic!! (Love her smmm)

sweetheart.

Pairing(s): arlecchino x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, established marriage, arlecchino is referred to as your husband, soft arle yayayay, reader is slightly insecure, mentions of judgy ass bitches, another proposal woah, mention of arlecchino’s real name, pure fluffy, omg lesbians wowowoow

A/N: MAAM ARE YOU AN ANGEL FOR SENDING ME THIS REQUEST. Also I know this req sounds like head canons but I couldn’t help myself I wanted to write a one shot

Blissful silence enveloped the living room space in such a way that it brought you a sort of comfort, sitting on the couch beside your beloved husband with no sound harbored between you two. You always bore a hint of stoicism in your nature, especially in your mannerisms. Expressing yourself specifically had always been a struggle for you. Many people tended to believe that you just didn’t care, or that you were coldly unfeeling.

Such presumptive pointers often circled your thoughts constantly, which you clearly had a strong distaste for. However, she had never assumed. Nor had she pushed you away for your reserved nature. Arlecchino had never let you go no matter what, that was for sure.

Arlecchino glanced up at you from her cup of tea, which barely brushed against her bottom lip as her x-marked dark eyes practically pierced into you. You simply stared back, unsure of what to say to her, before looking back down at the book in your hands at the scribbled words on the pages.

The soft clank of glass gently grazing against wood was heard once Arlecchino set her teacup down on the table. Your expression didn’t falter or bother to look up as your eyes continued gliding over the pages, completely absorbed.

Your husband never fell short when it came to showing you affection either. She would always deliver you tender kisses, combined with sweet praises whispered in your ear whenever you needed it, making your heart flutter at every little action. Her patience towards you, along with the way she blatantly showed how much cares about you, ignited a sort of small flame within you. You began to attempt to show at least a bit of emotion toward her. Hints of affection.

Simply put, you felt safe around Arlecchino. Safe enough to open up to her. Safe enough to allow those pure, warm feelings to slip through the cracks of your closed off shell in front of her. You weren’t used to expressing such emotions, resulting in yourself getting all bashful and embarrassed whenever you felt that smile curve the corners of your lips.

You almost jumped upon hearing Arlecchino abruptly call your name, now stood up and halfway across the living room. Closing your book, you gently placed it on the table and looked over at her, wondering what she called you for.

“(Name).”

“Yes, Arle?” You hummed, examining how her gaze practically traced every move you made intently. Steam from her freshly filled teacup fogged the atmosphere slightly, before disappearing as she gave a light huff to the cup carefully held by the handle between her fingers. She looked back up at you with a rather fond look in her usually cold and unfeeling eyes, taking a moment to gather her thoughts.

You cleared your throat, wanting to break the palpable tension in the air. “How are the children doing?” You began, still staring at Arlecchino’s focused expression with her teacup still in hand. “Fine. They’re currently out on a mission together, but nothing too serious nor life threatening.” She replied. After what felt like forever, Arlecchino finally set her teacup down and spoke up, seemingly able to articulate her thoughts properly.

“I was thinking that…perhaps the ring I bought you was somewhat unsatisfactory. Especially for something such as important as marriage.” She insisted, clearly wanting to keep her serious expression. Yet the faint softness present in her eyes clearly told you otherwise. Her hand lowered to her hip, to slip inside her pocket and pull out a small ring box. As she extended her palm holding up the ring box slightly toward you, you felt your heart pounding out of your chest and ringing within your own ears upon seeing her crack the box open.

Your eyes scanned over the stone on the burnished silver of the ring—it was nothing you’d seen before. A gleaming ruby with fades of black around the corners, posing a striking resemblance to Arlecchino’s eyes. A soft hue of red tints your face upon seeing the ring. Your eyes widened as you suddenly felt all warm inside and grew quiet, slightly feeling bad that you couldn’t exactly show your appreciation for the gift that made you feel all loved and fuzzy inside.

Arlecchino however, knew you all too well. The silence hanging in the was nothing but your silent appreciation for her. She proceeded to remove the ring from the cushioning of the box and reached out her free hand, prompting you to place your hand in hers. Immediately understanding her subtle gesture, you placed your hand in hers in a fluid motion.

Her nails lightly brushed along your knuckles as she wrapped her fingers around your hand, her grip gentle, yet firm. She slowly reached over to pull off the old ring on your finger and placing it in the box for convenience, before sliding the newly bought ring onto your ring finger toward the end.

It fit perfectly.

A warm, genuine smile made its way across your lips, your cheeks still flushed as well. Despite your initially bashful reaction, you finally locked your eyes with hers. A tender expression present in her eyes. You allowed your eyes to bore into hers for a few moments, staring at your husband with a loving gaze.

You began to take a few hesitant steps toward her, reaching your arms up bit by bit. Not even a few moments later, you practically threw yourself into her arms while wrapping your own around her neck in an embrace filled with adoration. Arlecchino simply exhaled a soft hum as she reciprocated your embrace. Her chin rested on your shoulder contently, her eyelids lowering in a more relaxed state.

Heat crept back up to your face upon feeling her plant a quick kiss on your forehead protectively, the affection just causing your smile to stretch a bit further near your cheeks.

“(Name). My beloved wife. My sweetheart. Just know I only want the best for you, and you only.” Arlecchino murmured in a quiet voice, as if she only wanted the two of you to hear the exchange of such sweet and sentimental words. She loved every part of you. Your stoic nature being nothing short of you caring for her. The way you reserved your affection and love for her, and her only. The way you warm up to the children as well. How you got all flustered and bashful upon experiencing any positive emotions, or when you handed her gifts with a loose grip and head turned away. She loved everything.

“Peruere?”

Arlecchino immediately fixated her attention onto your lips, caressing your cheek with her palm resting along your skin, and thumb grazing your cheek lightly. Her heart fluttered upon hearing you utter her real name. The way the name she buried behind fell from your lips like a sacred word that allowed her to lower her guard around you.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

A/N: I told yall if I like the request I get a lil too into it and cook up something ik I went overboard but idc

[aethon-recs]

Themed Rec List | Tomarrymort Recs by Horcrux ⚡👑🏆🔒💍

I wanted to put together a rec list of Harry/Tom fics with a core focus on horcruxes outside of Diary Tom (the most popular horcrux) and Voldemort himself. Please enjoy these 22 fics that feature one of Tom's horcruxes and their special relationship with Harry.

There’s a ton of interesting variation that can be explored within a Harry and horcrux Tom ship — from where the horcruxes are located and when Harry can conceivably meet them in canon (for example, the Cup horcrux is harder to access than the others); to what age they were made by Voldemort and how that would shape their personalities and interactions with Harry; to the different magical properties that they might embody, depending on the vessel that was chosen.

Finally, it looks like Scarcrux and Locket are the most popular choices (after Diary Tom), and we absolutely need more Cup horcrux fics!

*

⚡ Scarcrux

Amensalism by @cindle-writes (E, 6k, complete)

Scarcrux becomes sentient after the encounter in the Ministry in Harry's 5th year and takes Harry for an adventure.

Bolide by @vdoshu (T, 3k, complete)

On October 31, 1981, a tiny piece of soul attaches himself to Harry Potter in order to survive. This is his story.

Creatures of the Dark we are by @hikarimeroperiddle (M, 28k, complete)

Banished to his cupboard at age 4, Harry learns to listen only to the Voice in his head. Its teachings warp all Harry could have become until no more than dark magic and devotion remains. Visions of a wraith with red eyes complicate matters, especially when Harry and the Voice follow it to Hogwarts so Master can get his hands on the Philosopher’s stone.

Eulogy by @meles-merrivale (E, 6k, complete)

You run through the things you have to do for the day. It is, admittedly, a very short list. Wake up. Be clean. Be ready. An empty life, some might call it. You don’t. It is the life He has given you, and so it is what you deserve.

last rites by @cindle-writes (E, 5k, complete)

Harry has an hour before he walks to his death in the Forbidden Forest. The horcrux in Harry’s scar decides to take matters into its own hands.

Look at me. by @crowcrowcrowthing (M, 1k, complete)

A dark night of the soul.

Pitch Black by @kagariasuha (E, 2k, complete)

The proximity of Horcruxes can influence anyone - especially Harry.

sandpaper kisses, paper cut bliss by @xodahafez (E, 27k, WIP)

Harry Potter survives the Killing Curse, but so does the horcrux within him. And this horcrux has been dangerously infatuated with Harry for seventeen years.

saw you in a dream by @duplicitywrites (E, 2k, complete)

Harry has had this dream before.

*

👑 Diadem

A peculiar way of fitting together by @being-luminous (T, 2k, complete)

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m wearing a diadem?”

Dance Me On and On by @duplicitywrites (E, 19k, complete)

In his first year at Hogwarts, Harry overhears Quirrell interrogating Binns about an artifact from over a thousand years ago. Five years later, Harry uncovers Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem in the Room of Requirement and finds himself pulled into a kingdom in the throes of a mysterious masquerade ball.

In Just a Moment, You’ll Be Mine by @dividawrites (E, 34k, WIP)

Tom has been stuck inside the Ravenclaw's Diadem for decades, alone, with nothing but his slowly fading memories. One day he feels a pull towards someone and gets interested. And then he gets obsessed.

Death is not an Escape by @whitepinkdandelions (T, 2k, complete)

The Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw is full of endless wisdom, so it only makes sense that it gets its hooks into Harry much faster than the rest of them.

*

🏆 Cup

Thirst by @obsidianpen (E, 27k, complete)

Things go awry when the trio beaks into Gringotts. Harry finds himself trapped, locked in the Lestrange vault, wandless and alone... With a horcrux.

*

🔒 Locket

Arson by @rudehellion (M, 8k, complete)

The hunt for Voldemort's Horcruxes is going poorly. In need of some space to think, Harry offers to take the first watch over camp and slips out into the snowy night. Unable to shake his dark thoughts, Harry finds himself drifting and he begins to dream. What he sees changes everything.

knock it off (part 1) / crave gets slaked (part 2) by @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts (E, 6k, complete)

At some point during Harry's time with the Dursleys, pain got crossed with affection. A kick from Dudley or having his arm yanked by Uncle Vernon at least means they’re acknowledging his existence. It’s not love, but it’s something. Too bad for Harry he carries that through to his less dysfunctional relationships.

The Cost by Blood_Stained_Fingers (M, 8k, complete)

The cost of making a horcrux was steep and when Voldemort manages to kill Harry, destroying the horcrux within, Harry finds out the exact price of losing a piece of your soul. It made a cruel joke that if Voldemort loved his horcruxes, Harry should love them too.

The Dead of Night by @cybrid (E, 6k, complete)

An empty house. A glint of gold. A dream. Or: running away from Privet Drive goes terribly for Harry.

The Ties That Bind by @mosiva (E, 8k, complete)

Harry finds the locket at Grimmauld Place, but it has a curse laid on it. When Harry triggers it, he finds himself trapped with the locket version of Tom Riddle, both of them stuck within the enchantment until they can find the way out. Or so Harry thinks.

Whole by Emriel (E, 20k, complete)

The horcrux hunt goes wrong and Harry fails to destroy the locket horcrux. Tom Riddle hands him over to the Dark Lord as a present for they know he holds part of their soul. In their care, Harry learns that feelings, no matter how toxic, are hard to get rid off.

*

💍 Ring

Personal Assistant by @phantomato (E, 10k, complete)

“And that’s it? I call ‘Tom’ and you show up?” “Yes,” Tom answers.

shelter from the storm by @cindle-writes, @duplicitywrites (E, 7k, complete)

After being left behind by the Dursleys, Harry stumbles upon an empty shack in the middle of nowhere, where he finds a mysterious ring underneath the loose floorboards.

*

[chuulyssa]

after dark. (l lawliet)

↷ A/N ─ apologies for slightly drifting off canon ryuzaki here. i mean, who doesn't like a dom detective /j also not proof-read yet ahhh i have school < / 3

also !! im switching to one post a week because of academic stress im sorry :(

★ COUNT ─ 1.6k

!! TAGS ─ l x reader, f!reader, dom!lawliet, smut, teasing, dry-humping, fingering, choking, degradation, praise kink, nicknames (good girl, bad girl, etc.), cockwarming, unprotected sex, p in v, slight (?) exhibitionism

★ PROLOGUE ─ you try to convince your workaholic boyfriend to take a break

SMUT, 18+, MDNI

You frowned at your boyfriend's hunched position on his chair, crouched in a highly uncomfortable posture with his knees bent against the palms of his hands and his head drooped in a trail of thought.

"Did you hear me?" you snapped your fingers in front of his eyes sternly.

He hummed in response, not looking up from the huge computer screen in front of him.

"Hello? Ryuzaki?" you repeated. "It's 2am. Bed. Now."

"Hm, no," he said softly. He lifted a finger to his chin and rubbed it thoughtfully, trying to decipher a new clue.

You felt frustrated at his lack of response, but you knew his work was equally important. Still, you leaned in closer to rest a hand on his shoulder.

"Honey, seriously, it's time for bed now. You've been at this for hours," you insisted.

He sighed, finally tearing his gaze away from the screen to meet your eyes.

"I can't just leave this case unsolved, Y/N," he explained in a small voice. "There is something here. Something really, really important. It seems so close to me yet so far away." Your concerned eyes met his tired ones. He continued, "This is crucial for the case. I cannot afford to slack off, and you know that, darling."

You took a deep breath in. Of course, you knew how significant this case was, not just to him but also to the entire police force. But that didn't mean you would allow him to jeopardize both his physical and mental health.

"You can pick it up tomorrow. Your health is much more important than this, Ryuzaki."

He shook his head vigorously and returned his attention to the computer screen. "I told you. I can't afford to slack off. At all."

Your frown deepened. So this was how he wanted to play. Well then, he'd get exactly what he wanted.

Without a word, you placed the still-filled coffee mug on the table a good distance away from him and tapped his bent knees. He raised his eyebrows and confusedly put his legs down. Immediately, you sat on his lap.

His fingers paused over the keyboard. Perfect. His attention was now fully on you.

"Is something wrong?"

You didn't answer, instead choosing to wrap your arms around his neck and lean in for a soft kiss. Ryuzaki widened his eyes and leaned backwards at the unexpected move.

"What are you doing?"

"Forcing you to take a rest," you said, kissing his lips once more.

He blinked but eventually gave in to the kiss. His hands ran up and down your back, knocking the fork off his desk. His fingers went up to your hair and got tangled in it. He pulled away shortly after to look at you in the eyes.

"Is this going to go where I think it will?" he asked, to which, you gave a little nod. He nodded back at you and shifted you so your back faced him, your ass rubbing against his crotch and instantly hardening it.

He slid a hand inside your pants and under your panties, brushing your clit. You gasped, taken aback by his bluntness.

"Ryu-"

"This is what you get for trying to distract me from my work, love," he whispered into your ear, his other hand holding you close to him so you couldn't escape.

His fingers worked faster on your clit, and you leaned your head back against the crook of his neck, arching your back at the blissful sensation. L slowly slid a finger inside you, and you let out a loud moan. His breath was heavy against your ear and his frequent whispers of "Yes, that's right. Such a good girl," and "So obedient for me. So good," drove you crazy.

Suddenly, he stopped. You whined and tugged at his shirt, gesturing for him to continue assaulting your pussy. He shook his head with a little smirk on his face and ran a finger all the way from your hips to your clit, dragging the fabric of your panties down. You bucked your hips up excitedly, allowing him to completely strip your bottom down.

You sat on his clothed crotch once more, anticipating the magic of his fingers on you again. But he merely caressed your thigh and typed something on his computer with the hand he was holding you with. You pouted and turned halfway to meet his eyes and dug your teeth into his neck, earning a barely heard intake of breath from him.

His fingers automatically slid back inside you while your teeth licked and sucked on the skin of his neck and collarbones. L turned you back around to face his desk and brought a hand out to choke you lightly from the front. You gagged, enjoying the feel of his pretty hands wrapped around your throat.

"You're being a naughty girl, Y/N L/N," L growled into your ear. "Do you really want punishment?"

You stopped. This was one of the rare moments where your boyfriend actually behaved this way - talking about punishment and ordering you to be submissive. Usually, he was one to settle down to lazy, morning sex. Needless to say, you were more than happy to accommodate his current desire. You nodded furiously.

L smiled before putting a hand in front of your face, covering it as if shielding it from something. Out of the blue, he stood up a little, making you skate forward. He gently laid your head on the desk so that your breasts were now practically floating in between the desk and his chair.

You were still seated on his lap, but he lifted his hips, tightening his grip on you so as to prevent you from falling over. L then frantically yet so calmly unbuttoned his pants and slid his boxers down with one hand. He pumped his thick, hard dick a few times before rubbing it against your pussy.

"Apologize," he commanded you.

Your words were incoherent as you tried desperately to say sorry to him for your behaviour. They were interrupted by loud whimpers and moans of need.

"Ryuzaki, please," you panted, your face pressed sideways into his desk. "I need you inside me- ah! Please, don't tease-"

"I said, apologize," he ordered firmly.

You were leaking now. The liquid from your stimulated pussy was dripping all over L's chair, but he did not seem to care. With tears in your eyes, you yelled out, "I- I'm sorry! Please!"

L nodded in satisfaction, patting your ass proudly. "Good girl. Now, a reward for my pretty baby."

He entered your pussy slowly and carefully. It seemed as if he wanted nothing more than to savour every inch of your tight, wet pussy. He knew your body so well - perhaps because of his detective tendencies. Because when his dick entered you, he immediately swung it around to hit your most sensitive spots, making you curl your toes in pleasure.

He pulled back and thrust back inside, repeating the process for what seemed like a thousand times, each thrust earning howls of praise from you. You were a screaming mess, hands running all over his desk, typing senseless words on his keyboard which you were sure would earn you another punishment soon.

"Ryuga, please, faster," you begged, and L obliged, picking up the pace by raising his hips even higher. The faster the movements became, the louder you began to babble.

He tried to keep as quiet as possible throughout the scene, occasionally letting out a few grunts as you told him to go rougher and harder on you. He smacked your ass once, making you shut up and enjoy him as he filled you in completely.

"Oh, god, you little slut," he said between breathless panting. "How horny are you for me, huh? Not even letting me work in peace," he smacked your ass and you cried out, your moans probably waking up the entire hotel.

L was now pounding into you with all his might, your body practically bouncing up and down on the desk uncomfortably. His dick was thrusting in and out of you and his balls were hitting your clit repeatedly at an inhumane speed.

"Now tell me who you are?" he slapped your ass hard.

"I'm- I'm your slut," you whimpered, trying not to pass out with the pleasure you were receiving.

"And what do you want?"

"You-"

He hit your ass even harder, making you yelp in pain.

"Wrong answer. Try again. What do you want?"

"For you to- to fill me up with your cum."

"That's right. Good girl," he growled, his hands latching onto your hips, and his nails digging into your skin to hold you in position. "I will come inside you now."

You nodded shakily. L let out a loud groan for the first time as he came hard into you, filling your pussy with his hot cum. You moaned along with him, jabbering inaudible sobs of his name, coming shortly after him.

For a while, the two of you stayed in the same exact position; your face pressed up against the table with your ass in his lap. His dick was still inside you, unwilling to let go of the warm feel of your pussy. Slowly, he pulled you by your neck back against his chest and pushed his chair forward.

He pressed backspace on his keyboard to delete the words you accidentally wrote, and, with one hand on the side of your hip even now, continued his investigation, leaving a kiss on your neck every few minutes. As the clock struck 4:30am, you slowly drifted off to dreamland, your boyfriend not paying any heed to your concerns. But you had learnt your lesson now, hadn't you?

© chuulyssa, 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.