#by which i mean knock yourself out
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when submissions reopen, can one submit their own fanfic or is that bad form
It is good form, chap! - Mod W
#fic asks#haveyoureadthisfic#pollblr#internet culture#fandom culture#fanfic#by which i mean knock yourself out
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i will always be a little smug about being all over spot before the movie even came out Before the trailers even dropped When he was just a teaser poster and an actor namedrop… spot superfans rise….
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#i was deeply obsessed wjth spiderverse after seeing it in theaters#it straight up never left my mind#i made my first ao3 account in 2018 just so i could leave comments on cute spiderverse fics#the first fic i ever read was a miles x reader then i tried writing my own#what i wrote had such a cute concept i still like it years later#you met him at a houseparty thrown for the end of school and do something embarrassing#lock yourself in the bathroom for a bit and then go sit outside n he follows you and you chitchat#then u gotta go home n it’s dark as fuck out and also winter#so real quick he suits up to make sure you get home ok Ends up saving you from getting mugged#but you got knocked out so he has to look on your phone to get your address n swings you home And by the time he gets you there#it’s a full blizzard so he’s forced to stay and it’s very bizarre when you finally come-to because Spiderman is just sitting in your room#n he snooped and looked through your sketchbook which was filled w drawings of spiderman#duuude it’s just like miles in atsv#anyways i didnt write more after that because i didn’t know where to go with it#barely an x reader i just wanted to be friends with him so badly i thought it meant it had to be romantic#i love it all these years later for being so sincere and Cringe#when i say spiderversr changed my life i mean it#it’s been such an influential part of it
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My roommate and I had a conversation last night and I keep rotating it in my brain and I Don’t Like It
#blue chatter#they called me a resilient person. and no the fuck I am not. I break down so easily over everything and my body is falling apart on me.#I scream in terror when someone knocks on the door too hard the fuck you mean I’m good at handling adversity#I pointed out that I freak out whenever my grade gets low even a little bit#and they were just sitting there like ‘yeah. and then you pick yourself up again and you do the work.’#and no? not always? oftentimes I give up and don’t try hard enough to fix it and let points go that I could have earned#I barely ever go for extra credit opportunities and I’ve never gone to office hours of my own free will#I can’t even think about talking to a professor about a bad grade without wanting to cry? hello?#but they were insistent that even with those things I am still managing Incredibly Well in class given the circumstances. which made me#uncomfortable. like. I don’t think of myself as resilient At All and I feel a bit like I’m lying or tricking them.#I start shaking like a chihuahua when people are upset and I’m In The Vicinity. even when they’re clearly not upset with me.#I really struggle to advocate for myself ever and even when I do I usually feel guilty and walk it back partway so I don’t cause a fight#and I always get way too emotional for the situation when someone has anything they’re upset with me for. which isn’t fair to them bc I need#to be able to take constructive criticism without taking it as a personal attack on me.#like what the fuck do you mean *resilient*. I can’t even handle seeing a bug flying near my face or getting a B in a class. or being told#that I did something wrong. I’m actually significantly worse at handling adversity than I used to be. high school me was a resilientish kid.#and it’s not like I was ever *good* at handling my emotions. even when it was essential for my safety. I’ve always cried way too easily#even when it actively made the situation I was in Much Worse. even when I knew better.#I would get angry and scared and sad and start shaking and crying and even screaming at my parents when they were mad at me even though#I knew that it would always make my life much worse. and extend an already beleaguered argument.#I brought this up with my therapist and she was like ‘well. anybody would have done that if they were treated like you were’.#which. okay. maybe so. I still feel like I should have been able to handle it and just shut up and move on and not make it worse.#but I am aware that this is probably a cognitive distortion. even so. that definitely doesn’t make me resilient.#I just. I feel gross being called resilient. I’m not. I’m weak and easily scared and unable to handle even small amounts of adversity.#the fuck is my roommate even *seeing*.#the annoying part is that they’re generally an insightful person about other people and I know logically that they’re probably right#which is why I’m not going to complain any more about this to their face bc I should just drop it and not make it a Thing#I talk too much about myself and my problems anyway. not every conversation has to be about my brain worms.#but the discomfort is Distinct and Unpleasant. and now I’m just having to sit with it. and Feel Uncomfortable. and try to accept what was#definitely intended as a compliment. I know it’s draining to talk to someone who doesn’t accept any of the kind things you say about them.
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i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.
adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.
right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.
it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.
still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.
i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.
i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.
so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.
coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."
and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.
still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.
i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.
so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went
...oh.
and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.
so i did.
i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.
i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.
it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:
*ptooie.* "that all you got?"
i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!
but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.
my coach did not.
i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.
"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"
and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said
"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."
which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.
and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.
fine.
but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.
and then he left.
and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."
but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.
and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.
he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.
and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.
#whew boy this make me anxious just typing it#wrestling#middle school#the dread#i feel like i have to write some stories about my grandpa not being a dick#because he was actually an amazing grandpa#he just had a few goofs are very comedic moments#and you know if you're gonna have a goof making it comedic is a virtue in itself#he was there for me more than a lot of my classmates dads were#and i dont want that undervalued#yeah#babylon-lore
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in which you’re forced into having a talk with your ex-boyfriend, rafe cameron, on the boat ride to morocco.
being a pogue and rafe cameron’s ex was not easy. although you dated shortly before he killed peterkin, and you were sure he barely even remembered your favourite colour, seeing him blatanly disrespect you and his friends, and go down a path you tried so hard to prevent him from, was hard to watch. but now he’s picked himself up since ward died. you thought you had another chance to at least be on good terms. sending flowers and a card to tanneyhill when ward died, smiling at him when you’d see him around. it didn’t work, he still hated you and your friends.
fortunately, he redeemed himself ever so slightly by volunteering to take the pogues to morocco. rafe had to find chandler groff, you guys wanted the blue crown. it was perfect.
until jj punched him, that is. he knocked him out cold. with a scolding “jj!” coming from majority of the pogues, including you, jj carries him down into the downstairs washroom and ties his wrists to a pole. they don’t trust him, which is fair. you don’t either — you shouldn’t, anyway.
rafe was down there quietly for a mere half hour until he woke up with a groan from his head hitting the ground earlier, followed up with yelling once he realizes he was stuck down there.
all touching your noses and saying ‘not it’ the minute pope suggests someone going down there to check on him, you’re the unlucky one who said it last. shutting up your protests, john b gently coaxes you downstairs, saying things like, “you used to mack on him”, “this is good, you know him”, “he won’t hurt you,” john b leaves you downstairs once you make it to the door of the bathroom. knocking gently, you timidly ask, “can i come in?”
there’s no answer. you can picture him. wrists tied, brows furrowed, eyes closed tightly as his head leans against the wall and towards the ceiling. his gorgeous stressed face. you slowly open the door, peeking your head in. “hi,” you say gently, timid around the scary and aggressive man you have the curse of calling your ex.
“…hey,” rafe says, voice rough as he shuts his eyes tight.
unsure what to say, you awkwardly stand there and stare down at him. “um, i brought asprin,”
“right, right, like i can fuckin’ swallow it. what, you gonna throw it in my mouth like a.. seal or something?” sassy, his upper lip lifts a bit as he thinks about it and isn’t very fond of the idea.
a second of silence as you figure out what to say. “…um, ill just set it down here,” you say, putting the container down beside him. “sorry about your head.”
“yeah, uh, your little boyfriend can’t control his fists, huh?”
“…not my boyfriend,” you correct softly, though you’re not sure why you feel the need to tell him that. “but no one really.. trusts you, rafe, so you kind of brought this on yourself—“
he quickly interrupts you. “bullshit. you know why that’s bullshit? because i was helping. who got you this boat, huh? me. i did. rafe. i’m the reason that you guys aren’t swimming, or some shit, to north africa. i’m being helpful and understanding, and this is what i get. you think that’s fair?” when you’re stood there in silence at his sudden raised voice, he repeats, “you think that’s fucking fair, y/n!?” he kicks a can in anger.
it’s like you’re his girlfriend again as you sit down next to him instantly instead of running. you get deja vu to the time three years ago when he was high on coke and got kicked out of the house. everyone ignored him except for you. “..um, okay, i’m gonna give you some asprin,” you say softly. “help your head. open,” you tell him, grabbing a pill as he gives you a look but opens his mouth. you pop it in his mouth and he dry swallows. “there.”
you two share a look. you don’t think it’s a bad look by any means. he looks frustrated still, but there’s an underlying gentleness in his eyes, as if he registers you’re still the same girl you were when you two were together. “…and, um, for the record, i don’t think it’s fair that you’re down here. you helped us, thats.. nice.”
the word ‘us’ when referring to you and the pogues makes him feel weird. “i don’t get why you hang out with them,” he mutters as he looks at the ground. “tried so fucking hard to keep you away from them when we were.. together.”
“i know,” you whisper, your gaze dropping as well, to his tied wrists. you feel awful. “trust me, your warnings still play in my head when i’m with them sometimes,”
“you remind me of sarah.” he says. you’re not sure what that means.
“you hate sarah,”
“nah, nah— i don’t hate her. hate who she’s turned into,” he adjusts himself. “she makes me sad. i’m sad for her, alright? she had so much potential.“ he shrugs. “but there’s no saving her. she’s in too deep,” he looks back up at you again. “i think there’s saving you, though,”
“…this is weird, rafe,”
“how?” he asks.
“because in the years we’ve been broken up, you’ve never talked to me about this. feels like it’s a… trick or something,”
“it’s not a trick,” he assures, voice still rough. “look, i’m out half a mill, i’m tied up in a bathroom, i’m probably gonna.. die or something. i got nothing to lose, may as well tell you my concern,”
“um, i appreciate it,” you say gently, unsure how to respond. “and i’m gonna go back upstairs.”
“hey— no, woah, woah, woah,” he stops you quickly. “stay. okay?”
“i should go up and help with dinner, though—“
“no, stay. i— i want you to stay, okay? i don’t wanna be down here alone, and i want you away from the pogues,”
he doesn’t wanna be alone. you feel bad for him all over again, nodding gently as you sit back down beside him. you always were so good for rafe.
you’re not sure how long you’ll be down here with him. maybe until it’s late at night and he’s asleep. so gently, after about five minutes of silence, to ease some of the tension and pass the time, you murmur a, “truth or dare?”
rafe just smiles.
#౨ৎ isa writes#NOT PROOFREAD#this is bad sowwy#obx#outer banks#obx x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron obx#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron x reader#rafe obx#rafe cameron prompt#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe smut#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#rafe fic#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron one shot#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron x you#exbf!rafe#⋆˚࿔ rafe 𝜗𝜚˚⋆
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(Poly 141 x neighbour!reader: the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach! (Or in your case, the way to four men’s heart is through their stomach))
It started with cookies.
You’d been in the middle of baking a double batch- oatmeal chocolate chip, your personal favorite- and realized halfway through scooping them onto the tray that you’d made far too many for one person. It wasn’t unusual. Baking was how you coped with stress, and ever since you’d moved into this apartment building, stress had been in no short supply.
The guy in 4A had blared music all night. Your hot water barely lasted five minutes. And your smoke detector had developed a habit of chirping at odd hours.
But there was one bright spot- your neighbors in 4C.
You’d seen them coming and going. Tall, broad, and always carrying duffel bags that looked far too heavy to be legal. They kept odd hours, too, but never caused trouble. One of them- Johnny, you’d learned later- had even held the door open for you when your arms were full of groceries.
Which was why you’d stood outside their door that evening, balancing a plate of cookies and feeling like an idiot as you knocked.
Not-Johnny had answered first, blinking down at you in surprise, though his smile was warm and he was beautiful. You couldn’t blame him; you had barely spoken to them more than a few short words.
“Uh… hi?”
“Hi.” You forced a smile. “I’m your neighbor from 4B. I, uh… made too many cookies?”
His eyes dropped to the plate immediately, and you swore you saw something primal flicker behind them. Still, you worried.
“I mean, if you don’t want-”
“No! No, we want. Come in- Johnny! Get over here!”
And that was how it started.
The second time had been lasagna.
You’d just finished assembling it when you realized- again- that you’d made too much. So, after psyching yourself up for ten minutes, you’d knocked on their door for the second time in as many weeks.
Price, who had introduced himself along wuth Simon the day you dropped off the cookies, had answered that time, his expression guarded until he saw the foil-covered pan in your hands.
“You’re joking,” he’d said, but when you started to retreat, he’d stopped you with a firm, but gentle hand on your back. He had such a nice, big hand. “Don’t be ridiculous, lovie. Get in here.”
That night, you’d sat at their table, sharing stories and laughter while they cleaned the dish down to the last crumb.
After that, it became routine.
You started “testing recipes,” and they became your eager guinea pigs.
And they never seemed to mind.
And now…
The smell hit first- roasted garlic, browned butter, and something rich simmering low and slow. It snuck out from the slightly cracked kitchen window and spilled into the shared hallway of the apartment building. For men used to MREs and takeout, it was practically siren song.
Gaz was the first to notice, lingering just outside the door labeled 4B- your door- with an almost predatory focus. He wasn’t proud of it, but his stomach growled so loud that Soap- rounding the corner with a gym bag slung over his shoulder- laughed outright.
“You stalking the neighbor again?”
“Shut up. You smell that?”
Soap inhaled deeply. His eyes fluttered shut for a beat before snapping open.
“Jesus wept- what is that?!”
“I don’t know, but I’m this close to knocking.” Kyle held up his fingers, barely an inch apart.
“She already fed us last week, mate. Dinna push it.”
“But what if she’s testing another recipe?”
Gaz wasn’t wrong. You had a habit of showing up at their door with dishes too good to refuse.
They hadn’t stood a chance.
After the cookies and the lasagna, it wasn’t long before other dishes followed: casseroles, soups, pies, and even homemade bread. And the worst part? You bow always prefaced it by saying you needed an opinion- like they were doing you the favor.
It wasn’t until Price called you a “bloody saint” over a pan of enchiladas that Ghost finally put it together.
“You’re using us as taste testers,” he’d said flatly.
You’d grinned- too cute and too smug for your own good. “Is that a problem?”
Not a single one of them had said no, just as stated before.
Which led them here, hovering outside your door and pretending they weren’t waiting for another offering.
“… Fine.” Soap muttered, raising his hand to knock.
But the door swung open before he could, and there you were- apron on, hair pulled back, and flour dusted across your cheek.
“Hi!” You chirped, eyes bright. “Perfect timing!”
Gaz’s grin was pure relief. “Tell me you need opinions. Please, love.”
You laughed, stepping aside to let them in. “I always need opinions. Come in!”
Inside, the kitchen was chaos. Cutting boards and mixing bowls were scattered across the counters. A Dutch oven bubbled on the stove, releasing clouds of savory steam. Plates of food- half-assembled sandwiches, stuffed peppers, and what looked like chocolate tarts- sat waiting.
“I… might’ve gone overboard.” You admitted, and if you hadn’t spent all day in the kitchen, your cheeks would’ve gone warmer.
Soap whistled low, eyes raking over every dish. “Not complainin’.”
Price arrived just then, texted by Kyle, trailed closely by Simon, who took one look at the spread and froze. His eyes swept from the roasted chicken resting under a blanket of fresh herbs to the still-warm biscuits stacked beside a bowl of honey butter.
“What’s the occasion?” John asked, smile amused, but you just waved him off.
“Practicing.”
Gaz was already halfway to the table, trying to decide what to start with, but Simon lingered, watching you carefully. He had his balaclava on, though you haven’t yet dared to ask why he wears it.
“Practicing for what, exactly?”
You hesitated, fiddling with the edge of your apron. “There’s this… thing next week. A community bake-off. And I thought it might be fun to enter.”
Soap arched a brow. “You’re entering this in a bake-off?”
“Well, not all of it. I’m still deciding which dishes to use.”
“You’re winning.” Kyle said immediately, filling his plate.
“Definitely.” Johnny added, already reaching for a sandwich.
Simon, still lingering, crossed his arms and stared down at you. His height will never, ever not make your breath hitch. “You’re testing all of this on us?”
You looked up at him through your lashes, pouting just a little. “You don’t mind, do you, Simon?”
His gaze darkened- not in anger, but something softer, heavier. It made your stomach flip.
“No,” he said simply. “We don’t mind.”
You swallowed and turned quickly to the oven to hide the heat rushing to your cheeks.
The next hour passed in a blur of taste testing, arguments over which dish was best, and repeated assurances that you were going to “blow the competition out of the water.” But beneath the laughter and teasing, you failed to catch the way they looked at you- how Price lingered by the stove just to steal extra bites, or how Johnny kept offering to help, hovering close enough that you brushed elbows more than once.
And Simon? He was the worst of all. He didn’t say much, but his eyes tracked your every move, following the way your hands worked the dough or wiped flour off the counter. He was the last to leave, hanging back as the others helped clear plates.
“You’re serious about this bake-off?” he asked quietly.
You nodded. “Thought it might be fun.”
“You don’t need it.”
“… What?”
He gestured at the now-empty plates. “To prove anything, I mean. You’re already…” He trailed off for a few seconds, and though you were left blinking at him, you didn’t rush him. “Good enough.” he murmured at last.
The compliment hit harder than you expected, and for once, you didn’t have a clever response.
“Thank you, Simon. That… means a lot to me.” you said softly.
And just like that, the others reappeared, breaking the moment. Johnny patted Simon’s shoulder with a knowing smirk, and Kyle slung an arm around your shoulders, while Price merely watched. Your kitchen was now spotless, cleaned by them.
“When’s the next test run?” Gaz asked.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Well, let us know. We’re free anytime.”
“Yeah,” Soap added. “Anytime.”
You laughed but this time, you didn’t miss the way Price was looking at you- thoughtful, like he’d already made up his mind about something.
The door clicked shut behind them after that, leaving your apartment quieter but no less warm. The scent of roasted garlic and herbs still lingered, and you found yourself smiling as you surveyed the spotless kitchen. They’d made quick work of the mess, trading jokes and lighthearted jabs as they wiped down counters and stacked dishes in quite the uniform style.
You didn’t know what you’d done to deserve neighbors like them, but you weren’t about to question it.
You caught yourself humming as you tucked away the last plate, the sound of their laughter still echoing faintly in your ears. It was easy with them- comfortable in a way that felt rare and almost too good to be true.
And maybe it was.
Because what you didn’t know- what you would probably never know, such a sweet and trusting thing- was that your apartment had been wired within days of your first visit to their door.
To them, it had started with a conversation.
“She’s alone,” Price had said after the second time you’d brought them food, leaning back in his chair with a contemplative frown. “No sign of anyone else coming or going.”
“Security’s shite.” Gaz had added, gesturing vaguely toward the shared hallway where your lock barely functioned half the time.
Soap had shrugged, easygoing as ever, but his eyes had been sharp. “Better us keep an eye on her than let some arsehole get the chance.”
And that was that.
Price had ordered the equipment, Ghost had handled the installation, and none of them had lost sleep over it. Not when it meant keeping you safe.
It wasn’t just the cameras, either.
Simon had reinforced your locks under the guise of “fixing” them after you mentioned a struggle with your key. Johnny had talked you into letting him check your windows “just to be sure they latched properly.” Gaz had set up an app on your phone to “monitor deliveries,” though it also let them track your location if needed.
And Price? He always lingered at the door just long enough to ask if you needed anything else- subtle, but enough to make sure you knew they were there.
You never questioned it. Never noticed the way they moved like a unit around you, anticipating problems before they could arise. Never caught the glances they exchanged when you mentioned a repairman or the way Simon hovered near the window any time a car idled too long outside.
You just kept feeding them, trusting them in ways that only made their resolve deepen.
Price was the worst.
He’d leaned against the counter tonight, watching you laugh at Johnny’s jokes and swat at Kyle when he tried to sneak extra bites, and the thought had hit him harder than he expected, while Simon watched on in amusement and was the only to successfully swipe a few more bites.
They could’ve had this already.
If life had gone differently- if timing had been better- you could’ve been his. Theirs. Someone to come home to instead of just someone they visited between deployments.
He hadn’t said anything, of course. None of them had.
But as they left, he’d lingered in the doorway, letting his hand rest lightly against the frame.
“Don’t let ‘em eat it all before the bake-off,” he’d teased, lips curling into a smile. “They’ll start begging if you do.”
You’d laughed, and God, it was dangerous how much he liked the sound.
“I’ll make sure to keep them in line.”
His smile softened. “Good girl.”
You didn’t notice the way Simon shot him a sharp look at that- or the way Johnny and Kyle exchanged knowing grins.
And later, when Price sat down in front of the monitors to check the feeds, he didn’t let himself feel guilty.
Because you were safe.
And as far as they were concerned, that was all that mattered.
#noona.writes#cod x reader#cod x you#cod#tf 141 x reader#tf 141 x you#tf 141#cod imagines#john price x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley imagines#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you#poly 141 x you#poly!141 x reader#poly 141 x reader#poly!141#poly 141#johnny soap mctavish x you#johnny soap mctavish x reader#soap x you#soap x reader#kyle gaz garrick x you#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x you#gaz x reader#yandere cod#cod yandere
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David Tennant interview at the British LGBT Awards, June 2024 (x)
Int: You being an ally to the community isn't something new. You've been doing it, but recently you've obviously really stepped up for trans and non-binary people in a time that's so, so needed. What made you do that?
David: I don't know that I feel like I've done anything that I wouldn't just sort of be normally doing. I mean, it's for me it's just common sense that there's there should be any suggestion that people aren't allowed to live the life they want to live and and to be who they want to be with and to express themselves wholeheartedly. I mean, as long as you aren't hurting anybody else, everybody else just needs to fucking butt out. I don't really understand why...
Int: ...it's controversial.
David: Yeah, there is and the thing... the thing, if there's something that's particularly sobering and depressing, it's that certain debates are being weaponized by certain elements of the political class, often for no... it seems it's not ideological so much as opportunistic. And I just think that's pretty disgusting, really.
Int: I couldn't agree more. What message would you like to send out to trans youth?
David: Please don't feel like you're not loved and that you're not accepted and that you're not... you know, most people in the world are good and kind and just want you to be able to be who you are. Most people in the world don't really care. I mean... you know what I mean?
Int: We're all narcissistic.
David: Exactly. Everyone's so self obsessed that really, the sort of noise that comes from a certain area of the press and of the political class is... it's a minority. It really is. And please don't let that make you feel diminished or dissuaded or discouraged, because, you know, you just... you have to be allowed to be yourself, and you are, and you are yourself and you must thrive and flourish, and we're all here for it.
Int: Amazing. I think, yeah, it's so important .I think sometimes it feels like there's so many people, but it is a minority. It's such a minority.
David: It's a tiny bunch of little whinging fuckers that are on the wrong side of history and they'll all go away soon.
Int: Like what happened with gay people 20 years ago.
David: When I was a kid, when I was a kid, exactly. You know, I was at school when Clause 28 came in and it all felt like being gay was something to be terrified of. And gay men in particular were demonised as paedophiles and now that just feels historic and ludicrous and, I mean, I don't see all those... all those battles aren't won, but we're in a very, very different place. And I feel like.I feel like history is on a progressive trajectory and it might get knocked sideways now and again by people for all sorts of reasons, which are often quite selfish and quite, as I say, not coming from a place of any sort of genuine belief system, but other than a place of opportunism. And that's something that we... I hope that in 20 years time, we're talking about, you know, these culture wars as something of the past.
Int: I believe we will. I'm a huge Doctor Who fan, so.
David: Oh, good, me too!
Int: You are my Doctor.
David: Oh, thank you very much.
Int: But recently, obviously, you came back for the 60th anniversary and you got to work with Yasmin Finney.
David: Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Int: What was it like working with her?
David: Oh, she's brilliant. She's fantastic. Yeah. And she's in the show again now, she's back in it, so that's fantastic to see. She's lovely, talented, cool as a cucumber, articulate, brilliant. I learned a lot from her as an actor and also as someone who, you know, who's become a sort of de facto activist just because of who she is and where she is, and she becomes a sort of symbol of hope, and she's wonderful.
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back in action
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synopsis: being the wife of bakugou katsuki comes with multiple benefits, one of which is a front-row seat to his scrumptious back.
pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader
⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: i know at least 2/3 of you have seen that figurine
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you swear there’s no better sight in this world than katsuki bakugou’s back.
not the view from your honeymoon suite in santorini, not the sparkling ocean from your vacation in okinawa—hell, not even the perfect strawberry shortcake you baked last weekend.
no, none of that compares to the sheer beauty that is your husband’s ridiculously broad, wonderfully sculpted, unfairly muscular back.
the way his muscles shift under his skin when he moves? art.
the ripple of strength as he stretches? divine.
the faint sheen of sweat glistening on his shoulders after an intense workout? a masterpiece.
and, as if the gods of attractiveness hadn’t blessed him enough, the scars that mark his skin only add to his allure.
each one tells a story of battles fought and won, of heroism that the world praises but he humbly shrugs off. to you, those scars aren’t just symbols of strength—they’re proof of his resilience, his dedication, his heart.
so, yes. you are absolutely obsessed with your husband’s back, and no, you don’t care how shameless that makes you.
“katsuki,” you call from the couch, chin propped up on your hands as you shamelessly watch him rummage through the fridge.
he’s in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants, the waistband hanging dangerously low on his hips, and his shirt? nowhere to be found.
a completely intentional choice on his part, because he knows exactly how weak you are for him like this. “did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got the best back in the entire universe?”
he pauses, a carton of orange juice in one hand and an eyebrow raised in your direction. “you tell me that every damn day.”
“well, I mean it every damn day.”
he rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother hiding the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “you’re such a weirdo.”
“damn right,” you shoot back, grinning when he snorts. “come here. let me look at it properly.”
“what, my back?” his expression is one part exasperation, two parts amusement as he shuts the fridge and leans against the counter, arms crossed. “the hell do you need to ‘look’ at it for?”
“because it’s a work of art, obviously,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “and I haven’t had my daily dose of admiring you yet.”
he groans, dragging a hand down his face like you’re the most exhausting person on the planet, but he still walks over to you without another word. you can tell he’s secretly enjoying this, though.
“alright, idiot. knock yourself out.” he turns around, presenting you with the full, glorious view of his back.
your eyes immediately light up. “oh my god, it’s perfect.”
“it’s a back,” he deadpans.
“no, no, no. it’s the back,” you insist, reaching out to lightly trace your fingers along the curve of his shoulder blades.
he tenses slightly under your touch—his body always reacts before his mind can catch up—but quickly relaxes as you continue your impromptu “admiration session.”
“you’ve got no idea how unfair this is,” you mumble, running your hands down the defined lines of his lats. “how am I supposed to focus on anything when you look like this?”
“you’re ridiculous.” he’s shaking his head, but you can hear the way his voice softens, the way the edges of his usual gruffness smooth out when he talks to you like this.
it’s a few days later, and you're lounging on the couch, flicking through your phone when you hear him coming from the hallway, the sound of his footsteps heavy and deliberate.
katuski’s been in the gym for a couple of hours, and you can already hear the deep exhale he lets out as he moves closer, his breath still heavy from the workout.
"guess who's back," you say, looking up just in time to see him walking into the living room, wearing only a towel around his waist, his body glistening with sweat from his workout.
he pauses for a moment when he sees your face—wide-eyed and full of admiration, already zeroing in on that perfect, chiseled back. his muscles tense as he moves, and you feel your heart skip a beat.
"really?" he says, voice dripping with disbelief. "you still on about this?"
“can’t help it,” you say, setting your phone aside and leaning back against the cushions, fully prepared to watch him, unashamed. "I’m just amazed that someone like you exists in the world."
katuski rolls his eyes, but there's a soft chuckle that escapes him, betraying his indifference. "yeah, well, quit starin'."
"I can’t help it," you reply, your voice a playful purr as you look him up and down. "I mean, who else looks this good after a workout?"
he tilts his head to the side, his signature scowl starting to form, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“quit actin’ like I’m some kinda showpiece, alright?” he grumbles, though you can hear the lighthearted edge to his voice.
you laugh, clearly enjoying yourself too much. "sorry, can’t help it.”
later that week, you and katuski are out on patrol, both suited up in your respective hero uniforms.
it's business as usual—rescuing civilians, stopping some petty criminals, and making sure the city is safe.
the sun’s setting, painting the skyline in beautiful oranges and purples, but you're still laser-focused on one thing: his back.
it's a total accident—really, it is—but when you're standing next to him after you’ve just subdued a villain, you can't help but sneak a glance at the broad expanse of his back.
you feel that familiar pull to reach out, to trace the powerful lines of his shoulder blades again.
“don’t even think about it,” he warns, his voice low and gruff as he catches the glint of mischief in your eyes.
you smile innocently, taking a step closer. "what? I was just going to—"
"not here. we’re in the damn public," katuski growls, his sharp gaze snapping to yours as his fingers tighten around his gauntlet. "you really think I’m gonna let you paw at me in front of everyone?"
you laugh, unbothered by his obvious annoyance. "I’m not pawing at you, I’m admiring you. there's a difference, katsuki."
his jaw tightens as he glares at you, his usual frown deepening. "that’s the same damn thing."
you can’t help but grin, even though he’s clearly not having it.
but, deep down, you know that katuski secretly loves it. sure, he’s tough and grumpy in front of the public, but you both know how soft he gets when you're alone, how he indulges you without hesitation.
so, you take one last daring step forward, placing a hand on his shoulder, letting your fingers brush along the fabric of his uniform.
he’s about to bark at you to stop, but you just flash him a quick, mischievous grin, and that’s all it takes for him to roll his eyes, muttering under his breath, "unbelievable."
and katsuki was right in his reprimand cause you were breaking the headlines the very next day.
for all the wrong reasons.
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kofi — navigation — masterlist
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do not copy, translate, or plagarize
#mha x y/n#bnha x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugo x y/n#bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou x y/n#mha x reader#bakugou x you#bakugou katsuki x you#bakugou x fem!reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugou x you#bakugo katsuki x reader#katsuki x you#katsuki x y/n#katsuki x reader#bnha x you#bnha x y/n#bnha x fem!reader
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veritaserum - mattheo riddle
summary: when mattheo drinks veritaserum on a bet, he's confident he doesn't have anything to hide... until you show up.
word count: 3.1k
a/n: gosh i love this messy boy. just a little something sweet + fun!
"I don't know... shouldn't we save it for something... important?"
"Like, what Blaise?" Malfoy responded, exasperated.
"Yeah, got any plans you want to share?" Theo asked.
"All ears, bud" Mattheo joined in.
Blaise threw his hands up. "Fine, fuck it, do what you want with it" he said, resigned, referring to the small vial in Malfoy's hand that had the group's rapt attention as they huddled in the corner of their dormitory like they were first years at a sleepover.
"We should put it in somebody's goblet at dinner."
"We should slip it into Dumbledore's cup, Merlin knows what the geezer would say."
Theo got a wicked look on his face, "I'll give any of you lot 100 galleons to drink it."
Eyes widened around their circle at that.
"You're joking."
"Piss off."
"No, listen to me, we think we know everything about each other, don't we?" Theo continued, letting the sentiment linger "Which means the things we don't know are deep."
He grabbed the vial from Malfoy and dangled it in front of them; Veritaserum, the most powerful truth serum in the wizarding world, even having it in their possession was breaking about 15 Ministry laws.
Members of the group stared shiftily at one another, but Theo found Mattheo's gaze staring boldly at him as he leaned casually against his four-poster, a smirk on his face.
"Make it 200 and you've got yourself a deal" Mattheo grinned.
Snickers of laughter took the group as they punched one another in amusement and excitement.
"Bottoms up" Theo said, tossing the vial at him.
"I've got nothing to hide" Mattheo replied with an air of emblazoned confidence as he deftly popped the cork and threw the liquid back like a shot of firewhiskey before anyone could stop him.
It didn't taste like anything other than water, and for a moment Mattheo thought this was the easiest 200 galleons he'd ever make, but then he felt a sort of bubbling in his chest, like every feeling, every sentence he'd ever held back wanted to burst forth.
"...Well?" asked Malfoy, cautiously, leaning in, "How do you feel?"
"Bloody weird" Mattheo said, looking down at the empty vial in his hand. "And apprehensive, like I definitely don't want you to ask me things." His eyes widened at the words that had come so truthfully and vulnerably out of his mouth before he could stop them, suddenly realizing that he'd made a horrible mistake.
Theo was howling with laughter, leaning in and rubbing his hands together as he got ready to obliterate his best friend for being so cocky; he was going to make every galleon worth it.
"Did you take Blaise's Chudley Cannons scarf last term?" he asked.
"Yup, sold it to a fifth year for a bag of weed— SHIT" Mattheo said quickly, eyes wide before slapping a hand over his mouth.
"Mate, what the fuck?—" Blaise started, but Theo was on a tear.
"—Did you cheat off of Lorenzo's potions exam this week?"
"Of course" Mattheo admitted, the words blasting by his hand, "I've been doing it since fourth year, his handwritings the size of my fist, thanks for that by the way" he said, looking at Enzo.
"Prego, amico" Lorenzo said smiling and shrugging, "happy to help."
"Alright then" Blaise said, the anger and frustration clear in his voice as he eyed Mattheo, "better own up, didn't you slip McLaggen a galleon to let Theo score on him last match?"
"Yeah, fuck, and I'm not sorry about it. I'm tired of hearing Theo piss and complain about losing when he barely shows up to practice and lets the rest of us down."
"OOHHH!" shouted several of the guys.
"Fucking harsh mate!!"
"What the fuck?!?" Theo shouted angrily as he lunged for Mattheo and the others tried to hold him back.
Amidst the shouting and commotion, they didn't hear you knock on the door.
"Guys?" you asked, raising your voice to be heard.
Five heads turned your way as they stopped mid-brawl and began to stand up and right themselves, adjusting their ties and smoothing their robes. For his part, Mattheo's heart nearly shot out of his chest. No, no no no not right now he thought as you pushed your way into their room. On any other occasion he'd be thrilled to see you, but now the bubbling in his chest was reaching its peak at the sight of his deepest, most tightly held secret: you, and every single thing he felt about you.
He took in your amused smile, the light laughter on your lips, the way it made your eyes sparkle and he felt his palms tingle with sweat as he grasped them into fists and swallowed deeply, like he could ingest his own thoughts. You were his best friend, had been since the moment he met you on his first train ride to Hogwarts and he had no illusions about ruining your friendship by trying for anything else; girls like you didn't end up with guys like him.
"Are you alright?" you asked, looking at him strangely before his friends chimed in for him.
"S'fine!"
"Yeah, yeah!"
"Never better!"
"What do you need, love?"
"I am NOT fine!" Mattheo said boldly and rather loudly before he could stop himself and your eyes shot to him with concern.
"Wait, what's wrong Matty?" you asked, using the nickname he only tolerated coming from you.
He pursed his lips tightly and shook his head, averting his eyes to the floor, physically warring with the words that were flooding his subconscious.
What's wrong? A lot of things are wrong, YN. For starters, I love you. I love you so much it physically pains me to spend as much time as we do together and not to grab your hand, to pull you onto my lap, to nuzzle into your neck, to kiss you; I have a list of things I want to do to you every time I see you. Especially in that godsdamn skirt you're wearing. It's my favorite. You should know that. And I wish you would stop wearing it, you have no idea the ways guys look at you. I wish you'd wear it only for me. I wish you'd want me the way I want you, because I want you so badly. I wish you were mine, but I'm scared, no, fucking terrified of the way I feel about you because love is vulnerability and vulnerability is weakness and I can't tell you any of this so please, please don't ask me anything and please, please stop looking at me like that.
"Matty?" you asked again, now thoroughly concerned as your best friend slammed his hands over his ears as you walked towards him.
Theo was burning hot with anger, stewing over what Mattheo had said about him, he wanted to take him down a notch, to embarrass him in return. "Admit it" he interrupted, staring at Mattheo "you have a thing for Pansy and you've tried to make a move on her even though she's with Draco."
You stopped short of approaching Mattheo and stared at Theo.
"What?" you whispered, feeling physically ill, jealous and hurt even though you had no such right.
Mattheo straightened up and glared at Theo.
"What the fuck did you just say?!" Draco said, brushing past you as he came for Mattheo.
"I'm right, aren't I?" Theo pushed further, so smug, so certain he was right.
"No you fucking prat" Mattheo spat at him.
Draco grabbed Mattheo by the front of his robes. "You swear it, you haven't made a move on her?"
"I swear it."
"Not even before we were dating?" Malfoy pressed.
"Not even before you were dating" Mattheo confirmed.
"What the fuck is going on?" you said, exasperated, almost to yourself as you tried to calm down.
"Veritaserum" Blaise said by way of explanation as he leaned in to be heard over the continued shouting of your friends. "Theo bet one of us to drink it and, well..." he said, gesturing his hand by way of explanation at the calamity in front of you.
Malfoy was shouting questions at Mattheo who looked genuinely surprised if not annoyed, and Enzo was looking back and forth at them like it was a tennis match. Theo had a deeply skeptical look on his face as he listened on, "No, you're always weird around Pansy and YN though, I thought..." then, like a lightbulb went off, Theo looked at you, to Mattheo and back again.
"Do you think Pansy's hot?" Malfoy continued.
"Bro, give it up" Blaise said finally, stepping to pull him back, "I think you're in the clear."
"I mean yeah she's hot, but she's not my type. FUCK!" Mattheo replied, rubbing a hand over his face at the admission.
"She's not, but YN is" Theo said finally.
Mattheo bit his bottom lip and stared at the floor, concentrating very hard on the tassels of the rug beneath his feet as he shook his head, a grimace on his face.
Your heart trilled in your chest, which was literally rising and falling in both panic and excitement. Mattheo was shaking his head no, but his whole body was fighting something, there was something he didn't want to say... about you.
"So, she's not your type? Not attractive to you at all?" Theo pushed.
Mattheo's face was turning a dark shade of red as pursed his lips closed and shook his head vehemently, refusing to meet anyone's eyes, his own nearly watering with the exertion of fighting the potion within him.
"Totally platonic? Didn't give a shit when Seamus Finnegan asked her out last term?"
Mattheo glanced at Theo, gathering himself, as he tried desperately to say the only truth he wanted to share. "He's a prick, no secret I didn't think it was a good idea—"
"—You never told me that" you said quietly, confused, and not a little bit angry. "But you avoided me for a few weeks after, I remember..." you said, trailing off as you stepped closer to him, and Mattheo's looked genuinely afraid, outstretching his hands to stop you from coming any closer.
"What don't you want to say?—"
"—I don't want you here right now!" he said loudly.
You physically reared back at the harshness of his words. You caught his eye, trying to communicate the way you often did with one another, to ask things that could only be said without words, but you got nothing in response.
"R-Right" you said, your voice wobbling as you turned to leave, thoroughly embarassed.
And the sound of it nearly broke Mattheo's heart.
"Wait, wait, I didn't meant it like that, I don't want you to be upset, please don't be upset" he said, moving to reach for your hand urgently, the unmasked care and compassion in his voice making you turn and making Draco and Blaise bat at each other's arms in excitement like school girls at the scene unfolding in front of them.
"I don't want you to hear my truth" Mattheo said quietly, and just like that it was just the two of you, you who knew more than any of these idiots, you knew about Blaise's scarf (you had told him not to sell it), about him cheating in potions and paying off McLaggen, but even you didn't know his most deeply held secret and this isn't how he wanted it to come out.
"Please" he begged, in way none of his friends had ever heard him speak before.
"I just... I thought I knew all of your truths?" you said vulnerably, your chin wobbling, saddened at the idea that there was a part of him you didn't know.
"You don't. I'm sorry" he said simply.
"But they get to hear them?" you said, gesturing towards your friends.
"No, they don't know them either."
"What would be so bad that you wouldn't want anyone in your life to know, Matty?"
He bit his tongue as he tilted his head. "It isn't bad. I didn't say it was bad" he said.
You could tell he was playing with you, selectively choosing his words. Your curiosity piqued as you turned to face him fully with your arms crossed.
"What don't you want us to know?" you asked.
"How I — FUCK — feel — mmhmm" he tried to physically shove the words back into his mouth, clapping his hands over his mouth again as his body betrayed him.
Theo stepped forward, trying to pry his hands back. "Say it!" he said.
Mattheo tried to wiggle out of his grasp, the two of them thrashing back and forth.
"C'mon mate, time to earn those galleons! Cough it up! How you feel about what?" and Theo yanked Mattheo's hands away from his mouth just long enough for Mattheo to all but shout:
"HER!" he said, loudly, pointing to you. "About YN. I — FUCK — fucking love her."
You could have heard an owl feather hit the floor.
"Oh shit" Malfoy whispered.
Theo took a step back as he realized the enormity of what he'd just done. He'd thought Mattheo had a little crush on you, I mean, didn't they all? He thought it was just a bit of fun. But love? He'd know Mattheo for 7 years and he never so much as heard him say the word, let alone direct it at another person, in fact he knew just how much the concept had been beaten out of him as a child.
"Mate, I'm—" he started.
Mattheo glared at him in way that reminded you for a moment about the family he came from, and it was the first time you'd ever seen Theo genuinely afraid as the smile dropped from his lips and he took an unconscious step back.
"Fuck you" Mattheo said, stepping towards him, the measured control in his voice somehow more frightening than the alternative. "You always take shit too far, you know that? That's why—"
"—Matty?" you said, your quiet whisper and the questions that lingered behind it tugging at his heart and pulling his attention back to you.
He met your eyes and the fury he felt at Theo dissolved in an instant, like it had apparated from the room, because the way you were looking at him was an expression he'd only seen in his dreams. You didn't look angry or confused, you weren't laughing or embarrassed, the sparkle in your eye was back and a soft smile rested on your lips, your eyes were blown wide, hopeful even, with a hint of something else underneath that had a sensation like melted honey spreading throughout his entire body.
"Can we maybe talk... outside...?" you asked.
"Yes, for the love of the gods" he said, walking quickly to your side, letting his hand rest gently at your back, the intimate gesture not lost on anybody as your friends wolf-whistled and snickered and he flipped them the finger over his head.
Now that the truth was out, there was nothing stopping the words that flew out of Mattheo's mouth as you led him to a nearby secluded corridor.
"I really want to talk to you about this" he said, the moment you were outside of the dormitory, "I am so embarrassed that it came out that way, that's not at all how I wanted to tell you, well, I didn't want to tell you at all, I was terrified actually. I've liked you for a long time, really since the first day we met, do you remember? On the train? You were wearing that blue jumper, you smelled like cinnamon and vanilla... You always smell so fucking good—"
You laughed as you pulled him with greater urgency by the hand away from prying eyes as he continued to ramble on, the truth serum creating a veritable waterfall of words out of his mouth.
"—You're so fucking beautiful, I love your hair, your eyes, your smile, your nose... that sounds weird, but it's true, it's so fucking cute—"
"—Mattheo" you said, as you stopped, placing your hands on his chest and pressing him gently against the stone wall to get him to slow down. "Breathe."
He shook his head.
"No, it's out now, and I don't know how long this shit lasts and if I don't say this stuff now, I'm not sure I'll ever have the balls to say it to your face, I've held onto this for 7 years YN."
Your lips curled into a small pout at how sweet he was being, at the idea that your best friend had been pining for you since you were 11 years old.
"I love you" he continued breathlessly, "and not like a little bit. Like, a lot. I don't know..." he said, carding his hand through his brown curls, "I've never felt this way about anyone, anything. I'm all consumed with you. You're the only thing I think about, the only girl I want, I'd do anything for you. And I'm sorry if this is going to totally wreck our friendship, if you want things to stay the way they are, I will try my level best—"
But his words were cut short as you pressed your lips to his, capturing his truth, letting it wash over you, every word you had been desperate to hear, every thought you'd shared the same. It surprised him for only a second before his hands grasped your face and he pulled you further into him.
"You're fucking perfect" he whispered after a moment, his eyes dancing over your features.
"Remind me again why I didn't give you veritaserum like years ago?" you said, smiling against his lips.
"It's a felony?" he said, laughing.
"...Right" you said, laughing back.
You were only gone a few minutes, but as you scurried back to the dormitory you tried to fix your hair, and wipe the lipgloss off of Mattheo's face as he smiled down at you with puppy dog eyes.
"They're going to lose their mind" you said quietly just outside the door, "let's just play it cool, alright?"
And before he could respond that there was no way on earth he could possibly do that, you pushed the door open and all conversation stopped.
"...Alright?" Theo asked, turning to face you both, nervous at the potential mess he may have caused.
"Fine, we were just talking—"
"—She macked me!!" Mattheo shouted truthfully with a huge grin on his face as he wrapped his arm around you.
You gasped and swatted at him playfully, your cheeks blushing a rosy pink as your friends erupted into cheers, hoot and hollers, descending on you both as Mattheo looked down at you, glowing, happier than you could ever remember seeing him.
taglist: @girllblogging777, @iamdnb, @bookworm124, @zatannasrealgf, @r-a-c-h-e-l
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Suguru walking in on you pleasing yourself would probably go something like…
“Well, shit. Didn’t know I had such a slut for a wife,” He’d comment mere seconds after walking in on you.
You’d be laying on your stomach, back arched, knees bent, legs spread, and a hand in between your legs as you fuck a rather lengthy dildo into your sloppy cunt. Your husband, who you weren’t expecting to be home so soon, seems anything but surprised to catch you like this.
If anything, Geto barely tilts his head as he approaches the bed and then cracks a smirk, “Look at this pussy… fuuck, she’s drippin’ all over the place. All because of some stupid toy?” As he makes his comments, he’s unbuckling his belt and tossing it to the side.
“Suguu… S’not ‘cause of the toy,” You huff out with a pout, shamelessly staring at your husband as you continue pleasing yourself. “I missed you.”
“Yeah? Y’Missed me baby?” He’d tease, not even bothering to take his shirt off as he can’t help but reach forward and swat your hand away from the toy stuffed inches inside your cunt. He’d purposefully drag the item out of you, listening to that filthy squelch before brining it to his mouth and licking your taste off. “Mmh. Couldn’t even wait f’me, huh? Were you missin’ me or my cock, princess?”
You let out a heavy sigh and wiggle your hips back a bit, begging for him to give you something-, anything, “Both Suguru.”
“Needy ass girl,” He’d scoff in response.
He’s actually rather kind when he catches you pleasing yourself. Which is how and why you ended up with his cock inside you not too long after he’s come home.
Geto doesn’t really like knowing you were getting off without him but at the same time, something about coming home to you whining his name as you imagined he was fucking you instead of some toy kinda turned him on. He wondered how often you did this kinda thing.
And so he decides to ask you while he’s stuffing your cunt full of his thick cock, “You fantasize about me often, baby?” He hushes out to you, staring so deep into your eyes that it makes you feel embarrassed all over. His tone is so soft and loving with you too that it just makes you shudder beneath him as if he’s not fucking you at such a merciless pace right mow.
All you can do is nod as your jaw hangs open, “Uhuh… mmgh, I-, hah, think about you a-ah, all the t-time, Sugu.” Your words come out in between moans but that only fuels his arousal.
The way his lips curve into that knowing little smirk has your nails scraping against his back before he lets out a low hiss. “Fuck. You imagine my cock’s inside you when m’not even here?” Geto asks rhetorically before shifting his hips and hitting that one mushy spot inside you, “You replay our moments together, huh? Maybe we should record it one time so you have somethin’ better to get off to.”
Your legs squeeze around his waist and he notices your back arching up off of the bed. Geto thrusts in harder and faster, eager to watch your face twist up the same way it was moments ago before he’d caught you— he’d never let you feel that euphoric sensation more with some toy instead of his cock. Not that he’s jealous, of course…
“S-Sugu,” You choke out with how rough his hips grow against yours.
His head tips down into the crook of your neck and you can feel his fat cockhead knocking deeper and deeper into your sopping walls as his strokes become more calculated-, passionate almost. “Mhm, I know baby, I know,” He coos against your skin, his breath hot and tone almost hoarse, “M’right here,” God, his gentleness was a complete contrast to those mean hips of his.
Even the way his hands traced along your arms in search of your hand to grab had you so utterly weak.
“Y’missed this right?” Geto whispers hotly as he shifts his lips up to the crown of your ear, “Missed how I treat this pussy, huh?”
Your neck arches as you toss your head back and you feel his fingers squeeze onto one of your hands whilst he presses it down into the mattress. Moaning quiet little babbles in agreement to his soft-spoken yet lewd words, your cunt gushes around his aching cock, almost invitingly encouraging him to continue talking like that.
And who is he to ignore such encouragement? Pressing against your ear again, he starts fucking you a little slower but noticeably harder, “Agh… Missed you too, pretty girl. Hah, missed how she,” He emphasizes that word with a heavier thrust, “Takes me so fuckin’ well-, shit.”
Then he moans into your ear and you think you cum at the sound alone. So clear and provocative, echoing in your ear and making your mind go blissfully blank. “Ha-ah… ngh, Suguru, I… mmh..” You moan as his cock splits you open so deliciously.
Hell, that’s all you could do. Geto weighs his body down against you, pinning you to the mattress completely as he drags his cock almost all the way out of your twitching pussy just to give you a seconds rest. Not that it really helped as he slipped his dick right back into you, his jaw dropping and a filthy moan leaving his wet lips at the way your cunt feels so utterly soaked and warm wrapped around his cock.
Geto swears he could fuck you like this for hours and hours and hours but he’s too eager to see other things.
“Gonna have t’show me how you fuck yourself one of these days, love.” He huffs out breathlessly between thrusts.
You quickly start shaking your head at that—lost between reaching your high and processing his words, “N-No…”
“No? Oh c’mon,” He puts on this pout to mock you, “You don’t wanna show me? We’re married… I’ve shown you how I touch myself when you’re not around, why can’t you do the same, hm?”
“S’embarrassing…” You mumble with your lower lip poking out so deliciously that it makes your husband smirk.
“Aw, it’s embarrassing?” He teases, “Baby, I like it when you’re embarrassed. Plus, you looked so fuckin’ cute tryin’ to fuck yourself without me. Could’ barely take that piece of plastic ‘nd it’s smaller than my cock.”
“Sugu-“
“M’just sayin’…” He shrugs, “I want you to put on a lil’ show f’me. You can do that can’t you?” You’re shaking your head all over again and he frowns, “No? But baby,” His body presses down against you as if to emphasize his words and you could feel his tip pressing into your sweet spot, “C’mon, don’t make me beg for it.”
“I-I…” You’re left stuttering and moaning as your eyes travel to the back of your skull, “Ah, Suguru-, mgh…”
“Or would you rather me demand it, huh? Should I tell you you’re gonna show me what you were doin’ with that toy before I got here?” Geto pants into your ear, his lips brushing against your warm skin as you nod frantically in response. “Yeahhh? Alright then, gimme one more ‘nd then you’ll put on a lil’ show for me, ‘kay?”
#jjk smut#getou suguru x y/n#suguru geto smut#geto suguru x reader#geto x you#geto smut#getou suguru x reader#jujutsu geto#geto x reader#jjk geto#geto suguru#geto x y/n#jujutsu suguru#suguru x you#jjk suguru#jujutsu kaisen suguru#suguru smut#sugusato#suguru#jjk x you#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#anime smut#jjk x reader smut#jjk x you smut
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Bear Necessities
Synopsis: what life is like married to brown bear hybrid!Nanami Warnings: 18+ mdni, smutty, fluffy, cursing, established relationship, marriage, cunnilingus, blowjob, unprotected sex, baby fever, lactation kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise, dom!nanami, backshot, mention of fleshlight, sub!reader, possessiveness, threat of violence or harm, creampie, knotting, not proofread Word Count: 3.5k
Being married to Bear hybrid!Nanami means having to tip toe your entire relationship because he’s so tall. He does make the effort to hunch down for you, growling softly against your neck about how small and fragile his beautiful wife is. But he’s not always so nice. No, your Kento likes to tease, much to your chagrin.
“Sweetheart, I’ll be late for my morning class,” he remarks, peering at you over his glasses as you hold onto his shoulders for purchase, jumping to reach his face. “And you know I can’t possibly start my day without my morning kiss. You wouldn’t leave me waiting, would you?”
His words are sweet, always so sweet, but the way he’s pawing at your hips and dipping lower to squeeze your ass are nothing but. Lifting you up in one arm, he brings you face to face with his gentle grin, his pearly whites glinting in the morning sun.
“Hi, darling,” he whispers.
Savouring his soft lips and feeling the soft bristles of his beard, you mutter, “I’ll miss you, Kenny.”
“I’ll miss you too, my darling love. But soon we’ll be away for hibernation, yes? And then you’ll have me all to yourself for months.”
“Dada!”
Kento laughs, a big smile taking over his face until his eyes are crinkling in the corner. With you still held up by one arm, he opens the other for your two cubs to jump onto him. Kenji, the eldest, climbs up his huge back, biting onto his father’s thick neck and growling in challenge. Whereas, Mio sits politely in his other arm, chubby hand petting his beard with wide eyes.
“One of these days, we’ll all be too big to be carried like this, Kento,” you say with a sigh.
The glimmer in his warm eyes melts your heart. “That day will never come, my love.”
“Yeah! Dada’s strong,” Kenji argues, to which his little sister agrees, nodding furiously.
“Alright, alright. Dada’s got to go to work, so let’s not hold him up any longer, okay?”
Shifting his tie into to place, you bid him farewell, the warmth of his body still imprinted on yours. He leaves you one last kiss against your forehead, eyes roving over his family, with his eldest puffing his chest out to say he’ll take over the big bear duties now.
Satisfied, Kento is off to work and you jump on your kids, peppering kisses and attacking them with giggles.
“Let’s go bake some cookies!”
Bear hybrid!Nanami isn’t always so mild-mannered. Though he isn’t quick to be riled up, there are, unfortunately, certain things that seem to trigger those prominent animalistic instincts. For example, he’s not particularly fond of the your neighbour.
The single male is a husky who knocks on the door often, requesting sugar or dropping by gifts for the cubs. He’s completely harmless, if a little too bright and cheerful. In fact, you can tell he’s a good person, but that doesn’t matter for your husband. All males are a threat.
One evening, your neighbour knocks whilst Kento’s in the kitchen. Discussing the recent neighbourhood bake sale, you must have been gone far longer than your husband would have liked because he eventually appears behind you, impossibly taller and broader.
He casts a shadow on you and on the husky who only grins cheekily. Winding a paw around your waist, he snaps his jaws together, flashing his canines. The message is clear: leave his territory now. Your neighbour retreats back, giving you one last wink before the door slams shut.
Bear hybrid!Nanami buries his face in your neck, inhaling deeply in rapid succession, chest heaving as you’re pinned to the door. His hold on you is calculatedly light enough to not hurt but they do threaten to leave indentations should you attempt to push him away as he’s recollecting himself.
This doesn’t very often; something about that husky sets him off. You can’t say you hate when he’s like this. How could you when he’s shoving a leg between yours and caging you in his arms?
He’s shuffling his entire body against yours, rubbing his scent as thoroughly as he can. His thigh presses roughly against your moistening core. Gravelly, he groans, “Who are you married to?”
“You.”
A paw urges your hips up and down on his leg, seeking that tantalising honey from your insides. Kento stops inhaling, only to lick up the length of your neck, marking you so that there would be no confusion as to whom you belong to. His sharp teeth scrape the skin in warning — it isn’t enough for the others to know you’re his mate, you must know that too.
“Again.”
“I’m your wife. I’m yours, Ken.”
You cum just like that, shuddering against his burly chest, buried in his pecs. He rubs soothing circles in your back in apology for his aggressive behaviour. Without much regret in his voice, he admits, “I’m terribly sorry, darling. I don’t know what came over me.”
“I do,” you mumble against his repenting lips, fingers pressing the wet streak that’s formed over his trousers. “I made a mess, sorry, Kenny.”
Glasses foggy and cheeks flushed, he shakes his head. “Nothing to apologise for, my love. You were, and are, nothing short of perfect. Always. Now, come. Let’s eat. The kids must be starving.”
Bear hybrid!Nanami goes through hyperphagia during the autumnal months, when the weather begins to become colder. He eats almost double his usual, consuming more berries and salmon — your grocery budget goes through the roof trying to keep his hunger satiated.
This does mean, however, that your husband stores more fat. But it isn’t an awful experience. Rather, it’s actually the sexiest thing ever. Seeing him grow rounder in his arms, his face, his stomach and his thighs is incredible. You notice the added weight when he lays on your chest at night, laying a possessive hand on your tummy.
He almost crushes you when he does that. At first, he simply takes extra care around you, making sure he moves slowly and carefully, but as the winter approaches and he grows even bigger, sleeping on you is no longer an option and you must lie on his chest, the hairs there tickling your nose.
You can’t keep your hands off Bear hybrid!Nanami in those months. Even as he’s sorting through papers in his office, you just can’t help but crawl under his desk and fish out his thick cock. It’s long, thicker at the base where those fuzzy blond hairs are than the curve. He’s even bigger as he’s bulking. There, in his base, is a little knot-like curve that makes your mouth water.
“Feeling needy, darling?”
You hum, teasing your lips against his tip. “For you? Always.”
He lands a heavy paw on your head, guiding your head lower. Taking him in, in any holes, is never easy. You have to mentally prepare yourself by re-familiaring yourself with his scent, his texture, and his taste by licking from base to tip, circling the head and peering up at him as his breathing becomes heavy. Only once does he begin releasing pained groans do you stretch your lips to engulf him.
“Sweetheart, go -ha- slowly,” he advices. “I’ll cum too fast if you’re rough with me.”
His thighs are so thick you palm them, eyes rolling back at the pudge there, still solid and firm from his strength, and the knowledge that he could crush you with them makes you so wet, you moan around his cock.
The growls coming from his chest vibrate the wooden desk you’re under, heady air puffing from his mouth as he curls his lips back, big arms tensing whilst he grips the wood with a deathly force, knuckles white. You hear it creak above you. You suck harder.
“Almost there, honey. Keep -ngh- going.”
When he spurts in your mouth, painting your throat with his seed, he thumbs at your bottom lip, smearing the wetness of both his cum and your drool all over your chin before he pulls it down to inspect your mouth. “Swallow it all, my love. That’s right. Such a good girl.”
During hibernation, the entire family is sluggish. The children sleep all day. Kento practically never leaves the bed. Though he’s eaten enough in the season before to only need to eat once in a while, the same can’t be said for you. No, you still need to eat three meals a day.
You know that. And your husband knows that, too.
So, why does he refuse to let go of you in the mornings, afternoons, and evenings?
Held by his brawny arms, one around your chest, groping your tit, and the other circling your neck, you literally cannot move. Especially not with the hefty thigh he’s thrown over both of your legs. The snow he senses outside urges his instincts to keep all sources of warmth with him, even if the hottest thing in your room is himself, with all the heat emanating from his huge body.
“Ken, I’m hungry,” you whine.
He huffs, no rebuttal escaping him.
His glasses have been safely tucked away in a drawer, and he’s wrapped tightly in a bulky sweater, hair all mussed up. He looks even paler during the winter, the only colour on his skin being the flush across his cheeks. Kento is the epitome of comfor during hibernation — it’s his favourite time of the year. He gets paid leave and so do you, the government understanding the importance of hybrids having support systems during such a vulnerable time.
With his cubs all safe and sound at home, just in the next room, and his wife by his side at every given moment, there’s nothing else he could possibly ask for. Except maybe for you to stop squirming to get away.
“I’m literally starving, Kento,” you grumble.
Bear hybrid!Nanami relents at the very last second, pulling those heavy limbs back enough for you to slide out from under them. You rush to the bathroom for your much needed reprieve and then head straight to the kitchen. Your husband had kept you captive until it was past lunchtime.
He is so ridiculously selfish during these winter months.
Careful to make as little noise as possible, you make a quick breakfast. Waiting for the bread to pop up from the toaster, all golden brown and warm, you tap your foot against the floor. It’s an odd feeling to rarely cook in the winter season — all year round, there’s practically never enough food for your husband and your children. Now, you pretty much only cook for yourself.
You may not have the bear instincts they do, but you are a mother. You have to constantly fight the urge to shake your babies awake and shove hearty stews and delicious pies down their throats. Whenever you sneak into their rooms, all you ever get are grumbles of complaint about how loud you’re being. And if you leave the bed too often to check up on them, making sure they’re still breathing, your husband becomes adorably irritated and carries them over to your bedroom, everyone piling on top.
“You left me waiting so long, sweetheart,” Kento grumbles into your neck, startling you.
Somehow, he had managed to creep up behind, bare feet padding quietly until he reached the kitchen where he promptly rested his weight onto you. Almost toppling over by the sudden weight, you yelp.
“Ken! Go back to bed.”
Skimming his nose against your neck, he hums, “Can’t sleep without my wife.”
He patiently waits with you, hugging you from behind as he practically dozes off on top of your head, steady breathing causing his chest to rise and fall, coaxing you back to sleepiness too. He reaches over, plating the toasts for you as soon as they emerge, wary they’re too hot for your sensitive human hands.
Taking your last bite, your world turns topsy turvy when you’re thrown over his shoulder, a large hand palming your thigh all the way up to your ass. Upon reaching your bedroom, he climbs in with you still clinging to his torso. You lay on top of him. He doesn’t complain about the weight, rather he groans from the feeling of you, all of you, keeping him warm and grounded.
“If you were a bear, honey,” he mumbles sleepily, hand rubbing your back, “those toasts would be enough to keep you in bed with me for weeks. How lovely would that be?”
Playfully, you retort, “You should marry one, then.”
“There’s no one else for me but you. Human or hybrid, you’re perfect. Just perfect,” he muses.
Grabbing your left hand, he rests it on his which lies on the pillow above his head. Your rings clink together as he clutches every part of you tightly, like you might disappear when he wakes up, like this marriage with you has been all one big dream.
What a sweet slumber and a bitter waking it would be.
“See you on the other side, Kenny,” you say absentmindedly.
Kissing the top of your head, he affirms, “Always.”
Once winter passes, Bear hybrid!Nanami returns to work and your kids go back to school, catching up with their friends like they haven’t been asleep almost the entire time.
The snow’s all gone and the frost in the air disappears, signalling a brand new start. Your cubs will grow bigger, whilst your husband shifts back to his normal size, still enormous and intimidating, but much more hardened. In the spring, that brings its own set of problems.
“The cubs are at their friends’, sweetheart.” Kento hugs you from behind as you stir a pot in the kitchen. You already know where this is going. You’ve lived through enough springs with the man to know that the bulge he’s grinding against your ass isn’t a simple expression of his love for you.
Sighing, you ask, “Isn’t two plenty, Ken?”
He growls, teeth scraping your neck as he squeezes every inch of flesh his paws can reach. “I’m a greedy man. I want more of you. I want one that has your eyes and your wit. And another with your hair and your humour.”
When he cups your pussy through your dress, there’s nothing you can say in argument before he places you atop the counter, hob off and food left to grow cold. He’s got something more delicious in mind.
He grips your thighs, legs spread to accommodate his wide berth. Leaving a big bite on your skin, a red mark begins to grow and the growl vibrating in his chest tells you everything you need to know. Kento isn’t stopping until your stomach balloons with his cubs once more.
“Smells so good, sweetheart.” He presses his nose against your clothed core, burying the tip on your clit. His mouth waters with the tantalising scent filling his senses. “Always smell so good. I can never focus when you’re around.”
Your panties are ripped apart in his claws, torn to shred but before you can even process the destruction, he’s already diving in, your wetness coating his beard. Kento laps up all the juice you produce, suckling that tight little bud, rolling it with his tongue to hear your moans.
You pull at his hair, so thick and luscious, and jut your hips up. The pleasure quickly grows overwhelming and you’re squirming away, clawing to find escape from the mind-numbing euphoria.
Bear hybrid!Nanami growls, throwing a heavy arm over your stomach and he gnaws on your thigh in warning. “Do not move. Do not run. I couldn’t bear it. Not right now, sweetheart. You will give me what I want and you will thank me, yes?”
Panting, you nod your head. “Yes, yes. I’m sorry, Kenny.”
Eyes narrowing, he licks up the bruise he’s planted on your thigh in apology before he dives right back in with greater vigour. He wriggles his tongue inside, his nose teasing your clit, and you cum, creaming right into his mouth. Your husband makes low noises of approval, grip on your body turning punishing.
Bones a mush, he spins you around, wrangling you into position. Kento doesn’t give you a second to even recollect yourself. Your back to his chest, he pulls down the neckline of your dress, cupping your tits with calloused paws.
“These will fill up with milk for our cubs and they’ll feed our babies,” he reminds you, pinching your nipples and you can almost imagine the sensitivity you’ll develop. “You get aches here, don’t you, darling? It’ll be alright. Your husband will take care of you, hmm? He’ll suck out all the milk so you don’t clog up.”
In one hard thrust, he shoves his length inside you. You gasp, eyes wide and jaw dropping. You feel so full. His long and thick cock is pressing against all the sensitive spots in your pussy, kissing your cervix. Your juices coat him, leaving shiny dew drops on the blond hairs at his base.
“Feel me here, my love?” He’s got a paw pressing hard on the imprint of his bulge. When he presses harder, you clench down, jolts of electricity tickling your spine. “Ngh, that’s right. That’s where our cubs will be. You’ll grow -god you’re so beautiful- round until you can’t see your toes anymore. Oh, and then you’ll need me to put your socks on and -so tight ha- tie your laces, right?”
“Yes, Ken!”
He’s pummelling deep inside of you, head rubbing against that spot that makes you cream even more. The force in which he’s thrusting is leaving you a shaking mess, having to cling onto the counter to steady yourself.
“I’ll protect you -ha goodness- and our family. Always. N-no one will harm you. You’ll always be safe with me,” he chants and you’re not even sure he’s talking to you. Kento can only plunge his cock inside, that bulge at the base inching its way in with no regard for how your pussy’s having to stretch impossibly to fit all of him.
You cling onto that one hand keeping your hips still. “Ken! I can’t. It’s too much!”
He bites your neck, digging into your skin. Those meaty arms wrap completely around you, and he’s lifting you up and dragging you down on his cock. Your head is lolled against his shoulder, limbs limp as he uses you like a glorified fleshlight.
“Nonsense. You’ll take it all in. You’ve done it before and you’ll do it again. For your Kento, yes? For your beloved husband? For your Kenny?”
You scream as your orgasm washes over you like a tsunami, snatching you under until you’re left panting for breath, vision blurring from the tears cascading down your cheeks. He licks one that trails down your jaw and the salty taste, coupled with the almost painful squeezing of your sloppy cunt, pushes him over the edge.
Spurts of white paint your quivering walls, your clit throbbing as he shudders against you with a prolonged growl.
“So good. Always so good for me.” He makes a satisfied noise, grinding his hips deeper inside to plug up your pussy, keeping all of his seed inside. “What would you like, honey?”
You already know what he means and you don’t hesitate to answer, slurring, “Another boy and girl. So that we’ll have even numbers.”
His laughter rumbles and he kisses your neck, lips sliding through the sheen of sweat. He’s still holding you up with ease. “That would be nice. If we only get one boy, we can try for a girl soon after, and vice versa. What do you say, my love?”
You’re almost asleep, thoroughly exhausted even as your pussy still spasms around his thick cock, sensitive from the warmth of his flesh and his seed. Mind elsewhere, you can only reply, “Whatever you want, Ken.”
“Don’t say things like that, sweetheart. Because you know if I had it my way, you’ll always be pregnant and our house would be filled with mini yous all the time.”
The image causes him to throb inside you, cock not softening but rather getting bigger somehow. And when he begins rocking his hips once more, you know he likes the idea a little too much.
You go for rounds after rounds until you’re leaving a trail of cum as he carries you over to the bathroom, where he takes you again and again, eating up the overflowing mixture of your combined essence.
Bear hybrid!Nanami never needs to try hard to convince you for anything. All he needs to do is flash you that soft smile and flex those huge muscles and you’re creating a sloppy mess in your panties. And he knows when he’s charm has taken the effect he intended. His sense of smell is so powerful he can tell when you’re growing needy from even across the house, where he chases you and pins you to the ground.
The next hibernation is spent taking care of newborns. A boy and a girl. And oh, how proud is your husband to have given you exactly what you wanted. His heart couldn’t be any more full. Except for a couple months later when he’s pawing at your breasts again.
#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk fic#jjk oneshot#nanami kento#nanami x you#nanami x reader#jjk x you#nanami smut#Jjk hybrid au#hybrid au#Nanami hybrid#Nanami fic#Nanami oneshot
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Headcanon that Shen Yuan was hotter than Shen Qingqiu, actually.
Like yeah SQQ being a cultivator gave him a boost to enough attributes + being in a stallion novel where everyone is either unrealistic hot or dog's butt ugly got the Shen Qingqiu body extra points, and he wasn't bad looking to begin with. Plus not being ill is vastly more important to the new Shen Qingqiu than those extra hotness points (Without a Cure notwithstanding). But part of the reason why he's kind of like, meh, at least I'm not hideous or anything, is because Shen Yuan's original body was a knock out.
I also like him as chronically ill, and, as many people know, beauty standards and sustained suffering are not as incompatible as they should be. Shen Yuan was conventionally attractive in part because conventional beauty standards seem to want everyone slowly dying all the time. But even setting that aside, the man had flawless bone structure, an appealing figure, captivating eyes, and the kind of voice that stopped people in their tracks.
All of which was a contributing factor to his antisocial lifestyle, actually. Despite the fact that Shen Yuan does enjoy company and requires a certain baseline of social enrichment for his enclosure, his internalized homophobia and closeting did not play well with overtures from interested parties (regardless of gender). The only way to minimize the odds of him being asked out on dates was to essentially become a shut-in, especially since even Shen Yuan can only make so many excuses before he himself starts to notice that he's going to a lot of effort to avoid specifically that avenue of socialization. Far better to just remove himself from any risk of it, and then vocally lament that oh no he's just too much of a nerd to get anywhere with women!
Anyway this largely doesn't matter much outside of sheer comedy potential for any situation where SY gets his old body/life back. Like imagine a reveal scenario where the System is going to transport them back to their old lives.
Shang Qinghua: well bro I guess this is gonna be the ultimate test of love, right?
Shen Yuan: what do you mean?
Shang Qinghua: our husbands are gonna see what we looked like back before we were glorious cultivators! they're going to have to track us down in our mundane, kinda shitty pre-transmigration lives! it's gonna be at least a little embarrassing, right?
Shen Yuan: *gets his old body back*
Shang Qinghua, normal human with average looks: ...
Shen Yuan, exemplary 11/10: ?
Shang Qinghua: what. the fuck?? bro what the fuck why are you hot???
Shen Yuan: don't make it weird
Shang Qinghua: make it weird??? why were you sitting at home reading my shitty novel when you could have been out there building your own harem???
Shen Yuan: stop exaggerating
Shang Qinghua: oh my god you've always been like this. this is it, isn't it? it wasn't even brain damage from the transmigration or something--
Shen Yuan: hey
Shang Qinghua: --you've just always been completely unaware, haven't you? every time I wrote a beautiful woman who didn't know her own appeal you'd be jumping down my throat--
Shen Yuan: because that's a stupid trope--!
Shang Qinghua: --JUMPING DOWN MY THROAT EXACTLY LIKE THAT but this whole time THIS WHOLE TIME it wasn't even a glow-up issue, you've just been that, personified, yourself--
Shen Yuan: look I know I'm not ugly but I'm not I'm hardly that good-looking
Shang Qinghua: YOU ARE NEVER ALLOWED TO CRITICIZE THAT TROPE AGAIN! oh my god. how many broken hearts did you leave behind when you died?!
Shen Yuan: none, I wasn't even seeing anyone--
Shang Qinghua: yeah full offense but I am nottt taking your word for that. I bet you had a harem you didn't know about in this lifetime too. I bet you had a fan club, like an anime prince
Shen Yuan: *mumbling*
Shang Qinghua: what was that?
Shen Yuan: I said... only in high school...
Shang Qinghua: oh my god
Shen Yuan: it wasn't a big deal!
Shang Qinghua: *frantically trying to see if he can find any trace of it on the internet now*
#svsss#scum villain's self saving system#scum villain#peerless cucumber#shang qinghua#shen qingqiu#shen yuan#bingqiu#moshang#and shades of#cumplane#binghe was ROBBED lol not really though#he likes shizun no matter what form he's in#mobei's also into whatever airplane has going on#cumplane have the kind of relationship where one turning out hot is just more ways for the other to roast him
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ROAD TRIP STOP | LOGAN HOWLETT x READER
taking a small road trip with old man logan where you’re halfway to where you need to be, and you're bored out of your mind. unluckily for you, your boyfriend won't possibly give into your antics.
or, logan fucks you in a gas station bathroom <3
word count: 3.3k
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WARNINGS/DISCLAIMERS: (18+ only!) fem!reader, porn w/ slight plot lol, piv, unprotected sex, this shit is roughhh, degrading, filthyyy dirty talk, use of pet names, slight choking, coming inside/creampie, manhandling? i guess?, logan refers to himself as "your old man" bc i'm insane, anddd happy ending bc we all know how much i love those! :D
a/n: there aren't nearly enough fics abt old man logan & i need him Badly.
+ logan pictures from @divinesols incredible moodboard <3
ao3 link! | my masterlist
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you’re 4 hours into your road trip, and logan, well, being the man he is, hasn’t let you drive a single second.
he tells you that you can just sit there n’ look pretty and that’s good enough for him. but, he’s getting tired, and the nearest hotel isn’t for another 50 miles.
you notice his eyes getting heavier, his body slouching more, his grip on the steering wheel loosening. so, you do what you do best. why not have some harmless fun with your old boyfriend?
your hands subtly inch over to his thighs, fingers trailing the clothed skin just above his knee, and he flinches surprisingly, glancing at you for a moment with that tired face of his.
“what are y’doing? huh?” he asks, with a quirk in his eyebrow and his voice rasping more than usual from his fatigue; it only makes it all the more arousing for you.
you grin, your head turned to look up at him with a sly expression. “just waking you up a bit. you’re practically falling asleep here.”
your fingers move upwards now, slowly but surely, and right before you can reach the spot just below his bulge, he sighs out, gripping your hand to lightly push it off of him.
“not here. got another hour left til’ we’re at the hotel. then, we can rest up, baby.”
you pout, looking at him eagerly. “are you even gonna make it there, lo?” you tease, “your eyes are getting heavier, you’re tired.. why don’t you just let me drive?” you attempt, but you’re knocked down the second you try.
he huffs, shaking his head. “don’t you try that shit. you know what m’gonna say to that.”
you groan at that, rolling your eyes fussily as your head turns to look up at the roof of the car. “you’re insufferable,” you sigh out, jokingly, of course. but, you were with logan long enough to know just how stubborn he could be. that he could almost always be.
which means, you knew exactly how to get what you wanted, in more ways than one.
let’s just say this way was more fun, anyway.
you let out an exasperated breath before turning back to face him, your eyes lighting up just slightly before you open up your mouth.
“guess i just gotta..” you trail off, hands now on your body with your fingertips grazing the skin on your chest; roaming around the loose shirt you had on. “..entertain myself for the next hour then..”
logan turns his head to you now, eyes fixing on your hand just long enough to catch you slip it underneath your bra, cupping one of your tits. you let out a low moan as you look into his eyes, fingers rolling the nipple there, and he scoffs.
it’s a sound that has your heart racing immediately.
“you’ve been a good girl so far, sweetheart. would hate for you to switch up when we’re almost fuckin’ there.” he warns you, turning his head back to the road, having seen enough. “don’t you start now. gonna make you regret it.”
a pang of arousal hits you just like that, pussy involuntarily clenching around nothing as he threatens you; a threat that you definitely need to see for yourself.
you merely pout at him again, but his words aren’t enough to stop you. not when you’re just getting started.
your hand leaves your breast, slowly inching down your stomach, then to the waistband of your shorts, all with your eyes still locked on him. you bite your lip as your hand breaches underneath the material, testing the waters before your fingers reach the hem of your panties.
fingertips aching to dip into the wet heat, you anticipate your own touch as your hands lower, but an immediate grasp at your wrist stops you completely, eliciting a gasp from your throat.
mouth falling open in shock, you turn to look at the man responsible with that gruff look on his face, and that snarl from him gives you more than enough of a warning.
you clear your throat, letting out a noise of frustration towards your boyfriend as he all but tosses your hand away carelessly.
“knock. it. off. don’t make me say it again.”
logan nearly growls at you, moving in closer to get right in your face; he isn’t playing around, and you know it.
but, god, does it only encourage you more.
it isn’t until logan’s focus is completely back on the road that you test the waters again; your fingers finally inserting themselves into your soft, warm folds, wet and waiting so impatiently.
it makes you moan, a hushed sound that you try your hardest to bite back from releasing, but you’re evidently unsuccessful.
so, before you know it, the truck is swerving, causing you to pull yourself back to hold onto the sides of the car, anywhere that you could grab onto. the wheels squeal loudly as the high pitch penetrates your ears, and logan makes a harsh u-turn without a second to waste.
“lo! what the fuck!” you exclaim loudly, wild eyes reaching for his own, but it’s no use. he’s dead set in front of him, shaking his head furiously as the white of his knuckles present itself from holding onto the wheel so tightly.
he’s had enough of your shit.
his eyes never leave the road in front of him once, never returning to you. no matter how much you talk or try to get him to respond, he doesn’t budge.
instead, for the next 5 minutes, silence fills the space between you as your eyes shut from your frustration. it’s all you really can do at this point.
but, it’s only when the high screech of the wheels halting and the gear being put into park has your eyes opening again, eyes latching onto the bright lights in front of you.
a gas station, and the convenience store’s white luminescent glass reflecting on logan’s face. he’s out the driver’s side as soon as you can look at him, and before you can process it, he’s dragging you out of the truck, slamming the door shut as he does so.
you scramble against him, fists almost pushing their hardest into his chest as you whine loudly, increasingly dazed and confused.
“logan, what the fuck are you doing?! let go of me!”
you fight against him harder, but there’s nothing stopping him. not now.
he lets out an exasperated breath, his heavy footsteps embedding themselves into the loud gravel beneath them as he drags you along.
“don’t play that shit with me. actin’ like you don’t know what the hell you’re doing,” he practically yells at you in a hushed voice, “you know what the fuck you’re doing.”
“walk.” he orders you instantly, and you don’t hesitate to obey. not when his voice gets like that.
most of all, because it makes your heart pound—pounding in your chest because he’s right. you know what you’re doing.. but, you can’t say you regret it. no, not one bit.
and if he’s gonna make you regret it, you might as well go all out. right?
his grip on your arm is tight as you walk side by side with him, leading you into the gas station with the door open for you. you can’t even acknowledge the cashier from how quick logan swifts the two of you past them; straight towards the bathroom, and it makes you gulp.
it’s too late for anyone to be around, too late for anyone to care, and you know that. but, the thought exhilarates you anyway.
he shoves the door open with a hushed whisper—one that’s almost incoherent as it escapes his lips. “you wanna act like a fucking brat?” he shuts the door hurriedly, shoving your body against the sink, “i’m gonna treat you like a fucking brat.”
you yelp at the sudden movement, his fingers digging themselves into your skin as you cry out at the feeling. it’s rough and brutal and it burns, but it’s so fucking good.
“lo.. lo, please,” you whine as your eyes shut tightly, the overwhelming sensation of his hands on you and his hot breath hitting your skin being too much to handle.
your body is flush against the sink as you attempt to squirm, to try to get him to do something, anything.
that cruel laugh of his fills your ears—quiet yet booming in your head as it sends chills throughout your entire body, eyes flashing open to look at him in the mirror in front of you. “please? please?” logan mocks you, “do y’even know what you’re asking for, baby? nah.. you don’t.”
“you just want..” logan trails off, his hands mindlessly reaching for your shorts, “to get fucked.. like the whore you are.”
without a single warning, he yanks them down along with your panties, and your whines are impossible to stop when the cool air hits your bare skin. when his filthy words are the only thing you can think about.
“can’t keep these pretty hands to yourself, you gotta rile me up to do it for you?” you hear the clank of his belt unbuckling, the zipper of his jeans sliding down, “gotta piss me off every goddamn time you get so fucking needy? i mean,” he laughs harder now, “not that i really blame you..”
logan pauses, and his eyes that were once staring directly at you now shift to look straight ahead, latching onto your mirrored reflection instead. as if he was looking right into you now. “pretty girl like you.. would be a shame to let this cunt go to waste. so, i’ll do you a favor..”
your jaw falls open in complete shock as your face contorts, as the tip of his cock breaches your tight hole, making your eyes roll back instantaneously with a sob from your lips.
“i’ll use her real good. for what she’s made for, yeah?”
your hands grip the sink in front of you as tightly as possible, body trembling as logan groans into your ear, his hands on your body never loosening.
instead, his grip only tightens as his hips become flush against your ass, his entire cock piercing you to the hilt with a satisfied moan.
“that was easier this time, wasn’t it? gettin’ used to me now. just needed to..” logan takes a moment to pull himself out of you, the tip resting against your entrance as he groans. he slams himself back inside of you so hard that your body fails you, your hands landing on the mirror to hold yourself up, bent over.
“break her in real fucking good.”
your body shakes against him as you cry out at his intrusion, stammering out a string of noises as your walls involuntarily clench around him over and over again. it’s almost as if you’re rapidly adapting to him; the way he stretches you out so much that it hurts in the best way possible. you’re pulsing around him, increasingly growing wetter by the second as your eyes water from the intense sensation.
your words slur with a few whines of what seem to be logan’s name as your hands move back to the sink, attempting to push yourself back up against him, but he stops you. grabbing one of your hands, he places it right against the mirror again, holding it still as he grinds himself into you. it makes you breathe out rapidly, body bent over the sink completely now.
“keep em’ right there. right fucking there. you don’t get to do that. y’don’t get to make any choices here.” he grunts in your ear, his thick beard grazing along your jaw as his eyes flicker from your face back to the mirror. he notices the way you’re trembling, eyes filled with those pretty tears of yours, and it makes him smile—a chuckle leaving him shamelessly.
he takes a moment to admire you, whispering out, “what i’m gonna do to you, baby..” and it makes your eyes flutter shut, warmth filling your core.
his other hand trails up the front of your body now, and it practically covers you completely because of how big it is—your stomach, your breasts, your chest, then finally, your neck. your gasp is loud; heavy, as his fingers wrap around your throat, holding you still for him.
all of you in the palm of his hand—all in his control.
you moan eagerly as he looks into your eyes through the mirror, grinning almost maliciously, “isn’t this what you wanted?” he laughs, his hips stirring a bit as he agonizingly pulls out of you, making you wince, “you wanted my attention so bad, wanted my cock so fucking bad..” he growls in your ear, his hand sliding from your throat to the back of your neck, pushing you down hard, and it makes you grip onto the side of the sink even more.
“well, now you fucking got it.”
the sound of his rasping grunt hits you first; before you’re sobbing out on his cock, pelvis hammering inside of you with a tight hold on your neck, keeping you there with no chance of stopping, no squirming, no escaping.. no running away from this.
all you can do is take it as he pounds into you, the agonizing ache of his cock sliding in and out of you rapidly increasing the coil in your core, your loud cries and moans enough to make him go harder.
“there you go, there she is..” logan grits out, hands now grasping at your hips, smacking your ass, eliciting a grunt from you, “better fuckin’ hope no one walks in here, or else all they’re gonna see is some whore gettin’ used.”
you cry out as you feel the tip of his cock reach the deepest parts inside of you, nudging your g-spot suddenly as a tear slides down your cheek, your knuckles white from how tight you were grasping at your surroundings. your cheeks grow hot from the idea of that happening, stomach tightening as heat pools your core.
“what’d they think, huh? you think they’d wanna join in on the fun? bet they’d wanna fuck you too after i’m done with you. tightest fuckin’ hole i’ve ever had.”
you whine out now, shaking your head desperately in retaliation as you deny it. you couldn’t ever have another man like this, not now, not ever—only him.
logan sighs out, “no, no, no, i’d never let em’ baby, don’t you worry,” he reassures you, pressing his lips against the top of your head, “this,” he murmurs, his hand reaching to cup the front of your cunt, the rough skin on his palm grazing your clit just enough to make you squeal, “s’all fuckin’ mine. you hear me? not a single soul gets to use her like i can.”
“not like she’d want it anyway. only wants my cock in her. s’the only way she can really be filled up.. fucked stupid and cryin’ for me. ain’t that right? never got fucked by a man like me before y’met me, and i’m sure as hell no one will ever get her trembling like i do.”
you shake your head again, tears continuously spilling out of your eyes as your stomach tightens repeatedly, “n-no, lo, only you—” you stammer out as logan buries himself inside of you to the hilt, plunging into the warm heat of your walls, and he slows, relying on pure power than pace now. the harsh drive of his hips has your head fogging up, so close to reaching your peak with your cunt shuddering.
“ohh, there we go, she’s doing it now. shaking all over this fucking cock, squeezin’ me so tight,” he hisses, “that all you up in this pretty little head, or can you even control it? can’t even control it, can you, baby?”
a string of noises leaves your lips, breathless and mixed with whines and a few tears in your eyes as your core spasms out, his cock hitting deep inside of you repeatedly.
“what was that? can’t really.. understand you, baby, y’gotta speak up..” he teases, a mean laugh escaping his throat, “c’monnn, use your words, really think em’ out, say em’ clearly.”
“c’mon, show me that you’re still my good girl. my good little girl. speak up for your old man, honey.”
you yelp out at his filthy words, “m’.. i c-can’t.. control it, ah!” your moans involuntarily stringing out, eyes fluttering shut and rolling to the back of your head, your pussy convulsing around him intensely. “g-gonna–c-cum, lo, oh—” you spit out, your chest grasping for as much air as possible.
he hums in your ear now, fingers reaching for your clit and fastening tight, harsh circles at it, making you shudder, your cunt throbbing around his cock—pulsating over and over again as you start to see white. “gonna fill you up, sweetheart, gonna make you take it, fuck.”
you can’t even register him anymore as he talks you through it, the “come for me, baby,” muffled in your ears as you listen to him, cunt constricting around him tightly as you soak him, and the sound is filthy as logan chases his release, squelching loudly from your climax.
you let out a muffled sob as logan finally reaches his peak, slamming himself deep inside of you as he holds you there, the spurts of white hot spilling & coating your walls. all you can hear is the ringing in your ears, along with the mixture of your heavy breaths and logan’s rasps surrounding you.
logan’s strong arms pull you up against him as you catch your breath, heart rate slowing as your back leans against his chest tiredly. he mutters sweet nothings to you, praising you with kisses along your neck, cheek, then to your lips.
“my good fucking girl, my sweet girl—oh, baby,” he hums in your ear, eyes shut as he takes you in. you sigh out, breathing him in as your hand reaches behind, landing on the back of his head to pull him in closer, “god, i love you.”
you laugh, pressing a mindless kiss on his skin, “i love you more, lo, i–i’m sorry for acting out, for being such a—” you begin to apologize, but he just shuts you up with another peck to your lips. “shh, you hush now. i appreciate it.. you riling me up all the damn time. s’ the only way i can still feel so young.”
you giggle, eyes opening up to turn your head to him, taking in his disheveled look—tired, old, grumpy. the man you loved, as handsome as ever.
“always young in my eyes, lo..” you smile, “besides.. it’s the only way i can get you to fuck me that good.” you tease.
he huffs, rolling his eyes. “i fuck you that good every goddamn time, n’ don’t you deny it.”
you laugh, nodding. you can’t deny that fact. but, your eyebrows furrow slightly, suddenly thinking back to the previous events.
“did you really fuck me in a gas station bathroom, babe? what if someone walked in?!” you groan, pushing your forehead into his chest, embarrassed.
he chuckles, “locked it the minute we got in here, baby. wouldn’t let anyone see you like that,” he reassures you, gently gripping the side of your head to make you look up at him, “you got that?”
his face is stern now as he looks into your eyes, and those butterflies in your stomach erupt as if it were the first time you ever got them from him. you nod though, gleaming up at him.
“got it.”
he grins, “good. now, let’s get you cleaned up n’ back on the road. back’s killing me even more now n’ that bed’s calling my name.”
you laugh at him, teasing him further. “old man.”
you wouldn’t want it any other way.
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#hugh jackman#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool 3#fake-bleach#my writing#wolverine x reader#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett#logan howlett fanfiction#james howlett#james howlett x reader#hugh jackman x reader#hugh jackman fanfiction#hugh jackman smut#logan howlett smut#wolverine smut#logan howlett x you#old man logan#old man logan x reader#old man logan smut
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sweet neighbour!Suguru who teaches you how to make yourself cum
for weeks now your new neighbour can’t help but notice your little moans which travel through the thin walls between your apartment. almost every night he can hear you play with your sweet little cunt, moaning loudly as you stuff your hole with your fingers
The problem is…
you can never make yourself finish.
after a few weeks of listening in on your frustration and agitation as you rant to yourself aloud , your neighbour can’t help but wonder if he could help you find a solution.
one late night he comes knocking on your door, soon admitting that he can hear everything through the walls. Your face heats up and you’re about to apologise profusely until Suguru makes an offer to help you. The charming smile on his face makes you think ‘what the hell, sure.’
For a second you think it’s stupid until his eyes are locked between your thighs, guiding your fingers in and out of your pussy
“Jus’ like that, god you’re so wet. making a mess everywhere aren’t you?” He purrs, his hair falling past his eyes.
“do you feel it building up?” He asks.
you’re too wrapped up in your own pleasure to respond, barely able to nod. for some reason his advice seems to be working, your new neighbour having some good experience in this…department.
“As you get closer, you want to rub your clit a little bit faster—more, just like that.”
“good girl.” He praises and you whine, your hips lifting slightly.
“Suguru.” His name sounds so saccharine off your tongue, your chest heaving for air.
“I think…”
“You’re going to cum?”
“Uh-huh” you rub your clit faster, the sloppy sound of your cunt filling the room.
“cum for me then, like a good girl.”
The pressure in your lower abdomen snaps and you let out a deep unrestrained moan, your thighs shaking and your toes curling. It takes a few minutes to come down from your high, I mean, you did just make yourself cum for the first time.
with a soft smile, Suguru watches you, ignoring the throbbing bulge in his pants.
“well done, looks like all you needed was a little help.”
#angel writes#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#getou suguru x reader#suguru geto x reader#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jjk imagine#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujustu kaisen#geto smut#geto x reader#geto suguru x reader#jujutsu kaisen suguru#geto suguru smut
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Drunken Words, Sober Thoughts
Logan Howlett x fem!reader
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Warnings: ( MDNI 18+) neighbor!reader,fem reader, Logan’s kinda rude for a lil’ bit, neighbors to frenemies to lovers? Idk, alcohol consumption (nothing 18+ happens while anyone is intoxicated), swearing, i can’t write Wade’s witty dialogue for shit pls bear w me, implied age gap, unprotected sex (wrap it up I beg of you), poking fun at the Kardashians a little, swearing and I think that’s it, but pls lmk if I missed any!
Summary: You have a little too much to drink one night in Wade's living room, resulting in an indirect confession that Logan absolutely hears through the thin drywall of his bedroom. Wade then ditches your usual weekend plans in an attempt at playing cupid - and it may just be the best favor he's ever done for you.
Word Count: 8K (get comfy bitch)
divider credit here and here
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Being Wade Wilson’s best friend and neighbor included two main components:
Watching trash TV and getting drunk every other weekend - usually at the same time - and Wade wasn’t going to let his new roommate's attitude ruin it in the slightest.
“She’s gonna be here any minute and if you don’t pull the stick out of your ass and be nice, I'm going to lock you in your room like a sad, lonely dog.”
Logan only grunted in response, sipping his drink in the doorway and watching him run around the living room to make the place look livable.
He’d only moved in a couple weeks ago and Wade had been trying to introduce you both - inviting you over when he knew Logan had no plans - but every time, he was out the door before you were even opening yours across the hall. He’d try everything he could to avoid meeting new people, fearful that any type of real connection with someone would be ripped out from under him just like it had been many times before.
Wade huffed in satisfaction when he was done moving a few things around, standing in front of Logan with his hands on his hips.
“I mean it, kitty cat. She’s a sweet girl - keep the claws in.”
“Told you to stop callin’ me that.”
“Too bad, so sad, kitty.”
As Logan was considering puncturing three evenly spaced holes in both sides of Wade’s chest, they were both interrupted by a knock on the front door.
You were on the other side, of course, a twelve pack of beer under your arm. You rocked back and forth on your heels while you patiently waited for Wade to let you in. You did kind of hope you’d maybe get to meet his new roommate this time - it was a little odd that he was never there when you were.
He answered the door after a second, placing a hand over his heart dramatically when he saw the beer in your arms.
“For me? Aw, sugar, you shouldn't have,” he sighed as he took the box from your arms, ushering you inside.
“Did I have a choice?” you joked back, kicking off your shoes.
You followed him into the living room only to stop in your tracks.
Logan stood near the couch in his sweatpants, looking like he’d been dragged into the middle of the room to be put on display. He did reluctantly agree to stay for a second and finally let him introduce you so he could sulk back to his bedroom and nurse a bottle of whiskey till he fell asleep.
“Well, there he is,” Wade said in a lackluster tone, “now, he is house trained, but he does bite occasionally - “
“Fuck off.”
His deep voice surprised you a bit, unintentionally raising your eyebrows with your gaze still on him.
“ I'm Logan.”
You nodded politely and introduced yourself, shoving your hands in your pockets nervously. He was tall, definitely a good couple years older than you and incredibly handsome, all of which made your stomach erupt into butterflies.
And Logan did not like the way you were looking at him.
He’d seen it more times than he could count on the faces of every pretty young thing that tried to take him home from the bar, batting their eyelashes at him and laying hands on him like it would be persuasive in any way. It never worked, as his dismissive attitude sent a clear message. He couldn’t be bothered to take any of them up on their offers and wasn’t interested in fulfilling some fantasy they had about being with an older man. He didn’t think much about stuff like that anyway, avoiding any chance of vulnerability and attachment to someone he was sure he’d eventually lose.
And you still had that look on your face.
“Night.”
With that, Logan disappeared down the hallway to his room and shut the door.
“He’s not much of a talker,” Wade assured you, “probably for the best.”
From then on, you’d occasionally see Logan come out of his room while you were over - getting something from the kitchen, doing his laundry, coming and going - and each time you had to feign complete disinterest. Wade had quickly taken notice of how you tried to keep your head down every time Logan entered the room to hide your pink cheeks and - naturally - there was no way for him to be quiet about it.
When Logan came out of the bathroom one time with a towel around his waist and dripping wet hair as you and Wade sat at the kitchen island, your best friend was more than eager to run his mouth.
“Oh, c’mon, don’t do that to her!” he exclaimed, gesturing towards you, “you’re practically dangling meat in front of a starving dog - poor girl.”
You had your face buried in your hands with your elbows on the counter, wishing more than anything that you could sink into the chair and through the floor.
“God, shut up.”
Your voice was muffled by your hands but he still heard you.
“And put a stop to my job as cupid?”
Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning towards his bedroom. He’d seen the way your eyes widened the second he’d opened the door, traveling all the way from his bare shoulders to the trail of hair that dipped under the towel. You’d turned pink almost immediately. It would have been something he’d found cute maybe a couple decades ago, before the very last bit of his naivety had faded away. Now, it was just infuriating to him. He could try to drop every hint on earth that he wasn't interested (which for him, just meant avoiding you completely) and you still looked at him like a lovesick schoolgirl.
This weekend came along like every other, texting Wade back and forth about snack options and finally getting up to shuffle across the hall with a bag of chips.
He answered the door as usual, ushering you in. You plopped yourself down on the couch and kicked your slippers off, clad in sweatpants and a tank top. He sat beside you and you propped your legs up on his lap, snatching the TV remote from the coffee table to flip through channels. You heard what you assumed was Logan’s bedroom door open down the hall, keeping your eyes glued to the TV.
“Peanut! Care to join?” Wade exclaimed as he watched his roommate enter the open kitchen, digging around in the fridge.
You still didn’t tear your gaze from the screen.
“Hell no.”
That wasn’t much of a surprise.
“Your loss!” Wade reached for the pack of beer on the table, offering one that you gladly accepted, “but don’t bother us, keeping up with the kardashians is incredibly important.”
“Uh - huh.”
Logan disappeared again in seconds and Wade shook his head.
You focused back on the TV screen.
“So, how many minutes into the episode do you think one of them is going to start a fight?”
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Hours and many beers later, you were on the floor with your knees to your chest between the couch and coffee table as you tried to stifle your giggling. Wade was laid on the couch, no better off than you.
“Hey - hey, I wanna ask you somethin’,” his voice became a little serious, but he still had a shit eating grin on his face, “what are you into Logan for anyway?”
You dreaded the question, groaning and closing your eyes.
“Seriously! I mean, I’ve been here the entire time - “
“Wade.”
He looked at you expectantly, awaiting a response.
You contemplated your answer for a moment, your filter diminishing more and more with every sip of beer, “God, I don’t know, he’s - he’s jus’ big.”
You were snickering behind the beer bottle you drunkenly held in front of your face in an attempt to hide.
“I don’t think he’s that impressive. You know, he’s got small feet - tiny, like a child.”
That had you both doubled over, trying to muffle your laughs with your hands and the throw pillows strewn on the floor.
“Stop, stop - ” you choked out when you finally caught your breath, wacking him on the arm.
“Okay but really, what is it? I know you, you’re not into beefcakes,” he laughed and shook his head.
You sighed, not really thinking for even a second before you started speaking again.
“He’s older and he’s hot -”
“And completely cold and dismissive towards you.”
You rolled your eyes at his interruption but still nodded, “yeah - yes, but that’s not my point.”
Wade took another sip of his beer and motioned for you to continue talking.
“He, uh - ” you tried to bite down a giggle, your face turning pink, “I don’t know, I think he’d be good in bed.”
That made him sit forward on the couch, his mouth open in surprise, “I knew it! I knew you were a horny freak!”
“Am not!” you picked a pillow up from the floor and launched it at his face, “I’m allowed to be, anyway!”
“Whatever,” he caught the pillow in his hands, “I'm on operation ‘Cupid’ and I have never quit a mission, cupcake. So, what about him makes you think that? Is it because he's a hundred and eighty - something years older than you? He’s probably been passed around the block like a wh - “
“Okay,” you cut him off, cringing at the thought, “ I think I got the picture.”
Your mind began to wander again about Logan and you narrowed your eyes in thought, staring at nothing.
“What’cha thinkin’, honey bun?”
Wade's voice cut through your concentration and you shrugged, a smile creeping onto your face.
“Oh no,” he started, stretching the vowel, “you’re having a sex fantasy right now, I can see it on your face - disgusting. Tell me more.”
“What, you want details?” You laughed, giving up on trying to hide it if Wade could already read you like an open book. You were both terribly honest with each other - almost to a fault.
“Not the full middle-aged-white-women erotica novel version,” he answered, “I can accept cliff notes.”
You thought for a moment, going down the mental list you’d made of all the assumptions you had about the older roommate that you rarely ever saw.
“He’s gotta have a huge dick. Like, massive.”
Wade nearly spit out his beer but nodded for you to continue.
“I’d let him, like - like,” you were giggling between words as you tried to form a sentence, “ fuckin’ rearrange my guts.”
That did make Wade spit his beer, which set off a train of uncontrollable laughter that you both tried to stifle.
Still, throw pillows and hands over your mouths were not as effective as you believed.
Logan’s eyes fluttered open, squinting in the dark. The digital clock on his nightstand read ‘2:24 am’ in red LEDs. He closed his eyes again and tried to drift back to sleep, only to be jolted up by the sound of the two of you laughing obnoxiously from the living room.
“For fuck’s sake,” he mumbled to himself, getting up to walk towards his door so he could tell you both to keep it quiet. As his hand touched the knob, he halted when he heard your voice.
“He’s probably good at eating pussy. He’d be like an animal - “
Logan was stuck in place, his eyes narrowed. Who the hell were you talking about?
“Can we go back to the rearranging guts thing? ‘Cause I have to tell you, sister - he’s made of metal and he’ll really do it.”
That couldn’t be about him. He refused to believe you two were actually talking about him like that in the next room.
“I’d let him,” he could hear you snickering.
“Is this a daddy issues thing? The ‘I can fix him’ maneuver?”
“I didn’t say I wanted to fix him, I said I wanted to fuck him.”
If this was about some guy, Logan should be relieved; thankful that you’d found a new target of infatuation. He should be relieved, but he was gripping the door knob like he was going to break it off.
Wade’s voice broke through his thoughts, “you’re lucky Logan’s not much into relationships, then.”
So you were talking about him.
Your voice echoed in his head, your words cementing themselves into his brain.
On the living room floor, you were chucking pieces of popcorn into Wade's direction, trying to land one in his open mouth.
“Hey,” he started after catching a piece between his teeth and eating it, “if you do end up in Wolvies bed? Pics or it didn’t happen.”
You gasped and nearly chucked your empty bottle at his head, deciding against it when you remembered Logan was asleep in the other room.
Logan was in the other room.
Just as you were about to panic to Wade about Logan overhearing your foul-mouthed and horny drunk rambling, you both heard the click of his door coming unlocked and the creak of the hinges. He appeared at the doorway in a beater and pajama pants, his hair sticking up in every direction. Truthfully, he looked cute.
“Shut the fuck up, both of you. It’s two in the morning.”
Adorable, even.
“Oopsie! Sorry, Peanut. We had very important things to discuss,” Wade replied.
Without another word, Logan shut his door again and you and Wade sat in comfortable silence for a moment.
“Do you think he heard me?” you whispered, grimacing.
“We’ll find out.”
With that, you both decided to call it a night and you returned to the familiar comfort of your apartment.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
The next morning, Wade was up far earlier than his roommate, as usual. He sat on the couch with his feet on the coffee table, turning his head when he heard Logan’s door open.
“Sleeping beauty! So kind of you to bless me with your presence. What’s the occasion?”
“Breakfast.”
“Technically it would be lunch, peanut.”
Logan was facing the pantry in the kitchen and Wade could still feel the anger radiating off him.
Ignoring his seething silence, Wade began to speak again, “you didn’t happen to overhear any conversations last night, did you?”
Logan was facing him again, pouring cereal into a bowl and speaking without looking away from it, “you mean the one where your little friend said she wanted to fuck me? Yeah, I heard enough of it to get the jist.”
Wade had a gleeful look plastered on his face as he turned in his seat, “so you’re gonna take her up on the offer, right?”
“That wasn’t an offer, and besides,” Logan was shoveling cereal into his mouth, “ ‘m not interested.”
“See, you say that, Peanut, and yet you just have to come out here at least once while she’s over.”
Logan was glaring daggers into his skull.
“I live here.”
The younger of the two clicked his tongue, turning his attention to the TV screen, “All I'm saying is that she’s our neighbor, she's a sweetheart, she is single and has a job and an apartment all to herself, dude. Bone city.”
“Ew.”
“Think about it.” “Don’t need to.”
As Logan scarfed down the rest of his breakfast and put the bowl in the sink, Wade was already typing furiously in his messages to create a plan.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Another week rolled by, meaning it was time to get hammered and make fun of the Kardashians again. You held your breath waiting for Wade to answer the door, anxiously picking at your fingernails.
He opened the door and ushered you in like any other time, except he was dressed to go out instead of the usual PJ attire.
“What, are you leaving me for a hot date?” you teased, dropping the snacks you brought onto the kitchen island.
“Yes!”
You furrowed your eyebrows and frowned, awaiting his explanation.
“I’ve got a date with Vanessa, but - “
Logan emerged from his room, navigating his way to the kitchen as if neither of you were there.
“Peanut! So glad you decided to join us! Hey - “ Wade tapped the kitchen island, motioning for him to come over so he could talk to you both at the same time.
“Okay - I have a date with Vanessa tonight, so I need you,” he motioned between the two of you, “to get along.”
You were about to interrupt, insist that you can just reschedule, but it was as if he’d read your mind.
“You’re already here, cupcake, just stay and chill out. And you - “ he turned completely towards Logan, “you’re going to be nice like I asked you. Do you think you’ll survive?”
Logan was staring at him, unblinking with a scowl on his face.
“You, uh, you don’t have to sit with me,” you mumbled to him, forcing him to finally acknowledge your presence.
He’d half expected it to be your idea as much as it was Wade’s - some kind of ploy to get him alone - but you weren’t jumping at the chance, trying to be touchy-feely with him, begging him to stay.
He almost wished you would.
He cleared his throat and looked back to Wade, “I'm not gonna babysit your friend.”
“Who said I needed a babysitter?” you chimed in.
They both turned to you to watch you slam the top of a beer bottle on the edge of the countertop, sending the metal top flying somewhere into the living room.
“We have a bottle opener in the drawer,” Wade sighed in defeat, ”anyway - you don’t need to babysit her, I'm just saying she doesn’t bite and It would be uncool to leave her all alone.”
“Aren’t you the one leaving?” you asked, taking a sip of your beer.
“Not the point,” he answered, grabbing his jacket from the coat stand as he walked towards the front door, “play nice, don’t eat anything in the fridge with my name on it and there’s condoms in my nightstand!”
He opened and shut the door, leaving the both of you in awkward silence. Logan’s face was actually red, a mix between rage and mild embarrassment.
“He’s a dick,” you muttered, trying to make some kind of small talk, only to be met again with silence. You sighed, going to the couch and picking up the remote. You finally made yourself look Logan in the eyes, your cheeks burning uncontrollably when he never broke his stare.
“Listen - it’s fine, I get it, you’re like…the lone wolf,” you laughed a little to yourself, having to divert your eyes to the fabric of the couch, “I’m not gonna burst into tears if you don’t sit with me.”
He was a little taken back by your bluntness, though it was refreshing. He figured you’d be pink in the face - practically begging him to stay - but you weren’t. You pretended you couldn’t give less of a shit with your eyes now glued to the TV. You were as cool as you could act on the outside, but you nearly lost that cool when he spoke again.
“I can sit for a bit,” he shuffled over to the couch, settling himself down next to you. If you weren’t gonna be all over him like he thought you would, he could withstand a couple episodes of whatever the hell you and Wade had been watching. He didn’t dislike you, really - just terrified of the possibility of intimacy. You were pretty, and from what he’d overheard now and then, you were funny too. He liked the way the smell of your body wash and perfume flooded the apartment whenever you’d stop by and how you’d always bring some leftovers to be sure both of them had eaten - leftovers of which the roommates would always get into a spat over - usually because Logan ate it all before Wade could even see what was in the container.
Unfortunately for Logan, he began to enjoy you being around.
You could feel your stomach tie itself in knots when he sat beside you but nodded in acknowledgment, flipping through TV channels. You settled on the Kardashians again, tossing the remote on the table.
“This is the shit you guys watch, huh?” he teased, grabbing a beer from the pack Wade left behind.
You smiled a little to yourself, noticing how he was slowly getting more comfortable with you, “mhm, top tier - wait till you see one of them talk, it’s like watching an alien.”
You actually pulled a miniscule of a laugh out of him and your heart nearly skipped a beat at the sound.
As the show went on and you both made snarky commentary at just about everything, you felt more and more like you were just hanging out with Wade - comfortable and casual, except for the way your face burned up every time he stretched and his white beater rode up his stomach.
“So,” you began as the episode ended, “thoughts? Opinions?”
He was looking between you and the screen, thinking hard, “I don’t get it.”
You shrugged, “me neither, to be honest, but god is it funny to watch rich people lose their shit sometimes.”
He chuckled again at your response, placing his empty bottle on the table next to yours.
It was silent for a moment, the air tense with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint.
“What do you usually watch on TV?” you asked, intending to flip the channel to whatever he may be interested in - if he had to sit through Keeping Up with The Kardashians, it was only fair.
“Nothin’, really,” he answered, his eyes moving from the screen to rest on you, like a heavy weight on your chest.
“Do you even watch TV?” you asked, the both of you having abandoned the idea of trying to find something else to watch and just letting it play in the background.
“Nah,” he shrugged, his arms crossed against his chest, “ I don’t do much of anything.’
You could tell his answer was earnest and you frowned a bit, swinging your legs up on the couch and turning to face him completely, “nothing? There has to be something.”
He was unsure about how close you were to him now, your knees to your chest as you looked at him expectantly. He thought he’d be met with that look - the one you kept giving him in passing that he hated so much - but your face was neutral, waiting patiently for him to respond. Truthfully, he didn’t hate the look itself - or you, for that matter - but hated how it made him feel.
As if there were some sliver of hope for a future worth living through.
He cleared his throat, turning his body towards you on the couch, “I work out, sometimes - “
‘’Yeah, clearly’’, you wanted to say.
“Other than that,” he continued, “I don’t know, the bar - sometimes I'll let Wade drag me out somewhere but I usually leave after half an hour.”
“Huh, so you really are by yourself a lot,” you realized aloud.
Logan never thought it sad until he heard it from your mouth.
“I like it that way, most of the time,” he shrugged.
“I can tell - took you two weeks to finally say hello. I think this is the most I've ever heard your voice, actually.”
He realized you were right and did feel a little bad, “I’m sorry about that, by the way. I just don’t like meeting new people.”
“Me neither.”
It was silent then - save for the TV - either one of you waiting for the other to explain just why that is. You figured it would be easier if you went first.
“I never really had a lot of friends growing up. I had a hard time in school and a lot of the other kids didn’t like me. It was just tough to make friends, especially because - “
You stopped, thinking over what details to include and what to leave out.
“Because?” Logan prompted and you sighed, biting back a giggle.
“Because I was goth. I don’t mean I just dressed in black - I mean I wore white face paint and huge boots and ate lunch in the art room.”
That actually pulled a real fucking laugh out of him and you couldn’t help but mirror his smile.
“I’m not laughing ‘cause you were goth, that's not weird” he clarified, “I'm laughing because I just can’t picture it.”
You didn’t embrace the style as much as you used to, trading Siouxsie Sioux makeup for reading glasses and teased hair for your natural texture.
“I’ll bring over my highschool yearbook sometime,” you chuckled, shaking your head.
Realizing it was now his turn to speak, he readjusted himself in his seat and cleared his throat, visibly becoming a little uncomfortable.
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, you know,” you reminded him gently, giving a soft smile.
It only made it harder for Logan that you were so damn nice.
He tentatively explained the timelines, the different versions everyone has of themselves, how he’d gotten there. You hung on his every word, unintentionally giving him a sympathetic look when he had finished explaining.
“So…you were just alone after all that?” your voice was soft, worry clear in your tone.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “yeah, yeah.. ‘till I met Wade, obviously.”
You gave him a small smile, “you’ll never be alone again, you know.”
For some reason, the unfamiliar comfort made his stomach turn and he simply shook his head, “Yeah, I'm never gonna be able to get rid of him.”
That made you giggle, nodding in agreement.
“You can try, but he will always find you - like a determined cockroach.”
That got the both of you and you’d never seen Logan smile that way - though, to be fair, you never saw much of his face anyway.
The version of you that sat on the couch across from him was far from who he thought you were. He felt guilty now for assuming things just from looking at you, but it was a habit he had yet to shake. It was clear you were beautiful - that was never a question - but talking with you made him realize just how much he may have missed out by keeping himself so closed off. You laughed at almost every joke he had made, comforted him when he was nothing but rude and always checked up on him and Wade. You smelled so nice, your hair looked so soft and he almost found himself wanting to reach over and run his fingers through it. In his eyes, you seemed to be everything he was not; all of the best qualities he believed he didn't possess.
“Oh, hey - do you want some popcorn? I brought the microwave kind, I keep telling Wade to get it himself and he never does,” you snapped him out of his trance and stood from the couch, already walking to the kitchen.
“Uh, sure,” he found himself getting up to follow you, not wanting to pause a moment of conversation.
You tossed the bag in the microwave and hit the button, leaning yourself against the counter. Logan leaned himself besides you, significantly taller. You’d held your composure so far, but having him so close and realizing just how much bigger he was made your heart beat like a rabbit’s.
“So, you never asked about the mutant thing,” He spoke over the popping, looking down at you and waiting for the twenty questions.
You only shrugged, “I figured If you wanted to tell me, you’d tell me. I wasn’t gonna interrogate you about it. Plus, Wade told me.”
“Of course he did,” Logan scoffed, “I’m afraid to know what exactly it was that he told you.”
“You’ve got adamantium instead of bones,” you replied matter of factly, “and you’ve got claws. I mean, I’ve never seen them, but that's what he told me.”
He thought for a minute, stepping in front of you a little. He was about arm-length away, putting enough distance between you both that he was sure he wouldn’t accidentally knick you.
In a second, the adamantium claws protruded from between his knuckles, glistening in the kitchen light. You flinched for only a second, leaning in to inspect them.
“Woah,” you muttered, bringing a finger up to the very end of one of them and letting it poke you, “cool.”
He was a bit confused by your calm demeanor, but relieved by it anyway. It was never a good time when someone had a bad reaction to the claws. The microwave beeped and he retracted them, stepping out of your way. You opened it and held the scolding bag with two fingers, realizing you needed a bowl to put it in.
“Logan, can you grab a-”
You felt one hand on your hip and could see his other reach above you, opening a cabinet you couldn't and handing you a bowl. Your back was almost flush to his chest, making you feel warm all over. He reluctantly pulled away from you and you cleared your throat, shaking the popcorn into the bowl.
He watched you from where you stood, taking in the curve of your waist and hips and realizing he was in much more trouble than he’d originally thought. He’d heard your drunken giggling about him - heard you vulgarly talk about how good you think he’d be at giving head - but he was still thinking it over with his bottom lip between his teeth. He finally broke the silence that filled the room.
“You know, the claws aren’t the only thing abnormal about me.”
“Mm, no?” you laughed a little with your back still turned to him. You could feel that your face was hot.
“Heightened senses,” he said simply, “hearing and smell, mostly.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Like right now, I can hear your heartbeat.”
Your eyes went wide and you practically froze in place.
“It’s fast.”
His voice was closer.
“Really fast,” his breath was in your ear, his hands coming to rest on your waist, “got even faster when I pointed it out.”
You swallowed hard, knowing very well there was no way to lie to him.
“Jus’ nervous sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything,” you exhaled, attempting to still your shaking hands.
“Mhm,” he hummed, his deep voice reverberating through your chest because of his proximity, “what about the other night, though?”
You narrowed your eyes and turned to finally face him, nearly chest to chest.
“What are you talking about?”
You knew exactly what he was talking about - you just hoped it wasn’t what you thought.
His hands were on the counter behind you, boxing you in.
“C’mon,” he looked at you expectantly with a shit eating smirk on his face, “what made you think I’d be good at eating pussy, anyway?”
You were red with embarrassment, pulling your hands up to cover your face, but Logan caught your wrists gently and clicked his tongue.
“Pretty girl, it’s alright - “
His gruff voice calling you such a sweet nickname nearly made your knees buckle.
“I can smell how wet you get, you know that?”
One of his hands moved to hold you by your throat, barely using any pressure.
“F-Fuck off,” you managed to mutter, stuttering when he pushed one of his thighs inbetween yours. This was nowhere near what you pictured happening when Wade dumped you in his living room with a guy who would barely even look at you.
He chuckled, his other hand pushing on the small of your back to pull you closer into him.
“Yeah? I don’t think you really want me to, sweetheart. Besides, you didn’t answer my question.”
You could barely think, nevermind answer whatever it was he had asked. You were almost nose to nose, Logan craning his neck down a bit to level his face with yours.
“I, um,” your breathing was shaky, “fuck, I don’t know - I jus’ think about it a lot.”
“Me too,” he admitted before crashing his lips to yours, tangling his fingers in the hair at the back of your head. It was truthful - he’d probably thought of you every day since the night he heard you talk about him like that.
You couldn’t help moaning into his mouth when he kissed you, letting him slip his tongue past your lips. His hands roamed down your back and to your ass, using his grip to rock your hips over his thigh.
“So beautiful,” he whispered as he moved down your jaw and neck, kissing and biting at the soft skin, “drove me crazy, hearing you say those things.”
“How much - how much did you hear?” you tried to ask, overwhelmed by his teeth grazing your neck. Your hands rested against his chest - as if you were going to push him away - but you never did.
You felt his lips curve into a smile against your skin, “heard enough.”
“And what exactly was that?”
If he was going to tease, you might as well bite back.
He pulled away momentarily to look in your eyes, knowing damn well he already had you where he wanted you.
“You don’t want to fix me, you want to fuck me, right?”
Your own words sounded so much hotter coming out of his mouth.
“Mhm,” was all you could manage to get out, too focused on the feeling of him pushing and pulling your hips over his thigh.
“Huh? Use your words, sweetheart.”
There was something about the affectionate nicknames he was using in contrast to the filthy way he was trying to push you down even harder on his thigh that made you lightheaded.
“Yeah - yes, I want to,” you practically whined.
That was all the confirmation he needed to hoist you up onto the counter with his hands on your ass. He was kissing you hungrily, his fingers hooking around the straps of your tank top to let them fall down your shoulders. You didn’t waste any time in breaking the kiss momentarily to strip yourself of the garment, tossing it to the kitchen floor.
“Fuck, jesus christ,” He groaned at the sight of your bare chest and immediately brought his large hands up to massage your breasts. A chill went down your spine when he leaned down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue. Your hands were threaded through his hair, tugging every so slightly when he would pull his mouth off you with a popping sound. The majority of your chest was glistening with his spit when he finally brought his mouth to yours again, leaving a clear coating over the developing hickies that he left. You tugged at the hem of Logan's white beater to signal that you wanted it off. He did as you pleased, leaving plenty of skin for you to run your hands over.
“Been thinking of you, all spread out of me,” he murmured in between kisses. He used his grip on your ass to grind you against him, his hard cock pressing against you. The pressure from it was enough for your pussy to start aching.
“I wanna know what you taste like,” he continued, holding your chin to tilt your head up, “can I find out?”
You nodded frantically and nearly choked on your own spit. You lifted your hips to let him strip you of your pants and underwear, leaving you completely bare on the counter in front of him.
You felt vulnerable, pressing your knees together only to have Logan use his hands to spread them apart.
“Uh-uh,” he clicked his tongue, “let me see your pretty pussy.”
He got on his knees on the kitchen floor, hooking his arms around your thighs and settling his face between them. He nipped at the hot skin of your inner thighs and you inadvertently tugged his hair every time he did so. He finally laid his tongue flat against you and you whined, the sound echoing through the kitchen. He was sloppy, practically drooling into your cunt and using it to lubricate his fingers so he could slip them into you. Your theory from before was proven right; he was kind of animalistic when he ate you out.
He was curling his fingers as he thrusted them in and out, sucking on your clit at the same time. You gasped when he spoke with his mouth still buried in your cunt.
“Tastes so fucking good.”
Your ankles were locked to keep his head between your thighs, leaning yourself back against the wall.
“Jesus christ, Logan - “ you whined, cut off when he growled into you.
“Mhm, ‘feels good, baby?”
You only nodded, unable to communicate with how deep he was curling his fingers into you. He continued to mumble praises against your cunt, amused by how much it clearly spurred you on.
“This is all mine, huh? Know you wanted it, could smell how bad you needed me every time you were over.”
You could feel the pressure in your lower stomach start to build.
“You’re so wet for me, such a good girl - makin’ such a fucking mess.”
It wasn’t long before you were pulling him back by his hair.
He reluctantly detached himself, looking up at you with concern. His mouth and chin were wet, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips.
“What’s wrong? You okay?”
“ ‘m fine, just - I was close -”
He groaned in a way that almost sounded annoyed, diving his tongue back into you, “C’mon, do it, then - come for me, pretty girl.”
His praise was enough to trigger your orgasm and you couldn’t help rocking your hips against his face as you rode it out. You were cursing, tears starting to form in your eyes when he didn’t let up.
“L-Logan, fuck,” you cried. You could’ve pulled him off, told him it was too much, but he was so determined and skilled in the way he flicked his tongue that the discomfort of overstimulation dissipated into pleasure within seconds.
“One more for me, baby, one more. Think you can?”
You were moaning so loud at that point that you tried to bring a hand to your mouth to muffle the sound but Logan caught your wrist and brought it back to his hair, encouraging you to keep tugging and pulling.
Your second orgasms approached hard and fast, tears rolling down your cheek. Your legs shook uncontrollably as he finally sat back on his heels.
When you caught your breath, he pulled himself up to slide his arms around your lower back and plant a kiss on your forehead, wiping your wet cheeks.
“Can I take you to the bed?”
You nodded and smiled wide, leaning up to kiss him.
He effortlessly carried you through the hallway and into his bedroom, your bare chest pressed against his. The second your back hit his mattress, his cellphone started to ring from his bedside table.
You watched Logan furrow his eyebrows and reach for the phone. He read the caller ID and bore an amused smile, switching it to silent.
“What’s so funny?” you asked, wrapping your arms around him when he came to hover above you.
“It’s Wade,” he chuckled to himself, “probably calling to see if everythings alright.”
That made you giggle, “yeah, we can tell him we’re doing just fine.”
“I’ll call him later.”
His lips were on yours again, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against you as he pinned you to the bed with his hips. You slid your hands from his neck, down his back and around the front of his waist to rest on his belt buckle. Your fingers made quick work of the metal fastener and you tugged the leather from his jeans. He stood up off the bed for a moment to strip himself of the rest of his clothing. When his cock sprung up from his boxers and hit his stomach, you almost had to choke back a gasp. Again, you were proven right - he was huge. He crawled back between your legs and positioned himself on top of you.
“You’re okay with this?”
If anyone told you maybe two hours earlier that you’d end up under Wade’s grumpy roommate, your chest heaving from the anticipation of finally having him slot into you, you would’ve called them crazy. Now, however, it was a reality - one you would’ve gladly spent the rest of your life in.
You realized he was holding back, gripping the sheets next to your head and waiting for a definite answer.
You nodded and scratched at the back of his neck affectionately. He guided himself into you and you groaned at the feeling of his tip alone.
“ ‘s okay?”
Logan was practically slurring his words with how hard he had to hold himself back. Your warm chest to his, your thighs locked around his waist, the way you smelled; it was all overwhelming in the best way possible.
“So good,” you whined, trying to push your hips up to encourage him to go even deeper, “want all of it, please, please.”
He was chewing on his lip when he finally let himself fill you completely in one thrust. You dug your fingernails into his back, leaving scratches that healed themselves within seconds. He let out a guttural moan with his face buried in your neck, concentrating on trying to build a steady rhythm without finishing things too fast. He propped himself up on his elbows on either side of you as he tentatively rocked in and out.
“So fucking pretty,” he huffed, a hand coming up to wipe the sweat dampened hair from your flushed face. It was so sweet, so intimate; nothing you’d ever really expected with or from him.
“You're handsome,” you managed to reply, amused by how taken back he seemed by the compliment, “perfect.”
He couldn’t remember the last time someone called him that - handsome, definitely never perfect - while actually looking at him like they meant it. Your eyes were trained on the features of his face, attempting to memorize every line and wrinkle; every bit of him that made him Logan. Your eyes felt to him like they could burn right through the wall he’d managed to construct.
Still, he instinctively scoffed as he hovered over you. He was never good at accepting compliments.
“I’m not the lying type, you know,” you assured him, whispering in his ear as he continued at a steady pace, “besides, do you think I'd be under you right now if that wasn’t true?”
“Mm - shut up”, he fought a smile and increased his pace in the hopes that it would render you speechless.
It did, of course.
You were a moaning mess atop his sheets with your back arched to accommodate Logan’s arm sneaking around you. His pace was enough to rock his headboard into the wall and he was thankful it was your apartment on the other side instead of a stranger’s. You were chest to chest as he whispered filthy things into your ear.
“Takin’ it well like I knew you would, baby doll - knew you’d like it when I fucked you like this.”
You were still at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the pressure in your lower stomach.
“You think you’ve got another one in you? C’mon, sweet girl, let me see it.”
His coaxing had your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head as he pounded into you. Besides the grunts and moans between you two, the only sound echoing in the room was the slap of skin against skin and the squelching of your pussy as he dragged himself out and back in again.
You were almost drooling from how deep he was able to fuck you. The familiar fire in your stomach had you feeling warm all over, building and building itself up. As if he could read your mind, Logan’s hand reached down between the both of you and he started to trace tight circles around your swollen clit.
“F-Fuck, my god, Logan - “
He hummed affirmatively, almost as if to acknowledge that was indeed his name that you were chanting.
You squeezed your eyes shut so hard that you almost saw stars when your third orgasm hit hard and fast. You were probably loud enough for the entire building to hear as he worked you through it.
“Good girl, good girl - c’mere,” he praised, flipping you over so that you were on your hands and knees. You laid your chest as flat as you could against the mattress and arched your back. He didn’t hesitate in fitting himself snuggly inside of you again, his hands kneading at and smacking your ass as he used his grip to push and pull you. It wasn’t long before his thrusts started to become sloppy. He leaned down and hooked an arm around you, lifting you up a little so that his chest was pressed to your back. He moved his hand to your throat to tilt back your head. The way you looked back at him, your beautiful eyes boring into his soul - that was all he needed to finally let go. You felt him flood you with his come, a mixture of yours and his soaking the sheets underneath you. He gently pulled out and almost immediately pulled you against him to cuddle, his eyes already fluttering close. You didn’t take him for the cuddly type but it was just another wholesome thing you’d learned about him.
“You should call Wade back,” you mumbled, already drifting to sleep with your head on Logan’s chest.
“ ‘m busy, I’ll do it tomorrow.”
You chuckled to yourself, letting exhaustion overtake you.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Wade practically sprinted up the steps to his apartment the next morning, keys already in hand. If Logan hadn’t answered - even if it was just to tell him to fuck off - something really bad must’ve happened. You hadn't answered any of his fifteen texts, either.
He unlocked his door and prepared himself to be met with a gorey scene, only to be surprised that there was no sign of a scuffle. There was untouched popcorn in the kitchen, clearly abandoned at some point right after making it. Did Logan upset you enough last night to make you leave early?
Of course, he’d completely missed your clothing that had been tossed just out of sight from where he was standing.
Wade sighed in frustration, striding through the hallway and stopping outside Logan’s bedroom. He banged his fist on the door and rested his hands on his hips as he spoke through the wood.
“Hey! Peanut! Did you make our guest leave early last night? How’d it go? You didn’t answer your phone and neither did she.”
On the other side of the door, your heads both popped up at the sound of wade’s banging. You stifled a laugh, looking to Logan for him to say something.
“Uh, yeah…she had somethin’ to take care of.”
Now you had to bury your face in his comforter, uncontrollably snickering.
Without warning, Wade groaned and swung the door open - one neither of you thought to lock because no one had been home.
“You better get your ass across the hall and apologize for whatever it is that -“
He was met with the sight of the both of you in Logan’s bed, covered by the bedding. It was obvious you were both undressed, Logan’s boxers somewhere near Wade’s feet.
He gasped, looking between the two of you in confusion before a giddy smile appeared on his face.
“Oh, I see, I see. Right, mhm - “
Logan was already trying to shoo him out but Wade wasn’t going to let him before he got the last word in.
“You're welcome, by the way!”
He shut the door and you laughed.
Logan laid back again, resting his arm around your shoulders so he could pull you back into his chest again.
In the comfortable silence, doubt settled itself in the form of a pit in your stomach. What if this was a one time thing?
Almost instantly, you felt his hand comb through your hair.
“Hey, uh,” he started, looking down into your eyes, “listen, I know I was supposed to ask this before I got you in here, but - um..”
You could feel your stomach turn, borderline terrified of what he was going to say next.
“Would you want to go out for coffee sometime?”
A wide grin spread across your face and you nodded eagerly, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek.
“I’d love that.”
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A/N: this ones long as hell but so is just about everything else I write! if you've made it to the end I loooove u and pls interact if you enjoyed; hearing feedback is what motivates me to keep writing! as always, my inbox is open as well <3
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett fic#logan howlett smut#logan howlett fanfiction#logan wolverine#smut#fanfic#wolverine#wolverine x reader#wolverine fanfiction#wolverine fic#fanfiction
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boyfriend duties // bf! soft! rafe cameron hcs
synopsis : your boyfriend showing his attention on you.
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“the hell are you doing, stupid?”
rafe reaches over and takes a hold of your wrist, pulling you over towards the inner side of the sidewalk, making you stumble but balance yourself out and look to him. “what? what’s wrong?” you ask, confusion lacing your eyes and he rolls his own as he moves to hold your hand in his.
“Just shut up and stand over here.”
rafe cameron was by no means the perfect boyfriend, but once you two were together, he was always keeping an eye on you, being there for you when you least expected it.
after all, you were his. he didn’t and shouldn’t need to focus on anything or anyone else but you.
“you sure you don’t want the umbrella? it’s gonna rain, baby.” rafe warns and you dismiss him with a wave, rushing off to sarah’s car. “i’ll be fine, babe.”
if only you listened. and now an hour later, at the beach…
“shit, rain?” you bring a hand out to catch a rain droplet on your palm and frown as your friends begin to gather their things. “I thought you checked the weather, [name]!” sarah frowns as she looks up, using her purse as an umbrella and kie huffs. “so much for a beach day.”
“sorry, i thought it wasn’t going to rain.” you murmur and watch as the rainfall starts to pick up, your movements quickening further.
suddenly, you feel a shield above you which blocked the rainfall from pouring on you and look to see an umbrella. “huh?”
“next time you’ll listen to me.” rafe sighs, holding the umbrella between the two of you and you smile sheepishly, seeing your friends becoming soaked in the rain. “but what about them?”
rafe briefly shrugs, not caring. “not my problem. i only brought one for you.” and with that, he guides you over to his car, leaving kie and sarah alone.
you sigh, using a magazine off the table to act as a fan, cooling yourself off as you and rafe sit outside at the country club with some of his friends, relaxing and eating.
unfortunately it was quite hot and you constantly adjust your hair.
rafe notices from the corner of his eye, not saying anything when he sees you start to gather your hair up into a bundle. and when you reach for your wrists, notice the lack of a hair tie, he extends his wrist out to you.
“?” your brows are furrowed when he suddenly holds out his arm and he keeps his eyes down on his phone mindlessly. it was then you noticed a small black band on his wrist and you smile faintly, carefully pulling the hair tie off his wrist and use it to tie your hair up.
and when he sees your lips curling into a bigger smile and your body relaxing at the more cooling hairstyle, he smiles to himself a bit, returning his focus to his phone.
and when you accidentally knock something off the table, sitting on the end, you lean down to pick it up.
rafe, talking with topper, brings his hand down to cover the edge of the table to protect you from hitting your head as you return upright, setting your fallen napkin aside.
you realize what rafe just did and feel your heart fluttering again when he pulls his hand away and down to hold your hand while you shyly pick up your utensil to continue to eat, a soft smile lacing your lips.
all part of his boyfriend duties, because for you, he’s always there.
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a/n : much needed comfort hcs <3 please don’t hesitate to reach out to me for thoughts or such! i’m always happy to talk :)
such an abrupt ending lol i’m in a mind fog.
synvil™️.
#obx x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#obx rafe#obx rafe cameron#outer banks rafe#outerbanks rafe#rafe x reader#outer banks x reader#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe imagine#outerbanks rafe cameron#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron hc#rafe x you#obx blurb#obx headcanon#synvil ˖◛⁺⑅♡
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