#either way that's a kick-ass suit

[indigo-brainspark]

This suit in particular is v reminiscent to the stormranger nanosuit. If other parts of the suit except for the lightning bolt had a bit more shine to it I could totally see it being that

Princess Carol and her entourage

[missglaskin]

“You’re such a perv!” 

Aka DC Superheroes as pervs; Dick, Jason, Tim, Roy, Wally

Please don't put a community label on this (it will only shadow ban it)

Surely your friend and confidant is not some peeping tom right?!

Warnings/tags; SMUT, female reader, vigilante!reader, Perv shenanigans, panty stealing, masturbation, dirty thoughts, corruption kink, invasion of privacy

Dick Grayson has always been your closest friend; he's the leader, the guy that everyone either wants to be like or wants him for themselves. But the boy wonder had his eyes on you, his oblivious friend. He has always been there, aiding you in missions; always saving the day, or praising you for a job well done. So how could you ever possibly know of his intense desire just for you. Dick knows his actions are downright disgusting, that small voice inside his head filling him with guilt, but his desire is just stronger. 

Missions with you are the worst. Watching you be so confident and just kick ass has him feeling all sorts of ways. Trying to turn away from your line of sight so you won't see his hard-on, his cock rubbing uncomfortably against his suit. Dick will use any excuse to get away, jerking off on the side of a rooftop, a hand against a wall and another stroking his cock, while he imagines it was your hand instead, and that alone pushes him over the edge. 

He'll find a way to make you want him too, Dick knows you're not immune to his charms. Will it be too obvious that when he goes for a hug, it's a little too tight. Is it when he places a hand on your waist pretending to keep you in place, daring his fingers to go further down. Will you push away the hands that place themselves on your thighs to pretend he's comforting you. You won't. Just as you refuse to shove away the fingers that inch closer and closer between your legs. Is it really so bad if you want him too.

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

Jason Todd knows he's a sick fuck. What kind of friend is he to even think of such things. But they are just thoughts, right? As long as he doesn't do anything creepy that is. Surely anyone dreams of fucking their best friend-that is, imagining your lips wrapped around his dick while he fists your hair, forcing you to take all of him. The guilt returns when your voice reaches him, asking him if he heard you, interrupting his brief moment of fantasy. He's relieved that the mask doesn't allow you to see how intensely he's staring at you.

It becomes a line he knows he crossed. When Jason found himself staring at your apartment window - he didn't intend to, he was just patrolling and happened to come across your apartment. Knowing you were safe and well should have been his reason to leave, until you started undressing. Seeing your tits exposed made the blood rush to his cock and when you bent slightly to remove your panties, Jason was sure he could have come right on the spot. 

You went to take a shower as Jason entered your apartment. Surely you must know to keep your window locked. Finding himself creeping toward the bathroom as if you were beckoning him in, instead, he stopped and stood over the disregarded clothes; reaching for the panties. Jason would have beaten anyone to a bloody pulp if they had done that, but it was his own reflection staring at him. He is a sick fuck, he thinks as his finger brushes over the damp spot and how he shoves it into his pockets. He's not sure if he should return your panties later, given that he eagerly rubbed his cock with it, leaving it cum stained.

-----------

Tim Drake is a wolf in sheep's clothing; he is the one person you never suspect of thinking such perverted thoughts. Tim is aware he can never justify the things he's doing. He just tells himself that he merely lacks the courage to approach you, not that it's a good reason, but it's enough for him to maintain that tiny sliver of morality. There are moments when he wishes he could just concentrate on his patrolling to keep you off his mind, but you are always there, at the back of his mind. 

Tim realizes he just can't get off without thinking about you. Tim tries watching some porn, but he keeps imagining your face instead of the actress, and he hates how it helped him reach his orgasm. Or in the mornings, when his boner is becoming too much of an issue and he's in the shower trying to rid of it. His thoughts wander to picturing you in front of him, bare and wet, with your back against the glass walls and you moaning his name. 

If there was ever a time that Tim was made known that he was really sick was that day. Him laying in bed stroking his cock and seeing the phone ringing in the corner. It's you. He ought to have just let it ring or decline, but Tim didn't know what possessed him to answer the call. Your voice is heard as he bites his lip to not let his whimpers be heard, tasting copper on his tongue. Tim moves the phone further away when he reaches his high, cum covering his hands and stomach as he continues the conversation, hoping you don't hear his ragged breath.

-----------

Roy Harper was the one person you could always confide in. He had a way of cheering you up, your tears dried as your laugh echoed throughout the room. How you consider him to be your closest friend and best partner in crime as you speak to him, while Roy thinks of how the low cut of your shirt gives him a good view of your tits from an angle. When you call his name to get his attention, Roy gives you that smile of his as he uses an excuse to use the restroom. 

Roy loves taking pictures of you. You knew Roy had them, just never imagined he would have them in his sights while he jerked off. Pictures of you with a skirt had Roy fantasize about wearing em while he's railing you from behind. Your face pressed against the pillow while you bubble nonsense, too drunk on his cock. Pictures of you looking up, had him fantasizing of you staring at him with those eyes of yours as you use your mouth, bobbing up and down on his dick.

Unaware too Roy had 'private' photos, all thanks to a few hacking tricks. Roy was occasionally tempted to send you a nude photo of himself, see how you react, and cover it up by saying it was a 'mistake'. Would you perhaps return one or get jealous wondering who it was intended for. Roy gets up, cleaning himself as he’s planning to you meet you later that day. He eyes the slightly crooked tile above his ceiling, storing all the belongings he's taken from his visits to your place. Roy thinks when the two of you are official, he should hide it in a better place.

—-----------

Wally West had plenty of opportunities to hint at his feelings toward you. He liked making flirtatious comments, complaining when he wasn't paired with you during missions, and placing an arm over your shoulders. But you just assume it's Wally's typical self, not noticing his hurt look when you claimed to be "just friends". Then again you never noticed his hurried departure and quick return, where he avoided making eye contact at all costs.

Wally feels the guilt the most. He could have just confessed to you like a normal person. Guilt consumes him when he sees your gullible smile, unaware of the horrible things he did behind your back. It's not his fault really; he was invited to your place and was simply looking around until he found a certain drawer. Wally reassures himself it's not that bad if he only takes one. But it gets to a point where you're complaining to Wally about how your clothes disappear (not telling him which kind).

A point comes where Wally reaches his breaking point. The sneaky pictures, lying on your bed when you weren't around, face in the pillows to inhale your scent could do so little. As he stares at you speaking, Wally makes a move expecting to be rejected, but you kiss him back. He was in heaven, the dreams he had in every waking point coming true. He was where he wanted you to be, on top with you full of his cock, your eyes nearly blacked out as he slams his hips repeatedly into yours. Can you blame him for moving too fast when he has been holding back for so long. 

[buryustogether]

songbird

the ghoul x f!reader

summary: you used to be a singer in your vault - that skill comes in handy when you least expect it, and least want to use it. but who are you to say no when cooper tells you to sing for him?

wc: 5.7k

warnings: swearing, talk of murder, blood, alcohol, gun violence, sexual tension, smut, fingering, p in v sex, biting, possessive sex, possessive cooper

You had to admit - if you and your companion didn't find shelter soon, one of you was going to drop and the other wouldn't hesitate to feast on what was left.

The deserts of the Wasteland were harsh - you had known that the moment you stepped out of your vault those months ago and you had been faced with nothing but a searing sun, sand that got stuck places it shouldn't have, and creatures and fellow people alike who would risk it all simply for a quick grab at the pack on your back. But it seemed like this past week, God or Satan or whoever the fuck was controlling this shitshow of a world was in a bad mood. The heat was unbearable, even at night when the chilly winds should have weaseled their way beneath your vault suit and cooled your burning skin. Creatures mutated by the long-settled radiation were feeling the anger of the wasteland, as well, charging without warning or provocation. To top off a less than perfect week, your water supply had run out yesterday, and unless the skies opened up and released a storm of rad-infested hail upon your head, you weren't sure you would find any more before you keeled over and kicked it.

Struggling to plant your feet stable in the mounds of sand beneath you as you made your way between the shells of buildings that had once stood tall and proud, you glanced over your shoulder at your companion. Cooper was better adapted for this kind of environment than you were, what with his hardened skin and the wide brim of his hat shielding his face, but even he looked worse for wear. When he picked up his head, seeming to feel your eyes on him, you quickly averted your gaze and set your attention back on moving one foot in front of the other.

"Fuck're you lookin' at?" he said, his voice raspy as he called out through the dry air.

"Nothing," you snipped back, refusing to give him the satisfaction of facing him again. "Just wondering if I'm going to have to carry you the rest of the way, asshole."

The heat was making you both snappy - you hated it.

Your first meeting with Cooper hadn't gone smoothly. Hell, your second or third hadn't, either. You weren't exactly sure when you had fallen into a more comfortable presence around one another, but it sure as shit hadn't happened overnight. You'd been only half a day fresh from your vault when you'd seen him scavenging madly over a mess of bodies he'd dropped where they stood, searching for a number of vials kept in their pockets that he let drip into his open mouth like a fountain of youth. When you had called out a friendly hello to him, he'd nearly shot your brains out. Cooper had taken in your shocked expression - as you'd clearly never seen a ghoul before - as well as the stark blue of your vault suit and the pack over your shoulders, then promptly told you to scoot your ass back around to wherever the hell you had come from. Of course, you hadn't. You'd followed him from a distance, watching as he'd picked his way across the dusty sands until he'd wrangled you with the lasso at his hip, told you to fuck right off, and left you tied to a number of old pipes in the basement of a nearly collapsed building.

A day later, you'd tracked his footprints in the sand to a little settlement, where you hadn't ducked away quick enough to avoid his gaze. He'd threatened to blow your brains out if he caught you following him again. He'd only half-delivered on that promise when, not ten hours later, he'd planted a fist-sized hole in the skull of a raider attempting to cut your throat for the Pip-Boy affixed to your wrist.

From then on, he'd simply chosen to ignore you as you followed behind him like a lost dog, intent on staying with the biggest, baddest wolf in the yard. After a week, he'd tossed you a part of his rations. A week after that, he'd - not too gently - invited you to sit at the campfire with him when he saw you shivering beneath your thin, vault-issued blanket a good few yards away.

Somewhere along the way you'd started to talk. Started to share - at least, you had. Cooper had simply tucked his hat over his eyes and pretended not to listen while you rattled about this and that until he physically couldn't take it anymore and told you to go the fuck to sleep.

These months later, having accompanied him all this time, you didn't hesitate to call him a friend. Maybe something more, if you let the ache between your legs when you looked at him speak for you, but you knew it was a fantasy and nothing more, so you decided to stick with 'friend.'

Back in the present, you swallowed and winced when your throat barked with a bout of pain in response. You didn't think you'd make it another mile, let alone five, which was how far Cooper claimed the nearest town was. Despite the months you'd spent adapting out here to the wastelands, you were still attempting to cope with the hardships that came with it. Vault life wasn't anything like this; there was always water to drink, beds to sleep in. Cool air to bask in when it got just the slightest bit too hot. Of course, you didn't voice these complains to your companion. If you did, you had no doubt he'd tell you to shut the fuck up and deal with it.

Just as you were about to ask if you could take a short break and get away from the harsh sun beating on your back like repeated blows from a red-hot hammer, a gloved hand wrapped around your arm and held you in place. You jerked to a stop, nearly falling back on your ass as Cooper held you where you stood. You prepared a strongly-worded question as to just what he was doing before you followed his gaze downward, to where a small handful of pairs of footprints traveled perpendicular to yours. Together, you tilted your heads to the left where the foreign prints were headed, and it was there you found a small slope leading downward into what may have once been a shopping mall. From where you stood, you were able to see that the glass dome around the center of the mall had been shattered, letting out the gentle sound of music and human hollers.

You exchanged a look with Cooper, each of you sunken from the iron-fisted heat weighing you down, then slid down the sandy slope after him when he took off toward the shopping mall.

If there was one thing you had learned about Cooper since planting yourself at his side and refusing to leave, it was that he valued silence above almost everything else. You, on the other hand, had come from a talkative vault, where gossip reached every end of every chamber only an hour - at max - after anything noteworthy had happened. Your companion had once called you the biggest yap he'd ever heard, and you would have taken it for a compliment had he not told you to shove it a moment after. The two of you had been silent nearly the entire day now, save for a few venomous barks at each other, and you cleared your scratchy throat in an attempt to lighten your shitty moods.

"I used to read about shopping malls in the magazines," you said, leaning your weight backwards as the sandy slope shifted downward. "They had all kinds of stores inside."

"Thanks for the reminder," Cooper bit back, quickening his stride. "Would have fuckin' forgot without you here."

You let your eyes roll into the back of your head as you struggled to catch up to him, your boots digging into the uneven earth beneath you. "When I was a kid, a few of my friends and I would draw pictures of clothes - because, you know, we only had our suits - and then spread them across one of our rooms and pretend to shop. It was stupid, but it we made entertainment where we could."

"Now, was this before you started pretending to be Billie Holliday?"

You gave him a sideways glance. "Who's that?"

Cooper shook his head and took off ahead of you. "Jesus fuckin' Christ."

During one of your, as your companion called them, yap sessions, you had confided in him that your vault valued the arts above anything else. Since you were a child, they had encouraged you to find something you enjoyed, as long as you were able to call yourself an artist. Painting hadn't worked out too well. Writing had been a bust. But then you'd discovered singing - a way in which you were able to express yourself without actually saying how you felt. You could drape the tunes in metaphors and similes, bump the second verse from the first, and when you were done, everyone would get to their feet to applaud as if your songs were the best things they'd ever heard. Cooper hadn't expressed much interest in this, instead taking to calling you a songbird with her wings clipped when he deemed you were at your lowest and needed to be kicked while you were down.

Of course, you hadn't shown him - you would have to be long dead for that - but over the course of the few months you'd known him, you had confided in your notebook carried in your pack all the little things you'd come up with that complimented his persona. How the gold at his heels called for you with each step he took. The way his hands, encased behind leather that creaked, held a smoke so delicately you could have imagined it was you. The rasping curl of his words when he smiled while he spoke and how each word cast a spell that made you want to follow him until the sun exploded and the earth was gone.

Cooper was an enigma you couldn't help but wonder after, and every scrap of himself he tossed to you led you on like a dog on a leash.

The music and echoing sound of laughter from deep inside the shopping mall became louder as the pair of you approached, eyes scanning for snipers on the roof or guards posted at the busted-out windows. There wasn't a person in sight, only mannequins stripped of their clothing hanging out the openings and long-shredded posters clinging to broken glass. Cooper led the way inside, picking a path across the wreckage and rubble stacked haphazardly against the entrance. You felt your pulse tick up when he produced his gun from the worn holster at his side, tapping his trigger finger against the side of the firearm in time with the music winding its way down the wide corridors.

As you followed your companion through the shopping mall, you couldn't help but ogle at the numerous attractions you passed. Shops had been boarded up and torn open again, giving you a glimpse of tattered clothes still on hangers, books tipped over on shelves, pre-war machines behind display cases that were covered in two hundred years' worth of dirt and grime. Gang signs and dirty catchphrases had been spraypainted along the walls and windows in a rainbow of colors. In the center of the long aisle you were wandering, a carousel meant for children sat neglected, still fitted with cartoonish horses who had seen better days than these.

"Did you used to come to these often?" you asked as you stepped across a mannequin missing its head.

"Shut the fuck up for a minute." Cooper raised a hand to pair with his little spat, silencing you from asking any further questions. His tongue darted out between his cracked lips as he placed his steps carefully around shattered glass and wind-up toys that would declare your position to the entire mall. He led you around a few wide corners before coming to a stop behind an old escalator, motioning for you to take cover. You crouched to peer around the other side, pulling your bag strap tighter over your shoulder. You were met with a sight that made your lips part in wonder.

Made up in the center of the mall's large atrium, directly beneath where the glass dome had been broken out, a small encampment of people had established what looked like a tiny town. Tents rested just inside nearby shop windows and winking Christmas lights had been strung above their heads. Lanterns cast shadows along the faces of the camp's locals as they milled back and forth, sharing dinners, reading from books - and dancing. Booming from a solar-powered stereo was a symphony of fiddles and guitars, harmonies of trumpets and clapping in time with the beat. A woman's tinny voice came through the speakers and she reminisced about an old lover who had gotten away. As you watched the people dance and stamp their feet along with the music, you found yourself drumming your fingers along, as well.

You were so engrossed in the music that you nearly missed what Cooper had his watchful eye on; the fridge-sized container with several spigots on its sides marked with a large piece of paper that read 'Clean Water.'

You and Cooper ducked back behind the escalator.

"Bunch of fuckin' idiots," said Cooper as he pulled a red-capped round from his bandolier and loaded it into his gun's chamber. "That shit'll attract every goddamn raider and feral within the mile."

"They're just having fun," you said, unsure of why you felt so defensive of these people you didn't even know. Maybe it was because they reminded you of your fellow vault dwellers back home. There had been a dance or performance like this nearly every night.

Cooper scoffed. "Fun like this gets you killed, little lady."

Your eyes widened as you watched him pull back the hammer of his firearm. "You're not going to just go up there and start shooting, are you?" You knew for a fact that he would. You'd seen him do it before - draw his pistol and start spinning the trigger because a raider or flock of ferals had what he wanted. But this - this was something different. Before he could do anything more, you reached out and grabbed his upper arm in a grasp so tight your knuckles paled. He flashed you a dark, dangerous look from beneath the brim of his hat, but you refused to let go. "Cooper, these people are innocent. They haven't done anything to us."

"Listen here, dollface, and listen well," he said, quickly spinning you around so that your back was pressed against the escalator. He caged you in, his gun hand still in your grasp and his other arm propped against the wall beside your head. You tried your damndest to not flush when you felt his breath on you, when his hips came just inches from pressing up against yours. "If we're goin' to be carryin' on this little arrangement, you need to learn to keep that pretty mouth of yours shut when I tell you to shut it. Now, I know you vaulties think everyone and their mama is goin' to repay that silly kindness of yours, but do not be mistaken. Keep yappin' and I will drink my fill of that there water while I make you watch, and then I'll tip the rest of it onto the floor. You hear me?"

You were at a loss for words, your tongue dry and your knees beginning to feel wobbly from the lack of water and proper rest. Just when you were about to let your eyes fall back down and accept that he was going to clear out the settlement for their water, footsteps echoed past where the two of you stood. Cooper snapped around and raised his pistol, his other arm still caging you in, and aimed down the barrel at a few young men approaching the rest of the locals beneath the glass dome. Instead of yelling, instead of dropping their belongings and begging for their lives while they pissed their pants in the presence of a ghoul, the men waved and smiled friendly grins.

"No need to hide," one said, gesturing the pair of you toward the others. "Y'all are welcome to come and make yourselves cozy. The more the merrier!"

They continued on, greeted by the other locals with shouts of welcome backs and fond hugs, paying no mind to the wide eyes and parted lips of you and your companion. Breaking away from Cooper's little cage he had created with himself and the wall - as much as it pained you to - you peeked back around the escalator. The young men pointed your way, and a number of people waved in kind and beckoned you forward. You found yourself taking a few steps toward the inviting sight of fresh water and the smell of food being cooked over one of the fires when Cooper snagged you by the back of your suit's collar and pulled you back into cover.

"Where on this good green earth you think you're goin'?" he said in a hushed tone, bringing your face close to his with a commanding grip on your jaw. Another flutter of excitement, of blood rush, bubbled to life in the pit of your stomach and began to travel south, but you suppressed the urge to lean into his touch. You didn't pull away, either.

"They invited us," you said, your eyes wandering back over to the light flickering from the lanterns and fires. "It's rude to turn down an invitation."

Cooper harrumphed and released you a little harsher than necessary. "What you've got is a one-way ticket to bein' on tomorrow's menu, sweetheart," he said, tilting his head to follow your gaze and keep eye contact when you looked away. "If you've about had your fill of the real world up here topside, then be my guest. Go and let'em fatten you up. I'll pour one out for 'ya tonight."

Deciding not to wonder if he would actually pour one out for you, if you really meant that much, you scoffed and shook your head. "You know it's okay to let your guard down every once in a while. Smile, maybe? Wave back? No wonder you're so damn bitter, old man."

Cooper stared down at you, and you wondered briefly if he was considering slamming your head into the side of the escalator. Would he drag you away with him, you thought? Or would he leave you for the strangers just around the corner. After what seemed an eternity, he hummed a short little note and nodded his head toward the camp. "You want to play friends, little lady? Go ahead. See how far that gets you before I've got to turn around and put one between the eyes of a man who's not lookin' just for the sake of lookin'."

With the faintest hint of a smile, you blinked up at him. "You'd turn around for me?" you asked in a murmur.

He matched your heated gaze, dark eyes intense and flaring a torch in your belly. "I suppose you'll just have to find out one of these days."

Swallowing thick, you took a breath, then turned and led him toward the little encampment of people. Heads turned as the pair of you approached, and you found that most of them smiled. You waved to those who offered little shakes of their hands, trailed by a ghoul stalking in his own shadow and resting the crook of his palm on his pistol. You were met by a kind-faced woman near the large tank of water, and she was forced to speak loudly to be heard over the sound of the thumping music.

"You folks just get in?" she said, already fixing two bowls of stew from a large pot simmering over a fire.

You broke yourself from the staring match you were having with the pot, the same one Cooper was still stuck in. Although, he may have been watching the chickens that roamed inside a little pen nearby as he licked his lips. "Yes, ma'am," you said over the trill of the woman's singing. You so desperately wished you knew the words so you could sing along. "I hope we're not imposing."

"Not at all!" A bowl of stew was pushed into your hands, and you forced yourself to be polite and not spoon it down your throat immediately. At your side, your companion gave the rim of the bowl a lick with the tip of his tongue before tipping it to slurp up. "We pride ourselves in being an open community. We might be small, but that just means there's more to share." The tin cups of water she handed over didn't last but five seconds before she was refilling them. "Make yourselves comfortable and stay however long you like. All we ask is that you keep your weapons holstered and don't disturb the music."

You and Cooper took seats at a dining table that had been dragged over from the cafeteria, neither of you speaking much as you both wolfed down what was in the bowls in front of you. Both of your spoons went untouched, each electing instead to drink up the strangely-colored meat floating around inside. Cooper finished much faster than you, and shucked off his gloves so that he could dip his scarred finger in to collect what juices were left. When he was finished, the bowl looked as though it hadn't even been used.

Watching him with a small smile, you let up from your own bowl and said, "I'm waiting."

"For what, exactly, little lady?"

"Your apology." You lapped up the rest of your stew before politely setting your bowl inside of his. "You wanted to -" You hesitated and glanced over your shoulder to make sure no one was too close to hear you. "You know." Then you settled a rather self-satisfied smirk over your features. "And look where we are now. So I'd like my apology now."

Cooper sucked on his finger, ensuring he was getting every last morsel of the stew that he could, and your attention was pulled down to where his lips wrapped around his digit. A part of you began to imagine it was yours. He noticed you staring and grinned wide. "And you know what I'm waitin' for, darlin'?"

"What?"

"For you to walk yourself over there and get me seconds."

You rolled your eyes, but nevertheless grabbed your stacked bowls and began to make your way over to where the woman was tending to the pot. "You'd better be thinking about your apology," you called over your shoulder. When you turned back around you nearly collided into someone retreating back to their spot with their own dinner. You jerked to the side, attempting to get out of their way first, and in doing so rammed yourself into the stereo set on a table in the center of the little camp. You watched in horror, bowls clasped to your chest, as the stereo tumbled over the edge of its pedestal and fell to the floor, where it shattered into what must have been hundreds of pieces. The camp became shrouded in a tense, shocked silence as every eye in the mall turned to face you and look upon your sin.

"I..." Your voice carried through the atrium and down the corridors of the shopping mall, sounding like an isolated cry for help. "I'm so sorry. I - I didn't mean to, I really didn't. Here, I might be able to fix it." You bent down to try and gather the pieces with your free hand, and the moment you did, a number of the camp locals drew weapons to aim in your direction.

"Now," came that familiar drawl behind you as you heard a hammer lock into place. "Are we really goin' to be killin' each other over some silly radio?" asked Cooper, and you felt some of your nerves ease slightly when you felt his chest press against your back.

A man to your right hissed. "You killed him!"

You shook your head viciously. "No, no! I - I didn't kill anyone. I'm sorry, I really am."

"You killed Sterry!" a woman accused.

"Sterry?" You looked down at the broken stereo and began to scoop up the bigger pieces you could find. "I - I can fix Sterry, I swear -"

"There's no fixing Sterry," moaned the woman who had served you stew as she sunk into the closest bench, looking as though she were about to faint. "He's dead. And you've killed us all."

You glanced back at Cooper, who wielded both his pistols now, each pointed in a different direction toward locals who had drawn their weapons. He offered a shrouded look that screamed, 'Now, didn't I tell you so, sweetheart?' You took a shuddering breath and faced the woman who had served you. "What do you mean?" you asked.

The woman placed her head in her hand as if she'd already accepted her fate. It was a daunting sight, the face of a woman so cheery and joyful such a short time ago, now deflated as though someone had let out all her air. "This place," she said, gesturing vaguely to the mall around you. "It's infested." The word was so heavy you felt as though you nearly choked on it. "Infested with creatures that will tear us limb from limb now that you've ruined everything. The music! The music was what kept them away, and now that it's gone..."

As if on cue, from the darkness of one of the long-winding corridors straight ahead, there came the bone-rattling sound of a feral hissing and snapping its weathered jaw. A few of the locals scrambled back as the creature emerged from the inky blackness, arms twisted and eyes sunken so far back into its skull they looked like they were forever pointed toward the sky. It took a rushed few steps forward before Cooper's arm rotated and he put a hole between its eyes. The feral dropped to the floor, leaking dark blood that stained the tile floor.

"Stop being so dramatic, Uma," said an older gentleman who stooped at your feet to begin gathering the pieces of Sterry. You immediately dropped to your knees to help. "We've fixed Sterry before, and we'll fix him again. It won't take long. But while we do, we'll need something to drive those creatures off..."

Your stomach dropped when, as you stood to hand over the pieces of the stereo, you felt Cooper's hands - still fitted with his pistols - rest heavily on your shoulders. "Well, then, y'all folks are in luck," he drawled, and you could practically hear the smirk playing his lips as he spoke. "I've got my very own songbird right here. I'd be happy to lend her to 'ya if, say... you filled our flasks from that there tank when the time comes for us to leave."

"Cooper," you hissed through your teeth as you spun around to face him. Singing for your vault was one thing, but singing for a bunch of strangers in the middle of an infested mall while ferals stumbled from the darkness all around you? He may as well have tossed you back out into the wastes. "You are not going to fucking trade me -"

"Done," said the old man as he sat down and began to sort Sterry's pieces. "Have your girl start singing - anything her heart desires. Just long enough for me to fix old Sterry here."

Giving the man a mock salute that didn't quite raise to his brow, Cooper shoved you onto a bench so that you stood over the rest of the camp. From this angle, they were all able to see your petrified expression and your hands shaking at your sides. "You heard the man," your companion said and smacked the back of your knee. "Get to it, songbird."

"Cooper, I can't -"

Before you were able to finish, Cooper turned, his ears pricking at something yours did not pick up, and dropped another feral that had been silently stalking the camp from the other side. A few of the locals yelped in terror, fleeing into shopfronts and tents.

"Sing for me, sweetheart," Cooper said. He sent you a wink, tipped his hat, then unleashed another round of lead into the darkness which only his eyes could penetrate.

You felt as if you were going to vomit. Sweat began to form on the back of your neck as you fisted your hands and swayed slightly where you stood on the bench. Turning your head, you met the eyes of a few camp locals watching you from their hideouts, their expressions filled with fear, anger, anticipation. They were waiting. Expecting. Needing. Attempting to push down the swelling that was beginning to form in your throat, you looked down at Cooper as he emptied his pistols of empty shells before reloading in order to fend off the ferals attacking the camp - the very camp he'd wanted to take out not half an hour ago.

He'd told you to sing for him. So you'd sing. For him, and only him.

Clearing your mouth and opening your lips, you took a breath and forced yourself to sing. "Death will come from where the earth meets the sky." Your voice wobbled slightly, rusty from having not singing since you left your vault. That, along with the fear and dehydration sitting on your tongue. "The sand is scorched beneath his step, the future decided by his eye." As you sang, the miniature explosions banging from the barrels of Cooper's pistols created a short, quick beat you unconsciously began to tap your foot along to. "He'll come for you all in the end, you'll never be free... he'll come for you all, but never for me."

Ferals shrieked in response to the gunfire, to the song torn right from your notebook in your pack, and one by one, like stage performers who had practiced this dance a hundred times, they dropped at the feet of the camp.

"Death's got a girl who croons his songs, which is why he never stays for long. He's got to run back to his lady, just as harsh as he, he's coming for you, but he's running back to me." As you sang you realized your voice was getting louder, louder, swelling until it filled the mall's atrium and every corridor far beyond. You tapped your heel along with the rhythm you'd created, closing your eyes and imagining an audience of one; a ghoul with his arms slung out across the chairs beside him and a knowing smirk playing his thin lips. It pulled you forward, pulled forth a song you hadn't realized was already in you. "He might sound mean, but I swear, he's kind. He's just got to peer into these eyes of mine. I'll ride with him, and he'll follow me, leaving behind a trail of blood far as the eye can see. Oh, my baby's got teeth to bite and a gun to blow, see his smoke and soon you'll know. Death ain't my man, he's my right hand. He'll come for you all in the end, you'll never be free... he'll come for you all, but never for me."

You had just been nearing a second verse when, from where it rested before the old man on the table, the stereo jumped back to life and filled the atrium with thrumming, pulsing folk music. It drowned out your voice, silenced you like a gunshot, and the ferals teetering on the edge of the darkness leading to the rest of the mall stumbled back into their hiding places. The camp locals slowly emerged from their hiding places, chattering excitedly about Sterry and his newfound love of life. Feeling a little stupid still standing on the bench, you climbed down and shuffled away toward where you had been originally sitting.

Taking a seat, you rested your forehead on your arms and exhaled a shaky breath. What had you been thinking? Singing a song for the man you'd become hopelessly fascinated with while he was just a few feet away, battling ferals who were intent on tearing out your throat and taking your voice with it? You were such a fucking idiot. You wouldn't be surprised if he told you to never open your mouth again.

Just as promised, your flasks were filled to the brims with fresh water before you went on your way, leaving the mall atrium and the singing, dancing camp locals behind as you picked your way back outside. Neither you nor Cooper said much as you continued your trek to nowhere, leaving a pair of footprints like echoes in your wake. Your cheeks remained flushed long after the mall had disappeared into the horizon, and long after you picked out an abandoned building to set up camp for the night. For once, it wasn't from the heat.

You sat across the lantern and what light it cast from Cooper, who stared into the little beacon as if he were watching the most fascinating flick within its glass. You held your notebook in your lap, thumb marking your place as your tried to write, but nothing would come to mind save for the things you'd sung about today. Mortification stirred like a serpent in your belly, and you briefly considered excusing yourself to get up and throw up outside.

"Let me see that book you've got there."

Your head lifted at Cooper's request - more of a demand - and unconsciously tightened your grip around your notebook. Your notebook - full of songs, melodies, lyrics. The most recent half of which you had written about the ghoul staring at you. "This?" you said, your trembling voice giving way to your nerves. You forced out a chuckle and smacked it shut. "It's nothing worth looking at."

"Why not?" he said, voice rasping lower than the baritone he usually held it at. You swore his gaze was hotter than the sun during the day and the fires at night. "You got more songs 'bout little old me in there?"

Fuck, he knew. Fuck all, he knew. You felt your flush deepen as you pointedly tucked your notebook into the bottom of your pack and flipped the top shut. "I... I don't know what you're talking about," you said, avoiding his eyes. Instead you focused on the fraying tip of your boot. "I wrote that a long time ago. Back in my vault."

"Uh huh." Cooper stared you down for so long you thought that perhaps time had frozen. Then he took a barely-there breath. "Come over here, songbird. Let me get a good look at you."

For a long, long moment, you remained still as you ever had been. What was he saying? Normally the only time he let you close to him was when he invaded your personal space to deliver a shove or to smack your knee or thigh to tell you to get a move on. Your breath hitched when you finally lifted your head and found his gaze boring into yours, heavier than a ton and white hot like a branding iron.

"I ain't goin' to tell you again, pretty girl."

As if he had you on a fucking leash - because you swore he did - you found yourself pitching forward, crawling on your hands and knees toward him. He spread his legs slightly, enough to give you room to fit between them, and hesitantly, so very carefully, you rested yourself against his front. His rough, scarred hands, free of his gloves, came up to rest on the swell of your hips as if they were made to be there, fitting like puzzle pieces against your skin beneath your vault suit. You stared up at him, backlit by the lantern light, and let his thumb drag down your bottom lip until it slipped from his touch.

"Didn't think my songbird had such desire in her," Cooper chuckled, his warm breath fanning across your face.

You relished in the goosebumps that crawled over the planes of your skin. "I... I don't..."

"Oh, you'd be dead wrong if you said that little ditty you sang today wasn't all about desire." He settled back deeper where he sat, giving you more room to settle against him between the columns of his thighs. Your lower belly rested against his crotch, where you felt the hard outline of his cock straining against his trousers. Your heart skipped a beat or three. "If you wanted to ride with death, sweetheart, all you needed to do was ask."

Cooper sealed his lips to yours without word or warning, pulling a surprised little noise from the back of your throat that he swallowed up with fervor. As the initial shock faded, you found your eyes slipping shut and your mouth moving against his, lips opening without fight when his tongue demanded to explore your own. Bracing yourself with one hand against his thigh, you reached up with your other and cradled the back of his head, knocking off his hat in the process.

Swift to get a move on, to feel you against him and swallow up more of your sounds, Cooper easily flipped you around so that you were now lying flat on your back and he was hovering over your prone form. Both tingling excitement and nauseating nerves pulled groans from your lips as he moved to pressing harsh kisses and nips to the column of your neck, licking up red spots that would surely bruise come morning time. He shucked off his duster and abandoned it somewhere behind him, at the same time, by some skill you had no idea anyone possessed, also grasping at the zipper of your vault suit to pull it down as far as it would go.

It didn't take long for you to shimmy out of the suit, leaving you in just your underwear, the seams of which he traced with his calloused finger. It sent a chill running up your spine despite the heat prodding at your skin.

"My songbird sounds real pretty when she's singin'," Cooper muttered as he sucked a bruise into the swell of one breast over the cup of your bra. "I bet she sounds even better screamin' for me."

His hand plunged beneath the waistband of your panties and began to explore your folds, pulling a long, whining moan from your lips. He ate you and your whimpers up, devouring your lips like he wanted to eat you whole - maybe he did - while his middle finger ran up and down your cunt a few times before deftly finding your clit and applying a bit of pressure to the sensitive bud. You cried out. It had been far too long since you'd seen any real action. It didn't take long before your folds were soaked, and he was able to gingerly nudge his finger past the entrance of your pussy. It felt foreign to have another person thrusting their finger in and out of you, building you up to a kind of high you hadn't known since far before you left your vault. In less than a few minutes - something he would surely tease you about later - you felt that familiar coil snap in your stomach and you soaked his hand with a loud, throat-rattling wail that escaped your lips and flew right past his.

Cooper pulled back with a self-satisfied smirk and pulled his hand from your panties, lifting his spread hand to show you to slick you'd coated his digits with. You were only able to huff for breath and watch with hooded eyes as he brought his fingers to his mouth and used his skillful tongue to lick off your cum. You briefly wondered what else that tongue of his could do, what it would feel like to have him lap up your pussy like it was the only thing to guarantee him his daily hit of medicine.

"Sweet as honey, baby," he cooed, bracing himself with one hand while the other worked on the buckle of his belt. "Well. Maybe Tennessee honey. You ever had a taste of that?" He knew you hadn't. But that didn't stop his smirk from growing in size when you numbly shook your head. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, baby. We'll get you a lick one day. 'Til then..."

Your limbs dancing with pins and needles, you lifted your hips to help him tug off your panties. "I'll just have to settle for what I've got," you exhaled with a hazy smile.

Cooper grinned wide, a smile that bordered on the edge of dark, as he tugged down his trousers just enough for his cock to spring free. He was thick - larger than you'd expected - and his member was rough and scarred like the rest of him. It made you want to feel him all the more. "I'll promise you somethin', darlin," he said as he positioned himself at your entrance and you locked your legs around his waist, heels digging into the edge of his gun belt. "I'm better than anything else you'll taste these days." With that he slid into you, filling you at once to the brim like he just couldn't wait to feel you from the inside. A loud, sharp yelp escaped your lips as your back arched instinctively, curling yourself up into him. He only waited a few moments for you to adjust before he started moving, pulling himself out to the tip before thrusting back inside your welcoming cunt. You were able to feel each and every ridge of him, every scar, and you swore you were getting drunk from just the feeling.

"Fuckin' shit, girl," he groaned, moving to press the flat of his hand to the base of your neck so that he could keep you in place while he fucked you. "Better than I could've fuckin' dreamed."

Cooper's thrusts began to increase in speed, your moans and whimpers accompanied by his low, almost growling snarls he panted against the shell of your ear. You couldn't believe this was happening. You were being fucked by the ghoul you'd been following all these months, the ghoul you'd been watching and studying and falling hopelessly for. And it felt good. It felt so fucking good, a part of you wasn't entirely convinced this entire scenario wasn't a dream concocted by the recesses of your mind.

"God, Coop," you heard yourself moan as your nails dug crescent moons into the fabric of his shirt. "Feels so fucking good..."

"Atta girl," he muttered, moving his head down so that he could suck at the junction where your neck met your shoulder. "Such a sweet little songbird." His grip on your hips tightened as his movements increased even further. "Might just have to fuck you good every night so I can hear you sing for me."

You panted deep as you felt your second orgasm of the night approaching at an alarming rate. Your hips bucked up to meet his with each thrust, the sound of skin on skin filling the abandoned building in which you had taken shelter. "Don't have to - ah! - even ask. I'll sing for you any time, Coop."

Cooper's breaths came shorter, sharper, and it wasn't long before he came with a harsh bite against your shoulder, one that spilled blood into his awaiting mouth and pulled your own orgasm from deep within your depths. You shuddered and cried for him, tugging him close and holding him there for several minutes after your highs had faded and your breaths evened.

Finally, he pulled himself off of you. A short whine escaped you when he slipped from your heat, and he chuckled low before tossing you your panties to slip back on. When you were both covered again, you sat up and crossed your legs as you basked in the afterglow of what had just taken place. Cooper dug around in his saddlebag for a moment before producing his inhaler and drinking up a shot of his medicine, shaking his head against the sudden buzz that came with it as he sat back on his elbows and stared at the lantern light.

"I..." You struggled to find the words so desperately clawing at your chest. "I hope you don't..."

Cooper reached up and pulled your wrist out from under you, causing you to fall back on the ground beside him with an 'umph.' He let his arm cushion your fall before sweeping a few strands of hair from your face and giving you that crooked smirk which made your legs fall numb all over again. "Oh, don't you worry yourself, songbird," he said. "I ain't lettin' you fly away from me any time soon."

[toovaeloe]

post-nut munchies

Satoru doesn’t get post sex clarity shame or guilt. He gets hungry.

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

mdni•18+

content: small minific, gn penetration, established relationship, dumbification if you squint, mating press but again: only if you’re looking through a foggy window, mostly aftercare and a gojo being goofy (being a FATASS) ((he’s my fave fatty))

wc: 826

Clarity. That might as well be the universally defined antonym of Satoru Gojo.

Because if there’s one thing Gojo doesn’t own and his fat paycheck can’t buy, it’s shame.

“fuuuckkk,” 

He’d groan a guttural draw as he pistoned into your tight heat, before alternating into slow, powerful grinding of his hips that had your brain vacating the premises to make space for his dumb fucking dick. He knew it, too; could see it in the way your your eyes struggled to stay in focus and the way your back bowed off the sheets you were gripping with white-knuckle intensity— he’s fucked all the thoughts out of your pretty little head. And the bastard couldn’t be cheesing any harder about it.

“My pretty baby,” He’s muse, somehow finding it in himself to giggle breathily as one of his large palms slips away from where he was squeezing the underside of your thigh. He smooths up towards your abdomen, featherlight fingers grazing up your chest and over a pert nipple before traveling back down to splay over your hip, all with deliberate gentleness. “so beautiful like this.”

“feel me right there, yeah? That deep?” The husk of his voice rumbles just above you, the pad of his thumb skimming over the skin below your belly button, eyes crinkling at the way you whimper out soft frantic mhm!’s when he adds pressure. His grin is from ear to ear, the sigh he lets out dreamy and adoring. “yeaahhh.”

He’s only smug for so long, however, with the way your eager hole was sucking him in, milking him like you wanted to siphon his soul out his body via cock. Satoru leans down as a string of curses tumbles from his lips with a groan, sweat-slick chest meeting yours as his hands scramble to find your legs once more. Blunt nails dig into your flesh as he forces them up next to either side of your head, effectively folding you in half like a goddamn lawn chair. The change in angle has you keening as he rammed into that gummy spot inside you, with no less accuracy the other 6 times he’s made you cum tonight.

“shit, shit, yer so… mmh’fuck ‘can’t think— needa cum s’bad,” He quite literally whines as you barrel over that peak, his mouth latching to yours to share your muffled moans as he follows suit. His hips stutter against yours as he spills inside of you, before he goes still entirely, the both of you riding the waves of the ebbing high until he collapses atop you- and with how exhausted you both are, it’s undoubtedly the last one tonight.

Or at least one of you is bone-tired. After a few minutes of Satoru floating in the afterglow, he’s littering affectionate wet kisses all across your face, offering you praise of what a good job you did for him as he eases your legs back down and kneads your hips- having the audacity to tease you with the idea of juuuust one more round. HELL no. He gets the memo when you weakly kick at him, but it doesn’t stop him from chuckling at your incredulous expression as he slides his softening shaft out of you.

His snowy bangs still stick to his brow as he rises from the bed with a grunt, making a show of stretching, cracking stiff joints, and flexing muscles before returning to your side with a warm washcloth. He’s still all smiles and chipper beaming as he tenderly cleans in between your legs, biting his lip to stifle himself from blabbing out about how much pride he felt seeing you like this- it’d probably fluster you into chiding him if you saw the goofy ass expression he was making. Not that you were really paying any mind; your eyelids fluttering closed every other minute and about ready to conk out.

“Y’know what sounds good right now though?” Satoru chirped out of the blue, yanking you back from the cusp of slumber.

“Some fro-yo. Maybe strawberry- with chocolate chips, gummy bears, marshmallows, cookie dough, and a fuckton of rainbow sprinkles. Cherry on top, of course,” He’d ramble off his abominable go-to order as his hand absentmindedly wandered to trace soothing patterns against one of your knees. You’re just dumbfounded at how he could possibly be fantasizing about frozen yogurt right now; limp-dicked and in his birthday suit after he just fucked you into next Tuesday. “God, my mouth’s watering just thinkin’ about it.”

“I know a 24 hour fro-yo spot. It’s only, like…a 20-ish minute drive?” He’d muse, sapphire eyes redirecting from the ceiling and back to you. When he caught your flabbergasted expression he’d coyly duck his head and bat his frosty lashes at you, as if that was about to convince you. You wondered if you could even walk, or if maybe you’d need at least 5-8 business days to recuperate.

“Doesn’t that sound good, hm? You up for it, angel?”

a/n: craving a ben&jerry’s cherry garcia🤤 also i hate him a lot today. like so much 😒 but i gotta finish writing this Ino thing for a diff thing so im forcing myself to resist writing Gojo. Instead i will say, “i hate him”;

I hate him.

have a wonderful day and do something nice for yourself! 🫶🏽

[mcrdvcks]

Shut Up

Summary: You and Logan are sent on a mission: go to the gala and find out information about a mutant trafficking ring.

Word Count: 3.7k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!reader

Notes: the summary seems much darker than what the story actually is, promise!

reader's powers are psionics, but her specialty is feeling other people's emotions

also, check out the part 2 if you so please! it's pretty much only smut (i think it's more words than this too, oops)

picture of reader's dress

warnings/tags: some uses of y/n, pet name (doll), rich people

Part 2

You and Logan stood in the large entrance way of the gala, the worker taking your feathery coat from your hands, leaving you in your black figure-hugging gown, with detachable arm sleeves and a high slit on one side.

This certainly wasn’t your ideal mission, you hated dressing up.

You fidgeted with the detachable arm sleeves of your gown, glancing over at Logan, who stood beside you in the grand entranceway. His usual rough exterior was toned down by the crisp black suit he was wearing, though he still had that rugged edge about him that no fancy attire could hide. He caught your fidgeting and smirked, leaning in slightly.

"You look uncomfortable, doll," he said in that deep, gravelly voice of his, his eyes scanning your figure from top to bottom. "Fancy parties not your thing?"

You shot him a quick look, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. He had a way of making you feel both self-conscious and... something else. Something you didn’t want to think about too much.

"You know I hate dressing up for this shit, Logan," you muttered, tugging slightly at the fabric near your waist. "I feel like I’m suffocating in this thing. And these people…" You gestured toward the well-dressed crowd mingling in the ballroom ahead, laughing and sipping on champagne. "Ugh."

Logan chuckled lowly, his gaze never leaving you. "Coulda fooled me. You look damn good." The compliment was casual, but the way he said it, the way his eyes lingered a bit too long on your slit, sent a small shiver down your spine.

You rolled your eyes, trying to act unaffected. "Focus, Logan. We’ve got a job to do, remember?"

"Trust me, doll," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets, his smirk still in place. "I'm plenty focused."

You couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Logan had always been like this with you—flirty, teasing, but never crossing the line. It was this unspoken thing between you two, a game that neither of you had acknowledged but both played. Sometimes you wondered if he was just messing with you, or if there was something more underneath all the teasing.

Either way, now wasn’t the time to be thinking about it.

As you both stepped further into the ballroom, the sound of soft classical music filled the air. Logan’s hand brushed against the small of your back, guiding you toward the bar, where you could at least look like you were blending in while you scoped out the place.

Charles had said there were going to be a group of people here tonight talking about a mutant trafficking ring. All you had to do was find them and listen in.

And just maybe kick some ass, even if Charles told you not to. You and Logan weren’t exactly the type to follow orders.

Logan leaned close to your ear as you both approached the bar. "Just remember, doll, no ass-kicking unless absolutely necessary," he said with a smirk, his voice teasing but with a hint of seriousness underneath.

You glanced up at him, trying to suppress a smile. "I know, I know. We’re supposed to play nice and just listen," you said, rolling your eyes. But let’s be honest, 'just listening' wasn’t your strong suit either. You were here to get information, but the thought of standing around, making small talk with these people, made your skin crawl. You’d much rather get straight to the point. Maybe that’s why Logan had been assigned to partner with you on this mission—he was just as bad at following orders as you were.

"Good. 'Cause the last thing I need is you turning this into a scene," Logan replied, his grin widening as he leaned against the bar.

"Oh, come on, Logan," you shot back, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "When have I ever been known to cause a scene?" You batted your eyelashes dramatically, playing innocent.

Logan snorted. "Yeah, sure. You, not causing a scene? That's cute, sweetheart." He signaled to the bartender. "Whiskey. Neat."

You glanced around the room, using your psionic abilities to subtly sense the emotional energy of the people around you. The room was a mess of conflicting emotions—excitement, greed, lust, and arrogance filled the space, but nothing out of the ordinary for a gathering like this. Still, you could sense something darker underneath the surface, a faint thread of fear and unease woven into the fabric of the crowd. It was faint, but it was there.

Logan nudged you with his elbow, drawing your attention back to him. "You picking up anything?"

"Just the usual cocktail of emotions," you said, lowering your voice as the bartender handed Logan his drink. "But there’s something… off. I can’t quite put my finger on it yet."

Logan took a sip of his whiskey, his eyes scanning the room. "We’ll find 'em. Just gotta stay patient." He gave you a sideways glance. "Think you can manage that, doll?"

"Patience is my middle name," you deadpanned, though both of you knew that wasn’t true. You weren’t known for your patience. But for now, you’d play along. This mission was important, and you weren’t about to screw it up. Not with Charles counting on you.

Logan chuckled again and leaned back against the bar, his eyes briefly flicking down to your gown before meeting your gaze again. "Still can’t believe you got all dressed up for this. Coulda fooled me that you hate it. You’re turning a few heads."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that your way of telling me I look nice, Logan? Because that almost sounded like a compliment."

His lips curled into a slow, lazy grin. "What can I say? You clean up nice, Psionix." He downed the rest of his whiskey, eyes twinkling with amusement.

You felt a slight blush creeping up your neck but quickly masked it with a smirk. "And here I thought you liked me better in tactical gear."

"Don’t get me wrong, doll," Logan said, his voice lowering as he stepped just a little closer, his presence filling the space between you. "You look good in anything. But this… this is something else."

Your breath caught for a split second, the heat between you rising as his gaze lingered on your face, your lips, and then back to your eyes. “Well, if I’m being honest, I prefer you shirtless,” you teased, your voice low but dripping with playful intent. You didn’t break eye contact, letting the words hang in the air between you both.

Logan raised an eyebrow, that cocky smirk of his creeping back onto his face. “Is that so?” he murmured, leaning in slightly, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. "Can't say I'm surprised. Most people do, sweetheart."

You snorted softly, rolling your eyes as you turned away from him to glance around the room, trying to refocus on the mission. But you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. This was just Logan. Always pushing boundaries, always teasing. And you weren’t exactly innocent in it either.

But still, there was something… different about tonight. The way his eyes lingered on you, the way his voice dropped a little lower than usual, the way your heart raced just a little faster. You wondered if he could sense it too—the tension between you both that had always been there but never quite acknowledged.

Logan’s hand found its way to the small of your back again, his touch light but steady as he subtly guided you toward a quieter corner of the ballroom. The warmth of his hand sent a jolt through you, but you tried to ignore it, focusing instead on scanning the crowd for your targets.

“You see anything?” he murmured, leaning close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath against your ear.

“Not yet,” you replied, eyes darting from face to face. “But that uneasy feeling is still there. Just need to figure out where it’s coming from.”

“Hmm,” Logan hummed in acknowledgment, his gaze still roaming over the room. “Stay sharp, doll.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Like I need you to tell me that.”

He smirked, a hint of a challenge in his eyes. “Just making sure you remember the plan.”

“Oh, I remember,” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Play nice, look pretty, and no ass-kicking unless absolutely necessary.”

Logan chuckled, his eyes flicking over your form again. “Well, you’ve got two out of three down pat.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Which two?”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Looking pretty and causing trouble.”

Your breath hitched slightly, the intensity in his gaze sending a ripple of heat through you. “Pretty sure ‘trouble’ is your middle name, not mine,” you said, trying to sound casual.

Logan’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Guess that makes us a good team, then.”

You wanted to scoff, to brush off the implication, but the way he was looking at you made it hard to think straight. For a second, you almost forgot why you were there, the mission blurring at the edges as you got lost in those damn eyes of his.

“Psionix,” he said, bringing you back to reality with just your code name. His tone was more serious now, a subtle reminder of where you were and what you were supposed to be doing.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, tearing your gaze away from him and focusing on the task at hand. “Just keep your eyes peeled.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable. But as you turned to face the room again, you couldn’t help but feel his eyes on you, a weighty gaze that made your skin tingle.

You refocused, honing in on the emotions swirling in the crowd. There was excitement, greed—nothing unexpected for a gala full of rich people. But that dark thread of unease lingered, slipping just beneath the surface. It was faint, but unmistakable. Whoever it was, they were here.

You closed your eyes for just a second, concentrating. Your power flared slightly as you extended your senses further into the crowd, gently weaving through the emotions until you found it—a cluster of fear and malice. Bingo.

"There," you whispered, nudging Logan subtly. "Near the back, close to the big windows. Two men, maybe three. They’re nervous, hiding something."

Logan gave a small nod, his gaze shifting casually toward the area you’d mentioned. "I see 'em," he murmured. "Can’t hear much from here, though. We’re gonna have to get closer."

You both started moving, weaving through the crowd, trying to appear casual. You made your way to the bar again, standing just a few feet away from the group of men. Logan's superhuman hearing kicked in as he subtly leaned in, pretending to survey the liquor bottles behind the bar.

"They’re talkin’ about somethin’ shady, but it’s quiet," Logan muttered, low enough for only you to hear. "Mutants, shipments, some kinda deal goin’ down soon."

You kept your eyes forward, but your heart quickened. "Trafficking?"

"Sounds like it," Logan replied, his jaw tightening. "We need more details. But if we hang around here too long, they’re gonna get suspicious."

"Maybe we should split up. We’d blend in easier with the crowd," you suggested, trying to stay casual as you glanced around the room.

Logan tilted his head slightly, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling back on you. "Not a bad idea, doll. But if things go sideways, you better stay close. Don’t need you gettin' yourself into trouble without me."

You rolled your eyes. "I think I can handle myself, Logan."

He smirked. "Oh, I know you can. Just sayin', I like bein' there to watch."

You ignored the way his words made your pulse quicken and nodded. "We’ll stay in each other’s sight. I’ll keep an eye on the emotions from this side. You listen in, and if anything happens, we meet at the far end of the bar."

"Got it." Logan took another sip of his whiskey before turning to saunter off toward the side of the room where the group of men stood. You watched as he moved, trying to blend in with the crowd as you stayed where you were, your senses focused on tracking the emotions of your targets.

The nervous energy around the men was still there, tense and uneasy. It was like they were waiting for something—or someone. You shifted your stance, leaning casually against the bar as you closed your eyes briefly, letting your psionics stretch out just a bit more, trying to pull at the threads of fear in the room.

Logan, now closer to the group, kept his back to them but you could tell from his posture that he was listening in. His superhuman hearing had always been a huge advantage in these situations, and with your psionics guiding him, you made a pretty solid team—when you weren’t teasing each other, that is.

Just as you started to focus, one of the men in the group glanced over, his gaze lingering a little too long on Logan. Shit. He must've noticed something.

You felt the wave of suspicion hit you before Logan even turned slightly to meet your eyes across the room. You knew you had to do something before the men caught on to what you were both up to.

Without thinking, you pushed yourself off the bar and sauntered over to Logan, pretending like you’d been on your way to him the whole time. When you reached him, you leaned in close, brushing your fingers against his arm as if you were just here to flirt.

"Play along," you whispered into his ear.

Logan, ever the pro, didn’t even flinch. Instead, he turned his head slightly toward you, a smirk playing on his lips. "Thought you couldn’t stay away from me, doll."

You narrowed your eyes at him but kept the playful banter going. "Yeah, well, someone has to keep an eye on you. Besides, you’re the one who told me to stay close."

His smirk widened as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in closer so you were pressed up against him. It was all for show, of course, but the feel of his hand on your hip sent a jolt through you that had nothing to do with the mission. "That’s right. Guess I did."

You could feel the eyes of the men across the room on you both, their suspicion easing slightly as they bought into the act. You had to keep them distracted, keep their attention off what you and Logan were really doing.

"Don’t get too comfortable," you muttered, trying to stay focused. "They’re still watching."

Logan’s grip tightened on your waist for just a second, his eyes flicking toward the group before settling back on you. "Don’t worry, doll. I got this." Before you could respond, Logan leaned in even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "You’re really sellin’ it, Y/N. Almost too well."

You swallowed, trying to ignore the way his breath on your skin made you feel. "Just doin’ my part."

His hand on your waist slid a little lower, dangerously close to your hip bone. "Sure you are. You’re enjoyin' this a little too much."

You shot him a glare, but before you could retort, one of the men from the group stepped forward, moving toward the bar. He was heading in your direction.

"Incoming," you muttered to Logan, your voice barely audible. “He’s confident. Think he knows who we are?”

Logan didn’t look phased, but you saw the subtle shift in his posture—his muscles tensing under the fabric of his suit. He kept his gaze focused ahead, though you knew his senses were already tracking the man moving toward you.

“Don’t think so,” Logan murmured, his lips barely moving.

The closer the man got to you, the more arrogance you felt. Whoever this guy was clearly thought he had you both right where he wanted you.

You turned slightly in Logan’s hold, his hand moving with your body to finally rest on your hip. “Quick, pretend like you're about to kiss me.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Pretend, huh? Doll, you should know I go all in or nothin’- ”

You cut Logan off by putting your hands on his jaw and pulling him down, pressing your lips against his. It was supposed to be just for show, just a distraction to keep the guy from getting suspicious. But the second your lips met his, the whole plan went out the window.

Logan didn’t hesitate. He kissed you back, hard and fast, his hand tightening around your waist as he pulled you even closer. The heat between you two had been simmering for a while now, and suddenly it felt like a dam had broken. You felt the tension that had been building for so long snap into something real, something you couldn’t ignore.

Your heart was racing, and you knew you should stop—this wasn’t the time or place, and you had a job to do—but his lips were on yours, and it felt way too good to stop. You could feel his rough beard brush against your skin as he deepened the kiss, his other hand sliding up to the back of your neck, holding you close like he didn’t want to let go.

For a brief moment, the mission faded into the background. The gala, the crowd, even the man approaching—all of it disappeared as you lost yourself in Logan. The heat between you two was undeniable, every teasing remark, every playful touch over the years suddenly making sense. It had always been there, simmering just beneath the surface.

But then reality crashed back down, hard.

You heard the footsteps stop a few feet away, the arrogant man watching you both with thinly veiled disgust. He cleared his throat, his presence a stark reminder of where you were and what you were supposed to be doing.

You pulled back from the kiss, breathless, eyes wide as you met Logan’s gaze. For a second, neither of you moved, the intensity of the moment hanging thick in the air. His hand was still on your waist, the other resting gently at the nape of your neck, fingers brushing your skin. You could see it in his eyes—he didn’t want to let go, and truth be told, neither did you.

But the mission.

Clearing your throat, you took a step back, putting some distance between you and Logan while keeping your posture relaxed, like you hadn’t just been completely swept away. You smoothed your gown, trying to regain some composure.

The man standing before you smirked, his eyes flicking between you and Logan with an air of superiority. “Enjoying yourselves?” he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Logan was the first to recover, his rough exterior snapping back into place like a shield. He gave the man a once-over, his gaze hard and unyielding. “What’s it to you?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, as if daring the guy to say something more.

The man’s smirk widened, clearly not intimidated. He tilted his head, studying you both for a moment before speaking again. “You two don’t look like the usual gala attendees.” He raised an eyebrow, his suspicion obvious now. “Mind telling me what brings you here?”

You could feel the tension crackling between Logan and the man, both of them sizing each other up. Logan’s body was coiled, ready to strike if needed, and you knew he was already itching to shut this guy up the old-fashioned way. But you couldn’t let this turn into a fight. Not yet.

You forced a smile, stepping slightly in front of Logan to diffuse the situation. “It’s a gala,” you said, keeping your tone light and playful. “We’re here for the same reason everyone else is—to enjoy ourselves.” You ran your hand down Logan’s chest as if to sell the act, even though your heart was still pounding from the kiss.

The man’s eyes narrowed, clearly not buying it, but he didn’t push the issue further. Instead, he gave a condescending shrug. “Well, enjoy the party,” he said, his voice laced with disdain before he turned and sauntered off toward the bar.

The second he was out of earshot, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, glancing up at Logan. “That was close.”

Logan’s eyes were still on the man, watching him like a predator watches prey. “Too close,” he muttered, his voice gruff. Then his gaze shifted to you, softer now, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “You okay?”

You nodded, though your mind was still spinning from the kiss, from the intensity of it, from what it might mean. “Yeah, I’m fine. You?”

Logan didn’t answer right away, his eyes lingering on you a moment longer before he finally tore his gaze away. “We need to figure out what those guys are up to. You still got a read on them?”

You blinked, shaking off the lingering effects of the kiss as you focused on the mission again. Closing your eyes briefly, you stretched out your psionic senses, feeling for that dark thread of unease that had been following the group. It was still there, pulsing just beneath the surface of the room’s general excitement. “Yeah,” you said, opening your eyes. “They’re tense. Something’s about to happen.”

Logan’s jaw tightened. “Then we better be ready for it.” He gave you a long look, as if trying to figure something out, but then his expression hardened into his usual no-nonsense demeanor. “Stay close, doll.”

You nodded, pushing aside the butterflies still fluttering in your chest as you focused on the task ahead. There’d be time to unpack what just happened between you and Logan later—right now, you had a mission to complete.

But as you and Logan moved back into position, ready for whatever came next, you couldn’t help but steal one more glance at him. The tension between you wasn’t going anywhere. And something told you that after tonight, it was going to be a lot harder to keep ignoring it.

tags: @freythecrazyfae, @its-in-the-woods

[pretty-little-mind33]

FEM!READER PULLING HIS TIE!

(ft. aaron taylor johnson characters)

ask: The boys u currently take requests for and their reactions to reader pulling them close by their tie plz plz plz I'll worship you forever🙏🙏🙏

warnings: implied explicit themes

includes - in said order

~ James Potter - harry potter marauders era (yes ik it's technically a fancast but he's my baby)

~ Tangerine - bullet train

~ Dave Lizewski - kick-ass

~ Count Alexei Vronksy - anna karenina 2012

~ Tom Ryder - the fall guy

~ Pietro Maximoff - avengers: age of ultron

~ worship me forever you say? 😏 ~

• James and his parents host plenty of fancy parties at the Potter mansion. They're always fun but formal, which means, obviously, James is wearing a suit and a tie.

• As his girlfriend, he insists that your dress matches his tie. He's very very serious when he says it. Like, dead serious. He'll pout if you don't and you find it slightly annoying, if not endearing.

• During the party, you'll mingle with your friends and have a blast. You and James don't have to stay connected at the hip, but he'll always check in on you.

• You'll have a few drinks, being slightly tipsy. James is as tipsy and he'll make a joke as you stumble towards each other, your hand fiddling with his tie.

• "You look like someone hit you with a bludger," James will giggle, his words slurred.

• You'll smirk and your hand tightens around his tie, yanking him down to your height, pressing your lips onto his and savoring his taste. He tastes like the expensive cherry wine his Mum adores.

• Obviously, this turns James on and he has to control himself from ravaging you in the middle of the dance floor because that isn't very gentlemanly of him.

• Tangerine always wears his suit out. He has an assortment of suits, mostly in different shades of blue (to match his eyes but he'll never admit to that.)

• You love his suits because you find them sexy. He knows you love them so he feels ever sexier.

• "Stop starin' at me like that," he'll joke, glaring as he walks by you.

• He loves when you stare.

• Often, you'll use his tie to pull him places whenever you want him to follow you. The small gesture of dominance turning him on so badly. Tangerine is usually the one in control, but not this time 😉

• Tangerine will happily follow you like a puppy, being lead by his tie and Lemon makes fun of him, which only earns him a middle finger from his brother.

• Pull him in by his tie and kiss him? He's head over heels, he's a goner

• 100% secretly likes when you're in charge (you know this)

• "You like when I pull you around, huh?"

• He'll nod. You make him a mess and he can't bring himself to care.

• Dave only wears a suit and a tie on special occasions and so because it's rare to see him in formal attire, when you do it does always make it extra special.

• You can't keep your hands off him and he's obsessed.

• "Mm, you look so pretty, Davey," you'll whisper in his ear, your fingers gliding over smooth the material of his tie (you'd helped him tie it)

• Dave's cheeks will burn a bright pink and you'll stroke some of his dark curls behind his ear, touching where his ears have turned pink too as your smile widens. You love making him flustered!

• If you're at a school dance, you'll be attached to his hip the entire time.

• It's your fourth dance and just as the evening dies down and it's his turn to press a kiss to your cheek, missing your lips by a little.

• You'll smirk and use his tie to guide his head so he doesn't miss your lips this time. The kiss surprises him as he blushes from embarrassment and also his overwhelming love for you.

• Does Alexei wear ties or bow ties?!

• Well either way, there is always something to grab onto (😏) and because your favorite thing to do is help him dress before a night out, adjusting his cuffs and collar for example, you use it to your advantage.

• "Why do you have a cheeky look on your face, dove?" He'll ask, his blue eyes narrowing as his gaze then flickers to the mirror behind him to check his appearance.

• "No reason, my love," you whisper.

• There is a reason.

• Once you finish, you smile up at him and pull him closer, your hand wrapped around the fabric, as you kiss his lips passionately.

• When you pull away, his cheeks are flushed and he can barely form words. His hands slide down your waist and tighten.

• "Do it again, please," Alexei will whisper in your ear.

• Tom is a cocky asshole. He prides himself on always being on top. But you being his girlfriend, it comes with certain perks.

• You have him wrapped around your finger as you push him against his trailer, kissing him roughly. Tom is loving the attention as he makes snarky comments between kisses.

• You grab his tie, the one he's wearing for his costume, and pull harshly. You bite on his lip, causing a yelp from him and a faint blush to grace his features.

• "Shit," Tom groans, his eyes wide.

• You'll pull away and tighten your hand around his tie. "You like that?"

• Tom nods and pulls you in for another kiss.

• Pietro is always bouncing around, so to get him to stay still is a pretty hard task.

• You're at an Avengers party when you see him fidgeting with this tie in the corner, either anxious to leave or anxious to be here. You feel for him.

• So, you walk over and stand directly in front of him. "Are you okay, Pietro?" you ask kindly, watching him fiddle with the tie. It‘a quite badly done.

• You smile and pull his hand away gently. Pietro startles, his cheeks turning pink as he feels embarrassed. "Papa n-never taught me," he says, sounding shyer than you've ever seen him.

• "It's okay. I can do it for you," you hum and tie his tie correctly. "Why didn't you ask Clint?"

• Pietro would shrug, looking away. "I was embarrassed," he admits, looking even more embarrassed.

• He looks at you, his heart beat pounding so hard. Yours does the same, your fingers curling in his tie as you slowly pull him in. Your lips hover above his for a moment, hesitating.

• Pietro is the one who kisses you, finding his cheeky charm again as the embarrassment from the situation fades.

• "How long you been wanting to do that?" he teases.

• You roll your eyes at him, swatting his arm.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Fiquei completamente apaixonada pelo imagine que você fez do Logan/Wade/Reader, queria muito outro assim, nada em especial, só mais sobre o relacionamento dos três (I'm really bad with requests, sorry)

(Rough translation by google: I was completely in love with the imagine you made of Logan/Wade/Reader, I really wanted another one like that, nothing in particular, just more about the relationship of the three) if it’s translated something within the request wrong, let me know.

Emotional support isn’t either Wade nor Logan’s strong suit. one made a massive joke out of everything, even his own feelings, while the other suppressed them unhealthily.

So needless to say if emotional comfort is what you were after, you were unfortunately out of luck but that didn’t mean that the pair were about to leave you to suffer alone during such a rough time in your life. Wade and Logan will find a way to help you anyway they could.

Wade would insist that you both have a spontaneous day where you’d do anything that came to your mind without judgment. You may or may not end up making dick cookies together in the kitchen whilst wearing your matching unicorn onesie pyjamas, covered in flour and other stuff.

Ass slaps -consensual of course- are a common occurrence between you, Wade and Logan…well mainly you and Wade…but Logan will gently tap your ass before kissing your forehead, meanwhile giving Wade the hardest slap that would leave a hand shape bruise that would last a week.

Cuddles are something that’s also frequent in your relationship with Wade and Logan but most -if not all- of the time you were in the middle of the both of them, leeching off of their warmth like the parasite you were but you were living the life.

Wade doesn’t care whether he’s the big or small spoon as either way he gets to be close to you in some capacity, where as Logan likes to be the big spoon so he could keep you safe and protected, always sleeping with his back to the door so that if anything were to happen they’d have to get through him.

Wade’s petnames for you are:

Cutie patootie with the booty

Peanut (something he also calls Logan)

Pookie/pookie bear

Sexiest person alive

Logan’s petnames for you are:

Darling

Sweetheart

That’s pretty much it as he’s not too overly worried about petnames, where as Wade has a thousand more up his sleeve that he pulls out of nowhere.

You and Wade would sometimes blatantly check out Logan whenever he’s shirtless and doing his one thing while you and Wade laid on the floor, feet kicking in the air as you both admired your hot partner. (Logan is very aware of what you two were doing but didn’t have it in him to say shit)

Dog pool is basically your, Logan and wades child and she is spoilt the fuck by the three of you for being the cutest dog you’ve ever seen. You dressed her up as Mary Poppins once for Halloween and now you have albums upon albums filled with pictures of dog pool in cute doggy costumes. This is her cannon event.

Logan has nightmares and would often act all cold and distant afterwards but you would gently grab his arm and pull him in for a comforting hug. ‘Don’t walk away,’ you said, ‘please we can figure this out together okay? You’ve been alone long enough, don’t for yourself to fall back into old habits when you’ve got two people who care deeply about you and want to see you okay.’ You add as you rub your hand up and down his back reassuringly until you manage to ease him back into bed and fall asleep on top of his chest so he doesn’t move.

You press kisses to Wade’s face and call him handsome, gorgeous, cutie, all sorts of names that have him feeling soft and fuzzy within his chest because he’s aware of how he looks, but you loved him unconditionally and would even help him with toupees and whatnot, though not before telling him that you find him attractive how he is and wouldn’t want him to change for anyone.

You got a lot of kisses and cuddles from him later because you had no right being that fucking cute!

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | part twenty-two preview

Five days. They're still here. You realize what's taking them so long; they're collecting food, drying meat into jerky and simmering wild strawberries into jams that Nereida cans. They have quite a lot of supplies with them. One of Kyle's backpack's is filled with ammo and another is stuffed with medicine. 

Kyle is easy to talk to. Nereida, too. Price—however—seems like he doesn't know what to think of you. Or maybe you're too insignificant to have crossed his mind much. 

That's fair. You don't need to all be friends.

Blue seems to like Ari. He's thirteen, two years older than her, which is evident in the way her head reaches his shoulders. She doesn't even say hi to you in the morning. Instead she shows him all her magazines and even the rabbits. He decides to name one Rocky, a friend for Grim. You can't be bothered; she needs another friend. Ghost isn't keen about them alone together, though. You heard him mutter to Kyle—keep an eye on him, Gaz.

The threat of summer starts to invite more and more sweat down your neck. Your hair has gotten so long. After tossing and turning on Ghost's bedroom floor, it became a nest of tangles. When Nereida, Ari, and Blue go for a dip in the pond, you go with them and soak it, then let the water settle so you can stare at your reflection. Blade sharpened, you saw a few inches off. Better. More practical. 

"I thought you were going to cut more," Blue comments.

"I don't want it that short, or else it's harder to braid."

As the two kids keep swimming, Nereida finds bunches of rosemary and seems more excited than you'd be about it. 

"It helps fight off odors," she explains when you ask. "Like when I have my period, so the Greys can't smell it as much."

When she puts it that way, you grab some, too. Then you start wondering about her and John. Do they have sex? They must. You've seen the way they are. Kisses to their shoulder and neck, arms around each other's waist. You've stared a few times only to catch yourself and quickly look away. How do they avoid pregnancy? You highly doubt either of them want to bring a new child into the world. You wouldn't.

Ari and Blue lay in the sun together. You scoot away to give them space, but overhear some of their conversation, anyway.

"Your dad is so cool."

Blue plays with a piece of her hair. "Oh? You think so?"

"Have you seen him? He's a beast. My uncle told me he got his name because no one could see him coming before he killed them."

"He can be a pain in my ass sometimes," Blue mutters. Her nose scrunches. "But he's taught me a lot of things. I'm pretty good with knives."

"Damn, I gotta see that."

She is beaming. "I'll show you when we get back."

Then, she leans over and whispers something in his ear. Whatever it is, he smiles and shakes his head in response.

She pulls away, sighing. "I wish you guys could just stay here."

Or maybe your dad will make us go with them, you think to yourself. In a way, it's comforting, that he is secretive with her, too. He still hasn't brought up the topic again. Either he hasn't decided, or he doesn't actually plan on keeping you updated. You try your best not to ruminate, but it's hard not to, especially when you have a hard time falling asleep on floorboards and are left with your thoughts in the dark. 

Which is why you're not feeling thrilled by the time you go into his room. He's already lying in bed, one hand bent behind his head while the other props open a book. He looks comfortable. Almost normal, even.

"How do you sleep with the mask on?" you remark, kicking off your shoes. 

His eyes lift from the page briefly. "Like a baby."

"How come Kyle has seen you without it and not me?"

His jaw flexes. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Twix."

"And mental sanity doesn't suit you."

A light huff. Then, "Nice haircut."

When the room is dark, Ghost must get tired of hearing you toss and turn. He flicks on the small lamp, and you squint from the sudden light, stuffing the pillow over your head. There's shuffling before a hand rips the pillow from your face and tosses it onto the bed.

"Just get in the fucking bed. I won't bite." The sight of him standing above you, sweatpants low on his hips, consumes your vision. His voice is low but demanding.

"What, together?"

"I want good sleep. M'not going to get it on the floor, or listening to you up all night, so get in." His eyes peer down at you, half-lidded, before he lowly adds, "I'll be a gentleman, if you're worried."

You lift up and ignore the offer of his hand. "I'm not worried."

To protest would be embarrassingly juvenile when both him and you know you want to sleep there. Yet—your heart thickens. He watches as you crawl into the bed where the ceiling slants, tucking yourself under the quilt and curling against the very edge so that your knees float over it. The springs groan to your left and then heady warmth spills over you. Ghost keeps to his side, flat on his back, with his hands lying on his chest. His elbow pokes into your back no matter how carefully you try to inch away, and his thigh just barely brushes against your backside. 

The bastard doesn't say a word, nor does he make an effort to give you more space so you screw your eyes shut and fall asleep to the sound of his breathing. 

[silverynight]

The long way home

Based on the mha final volume leaks. Contains spoilers

Angst with happy ending

It doesn't occur to Katsuki that he's losing Izuku until Kirishima says something that hurts him deep inside.

"It looks like Bakugo is getting rejected!" He says it as it's something funny because he has no idea how much it pains Katsuki to hear it; he doesn't know all the things the pro hero has realized at that exact moment.

Katsuki grips the steering wheel tighter until his knuckles turn white; nobody notices his distress because Izuku is in the back seat, and Kirishima is too busy looking at the young teacher who's blinking in confusion.

Izuku has always been quite dense when it comes to feelings, but Katsuki didn't know how bad it was until now.

"Huh?"

"He wants you to work at his hero agency, dude."

Kirishima is not wrong, but he's not exactly right either; Katsuki's offer is just another way to remind Izuku all the things they dreamed of as kids. They had always wanted to work together; kicking villain's asses side by side. But Katsuki also wants an excuse to see him every single day.

He hoped Izuku could understand that, but he either doesn't or maybe he simply refuses to acknowledge it.

Either way. It hurts.

"Alright." He mumbles then because he doesn't know what to say. Then, after a while, it occurs to him that his job offer could be interpreted another way. "Shit! Uhh... I didn't mean it like a sidekick! We can... it can be our agency if you want to."

Katsuki catches a glimpse of Izuku's smile through the rear view mirror, and he regrets looking at it in the first place because he's always loved that smile.

"Sorry, Kacchan, but I still want to be a teacher, so I don't think I'll have too much time for that."

He can't help but grimace at that, but he tries to focus on the road ahead.

"I understand," he says after a while.

Finally, Kirishima senses that something's wrong because he starts talking about the party.

Maybe he can have another opportunity later that night.

He sits as close to Izuku as possible and drinks as much as he does, leaning his body closer and closer, mostly because his childhood friend doesn't protest.

Katsuki is glad to see the other losers, he has missed them, and he knows he should try to spend more time with them because he hasn't seen them in ages, and he makes sure to see his nerd regularly, but he still wants to be with Izuku even more.

However, since he's constantly looking at the nerd closely, he notices that Izuku's eyes are focused elsewhere.

He's looking at Uraraka.

Katsuki feels a second stab of pain that night; his mind is a bit too clouded with alcohol to try to behave like a fucking adult so he does something the high-school version of himself would.

"Oi, nerd!"

"Huh?" Izuku blinks his pretty green eyes at him, and even though he's clearly distracted thinking about something else, Katsuki feels a bit better because he's no longer looking at Round cheeks.

"Keep your eyes on me."

"Oh, right!" Izuku mumbles, face turning slightly pink. "I'm sorry! We're you saying something?"

Katsuki wasn't saying anything, but he comes up with something on the spot because he can't stand Izuku paying too much attention to anyone that's not him.

After a few hours, Uraraka leaves first, and Katsuki feels a bit relieved until he notices that Izuku is looking at the entrance too.

"Someone special on your mind?" Aoyama gets closer to their table and puts a hand around Izuku's shoulders; he's a bit drunk too.

"Everyone is special to me!" Izuku says immediately, and even though Katsuki knows why he says that (he's always acting like a selfless idiot), this time, it pisses him off more than ever.

"That's like saying nobody is!" He hisses. "It's okay to have special people in your life, even though you always want to save everyone! I have someone special too!"

Izuku must know, he has to. Katsuki spent years working to buy that suit for him so they could be pro heroes together.

Ask me about it. Please. Let me tell you how special you are to me.

"I don't know, Kacchan... maybe you're right. But that's not how I see things at the moment."

"I can't take you home tonight," he says, only because he's bitter now. He regrets it almost immediately. "I... have to wake up early to meet with Edgeshot tomorrow."

"It's okay, Kacchan. I can take the bus."

When they're outside the stablishment, Katsuki is already thinking about telling Izuku he was wrong and that he won't have to see Edgeshot until the day after tomorrow, but Izuku is already walking away from him.

"I'll see if I can catch up with Uraraka! I have to tell her something important!"

That's when it hits him again, the sensation that he's losing Izuku.

When Katsuki goes back to his apartment, one that's too big for one person, he collapses on the couch and drinks even more. He tears up a bit, but that's something he won't ever tell anyone.

Katsuki narrows his eyes at the All Might statue that can be seen from the window, and he suddenly has the certainty that Izuku will reject his offer to live together, even though he fucking bought that apartment for him.

***

He finds out three days after that, and even though he was expecting it, it still hurts like fucking hell when Izuku tells him he's dating Uraraka now.

He doesn't know what to say, and frankly, he doesn't trust his voice at the moment, so he nods and drives Izuku to the UA as he usually does.

"Are you okay, Kacchan?"

Apparently he's doing a shitty job at hiding his true feeling because even the most oblivious person alive can tell there's something wrong with him.

Katsuki nods again, looking away from Izuku, as his friend gets out the car.

"You don't look fine, you should take the day off."

"I'm fucking amazing. Shut up."

"O-Okay, Kacchan." Izuku takes a few steps back, but he doesn't smile because he's clearly worried about him.

By noon he realizes the nerd was right after all; he should've taken the day off. He's so distracted he's making the same stupid mistakes an intern makes on their first day at work.

Since he can't risk civilian lives, he decides to go back to his fucking big apartment alone.

He knows Pinky would've told him that the best thing to cure heartbreak is time, that he should walk away, avoid contacting Izuku for a while, maybe go to another place for a few weeks and move on.

But Katsuki is not sure he can do that. He's spent most of his life wanting to be by Izuku's side, and even though in his dream they were more than friends, that doesn't mean he'll walk away just because Izuku doesn't love him the way he does.

But it fucking hurts.

It doesn't get better after a few weeks, but at least Katsuki learns to control his emotions better; he gets to teach a few things to Izuku's students, and see his nerd in action, wearing the suit Katsuki gave him.

When things like that happen, Katsuki almost forgets how painful his heartbeat gets sometimes.

But then Izuku talks about her. And it's not like he hates Round cheeks; she's a great hero and a reliable former classmate, but Katsuki can't help but feel awful every time the nerd mentions her name.

He doesn't hate her, but he really wants something she has.

Even though they don't have been dating for long, Katsuki's worst nightmare turns into an irrational fear and he wonders if it's too early to tell Izuku he doesn't want to go to his fucking wedding; he hasn't said anything about that, but Katsuki wants to make sure Izuku is aware that he doesn't want to go through that.

Whenever they hang out together, Izuku asks for relationship advice, and Katsuki almost laughs at the absurdity of the situation; he's sure Izuku has no idea how much he's hurting him.

He fucking tries to be mature abou it, but sometimes his old self takes control and says things Katsuki has promised to keep inside his head and his stupid broken heart.

"Break up with her."

"Kacchan! We only had a minor argument!"

Katsuki shrugs, like he's not dying to yell at Izuku for not noticing what's in front of him.

"I have no idea what you should do then. Why do you keep asking me? I don't have a clue how relationships work!"

"You haven't dated anyone?"

"No."

"Why not?" Izuku looks confused, and Katsuki wants nothing more than to throw his beer at him, so he stops looking stupidly cute when he's breaking his heart all over again.

Because the love of my life is in love with someone else, that's fucking why!

"Mind your own business."

"Right. Sorry, Kacchan!" Izuku pouts before Katsuki can look away. He feels bad immediately, and allows himself to take the nerd's hand for a moment.

"I just don't want to talk about it, alright?" He says, more kindly.

"It's okay, Kacchan."

***

At first, when he realizes what woke him up is his phone, Katsuki thinks it's something to do with a villain attack, but then he actually sees the screen, and the contact reads: Izuku.

He answers immediately, thinking something happened to him, but after a few seconds he figures out Izuku is fine; he just wants to talk to him.

It must be about Uraraka.

Katsuki is aware that he can tell Izuku it's his day off and he wants to fucking sleep for once, but he also knows that won't happen.

It doesn't matter what Izuku feels, he's still the love of Katsuki's life, and he'll always be there for him.

"Do you want me to pick you up?"

"No, but... can I go to your apartment?"

Katsuki agrees, and he's quickly hiding the picture of Izuku wearing his hero suit that he decided to print and put in a frame.

He makes coffee for himself and tea for the nerd; by the time he arrives there's a cup for him waiting on the counter.

"We decided to end things."

Katsuki is not prepared for the news, and he honestly thinks he's dreaming for a moment, until he notices that Izuku is not crying.

"Why?" He manages to ask, trying not to feel hopeful or let the relief he feels show on his face.

"We realized it was not what we truly wanted," he mumbles, looking down at his cup. "But we're still friends!"

"I'm glad," he doesn't mind to hide the sincerity in his voice. "So you came all the way here to tell me that?"

Izuku shakes his head, smile coming back to his lips; Katsuki missed that smile, he wonders why he hadn't seen it in a long time.

He wants to kiss that smile, but he doesn't move because he's afraid of ruining everything between them.

"I... Being with Uraraka made me realize a lot of things," he says, almost in a whisper, looking flustered. "I've spent so many years teaching and convincing myself that was what I truly wanted, that I started believing it. I just... I think I'm afraid of something else happening and forcing me to quit my dreams again. But I can't let fear stop me from doing something I wanted since I was a child. So, if there's still a place in your agency for me, I'd like to work there... with you."

Katsuki is tempted to pinch himself to make sure he's not dreaming, but instead he pulls Izuku into his arms, and breathes in his green curls.

"It's our agency. It has always been ours."

***

Working with the nerd has its many benefits, but it has a few drawbacks, like the fact that Katsuki can't stop himself from smiling like and idiot every time Izuku is around. His fans online have started to find his behavior suspicious, and there are so many pictures of him looking like a besotted idiot he thanks the forces of the universe that the nerd is not that active on social media.

His friends know what's going on, although he suspects Kirishima knew for a very long time, and they have tried to encourage him to confess. Even Uraraka has talked to him about it (she's dating a very good-looking woman now) and told him it was time to get his head off his ass.

But Katsuki doesn't want to ruin the amazing bond he has with Izuku now, even though he yearns for more.

He's thinking about this as they spend their day off at Katsuki's place, eating pizza and watching a very inaccurate All Might documentary. They like to point out all the things they got wrong about their mentor.

Suddenly, the smile on Izuku's face vanishes and he goes quiet for a moment.

"I want to tell you something important, Kacchan."

Katsuki grimaces immediately, thinking his nerd is about to tell him he's dating someone else.

"I think... I'm in love with you."

The words don't seem real, even though he knows they are, in his dreams, Izuku is always in his arms when he confesses, and in the others, he confesses first with a very intense kiss on the lips.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you. I... hope this doesn't ruin our friendship or makes it difficult to work together. I know you don't feel the same, but-"

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" He doesn't mean to yell, but the fact that Izuku is still oblivious is something Katsuki can't believe.

Izuku visibly recoils from him, and Katsuki feels like an asshole immediately.

"I still want to be your friend, Kacchan! I'm sorry if it made you mad!"

"Idiot," Katsuki says in the most kind, soft voice he's heard himself use to address someone else. It's ridiculous, and yet he knows he's going to be like this for the rest of his life, but he doesn't care. He pulls the nerd into his arms. "How could you not see that I've been in love with you this whole time?"

"Really?"

This time, Katsuki kisses him, and even though it's messy and desperate it feels like coming home after a long journey.

When they're lying on Katsuki's bed, facing each other, Izuku grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers together. Katsuki takes his eyes off a very nice mark he left on his nerd's neck, so he can look directly at him instead.

"Kacchan."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry it took me so long to... get home."

"It's alright," Katsuki pulls him into his arms again, feeling Izuku's hearbeat against his chest. "I wasn't going anywhere. I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be here for you."

"I love you too, Kacchan."

***

Patreon

[reigns-devotee]

Paring: Jey Uso x Fem!reader

Warnings: language, p in v, body fluids, smut smut and more smut, MINORS DNI

Summary: You hate him, but he hates you more, yet you're forced to share a hotel room together. Initially exchanging sharp words, you challenge one another, with each refusing to back down.

Word Count: 3,774

There was absolutely nothing in this world you hated more than Jey Uso. The man was cocky, full of himself, and always had an attitude that rubbed you the wrong way. His mere presence made your blood boil. The way he snarled his complaints didn’t help either.  

“You got life fucked up if you think I’m finna stay in here wit’ her ass,” Jey growled, shooting a sharp glare in your direction before turning to Roman.  

Roman, ever the Tribal Chief, placed a steadying hand on Jey’s shoulder, his voice calm but firm. “Jimmy’s with Naomi, Solo’s with me. So, I don’t know what to tell you, uce.” Roman shrugged slightly, his tone leaving no room for debate.  

Jey smacked his teeth in frustration, turning his attention back to Roman with a pleading look. “MMCHT, man, uce, just lemme stay wit’ y’all,” he begged, his frustration bubbling to the surface.  

Roman let out a slow, controlled breath and ran a hand through his hair, clearly at the end of his patience. “Ain’t no room for all three of us. Now, you gon’ stay here like I said. Fall in line.” His voice sharpened with authority, a clear demand that brooked no argument.  

You stood there quietly, arms crossed over your chest, knowing better than to defy Roman. The air felt heavy as he gave Jey a final pointed look before turning on his heel and leaving the room.  

The second the door clicked shut, you turned your full attention to Jey, your patience evaporating. With a sharp point of your finger, you jabbed the air toward him. “You’re sleeping on the fucking floor,” you hissed, walking past him to the bed as you kicked off your shoes.  

Jey scoffed at your command, folding his arms over his chest. “Got me fucked up,” he muttered under his breath.  

That was it. You wheeled around, stepping closer to him as your finger shot out again, this time nearly poking his chest. “Jey, I will fuck you up. Don’t test me,” you warned, your tone deadly serious.  

Instead of backing down, Jey chuckled, his amusement infuriating. “Whatchu gonna do? Smack me?” he taunted, leaning forward slightly as if daring you to make good on your threat.  

Your eyes rolled so hard they could’ve left your head. “What the fuck is your problem with me anyway?” you snapped, your voice dripping with sass.  

Jey squinted at you, his lips curling into a half-snarl. “Ion trust no girl like you in this bloodline,” he admitted, his arms crossing tighter over his chest.  

That made you laugh—loud, sharp, and bitter. “A girl like me? Ha! I can’t trust a mothafucka like you!” you shot back, yanking off your jacket and tossing it aside.  

Jey’s eyes never left you as he followed suit, shrugging off his own jacket and kicking off his shoes. The distance between you shrank as he stepped closer, his energy bold and unyielding.

You didn’t back down, not an inch. If Jey wanted to play this game, you were more than ready. Your eyes narrowed as the tension between you thickened, the air practically buzzing with your mutual irritation.

“Say what’s really on your chest, Jey,” you challenged, voice low but cutting. “You got somethin’ to say? Say it.”

He stepped closer, just enough to invade your space, his presence towering but not intimidating. “A’ight, I’ll say it,” he bit out, his eyes locking onto yours with a fire that mirrored your own. “You walk around here actin’ like you better than everybody. Like you don’t need nobody. That shit don’t sit right wit’ me.”

Your jaw tightened at his accusation, and a bitter laugh escaped your lips. “Acting better? Me?” you repeated, incredulous. “You got me twisted. If anybody around here’s actin’ like they too good for the rest of us, it’s you, Jey. Always got your nose in the air like your shit don’t stink.”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping an octave. “Ion know what your problem is, but I been watchin’ you, and I know you ain’t as tough as you act,” he said, his tone challenging. “You just puttin’ on a show, tryna hide somethin’.”

That hit a nerve, and you refused to let him see it. Instead, you stepped forward, your chest almost brushing his as you squared up. “And what makes you think you know me, huh?” you shot back, your voice razor-sharp. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, Jey.”

“Oh, I know enough,” he countered, his lips curling into a smirk that made your blood boil. “Like how you quick to pop off, but you ain’t really ‘bout it.”

“Try me,” you hissed, your eyes daring him to keep pushing.

For a moment, silence filled the space between you. The tension crackled like a live wire, both of you stubborn, neither willing to back down.

Then, Jey’s smirk widened, his grillz glistening, and he tilted his head slightly. “You cute when you mad, you know that?” he teased, his tone mocking but with an edge that made your heart skip for half a second before anger flushed through you again.

“Fuck you, Jey,” you spat, shoving his chest with both hands. It didn’t do much, but it got your point across.

“Careful,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous now. “You don’t wanna start somethin’ you can’t finish.”

You glared up at him, refusing to let him have the last word. “I finish what I start,” you shot back, voice steady, even if your heart was pounding.

Jey’s chuckle deepened, a sound that sent your irritation skyrocketing. “See, that’s your problem right there,” he said, leaning casually against the edge of the dresser, his cocky grin firmly in place. “You always gotta have the last word.”

Your hands balled into fists at your sides, the urge to throw something at him almost overwhelming. “And your problem is you never know when to shut up,” you snapped back, turning toward the bed.

“I’ll shut up when you stop actin’ like you run this shit,” Jey fired back, his tone sharper now. “But nah, you ain’t about to boss me around like I’m one of yo’ lil hoes.”

You whirled around, pointing a finger at him again. “Nobody’s tryin’ to boss you around, Jey,” you hissed. “I’m just telling you how it’s gonna be. You don’t like it? Tough.”

“Oh, it’s tough now?” he taunted, stepping forward again. “You real bold, talkin’ all that big shit.”

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as your anger threatened to boil over. “Maybe I am bold,” you shot back, stepping closer, refusing to be the one to back down. “But at least I’m not a bastard, hiding behind all this fake-ass tough shit.”

Jey’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Watch yo mouth,” he warned, his voice low and steady.

“Or what?” you challenged, your voice rising slightly. “You gonna hit me? Push me? You think I’m scared of you?”

He didn’t answer immediately, just stared at you like he was trying to figure you out. 

Jey’s silence was maddening, his intense stare burning into you as if daring you to keep going. You weren’t about to stop now, not when the tension between you felt like it was about to explode.

“What’s wrong, Jey?” you sneered, your tone dripping with mockery. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak, which only spurred you on further.

“Oh, I get it,” you continued, stepping even closer until there was barely a breath of space between you. “You’re all bark and no bite. Big bad Jey Uso can’t handle a little heat.”

His nostrils flared, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides, but still, he said nothing.

You smirked, feeling a surge of power. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you said, poking a finger into his chest. “Nothing but a—”

Before you could finish your sentence, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, holding it firmly. His grip wasn’t painful, but it was strong enough to make your breath hitch.

“You done?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

You yanked your wrist free, refusing to back down. “Not even close,” you snapped. “Whatchu  gonna do about it, huh? Just stand there like the big bastard you are?”

His eyes darkened, and his expression hardened. “Keep talkin’,” he warned, his voice like a growl.

You let out a bitter laugh, tilting your head defiantly. “Or what? You gonna keep pretending to be scary? Newsflash, Jey, you don’t intimidate me.”

The next moment happened so fast you barely had time to register it. Your hand flew out instinctively, and the sound of your palm meeting his cheek echoed in the room.

The slap wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it was enough to snap whatever control he had left.

Jey’s head snapped to the side, and when he turned back to you, his eyes were blazing. Before you could react, his hand shot out, wrapping around your throat—not tight enough to hurt but enough to make you gasp.

You barely had time to process the shock before his lips crashed into yours, rough and demanding. The sheer intensity of it sent a jolt through your entire body, and for a moment, you froze. Then, as if a dam had burst, you kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands grabbing at his shoulders to pull him closer.

Clothes became an afterthought as his hands yanked at your shirt, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. The tension that had been simmering between you for so long exploded into a fiery urgency that neither of you could contain.

“Jey,” you gasped against his lips, barely able to catch your breath as his mouth moved to your neck.

“Shut up,” he growled, his voice thick with desire, before pulling you back into another searing kiss.

“Fucking hate you,” you spat, your voice hoarse but sharp.

Jey pulled back just enough to look at you, that damn grin still plastered on his face. It was maddening. “Hate yo’ ass more,” he shot back, his eyes glinting with mischief and something darker—something raw.

Before you could react, his hands were on you again, rough but not unkind, pulling you closer until your bodies collided with the bed. His weight pinned you down, but you didn’t fight it. You didn’t want to. The energy between you was like fire, licking at your skin, making it impossible to do anything but give in.

You kissed him again, deeper this time, the passion growing with every passing second, until everything but the two of you faded away. The world outside the room might as well not have existed.

“Damn, you really got issues, huh?” he muttered against your lips, his voice low and gruff, like the sound of thunder before a storm.

You scoffed, your hands sliding down his chest, the heat between you both suffocating. “Maybe I do, but you’re not any better, Jey.”

His hands slid lower, cupping your ass and grinding his body against yours, making your pulse race. “I know,” he replied, his lips brushing over your jaw as he spoke. “But that’s what makes it fun.”

You rolled your eyes, still irritated by how easy it was for him to shift between antagonizing you and turning you on with a single move. “You’re insane,” you muttered, but the words didn’t have the same bite anymore. There was too much heat building between you both to hold onto the anger.

“I know,” he repeated, voice now hoarse, as his lips finally found their way back to yours, kissing you like it was the only thing that mattered. His hands were everywhere—grabbing, pulling, exploring, as if trying to strip away every layer of distance between you two.

You responded in kind, your nails raking down his back as your breath hitched, your chest pressing up against his. The tension that had built up over the last few moments felt like it might shatter you both.

“Still think you hate me?” he teased, his grin barely visible against your lips.

You could barely catch your breath, your voice trembling as you spoke. “I do,” you gasped, your hips rolling against his, making him grunt. “But it’s a hell of a lot harder to hate you when you’re making me feel this shit.”

His grin deepened at your admission, but he didn’t stop. His hands worked quickly to shed both of your clothes, the fabric tangling on the floor around you, leaving only skin and the rush of heated breaths between you.

His lips trailed down your body, worshiping every inch of you as you arched into him, a low moan escaping your lips. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, the sound low and guttural, sending a shock of anticipation straight through you.

“You better not be thinking of leaving any marks,” you warned, the words coming out sharper than you intended.

“Oh, I’m not gonna leave a mark,” he muttered with a grin, his voice dripping with sarcasm as his hands slid over your body once more. “I’m gonna leave you fucked up.”

You couldn’t help but smirk back, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you pulled him down for another kiss. “Try me,” you challenged, your heart pounding in your chest as his hands worked their magic on you.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear, his voice a growl that sent shivers down your spine. “You know you want this shit,” he murmured, the words laced with both challenge and desire. His lips brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a surge of heat coursing through you.

You let out a soft laugh, your lips curling into a grin as you looked up at him, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You probably want this shit more than me,” you teased, your voice dripping with playful defiance.

There was no amusement in his expression now—just raw hunger, pure and undeniable. Without breaking eye contact, his hips shifted, and he thrust into you, the movement brutal and unapologetic. You gasped, your breath hitching as the intensity of the moment hit you all at once.

He didn't say anything right away, but the way his gaze locked onto yours was enough. It was almost like he was daring you to keep teasing him, daring you to say something else, to push him further. His thrusts came faster now, deeper, harder, his hands gripping your sides as he drove into you with an intensity that made your body tremble.

You tried to fight back the need that surged within you, tried to maintain the sharp edge of your teasing, but it was getting harder with every relentless movement, every growl that vibrated from his chest. "this what you wanted?" he bit out, voice hoarse with the effort to control himself.

You swallowed hard, the words on the tip of your tongue but your breath coming out in a shaky laugh. "I don't know," you said, barely above a whisper, the teasing in your voice almost drowned out by the desperation building between you. "Maybe you the one who needs this more than I do."

Jey’s eyes flashed with something dangerous—something raw—as his grip tightened on your hips. His thrusts came harder, forcing you to gasp out his name. "Don’t act like you don’t need it too," he muttered between gritted teeth, his voice thick with the desire that both of you had been ignoring for far too long.

Your hands slid over his back, nails digging into the muscles of his shoulders as you arched into him, feeling the burn of every movement. “Keep going,” you breathed, your voice low and almost begging, though you refused to admit it. “Fuck, i need it.”

He grinned, that cocky, maddening grin you loved and hated all at once. “I know,” he replied, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he thrust into you once more, his body moving with a brutal rhythm.

Everything around you faded. There was no teasing anymore. No anger. No games. Just the heat, the intensity, and the way he moved against you, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. It was a rush, a storm that neither of you could stop now.

As your breaths quickened, as the pressure built in your body, the only thing that mattered was the overwhelming need to feel him, to surrender to the madness between you both. His pace quickened, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was desperate, hungry, as if neither of you could get enough.

You finished, the intensity of the moment crashing over you like a wave, your body still shuddering as you caught your breath. But Jey wasn’t finished. He let out a brutal chuckle, his chest heaving as he looked down at you, that cocky, triumphant grin still plastered on his face. The sound of his laughter—deep, mocking—was like fuel to the fire inside you.

You glared up at him, your body still tingling from the aftermath, but all you could think about was getting your revenge. He had pushed you to your limit, teased you, and you’d let him get away with it. But not anymore.

With a swift motion, you shoved him down onto his back, your strength surprising both of you as you straddled him, planting your hands on his chest to pin him down. He looked up at you, eyes widening slightly in surprise, but that smirk never faltered. "What the f-?" he growled, though there was something else in his voice now—something closer to challenge, as if daring you to do your worst.

Without another word, you positioned yourself over him, and before he could say another word, you took him—fast and hard—slamming your hips down against his with a ferocity that made his breath catch.

Jey’s eyes went wide for a moment, surprise flashing across his face before it twisted into something else—something desperate. His hands shot out, grabbing at your hips as he tried to find control again, but you weren’t giving him that luxury. You rode him harder, faster, keeping him pinned down with the full force of your body. Every movement was a blur of power and tension, your body demanding something from him—and from yourself—that you couldn’t ignore.

"FUCK!" Jey gasped, his voice strangled with disbelief as you pushed him to his limits. "Wait a damn minute—"

You cut him off before he could say another word, your movements quickening, a fire building in your chest. His grip on your hips tightened, and you could feel the way he tried to fight for control, but you were faster, smarter. His words died in his throat as your skills took over, “oh fuck!” pushing him into a state of mind where he could barely think, only feel.

You smirked down at him, your breath coming in sharp gasps as you set the pace, each movement deliberate, designed to make him forget everything except for you. The rhythm of your body against his was a perfect storm, a combination of frustration, power, and pure desire. Jey’s hands gripped at the sheets, his jaw clenched as he fought to hold onto whatever control he had left.

“Damn, you evil as fuck,” he muttered between breaths, his chest heaving beneath you, but the words barely registered to you now. You were focused entirely on the way he felt, on the way you were pushing him beyond his limits.

He finished with a loud groan, the sound raw and primal, reverberating through the room like a ripple of energy. His body tensed beneath you, his muscles locking as his breath became ragged. For a moment, everything was still. The air between you was thick with the aftermath, the weight of what had just happened settling over you both.

You stayed perched on top of him, your chest rising and falling as your own breath slowly began to steady. You could feel the heat of his skin against yours, the way his heartbeat still pounded beneath your palm, and for a moment, the tension between you softened, but not for long.

He let out a low chuckle, a sound that was a mixture of satisfaction and amusement, though there was a sharp edge to it. "You think you got me, huh?" he said, his voice hoarse and still heavy with the weight of what had just transpired.

You slid off him, standing up on shaky legs as your body still buzzed with the energy of everything that had just gone down. You moved slowly, almost deliberately, as you adjusted yourself, your eyes locked on his the whole time. There was no escaping the tension that still crackled in the air between you two.

"You think you can walk away like that?" he asked, propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes never leaving you. "Ain't no way you're done with me yet."

You smirked, tossing your hair back over your shoulder. You weren’t done—not even close. But you weren’t about to let him off that easy either. Slowly, you crawled back over to him, each movement calculated, deliberate, as your lips brushed against his ear, soft and teasing.

“Maybe I’m not done with you,” you murmured, your voice low and sultry. You let your fingers trace down his chest, watching his chest rise and fall as you made your way to his abdomen, feeling the tautness of his muscles beneath your touch. "But I think it's your turn to prove something to me now."

His eyes darkened as your hand moved lower, his breath hitching slightly as your fingers teased the skin just below his waist. "You think you can take control now?" he asked, his tone still laced with that challenge, but there was something else beneath it—something he didn’t quite try to hide.

You didn’t respond with words. Instead, you pressed your lips to his again, this time harder, deeper, demanding a response. His hands moved to your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you back on top of him, his movements fast and forceful as he flipped you over, pinning you beneath him with a growl that sent a shiver of anticipation through you.

And for a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. No words, no games—just the raw need, the desire, the way his body moved with yours in perfect sync. Each thrust, each kiss, pushed you closer to the edge, and you welcomed it, eager for whatever came next, knowing there would be no turning back.

[paperultra]

service with a smile!

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader Word Count: 1,726 words Warnings: Swearing, violence, verbally/physically abusive customer, reader has a brief panic attack

eccedentesiast (noun): someone who fakes a smile

It’s six-thirty in the evening at the Baratie. The customers are ravenous, the kitchen is in the weeds, and you’re wearing a snake-like trail into the floor of the restaurant delivering drinks and dishes when the sound of snapping fingers pricks your ears.

“Waiter!”

Twisting your neck around, you spot the man at table four waving you over.

You quickly make your way to him with a bright smile. “Yes? What can I do for you?”

The man gestures to the plate in front of him, disgust clear on his face. “I said I wanted my steak medium-well.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir,” you reply. Leaning over slightly to check, your eyebrows knit together as you stare at the slice of meat pushed to the edge of the plate. “… It seems to be medium-well, though?”

“No,” he snaps. Light glints sharply off the many rings on his fingers as he pointedly prods at the center of the slice with his knife. “It still has some pink in it, see? I can’t eat this.”

“Well, sir,” you mentally roll your eyes up to the ceiling, though your gaze remains attentive and apologetic, “Here in our restaurant, medium-well steak will still have a little bit of pink. We could bring it back to the kitchen and have it cooked until it’s well done, if you’d like. It’d take no more than five minutes.”

“I don’t like well done steak. It’s too dry.”

Oh, god.

“I see. Well, we could still bring it back to the kitchen and see what the cooks can do.”

The man clicks his tongue. “Fucking hell.” Sneering, he drops his steak knife and pushes the plate towards you. “Fine. Go. I’m not paying if you guys fuck it up again.”

“We’ll do our best.” Fuck you.

Nodding deferentially, you scoop up the plate and head off to the kitchen, smiling all the while.

“Carne!” you announce after you kick open the door, setting the steak on the pass and leaning over to catch the attention of the rotisseur. “Customer at table four says your steak is shit.”

“What?!”

“He wants it medium-well with no pink at all.” Carne swears and stomps over to fetch the steak. A slight movement in the corner catches your eye, and you look over at Sanji, who’s already looking at you as he pulls his suit jacket on. “Hey, chef.” A genuine grin stretches your face. “The old man kick you off the line again?”

“He slated my mixed paella,” Sanji replies, no small amount of irritation in his voice. It melts away quickly as he smirks and sends a wink your way. “But I’ll be seeing more of you out there, so maybe I should count my blessings.”

“There’s certainly one at table four right now.” Balancing three plates for table seven on one arm, you grab the fourth with your free hand.

Sanji hurries to hold the door open for you, frowning through the thank-you that flies from your mouth. “What else did they say?” he asks seriously. “Do they need to be kicked out?”

Despite the rush, your heart finds the time to skip a beat.

“Nah, not yet,” you assure. “Now hurry up!”

“[Y/n] –”

“Bye!”

As you pass him, your head held high, you hear Sanji sigh and chuckle in resignation.

You deliver the plates and check back with guests who have already gotten their food before returning to the kitchen. Table four’s well done medium-well steak with no pink is on the pass already when you go in, freshly garnished and by all appearances even more gorgeous than before.

Raising your eyebrows, you whistle. “Thanks, Carne! Love you!” you shout over the din of cooks before grabbing the plate.

“Kiss my ass!”

You laugh. One of the other waiters wishes you luck and pats your back as you exit.

You waste only a brief moment just outside the kitchen to take a deep breath and scan the restaurant. Sanji is at the far end, refilling waters and likely charming the eyelashes off a table of giggling young women. You’d kill to be on either side right now.

Closing your eyes, you recite the Baratie’s fourth employee guideline and then smile, stepping out into the dining area and walking over to table four.

The customer is God.

“Here you go, sir,” you say, placing the plate before him. “I’m sor –”

“This looks like shit.” The man hardly glances at the steak Carne had so painstakingly reprepared, choosing instead to glare at you. “I waited five whole minutes for this?”

The customer. Is. God.

Your teeth hurt. “Our rotisseur put in his best work to fix the mistake.”

“Well, he should be fired on the spot.”

“If you would just try it –”

The man suddenly slams his fist on the table and stands up, his face red, grabbing the attention of the surrounding guests as he throws the plate onto the ground.

“DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO, WAITER!”

His hairy, meaty hand seizes the collar of your uniform.

Your perfect smile slips off your face.

“Get your hand off of me.”

The man doesn’t listen. He raises his other fist and swings it at your mouth instead.

You pull him down and knee him in the face before he even realizes that you’ve dodged.

Crunch. Warm blood splatters over your carefully ironed slacks.

“Augh!”

The man’s hands fly up to his nose. You shove him face-down to the ground and press your knee into his back, yanking his head up by his hair.

“I asked you to taste your fucking steak,” you breathe, tightening your grip. “I didn’t ask you to FUCKING TOUCH ME. OKAY?”

His groan bubbles quietly through bloodied teeth.

Your ears ring. You’re cold and your head is numb and your heart is racing, and you’re breathing, but it feels like you’re not getting enough air. You don’t move a muscle.

Above you, muffled and buried underwater, someone calls out your name.

A hand rubs your back gently. Your name is murmured again, and you finally blink, slowly twisting around to look up at Sanji.

“I think he got the message, sweetheart. Come on. The old man’ll take care of the rest.”

He places his hand over yours, coaxing you to let go of the man’s hair. It hurts, but you do it, and Sanji helps you stand afterwards.

“Come on,” he whispers. “We’ll wash dishes together until you feel better.”

“You’re supposed to be waiting tables,” you mumble. Your mouth is dry.

“You know I hate doing that anyway.”

He tucks you underneath his arm. You push your face into the front of his suit and smell the traces of his last smoke break as he guides you to the kitchen.

Washing dishes is a ritual you’ve had since you were a kid. While Sanji’s punishments had been anything that prevented him from cooking or flirting, yours were limited to washing dishes. You loathed the chore, and Zeff took note and made sure to stick you at the sinks whenever you got into trouble. You’d curse and splash and generally be a pain in the ass to the rest of the kitchen, but you scrubbed the dishes pretty damn well, and within an hour or two your anger would fizzle out and you’d be back to your usual self.

Over time, the chore became something that grounded you whenever you weren’t feeling too hot. It kept your hands busy, and sometimes Sanji would join you to chat and complain until Zeff decided that the two of you were just a little too happy in his kitchen and kicked one or both of you out.

“Washing or drying?” Sanji asks. He had tossed his jacket somewhere while you were thinking and is now holding out an apron for you to take.

“Washing.” You slip the apron on and roll up your sleeves.

Nobody bothers you or Sanji as you start working. You use a generous amount of soap, let the water heat up until it almost scalds your skin, and scrub each plate and bowl and utensil and glass until they’re better than new. Then you hand it off to Sanji, who carefully dries each item and puts them aside.

Eventually, you find your voice again.

“Sorry you had to come over and get me. I thought I could handle it.”

“No, I should’ve been there before it got too bad. I’m sorry.” Sanji meets your eyes, and his gaze softens into something sad. “What happened?”

Your shrug is so small you almost don’t feel it. “I was fine when he was yelling at me. But when he grabbed me by the collar, I just – I dunno. It surprised me real bad.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No. Just wrinkled my shirt.” You bend your knee, feeling the stiffness of dried blood on your slacks, and pout. “And stained my pants.”

“He didn’t even land a hit, at the very least,” Sanji says. A corner of his mouth tilts up. “I’ve got to say, I’m quite impressed.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really? I impressed Black Leg Sanji by kneeing a customer in the face?”

“It’s the first time I’ve seen you fight a customer. You usually calm them right down.”

“Well, this one was a real shitbag. I’m surprised I haven’t had to do it sooner, to be honest.”

He shakes his head. “It shouldn’t be something you should ever have to do,” he tells you. “Not while I’m here. If I ever see that bastard again, I swear I’ll kill him.”

“My hero,” you say with a smile, kicking up one foot.

Sanji winks at you and, with towel and dish in hand, leans over slightly to kiss the side of your head. It’s an innocent and playful thing he’s started doing as of late, and it certainly has no underlying meaning whatsoever, so you make a show of scrunching up your face like you always do. You swear that your face only feels hot because of the steam.

“Until my dying breath,” he says softly.

Oh. It’s not so funny anymore.

You flick bubbles at him and resume washing the dishes. Sanji grins and resumes drying, and if you scoot closer until you feel his arm brush yours with every movement, well – that’s nobody’s business but yours.

[seancekitsch]

How about something with Vox and an assistant reader? I'm so excited your writing for Hazbin!

hehehe you have received: smut with fem reader

“I mean, do I have to hypnotize anyone if the marketing team is good? Darling, fire them all. Especially the ones I own. Make them squirm,” Vox talks, at you, not to you while you plug in the information on your V-Pad. 

“Just squirm or flounder too?” you ask, not looking up at him either. 

“Is that a fucking fish pun?” he turns on you, pushing his chair back from his desk. 

“A synonym, Sir.”

You tap the screen a few times, filling his request and adding a bit of your own to it. 

“Done. No severance package.”

You meet his gaze, smile toothy and wide. 

“Devious bitch,” he muses, smiling just as wide, “Come to Daddy.”

You set the tablet down at the table near the door, smoothing out your skirt as you start to strut across the office, essentially modeling the outfit Vox had gotten designed for you. But before you can make it even a quarter of the way, Vox stops you with a look.

Right, how could you forget? You kick off your stilettos, a flash of the red bottoms against the navy carpet and you sink to your hands and knees; slowly, seductively crawling towards the overlord at his desk. 

His screen glitches briefly, electrical current sparkling along the edges of him. He watches you fixated like a predator stalking his prey, yet you flourish under his scrutiny, proud and confident as your nails dig into the carpet and you make your way to the spot at his feet. Vox pats his lap, a silent invitation. There is no seat for you in this office, and thats on purpose. Vox always wants you on his lap, draped over him, straddling him, perched like a shiny trophy. Today you choose to straddle him, hiking up your skirt as you settle in facing him.

“Any panties?” He asks, and you roll your eyes.

“No point when I work for you,” you tease, settling yourself flush against him, bare against his lap. He’s already hard, because of course he is. When is Vox not hard if you’re in the room? It strokes your ego, the power you have over the overlord, the control you have over a powerful man.

“Seriously, where would I be without you?” he purrs, leaning in close and grabbing fistfuls of your ass.

“Hmm, probably struggling to keep your schedule?” you muse, nails raking down the front of his suit jacket.

Without warning, he lifts you, your legs wrapping around his hips like second nature at this point before he throws you unceremoniously down onto his desk, muscle memory stopping the back of your head from connecting to his keyboard. You’d learned that the hard way when this all started.

“Certainly wouldn’t be making a mess of my office,” he muses, his claws tracing down your front, teasing your cleavage and down your navel.

You reach for his belt buckle, making quick work of it.

“For the third time this week,” you say, always teasing him. Always pushing your boss’ buttons.

Vox hastily pushes your hands away, tugging his dress shirt out of his pants and undoing them enough to slide them down, his boxers coming with them. You gaze down at his cock, while fucking has become routine you’re always somewhat in awe of the size of him.

He’s quick to push your skirt up, bunching it around your waist without any care for the fabric. He’ll probably just buy you another one, so arch your back into his movements, letting him pull you into position while slots himself right where he needs to be. His eyes meet yours, screen bright and blinding. Sharp teeth in two identical smiles, and he pushes in.

You struggle to keep your eyes on his as you moan around the stretch, no matter how many times this happens it always catches your breath in your throat.

“Fffffuck yes,” Vox practically growls, voice modulator losing control as he bottoms out with your bodies fully connecting. He wastes no time setting a pace, hips snapping against yours, slightly upwards, hitting a truly amazing spot within you. You see stars, disoriented and already high on him him him.

Vox runs his claws along your hips, electrical currents running along your skin just strong enough to make your body twitch beneath him. His hands trail under your legs, hoisting them up against his chest to control you that much more as he leans over you.

“All mine, fuck, all mine,” Vox pants, speeding up his thrusts, rocking you further into the desk as his claws dig into your thighs to keep you flush against him. He grinds his pelvis into yours each time he bottoms out, sweet friction punctuated by featherlight sparks of electricity radiating from skin on skin. You nod eagerly, gritting your teeth, but that isn’t good enough for the CEO above you.

“Fuckin— say it! Say you’re mine,” he begs, his voice urgent and desperate.

“I’m— I’m—“

A moan cuts off anything you have to say, electrical pulses going straight to your cunt and frying your brain in the process.

“Gonna short circuit for me?” he teases now, and fuck he’s so confident. You’d like for once to have him writhing the way he does you. But your brain does indeed short circuit before you can dwell on that too much, your orgasm having snuck up on you, white hot intensity behind your eyes. You wail underneath him, your hands reaching out for his and prying his claws from your thighs. Instantly, he intertwines his fingers with yours, giving you stability as he fucks you through your orgasm. Vox groans as he spills into you only moments later, practically collapsing on top of you.

He stays there, with you folded in half, his length softening inside you, your fingers still tangled together.

“Can you say it now?” he asks, the edge of his screen resting against your shirt as it dims.

“I’m yours,” you confirm, “you needy prick.”

Vox laughs, loud and barking, and finally pushes himself off you. He’s incredibly gentle to pull out, to slowly unfold limbs and help you to sit up, letting you lean onto him.

“You know, I should really report you to HR for name calling,” Vox finally says, winking as he does.

It’s your turn to laugh, scoffing as you weakly slap at his chest.

“Right, and if you get me demoted I promise you that Peppermint couldn’t give you pussy half as good as this.”

Vox kisses you hard on the mouth, static crackling as screen touches lips.

Voxtech doesn’t even have an HR department.

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Pretty Saviour

Dick Grayson x Metalhead!Reader

wc: 1.2 K summary: You save Nightwing and Batman one night in a close call, being stuck with Dick forever warnings: fluff, none, no y/n used a/n: (divider), i know that pic is probably overused but i'm still weak for it.

Ever since you‘ve spontaniously patrolled a new route in your neighbourhood and miraciously saved Nightwing and Batman, that blue bird has been attached by your hip. It‘s not like he annoys you, but sometimes you start to prefer the black bat rather than the overly happy-sunshine vigilante.

Like now, talking your ears off about his favourite band he used to listen to in his angsty teenage years. You don‘t interrupt him, not wanting to make him feel bad about getting some small facts wrong since that band is the most mainstream rock band you have ever seen and heard.

To avoid his constant yapping, you‘ve tried to change your patrol route completely, but it‘s no use. He always finds you and claims it‘s just ‚a lucky coincidence‘.

In reality, Dick has been completely smitten over you from the moment he saw you effortlessly take down several men in front of him who were about to kick his ass. You saved Batman‘s ass too, but he refuses to acknowledge either that fact or you.

Eventually, he continues to talk on and on about that super-cool and ultra-heavy band, really just making you smirk in amusement. There is no need for music at work when you have a walking podcast following you around and helping you take down muggers together with insanely impressive acrobatic skills. You still wonder how his bones move like that, because there‘s no way a normal human being is capable of the same things he does.

But he is just as amazed by you at the same time, always staring as subtly as he can, wanting to take in every detail of your unique suit and accessories you wear with it. Yes, he never saw your face before, but he is in love. It‘s gotten to that point where even Alfred awaits you for dinner any day.

At the moment, he is crouching down beside you at the edge of the rooftop, keeping watch over a troublesome area in this part of the neighbourhood. He glances at you every so often, finally catching a glimpse of your ear under your shagged hair. Dick keeps his eyes on the shiny piercings, eyes widening once he spots the stretched earlobe. It‘s not much, but adds an even extremer look to everything else.

»Woah, you have stretched ears?«

You share a glance at him, tucking some hair behind your ear for him to see better.

»Just noticed?«

He gives you a goofy smile in return and reaches up to lightly touch it, admiring the plug you have in it. It‘s shiny in the moonlight, seeing the spiral design on it. Dick smiles softly at it, keeping his eyes on you while poking it gently.

»Cool.«

He sounds like an amazed child who sees the ninja turtles for the first time. It‘s amusing and also flattering to know that someone as big and strong thinks you are cool.

The patrols always have some kind of routine between the two of you. You both take a break at some point, making him discover another small detail about you and asking questions for the rest of the few hours. He has also learnt about the bands you listen to from your various pins and patches on your vest, listening to some of their songs once he gets back home. Just to expand his music taste and playlist, of course.

But he won‘t lie; he loves every single detail and fact about you, likes how casual you are when explaining new stuff to him, or gets into your element if he luckily asks you about an interesting topic. Like, the evolution of the emo and metal scene throughout the years. It‘s as if you get even more passionate talking about those than beating and locking up criminals.

Dick has learned a lot from you already, considering himself an expert at this point because of how detailed you explain certain topics and bands to him. Even his brothers know some stuff about certain bands because he can‘t stop talking about you around them. Every time you aren‘t around, he misses you a lot more than he‘d like. It‘s a shame you haven‘t exchanged any kind of socials or numbers because of your safety. This is one thing he is starting to hate every day more and more about you. The fact that he can‘t contact you in any way is humiliatingly sad.

And every once in a while, he gets you small gifts. Such as new pins of that one band you once mentioned to him, new ear plugs with a cool design, and silly stickers he knows you‘ll like.

You have a total of fifteen pins, four pairs of new gauges for your ears, and an endless amount of stickers because they‘re too easy to find. All from Dick, from the past month.

These gifts and the way he always listens and remembers details about your interests make you fall harder and harder for him. At first, you didn‘t really see the appeal of him. But now, hanging out with him unwillingly, has shown you just how cute and attentive he really is. You even got him a shirt of his own favourite band one day, and it seemed like he would drop down to one knee and propose at any moment. But he held himself back, he still has some self-control after all.

Once he noticed the new style in your hair, he really tried to think of ways on how to impress you in more ways than knowledge. He tried to convince Alfred to dye his hair blue, or at least get some stripes into it, but he refused, saying he shouldn‘t make impulsive decisions like that. But once Dick mentioned it‘s because you got these silly stripes and racoon tails in your hair, he teased him for the rest of the evening of his painfully obvious crush.

»I just like their style!«

»That‘s what you have been telling us for the past three months.«

And it went on with Dick showing you endless tricks and athletics, explaining the theory of each move and how to not break your neck while doing so. You are impressed by his skills, it feels like being children again, showing each other what cool stuff you know and are able to do, getting still impressed by the easiest and normal stuff.

You both go on bike rides together from time to time, competing sometimes as well. He is able to do wheelies, but that‘s a little too dangerous for you to copy.

Eventually, your friendship got really close after those three months of patrolling together and sharing knowledge with each other, of Dick making a fool of himself just to impress you in some way, and endless small gifts.

Despite everything, you‘re trying to keep it professional with him some way. But it doesn‘t help when he is using every single opportunity to touch or stay close to you. It‘s not like you are complaining, you secretly enjoy him being more touchy and sweet to you. You mostly mask it with being playful and pretending to not get the subtle hints he is dropping at you.

There‘s still some sort of trust you have to gain from him in order for you to reveal your identity to him, even when he is smart enough to find it out himself. But he won‘t do it, both in respect towards you and in hopes you will actually trust him enough some time to reveal yourself.

←MASTERLIST

a/n: an open ending, how original. anyway, hope you enjoyed it!!

[kingkat12]

long legs (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: mentions of sex, foul language, roman is an ass as always

summary: you should've known better before you started dating the CEO of Godfrey Industries-- obviously.

word count: 3,335 PART 2: here!

Have you ever felt like you're stuck in an eternal revolving door, and then suddenly you're standing still? That was my life right now; I was standing still with Roman. We had only gone out on a few dates, sure— but I couldn't help but feel that something was different this time. This was a guy I felt like I could finally settle with. Four hour long conversations could feel like fifteen minutes, and the fact that he was the CEO of his own company also added on as a bonus; my life with him would be a life of comfort. Amazing sex and comfort.

I let out a satisfied sigh as my friends and I finally got up from our dinner table; dinner was good, life was good, my relationship was good. What was there not to like? We continued exchanging jokes at the expense of some girl we suddenly remembered from high school, reminiscing, and I had to take a step back; I couldn't believe how amazing my life was at the moment.

As I felt one of my friends nudge me, I blushed, letting out a nervous laugh as I realized I had disconnected from the previous conversation. "Sorry, girls, I've just been so swept up with Roman—"

"Yeah, we know," One of my girlfriends grabbed my shoulders, spinning me around so that I was facing the other end of the restaurant. "But isn't that him?"

They were right; at the other end of the restaurant, sat Roman. With a woman with legs for days. Laughing. I froze, not knowing what to say or do— he hadn't noticed me yet and was probably not going to, by the rate he was checking out the woman in front of him. 

"Come on, let's go," said another friend, taking my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "He's not worth it, really."

I hated the pity in her voice. I hated everything about this. But me being me, I knew I had to either let it slide or retaliate— and obviously, I'd choose the latter.

I got out of my friend's grip, making my way over to his table with confident strides, shaking off the shock in my system. I watched as Roman's green, charming eyes suddenly found me, rounding out. It was clear that he was trying to save face as he suddenly broke out into a slight chuckle, looking rather intrigued as I approached.

I smiled politely, now standing in front of him. "Roman, what a surprise!" I did my best to sound as casual possible and not like my heart was being kicked and spat at. 

"Surprise indeed!" he said, smiling right back up at me with no shame. "This is Cynthia, by the way." 

Had we not been in public, I would've hit his head with my purse. Instead, being the calm and collected woman I masked myself to be for now, I turned to Cynthia, shaking her hand as we got introduced. I wanted nothing more than to run away and wash my hands. 

With a cool demeanour, I turned to Roman; "Could we talk?"

He cleared his throat, clearly not too happy about the interruption. "Sure," he mumbled, sending Cynthia a charming smile as he got up, following me a few steps away from the table.

"What's this?" I said, letting my smile fall just a smidge. "A date?"

Roman cocked his head to the side, scanning me. "Sure is,"

"... You said you had a business thing,"

"A dinner thing,"

"Oh, is that right?" I took a proper look at him; suited up, hair styled back, smelling like his usual date-cologne. Had this been any other instance, I would've jumped him already. However, there was nothing I wanted more than to smack him and run away crying. "So how many women are you dating, exactly?"

Roman shrugged; "In the tristate area?"

My jaw fell, shocked. I knew we weren't exclusive and I tried to remind myself of that, but I had my pride to protect. If I would date anyone else right now, it would feel like stuffing an already packed luggage— I didn't want to, nor could I. So how could he?

Roman sighed, glancing back at his date before turning back to me, putting a patronizing hand on my shoulder; "Look, I'm a little busy, but I'll give you a call. Alright?"

Angered, I smacked his hand off of me. I refused to be treated this way. "Call all you want, but don't expect an answer. Good night, Roman," I took a sharp turn on my heel, my eye twitching as I held back the urge to burst into tears. 

As I reached my friends again, I was immediately embraced as we left the restaurant together. 

"He looked shellshocked, my God!" one of them said. "What did you tell him?"

I sniffled; "Not to call me anymore. I'm not going to deal with this bullshit,"

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

My phone had rung about seventeen times and I was itching to answer. I laid in my bed that same night, a small tear rolling down my cheek; why did I always do this to myself? Why did I get so swept up in every man I met? I tried to make myself feel better by concluding I wasn't like this with every man— Roman was an exception. Roman was different.

But Roman was also an ass.

I groaned, watching another call come in. I had enough of this. Deciding to take action, I finally answered his eighteenth call; "Roman, I am only answering to tell you to stop calling!—"

"Just hear me out!" he said. "Just... Just hear me out, okay? Could you do that for me?" 

Groaning, I buried my face in my pillow, going quiet as I put my phone on speaker next to me. 

My silence told him everything he needed. "Look, I didn't know you thought we were exclusive. I should've gotten that cleared up, perhaps—"

"I thought that was obvious," I grumbled into my pillow.

A sigh; "Maybe it was. And maybe I'm just about the biggest jerk in Pennsylvania. Anyway, I'm calling to say sorry. I really thought you were dating other people as well,"

I lifted my head up from the pillow. "And that wouldn't bother you?" I pondered out loud. "If I went out with someone else?"

This is where Roman went quiet. "Well, it's not the most pleasant thought... I suppose I've dulled it down by seeing other people,"

Somehow, I didn't buy it. "Did you sleep with them?"

"Who?"

"All the women with stupidly long legs in the tristate area,"

I heard a loud sigh on the other end; "I thought you were sleeping with others too,"

"Yeah, right," I sat up in my bed, taking the phone off speaker mode and pressing it up against my ear. "This is not how I roll, Roman, and you know this. If you need loose girls to sleep with, have your pick at anyone else, I don't care. I was dead serious about you, about us, and you just... Yeah, screw you. Have a nice life."

I heard him protest as I finally ended the call, burying my face back into my pillow, muffling a scream. 

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The next night, I had decided to go out and bury my mind in whatever cheap alcohol I could find. I stepped away from my friends at the party, making my way back to the bar for the third time tonight, not dull enough for my liking yet. 

Sighing, I sat down at the bar, ordering the usual. I hoped that the next drink would drown out all thoughts of Roman Godfrey, his green eyes, the image of him between my legs, and the image of Cynthia and her legs. I should've listened to my friends when they said he only dated models— why had he even looked at me in the first place, bothered me by entering my life and just existed in my vicinity? 

Asshole.

As I finally got my drink, bringing it up to my lips, the man next to me spoke up; "I don't think you should have another one of those,"

Turning to face him, I wondered where I had seen him before. "... Peter?"

I remembered Peter from the time we interned at the law firm together. He quit a while ago, but not before he had managed to kiss the life out of me in the elevator that one evening. A bright smile spread across my face as I put my drink down, embracing him. "Oh, Peter, it's so nice to see you!"

Peter, dressed in black as usual, beamed right back at me, his hand resting on my back. "I've been wondering if it was you all night," he said, pulling away from the hug with a chuckle. "You look good."

I did a little twirl, giggling— maybe the alcohol was finally getting to me, after all. "You think?"

Amused, Peter nodded; "As always,"

I sat down on my chair with a satisfied sigh. "I can't believe you're back in Pennsylvania," I said, taking a sip of my drink. "What brings you back?"

"Nothing special, really," Peter gave me a look, but didn't say anything about the fact that I was continuing to drink. "Just nice to take a trip back home. To see a familiar face in the crowd. You'll get it once you get out of here, yourself." 

I shook my head; "I'm not moving,"

"Why not?"

"I don't know," I used to have a good reason before I caught Roman with Ms. Long Legs. "I'm doing good at the firm. And guys here are prettier than in any other state I've been in."

Peter chuckled, rolling his eyes; "I see you're still single,"

His words made my heart sink. "It seems I am," I took a rather big sip of my drink, hating that I was right back to square one again. "I thought I'd be in a different place by now, I suppose. I don't get what I'm doing wrong."

Peter moved closer, giving me a sigh of empathy. "You always go for the bad guys," he mumbled. "The unavailable ones. Am I right, or was this only when you were an intern?"

Embarrassed, I nodded; "I guess," 

Peter watched as I took another sip of my drink, finally getting enough of it; he put his hand over mine, gently forcing the drink back down on the table, his hand lingering on top of mine. "I'm a nice guy,"

My eyes widened, finally meeting his gaze. Was this going the way I thought this was going? I watched his pupils expand, the brown in his eyes shimmering with hope. "Give me a chance," Peter said. "Us. The chance we should've had all those years ago."

I held my breath-- I wanted to give in, relent.

"Come to my place tonight," he continued, his thumb stroking over my knuckles. "Let me treat you right, for once."

I was so close to giving in, saying yes and settling for something good for my soul. However, my heart was screaming— I couldn't do this while I was still crazy about Roman fucking Godfrey, the biggest asshole on the planet. The asshole who got me flowers before every date, brought me coffee to my work when he was free, gave me the best orgasm I had ever had in my life in the back of a cab, and bought me a fucking Birkin when he went to Venice. 

"I—" I suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe. This was Peter; I didn't want to hurt the sweetest guy I had ever known. Before I could give him an answer, I needed an answer for myself; "Hold that thought, Peter, I'll be right back."

I got up, making my way to the outskirts of the party with hurried steps. Finally drunk enough for this stunt, I pulled my phone out of my pocket, dialling the guy I had sworn to myself I would never call again; "Roman?"

I didn't have to see him to know he was smirking. "Hey you,"

Beaming at the sound of his voice, I felt the hurt in my soul being mended by the second. I had craved this all day, every minute, every second. However, I knew I had to pull myself together. "I'm just calling to let you know I'm going home with someone else tonight,"

"... Are you drunk?"

I huffed, offended despite the correct guess. "Am not!" 

"So this loud music is just something you play in your room at three in the morning?"

I had to do everything in my power to not hit myself. "I'm calling to say that you screwed up,"

A sigh; "Where are you?"

Grimacing, I wondered why he wanted that information. There was no way in hell I'd give it to him, anyways. "His name is Peter. He's super sweet, we used to work together, and he doesn't need me to have long, model legs,"

"... I like your legs,"

I rolled my eyes; of course he'd say that. 

"Quite frankly, I miss your legs... dearly,"

Doing my best to not become a puddle of mush on the floor, I had to shake my head to come to my senses. "Well, good luck missing them, because they'll never be anywhere near you again!"

Roman got silent at the end of the phone, clearly moving around wherever he was at the moment. "I'm coming. Where are you?"

I glanced back at the party, scanning my surrounding. To be frank, I wasn't so sure. "Somewhere near Clifford Park," My eyes widened-- had I just blurted that out?

"Clifford Park," he echoed. I heard the jangling of keys and the shuffling of what I could only deduct were jackets. "Meet me at the front gate."

"No, I'm leaving with Peter," I said, sticking to my plan despite how hard my heart was beating at the thought of Roman racing to meet me.

"Yeah, sure you are," I heard a door close on the other end. "Fifteen minutes. Be there."

Realizing he had ended the call, I did a small jump of glee before pulling myself together. It suddenly dawned on me what I had roped myself into.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

It hit me that I was in Clifford Park at half past four in the morning. Having waited nearly half an hour, leaving the party behind, I started feeling more and more like a fool. Why had I agreed to this? Peter was definitely right; I always went for the wrong guys.

I was about to leave and get a cab until I saw a familiar silhouette in a long, dark coat nearing me. 

"This is not the front gate," Roman said, walking towards me like he didn't have a care in the world, hands tucked into his pockets. His voice had a hint of frustration, which only made me further upset.

"It is!" I said, wrapping myself further up in my jacket. "This is the front gate!"

"No, this is the back,"

"It isn't!" I let out a big huff, my eyes narrowing as he finally caught up to me, his face illuminated by the lamp we were standing under. The hues of orange and black complimented him, the green in his eyes practically sparkling. 

Despite being breathless by the sight of him, my angered pride simmered in my chest; "I have been waiting for you for half an hour,"

Roman let out a groan, clearly frustrated as well; "I came about fifteen minutes ago, spent ten minutes waiting for you at the front gate, and then finally came all the way around here after having an unexpected jog in hopes of not finding you killed on the curb,"

Taken aback, I shut down the upcoming trail of curses. He had... worried about me? "Why are you here?" I finally asked. "Why did you come?"

Roman ran his fingers through his hair as he sighed. I was pleasantly surprised to see him like this— hair not styled, dressed in casual wear, lips parted as he tried to find the right words. "There's been a big misunderstanding,"

"Clearly,"

Roman nodded to himself, his gaze falling down to his feet. "I thought this was casual,"

This was not what I wanted to hear. Still a little drunk, I started to turn around, ready to walk away from him. I didn't have the energy to waste any more time on him than I already had. 

However, Roman simply followed; "And where do you think you're going in those heels?"

"Anywhere," I mumbled. "I don't want to hear this again."

"You're not even going to hear me out?" he said, a hint of a whine in his voice. "After I came to see you at half past four in the morning in a random park? How often do you think I do this, huh?"

I stopped, feeling my feet ache from the heels. He had a point. I turned around with a hardened gaze, meeting his, my heart beating hard in my chest. 

Roman took my silence as a means for him to speak; "Look, I'll come clean. I've been going out with others, sleeping with others, and I've been doing it to dull down the ache I get when I think of you doing the same,"

I blinked twice. "That doesn't make any sense,"

"Yeah... maybe it doesn't," Roman sighed, biting the inside of his cheek. "I'm just used to the girls I'm dating still... dating others, I suppose. I couldn't even bring myself to think you'd be different about it, I just thought that this was how the world worked. Like, imagine I ask for exclusivity and you just... run?"

"I wouldn't run," I took in his every word, not meeting his eyes anymore. I couldn't look at him when he looked so pretty. "I thought I was clear that you were the only one for me.”

There was a twinge of hurt on display in Roman's eyes; "I thought that was just something you told everyone..."

Sighing, I couldn't believe the conversation we were having. How was it possible for such a successful man to be so unsuccessful in his deductions? "And the flowers? Is that also something you give everyone?"

"No,"

"Who else did you bring coffee to while they were at work?"

"No one,"

I finally looked back up at him, my pulse rising as a sliver of hope returned to my body. Why should I believe him? God, how I wanted to.

Roman took a step towards me; "You think my position at my company allows me to run coffee errands everywhere?"

I shrugged— I had no idea.

"You think it's easy to get a Birkin, let alone multiple?"

Embarrassed, I looked away again. I didn't need him to know how little I knew about Birkins. 

Roman sighed, running his hand through his soft, brown hair once more. "I've been driving myself crazy about you, y'know? Have you ever had the feeling that you've been... Fuck, I don't know how to properly explain, but like... have you ever felt like you're in an eternal revolving door and then suddenly you're standing still?"

My head turned to him as though I had heard a gunshot. "I have,"

Roman put his hands back in his pockets, chewing his lip. It was clear that he was anxious— I hadn't seen him like this before. Ever. "I'm so tired of running. I'm so tired of others. I just... want to stand still. With you,"

I bit down my growing smile. This was all I had ever wanted to hear. "Even when it's half past four and the standing takes place at Clifford Park?"

Roman let out a slight chuckle; "Especially when it's in Clifford Park,"

"The best place in the world," I said, feeling remnants of happy tears start to poke through my exterior. "Definitely not the third most dangerous park in the state."

"Yeah, fuck," Roman broke out into a smile, his laugh being pure music to my ears. "Let's stand still somewhere else. What do you say about standing still outside the coffee shop until it opens?"

Suddenly, I didn't feel so doomed anymore. I didn't need to start from square one again-- this was it. We both knew it now. "Sounds good,"

Roman hummed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as we started our stride. He leaned down to press a kiss against the top of my head; "I missed you. I don't ever want to miss you again,"

link to part two here<3

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

#17 Waking up alone and getting up to urge the other to come back to bed with Harvey Specter please 🙌🏼

the way you write Harvey is just pure perfection 🤌🏼 thank you :D

Sorry this took so long!

Warnings: Nothing, just fluff

You expect to cuddle up to Harvey when you roll over, but as you smooth your hand up, you find cool sheets where you'd expected his warm chest. You blink hazily, rousing fully from sleep as you look around the dark bedroom. You don't see the light on in the en suite bathroom, so he isn't in there. You push yourself up just a little, peering at the small space between the door and floor, and puff out a sigh when you see light there.

Damnit. Again?

You push your covers aside, swinging your legs out and stepping into your slippers, groggily walking over to your bedroom door. Harvey is on his couch with a short stack of documents on the coffee table, sifting through them beneath the cast of the floor lamp behind him. He glances up at the shushing of your slippers, frowning as he turns back to the document.

"You alright?" He asks.

"Fine."

"Why are you up?"

"I came out to ask you the same thing." You walk around behind the couch, peering over his shoulder. "You should be sleeping."

"I'll be there in a minute."

"...Would you like to try that again without lying to either of us?"

You don't wilt at the unamused look he cut you over his shoulder. You just raised your brows, tipping your head to the side as you waited patiently for his answer. He pushed a sigh out through his nose as he turned back to his work.

"Go back to bed."

"'I'm not going back without you." You lean closer, looping your arms around his shoulders. "You need your sleep, Harvey. You can't kick ass at work if you're asleep and drooling on your desk."

You felt his shoulders shift slightly with a laugh.

"I don't drool."

"My point stands."

"...Five minutes," He promises. You consider for a moment, then nod.

"Five minutes," You agree. You turn your head, pecking his cheek before you straighten up. "Start the clock, mister."

--

You watch the glaring red display of the clock on your bedside table, biting the inside of your cheek as another minute ticks by. He's got one more minute—

Your heart ticks up in your throat as you hear Harvey's footsteps. The covers lift and the bed dips as he climbs into bed beside you, and you grin as you feel his arm curl around your middle, drawing you back against his chest. You reach down, taking hold of his hand and intertwining your fingers. Harvey draws in a deep breath, pressing a tender kiss to the nape of your neck.

"Thank you, baby," He murmurs, the buzz of it tickling your skin.

"Anytime, handsome."

[serxinns]

Yandere Older class 1a x Deadpool reader

You were a goofy sarcastic playful hero who always made jokes while brutally punching villains in the face while doing wacky and wild stuff saying the most unhinged stuff with a smile on your face and your Fans and Most pro heroes love that about you

Iida was always with you not because you were dead gorgeous and your fighting skills were amazing but because he's worried about you! You pulling these dangerous stunts makes him have a heart attack whenever he peacefully wants to see the news he sees you teasing and taunting a very dangerous and very deadly villian riling them up to the point where they just slash at anything to get you to stop your yapping, next thing you know he's grabbing his hero suit and running over there right now he always scold you for being u safe while you just either laugh it off do those cringey "I'm sowwy🥺" look iida pretends to be cringe out about but deep down he thinks your pouty face and puppy eyes are cute,

Bonus: both you and Iida's fans agree that Iida was the Dad friend and make those complications video of him being one

Bakugo wants you to depend on him and look up to him he always wants you to be by his side whenever you work with him, but you being a little shit makes his job way harder, you always making fun little jokes and uncanny comedic lines while the two of you are literally in a life and death situation while you're just singing nursery rhymes, He always yells at you to be serious and all you did was say "uh oh cranky pants need a sippy cup?" He chased you around that day and seeing that cute little cheeky face of yours made him blush he always acts like he doesn't wanna work with you but in truth, he stalks your schedule and demands his agency to work close to yours but he won't admit that even the fans kinda see that he cares for you and loved you and himself dynamic

Momo is the worried mother if you ever get hurt by a nasty villain she's beating that villain to a pulp heck even making the dude see the clouds, she always is very protective of you like a mother hen making sure you eat, sleep brush your teeth she always tell you to while you whined like a child, if you didn't bring your lunch don't worry she brought a little bento box for you!, whenever your merch comes out or before she's always the 1st one to get it. She even has a room dedicated to it (just like Izuku but we'll get to him) literally she and Izuku would have a battle about who got the rarest merch and expensive merch

Ochako is like your number 1 biggest fan she always knows your schedule as well so she can either watch you from afar and if you needed any help she'll be there to kick their asses!, she's like Pucca (if you know the childhood show congrats) she always watching you dreamily eyes fluttering but strong and dangerous if anyone messes with you, she's is always in her dream world imagining carrying you like a little princess and she's the knight although she's also ok with you holding her like that as well both ways make her blush and giggles and kicking her feet while floating up, she makes fanfiction of you x reader or her under a fake username ofc so she can write down all her fantasies (some of your classmates would follow that page secretly) she keeps an oversized merch t-shirt that you wrote an autograph

While Izuku may be all Might's number one fan who said he can't be yours as well? Like this dude knows it all has 4-6 pages of you, your quirk, your weapons, your personality, your likes and dislikes, your family, your address-, you name it! He doesn't even need to write down your schedule since he remembers it so easily dude has a great memory there's no denying it, whenever his fans scream all over him wondering what's his favorite hero everyone is so surprised when he mutters out you heck he's shy whenever he talks to you your his idol his darling his sweetie standing in front of him happily making jokes and laughing along or badass shooting and slashing any bad guys, as mentioned in mom's headcanon this boy got a WHOLE ROOM dedicated to you heck one time you jokingly put a dick shape drawing when he asked to Have a autograph he bought a photo case for that and put it on display like he's PROUD

Sero and Denki were your go-to when wanting to cause trouble and Crack some jokes heck all even flirt with each other trying to see who gets the most flustered denki craves whatever attention you give him whether trying to annoy him or not he loves it when you eyes are on him he may act like a carefree person who jokes with you but he's a possessive dude he glares at your fangirls from afar when they're squealing all over you trying to get a autograph calling you hot that made his blood boil that he had to intervene by saying there's a villain waving goodbye at the girls while their squealing got louder seeing Denki but Denki glared at them Sero is the calmer one but is Obsessive he loves everything about you whenever your close to him on the outside he as cool as a cat but inside he's dying screaming on the inside just wanting to hold you close he always ask for any sort of physical interaction like high fives, hugs, he even remembered you patting him on the back praising him for wrapping up the villains luckily someone recorded it and now he saves that in his phone watching it repeatedly over and over again also he keeps those spiderman x Deadpool comics

Jirou and Kiri are like Sero but she acts more like a soft tsundere while Kiri acts like a love-sick puppy following you around and worshipping you head to toe. She acts cool and tough around you but if you compliment her she turns red and hits you to shut up just like Izuku she's too shy to speak to you and always lets you do the talking while she doesn't pay attention just hearing your voice makes her trapped in a dazed smiling dreamily she just couldn't help it You were so adorable even under that mask she wants to cup her hands on your cheeks and give you the biggest kisses leaving you a hot flushed mess kiri on the other hand worships you like a God, he always rants to his friend teru about you and even works together with bakugo at times talking to him about you the two of them will rant on about how cool you are (mostly Him and bakugo just listens) he will invite you to spar with him and if he ever accidentally hurts you he feels so bad and apologies to you even tho you didn't even show any anger or sadness but he thinks you do but all you did was laugh saying how strong he was making the number 4 hero blush and crumble right there he always used to complimenting you on your skills body and even your muscles but you complimenting him!? It's like a kid getting a gold star for their behavior! After sparing he always buys you his favorite drink which you teased him about while he looked annoyed with your teasing he actually likes it and when you promise to stop he mentally whines wanting you to do more!