#fuck it! that's part of my canon now. thank you oh my God

[peaches2217]

A wedding dress idea that Princess Peach would absolutely adore, especially if she had the freedom to design it herself. Considering Bowser would never have given her the opportunity to select her own dress, this design reflects her unique tastes and style preferences.

Peach's dress is a stunning creation inspired by the shape of a peach. The outfit features a dark pink, strapless, sleeveless ball gown adorned with subtle sparkles that catch the light beautifully. The gown's voluminous petticoat is a lighter shade of pink, adding a touch of whimsy and elegance. The opera gloves she wears are a delicate baby pink, fading into pastel hues with soft spot patterns gracing the upper portion. Her sparkling heels perfectly match the gown.The gown itself boasts charming mushroom-patterned spots. She accessories with two sapphire earrings that gleam with every turn of her head and a diamond necklace that rests elegantly on her collarbone.Peach completes her look with a dark pink, mushroom-shaped hat, featuring a delicate veil that cascades gracefully behind her. Her hair is styled in an updo bun, keeping it tastefully off her shoulders and allowing the details of her gown and accessories to shine. Light makeup enhances her natural beauty. It's a fantastically feminine outfit that allows Peach to express her personal style and sense of royal elegance.

((Welp that was a lot of words 😅))

Forget everything I previously said, this is perfect

My friend you are a visionary

[neonovember]

Oh my GOD oh my for okay though that new fic you wrote with Carmy? 12/10 chefs kiss mwah mwah MWAH!! 💕💕💕 That part with Carmy going ballistic and beating the shit out of that asshole customer I LOVED it!! Now it’s got me thinking of Carmen going absolutely feral, just insane if he’s in the kitchen cooking and calling orders, while you’re out front taking orders from customers. He and the rest of the kitchen just go silent and stop in their tracks when they hear a guy just screaming at the top of his lungs at you, using the absolute most vile words against you and Carmen just sees red, especially if whoever it is ups and yells something along the lines of “You stupid fucking whore-“ and Carmen’s just a blur as he POUNCES on this guy. (Richie’s either cheering him on or trying with all his strength to claw Carmen off before he straight up kills the guy)

Office Doors

Oooh you guys are spoiling me rotten with these requests…I love a good feral fic every once in a while and this one was..well you'll know what i'm talking about once you've read it ;) I haven't written Carmen in a day and I miss him already, school has been up my ass so if you have sent me a request, don't worry it's being written, and re-written and-. Thank you anon for getting my gears going and your lovely messages 🥰🥺 ur support means the world

warnings: swearing, objectification and misogyny, angst, oral (f recieving), smut, thigh riding (?), porn with plot, feral!carmen

carmen berzatto x reader!

(This is totally and completely canon btw)

You stretch your body across the diner tables, dipping a dirty cloth into lukewarm soapy water before rinsing it out. The lunch rush had just slowed to a even pace, the sound of Carmen yelling out dishes from his line finally quieting down.

You have just a little time to spare, and you spent that time quickly wiping down the Beef’s tables that had begun to accumulate a few too many stains and unfinished crumbs of bread.

You had grown up in a home that was always messy, all the time. And no matter how much times you had asked, and no matter how much times you had just done the chores themselves, the clutter of dirty dishes and old wet clothes in the laundry had permanently been embedded into your family home.

It’s partially why you had loved the sterile laboratory of you culinary kitchens. Clutter caused your skin to itch with anxiety, it made you feel dirty, and with the way you scrub the diner tables a little too hard you wonder if it's another one of the many joy’s your family had given you.

And whilst the Beef was so different from your environment back in culinary school, it wasn’t necessarily worse. In fact, you had grown to fall in love with the quirks of the kitchen, the ‘fuck you carmen’ napkin holder, the too small walkway, the framed pictures of beloved regulars and the staff’s families. Most of all, however, was the family you had built here, the kind you couldn't find working under a domineering CDC.

The kind that had always been waiting for you, been planted deep into the earth like roots.

Besides, you and Carmen had bonded together during the late nights after most of the family had gone home. Were you both were left, scrubbing the floor together in a rhythmic silence that seemed to be more therapeutic than work.

You’ve nearly finished wiping down the last of the stools perched against the counter top of the front when a loud guffawing causes you to break your trance-like state.

Jovial yelling breaks into the rarely quiet restaurant as the door swings open, and a stream of rowdy men dressed in pullovers and fleece jackets, with scarves and basketball hats of distinct sport team colours wrapped around their necks.

One man is fully decked out, sporting the jersey and beanie of what seemed to be a hockey team. The boom of his voice indicates he was the loudest too, unaware of the grumble of patrons around the restaurant that had grown annoyed at the man's violent rambling.

You breath out a sigh, finishing off wiping down the bar stools and putting the bucket of dirty water under the front counter. Before ironing out any creases in your apron and preparing yourself for the absolute headache this would cause.

They were a familiar bunch, usually coming in after games late after the dinner rush. It seemed there was a game during the early morning, as they grumble about not having anything to eat the entire day.

Their loud and annoying and swear too much and Carmen hates the way one of them looks at you but they order a shit ton of food and fuck if the bear needs money, what can you say.

Your eyes glance at a cup of coffee Richie had accidently left under the register, and you suddenly crave your afternoon pick me up well after the afternoon. The men begin walking up to the register, ignoring your polite greeting and going straight into listing off items from the menu as if you were a machine. You nod along all the words they were saying, and soon enough you give up on writing it down as they’ve practically ordered the entire menu safe for a few appetiser's. 

“Make it quick, yeah? We’re bloody starving '' One of the men calls out from his seated position in one of the booths and you give them a tight lipped smile, resisting the urge to throw that coffee mug at him. 

Carmen peeks his head from the entryway leading to the kitchen, his unruly ashy blonde curls falling to the sides as he shares a look with you,  as if to say ‘you alright? And you nod in that unspoken way the two of you have and tell him that you can handle it. Working in a kitchen didn't have to teach you how to deal with assholes, you had your family to thank for that one again.

You hear the familiar sound of Carmen shouting out orders, and the sizzle of pans and boiling pots increase in order to push out the lengthy order before more foot traffic would pour in. 

You’re trying to fix the register when it happens, something gets caught in the old janky machine, causing the cash drawer to get stuck as you have to hit its sides at a certain angle to get it to open up again. Years and Carmen refuses to get it fixed, or buy a new one all together, resorting to having it taped up and banged every couple hours to get it working again.

You almost don’t see him, until he is leaning against the counter, into the space between the cash register and you, a greasy smile pulling at his features and he watches you. You bite back a grimace at the way his eyes trail down your apron, fixated on the dip of skin that peeks from the top of your shirt.

“Something you need Sir?” You ask politely, taking a tentative step back, your hand gripping the edge of the counter.

The man smiles strangely at your comment, cocking his head to the side before replying suggestively

“I definitely want something”

You cough, biting back your knee-jerk response to hurl at him, you can feel the burn of embarrassment against your cheeks and you swallow as you try to reply with a steady response.

“You’re food will be out in a short-while-” 

“You know, I think I’ve seen you around here, are you new to town?” The man tries to strike up a conversation

“Came here a few years ago and haven’t left since” You reply with a tight smile

“Ah! I know where you're from exactly now” The man replies with a grin that pulls his face upwards, it's eerie, his smile, like he knows something he shouldn't.

“There’s this porn star online, looks exactly like you, it’s kind of insane” The man replies with a smile that deepens as you stammer

You feel humiliated as you stare back at him, you don’t know what to say, and his eyes continue trailing down your body in a way that makes you feel disgustingly objectified. He’s reduced you to an object for him to gawk at, and you see the way the men behind him jeer and laugh that this is all a play to intimidate you.

You want to run straight home and scrub yourself clean, wash away the feeling of his imprinted gaze down the drain.

“You think we can recreate one of her videos when you get off work here?” The man replies, a glint in his eyes.

“What? You- you” You stammer and he breaks out into a laugh

“Awh, look at her, fucking shaking. Don’t tell me this is your first time?” The man eggs on to his friends, who have begun laughing and cheering him on.

You grit your teeth, trying to get the words out as you glance towards the kitchen, where was he? He leg twitches in want, wanting to get Carmen, wanting to run from the restaurants, wanting to run from the embarrassment and disgust you felt.

The flashes of Richie and Syd passing by is all you can see, the booming voice of Carmen being too wrapped up in the orders to notice what was happening.

“C'mon, just give me your number” The man presses on, leaning in so that only you can hear “It isn't like I don't know where you work” Before he leans back, muttering a halfhearted kidding under his breath

“You are disgusting” You spit out, trying to sound as confident as you can, and the mans eyebrow twitches, and he cocks his head like he was confused.

“What? I’m doing you a favour here, I'm actually a nice guy you know? Not one of those assholes on the street” The man scoffs, moving closer towards you and you have a feeling the man is waiting for a reason to lunge at you.

“Just, just take your food and your buddies and go alright? There doesn’t have to be a fight or-or” You continue, trying to de-escalate the situation and get him to just leave you the fuck alone.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m doing you a fucking favour and now your kicking me out?” The man begins to get heated, and his friends behind him watch on in silence, you can notice other customers begin to look your way, sensing the rising anger filling the room. You slowly step back, looking for something to shield yourself in case he comes at you.

“What, you think because you work you have some- some what, control? I don't think you know how this works doll, you give me your number, and I dump my load in you because your nothing but a stupid fucking whore” The man bellow, it’s so loud that it echoes through the Beef, that it reaches even the kitchen sinks where Manny is washing up. 

The man’s face grows red as the veins near his neck begin to pop out, he emphasises the last word, spitting it out like that was all you were.

The restaurant goes silent as the man heaves in exertion, the sound of Carmen shooting out orders is mute now, the slice of steel against bamboo stops, and the bear is fucking quite for the first time since it opened. 

Your body is pushed against the wall, near the swinging doors into the Kitchen, and you can see Carmen back to you, he has stopped cutting at his station, and the outline of muscle contracts under his white shirt.

Carmen turns, slowly, he turns to the family, as they all momentarily stop their tasks in shock at what they had just heard. He begins to chuckle a little to himself, as he replies in a quiet voice you and the man can still hear.

“What did he just say?” 

“Did he really say that? Did he really?” Carmen laughs to himself, nodding and gripping his hands into tight fists as the restaurant air gets thin. The man who had been screaming at you looks towards Carmen in confused fear, not knowing why this man was laughing and yet understanding he had completely fucked up.

The rest of the patrons can hear Carmen’s words, eyes widening, as they realise they were about to be collateral to a very one sided beat down. The crew looked at Carmen in silence, they had been used to Carmen's hot-headed temper, his bursts of anger that was more passion than rage. But this? This quiet silence of Carmen’s words, the way his chest heaves as you glances at your frightened position against the wall? They genuinely feared what he would do next, a silent rage like no other begins to envelop the restaurant, the air thin and suffocating as Carmen begins to walk through the kitchen and into the front counter.

“Don’t call an ambulance this time” Carmen mutters to Richie as he passes him by, Carmen’s eyes are fixed on you, trailing down your body before fixating on the shake of your hands. Carmen knows you well, and it’s the clench of your throat, like you're suffocating, like you can’t breath that snaps something in Carmen.

A malevolence Carmen has never felt spills into his gut, the burn of anger spreading against his chest until hes practically shaking with it, he is filled with this heart ache, like his heart is split in two and gushing as he realises his been cutting fucking chives whilst you nearly died. 

And something predatory fills Carmen, like he must prove to himself he can protect you, and in one swift move, like muscle memory etched into his bones, Carmen jumps over the front counter and swings his fist in one clean motion, knocking the man across the room.

The man’s body crumbles as he slams into the hardwood floor of the Beef, the immediate groan of twisted pain and pleads leave the man's mouth and Carmen is just so sick of his goddamn voice. 

It all went quiet then, the noise of Sydney yelling, of his friends, of the man’s heaving wet coughs, the air conditioner, all white noise. Carmen’s hand reaches for his ankle, dragging him back from his crawling escape.

“Oh, no no no, we’re not escaping now are we?” Carmen grunts, his voice lower than it usually is.

Carmen  wraps an arm around his throat, holding him there as he brings down his fist across his face. The wet sound of bones crunching into muscle and skin go on forever, bouncing across the room until the throaty heave of the man is all that is left of him. Carmen cannot stop the swing of his fists, something possesses him and as one of the men in hockey colours tries to grab Carmen arm he throws him back into the stack of barstool's piled near the tables. He is facing his back to you again, and you state, fixated on how his body moves to support him, the contracts and outline of his strong back, his large forearms that break bone with a mere swing.

His face swollen beyond recognition, piss and blood leaking from him, eyes bloodshot and awry. 

Carmen picks him up by his collar, the smudge of blood dripping down and staining his vest, whispering into his ear as the man’s eyes widen in harrowed fear.

“Apologise”

“..Whatnhn?” The man mumbles, the feel of his tongue swelling up and going numb, Carmen presses a hand against the man's bruised stomach, pushing  against the broken bone of his ribs until the Man wails in agony. 

“Apologise to her or I swear to god I’m breaking your fucking legs” 

The man spits out an apology, but you’re not looking at him, staring transfixed at Carmen,  at the way he’s golden curls fall across his eyebrows, at the way his muscles flex against his white shirt, at the way droplets of blood are splattered across the skin of his jaw. Carmen looks towards you, and something dark takes over his cerulean blues, blowing them out.

“Do you accept? Huh honey?”

You nod, letting an exhale out and Carmen tosses the man to a pile on the floor, reaching for your hand and dragging you to the office, you can hear the scatter of shoes as the men drag their friend out of the beef, and the crew looks towards each other in satisfaction, but also in knowing, in knowing they wouldn't dare open those office doors.

The soft glow of the office is a stark difference to the bright light of the front counter, and you have to blink a couple times for your eyes to adjust, and when you do Carmen’s face is inches from you, leaning you against the office doors, his arm above your head.

The soft glow of the office is a stark difference to the bright light of the front counter, and you have to blink a couple times for your eyes to adjust, and when you do Carmen’s face is inches from you, leaning you against the office doors, his arm above your head.

“You didn't- didn’t have to” You mumble, your voice caught in your throat for a different reason.

Carmen looks down at you, shaking his head in amusement

“Don’t lie to me, you enjoyed that more than I did” Carmen whispers, leaning down near your ear, pressing his nose against the curve of your neck.

You let out a breathless sigh, and Carmen groans as he smells that familiar  vanilla always hinted on your skin Carmen could smell when you passed by you. Now, now, he can practically taste it right on his tongue.

The truth was, you did enjoy it, despite being non confrontational and cringing every time Richie would show you a fight where the crunch of bone on gravel makes you shudder, you were transfixed by Carmen. 

By the way he broke the man to a heaving mess with just his fuckinf fists, those same arms that are edging closer and closer to you, how would they feel between your thighs? The thought wraps itself tight in your belly, and you have to squeeze your thighs for friction.

No one had done that to you, no one had done that for you, and in a strange way it felt nice to be protected. To be wanted, and it causes a need to start building deep within you. 

Carmen's eyes fall to you, and his eyebrow twitches as a look of guilt washes over his features.

“I should’ve been there, I- fuck, did he do anything? Let me get a look at you” Carmen replies softly, grabbing your wrists to look for any bruises he feared you had.

“I’m fine, just a little, uhm, shaken up you know? Said some pretty horrible things” You reply, scratching at your neck as your mind replays the way he had reduced you to a thing.

Carmen shakes his head, his teeth grinding as he grips his fists, his biceps flexing. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with that, deal with people like fucking him, I swear to god if I find him on the street I’m gonna-“

“Gonna what? Finish off the job? There is always going to be guys like him, that isn’t going to change, and it’s something I have to deal with. But what I can’t deal with is if you get yourself thrown into a jail cell because of-of me” You reply, shaking your head and Carmen looks at you like he’s in love.

Gripping a hand to your chin, Carmen raises it so that you catch the burn of his cerulean blues as you can see.

“And That would be an honourable death for me” Carmen mutters, and you can’t take your eyes off him, until you're gripping his blood stain shirt tight against your chest until the suppression groans leaving his mouth are kissed into your neck.

You want him, want to taste him on your tongue, want to feel his weight against it. 

“Fuckin come here” Carmen groans out, reaching to wrap his hand around your jaw as he presses his lips against your own. The muffled of your moans escape your lips and Carmen slips his tongue between them. 

His pillowy soft lips wrap around your own, his nose bumping into your cheek as he wraps an arm around your back, pushing you against the office doors. It’s all teeth and tongue, the clash of teeth and muffled groans leaving the both of you. 

The suppression of both your desires falling between you two until you don’t stop to come up for air. 

It’s addicting the way he kisses you, and you have to grip his shoulder as an anchor as he begins to trail his lips down your neck, sucking and nibbling at the skin there before dipping down to your clavicle. 

You let out a moan as he blows cold air against the dip of your breasts, and Carmen looks down at you, his eyes heavy as he watches the way you shiver, waiting for him to give you what you want.

Carmen rips open your shirt, his eyes trailing across the curve and dip of your breasts, he mutters something under his breath, something like “beautiful” as his finger trailing the lace before unclipping it and tossing it behind him. 

Carmen cups one of your breasts, circling your nipple before wrapping his lips around it and sucking, you arch your back to him, and he follows it until he rests and your hip, squeezing the skin there as his eyes roll back at the taste of you.

“Please..” You groan out, your eyes watching the way Carmen pressing soft circles into your skin, he looks up at you in confusion, the hint of a smile curving at his lips.

“Please what?” Carmen replies, sucking bruises beneath your tits, drawing it out on purpose, having too much fun watching you suffer.

“Nmfha” You mumble incoherently when Carmen flicks his tongue around your nipple, whilst squeezing the other in his cold hands.

“I can’t hear you, what do you want?” Carmen replies with a hint of a moan, he’s having trouble himself, bucking his hips up into you as he watches the way you shake from his lips

“Wanna feel you Carm, wanna taste you” You groan out with a moan, Carmen grunts at your response, his eyes growing dark and heavy, and in one swift move, he hoist you up and swipes the coffee mugs and papers left scattered across his desk before placing you on the edge.

You spread your thighs, making room for him and he steps between them. 

“You wanna feel me sweet girl? You want me to take care of you? Please let me take care of you” Carmen pleads, rutting up against you as he tries to suppress the want pressing tight against his jeans.

“Carm” you groan out as Carmen tugs your jeans down leaving you in your lace underwear that Carmen grinds his jaw at, you don’t realise it but Carmen blue apron is discarded somewhere in the room, and as he carries you towards the coach you tug at his white shirt. 

He rips it off him in one move, and you drag your fingers across the deep of defined muscle that flexes under your touch.

Carmen moves your thighs so that you're pushed towards the edge of the couch, and he kneels between you, pressing a soft kiss to your knee, before trailing up your thighs. Carmen had been teasing you before but now there is a frantic eagerness in the way he touches you, like if he doesn’t taste you on his tongue he might combust.

Carmen hooks a finger into your underwear,pulling them down until you were bare for him. Carmen’s eyes glisten as he states at you, naked under him and sweating. God the image imprints in his mind and he wishes he can stay here forever.

Carmen presses a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, and your thighs shake in need, Carmen flicks his eyes up to you, and keeps eye contact, as he licks one long strip across your folds, closing his eyes and he groans at the taste of you. You contort you back at the pleasure the waves through you, eyes rolling back at the pressure of his tongue sucking your clit.

“Fucking- taste so” Carmen mumbles, before dipping his tongue between your folds, dragging it up and down, the sound of your heightened moans ripping through him. 

Dipping his tongue in your hole, Carmen pushes a finger between your thighs, presses soft circles around your clit as his tongue works your folds. Your thighs shake around the curls of his head and he pushes a hand down at your stomach to stop you from moving, making you take every wave of pleasure he pulls from you.

“Carm, please, they’re going to hear us” You groan out, and Carmen shakes his head, causing his tongue to drive deeper into you, before looking up at you, 

“Let them” 

Carmen stretches you out with his tongue, pushing it into you and out until your heaving, his thumb is pressed against your clit, and he pushes a finger into you before sucking onto your bud. 

You begin to see flashes of stars, as he thrusts a finger into your hole whilst sucking you, he scissors you open, curving his finger in a way that hits a particular spot that has you raising your hips, trying to pull yourself off of him, the white hot burn of pleasure getting too much.

“There baby? Right there?” Carmen groans out, thrusting his finger to hit that spot over and over

Carmen grips your hips, pushing you down, deeper, harder onto his mouth and fingers, pressing a second digit into you as he curves it to pull that sweet moan from your lips.

Carmen had many names, but his favourite was the broken syllabus of his own between your lips when you fell apart on his tongue.

“S’ close, so close Carmy, please” You babble out, before resigning yourself to the burn of pleasure the feels like fucking nirvana, it’s all around you, Carmen, this pleasure, it’s all you can taste.

“I know baby, I know, I’m going to take care of you okay, sweet girl?” Carmen groans, thrusting his hips into the floor, searching for friction as he watches the way your eyes roll back.

Carmen laps at your core, pushing the digits deeper, curving them upwards until you were screaming, he pushes your face down to look at him, he wants to see your face as you fall apart, and the coil that has begun to wrap itself tight snaps when he nibbles at your over sensitive clit and you see the way his dark eyes watch you, his eyebrows furrowed and your slick coats his chin.

You can’t feel anything but the white hot pleasure that rocks through you, you aren’t in your body, floating away in the pure saccharine pleasure of Carmen’s tongue and he laps at the pleasure dripping between your folds. 

You mumble incoherent words, the only thing leaving your lips is Carmen’s name as you babble, spit dripping from your open mouth as you're left in a heap, Carmen leaving you dumb.

Carmen works you through your release, licking and sucking at your sweet slick that he gathers on his tongue. You see the way he thrusts into the carpet, trying to find friction as the scene in front of him becomes too much.

The thought splits something within you, seeing how Carmen got off to getting you off was out of this world, causing the pleasure to start building in your core again. 

You drag Carmen up to meet your lips, and then push his tongue between your lips, causing you to taste him on your tongue. Carmen pushes his finger between his lips, sucking on the shine of slick coated there, his eyes heavy as he watches the way you grind your hips against him. 

He pushes his digits into your mouth, groaning at the way you suck on them eagerly. You push him to lean his back against the coach, before manoeuvring your hips to straddle him.

You rock your hips against his jeans, feeling the way the indent pushes and bumps against your core, Carmen throws his head back, his curls falling over his forehead and he grabs your hips, pushing you deeper, down down down until he is thrusting up into you.

You grip his shoulders raising your hips before pulling his jeans and boxers down in one swift motion. Carmen forces himself to look down at you, his gaze watching the way you tug at his length, swiping a thumb across the red tip, dragging pre cum down the thick girth of him.

Carmen groans out, gripping your hips tight, and you raise up, lining yourself perfectly before sinking down on him.

Carmen’s groans are beautiful, rumbling from his chests as he squeezes his eyes shut, you fit so perfectly around him, the heat and warmth and slick of you wrapped tight around his cock. His length is thick and girth, and you have to adjust to his size, moaning at the way he fills you up just right.

As you begin to move, Carmen presses a hand, begging for you to wait

“Just, one second, fuck you feel so good I might cum from one thrust” 

“Who says this is a one time thing?” You reply with a wicked smile, and Carmen groans loud at that.

You raise your hips, dragging your self on him before sliding down, your grind against him and he heaves in the pleasure of your tightness around him. 

It had been so long, and the feeling of you is almost too much. 

You struggle to raise your hips high enough, and Carmen wraps his hands tight around your hips before raising you himself, driving himself up into you and thrusting hard.

This new angle allows him to go deeper, and you meet his upward thrusts, groaning out as he fucks you dumb. You look gorgeous above him, the way your tits bounce with every thrust up has him hard all over again.

“Just like that baby girl, keep going, doing so fucking well, my baby” Carmen groans out, and you begin to shake at the combination of his praise the the feeling of his cock driving into you impossibly deep.

You want to make him feel good and you say this to him, causing his eyes to roll back when you squeeze yourself around him, hard, until his thrusts have to drive into you even harder.

The coach freaks loudly from Carmen’s pace, and he slams you down, positioning his cock deep into you, causing you to press half circles into your shoulder, scratching at his biceps and gripping the nape of his hair that causes him to rumble out your moaned name.

You can feel him getting close, his thrust growing sloppy and deep, you tighten around him, and his eyes are in a trance, watching the way you fit around him so perfectly.

Carmen moves to fold himself upright against you, and your eyes roll back to your head as you feel yourself climb up a familiar peak.

Carmen presses a hard kiss against your lips as you groan out, and as he slips a hand into your conjoined bodies, circling your clit you have to shove your fist into your hand to stop from screaming.

The feel of Carmen’s length driving into you and the sound of his ragged moans, mixed with the over stimulation against your clit, you can’t help but fall apart around his cock.

You squeeze yourself tight around Carmen, and he cries out, his thrusts growing slow as he joins you over the cliff, his cock thrusting up into you with spasms. His cheeks are a blush red, his tongue poking out as he follows both of your orgasms.

You fall against his chest, exhausted, pressing your cheek so that it rested against the hard muscle of his pecs. You swallow back a breath, gripping your hand around Carmen’s, as he brings it up to place a soft kiss. 

Your thighs are still shaking from stimulation, and Carmen caresses a hand across them, rubbing soft circles and you lay across his chest.

You stay like this for a moment, basking in the bliss of pleasure and sex and the soft curves and dips of your bodies.

After a bit, Carmen has to slip his out cock from your thighs, eyes fixated on the way your ecstasy mixed with his one drips down your thighs.

“Fucking gorgeous” Carmen replies, and you look up at him in surprise

“What? You don’t think I'll find you gorgeous after this?” Carmen smiles down at your flustered state, he brushes back the sweat and tears dripping down your cheeks.

“That was..you are. Well fuck, Carmen, why didn’t this happen sooner?” You reply, he manoeuvres you so that your legs lay across his thighs.

“Yeah, uh, we’ll I’ve got a whole bucket of shit you don’t want dragging you down” Carmen replies scratching his neck, suddenly more shy as he lay his heart bare to you.

“Yeah, we’ll you gave me no choice when you practically murdered that man” You reply, biting back a smile, as you press soft circles around his thumb.

“Should’ve fucking murdered him…”

“What happens now?” Carmen replies, looking at you nervous that this was you just scratching an itch, because he was head over heels in love with you and he would never recover

“God Carmen, you didn’t realise I’m in love with you already?” You reply with a smile, “Practically the entire restaurant does” 

Carmen looks up at you in wonder, his eyebrows furrowing as your words hit him hard. You loved him? You loved him. He wants you to repeat it a hundred times, he wants to hear your tongue say those words to him again.

“You are incomparable” Carmen mutters under his breath, before wrapping you tight against his chest, pressing a kiss that feels different now, less crazed and rushed and fueled by heated passion. It was new, it felt like a start of something.

“You think they’re okay out there?” You reply with a start.

“Hell no” Carmen replies, and you can’t help but laugh as you push your head through a shirt Carmen had passed to you.

You and Carm may have just confessed your love to one another, but you still had a goddamn restaurant to run.

[darkenedurge]

𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐭.

.

CONTENT : Fem/Elf Tav | Subby Rolan, but then he gets a little more confident muahaha | Tail Play | Heated Make-Outs | Messy Confession | Fingering (F Receiving) | P in V Sex | Rip Lorroakan (fuck that bitch) | Creampiiieee 🥧 | Tiefling Tail Head-Canons (ofc)

A/N : i’ve been wanting to write rolan for so long idk why it took me forever but AGH here we are i <3 tieflings

.

Rolan's head is reeling. Thoughts, realisations, spinning within the cavern of his skull. Lorroakan, gone. And, he owes thanks yet again to his 'valiant' hero. To which, he raises his head – lips, parting to speak.

Yet, not even a breath escapes him – not before he's barrelling backward into a bookshelf, hands grasping at his robes, and lips upon his own. Her lips. The lips he'd dreamed of for so long, lips he'd yearned for – yet so painfully denied himself.

Her tongue isn't patient, as impatient as she, winding its way into his mouth with a soft noise of satisfaction. In turn, he whines, hands reaching to grapple at any part of her he could blindly reach – clawing at her hips, drawing her nearer.

She rolls her hips into his, arousal coiling within his abdomen, and he has to muster all that he has to break for air – instantaneous in his mourning at the loss of her lips, her taste.

"What are you.. doing..?" Is all he can manage, in a panted breath, a string of saliva still connecting them – his gaze, hazy with desire, as he peers at her through half-lidded eyes.

"Something I should've done a long time ago," She replies, blunt, simple. Her hand brushes a strand of hair back, away from his face, touch uncharacteristically gentle in comparison to what he'd just witnessed – "I really like you, Rolan."

He almost laughs. In fact, no, he does laugh – a small, quiet huff of amusement. "I think we've established that," He quips, snarky as ever, "But for what it's worth, I like you too. A lot."

A brief pause. His eyes dart from corner to corner. Flitting between bloodshed, books and..

Her companions are nowhere to be found. To that, he internally, mentally, breathes a loud, genuine sigh of relief. She notices, a coy smile playing at her lips, her fingers dipping beneath his robes – fingertips cold, against the harshness of his warmth, bumping over the ridges that decorated his skin. Rolan feels a shiver crawl up his spine, eyes fluttering to a momentary close, as a shaking, uneven breath ghosts past his lips.

“So, are we going to finish what we started?” Comes her voice, Gods her voice, once more – the words purred against his ear, her teeth grazing his skin. He’s unable to swallow the whimper that fights its way out, chest notably heaving, “My ears are s– ahh.. sensitive..”

She hums, hand seeking purchase in his underwear, but lingering just above the waistband – awaiting consent. “I assumed as much,” She murmurs, “Elven ears are only the same..”

“So, I’m your first tiefling?” He asks, voice dipping to a low, rasping hum, as he guides her hand to his cock – hips stuttering as her hand began teasing, languid strokes, thumb paying mind to the ridges that adorned his shaft – alongside bitterly teasing the tip with clear intent. He moans. Pitched, and unrestrained.

“First, and last.” Is her reply, brows knitted in concentration as she peers down at her own working hand, wrist expertly twisting, earning further, mewling whines from Rolan’s mouth.

Rolan’s own, fickle, fantasies paled in comparison to the reality that had now so graciously dawned upon him, his thighs tensing with every pump of her fist.

“So sensitive,” She muses, and his hands grapple for the bookshelf behind him, “I wonder if your tail is the same..”

“Don’t–!” Rolan gasps, but his fragile warning is cast upon deaf ears, her spare hand already pinching the tip of his tail between her thumb and forefinger. He yelps, spilling over her hand with trembling of his thighs.

“Oh,” Her tongue swipes over her fingers, before they sink into her mouth, tasting his seed – “Very sensitive.”

The after-shock of Rolan’s orgasm blurs his vision, whirls his head. So much so that he hardly, if at all, processes her movements – the disappearing of his tail, within the caverns of her mouth, slick with saliva. It’s not until her cheeks hollow, and a spasm of pleasure writhes through him, earning a waned whimper from the back of his throat. “Don’t– I can’t, I– too sss–sensitive..”

Rolan tugs, his tail pleading for exit – her jaw falls slack, brows arched in question. He has to catch his breath, and he does so; though, incredibly unsteadily. Meekly.

“I’m sorry,” His hands, without forewarning, toy with her armour – a silent begging for her to be rid of it, bloodshed and all, “I can’t cum again, not unless it’s inside of you.” She blinks, still and unprepared for the first time since the mere moments ago that their encounter started. Her senses, however, are swift in their return – and she peels off piece after piece, revealing every curve; every freckle, every shred of skin that Rolan could only have ever dreamed of touching, tasting.

Rolan’s robes are much less hassle, and to a silent God he offers his thanks for it. Stripped bare in front of one another, silence offers it’s blanket. It’s her, who moves first, fingertips dancing from his shoulders, right down to his knuckles. He notices the faintest of smiles playing at her lips, adoring in its nature. With a swallowed breath, Rolan outlines her waist, her hips, thighs, ass, with his hands.

“You’re warm,” She states, softly. He hums, and with a sharp pull on his behalf – their bodies are pressed flush. Wordlessly, she’s lead backward – thighs hitting the edge of something hard, sharp, earning an expel of air from her mouth. A desk. Lorroakan’s desk.

With a grunt of effort, she was splayed before him – upon the wood of the desk, his tail wound around her leg, spreading her open with gentle encouragement. His fingers press to her lips, and she understands – tongue swirling, wetting them. With a ‘pop!’, the digits are released – sinking impatiently into her pleading, begging cunt. Rolan gasps, her cunt hot, and tight around his fingers, as they slid, in, out, in, out. He curls them, and her head is thrown back. Thumb, paying mind to her neglected bud, circling it.

“So wet,” He murmurs, not toward her in particular – more so, a thought that had accidentally been uttered aloud. Regardless, he doesn’t regret it. No, her reply only makes him wish he’d said more.

“Because it’s you, Rolan.” She whines.

Gods, he couldn’t wait anymore. She groans, at the absence of his fingers, and he shushes her. “So greedy,” He mewls, “Even when you’re about to get exactly what you want.”

The inside of her greets his cock far differently in comparison to that of his fingers. She clenches, near immediately, and blissfully so. His hips are steady at first, cautious. Until they’re not, her hands finding his in an act of desperation, as his hips piston at an impossible pace – her hips rolling in tandem with his harsh, needy thrusts. Lewd sounds encapsulate the room, skin against skin, raw noises ripped equally from both of their throats. It’s heaven, if such a place truly exists.

Delirious, Rolan barely registers, notices, the premature arrival of his orgasm crawling up his spine, strumming his nerves. A guttural, cracked moan is yanked from his mouth, and he spills inside of her – eyes blown wide. “I’m sorry,” His nose, buries in the crook of her neck, “M’sorry.”

He feels the shaking of her head, light and affectionate, against him. “It’s alright,” A kiss, tender as its pressed to his hair, “I wanted you to.. I’m yours now.”

“Mine.” The word, singular, is spoken through a hidden smile.

[fuctacles]

bonding activity

For @steddie-spooktober prompt "can you please stop trying to scare them?" | 1427 | T | getting together, fluff, post-canon | brainstormed with @blasvemous | Ao3

more spooktober: witch

"Steve."

Steve doesn't react. He's standing by the dirtiest window Eddie's ever seen, peeking from behind a curtain to see the groups entering the house. 

"Steve!" Eddie hisses insistently.

"What?!" Steve snaps back. 

Eddie widens his eyes at him. 

"We should get into positions," he reminds his friend as if they haven't been doing this for over a week now. 

"Mhm," Steve nods absentmindedly, eyes back on the outside. "You do that."

"Are you waiting for Henderson again?"

"Maybe."

Eddie groans, stepping back towards him. They have about ten minutes before the next group walks in, even more before they get to this part of the haunted house.

"Could you please stop trying to scare him? This house is the same every year, and this kid fought Demogorgons, why do you care about stupid fair attraction?" he presses, crossing his arms. 

"It's kind of my duty as an older brother," Steve points out, sparing him a short glance. "Besides, his attitude has been insufferable lately. Gotta teach him a lesson."

That, Eddie could agree with. Henderson has been a little shit about their current gig, talking all cocky about how it was 'entertainment for little kids' and they wouldn't have to do much. Eddie took scaring kids very seriously, thank you very much. 

He was also grateful for the scheme Steve and Robin had pulled to get him the job. It was a small thing, but enough to start getting on the good side with the residents of Hawkins. And also a good way to spend time with Steve, his new and unlikely friend. Eddie reminds him of that, too.

"We were supposed to be bonding," he pouts.

"We'll be bonding after I make Dustin pee his pants," Steve responds shortly, making Eddie scoff. But seeing how unwavering Steve is in his plan, he sighs and steps right into his personal space.

"Promise?" he asks, jabbing a finger into his ribs. 

Steve jolts, but it has the desired effect of getting his attention back on Eddie. He grabs his hand to push it safely away from his body, his eyes finally focusing on his friend and softening. 

"Yeah, man, I promise."

"Great. Because I actually like it here, which I didn't think I'd say about a legal job." Steve snorts softly. "I guess it's fun to work with a friend."

"Yeah," Steve finally smiles fully. "It is."

"And I know you'd rather be doing it with Buckley, but—"

Steve cuts him off with a shake of his head. 

"Don't be stupid dude, even the bestest of friends need some time apart. And it's a blast working with you. The way you made that dude cry yesterday? Fucking priceless." He grins. 

Eddie grins back. 

"Yeah, love how he grabbed onto his wife."

They burst into snickers until a girl rushes past them, reminding them to get into positions. Eddie salutes, and parts with his dear friend. 

"Please think about me fondly. I will miss you dearly," he sighs deeply, caressing Steve's bicep. 

Steve plays along, reciprocating his longing gaze.

"I am missing you already, darling," he says, pressing a phantom of a kiss onto his hand. 

Eddie snickers and skitters away towards his post. For the sake of the job and his sanity. 

Eddie's determined to keep Steve's attention on himself instead of people-watching. Maybe constantly bothering him isn't the best course of action but stick to what you know, right?

"You're putting a damper on my fun, Harrington," he says behind Steve's shoulder as he's eyeing the outside. 

"I know. I'm sorry." And he sounds genuinely regretful. Like his resolve is slowly falling apart, the point of childish games with his brother slowly getting forgotten. 

"You know, you would scare him if you'd just put effort into all of the groups . Keep it at one hundred and you won't miss."

"Yeah, but that's tiring," Steve whines. 

Eddie rolls his eyes. 

"Oh my god, you're such a princess," he mutters. 

"I'm not." Steve frowns, offended.

"Yes, you are." 

Steve already knows there is no point in arguing with Eddie, so he only glares his way. It's not a huge win, but at least he's not looking out the window. Eddie pushes toward victory. 

"And you could be having fun, too, if you weren't so focused on Henderson. I, for one, take pride and joy in my craft of making kids pee their pants," he says with reverence, hand pressed to his chest. 

Steve raises his eyebrows. 

"Yeah, and how many times have you managed that?"

"Zero, but I'm still enjoying myself! And I made one girl faint!"

Steve snorts. 

"Yeah, you'd be proud of that."

"Well, not all of us can do that without the help of a horror setting." Eddie rolls his eyes. "Which, you could be using to your advantage too," he points out, capturing Steve's attention enough to maneuver him away from the window. "You scare a girl, then you take her to a quiet corner to calm her down, a perfect crime!" he throws his arms up but upon seeing Steve's frown, he backtracks. 

"Well, not a crime, of course, but a little, uh, harmless mischief," he amends with an innocent smile. 

Steve's shoulders sag as he sighs.

"Yeah, that was kind of my whole point of doing this. But it's harder than I thought," he says with a wince. 

"Since when?" Eddie frowns in confusion. "I mean, yeah, your game has been off, but you always went for it anyway. Which, I respect as fuck by the way. I could never." He lets out a small, humorless laugh. 

The room falls silent and when he looks up again, Steve is looking straight at him.

"You should try."

"Yeah, probably," he shrugs, but Steve remains unfazed. 

"I'm serious. Go for it." 

They engage in some serious staring competition that makes Eddie squirm, his whole skin itching. 

"Dude, what are you—"

"Have we not been flirting this whole time?" 

Eddie blinks. 

"Uh."

"I wanted this job so we could be alone for once."

"Uh."

"And I'm sorry for getting distracted with the Dustin thing, but I'm back on track now." Finally, his confidence wavers. "That is, if we're on the same one, you know. I might have completely misread the situation."

Eddie shakes his head. 

"No, no. I was, uh, same track, page, yeah," he pulls a strand of hair over his reddening cheeks, but none of them moves. 

"Sooo, are you going to, or am I supposed to—"

"Oh, what the Hell," Eddie mutters, grabbing onto Steve's shirt to pull him forward. He places a lightly off-center kiss on his lips and can feel the body under his palms sagging with relief. 

Steve hums softly. 

"And you said my game was off," he mutters against his lips. 

"Oh, you little shit." Eddie smirks dangerously before he presses in without his previous hesitance. If Steve wants to play, Eddie's good at making up his own rules. 

They find a wall to rest against, and Steve's hand has just ventured to Eddie's ass when an ear-piercing shriek makes them jump apart. 

"What! The fuck!" They can hear Dustin's voice, but he's trying to blind them with his flashlight, so his face stays hidden until the rest of the gang joins him. Someone's light shows his pale, shell-shocked expression. 

"Why are you molesting my brother?!" He points accusingly at Eddie. "And you!" He turns to Steve, still braced against the wall. "You were groping my DM!"

Steve rolls his eyes. 

"Please, I barely touched him," he scoffs. 

"Yeah." Eddie crosses his arms to show his disappointment. "Because you so rudely interrupted."

"Ew! Ew ew ew ew ew!" Dustin covers his ears and moves forward, almost running into a wall in his haste to escape. The rest of The Party follows, though much calmer. Lucas even stalls behind to give the two older boys a thumbs up. 

"Congrats." He grins before disappearing after his friends. 

"Well..." Eddie trails off once the sound of distressed Dustin fades away. "I'd say we scared him pretty well, so, mission accomplished?" He smiles, throwing finger guns to sell his point better. 

"Two missions, even." Steve smiles back, motioning him to come back closer. 

"Two birds, one stone. Very time-saving of us." Eddie happily returns to his place in the other's orbit, which also means his ass is reachable again.

"We could go for two birds one hand later?" Steve offers, but all it does is make Eddie laugh loudly. 

"Holy shit, you truly have no game, Harrington! You're lucky I dig it." 

[luveline]

Can I request Eddie and R tending to each other’s wounds (given they both survive the demobats in the UD)?

ty <3 fem!reader, 1.4k 

cw canon typical violence

“You’re sweating like crazy.” 

“Eddie, that’s the sort of thing you don’t say to a girl,” you say, hands shaking hard as you ruffle through the duffle bag at your side. Your knees burn like they’re on fire, your arms raked with claw marks, but Eddie’s been minced. If you hadn’t climbed your way back to him with the makeshift flamethrower at his feet, Eddie would probably be dead. Scorched demobat is a gross smell. 

“What are you so scared of? It’s like, running down your cheek,” he says. 

“Shut up,” you say, glancing back, hoping Dustin will be right behind you. You hadn’t stopped to make sure he was alright. What if he’s hurt too? “Seriously, just don’t talk. You’re gonna bleed to death and die and your last words are gonna be about how sweaty I am.” 

You peel back a soaked square of gauze from his waist and smash a clean one overtop to soak up the pooling blood. Eddie gasps in agony, writhing away from your touch, but to his credit, his voice is strong as he says, “Shit, true. I can make them better. How about, um… oh. You’re smoking. Like, seriously gorgeous. That better?” 

Your eyes sting as you turn your face to your shoulder, cupping his cheek, his blood wet on your fingers and staining his skin red. “How would you know? It’s dark out.” 

“I’ve seen your face in the light hundreds of times. I know what I’m talking about.” 

He would’ve been turned to mulch without your rescuing. There are split cuts all over him, it’s awful, and you won’t be able to fix him yourself here, but you don’t have to. You just need to stop his bleeding and help him deal with the pain until Dustin makes it through. The two of you can drag him to safety. 

Maybe the best way to do that is to let him tease you. “You really think I’m pretty?” you ask, pressing another piece of gauze over this second one, wincing when he lets out a pained gasp. 

“Are you kidding?” 

“I thought you liked, you know, the really pretty girls, like–”

“You are a really pretty girl, are you kidding? Don’t fish for compliments.” 

You shake your head, laughing, half-terrified. The blood isn’t slowing. “Eddie, I have to press down harder, okay? I’m sorry.” 

“Just do it,” he says. You dig the heel of your palm into his side. “Fuck!” 

“You’re really not gonna like this next part,” you warn, pushing his legs flat to the floor. 

You climb over his thighs and sit on his lap, hand twisted to cover his wound and the other peeling the paper covering off of another sterile square of gauze. Eddie swears like a sailor as you squeeze down, the majority of your upper weight being pressed to his open wounds. It would be an uncomfortable sensation without the cuts. You know it’s torture. 

“Oh, god,” he says, “I think I’m gonna be sick.” 

“That’s a great reaction,” you say, lifting the edge of the leftmost gauze. The blood pools but doesn’t gush down his side. You sigh in relief. “Oh, thank god.” 

“Maybe don’t say stuff like that sitting on my crotch.” 

“Are you for real?” You meet his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You’re really thinking about your dick right now?” 

“Of course not, I’m a gentleman, but you’re kind of on top of me and it’s been a really hard week.” 

You burst out laughing. He gags in pain and turns away. 

The cavalry arrives not long after that, though it feels like hours. Together, somehow, you drag Eddie back to the gate, and things get a little blurry after that. 

—

You’ve never been so tired in your life as you are right now, but you’re so relieved that the world has taken on a golden quality, and Eddie looks golden too. 

His hair is wet. You think Wayne might’ve washed it for him over the bath; it’s been greasy for a week while his stitches started to heal up, and he spent it in Steve’s bed. The only good thing about having absent parents apparently is being able to harbour a fugitive without being noticed, and anybody else who couldn’t go home without explaining their injuries. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks. 

“Mm.” You scrunch up into yourself on the couch, cradling your arm where it aches to your chest. 

“You’ve been sleeping all day. Figured I’d make sure you weren’t in a coma.” You think about poor Max. He must see your wavering expression, sitting on the couch by your legs with an apologetic smile. “She’s doing even better today. Sinclair thinks she was squeezing his finger, so that’s something.” 

“Can’t believe all that stuff really happened,” you mumble, the blanket pulled over your chin muffling your voice. It’s a wonder he can hear you. 

“Feels fake, right? I keep forgetting about it when I wake up, and then I have to stand and feel my stomach try to split open and remember I was bat chow.” He nods to your arm. “Still hurting?” 

It’s nothing compared to his. Your cuts didn’t need stitching, but the were deep still. You’ve only had the butterfly bandages taken off yesterday. The skin aches where the scar tissue is forming. “Sort of itchy,” you say.

“Yeah?” He pulls a little white tube from his pyjama pants hesitantly. “Maybe I can help?” 

“What’s that?” 

“Non disclosed ointment. Pretty sure it’s the good stuff from Mike’s girl’s government friends.” 

They’re gonna clear Eddie’s name, apparently. So far they’ve done a whole lot of nothing while Hawkins falls apart around you. Well, besides the drugs. They’ve given out plenty of painkillers. 

Eddie shuffles closer to you and takes your arm into his hand. “Her name is Eleven,” you say. 

“I know.” He pushes your sleeve up over the bump of your elbow to expose the worst of your scarring. 

You think he’s aware of what you did that day to save him. He’s been achingly nice to you since he woke up. Even when he couldn’t walk, he’d been shouting down the stairs from Steve’s room to check if you were alright on the couch. Usually met with a chorus of Shut the fuck ups, it had been sweet, if a little embarrassing to have to call back. I’m okay. Thanks! 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he says. 

You watch him uncap the ointment and squeeze a ball of it onto his finger. It’s semi-translucent, smelling of arnica with a bit of kick to it. He turns your wrist gently in one hand and begins to trace the lines of your scars one by one, as gentle as anyone’s ever touched you, his pinky finger suspended and shaky as he draws toward the crook of your elbow.

“Well, don’t leave me waiting,” you say eventually. 

“Right, just. I’m trying to be braver. It’s not working in my favour yet.” 

You laugh. “No, really?” 

“But you saved my life. Everybody knows it. You and Henderson saved me, and I can’t make it up to you. This,” —he smooths ointment over the ridge of your cruellest scar— “is permanent. And scaring you like that, I mean. I shouldn’t have gone back in, and I should have kept running, it was selfish, trying to do a good thing and…” He holds your arm in his hands and meets your eyes. You don’t see a trace of the shrill, loud boy you’d spent the last two weeks with. “Getting you hurt.” 

“I got hurt trying to save the world,” you say. “‘Cos, you know, not everything’s about you…” 

His smile is slow as molasses and doubly sweet as he wraps his arm behind your shoulders. He’s careful, you’re both fragile right now, but he squeezes you and laughs warmly against your ear and he’s back to the Eddie you remember. “Everything is about me. It’s totally about me, babe, and you’re just jealous.”

He rubs your back. 

“You know,” he adds, hand trialling lazily to the small of your back, where it stays, “I wouldn’t be here without you. So if you need anything, just let me know.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Yeah?” he asks, pulling back. He kisses your cheek as he does, his hands falling on top of yours. “Alright. You’re still smoking hot, you know that? The scars are sick. You’re cool now.” 

Your fingers twitch against his palm. “Thanks, Eddie.” 

[l13]

bitter

dunno what brought this on but reader has good taste;P also let's pretend that lyla is team reader x miguel for plot reasons

word count: 2.3k

WARNINGS: NSFW 18+, MDNI, f!reader, ex!miguel, aged up bf!hobie<3, miguel has some v descriptive sexual thoughts about you (p in v sex, f!receiving oral), swearing, jealousy, ANGSTTT

English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any misspells, errors or grammatically incorrect sentences.

Miguel often thinks about how he ended up giving in to his desires and starting a situationship with you, how he regrets it when he can tell how you've fallen for him. How your eyes crinkle when you smile at him, looking at him like he hung the moon. He regrets it because that's how he looks at you as well.

Why’d you have to ask him on that stupid date?

“That’d be unprofessional.” is what Miguel had said in reply. Because it was the truth. You were only fucking, nothing more.

You’d scoffed, “Oh come on, Miguel, we’re not office workers. Surely we can go out together?”

“What, fucking me ain’t enough for you?”

You'd huffed, your expression dull, shaking your head in disbelief, “No, actually, it isn’t. I genuinely like you, is that so bad?”

Miguel had ignored the flip his stomach did at your confession “You know why we can’t, now drop it.”

“No, I want you to tell me why.”

“It’s not in the canon” He cringes every time he remembers what he’d said, but it doesn’t change the fact that he was right. He was, but fuck, how he wanted to be wrong. He so desperately wanted it to be him that you were meant to fall in love with, him you were meant to build a life together.

“Fuck the canon.” had been your reply, before you turned to walk away and he'd made no move to follow you.

He'd failed to ignore Lyla when she'd whistled, “That was painful even for me,”

“Jesus- can you not?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, can't interrupt your brooding time. I'm just saying. You prevented the woman of your dreams from falling in love with you, because she's meant to fall for someone else? But that's stupid- Your heart literally jumps when you see her-”

“Lyla I swear to God, if you don't stop talking-”

And now, as he stands in front of your house months later, waiting for you to answer the door, Miguel found himself to be annoyed. Annoyed that he hadn't gotten your mission report on time, and had to come and fetch it for himself.

Some sick, twisted part of his brain wanted you to have forgotten it on purpose, and ignored his calls in order for him to come over, maybe reconcile- fuck your brains out till you're begging him to take you back, even if it meant putting your feelings aside.

“She better be home,” Miguel hisses to himself, his hand massaging his temples, and he doesn't even flinch when Lyla shows up out of nowhere “Oh, she is. The thermal scan picks her up, see? Wait who’s-”

Miguel was thankful for the interruption, but what he saw when you opened the door was not at all what he expected, or was even prepared for.

You were practically naked, an oversized t-shirt covering your body, stopping just under your ass and- Jesus Christ were those thigh highs? Yes they were, pretty ones, too. They were sheer white tights, that ended just in the middle of your plush thighs, the material hugging your legs beautifully, the very top of them decorated with a lace material, giving them a sexy twist.

God, he'd get on his knees right here and now if you just asked-Miguel licked his lips and cleared his throat, quickly averting his gaze, praying that he doesn't appear flustered.

“Miguel! Are you okay? Is something wrong? Hey Lyla-” you seem out of breath as you talk, clearly not bothered by your lack of clothing in front of him. Lyla offers you a bright hello and wave, one you softly smile at.

No, he's not fucking okay.

“I'm great.” he hisses, but really he was trying to convince himself of it. You study him for a bit longer before humming, not believing him for a moment.

“I need the report from the mission that you were sent to do yesterday. The one you forgot to send me.” Miguel inhales sharply and stands taller, trying to hide the fact that your presence damages his brain functionality severely, by trying to look more intimidating.

Memories of last night flash in your mind suddenly, being pressed against your bookshelf, the furniture rattling loudly, books almost toppling to the floor, but you didn’t have the heart in you to care. Not when he was grinding up at you, hand under your thigh to keep you upright as you moaned against his mouth crossing your legs around his waist and bringing him closer, the sound of your watch beeping pulling you out of your trance, “Fuck, wait. T-the reports-”

He undid your watch expertly with one hand, and you gasped trying to snatch it from his grasp, but he held it up above your head, placing it on top of your bookshelf carelessly, before grabbing the top shelf to brace himself and grind himself harder against you, moaning under his breath, “Fuck ‘em.”

Your eyes widen comically, and you sputter, “Right! Shit- fuck. I'm sorry, umm, wait here.” and you slam the door right in his face. Miguel's eyebrow twitches.

There's shuffling from inside before Miguel realizes that you're talking to someone-

“Can you go in five minutes? Please?”

“Nah, ‘m afraid I need to go right now, love. Got things to do, places to be.”

“Can't you open up a portal here?”

“When there’s a perfectly usable front door? I don’ think so,” “C’mon pretty.. what are y’so afraid of?”

“He’s our boss.”

“He’s your ex. Now, if you’re ashamed to be seen with me, I get it-”

“No! Baby, no. I just don’t want to rub it in his face, don't want him to think that I am either,”

“But that’s so boring. Let’s make ‘im suffer, you’ll thank me later-”

“Hob-”

The door opens suddenly and Miguel could act surprised, could act like he’s been waiting for quite a while not knowing what’s going on inside, but he doesn’t. Not when he’s face to face with Hobie. Not when he obviously knows how good Miguel’s hearing is, how he could definitely hear every word that was spoken, not when you’d tried to be nice- tried to whisper and be subtle, not when Hobie blatantly did the opposite out of spite.

So he just stares ahead with a blank face, as Hobie leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest lazily. There’s a hickey on his neck and Miguel feels like he might throw up.

And somehow, Miguel still thinks that this is all some sick joke, a prank, a dream. Anything to explain what he's seeing. Because there’s no way you're dating Hobie. There’s no way you fucked Hobie fucking Brown- the single most annoying person in Miguel’s life (after peter, of course). And after what, only eight months after you stopped seeing him? That's how long it took for you to get over him? He can almost hear Lyla laughing in his head, 'You're just bitter that you're not over her yet'

Hobie smirks at him “Hello mate, long time no see.” Miguel at least has the human decency to offer him a curt nod, which Hobie apparently finds hilarious as he huffs out a laugh, “'S alright if I send my report later, right? I'm kind of exhausted right now, did a lot of runnin' yesterday, y'know,”

Lyla visibly winces and disappears a second later.

Running. Miguel needed breathing exercises and he needed them now-

Miguel's eyes snapped to yours. Were you just gonna let Hobie talk all that shit, without saying anything? (Knowing Hobie's life was in imminent danger?) Apparently so, because you just scoffed and rolled your eyes with a smile on your face. What a great couple you two made.

He refused to believe that this is who you chose, refused to acknowledge that his anger was pointed at himself and not you. He’d never, ever, admit it, not even at gunpoint, but Hobie was a good kid, he’d treat you right and that's what pissed him off the most.

“Fuck the canon.” Hobie would have laughed and nodded in agreement at your words, not Miguel though. Miguel had said nothing and it had cost him his future with you.

Sensing that Miguel wouldn’t reply anytime soon, Hobie just shrugged nonchalantly, “Thanks for understanding, boss.”

Miguel felt like he could hear his own veins pulsing. Boss, he'd called him boss. That little-

Turning to you, Hobie throws a hand around your waist and squeezes you against him, pressing a kiss on your cheek “I'll see you later love, don' forget to put some ice on that, yeah?” he lays a slap on your ass that makes you almost tumble forward, and Hobie's smirk widens when he sees Miguel ball his fists at his sides, nostrils flaring. Hobie throws a wink at Miguel before squeezing through him to walk out, seeing as Miguel didn't make any attempt to get out of the way.

Miguel doesn't turn to see him open up a portal to leave, he's too busy looking at the way the multi-colored lights illuminate your face, how you grin and wave shyly at your boyfriend.

“So sorry about him.. d'you wanna come in?” you ask, shifting from one leg to another once the portal disappears. Miguel just stares at you, eyes hooded, mouth pressed in a tight line.

“Ookay, I’ll just go get the- yeah” you trail off and turn to walk deeper into your apartment, and Miguel hates himself for craning his neck to catch a glimpse of your ass. And then hates himself even more when he thinks about how smug Hobie would be if he knew Miguel was checking out his girl. He'd say some dumb shit like "Wanting somethin' you can't have again, boss?"

Meanwhile, you're standing on your tippy-toes in front of your infamous bookshelf, arm outstretched, trying to grab your watch but to no use, cursing Hobie in your mind for putting it so high up. You had no idea that by trying to get your stupid watch, you were giving Miguel the perfect view of your backside, seeing as your shirt rode up each time you stretched out your arm.

No, fuck that. You knew exactly what you were doing, and Hobie was right. Let him suffer. He chose this, so now he can deal with the consequences.

Miguel wanted to give everything up right then and there. It's funny how quickly you could strip him of his morals, and he just wishes he could have done that before realizing he'd lost you forever. He could picture his future in his mind so clearly, if only he'd just said yes to your question.

“Will you go out with me?"

He’d resign, move out some place nice, next to a beach preferably. Spend his days laying on the sand and drinking piña coladas with no care in the world.

Except you’d be there. Straddling his lap to steal his drink, giggling and laughing when he tried to take it back from you. He’d grab your hips and with a swift motion you'd switch places, your back against the hot sand. The drink would spill from the movement, the liquid falling over your bikini covered tits, and you’d gasp oh-so prettily when he’d bend to lick it all up.

You’d moan even sweeter when he’d move lower, when he’d eat you out till you’re a crying, babbling mess, whining that you can’t take it anymore. Oh, but you could. You would take it, and he’d prove it when he’d later fuck you against the pool, and he’d make sure he fucked you good. Your mewls would be panted against his ear as he’d thrust into you relentlessly, your fingers digging into his wet back, and all he’d taste would be your pretty moans and the faint taste of rum against his tongue.

His cheeks would hurt from how hard he'd be grinning as he stared at you when you both would go for a walk by the beach later. He'd jog up to you, springing you in his arms, nuzzling his head against your hair- your distinctive smell fogging up his brain- your laughter mixing together, as you chased each other through the waves.

When you'd had enough, and stood panting, your -now wet- dress clinging to you like second skin, he'd drop to his knee, pulling out a ring from his pocket, one he was anxious not to drop when he was chasing you around, and you'd gape at him, tears already welling up in your eyes.

You would have said yes that night. In fact, the word would have been repeated against his shoulder as he fucked you later, rolling his hips into you slowly, kissing your pretty tears, holding you, loving you–

“Done! I just sent it–,” you could have sworn you and Miguel shivered at the same time when he blinked down at you, his mouth parted. His eyes were glistening all of a sudden, and it made your whole being fill with a sense of longing and dread.

“Lyla?” you swallowed harshly at Miguel's hoarse tone, gnawing at your lip as you avoided his gaze.

It was as if Lyla knew not to fuck with him either, because she didn't even make him beg for it, instead pulling up a hologram that showed the report, “Yup, got it!”

You cleared your throat, eager to get back into bed and forget the look on his face just now, suddenly feeling nostalgic for a memory you couldn't quite place- “I'm sorry that I forgot, it won’t happen again, promise.”

Yes it will.

“See you back at HQ?”

Miguel hums, not saying anything, not even caring to correct you, because he’d sooner see you in his dreams than at headquarters.

2023 © l13 | Do not steal, copy, edit, translate or re-post any of my works.

[throwawayhero]

could you give more hcs or a drabble about bakugou with a crush on reader!! pls i feel like ur fics are the closest ive seen to canon... i need more

No problem, and thanks! I try to make them seem canon, but sometimes it's difficult T-T. Just realising now that a few of these sound stalker-y and I'm sorta regretting writing this but oh well. I hope this is satisfactory!! c/w; social media au, buzzfeed, eminem (idek), karaoke, not proof read

!Katsuki who unintentionally catches himself playing with his hair while talking to you. Not in an obvious way (that's what he thinks at least), but more so absentmindedly fiddling with his side burns and such. It's kinda funny when he accidentally curls them and leaves them like that for a while. He also has a habit of playing with his baby hairs on the back of his neck.

!Katsuki who "accidentally" managed to copy your handwriting style down stroke for stroke? He doesn't really know how it happened, to be honest. He just noticed it one day during a group project after Jirou pointed it out to the two of you. You found it funny, but he found it outrageous and claimed that you had been the one to copy his handwriting.

!Katsuki who allowed you to tag along on one of Kirishima's and his study sessions. He beat the shit out of Eijirou and was gentle with you, more or less. He wouldn't hit you of course, but he certainly wasn't scared to yell. At least the first time. The look you gave him made him writhe with guilt, so he shut the fuck up out of embarrassment.

!Katsuki who heard you talking about a band you loved and decided it was his god given right to go through their whole discography and criticise it in his own time. But turns out, you have good taste, so he keeps to himself about it. "Accidentally" bought a spare ticket to their next concert and offered the spot to you. No big deal, right?

!Katsuki who did extensive searching for your socials, scrolling through his friends friends following, mutuals, and genuinely just word of mouth. When he did find your accounts, he stalked the SHIT out of them. When you requested to follow him, he freaked out and accepted straight away. He didn't follow you back until a week later, "just to be safe".

!Katsuki who unironically took one of those "Do I have a crush on my friend?" quizzes when he started to feel things towards you. 100% went down a rabbit hole on buzzfeed. He wanted to call his "crush" ANYTHING other than what it was. Mentioned it to Kirishima once and was left even ore confused than what he had originally been.

Unrelated but he just looks like he would listen to Eminem. Probably gets a good chuckle out of the whole "You gonna cancel me, yeah? Gen Z me brah?!" thing. Don't ask me to explain why I think this, it just makes sense.

!Katsuki who more often than not is watching you out of the corner of his eye. Not in an overly-creepy way, he's just "aware of his surroundings". He says that to anyone that mentions it, which is literally just his paranoia.

!Katsuki who secretly loved the fact that you hung out with him and his friends almost daily. Because then he wouldn't have to initiate hangouts and look as desperate as he really was. It gave him a plausible excuse to absorb every single opinion you uttered. It gave him an excuse to get even closer to you.

!Katsuki who freaked the FUCK out when everyone (besides the two of you) got sick and couldn't do the bi-weekly hangout everyone had played a part in organising. The group had settled on doing karaoke, so you can imagine how it went down with just the two of you there. Although, the two of you did make an amazing duet. (No one was really sick, Mina just mentioned Katsuki's behaviour and put 2 and 2 together. She also wanted to see if he would take initiative for once.)

!Katsuki who went out of his way to make changes to his hero costume that he knew you would like. Small details here and there, for both style and practicality. While it was cold he would use the neck warmer to hide the smirk that creeped onto his face when he saw you checking out his new look. He also started to make himself look nicer in general, indulging in a bit of jewellery (stud earrings, a ring or two, and a silver necklace), nicer shoes, wearing the uniform properly and such.

!Katsuki who has your number pinned in his contacts, as well as giving you your own message & ring tone sound. He has everyone but you, Kirishima, and his parents on silenced. He also has your contact saved as a nickname he assigned you without you knowing with a heart emoji. It's simple, but endearing.

[knight-of-flowerss]

cregan stark headcannons for crushing or a blurb pls ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Hii!! I sadly haven’t watched season 2 yet so these are js going off fanon and stuff 😭

Also I’m sorry if this isn’t the best I haven’t wrote properly in a good few months 😭

HOTD Masterlist

CREGAN STARK HEAD CANONS || SFW ||

🃃 Cregan Stark is a stoic man. A Stark man. A full beard at such a young age (ik that in the show he don’t have a beard or summin but these are my head canons and he’s a Stark so-).

🃟 He’s the Winterfell darling basically. It was a running ‘joke’ that every girl wants him and every man wants to be him. And it was 100% true.

🃃 And this is how you ended up here. Staring at the young lord with adoration infecting your eyes.

🃟 Your young heart couldn’t contain the crush that had bubbled over. You had known of this man barely a few months and thanks to your brother, you saw him pretty much everyday.

🃃 Preparing for war wasn’t easy for anyone. But with Cregan’s dashing smile reassuring your family during this crisis, how could you not swoon?

🃟 His eyes, his hair, his beard, his smile. Everything about this man was perfect, you melted whenever you saw him.

🃃 Every time your mother was called into a meeting with Cregan, your brother and your step-father, you jumped at the opportunity to accompany her, claiming that “We’re family mother, we should stick by eachother.”.

🃟 Yes you just lied to your dear mother to get closer to your little crush, do you give a fuck? Fuck no. I mean have y’all seen the Starks? They’re literal sex gods.

🃃 In these meetings, you sat down near the vast table they often bickered at over battle tactics while you started in awe at them all, admiration of your mother, respect for your brother, intimidation of your step-father and desire for Cregan.

🃟 While sat in these meetings you’ll take sneaky glances over at Cregan and for a while, he didn’t even glance your way, give you a passing thought. But after a while you noticed his eyes… lingering.

🃃 One day you were walking around Dragonstone with Joffrey, admiring the sheer beauty of your home when all of a sudden, long dark locks catch your attention.

🃟 At first glance you thought it was Jace, he grew his hair out and really started to become your father more and more with each passing day.

🃃 You look down and see expensive furs trailing the floor as the cape the figure was wearing sweeped up any un-seen muck from the ground.

🃟 You trailed your eyes up and met with frosty-grey eyes peering back at you.

🃃 A sly smirk adorns his rough face, his eyes burning holes into yours.

🃟 Your cheeks flush as your lips part, plump and soft, your front teeth peeking through.

🃃 His large frame stalks towards you, boots beating on the stone floors, striding with a cunty confidence.

🃟 The seven had surely blessed this man. He was sent from the Maiden herself.

🃃 A shadow casts over you, the sun immediately cowering from your soft features. Your doe eyes peer up, looking past your dark decorated hair to trail up to his face.

🃟 After a lengthy few seconds of sexually charged silence, Joffrey speaks up.

🃃 “When are we going to the library sister?”

🃟 You blinked out of your trance. Your head moving towards your baby brother while your eyes stay on Cregan’s, but eventually your eyes drift away from him and set upon your brother.

🃃 “Uh- oh yes uhm, we’ll go now brother.”, your head moves to Cregan, “It’s nice to see you again Lord Stark, I hope it won’t be the last time we all see each other on this visit of yours.”

🃟 Cregan nods, once curved lips, that formed a smirk, fall into a flat line as he agrees, “Of course your grace, I’ll see you both in the hall for the feast.”

🃃 The next time you see the rugged man, it’s the feast in the hall a few hours later.

🃟 You were sat with Joffrey on your left and your other little brother Viserys. Your baby brother had smacked his food out of the maids hands so you offered to feed him something while she cleaned the very large mess.

🃃 Your hand dips the spoon into the oats to lift a hefty amount onto the cutlery, heading towards your huffy brothers opened mouth, little did you know his hand would fly up and smack the spoon into your face.

🃟 A shocked gasp left your mouth as you stared at Viserys, his face lighting up and giggling, you couldn’t help the soft smile that graced your oat-y features.

🃃 You quickly got up and went to clean up before anyone noticed and you didn’t want the attention on you due to your appearance.

🃟 But as you hurried through the doors to clean up, eyes followed your body across the hall. Cregan’s mouth curved into a smile and a small chuckle left his lips.

🃃 But, when you came back you saw something that angered you, more than any amount of oats poured on you could.

🃟 A young woman, a daughter of some Lord that was supporting your mother, was throwing herself all over Cregan.

🃃 And he was enjoying it.

🃟 ‘I shouldn’t be jealous,

you aren’t even mine.’

Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

[hg-aneh]

Hi,ik I've been asking questions frequently but I'mma do it again bc I'm that petty;

In the AziraCrow relationship/marriage/or whatever. Who do u think is the housewife/husband? 😀

if we're talking about traditional gender roles applied to marriage ((which i believe would NOT apply to them in canon as they're both nonbinary supernatural beings)), i have to preface this by saying that i rlly don't agree with them as a concept

[if ppl choose to engage in them and not judge others for not doing so then good for them (idgaf akfbsjf)]

i hate that they're still being imposed onto people and that they haven't been left in the past for some contexts

i also want to clarify that the following """analysis""" I'm going to make is all for the sake of poking fun at gender roles and satirizing their entire existence.

Having said that, these are my headcanons:

Aziraphale-housewife, Crowley-husband

Why? Simply because husbands are fucking useless and I like to bully Crowley cuz he stinks and he sucks c0ck and b4-

I'm just goofing around 😭

In my little bubble world, they'd be neither (or both if you wanna see it from that POV)

Let's start with this:

If we take the definition of a traditional husband, which is basically "i work and do nothing else cuz I'm a man and men have their mommies i mean wives do everything for them" and take the Work part away, which is what we'd do if we were to place the ineffables in the south downs aka their retirement shack, then you get a useless fuck

And in reality, they both do jackshit (that's the whole premise of s1) so????? does that mean they're both husbands???

For further insight let's try to affirm Aziraphale is the housewife.

Aziraphale bakes, so he's probably a decent cook too; that's "housewife" material. He also happens to be very pretty and plump and a blonde, which I've been told are pretty ladylike things to be (/sarcasm)

(There are no pretty male blondes in ba sing se good omens)

He dresses in light, dainty clothing and talks with an accent only girls and women talk with, as well as getting his nails done and using make up for his magic act, and he says "please" and "thank you", which are things only women do (I'M BEING SARCASTIC. I'M BEING VERY SARCASTIC. god i hate gender rolesAAAA)

Now this is where the comparisons end cuz let's face it, Aziraphale is a lazy fuck.

You KNOW the bookshop smells like mold and he just miracles it clean every now and then.

He'd rather sit his plump (pretty) blond ass on the couch and read the day away than actually get to doing the baking and cooking or caring for the kids (plants) if it's not a hobby activity

Now let's do the opposite and try to affirm Crowley as the housewife.

He's clean (does the cleaning), he's of service when needed, he organizes when he's stressed (read the book), he- he drives a car...

OH SHIT. MAN ACTIVITY!!!!!🤯🤯🤯 (we're still being sarcastic here, it's not over EFJSJF)

In all seriousness though, trying to fit these two into gender roles, even as a joke is kinda difficult even in headcanon-land ajbfsnf

At least that's my opinion

For every traditionally "feminine" thing you have one of them do, the other outdoes that by a mile. And vice versa with the traditionally "masculine" things, like "being useless" and "car" /sarcasm is back.

So which one would be which? I think they're both dumbasses who fight over who gets to do what in the household (neither of them wants to do anything except for cuddling) and come up with an agreement to divide each chore :)

y'know, like normal people in a functional marriage (my parents lol)

[demelzathemer]

I'm watching the Doom Patrol episode for the first time ever and LOSING MY MIND, why didn't anyone tell me this is GOOD??? It's written by Steve Yockey and it SHOWS because the dialogue is absolutely the same as in the netflix series

Crystal is so catty and Edwin is fed up with people while Charles mediates, they're the same characters just played by different people?? I'm gonna add some shitty screensnaps here to yell about it

Obviously spoilers if you care about that;

Crystal <3 She looks closer to her comicbook self but has the same amount of sass as her netflix self

I swear I'm so normal about this bit of dialogue. Crystal telling Edwin Charles will protect him (with a baseball bat, mind you, they're in the States!) and their responses, I wish I could see Jayden and George act this part.

(I can hear "I'd do it anyway, won't I?" in Jayden's voice... weeps)

Edwin sassing out little girls again??? I lost it with the pose and voice

WEAK FOR THOSE BIG BROWN EYES

(Jayden's voice again. I know you hear it)

He should've been allowed to drape himself over Edwin like this too. Why would Netflix do this to me

"Love this." EDWIN??? He's way too happy that they're gonna smack their client with a shovel.

And CHARLES (pulls it out without anyone asking, he knows what's going to happen next) HANDS IT TO CRYSTAL so she can be the one doing the smacking???

And she's way too eager as well. What is happening here. Though I love how seamlessly they work as a trio now. Even if it's for the purpose of knocking out their unsuspecting client

"The price to open the door to afterlife is pain, and I'm the only one who can do it."

With the door handle being a BABYDOLL HEAD. With HELL FLAHBACKS. What the actual fuck?

I thought the doll spider was netflix original character??

And Charles immediately being "you don't have to do it, we can find another way in" I might be crying

Charles is afraid of water??? That's CANON?? It has to be, nothing has been changed about the characters so far!

Charles (with red-rimmed eyes): "I'm not scared! Just so you know."

Edwin (lying to make Charles feel better): "We know."

They're so in love. But what do you mean with "I'll make sure he's fine"? What are you gonna do, Edwin? Hold his hand on the boat ride? (They didn't show that part, so that's probably what happened.)

They had ONE episode and they still had to make sure that we know Edwin's gay.

I'm OBSESSED with this line and this repressed version of Edwin, I don't have the words right now but I read someone's brilliant analysis about it. (Pls link if you find it)

"I used to think that, too. But it's not 1916 anymore, you know?"

"Well, I'm not like you. But thanks for the concern."

Edwin, oh my god that is so sad. What makes you think you don't deserve happiness? I need to study him under a microscope

...Then STRAIGHT INTO death flashbacks??? They didn't leave anything out, watching this one episode spoils 7 out of 8 episodes of the netflix series?!

"She's good." Edwin appreciates Crystal! I love that they genuinely are a trio here and the boys know about her quirks like they know each other

Also David lore is unchanged too and Crystal bonding with Dorothy was so sweet

...THE NIGHT NURSE IS HERE TOO?? I thought she was a netflix original character too (Cat King, Tragic Mick and Jenny are, at least?)

AND SHE'S RUTH CONNEL??? ALSO WTF JUST HAPPENED

Her character is pretty different alright, and played very differently by the same actress??? And Charles just WENT FOR IT unprovoked?! Do they know about her in this universe, is she like a monster that's actively hunting them down and can be alerted by killing(?) I literally don't know anymore this is crazy

(Edwin was so cute jumping up and cheering lol. A bit jarring how much more he curses here though)

This is actually an insane episode, the trio with their huge amount of lore just drop in in the middle of already established group of characters and their lore and then, they're never seen again after this??

And they had flashbacks to both of their deaths without explaining ANYTHING about what the hell was that. Just five seconds of "being chased and covered in blood", teasing something about their relationship, Crystal dropping her goal of beating her missing memories out of a demon, no conclusion of wtf was "spider-face lady" aka the Night Nurse, etc etc. They needed their own show really badly huh

So netflix hurry up and give us a second season! After seeing this I'm blown away by the execution of Dead Boy Detectives and how Jayden and George really brought the characters to life. I'm so thankful we have that. Their chemistry really is what makes the show.

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

My Home Is You Part 1/3

A/N: I am so obsessed with this movie, I've seen it twice. Enjoy. Leave a comment, like, or reblog if you've enjoyed it. Thank you to @kingliam2019 for requesting.

Fandom: The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare

Pairing: Gus March-Phillips x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language, Nazi's, canon typical violence, possible spoilers for the movie, and mentions of sexual assault.

Part 2 Part 3

“What’s that?” Freddy points to the lump behind Gus’s coat. 

“Nothing,” Gus shrugs, “shall we.” 

“We shall not,” Freddy shouts exasperated, “it’s moving! Unless you became the hunchback of Notre Dame in the ten minutes I left you, you got something hidden behind your back!” 

“He’s got a point, boss,” Hazy shrugs. 

Gus sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I think the jig is up,” he pushes the coat up and out you pop from behind his side, disappearing behind him with a shriek. 

“Where the hell did you find a woman?!” Freddy looks around, then goes silent putting two and two together, “Oh, I see.” 

“She’s coming with us,” Gus reaches behind him and you grasp his hand, trembling hard at being surrounded by so many men. His touch is warm, and you take a moment to breathe before stepping out from behind him at your full height. 

“Hello,” you whisper, giving an awkward wave. 

Gus lets go of your hand and claps making you jump and his face quickly turns apologetic, “Fuck, sorry about that, love. These are the boys,” he points to each man giving you a quick rundown on his merry band of miscreants. He turns to you with a proud smile, “I never did catch your name.” 

“Let me get this straight,” Freddy puts his hands on his hips, sticking out one finger towards Gus, “you find a random woman hidden in a Nazi garrison, fight your way out with her, and decide to bring her with us, without asking her name first?” 

“Probably did it a bit backward,” Gus rubs the back of his head with a chuckle, “but I’m making up for it now.” 

You clear your throat and they all turn towards you as you say your name, a small smile spreading across your face when they repeat it to you. “Welcome to the team,” Anders bows before putting his bow over his shoulder, “shall we get back to the boat, we got somewhere we need to be.” 

“After you,” Gus says, frowning when he realizes Anders is already halfway back to the boat. “That’s the spirit Lassen, lead the way!” Gus slings an arm around your shoulder and helps you walk, it’s slow and painful; your foot aches with every step but you keep it to yourself. These men have already done enough liberating you and agreeing to take you with them. The last thing they need is for you to be injured. But nothing gets past Gus. 

He doesn’t ask, just leans down and swings you up into his arms. You gasp, quickly wrapping your arms around his neck. “Wh-what are you doing?” you whisper. 

“You’re limping,” he whispers back, almost like two children sharing a secret, he grins. “I’m not about to let you hurt yourself worse before I can take a look at your injuries.” 

“I’m fine,” you bite your lip looking away, “you’ve done enough already.” 

Gus stops, the others moving around him to toss the rope down the cliff side, “Darling, I know you’ve just spent gods knows how long with the worst creatures imaginable but not all of us are monsters.” 

“I didn’t say you were,” you turn back to him, and catch your breath when you notice how close he is. “I don’t think you’re a monster at all,” you whisper, swallowing hard, “I just don’t want to cause you any more trouble.” 

“Do you know what I thought when I saw you tucked behind that wall crying and holding your ears?” You shake your head, and he grins, “She looks like just my kind of trouble.” 

The first smile in months spreads like wildfire across your face and you nod. “Ready?” Apple interrupts, “We managed a pulley to get her down.” 

Gus nods, lifting you into the makeshift pulley and working with Apple to lower you down. When you reach the ground Lassen lifts you into his arms while Gus and Apple come down and re-wrap the rope around their arms. 

When finished, Gus reaches his arms out for you and Anders smiles, tugging you closer. “I think I’ll hold on to her for a while. Give you a break,” he looks down giving you a conspiratorial wink. 

“Give me back my damsel,” Gus holds out his arms wider, “I’m not going to ask again.” 

“Who are you calling a damsel?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest, and Lassen lets out a joyful cheer. 

“You tell him, honey,” he turns walking with you back towards the dinghy. His glee makes a ghost of a laugh appear in your throat before you toss your head back in delight. 

Apple pats Gus on the back as he climbs into the boat and you look back to see Gus smiling, a full-blown smile just for you and you rest your head on your arm and look back at him. “It’s good to see you laugh,” he mouths, and your cheeks ache from smiling as he sits down and begins to row. 

“Row row, row your boat,” Lassen mumbles under his breath, the lull of the waves and the feeling of safety making your eyes droop. “Oh, the little lamb is tired, no?” he whispers in your ear, “You rest, no one will harm you ever again.” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you repeat your fathers words aloud. 

“Little lamb, with the way Gus is looking at me right now. You don’t have to worry about anyone hurting you for the rest of your life.” He rubs a hand over your arm and chuckles, mumbling, “if looks could kill.” 

“He won’t always be there,” your words are drowsy as you burrow deep into his arms, letting out a yawn. 

“Ah, little lamb, I highly doubt that,” Lassen chuckles softly, before you feel yourself being lifted into anothers arms. The scent of smoke, cologne, and leather lull you into a deeper sense of calm and you snuggle into his arms. Gus looks down, brushing a knuckle over your cheek and committing your face to memory as you fall asleep, breathing softly. “Take a picture,” Lassen teases, “it will last longer.” 

“Her cell was next to mine,” Apple interrupts, “she was always so nice to me. Tried to patch me up the best she could through the bars. I tried to return the favor, everytime they brought her….fuck I can still hear the screaming.” The men are silent, the waves crashing against the dinghy as they get closer and closer to the boat. 

“Well,” Freddy clears his throat, “she’s safe now.” They reach the boat, helping Gus aboard and watching as he disappears below deck with you. 

“Heaven help the man who tries to take her away from him,” Hayes clears his throat, and the rest climb aboard and continue on toward Fernando Po. 

Below deck, Gus tucks you into his bunk and watches the rise and fall of your chest before he moves towards the end of the bed, and lifts the blanket to remove your shoe. He curses when he sees the bruising around your ankle. He removes the other shoe and has to control his breathing when he sees the same markings; shackles. 

“Never again,” he whispers, grabbing bandages and ointments and applying them to your ankles. The bottom of your foot is no better, and he grabs the tweezers removing several shards of glass and bandaging your feet. “No wonder you were limping,” he talks to himself. He takes the next twenty minutes checking over the parts of your body he can see, treating every little cut and bruise. When he’s finished he walks over to a basin of water and washes his hands before pouring a glass of scotch and sitting down at the map. 

He loses track of the time, his head snapping up from the table when the screaming starts. He pushes the chair out, climbing over the table to grab your thrashing body. He repeats your name over and over again till your eyes pop open, gasping you reach towards him throwing your arms around his neck and letting out a sob. “I thought it was a dream,” you sob brokenly into his skin, almost crawling into his lap, “I dreamed I was back there,” you take a deep breath, “that they were…” 

“No,” he shakes his head, pulling back to put both hands on your face, his thumbs brushing the tears from your eyes. “You’re safe,” he repeats once, then twice, “do you hear me?” 

“I’m safe,” you repeat back, the tears silently streaming down your face. From the stairs, the men stare at the scene before them. “Uh oh,” Freddy shakes his head, and the others turn to him with various questions. “Look at them,” he points back to you and Gus, “he looks at her like he just realized what love was.” 

“I didn’t know you were a romantic, Freddy,” Apple claps him on the shoulder with a laugh. “I’m not,” he shrugs, “but I’m also not blind. That right there,” he points a finger, “that’s love if I ever saw it. You just wait, I bet you ten pounds she goes home with him at the end of this mission.” 

“I’ll take that bet,” Hayes tosses over his shoulder. 

Apple raises a brow, “you don’t think they’ll end up getting hitched once we’re home.” 

“That wasn’t the bet,” Hayes grins, “he bet that she’ll go home with him at the end of the mission. I think we’ll either be dead or in jail so she probably won’t be going home with him.” 

“Never bet against yourself, Hazy,” Freddy shakes his head, “have I taught you nothing.” 

“It’s your deal,” Henry reminds him before shrugging past to go back to the deck, “let’s go, give them some privacy.” 

Their steps recede and Gus rubs the last of your tears away, “do you want something to eat?” 

“Yes,” you nod, moving from his lap and tugging the blanket around your shoulders. When you step down, you quickly look at the bandages around your feet and ankle before meeting his eyes, “thank you,” you whisper, “for everything.” 

“You don’t have to thank me,” he puts the kettle on, “any decent human being would do the same.” You sit down at the table seeing the maps and confidential files spread across the surface. Gus grabs the papers and puts them into a pile before putting down a cup of steaming tea before you. 

“I have a few questions,” you wrap your hands around the cup, absorbing some of the warmth. 

He takes a sip, blowing the top with a grin, “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” 

“What were you doing in the Garrison?” 

“Rescuing Appleyard,” he takes another sip, “we needed him.” 

“For what?” 

Gus puts down his cup, crossing his arms over his chest and your heart beats a little louder at how strained the fabric is over his bulging biceps. You quickly take a sip of your tea, burning your tongue when you meet his eyes, seeing amusement sparkle. “Enjoying the show?” you cough, the tea spilling down the front of your dress. “Shit,” he shouts, grabbing a towel and pulling out the chair beside you to sit down. You grab it and soak up the liquid from your dress, the top sinking lower with each tug. 

When you’re finished you glance up to see his eyes on your chest before he quickly averts his eyes and clears his throat. “Enjoying the show?” you smile softly when he coughs and lets out a strained laugh. 

“Very much,” he turns his head and your mouth goes dry. Neither says anything for a moment before he goes back to the pile and tugs out the map. You take another sip of tea to prevent being parched when he spreads it over the table. “We’re on a secret mission for the English government.” “Come again?” you clear your throat, sitting up straighter. 

He grins, “We are on an unsanctioned, unofficial mission to destroy a ship and two tug boats holding enough supplies to supply the German U-boats for six months. We destroy those ships and we regain control of the Atlantic.” 

“And how do you plan to do that?” 

“Explosives,” he pushes a tin of biscuits towards you, “tons of explosives. What do you think?” 

You sit there for a moment, processing everything he’s said before reaching into the tin and pulling out a ginger snap. You dip it into your cup before taking a bite with a grin, “where can I sign up?” 

[bumpkinspice0]

Know One Knows the Trouble, Honey, That We've Been Through 3/3

Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Mutant!FemReader

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.6

Summary: He lied to you. They all lied to you. They didn't want you back. This was all some sick ploy to get you to dig up the past you worked so hard to bury. You've held it inside for so long… time to let it out. Thanks for all the comments! I love you! We made it babes, buckle up Warnings: canon typical violence, fighting to resolve feelings (cause that makes sense), S M U T, Logan: Pussy eating champion, knife play? (blink and you'll miss it), fingering, dirty talk, P in V sex, switches switches everywhere, praise kink, multiple orgasms, smut with feelings

Series Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

AO3 if you prefer to read there

_______

Funny how perspective can change in an instant. A few words shared in confidence can be used against you. Someone you thought you could trust was just using you the whole time. Nothing but a means to an end.

Night was finally here. You stand on the opposite side of the fire, Logan on the other with his hands raised as if you were a spooked animal. 

Getting close to you, the drinks, the kiss— all to get to this. This is what he actually wanted from you— to know your past to help himself. 

“Weapon X isn’t a person.” you spit

“It’s what they called me. What I’m told they called me.” he pleads back, circling the fire.

“What do you mean you were told?”

“They put metal in me— adamantium. They gave me claws and made me a weapon—a monster. That’s all I know. I don’t remember anything. They took everything from me. My memories, my humanity, everything.”

You can’t see past your rage to fully process what he’s saying. Another person stolen and experimented on. In a different life, you’d pity him— but not tonight. 

“Is… is that why you’ve been talking to me? Is that what this is? You think I can help you find something?”

“No! Of course not, I never—”

“You grilled me about my life! Questioned me just to—“

“Listen! Would you please just listen!” 

You turn away, each step making the concrete around you rumble. You storm into the mansion, slamming the door behind you. Logan follows. You’re halfway through the living room before he reaches for you. 

“Darlin’, I didn’t know anything, I swear to God,” he pleads behind you.

“Don’t!” you whip around before he can grab your wrist, “Just don’t, you fucking liar.”

“He’s not lying.” you both turn to the sound of Charles’s voice. He sits at the edge of the room, Scott and Storm behind him. “He didn’t know anything.”

You feel cornered, all of them looking at you expectantly— like you have all the answers. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to be reminded of it all— and all for the benefit of someone else. 

Your anger has a new target. 

“But you knew, Charles.” You spit at your old mentor, “Is that why you really brought me here? To help tame your new stray?”

“Of course not.” His voice is so calm and level, it only infuriates you more. 

“We had a right to know about this, Charles.” Logan bites out behind you. 

“You don’t get to talk right now,” You point an accusatory finger at Logan. 

“You’re not the only one allowed to be mad right now,” he growls back. If this is all true, deep, deep down you know he’s right. Then you were both pawns, the game was just being played by Charles. 

“It would have been addressed in time.” The Professor simply replies. 

“Oh, bullshit.” you bark out a mocking laugh before making your way past Charles and your once friends.

“Dozer, please,” the pleading in Storm’s voice almost makes you pause. Almost. 

You’re at the front door now, hand resting at the knob. A million possible responses are at the tip of your tongue.

They knew—they all knew—and this was just some big dance to get you to dig up things you didn’t want dug up—for him, for their new pet. They didn’t want you back. They didn’t want you at all.

“Fuck you.” You hiss before slamming the door behind you. You think you hear Charles telling the others to let you go before you do. You don’t know. You don’t really care. 

Still, that doesn’t stop a hand from clamping down around your wrist when you're only just steps from your truck. 

“Don’t go. Please.” 

“Let go of me, Logan”

You don’t bother to face him. He doesn’t deserve anything from you. No one does. 

The truck is so close yet so far away.

“I can’t help you.” You bite out. 

“I don’t care. I don’t care about any of that. Just—” His grip tightens, “You said you wanted to stay. You wanted to come back. Please… stay.”

“Let go.”

“You’re angry, with every right to be. I am too.”

“You don’t know a damn thing.”

You’re tired. You’re so tired of being used. 

“I get it. They deserve it, darlin’. All that rage.” He dares to take a step closer, “Charles, me, Weapon X… your father.”

“Let. Go.”

You rip him off, a pillar of rock sending him flying across the lawn. You finally turn to look at him. He gets up as if nothing has happened. He holds his hands out— a challenge.

“Let it out, darlin’. You deserve to let it out. I can take it.”

Anger needed a target, and he was offering himself up to be yours. 

The fucking masochist. 

You should leave. You want to leave but it’s a shame how all rationality goes out the window when rage is at the wheel.

The ground quakes, rocks and dirt swirl in the wake of your thundering steps. You run towards him almost blind. You don’t know what you’re doing but you don’t want to stop either. 

Let it out, he said— fine. 

You’ll let it out.

Rocks of all sizes come crashing down around him— pebbles the size of quarters to boulders the size of people. You rip them all from the ground with no regard. There is only fury. There is only white, blinding rage. 

Logan is fast, dodging every new obstacle you throw at him in an instant. He runs, he pounces but still, the claws stay sheathled. What good is a knife against a stone, anyway? It doesn’t matter, you don’t really care. In its own fucked up way, it felt good the let loose— consequences be damned. 

You don’t notice when you start to pull dirt from the gardens. 

“Bastard!” It’s screamed at Logan but you’re not entirely sure who you’re thinking of when you say it. 

Logan doesn’t have a scratch. It’s not just because of the healing factor, nothing’s touched him. He’s playing cat and mouse with you, drawing you further and further away from the mansion. He wants you to fight, but he won’t do it himself. 

Coward.

You plunge your fists into the ground, massive cracks in the earth jutting out from the force. The ground around Logan breaks apart from the rest, a small platform of earth lifting him into the air.

Try running from this, you think as you slam it all back down in one thunderous motion. The small island breaks apart on impact but Logan breaks free, claws finally bared. 

“You ready to fight back now?!” you scream through wheezed breaths. It’d been so long since you’d exerted yourself this way. You do your best to hide the creeping exhaustion. 

“This isn’t a fight, darlin’,” still he holds his claws at the ready, “Never was.”

“Oh, shut up! J-just shut up!” you hurl a small rock at him. He deflects it easily, a metallic ping ringing out as it bounces off his claws. His expression remains blank— unreadable.

Cocky asshole.

You throw more, stone after stone, not one meeting its target. Gradually, they get bigger and bigger as you continue. He starts the move again when the rocks become too big for him to simply slice through. With a single stomp of your foot, the ground beneath him turns to sand. He sinks down to the ankles and before he can react you harden it to stone. He pulls at his legs uselessly and you can't help but scoff at his efforts.

Try to run away now.

With shaking arms and legs you raise the debris-field around you, thousands of pounds of shattered earth at your command. Your whole body shakes with the effort.

“Is this it? Is this what you wanted?!” You scream at him through ragged breaths.

Logan only stands there, feet trapped in the dirt and ready to accept whatever your blind rage would bring down on him.

But he’s not Logan. 

He is your father. He’s the faceless men that held you in a metal box. He’s every scientist that pricked you with needles. He’s everyone you killed on that boat. He’s Charles. He’s you.

You fall to your hands and knees, the ground cracking and crumbling under your palms. 

You wanted to run away from this. Forget Weapon X ever existed but proof of it has been standing in front of you the whole time. Logan, a man stolen and tortured by the same people who did the same to you. A living weapon. Weapon X incarnate. They wanted to turn you into something like him. You could have been him. 

You could have been him. 

No memories. A quiet rage only scarred people like you recognize. Running until someone like Charles takes pity on you. That’s all anyone ever had for you. Pity. 

In an instant, it’s all still. All that power you were exerting into the earth boils out and rips through your throat in a harrowing scream. Everything falls around you, dust engulfing you in an instant. Long-held-back tears sting at your eyes, finally escaping down your cheeks. You curl into yourself, the earth and your mind finally still.

You don’t register the sound of metal claws digging at the ground. You barely notice the strong arms pulling you in. You think comforting words are being whispered to you, but you can’t bring yourself to listen just yet. 

Slowly the dust settles and you see the destruction you’ve brought to the land you worked so hard to rebuild. It only makes it all hurt more.

You did what he said. Years of holding it down— you let it out. You let it out on him and now he’s holding you like a blubbering child. With the initial anger quelled, the shame finally has a chance to creep in.

You did it again. You destroyed something you love because something was already broken inside you a long time ago. 

Why do I do this? Why do I always do this?

“You’re okay. You’re okay,” Logan's quiet voice breaks through finally.

“Fuck… y-you,” you manage to gasp out between the sobs. They’re harsh words, but you have no strength left to fight him. 

You practically killed him and now he’s comforting you. Was he so desperate for any ounce of knowledge you had… or he was just someone who understood in a way no one else had? You’re not ready to face the implications of it all yet. You’re not sure you’ll ever be. For now, crying will have to do.

The dust has settled completely, covering both of you in a pail brown coat. Still, he doesn’t move, holding you as long as you need. Until the tears settle, until the remaining anger subsides, until your friends gather at the front door in the distance… waiting for you to come home. 

You look up from the crook of his neck, still surrounded by the results of your rage. You’d both sat in the center of a newly formed crater at the center of the yard. 

Sometimes, you forget how destructive you can be when you don’t hold yourself in check. Yet… somehow, you feel lighter. Maybe Logan was right. 

“Is the house still there?” you find yourself asking first. 

“Yeah, hon. She’s still standing just fine,” he answers.

“Told you I could t-take you.” 

“I didn’t doubt you, darlin’.”

A beat. A few wheezed, calming breaths.

“What do you want from me, Logan?” your voice is coming out horse, throat raw from dust and sobbing. 

“Nothin’ you don’t wanna give,” His voice is equally as ragged, “Just stay. Start with that.”

“I don’t think I can anymore.” 

“What… this? This ain’t nothin’. I’ll take the blame,” he nods his head to the side, gesturing back to the house where the X-Men stood silently, “They’re already waitin’ for you.”

And they always would, a hopeful voice echoes in the back of your mind. It’s small, but you still hear it. Maybe even believe it too. 

“Yeah, well, maybe all the self-destruction makes it even for lying to us.” you wipe your eyes, desperately trying to find a little composure again.

“Us, huh?”

“Yeah, us,” you push back against his chest, finally looking him in the eye, “The class fuck ups, remember?”

Part of you was broken, you know that. The same part of him was broken too.

A cauldron of emotions was boiling between you both. You’re not sure where to even begin to sort it out. Part of you is still angry with him. Another part of you pities him— but the biggest part of you just feels safe with him. 

Despite it all, knowing what you both know now, he still made you feel safe.

Your lips find his and he pulls you in close again. This kiss is different from your first. It’s a truce, in a way. Everything’s changed now. You don’t know what this is, you don’t know what you wanted it to be. You just know you still wanted him. Despite it all, you still wanted Logan.

He pulls away, just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“I…I don’t want anything from you,” his voice is just above a whisper. A quiet promise, “That shit hurts, I get it. I won’t make you dig it up. Just stay… please.”

“Logan… I—”

You both jump at the sound of a phone alarm, a melodic beeping coming from Logan’s pocket. You’d heard it before dozens of times— the alert system of the X-Men. Something was wrong. 

“Goddamn it,” Logan pulls out the phone, the yellow X emblem flashing rapidly on the front. You look over to the front door and see the rest of your friends do the same. 

It takes only a moment for Logan to read the message. You see his face drop as he does. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

“The Trask rejects. They’re making a public attack.” He growls out through gritted teeth. 

Impeccable timing.

“Logan,” Scott stands on the edge of your little crater. The rest of the X-Men were already inside, surely preparing for deployment. “We have to go.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, bub,” You feel Logan’s grip tighten. 

“It wasn’t a request,” Scott stands strong, “And we don’t have time to argue. We need the whole team.”

You think for a brief moment Scott means you too. Of course, he doesn’t. It would be a horrible idea. You're emotionally turbulent right now. It could be dangerous. The best thing for you to do is sit down and cool off. Scott was trying to separate you both.

Logan pulls you in tighter.

“I’m not–”

“Logan,” your voice finds strength again. You stand up from his grasp, hugging your arms into yourself. You already miss his warmth, “Go. Just go.”

There’s a flash of pain in his eyes but you think he understands what you’re really asking for. 

Space. I need a little space.

Logan stands, dusting himself off in the process. Scott, seemingly satisfied with Logan’s efforts, makes his way back to the house. 

Still, Logan pauses. 

“Will you be here when I get back?” There’s almost a pleading in his voice.

“Logan, I—”

“Let's go, Wolverine!” Scott’s voice cuts through the tension. You're almost thankful for it.  

Logan grimaces before stepping out of the crater. He pauses at the top, back to you and fists clenched at his sides. He storms up to the house without turning around. 

You collapse back down into the dirt, burying your face in your hands. You’re not sure how long you sit there until you find the strength to get back up.

__________

The mansion is eerily quiet. A house this big should never be this quiet. Rooms upon rooms that should be filled with children giggling. Gossip spreading like wildfire. Someone sharing a first kiss or first cigarette. Normal kid things that non-normal kids get to do in peace. 

You used to be one of them. 

It’s late. You stalk the dark halls of the mansion like a ghost. You heard Charles come up from Cerebro over an hour ago— a good sign the team was successful in their mission. He’s been sitting in his study ever since and you can’t seem to work up the courage to confront him. 

It’s only the two of you in this big house. Not a single thing is standing in your way except your pride. He’ll wait for you to make the first move. You’re not sure what you’re going to say to him, but you know you have to say something.

How dare you?

Sorry I re-wrecked the lawn?

I thought I wanted to be an X-Man again, but Logan has made this all vastly more complicated and I’m not sure I can forgive you for keeping such a big secret from me?

Decisions, decisions. 

You sit on the bench just down the hall from his study, the same place you’d sat so many times before waiting for a lecture. This time is no different, you suppose. 

Once a student, always a student. 

“I’m old, you know,” Charles’s baritone voice booms from his office, “I can’t do these late nights as well as I used to.”

It’s a gentle encouragement. He probably has a migraine from overhearing your raging stream of consciousness while managing an actual crisis. He wanted to discuss this like adults— You did too. Unfortunately, only one of you really knew how to be an adult. 

Mostly you just wanted to get it over with.

With a heavy sigh, you push yourself to your feet. You shuffle into his office, tail between your legs. He sat by his desk, his chair turned to face out the window behind the desk. You quietly take a seat next to him. The sense of betrayal was still there but it was now mixed with a healthy dose of regret.

You both silently look out over what was going to be a beautiful garden— now in ruins once more. 

“How are they doing?” you meekly ask. 

“The offenders are all finally apprehended and contained,” Charles answers bluntly. Neither of you turns to face the other. “Everyone is okay. They should be back within the hour.”

You simply nod, staring blankly out the window. You’re not sure how to start this. You didn’t really want to begin with. 

“You want to ask me why I didn’t tell you about Logan’s history right away.” His words cut through you. Charles wanted to get this over with too, you suppose. 

“Well… why didn’t you?”

“Would you have come if you’d have known?”

You don’t answer— not out loud at least. The silence is answer enough.

“Why didn’t you tell him about me, then?” You press forward. 

“That’s not mine to tell, now is it?” You can almost feel his eyebrows raising, “Logan has a long journey ahead of him. I will help him in whatever ways I can, but that is my burden to bear. Not yours,” you hear the pain in his voice. The sincerity. He’d seen what you’d been through. He’d likely seen what Logan had been through—parts of it at least. Charles always knew everyone's pain. Always carried it with him.

“Would you have ever told him about me?”

“Only if you wanted. Only if the situation presented itself. I must admit, I didn’t anticipate you two getting so close.”

“Making us kiss wasn’t part of your master plan?” You scoff. 

“I like to think of myself as a decent storyteller but I’ve never been much good at writing romance.” He lets out a small chuckle, “Though I should have known you’d be a bad influence on each other.”

He’s trying to lighten the mood. You can’t blame him, but there are still things you want to know. Things you need answers to. 

“When was he…there?”

You can’t say its name anymore. Not tonight at least.

“Years before you. I’m not entirely sure when. I believe he was the very beginning. You were the beginning of the end.”

The answer doesn’t bring you the comfort you thought it would. There may be some solace in knowing he wasn’t locked up in that boat with you. He was their first test, and he got out. You both got out. 

“Why am I here, Charles?”

He lets your question linger longer than you’d like. Jean could have likely done the work you’ve been doing. Hank would have been more than happy to plan the tunnels. You didn’t need to come back. Not really. He risked a lot bringing you here with Logan. 

Charles takes a deep breath.

“I won’t deny I could have handled this better, but I can be a selfish man sometimes. Every now and again I get reminded how fragile this little world I’ve built here is. How vulnerable we all can be. As a teacher, I always found it difficult to detach myself from my students completely. Checking up every now and again is a thing of habit for me. I hear all the things no one else can hear. I know it can be lonely out there. I know self-doubt is rampant. But I could help… If I could bring everyone home and remind them that they’re loved–”

“Charles,” you don’t mean to interrupt, but if you didn’t he’d ramble on forever and you wouldn’t ever get a straight answer. Even if he was just reminding you of things he’d already told you a million years ago.

“Something terrible happened here, and I got scared.” Charles admits with a heavy sigh, “I got scared and I wanted something. I wanted those closest to me to feel safe again. And, selfishly, I wanted to feel safe by having those I loved back home. I didn’t consider the larger consequences of those actions, and I am sorry. I just found an excuse to call a child home.”

You almost choke out a sob. Fortunately, your tear ducts seem to have had enough crying for one night. 

You hated that he could always do this. You came in here so ready to be furious with him. You were so ready to give him a piece of your mind and storm off. Tell him you’re never coming back to this godforsaken school again. 

“I’m not your child, Charles.” You coldly say instead. 

“No… No, you’re not.” He turns his chair slightly to face you. You finally look him in the eye. Despite it all, he still smiles warmly. “You’re my student. Always will be.”

You were wrong, a few stray tears still escape. 

He opens his arms without hesitation when you lean into him, muffled I’m sorry’s said into his suit’s lapels. This was a familiar scene. You’d been here so many times with Charles. God, he even smelled the same. Some old man cologne you could never place. He’d talked you down so many times in school and now he was still doing it into your adulthood. You never felt like you deserved his patience. Maybe you could try a little harder to earn it though.

You pull away, wiping your nose for hopefully the last time tonight. You both gaze back out over the decimated garden. Well, that was the hardest part done. Now there’s just the matter of Logan.

“You think I can help him?” You ask.

“I think you can help each other… if you want to.”

“What if I don’t want to help him?”

“Then don’t.”

You roll your eyes at his bluntness, “Say what you really mean, Charles.”

 “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” He starts to move his chair around the desk.

“But?” You prod, following behind him.

He halts in the middle of the room, “But you might be denying helping yourself then. You’ve been fighting these demons too long, my dear. Face them. He can help you face them.”

You do believe it wasn’t Charles’s intent for all this to happen when you brought you here. He and the team respected both your and Logan’s privacy by not telling the other. You and Logan opened this book together unknowingly. It’s too late to close it, and it’s too big to just ignore. 

Charles makes his way to the door, but you still have one more thing to say. Or really, one more thing to ask.

“I was—I was going to ask to stay. Before…before everything.”

“Do you still want to stay?” He pauses at the door.

“Do you want me to?”

“Well of course I do… you need to fix the mess you’ve made of my gardens and finally plant those damned flowers.”

_________

You stand in front of the full mirror in your room, an ill-fitting navy blue shirt with a bright yellow X plastered across the chest hastily draped over your body. Jean always kept a few changes of school clothes in all the closets. All of your clothes were dirty, so this was the only option. Your regression back to a new student was complete now. If you were a more superstitious person, you take this as an omen— whether it was good or bad, you hadn’t decided yet.

You collapse face-first into the bed. It felt nice to be clean after everything today. You’d practically turned the floor of the shower black with all the dirt that was caked on your body. At least you finally got that shower.

You’re still here, after everything you’re still here… probably for the long run. You tell yourself you’re going to sleep on it tonight, but your mind is practically already made up. It would hurt, you’d be challenged, but you wanted to be here. You wanted to just fucking try again. The X-Men, your friends, they brought out the best and worst in you, but that’s what family does, isn’t it? That’s what you were always told, anyway.

You think you heard the team land while you were in the shower. They were home, and the mission successfully completed.

There was still one more thing you wanted before you made your final decision. One more thing you had to face to see if this would all be worth it. You sit up, face the door, and wait. You asked him to come to your room tonight, you hope he’d still come. 

Eventually, there’s a knock.

It’s almost embarrassing how fast you jump for the door. You pull it open and there he is, still fully suited up in lemon yellow with the fresh smell of smoke and sweat wafting off of him. To your surprise, it’s not entirely unpleasant. 

“You….You stayed.” He says first. 

“I did.”

“Finally got that shower too, huh?”

“I did.”

That’s the extent of the introduction. You both stand there awkwardly for a beat. Neither of you knows how to start this. You didn’t necessarily end on the best note. You didn’t start on the best note either.

You both decide to break the silence at the same time.

“How was—

“I’m sorry you—”

You both catch yourself before continuing. God, why was this so hard? Luckily, Logan is the first one to try again. 

“I uh— I wanted to say I’m sorry,” His gaze dropped to the floor, “I’m sorry you got roped into my shit.”

“Logan, you don’t—”

“I’d understand if you don’t want to see me again,” he looks back up at you, “If you want me to leave, I’ll go. If you’re gonna stay for the long run, I’ll leave.”

Unbelievable. This man was absolutely unbelievable. He gets back from saving the goddamn world and comes straight to your room to say you can kick him out of his house. How do you tell him that’s not an option? How do you tell him you want to start over with all this?

Actions were so much easier than words.

Your hands snake up his arms gently as you step closer. You think you feel him relax under your touch. His hands find your waist as yours loop around his neck. You pull each other into the kiss, sensual and slow. Everything you’d shared so far had been violent or painful in a way. This was… it was nice. A quiet embrace in the early hours of the morning. Two people seeking comfort in each other's arms. Simple. You liked simple.

He pushes you both further into the bedroom. Excitement pricks at your every nerve but you still have more to say. You need to get it out. You need to. He has to know before you forget to say it. 

I think you can help each other… if you want to.

“Logan—” you pull away, almost painfully. “Just… wait.”

He leans back, “We don’t have to—”

“No! God no, I want to! But—” you shake your head, desperately trying to gather yourself despite the aching that was building inside you, “I wanted to say— I wanted to tell you, I— I want to help. I want to help you— help both of us. I want to try at least.”

You feel him tense under your touch. Great, another moment ruined by your self-righteous big mouth. 

He looks you in the eye, expression almost pained. “Darlin’, I told you, you don’t—”

“I know,” your fists curl around his collar, “But I want to. I’ve been… I’ve been running from this a long time, Logan— ignoring it almost. I think you have too. They need to pay…For what they took from me. For what they took from you. I don’t remember much but… I know names. Locations. Places we can—”

His lips crash back into yours, hands squeezing your body flush with his. He kicks the door shut behind him and walks you both backward towards the bed.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” he growls, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of your neck. “Fucking unbelievable.”

“Logan—” You moan, clawing your hands through his hair. 

You both collapse back onto the bed, the wooden frame creaking in protest. Your movements get more frenzied. You claw at the various zippers and latches of his suit while his hands drag down your body, pulling off your shorts in the process. Your quickly dampening underwear stays in place. You manage to get the upper half of the suit open. He leans back, pulling off the top of his suit the rest of the way. You peel off your own shirt as he does so. You look at him towering and bare-chested above you, his knees caging your hips in. Only one thought flashes through your mind. 

Holy fucking shit.

“God, look at you,” he breathes, rough hands finding your body again. He cups your breast, “Fucking look at you, sweet thing.”

His mouth comes down over a nipple, fingers rolling over the free one. You arch under him, hands clawing up and down his back. God, his body is so warm against yours. So heavy.

He grinds into you as his tongue moves to your other peaked breast, his hardening length rubbing against your pulsing cunt. These underwear are probably be ruined after this. 

His movements were rough, almost desperate. You loved it, you loved every fucking bit of it. 

His mouth comes off your breast with a small pop. He glides his nose over your heaving chest with a deep inhale, small kisses peppering your skin as he moves. Slowly, he moves down your torso, pausing at the hem of your panties. 

“Oh God, Logan—” You gasp, feeling his hot breath against your waiting pussy. He places a sloppy kiss over the already damp fabric, tongue rubbing against your clothed bud. An almost pained gasp escapes your lips. 

“I really do like the way you say my name,” his mouth moves to your inner thigh, fingers curling around the hem of your last scrap of clothing. “God, you’re so—”

A single claw unsheathes. The blunt side runs against your skin as he slides it under your panties at the apex of your thigh. The cool metal sends electric shivers up your body. He rips through the fabric with ease, the claw retracting as soon as you’re fully exposed before him. He takes his time pulling away the final scraps of your underwear, rough hands leaving goosebumps in their wake. Yep, definitely ruined.

His eyes come up to meet yours, his brow heavy over them, deep brown and almost animalistic. 

You all but scream when he comes down on you. His mouth engulfs your entire cunt, tongue running up your seam and circling around your clit. Your legs curl around his head, hands shooting out to grip his hair. A growl rumbles up from his throat when you pull and reverberates through your whole body. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. His movements are almost frenzied again. Stubble rubbing against your sensitive skin as his tongue attacks your pussy, hands squeezing your hips so hard to the point of bruising— pulling you impossibly closer. 

“Taste so good, baby,” he moans against your mound, “Knew you would. First time I saw you, I knew you—”

His tongue flattens against your seam, slowly dragging up and pausing at your bud. You gasp when you feel a finger breach you, curling against that delicious soft spot inside. His mouth and fingers work in unison, pulling heated breaths out of you almost rhythmically. 

He’s good at this. Fuck, he’s really good. 

That familiar heat starts to build in your stomach as he works you slowly, his rhythm getting rougher and rougher as he goes. Mouth sucking as his fingers curl, back and forth, back and forth. He’s fucking enjoying this, you think. The thought makes you even more excited. He wanted to take his time with you, selfishly milking sinful moan after sinful moan out of you as he did so. 

Too bad you’d been sexually pent up for god knows how long. 

The heat rises in your stomach. 

“L-Logan–I–I—” the words barely make it out. 

His heavy-lidded eyes shoot up to yours, “Give it to me.” He growls against you, “Let me feel you.”

His tongue circles your clit once— twice—

Your back arches off the bed with a pained moan ripping through your throat. You push him closer as liquid fire pulses through your veins. His mouth doesn’t leave you the whole time, tongue in a frenzy of movements as your orgasm rocks through you. He draws it out longer. Makes it stronger. 

Even when the initial wave subsides, his mouth doesn’t leave you. You squirm under him, hypersensitive and brain fogged over with pleasure you didn’t realize you’d desperately missed. 

“L-Logan… Please,” You pull at his hair. 

He stills, pulling off of you slowly. He leans back, chin dripping with your release. His hands stroke gently up and down your shaking legs. You look down and see the straining bulge in his pants, a faint wet mark forming against his thigh. 

You sit up, hands trailing up his heaving chest and looping back around his neck. You pull him in, tasting yourself on his tongue. He grasps the back of your head and pulls at your hair just slightly. You push against him, he falls back on the bed. You hover over him, bringing your hands down to his belt. You undo the clasp and he pulls them off the rest of the way, his pulsing hard cock finally springing free.

Holy fucking shit— you think for the second time tonight. 

He gives himself a rough stroke, a bead of pre cum escaping his already wet head. You can’t resist the sight. You lean down and drag your tongue over the tip to lick it up. He hisses in a sharp breath as you do. 

“What do you want?” you whisper against him. You’d honestly be happy with any answer.

He moans at your words, hands coming up to cup your breasts again. 

“Wanna see you ride me, tough girl,” you swear his voice has dropped an entire octave. “Want you to take me. Wanna see that pretty pussy stretch around me.”

You feel his hips squirming ever so slightly. It felt so powerful to have a man like him underneath you, almost begging. 

You place your hands on his massive chest as you lean forward. You can’t help but touch him— Maybe even dreaming about touching these fucking muscles. You can’t resist giving his pecs a rough squeeze when you do. He hums in approval, his hands trailing down to your rising hips. 

You drag your sopping cunt along his cock a few times before lining up with him. Small gasps escape as you do. The motion was just as much for your pleasure as it was for ease. Logan was big, and with no lube, you’ll need a little extra help. 

His grip tightens when you start to take him, a low rumble starting in his throat and traveling through his chest. You feel it reverberate up your arms. Your legs are only a little shaky but you manage. You finally let out a heavy breath when you bottom out. You take a moment to savor the feeling. It’s a stretch, but not at all unpleasant. You’re so full. So fucking full. 

“Fuck.” Logan hisses underneath you, “F-fuck, you’re so—move, baby. You gotta move or—”

You immediately oblige, rolling your hips against his. You find a rhythm, slow and sensual. His head tilts back into the pillows, his jaw tensed to the point where you can see almost all the lines and veins in his neck. You rise, pulling him out just a little more with each thrust. He practically drools out the most delicious moan you’ve ever heard.

You love seeing him like this, see him falling apart for you. You made The Wolverine into this. 

The pain of being stretched so wide starts to subside, melting into your building pleasure. You shift, and your movements become more deliberate. Searching almost. You gasp out when you find it, that spot that makes your vision go blurry. You grind down against it again and again and again.

“God, that’s it, darlin’,” Logan chokes out, “T-take it. Take what you need.”

His hands shoot up to your breast again, giving them a rough squeeze. His fingers massage into the soft, sensitive flesh there, thumbs brushing over your peaked nipples. 

“Christ, you’re beautiful,” he praises, the white of his teeth flashing in a grin. 

You’d probably blush at the compliment in any other situation. Instead, you lean down and kiss him. It’s messy, a bunch of feverish tongue and teeth but, god, it was perfect. You drink down each other's moans, gasping for breath in each other's air as you grind into him. 

Your hips start to betray you, the fatigue catching up the muscles in your legs. It’d been so long since you’d gone this hard with anyone. You weren’t out of practice by maybe a little out of shape. You lose your rhythm just a little, but Logan doesn’t seem to entirely mind, but he does seem to take notice.

His hips rise, giving you a few experiment thrusts before he sits up, pulling your chest flush with his. Your movements are subdued into small rolls against him, an entirely new pressure against your clit.

 His lips still haven’t left yours. They don’t leave as he pushes you further back. They don’t leave when you collapse into the sheets and he crawls on top of you. They don’t leave when he almost completely pulls out of you and slams back in. 

“Fuck!” You scream. You think you hear him chuckle as he pulls out again. His laugh is slowly overtaken by a moan as he slides back in. Gentler, slower this time. 

His mouth trails down to your neck again, nipping and suckling in ways that would surely show tomorrow. The thought of people seeing what he did to you excites you.

You hook your legs around his hips. He rises from you, just for a moment.

Seeing this massive man hover above you was a sight you wanted permanently burned into your brain. His massive arms caging you in, veins popping against the tense muscles. His chest is red with claw marks from your hands. Eyes glossed over with animalistic bliss.

This was fucking, hard and dirty fucking in almost every sense of the word000 sure. But there was something about it that made your mind go fuzzy. The deliberateness of it all. The roaming hands and heated eye contact. Not just pleasure for pleasure’s sake, but connection. Making love.

Neither of you wanted just a quick dirty fuck to get it out of your system. Something more. This all had the potential to be something more.

For now though, hard and dirty was still good. 

He bites at your lip with a growl and you moan at the prick of pain. All of you, Christ he wanted all of you. You’ll give it to him—gladly. 

You shift your hips and you feel it again— that perfect spot. He notices. 

“That’s it, huh?” he grunts, thrusting back into the exact same spot again. “Oh yeah, that’s it.” 

His mouth attacks you while his cock makes you go cross-eyed. This can’t be real. He can’t be real. You died. You’d crushed both of your bodies under the yard hours ago and this was some sadistic heaven your dying brain had cooked up. 

That’s the only explanation for something feeling this good. 

He licks his fingers, two of them finding your clit as soon as they leave his mouth. 

“Give it to me. You got one more don’t you, sweetheart?” he purrs against you, “Give me another one. W-wanna… wanna feel you… Fuck.”

“Oh G-god, oh fuck, oh God—” You chant, seemingly unable to say or process anything else in the blinding pleasure.

Your hips raise, grinding into his palm while his cock continues to drill into you. The feeling comes on fast. It was building in you again. You become desperate for it, that sweet impending release. You claw at his neck for any sense of stability.

“N-need you, Lo-Logan,” you find yourself begging, “N-need to feel y-you—Wanna feel you—”

“C-christ, don’t say that,” he growls, “Give me one more. One more more and—and I—”

He trails off, losing himself in his sporadic thrusts. He was getting close, his movements getting more desperate— but you were close too.

He ruts into you, rolling his hips against yours and you’re done for.

“L-Logan! I– I’m–”, you can’t finish, your words melting into a silent scream. You arch and squirm under him. He continues to relentlessly pound into you, chasing his own high. 

“Oh— G-God— Y-you— You’re so—” his lips crash back down to yours, a growling moan reverberating down your throat. You drink him in selfishly. His hips still against yours, his cock pulsing and spilling into you. You grasp at him, pulling him close as you both lose yourselves in the waves of white-hot pleasure together.

You don’t know how long you both hold each other there, lost in the euphoria of it all. Eventually, your muscles start to loosen

His lips leave yours with a ragged gasp like he’s desperate for air. His sweat-slicked forehead lowers down to yours. You both hover there for a moment, choking on each other's air. His eyes bore into yours. 

You can still feel him pulsing inside you.

“Holy shit,” you break the silence with a small giggle.

He chuckles back, placing a kiss on your forehead.

He rises, pulling out of you with a moan and you gasp at the sudden emptiness. He collapses next to you, hand still lying heavy across your stomach. 

“So… you’re gonna stay?” he asks, thumb rubbing comforting circles on your sensitive skin. 

“Only if you keep that up every night,” you joke back.

He nips at your neck with a growl, “Don’t tempt me, honey.”

God, what have you unleashed. 

He curls around you, pulling the covers up over the both of you. The exhaustion was creeping in. It had been a long day. He pauses, looking at you almost for permission. He’s wondering if his assumptions about staying the night have maybe crossed the line. You simply smile and pull the covers up the rest of the way.

You rest your head in the crook of his neck as he pulls you in closer. Your hand finds his own, resting on top of his chest. You run your fingers between his knuckles. There weren’t even scars to show. To your surprise, he doesn’t flinch away. 

“I meant what I said earlier,” you assure him, “I… I want to help you. Help us.”

You feel his breath hitch just a little as his fingers close down around yours. 

“I know you will, darlin’.”

“I don’t know where we’ll start, but—”

“Don’t,” his nose nudges your head gently, “You don’t have to prove anything to me. I told you you don’t owe me anything. Just stay. Start with that.”

You don’t think you’ll ever understand how he can quell your anxieties with so few words. Maybe it was the reassurance in his voice. The confidence. You place a gentle kiss on his chest. 

Your scars are the same as mine.

It was the unspoken words between the two of you since the beginning, whether you knew it or not. Something inside the both of you knew the other— stripped away all the layers and saw what was underneath.

Someone who was just like them. What a rare thing to find.

“I’m happy I came home, Logan.”

“Me too, darlin’. Me too.”

____________

Hope you loved it! I loved writing these two. I might do a little one shot or two, not sure yet. Just not quite ready to let them go. Let me know if you want more of these idiots!

[endlessthxxghts]

You Better Jump... (1 of 2)

neighbor!joel miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈2.5k

Summary: You wake up after a drunk night out to the lock on your door broken. The neighbor who lives in the same apartment complex as you offers to fix it for you.

Warnings: canon divergent (no outbreak) & mentions of Sarah but we don't see or interact with her (AU - she moved out, lives on her own). allusions to further sexual activity between reader and Joel, mainly fluff and flirting and embarrassing interactions that'll give you butterflies, an unhinged best friend (vulgar dialogue from said best friend), cellphone audio connecting elsewhere where other people can hear..., 18+ MDNI. F masturbation in a bathtub, Joel having incredible self control until he doesn't, making out... (I think that's it! As always, let me know if there's anything I missed that should be in here!)

Author's note: I intended for this to be a one shot, but I just know the next part will be pretty long. I still need to write up a few more details for part 2, but it will be posted VERY SOON! For now, please enjoy this. :)

PART 2 HERE (VERY NSFW, 18+ MDNI)!! || MASTERLIST

“Shit, I don’t even know which lock to get,” you mutter to yourself as you stand helplessly in the middle of the aisle. 

You went to the bar last night, got a little too drunk for your own good, and when you woke up in the morning, your front door’s lock was broken. You genuinely don’t know how that happened, but you do know that you need to fix it as soon as possible, especially with the fact that you just moved in not too long ago and you live alone. 

“Hey there,” a rough Texan drawl says, pulling you out of your thoughts. You look up to see a tall, broad man. Soft, brown eyes, a mustache and some scruff along his jawline. He’s clad in a dark blue t-shirt and some jeans. He’s handsome, and oh god, you’ve been completely gawking at him instead of responding. You finally meet his stare, and his eyes twinkle in delight, like he’s enjoying the attention you’re giving him. “Oh, hi, uh- I’m sorry, just kinda zoned out there for a sec,” you ramble on, trying to save yourself from the embarrassment. 

“Oh,” he chuckles, “don’t worry about that.” He smiles, and you’ve never experienced anything more beautiful. “I, uh, couldn’t help but recognize ya, and overhear ya about the locks?” You give a confused look, and he continues, “I think we live in the same apartment complex. You just moved in a few weeks ago, right? I’m Joel.” 

You are seriously so confused right now because you are so sure you would never forget if you had a neighbor that looks this handsome. And apparently all your defenses are down right now because you just fucking said that out loud. 

You can see Joel’s cheeks and neck flush into a bright red, his hand shooting up to rub the back of his neck and the blush in your face follows. “Holy shit, I did not just fucking say that out loud,” you groan as you bury your hands into your face. You realize you still haven’t introduced your name, so you quickly squeak it out. He tells you it’s nice to meet you followed by your name, and he rambles on, “And I, uh, I’m flattered...you’re, uh, not too bad yourself.” Your head shoots up, and you swear your face cannot get even redder, but somehow it does. 

He senses that you can’t handle anymore of this god awful attempt at flirting, so he saves you by continuing his original thought. “Well, what I was tryna say was- I overheard you sayin’ ya didn’t know which lock to choose? I’m pretty handy in the maintenance department, and I’ve helped a few neighbors in our complex with much more complicated than door locks. Maybe I can help ya?” You feel all the stress from your body completely fade away, and you absolutely take advantage of this beautiful man offering to help with your locks. 

“Oh my god, really? I owe you one, thank you so so much,” you tell him. He smiles. “It’s no trouble at all, darlin,’” he says as he grabs the correct lock for the apartment complex, “this is the one we’d need.” 

All you came here for was for the lock, but you ended up staying with him and having conversation throughout his entire Home Depot run. Turns out he’s a contractor, used to live in a home but since his daughter moved out he doesn’t find the necessity of having a big home for himself. He didn’t sell it though, he let his brother and his wife take it over. Very minimalist kind of guy. 

You forget you two didn’t drive to the store together, so you’re almost kind of bummed at the fact that you have to separate from him. He bids you goodbye and says he has to run a few more errands. “Shouldn’t be more than an hour or two. Is it okay if I swing by your place then?” 

You’ve been so entranced by his presence and your guys’ conversation that you forgot the entire reasoning behind why you began talking in the first place, and it’s heavily evident in your confused look. His lip quirks up again, “…to fix your door lock,” he adds, amused. 

You mentally slap your forehead. Fucking get it together, you think to yourself. “Yes,” you immediately blabber out as soon as you realize you’ve gone quiet again. “Yes, that’s perfect.” 

“Alright, darlin’, I’ll see you in a few,” he says as he shoots you a wink and begins walking in the direction of his truck, and there goes that nickname again. 

Oh, you are absolutely fucked.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It’s a ten minute drive back home, and as soon as you get back in the car, you call your best friend and tell her what an absolute fool you made out of yourself. 

“BITCH,” she screams, gasping for air at how hard she’s laughing, “I can’t fucking stand you, oh my god, I’m crying.” 

“You’re such a bitch,” you tell her, while tears are also streaming down your face, attempting to catch your breath. “Dude, I swear, once you get a good look at him, you’ll see what the fuck I’m talking about, and you’ll see my reaction was VALID to such a beautiful looking man.” 

She stays on the phone with you for the rest of your little drive, and ends your guys’ conversation with, “In all seriousness, though, you better jump on that di-”

You gasp out and yell her name, “OH MY GOD, you’re done. Goodbye.” 

She cackles, “Update me later, babe. I love you.” 

“I love you more, you fuckin’ menace,” you say as you park. 

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Your next few hours are filled with you absolutely stressing. You know Joel is just coming to fix the door, but you can’t shake away the nerves. So you spend the first hour absolutely deep cleaning your apartment. 

You still have about maybe an hour left, so you decide to try and calm your nerves some more with a quick bath. You quickly undress and give yourself a quick wash in the shower to wash all of today’s dirt before you set up your bath. 

Filling up the tub, you throw in some lavender scented bubbles and light your favorite cashmere vanilla candle, the combination of the scents immediately relaxing you. Maybe a little too relaxed, though, because as you sink deeper into the tub, your body can’t help but continue to rise in heat at the thought of Joel. Without thinking, your eyes slowly close and your hand drifts closer to where you’re aching the most. 

You start by drawing soft circles on your clit, pulling soft little mewls from your throat. The thought of those big rough hands pushes you to move a little faster, and the thought of that scruff rubbing against your inner thigh pushes you to dip your middle and ring finger into your entrance, pumping in and out with such a need you haven’t experienced in a while. The sounds coming out of you now are high pitched and whiny, and you can’t help the way your body writhes against the bathtub, sloshing water out the sides. 

Your hips are grinding up against your palm, stimulating your clit while your fingers hit that velvety spot that drives you absolutely mad. You bring your other hand up to your mouth as a reflex to silence your sounds, but an image flashes in your mind that it was Joel’s hand over your mouth instead, and that’s what ends you. 

Your eyes clamp shut, head thrown back, spine completely arched, and all you can see are little white fireworks behind your eyelids as your orgasm breaks you, the lukewarm water feeling hotter than when you first drew the bath. 

You sit there for a moment to catch your breath, willing your body to work since the man you just touched yourself to should be here in any minute. 

You dry yourself off, putting your hair up in a towel and dressing in some gray sweat-shorts and a tank top, not caring to completely doll your figure since he’s in your home after all. Right as you finish up your skincare, you hear a knock at your door. You take one more look at yourself, and you’re still absolutely flushed with a hint of that orgasmic glow, but you can’t bring yourself to care. If he can make you cum like that with just the thought of him, you’re absolutely gonna take your best friend’s advice from earlier. 

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You open the door for him and immediately the heat you tried to save yourself from is back, tenfold. “Hey, darlin’,” he says with a smile. The nickname makes the butterflies in your tummy flutter harder than before. You give a sweet smile back. It’s his turn to melt, but you don’t clock it as easily as he can with you. 

He steps inside, a little closer to you, and immediately he falls to his knees. You watch him, wide-eyed, as he pulls out a few little tools from his back pocket, and suddenly you realize you were holding your breath. Here he is, wasting no time getting started on fixing your door for you while you stare at him like he’s giving you a strip tease, all because he got down on his knees. 

You clear your throat, trying to regain your composure, and you offer, “C-can I get you anything to drink? Water, coffee, tea?” 

He looks up at you, and he cannot get enough. Your flushed cheeks, the way your body language shows your excitement and nerves all in one, your towel lopsided on your head. So goddamn beautiful, he thinks to himself. Again, it’s his turn as he zones out in his thoughts, but this time, you do notice, and you can’t help but feel a sense of confidence shoot down your spine at the fact that you’re affecting him just as much as he affects you. 

Your smirk grows the longer he stares, and finally he realizes what’s happening, and his face goes tomato red. He’s pretty sure no one has ever seen him blush this much since he was a teenager. “Some water would be wonderful, sweetheart, thank you,” he says, thanking whatever God in existence that his words were coherent and not a blubbering mess like his brain. 

“Coming right up,” you say, and make your way into your kitchen, thankful for the little private moment to yourself. As you grab Joel a cup and fill it with ice and water, you feel your phone ring in your pocket. It’s your best friend. You bring your phone to your ear, hitting the answer button on the way up. 

“Hello?” you repeat several times before you hear your best friend, but not through your phone. Forgetting the water for a minute, you scramble to the living room, where Joel is right next to, to hear your best friend coming from your living room speaker: Hello? Can you hear me?? I said did you jump on sexy neighbor’s dick ye-

You hurriedly end the call and throw your phone across the room. Your heart starts to pound even harder when you see Joel in your peripheral view, still working hard on the lock, but he is definitely in the proximity to have seen and heard everything. You quickly turn back to the kitchen to grab the glass, purposely avoiding Joel’s eye.

Quickly you grab the glass and place it on the little table near the front door. Joel sits back on his haunches for a moment and takes a long gulp of the ice cold water. Too amused at the display that happened moments ago, he can’t help himself when he says, “So… sounds like ya got your hands full with that friend of yours, hm?” He looks up at you with mischief in his eye. 

And just like that, any sense of confidence you had at having the upper hand over this Texan man went down the drain. You completely fumble. “Oh- I- yeah, my best friend… Did you hear- Fuck, no, of course you heard, I-” 

Joel pulls himself up to stand at full height, now towering over you. He brings his pointer finger and thumb to your chin, pulling you to meet his eyes while also pulling you from the hole you keep digging deeper. You immediately shut up. He has a crooked grin plastered on his face when he says, “I didn’t hear a thing,” followed by a wink. You can feel your knees wanting to buckle. You breathily squeak out an okay and he assures you with another okay in response. You two stare into each other’s eyes for a moment before Joel, without thinking, says, “Let me take ya out to dinner.” 

You slowly pull away from his grasp, afraid you’re invading his space even though he just asked you out on a date. He takes it as a sign of discomfort and immediately creates an arm’s length of space between you. “I-I’m sorry if I overstepped or made you uncomfor-” 

“No, Joel, hey,” you cut him off quickly, stepping slightly closer. “You just surprised me, that’s all. I’d love to go to dinner with you,” you beam up at him, your bottom lip wedged in your mouth to ease your nervousness. “I just pulled away because I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything,” you quickly add. 

“That’ll never happen,” he softly says. He steps closer again. “I’m sorry, but I- Shit, okay, I’m a gentleman through and through, but I-” he pauses for a moment, “I just- I really need to kiss you-” 

You don’t let him finish his thought as you grab onto his arms and pull him into you, guiding both his arms around your lower back and guiding your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. It’s a battle of teeth and tongue, and the way your noses bump each other ever so often is enough for you to completely buckle. His hold on you is tight enough to keep you standing, but you truly don’t know how much more of this you can take with a certain bulge pushing into your lower belly. His one hand falls lower and testing the waters, he lightly grasps onto your asscheek. You moan into his mouth at that, and he takes that as your signal for him to fully grab you, hiking you up onto your tippy toes in an attempt to consume more of you. He breaks the kiss a little to give you some airflow back, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he brings his kisses to the side of your mouth, to your cheek, gliding down your jaw and neck, licking and nipping anywhere you give him access to. 

You were right. It’s not quite exactly your thighs like you were imagining earlier, but the way his plump lips, mustache, and scruff feel along your neck is absolutely sinful and addicting, and…

Oh, you are absolutely fucked. 

Author's note - extended: I hope you guys enjoyed this enough to tune in to part 2! The 2nd part will be very SMUTTY, so... ;)

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

[esggs]

“It’s just… it’s been 16 years since…” Yuuji finds it difficult to put it into words.. “... since he last saw Divine Dog White…” 

[when your kids inherit the Ten Shadows, Megumi Fushiguro gets to meet a long lost fluffy friend again]

[1.5k words   |   fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, post-canon   |   part of Obeisance to The Arrow universe]

“Hito, Kiko, don’t.” Noritoshi glares at the twins who have been caught red handed trying to ride atop the pair of dogs. In fact, it’s the 4th time they’ve been caught. They refuse to stop trying. “Just sit, okay? Just sit down for a bit. Let dad make his call.”

Noritoshi Kamo is tired. Truly, soulfully, tired. His day began at 5 am today, because you had to go to work earlier than usual, and are still not back yet. Handling 4 kids and their own separate timetables all day, while working as a teacher for Jujutsu High… at 34, he’s not old, but goddamn does his body ache like it is. And now, when he was looking forward to putting the kids to bed and waiting for you to come back and uncork this good vintage and maybe wear that nice lingerie you bought last week and be asleep by 10 pm, when tonight was supposed to go like all other nights, he’s got a huge fucking emergency on his hands. Not that he can show it, of course, in front of the kids. 

“C’mon, pick up, pick up. Asahito! I swear, if I see you– Tsukiko! Tsukiko, hands where I can see them! Good, okay, now sit down and count till 100.” Noritoshi is doing his level best to maintain any semblance of calmness. It isn’t working. Naomi and Chihiro, the older two kids, are terrified. Their usually monk-calm dad is frantically calling people, while his Flowing Red Scale is on, as are two discs of Slicing Exorcisms, ready to strike at the slightest provocation. Not at them, of course, but still. The twins, Hito and Kiko, are too young to realise the gravity of the situation. 

Click. Finally.

“Hey Noritoshi, it’s me, Yuuji. Megumi’s driving right now.”

“Yuuji!” Damn, Yuuji thinks, the man seems out of breath. “Give the phone to Megumi, quick.”

‘But he’s driving, we were playing basketball and now we’re coming ba–”

“Put it on speaker then! Yuuji, it’s urgent.”

“Huh? Wait.” Yuuji puts him on speakerphone and gasps. “Oh my God, is y/n pregnant again?”

“What?” 

“Damn, that’s your fifth one.” Yuuji chuckles. “You must really like being a dad.” 

“It’s not–”

“Five is a lot though –”

“MEGUMI!” Noritoshi shouts out. “Are you there?”

“Yeah” Megumi leans towards the phone that Yuuji is holding out. “Congrats, Noritoshi.”

“Oh, Megumi, thank God.” Noritoshi’s voice is palpably more stable. “y/n isn’t pregnant. The twins’ cursed technique showed up, about 5 minutes ago. Megumi, they have the Ten Shadows.”

Megumi almost crashes the car.

—------- 

“Noritoshi, love, I’m here!” You’ve run all the way from the parked car to your drawing room. It’s bursting with people: Noritoshi (battle-ready), Naomi and Chihiro (hiding behind their dad), Yuuji (fascinated), Megumi (teaching the twins to release the large black dog that’s running amok amid your fragile china-display and Edo era vases), and your little twins (actually listening to their uncle, surprisingly). 

“Mom!” “y/n!” “Honey!” 

Half an hour ago, you had been working on a new telecom venture when your assistant rushed in, claiming an urgent call from your husband: “Love, it’s the twins, Hito and Kiko- cursed technique- unstable control- dinner- Ten Shadows!” It takes a while for you to piece together the information, but when you do, you turn pale as death. 

The twins inherited the Ten Shadows? Together? They share one cursed technique? They share the fucking Ten Shadows?

—------- 

The black divine dog was sent back, thanks to Uncle Megumi Fushiguro. “The other one was already gone when we got here.” Megumi says, leaning back as everyone sits in peace around the low tea-table on the ground. Yuuji is playing cards with the boys, Tsukiko sits in Megumi’s lap, steadily stealing extra cookies from the table, and Naomi is quietly talking to her dad. “They summoned the Divine Dogs by accident, don’t punish them for it, okay?”

“I know.” Noritoshi sighs. “I didn’t even know two Ten Shadows users could exist at the same time.”

“It’s very rare.” Megumi replies. “But rare things are common nowadays.” Since the Culling Games. Since it all got messed up. 16 years ago. 

“It’s so dangerous for a 6 year old to have the power to accidentally summon Mahoraga. Megumi-chan, what did you do at that age?” You still haven’t kicked the habit of calling him Megumi-chan, even though he grumbles about it a lot, especially since the twins are starting to call him that too.

“Well, I had Gojo-sensei to show me the basics, and then I figured it out myself. But I was a very different 6 year old than Hito and Kiko.” He looks down at Tsukiko who’s trying to hide her growing bundle of cookie-loot. “Maybe it’d be safer if I stay with the kids for a bit…”

The kids are delighted to hear this, of course, Uncle Megumi who lets them get away with anything, and buys them whatever they want, he’s their favourite. (Uncle Yuuji is very hurt by this proclamation).

“Yeah, that’d be great, Megumi-chan. Thanks.” You yawn. 

“Say, Hito, Kiko!” Yuuji says. “You called both the dogs? Can you call them again?”

“Now, Itadori?” Noritoshi is still wary. When he first saw the dogs, he almost killed them on the spot, thinking that someone had sent them there to hurt his kids. It had taken a second for light to enter his head: Ah, these are my children’s shikigami. They inherited the Ten Shadows…. Oh my God- my kids inherited the Ten Shadows. “Take the yard outside then, not in here.”

Except for Megumi and the twins, who are working on calling the dogs in the middle of the yard, all of you stand in the veranda. Noritoshi’s Flowing Red Scale is on, ready, just in case.

“It’s just… it’s been 16 years since…” Yuuji finds it difficult to put it into words.. “... since he last saw Divine Dog White… back at the detention center....” 

The shadows under the twins have definitely started to hollow out choppily. Megumi shouts out words of encouragement, telling them to “steady, keep steady!”, while you can tell that Noritoshi is growing more agitated by the second. The volatile control over their shared cursed technique seems to shift between the twins randomly. The shadows underneath, like turbulent sea-water, split.

Megumi Fushiguro is no stranger to loss. It’s a fact of his life. He hardened his heart to this a long time ago, he's bid his good-byes properly in private. He’s done his due mourning when Divine Dog White died over a decade and a half ago. 

Why does his throat feel tighter? Hito and Kiko are making the huge dogs shake hands with a delighted Yuuji. Why does he remember the damp walls of that old apartment, where his dad left him and Tsumiki? Why does he remember Tsumiki’s laugh when the white dog, invisible to her, tripped her as she walked? Those snowy walks with Gojo-sensei, when he brought all three of them mochi, and an extra one for the dog? Those tired midnights in Jujutsu High when the dog curled around him in his sleep? Nobara and Yuuji, back in their teenage years, begging him to summon his precious dog? Nobara who still remains 16 in his memories. Gojo-sensei. Tsumiki. The White Dog. 

If anyone notices a tear stuck in Megumi’s lashes, they don’t mention it. They let him sit on the grass, keeping watch. The overprotective parents have loosened up, allowing Naomi and Chihiro to pet the dogs too. It’s nice, he thinks, everyone getting to enjoy a night like this. It doesn’t come by often. These small moments like playing with the dogs, eating meals together, hanging clothes to dry, taking walks in the setting sun, these are privileges they've earned with blood. Families, especially happy ones, are rare; Megumi’s proud that you and Noritoshi have managed to create one. As for him, he’s content sitting on grass and watching. 

“Megumi-chan, come play!” Tsukiko beckons him. “Shiro, go jump on him.”

“Shiro, no–” But these aren't Megumi’s shikigami, they don’t listen to a word he says. He’s immediately tackled on the soft ground by the weight of the white furball, who’s wagging his tail and licking him all over, as excited as the kids to be summoned. They even smell the same, Megumi remembers. Still, mine had softer fur. 

Naomi valiantly comes to his rescue. Noritoshi offers him some tea before bed. Him and Yuuji are staying the night, you’ve declared, and keeping watch over the twins. Despite all the loss he’s endured his whole nightmare of a life, at the end of the day, there’s still a family he’s part of. There’s still hope, there’s still love, there’s still soft white dogs. 

—------- 

The battle is over: all 4 kids have been put to bed. Yuuji whistles softly, complaining that Hito wheedled five stories and three lullabies out of him. That reminds him: “y/n, you know when Noritoshi called us, he seemed so stressed, I thought that you were pre-” but Noritoshi whacks him on the head before he gets to finish. Megumi isn’t done entertaining the twins yet. 

a/n: timeline wise, this work is set faaar in the future, when the Kamos have returned to and established themselves in Japan. Regardless of the merger, the amount of cursed energy cultivated from the Culling Games have GOT to have fucked up effects on the kids born afterwards, like the remains of nuclear bombs. Naomi is the oldest kid at 13, Chihiro is 10 and the twins are both 6. reader would be 30, noritoshi 34, yuuji 32, and megumi 31. if it was unclear, Asahito and Tsukiko are nicknamed Hito & Kiko

[yandereteentitans]

Can you do a yandere Red X please? He was such a cool character in Teen Titans (2003) and sadly, there isn't enough content for him

General head canons and maybe even a short scenario? Either or, don't feel pressured!

YES! OH MY GOD YES! I assume you mean the guy after Robin taking over Red X.

[Also DC finally confirmed Brick Pettirosso is Red X???? Like no way- Probably not for TT ['03] though. He's probably just for the newer comics] [Also people who like him probably have a thing for masks-]

Selfish, only cares about himself

Or at least he did until he met you

He was just stalking some rich people, hoping to steal from them, when he noticed you getting kidnapped

He doesn't want to save you, but he's a little bit of an anti-hero and he can't just watch someone else get kidnapped

So, he decides to save you

He's a little annoyed, because he lost his opportunity to steal from the people he was stalking

But it was worth it when you gave him a pearl bracelet as a 'Thank You'

He decides to stalk you now, because he wants to know if you're part of a well off family he can steal from

Bingo! Boy just found the jack pot

Your father is a Ceo of some tech company. Your mother is also a business partner of a huge Casino. [One where a lot of criminal activity seems to happen]

He decides that his best opportunity to rob your place is to wait for you all to leave

And he finds his opportunity when you're heading to school and your parents are held up at work

He was about to leave, when for some fucking reason you came back home-

You pulled at the door, before shoving your hair out of your face. You couldn't believe you had forgotten your computer at home. Also why did it take you so long to notice that you had forgotten it? You rush up the stairs, before stopping halfway when hearing footsteps. No one should have been home-

Your brows frowned, as you peak into the jewelry room. Inside was the man who had saved you a few weeks ago. Your eyes widen and you quickly cover your mouth, but it was to late as you had already let out a gasp.

Red X turns around when hearing a gasp. He leans back, trying to see if someone was behind the door. No one should have been here- He reaches into his utility belt as he slowly walks towards the door.

You could hear his footsteps getting closer. What were you suppose to do? Run? Where would you run too? Your feet were working before your brain, because as soon as the thought 'run' entered your mind, you were running down the stairs and you hid behind a wall.

Now he knew he had heard someone. The click of shoes running away were hard to miss. He pulls open the door and looks into the hallway and down the stairs. He knew whoever it was was still in the house. He softly closes the door, before slowly walking down the stairs.

You could hear him. He was quiet, but the faint steps where still picked up by your ears. You were doomed. You were going to die. You didn't want to die- Not like this. This could be the end. Suddenly your grabbed and pulled into the man. Your eyes are wide as his grip tightens on your wrists

"Oh, it's you." He lets you go, slightly pushing you back which causes you to fall on your butt. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? This is MY house. What are YOU doing here?"

He doesn't answer you, instead looking up as if he was listening to something. There was a knock at the door and then the chauffeurs voice.

"Miss. L/n, are you okay?"

You look at Red X, he looks at you, and you look at him, and he looks at you. Just staring-

"Uh- Yes. I'll be out in a minute." You say, looking at the door, hoping maybe you can look through the door and warn him. Though when you look back to where Red X was, he was gone. "What the fu-" You stand up, trying to look for him, but he was gone, like he had never been there.

The only thing that proved he had ever been there was a large red X on the stands where the Jewlry had once been.

[toxycodone]

thank you for answering my winged lion! laios ask. it’s canon that the winged lion takes on the form of the things that they could trust the most. and for you, it’s laios. being the dungeon lord gets very difficult but at least this laios (????) is so comforting. it’s the small parts falling into place that makes you so easy to manipulate. “i wish you’re human,” you say, eyes filled with longing. “well… there is a way…” this look alike replies. —🍨(vanilla) anon.

Y E S.

wait is this? Winged Lion x reader? Or Laios x Reader now? Or is it kinda both? I mean either way. I’m so down.

I’m kinda liking the idea of like, you being a dungeon lord but not having any particular magic talent. But what’s specifically special about you is how deep your desire and loyalty runs, which is what’s so attractive to the demon.

who gives a shit if you aren’t good at magic? You can learn. As long as it replicates your deepest desires, you’ll be motivated to do just anything.

Winged Lion!Laios is like…everything you could have ever wanted Laios to be and more. He’s just as attractive, manages to have the right social oopsies that make you giggle, but like…he never goes too far. He’s just like a puppy.

but what you don’t see is how hyper aware he is. How he manages to avert your gaze before you can witness the horrors your poor attempts at magic creates for dungeon dwellers. He distracts you with sweet nothings and lingering touches when you start thinking too hard about just what the FUCK you’re doing.

wait….oh my god YOU being the reason Laios gets possessed I—

also. Laios confronting this version of him?????

Learning you love him, which is nice, but…this much? What does it imply?? And do you like this version better?