#he seemed such a chill person before he asked this

[strwberri-milk]

Could you please give headcanons on how LAD men would react if MC is non-jealous? Like they got hit on but MC isn't bothered or phased just stand there n watch the whole thing unfold (you can say Mc is amused at the attempt or smug about it cuz it shows that she had good taste in men) sry if my english is bad

im assuming that this is what youre referring too so ive put them both into one request lol

Zayne doesn't really mind it. He likes that you aren't jealous because he wants to be with someone who's secure in his relationship considering how late his hours are and how he can't be around as often as he would like to be. Knowing that you're more than fine with him focusing on work those days where he really has to focus and can't see you.

He doesn't get hit on too often because of the slightly chilly demeanor he has. People tend to leave him alone, especially with how obvious he makes it that you're dating him by the way he holds you. However, whenever people do try it he's glad that you don't mind it. He doesn't want you to think that he has eyes for anybody but you, even if a very very small part of him his curious to see what your protective side might be like when it comes to him.

When someone starts to insult you is when he starts shutting things down. He's telling them to stop saying things like that because there's no way he'd fall for their weak attempts at manipulation and will honestly start trying to walk away. If you stop minding your own business and start paying attention to him he'll try to guide you away to prevent you from hearing something nasty being said about you.

You gently shush him, smiling to yourself as you listen to the person rant at you. You know that Zayne doesn't want you to draw attention to the two of you so you let them complain before asking them if they think behaving like a child is really how you find a man that's as accomplished and sophisticated as Zayne. You don't really need to say much anyway because they can see how Zayne looks at them with a mild irritation for how they've interrupted your day before simply bidding them a goodbye. They're stuck trying to figure out how to reply to your words, forced to confront their childish actions.

If they decide to continue, following you around and shouting obscenities at you then you simply tell them that they look pathetic begging for him like this and that everybody around you is laughing at them. Public shame is a strong deterrent and they're forced to leave you alone. Zayne doesn't say anything but he does press a soft kiss to your cheek, not wanting to be too affectionate in public with how many eyes are on you but he's also very proud of how you can easily stand your ground.

Xavier likes knowing that he's yours but he also doesn't care too much for giant overt displays. He likes the subtle ways you show your his and he can show others that he's yours. It shows in the subtle way the two of you speak of how intertwined your lives are, just how casual the two of you are with each other. There's this implicit understanding that's shared between the two of you that just makes it seem like you two have been married for thirty years.

He doesn't mind that you aren't jealous over him but he also sometimes wants to see you being possessive over him. He likes seeing how your eyes flash and how you slide yourself next to him. You'll kiss his cheek and smile at him before asking who his new friend is. He typically doesn't entertain conversations with people who aren't you but he's much more subtle about it. People don't notice that he's not checked into the conversation until they suddenly realise he's quiet not because he's listening, but because he's fully just on his phone or started to leave when they looked away from him.

He doesn't get hit on often but when he does it's because people see him as an easy target. They think that he's chill and would be receptive to getting their number when it's totally the opposite. He doesn't even look at people who try to flirt with him, immediately pulling out his phone to text you to come find him faster because people are trying to get his number.

You show up quickly as soon as you hear them telling him how clearly, you don't care about him if you've just abandoned him like that. They're claiming that if you really loved him as much as he says he does then you wouldn't have left him alone like that. They start going on and on as you approach, tapping their shoulder as you gently push them aside to perch yourself on Xavier's lap. He doesn't expect it but he welcomes in anyway, happily returning the soft kiss you give him.

You totally ignore the person flirting with him, rolling your eyes as you tell them that Xavier hates it when people just prattle on and on about nothing like the way they're doing right now. You don't even let them get another word in as you tell him that you're tired and wanna go home now - your day was ruined by them and you didn't feel like staying out anymore.

He likes how you basically just totally shut them down without a second though, standing up with him and taking his hand. The two of you just fully ignore them, heading home as Xavier tells you he likes it when you do things like that.

Rafayel loves being obvious about how much he loves you. He's constantly hit on at parties and generally when he's in an okay mood he won't be as openly hostile about rejecting advances if Thomas begs him not to. He feels bad for the guy sometimes, knowing how difficult he can be to work with but not bad enough to actually be fully nice to everyone at events.

He wishes you were more openly jealous around him, recounting some stories specifically in hopes of getting a rise out of you. He doesn't want to like, actually hurt your feelings but he does want to see you pout and get a little clingy if possible. You know that that's his goal whenever he tells you about another socialite hitting on him and you entertain him by being dramatic in response, Rafayel lightly pouting at how you aren't taking him seriously but he also knows you're doing that because you love him.

When someone is genuinely trying to flirt with him and tells him that you aren't even rich or famous enough to be around him your first response is to just let him deal with it. He's very good at rejecting people but you feel bad when he meets your gaze from across the room, a pleading look on his face as he tries to convince you to come and rescue him. You decide to take pity on him and head over, trying to tell the socialite to back off. They just start to get in your face, telling you that you have no business acting the way you do, going off on you.

You just sigh and tell them that it doesn't matter how much they beg Rafayel doesn't like them and has personally told you himself how much he can't stand these parties because of people like them. You make it quite pointed that Rafayel hates these events and that if it were up to him, he wouldn't be here especially with them. Rafayel doesn't even need to say anything as he just stands behind you, arms around your waist as he just nods in agreement with your words, giving you a kiss as the other person finally gives up and fully leaves the party, embarrassed as everybody started staring at the argument that the two of you were having. The confident demeanor you have while Rafayel drapes himself off of you has everyone chuckling to themselves at how shameless the other party is, unfortunately staining their reputation as someone desperate to climb the social ladder.

Rafayel basks in the attention you showered him in and how hot he thinks it is that you made it so obvious you're his. You never left his side for the rest of the evening and he had fun introducing you to literally everyone. He'll ask you to do it more often if you can, totally obsessed with how you handled the situation so easily.

Sylus is pretty okay about the fact that you don't show any jealousy when he's flirted with. People are usually too scared of him to flirt with him anyway. Internally though, he also does want to see how you'd react when jealous. He doesn't do anything to trigger it but clearly, he doesn't really have to. Sometimes, he might make light jokes about how you don't get jealous because you know he has nothing on his mind but you. You don't have the heart to admit the fact that you know he's obsessed with you, but you also love knowing that he is. He makes it so obvious but he isn't even aware of how obvious he is about loving you, constantly spoiling you in every way.

He doesn't often attend events but he had to this one time, leading to people falling all over themselves to try and get his attention. You know that he can take care of himself but you also can't help the possessive streak that you feel at someone trying to take away something that's yours. He was having the time of his life /s avoiding everyone or making snide remarks as people try to steal his attention from you. You were trying to socialise with some people on his behalf, wanting to be friendly when you saw just how crowded he was with people trying to flirt with him.

His eyes follow you as you come to him, beginning to tell people off for acting so desperate around him. You remind them that Sylus chooses only the best and unfortunately for them, that so happens to be you. He doesn't say anything to you as you continue to tell people off, watching you with amusement in his eyes. You don't even feel his gaze as people weakly try to retaliate against your points, leading to you proving how wrapped around your finger you have him. He barely registers what's happening until he's delivering a plate of food to you, gazing at you with a soft expression that nobody's ever seen on him before. It makes it pretty clear that he won't ever see anybody that isn't you and shuts them up - if their egos aren't already decimated by how crude you were in calling out the desperate behaviour.

He'll tell you later as the two of you are getting ready for bed how flattered he was to have all of your attention on reminding people how much you love him. That overt display of affection is one he wants, obsessed with being shown in definitive ways just how much you love him.

[muletia]

[tfp] obsessed!megatron x human!reader suggestive valveplug content, mdi!

based on this ask about humans producing pheromones during ovulation

cw: mentions of kidnapping (but reader is chill about it lmao), obsessive thoughts, one-sided sexual tension, slut-route reader, beginning of valveplug but it cuts off before explicit interfacing, implied subish!megatron and dom!reader

word count: 1700

Once again, you find yourself aboard the Decepticon warship. The Vehicons had taken you straight from your home, seizing the opportunity while the Autobots were too preoccupied with the battle over an energon mine to notice. They delivered you directly into Megatron’s own hands, just as they had done countless times before. But by now, the fear of being captured and spending time in Megatron’s presence has long since dulled, replaced instead by an almost saintly patience for the Lord’s whims — most of which seem to revolve around you.

You no longer feel tense around him. Not anymore. That much allows you to lower your guard, to abandon vigilance, and to lay back on his thigh with your hands behind your head and one leg dangling over the edge. Relaxed, knowing that you are in no danger, at least, ironically, not from Megatron himself. He allows you to be disrespectful if it means you stay close to him, indulges you, spoiling with privileges no Decepticon would ever dare dream of. It would be a shame not to take advantage of that and behave like a person rather than a frightened rabbit.

But you must admit, he seems different today. Even more focused on you than usual, sitting on his throne like an unmoving mountain, as though he is tense himself no matter how grotesque that sounds. Has been like this ever since you landed in his servo. But now that he has set you down freely on his thigh, he seems more mysterious, more silent. This strange shift in his demeanor stirs your human curiosity — what thoughts could possibly be circling in Megatron’s processor?

Even with your eyes closed, you feel his piercing gaze on you. It does not allow you to fully relax, to enjoy the privilege of being special, of being important. It builds pressure, and eventually, you give in, cracking one eye open.

Your suspicions prove true when you meet a pair of crimson optics locked onto you. Analyzing. Searching. Though you are not sure for what.

Unable to endure it any longer, you give in to the expectations pressing down on you.

“Is there something I can do for you, Lord Megatron?”

“Are you doing this on purpose?” he replies with a question of his own.

“I don’t understand.” You sit up. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You tempt. You provoke.” He growls. “That scent you are emitting. Stop it. Immediately.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded, completely unaware of what he means. But the furrow of his optical ridges and the slight baring of his dentas make it clear — he genuinely expects action, not contemplation.

“How exactly am I supposed to stop emitting a scent? I can’t control that.”

“Truly? Because if this is some human tactic of collaboration to ensure a quicker return home, then I regret to inform you that no force will take you from my servos. You will remain here, where you rightfully belong.”

“Why would I deliberately provoke the most powerful Decepticon to my own disadvantage?” you point out.

He shifts restlessly, then clenches his servo into a fist. You are irritating him. Whatever he is detecting in your scent must be unbearably difficult to tolerate, let alone suppress. But there is physically nothing you can do to meet the demand placed upon you.

“I lack the patience for fruitless attempts at flattery today, [Name].”

Not when his spike is pressing uncomfortably against the walls of it's cage, pleading for release, for the chance to bury itself in your sweet, human valve.

You watch him for a moment, your sharp little optics trying to decipher his processor. But he does not want you to, does not want you to realize the havoc you have unknowingly wreaked upon him, especially not the mystery of that scent. Sweet yet suffocating, it floods his processor, seeping into every crevice, infecting with desire, overwhelming with the need to breed. To claim. To take. To create an offspring. To lock you away from everyone, ensuring you depend only on him.

Would you completely despise him if he allowed himself to touch you? Would you sever the twisted bond you have woven together?

He is mad enough to take the risk. Even if the price is your hatred.

You have control over him, and the fact that you do so unknowingly only fuels the fire of his frustration.

“I expect you to take my words to your equivalent of a spark and act accordingly.” Before he completely loses himself to this cursed, infuriating spike.

Today, you are impossible to ignore. Impossible to look away from. Impossible to focus on anything other than your body sprawled so shamelessly and unapologetically across his thigh, so close to his interface panel. Tempting him. Teasing. Whether intentionally or not, it makes no difference. It is maddening, because he is incapable of purging the fantasy of tearing your clothes to shreds and claiming you with an animalistic frenzy. He no longer cares whether it happens here or in his habsuite, mind entirely consumed by the need.

“Are you saying that I… I’m releasing pheromones? And you can sense them?”

Are you playing ignorant, or are you truly that oblivious?

“Of course. And I expect you to cease it at once, while your delightful naivety still amuses me.”

Your eyes widen. Megatron raises an optical ridge.

“You were not aware?”

“No? Humans don’t have a strong enough sense of smell to—oh, shit.” You cut yourself off, glancing around the bridge.

Every mech in the room is staring at you like a starving beast. Ravenous. Desperate.

Even Soundwave has stopped working, his helm tilted in your direction.

Even proud, human-hating Starscream is watching you with his intake slightly parted, his thoughts swirling around the same relentless need.

Instinctively, you shift closer to Megatron’s abdomen, seeking protection from the hungry stares of his subordinates. That tiny movement is enough to snap the Decepticon leader out of his trance of battling his own desire. For the first time since making physical contact with you, he tears his gaze away, only to direct his fury outward.

“Did I order you to stop working?!” he thunders.

That alone is enough to send the bots scrambling back to their tasks. But it is not enough for Megatron. He has reached his limit, can no longer keep you in the presence of others. Only the last shreds of his self-control prevent him from slaughtering everyone who dared look at you.

“Enough of this,” he growls.

He offers you his servo, and you climb into it without hesitation, showing your gratitude by stroking his thumb. Even that innocent, minuscule gesture stokes the fire. Teases the need.

He pulls you close to his chassis, the motion wafting even more of that cloying scent toward him. He clenches his free servo into a fist to hold himself back; thoughts have already melted into simple, instinctive urges. Claim. Take. Drown in you. That is what he excels at. What he does best.

You must save him. Put an end to this madness of desire. Free him from the suffocating scent consuming his processor. Return him to rational thought. Sever the chain that has wound so tightly around his neck.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask, and the vibrations of your voice ripple through him, teasing his neglected spike.

“Somewhere where you will be mine alone,” he answers. One claw drags over your back with a shocking contrast of gentleness. “If this was your plan from the very beginning, then congratulations, you have driven me mad. I expect you to take responsibility for your actions.”

“Oh, so that’s the provocation you meant.”

He opens the door to his private habsuite and immediately shuts it behind him, unable to pretend any longer that mere innocent touches are able to satisfy him.

He places you on the berth, allowing himself the freedom to mass shift — still enormous, still an immovable mountain, still radiating power that presses your back into the berth, caging you in with his servos, shutting out the world.

“You have been tempting me with your scent since the moment I first detected it. Shamelessly luring me, silently begging for interfacing, and yet you have the audacity to feign innocence? Do you not feel it?” he asks, his voice low, testing your reaction. “The overpowering appetite for physicality? The need to satisfy it at any cost?”

"Of course, I feel it, I've been struggling with this for a few days, but I didn’t expect that—" Your explanation is cut off by the faint sound of an interface panel sliding open, instantly capturing your attention. You swallow hard, biting down gently on your lower lip as your focus lands on the massive, swollen spike, from whose tip droplets of pink transfluid slowly drip, right between your legs.

"Oh…"

Megatron’s servo reaches for your pants, ready to tear down the barriers keeping him from your sweet, tight valve, but you beat him to it, springing to your feet and wrapping your hand around the heated, sensitive spike. He stares at you with reproach but doesn’t have time to twist it into anger before your hand starts moving along the length of his spike, coaxing a low moan from his intake and forcing him to straighten, giving you better access to stroke up and down. He tries to be furious about the loss of control, about allowing himself even a moment of distraction but physically, he can’t move. He’s completely frozen, shackled by your incredible skill in milking his spike.

He’s been waiting for stimulation for so long — there’s no way he’s going to deny himself now, especially when it’s coming from you.

"Well then, I take full responsibility for my actions," you say nonchalantly, drawing out fury if the look on Megatron’s face is anything to go by. But you manage to stifle his anger with a tighter squeeze around the base of his spike, forcing a restrained grimace of pleasure.

Let’s see if you can last longer than Optimus, you think, feeling his rough, greedy servo pressing firmly against your chest.

[sillygoofyqueer]

How do you feel about bingqiu role reversal (of the heavenly demon main character shizun Luo Binghe who hides his identity as the demon emperor x transmigrator human disciple Shen Yuan variety)?

Hi, welcome to "I'm supposed to be asleep right now but I'll answer this one before I disappear", I'm your freak of a host, Four! First of all, thank you anon for sending in this ask, I am pleased that you did <3

Now, onto business! I have read a grand total of...two, maybe three, fics with this premise and I personally really enjoy it! I can't really explain why, but the many different dynamics that they can hold within this role reversal is amazing to me.

One of my personal favourites of this AU variety (and my own interpretation) is the idea of Luo Binghe, secret demon just chilling on Cang Qiong (he says he's 'gathering intel' when/if anyone dares to ask, but he's just enjoying teaching disciples and being all "grrr demons" at meetings), with this random fucking kid of a disciple that almost immediately lets slip that he knows who Binghe actually is but doesn't??? Seem all that bothered???

Like, bro's over here like "holy shit do I have to kill this kid?? Everyone seems to like him though, and I like him, he's so weird," while Shen Yuan's busy being all like "oh em gee my favourite character this is sick! Anyway, how do I fly this sword, I have so many beasts to study-" Luo Binghe is living a bit of a spy thriller nightmare, whereas Shen Yuan's living a wholesome fantasy novel dream.

Bonus points if we've got original Shang Qinghua being like "so that's the demon emperor, we stay out of his hair and he acts like we don't know each other" to his baby brother, newly transmigrated Airplane who is generally just being a nuisance and contemplating what's going on, all while teaching his older brother stupid references from his life (this leads to Shang Qinghua silently doing the force chokehold thing whenever someone turns their back to him before acting completely chill when they turn back around)

[yukimiyum]

ALL ROADS LEAD BACK TO YOU PT. 2 | 1,778 words (~13 minutes reading time). afab!reader, toxic!oliver, boyfriend!yukimiya, abandonment, complicated relationships, oliver pov & reader pov, penetrative sex, nipple play, fingering, creampies, praise, pet names (darling, my love, darling)

author's notes: you already know how enraged oliver would be over someone like yukimiya being with u...especially bc he knows better. i'm in tears btw. [ao3 link]

-> taglist: @qichun @unriding @mitsuwuyaa @suyacho @rhyzoma -> join the taglist!

it's so late, again.

oliver barely makes it back to his room before slamming his fists against the closed door. once again, they lost. they fucking lost, and there was nothing they could do. the hole in his chest is aching, roaring at him at how much of a failure he is, watching those quick feet sidestep him as if there was nothing he could've done.

there was nothing you could've done better.

sendou's voice echoes in his head. he knows he's right—sendou tends to be right whenever it comes to this stuff. he's smarter, he's dealt with failure far more than oliver ever has. being in his position, it naturally causes him to feel more. to deal with more. and he does, letting it slip off of him like water off of a turtle's shell.

so, he calls the one person he knows will pick up. it's been a good six months...maybe even longer. time seems to fail him these days, and while you haven't seen each other nearly as much as you normally do, it's...he misses you.

he fucking misses you so much, it hurts.

he's seen the vacancy in your eyes, too, whenever you're beneath him. that last time...it broke something inside you, he thinks. one time too many. one abandonment too many. he'd hurt you too many times, but he can't get enough of the way you come when called anyway. as if he's too good to let go. it gives him a sense of pride, of knowing no matter how much he hurts you, you'll still come back.

he's a fucking monster, and he's enjoying it.

that is, until your phone goes to voicemail.

he texts. the message goes through, a read receipt appears, but no dots appear of you typing. he texts again. no read receipt this time. he calls again. no answer. voicemail.

he's starting to get desperate. the overwhelming feeling that you're gone, that you've finally had enough; it frightens him. it terrifies him so much, seeing the shadows on the walls of his hotel room looking so much bigger and scarier than they have before as he calls again.

this time, finally, finally, someone picks up—

"hello? who is this?"

oliver's blood freezes in his veins.

because it's not your raspy, tired voice, full of exasperation and thinly concealed want. it's not a voice that he's familiar with hearing over the phone, but it's one he knows so, so well. well enough that he almost hears his phone crack in his hand.

because it's yukimiya's voice.

oliver can't bear to say anything. he's completely frozen, locked in place, his heart slamming in his ears as he watches his vision blur with tears. he's going to fucking cry, isn't he? he's going to fucking break down because this is confirmation that you're finally gone. you're finally done. it's over.

it's over it's over it's over—

yukimiya's voice hums on the other end, but there's no whisper or acknowledgement that you're even on the other end. you're being smart, he knows it—keeping silent while yukimiya chuckles, as if he knows it's oliver on the other end. but he can't know, you never saved his number, hence why he's asking who it is.

or he's being a dick. could be both.

the line goes dead after yukimiya whispers down the line, chills fluttering over oliver's back as the three beeps sound in his head. the three beeps of death, knowing you're not coming back.

hot, disgusting tears fall down his cheeks and into his short beard that he's grown, without you tutting at him and brushing your knuckles against his usual clean-shaven cheeks. his entire body feels freezing cold and like he's been dipped in flames at the same time.

his phone ends up cracked, shattered even, a dent in the wall as he stomps into the bathroom. he needs a cold shower. anything to forget that you're not coming back this time.

and it's his fault.

"yukki? who was that?" you whisper sleepily as your boyfriend reaches over to pick up your buzzing phone. he doesn't let you so much as look at the screen as he answers for you, before humming and hanging up, shrugging.

"must've been a spam caller," he says back to you, before moving back to what he was doing before your phone buzzed.

your stomach drops, because you know he's wrong. he doesn't know he's wrong, but you know—it had to have been oliver. yukimiya had come over immediately after their loss, wanting to feel your warmth just as he does after wins. he makes quick work of your clothes, but never fails to just lay with you and enjoy you—not like oliver, who only wanted aggression. to take things out on you. to use you for his own ends.

yukimiya's different. yukimiya feels safe.

yukimiya doesn't leave in the morning without a word to you.

yukimiya doesn't abandon you like you mean nothing to him.

yukimiya doesn't—

"my love, what has you so lost in thought?"

his voice is so soothing for you as you look down at him. his chin is perched on your bare chest, lean fingers cupping your breast, gently squeezing every now and then. his glasses have disappeared, somewhere on your bedside table, so his big eyes are only settled on you. there's concern in them, but mostly just love.

love. something you've always been looking for, but no one has ever wanted to give you.

"nothing." it's a lie, and yukimiya's much smarter than he lets on as his brows furrow for just a moment before shrugging it off. "i believe you," he says, moving up to nuzzle into your neck, "but i'm here to talk about it when you're ready." so patient.

his lips press against your soft flesh there, breathing your scent into his nostrils. "let me make you forget about it for now," he says in a low voice, his eyes precise as he looks up at you, moving downwards to capture one of your bare nipples in his mouth. his tongue rolls across it, flicking and sucking so gently that you can't help but keen, your thighs pressing together, feeling his lean hand become trapped between the fat.

his fingers gently push your underwear to the side, your thighs involuntarily shuddering as he drifts his fingers through your lips. his touch is so much softer than oliver's is, and even after a loss, yukimiya never fails to make sure you know he's not mad at you. he could never be mad at you, really—you know that. why would he, anyway? it's his loss.

this is his way of taking it out on you.

instead of oliver's commanding, angry demeanor, yukimiya takes a very sweet view on sex. it's the closest to making love you've ever gotten to.

because yukimiya treats this as his therapy, really. if he can make you cum, if he can make you squirt all over his thick cock and his pretty hands, then he's still good. he's still good enough, he's still worthy of something. of someone.

so much different than oliver. so much better than oliver.

yukimiya has you creaming all over him not long after that. his fingers make quick work of you, especially when he looks at you like that. so gently, as if you brought him into the world to serve you and there's nothing better for him out there. it's intoxicating how much he loves you—the past six months have proven that to you time and time again.

especially when he whispers against your neck how good you feel wrapped around him as he gently pushes into you, your walls accommodating his size slowly as he works you open. "god, you feel amazing every time," he groans out, thrusting into you, his hands on either side of your face, looking down at you with the sweetest smile as he watches you come undone beneath him.

his movements are like the ocean; consistent, moving in and out, reveling in how you squelch around him, so agonizingly slowly that you're getting frustrated. redness blotches across your cheeks as you whine, wriggling underneath him. his lips upturn in a smirk.

because yukimiya has his own drawbacks. obsessive ones, ones that you enjoy without realizing how much you like it.

"need something, love?"

"yukki," you whine, "need more, need more of you, please—"

this was the main one. he constantly teases you to tell him what you want. considering it a drawback isn't really accurate...it's more of a qualm. a passing annoyance that only leads to a harder climax for you—and that's why you enjoy it so much. secretly.

"oh, i'll give you more," he says, suddenly slamming into you so hard that stars erupt in your vision as your jaw falls open, a cry of ecstacy ripping form your throat, "i'll give you all of me if you only ask. all you have to do is say please, darling."

"y-yukki, yukki, yukki—"

"yeah? are you going to come for me again, sweet thing?" his voice is so patronizing, but there's no aggression behind it. only a sense of control, something yukimiya surprises you consistently with. for being such a pacifist, he really enjoys inflicting pain on you—painful yearning for him to make you come in the only way he knows how.

his hand sneaks down to where you two are joined, his wet thumb flicking against your clit as he rails you into the bed. the bedframe slams into the wall behind you, but you don't care. you never did. all you can feel is warmth pooling down below, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you hear yukimiya laugh above you. "yeah, that's it, that's a good girl. you look so pretty squirting all over me, darling. i am so fucking lucky, my god—"

you can feel him filling you up as you ascend, your very skin feeling like it's on fire as yukimiya comes inside. but he doesn't stop, he never does as he fucks the come right back into you, not wanting to waste a single drop. he rides out your climaxes together, dropping his face into the crook of your neck as his hips finally sputter out and he collapses on top of you—a sweaty, welcoming warmth as you both catch your breath, a wet kiss pressed to your cheek as your eyes finally flutter back open.

and you forget all about the missed phone call when yukimiya's face swims into your vision, his smile so gentle as he presses another kiss to your lips, and then to your forehead.

"my beautiful girl."

divider credit: @/adornedwithlight networks: @pixelcafe-network

disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

© yukimiyum 2025

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Cold Rain

Swamped with school work and pain, sorry for the lack of updates.

Summary: It's raining outside so you and Bucky snuggle in bed.

You really don't like the rain.

It causes the floor to feel like ice, your skin prickling from the chill that sets into your house, and not to mention the howling winds out there make the night seem alive. Your hair stands on end, trying its best to protect you from the cold but it's not enough. You suppose it's partly due to your inability to tolerate the cold for some reason, a mystery you have yet to solve, but that has led to some funny incidents like the time you wore a hoodie out in the hot humid sun because you'd forgotten to take it off, causing Bucky to fret about heatstroke.

"Doll?" Said person appears in the doorway, holding two cups of steaming hot chocolate, the sweet scent wafting through the room. "Would you like one?"

"If I said no? What are you going to do with that other cup?" You peek out from beneath the pile of blankets.

"Drink it, obviously." He smiles, walking over to you and sits on the bed. "I suppose I get to drink both?"

You pout at him, reaching out with a hand and he chuckles, setting both cups on the bedside table. He gently tugs the blanket downwards and props your pillow up, causing you to slide off said pillow and pout further.

"I'm not risking you spilling any hot chocolate on the sheets, doll. Sit up or you're not getting any." He chides you, flicking your forehead with a look of amusement on his face. You huff, annoyed, but sit up anyways, clutching the blanket tightly. Bucky tucks himself in too before retrieving the cups, handing one to you, his hand lingering on yours.

"Wait. Let me sit on the other side." Bucky shifts, taking care to purposely hit you in the leg as he crosses over. You hit him back in the leg once he's settled on your left and he smirks, pressing his cold toes on your bare skin.

"Buck!" You shriek, causing him to burst out laughing. His retribution comes swiftly when you press your own cold toes against his bare skin, causing him to yelp in surprise. You grin, revenge gotten and begin to drink your hot chocolate before it gets cold. Bucky, the ever drama queen, scowls and sinks beneath the blanket, taking care to set his cup of hot chocolate down on the table before doing so.

He presses against you, resting his head on your stomach and you chuckle, knowing exactly what he wants you to do.

"You can always just ask, you know?" You run your fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp.

"But then we wouldn't have the telepathic connection couples have." He pouts, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes you've learnt to become immune to.

"I'm pretty sure we'd have the telepathic connection even if you asked," you snort, rolling your eyes.

"It wouldn't be the same," he huffs, rolling over to bury his face into your shirt. You're warm, and he likes the smell of your detergent.

"I think otherwise." You continue stroking his hair, smiling softly when you know he can't see it. He hums in response, curling up against you. It's days like these where you fully appreciate the fact that Bucky is just like a personal heater, the amount of body heat he emits has never bothered you, even on a hot day, but sometimes it can get a little too much, not that you've ever told him that. You like it when he cuddles with you, his vulnerable side on full display only for you. It makes your heart flutter, knowing that he trusts you with everything and you don't want him to stop.

Having finished your hot chocolate, you slide downwards, finally allowed to lie down on your bed. He grunts, feeling you shift underneath him and moves into a more comfortable position, taking care not to let his metal arm touch you. He knows how vulnerable you are to the cold, and likes being able to keep you warm. His heart soars whenever you tell him how much he's done for you, albeit in a drunk state but he'll take whatever praise he can when you rarely dish them out.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer to the other source of warmth in the room and press a kiss to the top of his head, making him smile. You drive away all forms of chill, enveloping him in a cocoon of warmth, forming a protective barrier that keeps the memories of Hydra out of his head, even if it's just for that short while.

"You're so warm," he murmurs, closing his eyes. "Everyone else is so cold."

You blink, then your eyebrows furrow with concern. "Buck? Is it that group of agents again? Do I need to beat them up or would throwing them out of the twentieth storey be better?"

"Doubt you could throw them any further than an inch, doll." His lips quirk up, one ice blue eye cracking open.

"I'll find a way to throw them out of the window," you growl.

"Fury will be pissed at you."

"Let him. Nothing's going to stand in my way of beating up people who talk behind my sugar plum's back.," you growl.

"Your sugar plum," he chuckles. "Never dropping that pet name, are you?"

"James, I'm serious. Do I need to do something about that group of agents?" You give his cheek a poke, ignoring his attempt to change the subject. "Because I really will throw them out of the twentieth storey window if I have to."

"Please don't do something that drastic. You already got into so much trouble when you beat them up." He pushes himself up so that he can press a kiss to your cheek. "I don't want you to get into more trouble because of me."

"You know that I'll do anything for you."

"I know, doll, and I'm grateful for that. But I'd still rather you not get into trouble if you don't have to." He nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "I don't like seeing you in trouble."

"Then next time I'll just not get caught."

"Doll!" He huffs, exasperated and amused. He pulls back, ice blue eyes clouding with sorrow. "I mean it. You shouldn't go too far for me, I'm not worth that much."

Your heart breaks at the sad smile he gives you and suddenly there's an urge to punt everyone who's ever hurt him out of the twentieth storey window, even if they're nothing but corpses now. You'll punt their corpses, bones, whatever is left of them.

"Yeah, that's because you're worth more than that. You're worth more than I can ever give you but that won't stop me from trying." You wonder if you can get your hands on his former handlers and beat them until their skulls cave in, get your hands on the scientists who experimented on him and shove their syringes up their asses, get your hands on the higher ups and watch as they choke to death on paper.

His bottom lip trembles, gaze dropping to stare at the spot of bed between the two of you and you catch a glimpse of tears rolling down his cheeks. You reach out hesitantly, wondering if it's alright for you to hold him when he leans in, pressing against you and sobs, his tears staining your shirt. You take that as your cue to wrap your arms around him, holding him tightly as he cries, your own heart aching with each wail that spill from his lips.

He clutches at you, desperately burrowing into your warmth as you run your fingers through his hair, giving him all the time he needs to let everything out.

"I've got you," you murmur. "I've got you."

He doesn't let go, not even after his cries have dwindled to the occasional sob. He continues to soak in your embrace, trying his hardest not to let you see his tear-stained face and puffy eyes but he can't help but look up at you, desperate to know if there's a look of disgust on your face you're disguising with your actions, if you want no more weakness out of him.

All he sees is the infinite, boundless and unconditional love you have for him.

He presses his face back into your chest, swallowing the lump in his throat and squeezes his eyes shut. He's safe, free from the tendrils of Hydra, free from the freezing snow that chilled him to the bone, free from the cryostasis whose icy touch still haunts him to this day. Even if the nightmares try to convince him otherwise, he knows that when he wakes up, if you're lying there next to him, the cold will never touch him.

The love you have for him wreathes him in a warmth like no other. It's not the same kind of warmth that fire or heaters provide, it feels different in a way he can't quite describe. It's both gentle and ferocious, it curls around him protectively like a shield but is a sword that cuts through all who try to hurt him. You're his special personal heater, providing a different kind of warmth from the one he provides.

You don't stop your ministrations, the rhythmic pattern lulling what remains of his defenses to sleep. You're the only one who can lay him bare like this, the only one he willingly shows his scars to because you're the only one he trusts to this extent.

The rain patters on outside, the wind whistling as it ushers the cold into your room and you press closer against Bucky, tugging the blanket around the both of you tightly. Bucky shifts, letting out a breath and presses a kiss to your collarbone.

"You're so warm." The words slip out before he can stop them and he blushes, the tips of his ears turning red.

"You're warm too," you chuckle, playing with his soft brown locks. "My warm safe haven."

Safe? Haven? Him?

"I'm not a safe haven," he mumbles, face still pressed against your shoulder.

"Says my devoted protector." You flick him in the head. "I distinctly recall a certain someone chiding me over and over again that the only reason I'm still alive is because of you?"

"I'm also the reason you're being targeted," he mumbles sadly. "Being with me makes you a target too, and I don't want to see you hurt."

"Well, good thing I have you as my knight in shining armour then." You smile softly, slipping a hand into his metal hand. "There's no one else I'd rather have."

Bucky's eyes widen but his metal hand gently curls around your flesh hand, fingers intertwined with yours. He looks up at you, searching for permission to close the distance and you give him a small nod. His eyes light up as he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. He kisses you like there's no tomorrow, like you're about to disappear at any moment, and his love crashes into you — wild, fierce, endless.

Maybe the rain isn't so bad after all.

[girl-lostconnection]

hallo love your work it's so delicious. I also love how you show emotions. I wanted to tickle your brain for a sec if you don't mind (no pressure). What would happen in your AUs (like the acceleration au) if the reader was more um- violate like when simon decides oh this stranger yep he's going in the bed with us, (even if mind you she was chill about the strange man before if a bit hurt) she gets stern and simply tells him to get out of her house. That if he wants to bring his soldier fine- but that is not her problem that is her home her life. Also I saw you had a fic of gaz with what was basically a gym rat reader and omggggg it's so muahhh. I love strong reader.

Finally got to your ask, anon. So I’ve been thinking about it for a couple of days now.

I think the reason why Reader doesn’t outright put her foot down or why nothing too rash actually happens from ANY side of their throuple is from how slow it all burns. The temperature is going up degree by degree, so the frog doesn’t jump out of the pot.

Now, if Simon tried to ram his way through her stating clearly and plainly that she’s uncomfortable with something, than yes, it would be a recipe for a disaster.

But yk the AU works only because these guys listen to each other. Simon knows Reader and Reader knows Simon and Johnny knows Simon and Simon knows Johnny and Johnny tries to know Reader.

The AU works because they try to get attuned to each other and not because one or all of them try to forcefully slot themselves into each other’s lives.

I get where your question is coming from, I’m just explaining my thought process behind the structure of their relationship.

So their relationship however strange it may seem works because they are adults that while have some unhealthy attachments or coping mechanisms are still capable of processing their own emotions and giving each other space.

I know that I don’t go into too much of a detail exactly how it works/feels/goes between them but for me personally that’s part of it. In life for me oftentimes relationships can get complicated and sometimes you do in fact realise that the person you called best friend for years is actually the person you love.

Also, sometimes when coming from a not very fortunate or healthy family you may not know how different types of love feel like. You have no model to take example from so yeah, sometimes it’s a lot of stumbling around and nuzzling into people and taking time a shit ton of time to figure it all out.

And while I get that Simon may seem really annoying to some people, for me he’s actually really endearing because in this AU I understand him perfectly. He’s a man, he has some issues he never worked through, he dislikes conflicts and tries to avoid them, he takes the coward’s way out because he hopes maybe things will fall into place on their own.

And I understand Reader because she loved him all her life, she never said it, she always dreamed about the life that she wasn’t brave enough to live, she’s really jealous that Soap was brave enough to do what she didn’t, she feels ashamed that she’s jealous, she made mistakes, she hates that she did, she is difficult and isn’t sure she’s worth this much trouble. It’s okay, she is. You are. All the trouble and effort.

All worth it.

And I understand Soap. I think I understand him the best out of them all. He’s jealous, he’s used to work himself to the bone, he’s incredible aware, he’s insecure, he’s feeling like he could be left behind (he wouldn’t be), he likes Simon, he likes Reader, he has different needs than Simon or Reader have and he’s not sure how to voice them. He’s there but is he really present? Is he wanted? Is he needed? Is he loved? He isn’t sure. He doesn’t know whether he should ask.

So the thing is that they are all difficult and complicated and multidimensional and honestly, I love the three of them so so much.

Even if they stress you, guys, out sometimes

[benispunk]

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 20: Don't Ever Look Back

It seems that once again, Y/N is in urgent need of her knight in shining leather. Lucky for her, he's always there for her. And more.

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, D&W, slight fight/violence.

A/N: hello!!! guyyyyssss i want to cry...one chapter left....this is it...what you've (we've) been waiting for!!!! or is it???? nahh I'm kidding...unless??? anyway without mentioning anything from this chapter, I just wanted to say that after the last chapter I want to do an epilogue! so if you have any idea please feel free to share!!!! enjoy this chapter🩷

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist /Previous Part

The walk home felt heavier with each passing day.

Y/N clutched her bag strap a little tighter, her eyes on the pavement as she made her way back to the apartment. The streets were bathed in the dim orange glow of streetlights, the air cool but not cold. It wasn’t the kind of evening that should feel lonely, but it did.

She could feel his absence in every room, every routine they used to share. Breakfast felt incomplete without his gruff morning greetings. Dinner was quiet without his occasional grunts of approval at Wade’s questionable cooking experiments. Even passing conversations had changed into strained, clipped exchanges, if they even happened at all.

She thought she’d imagined it at first—that maybe she was overanalyzing things. But as the days stretched on, it became undeniable: Logan was avoiding her. He left before she woke up, came home after she’d retreated to her room, and spent his time at school holed up in his classroom. Their walks to work had stopped altogether, leaving her to trek to and from the school alone, the absence of his steady, silent presence gnawing at her more than she cared to admit.

Wade had noticed, of course. He’d even apologized for his part in it, guilt written all over his face as he tried to cheer her up with jokes and a promise to “fix things.” But there was no fixing this. How could there be? Logan had clearly made his choice. 

She couldn’t even call it friendship anymore—not when the lines were so blurred. Logan was more than her roommate, more than her colleague. He was... everything. And now he was gone.

Today was no different. The streets were quiet as Y/N walked home from work, the chill of the evening air nipping at her skin. She pulled her coat tighter around herself, her thoughts drifting to the empty apartment she’d return to. It wasn’t just Logan’s absence that weighed on her—it was the way it made her feel, like she’d lost something she’d only just started to realize she couldn’t live without. 

The school day had been no better. Colleagues had started asking questions—jokes at first, about why Logan wasn’t walking her to work anymore, why he hadn’t joined them for lunch. But then the concerned looks came, and she found herself fumbling for excuses. “Oh, he’s just busy,” she’d said with a forced smile. Or, “He’s probably working on something.” Lies she barely believed herself.

Her apartment building was just a few blocks away now, the thought of its familiar walls both comforting and suffocating. Home didn’t feel like home when the person who made it feel that way wasn’t there.

As she turned onto a quieter street, the faint sound of footsteps behind her pulled her from her thoughts.

She glanced over her shoulder, but the street was empty except for the shadow of a flickering lamp post. The faint echo of her own boots hitting the pavement mingled with the persistent rhythm behind her.

Y/N quickened her pace, her heartbeat beginning to match the steps in her ears. She told herself it was nothing—a coincidence, maybe someone walking their dog or heading home from work. But she couldn’t shake the prickling unease crawling up her spine.

When she reached the mouth of an alley, the hand on her shoulder came out of nowhere.

She let out a startled cry, but it was muffled almost instantly by another hand pressing firmly over her mouth. Panic shot through her veins as she twisted in the grip, her wide eyes darting upward to see who had grabbed her.

“Mark.”

Her heart plummeted at the sight of his familiar face. His dark eyes glinted under the dim light, his expression a mix of frustration and something darker. He gripped her tightly, ignoring her attempts to push him away.

“Finally,” he said, his voice low but sharp, as if he were trying to contain something simmering beneath the surface. “I didn’t want it to come to this, but you left me no choice.”

She jerked against his hold, her muffled protests spilling out uselessly. When he finally moved his hand from her mouth, she gasped in a shaky breath. “Let go of me!” she demanded, trying to wrench herself free, but his grip only tightened.

“Relax,” he hissed, pulling her farther into the alley, away from the streetlights. “I just want to talk. That’s all. You owe me that much.”

“I don’t owe you anything, Mark!” she snapped, her voice trembling but defiant. Her eyes darted around, searching desperately for someone—anyone—who might see her and step in. But the street was empty, and the distant hum of cars seemed to mock her helplessness.

“You don’t mean that,” Mark said, his jaw clenching. “You’re upset, I get it. But this isn’t fair, Y/N. I’ve been working on myself. For you. I’ve done everything I could to show you I’ve changed, and this is how you treat me?”

“You didn’t change,” she shot back, her voice breaking slightly. “You’re proving it right now. Let me go.”

His face darkened, and a bitter smile crept onto his lips. “You’re being dramatic. I’m just trying to fix things. You think I’m the bad guy because I won’t let you throw us away? That’s rich, sweetheart.”

She felt her stomach churn as his hand brushed against the pendant hanging around her neck. His fingers closed around the emerald necklace, lifting it slightly to examine it.

“This?” he sneered, holding it up as the faint light reflected off the gem. “Is this what you want? A fancy little trinket? I could give you a hundred of these if that’s all it takes to make you happy. Just say the word.”

“Mark—” she started, but the words caught in her throat as he stepped closer, the bitterness in his eyes morphing into something more dangerous.

“You’re not even listening to me,” he growled. “You never did. You act like you’re so much better than me now, but I know the truth, Y/N. You think this new life you’ve built makes you untouchable? It doesn’t. You’re still you, and I know you better than anyone else ever will.”

She tried to shove him away, but his grip only tightened as he loomed over her. “Stop fighting me,” he snapped. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

Her breath hitched as he leaned closer, his other hand brushing against her arm as she twisted in his hold. Fear and frustration boiled over, tears welling in her eyes as she pushed back harder. “Mark, please!”

But he didn’t stop. His face was too close now, his lips parting as if he meant to—

The force that tore Mark away from her was so sudden and violent that she stumbled back against the wall, gasping for breath.

When her vision steadied, she saw him on the ground, clutching his side, a shadowy figure standing over him.

Logan.

She blinked, momentarily stunned by the sight of him, his broad frame tense and his fists clenched at his sides. His eyes burned with a fury she’d never seen before, and for a moment, she almost felt sorry for Mark. 

Almost.

Logan grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and hauled him up with a single, effortless motion. Mark’s feet barely touched the ground as Logan slammed him against the brick wall, his face mere inches from his.

“You’ve got exactly three seconds to explain why you thought it was a good idea to touch her,” Logan growled, his voice low and lethal.

Mark froze for a beat, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, before his jaw tightened. He twisted in Logan’s grip, one hand coming up to shove at Logan’s arm. “Back off, man! This is none of your business—”

Logan didn’t let him finish. His hand tightened in Mark’s shirt, and with a surge of strength, he yanked him forward and slammed him back against the brick wall. The sharp crack of impact made Mark let out a strangled gasp, his bravado faltering.

“It became my business the second you laid a hand on her,” Logan hissed. His voice was a low rumble, the kind that sent chills racing down Y/N’s spine even as she watched from a few feet away, still frozen in place.

Mark’s hands pushed uselessly against Logan’s chest, his struggles growing weaker as he realized just how outmatched he was. “You can’t—she’s—” he stammered, but Logan didn’t give him the chance to finish.

“She’s not yours,” Logan cut in, his voice razor-sharp. “Not anymore. Not ever again. You come near her, you talk to her, you look at her the wrong way—” His grip tightened, and Mark winced, his fear now unmistakable. Logan leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “You’ll wish I’d ended you here. Do you understand me?”

Mark didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking nervously between Logan’s blazing eyes and Y/N’s tear-streaked face.

“I said, do you understand me?” Logan snarled, punctuating the demand by slamming him against the wall again.

“I—yes, I understand!” Mark finally choked out, panic flooding his expression. “I understand, okay?!”

Logan didn’t move for a moment, his eyes boring into Mark’s with a cold, unrelenting fury. Then, as if deciding the man wasn’t worth any more of his time, he released him with a hard shove. Mark stumbled and fell to the ground, scrambling backward on his hands and knees.

“Go,” Logan commanded, his tone sharp and final.

Mark didn’t need to be told twice. He stumbled to his feet, his steps uneven as he bolted from the alley, looking back over his shoulder in terror until he disappeared into the shadows.

Logan stood still for a moment, his chest heaving, the fury still evident in his stiff posture. Slowly, he turned to Y/N, his expression softening the second he saw her trembling form.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he stepped toward her. “Are you okay?”

She nodded weakly, but her tear-streaked face and the way she clutched her arms around herself told a different story.

“I’m fine,” she managed to say, though her voice was shaky and unconvincing.

Logan wasn’t having it. His hands hovered near her shoulders, hesitant but desperate to make sure she was okay. “Did he—” His voice cracked slightly, and he swallowed hard before continuing. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” she said quickly, the word almost instinctive, but her voice faltered again.

He exhaled deeply, his brow furrowing as he scanned her from head to toe, as though he didn’t trust her answer. His hands finally settled gently on her arms, steadying her. “You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice softer, the edge of anger replaced by overwhelming concern.

That was when her composure shattered. A sob escaped her lips, and her knees nearly buckled as she covered her face with trembling hands.

“Hey, hey,” Logan said immediately, stepping closer and pulling her into his arms. His hold was firm but careful, as if he was afraid of breaking her. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

She clung to him, burying her face in his chest as sobs wracked her body. His hand rested on the back of her head, the other rubbing soothing circles on her back as he whispered words of comfort.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out between sobs, though she wasn’t even sure why she was apologizing.

“Don’t,” Logan said firmly, pulling back just enough to tilt her chin up so he could look into her eyes. His gaze was intense, filled with guilt and something else she couldn’t quite place. “You have nothing to be sorry for. This isn’t your fault.”

She nodded weakly, unable to form words, and he wrapped his arms around her again, holding her close like he was afraid to let go.

After a few moments, he leaned down slightly, his voice gentle but resolute. “Let’s go home.”

She nodded again, her head resting against his chest. He kept an arm securely around her as they left the alley, his presence a solid, unwavering anchor in the chaos of her thoughts.

———

The apartment was silent when they arrived. Y/N stepped inside first, her legs dragging beneath her as if the weight of the evening had sunk into her very bones. Logan followed close behind, the door clicking shut with an air of finality that felt louder than it should have in the stillness.

Y/N let her bag slide from her shoulder, dropping it quietly by the couch. She turned to Logan, who lingered near the front door. His posture was rigid, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. His eyes scanned the room briefly before landing on her, though he didn’t hold her gaze for long.

“Wade’s out,” she said softly, her voice sounding far away to her own ears.

Logan nodded, his jaw clenching. “Yeah.”

The air between them was thick, almost suffocating. Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, unsure of what to say or how to fill the silence. Logan was the first to break it.

“Sit down,” he said gruffly, his voice low but firm.

She blinked at him, surprised by the sudden command, but she obeyed without question. Lowering herself onto the couch, she perched on the edge, her hands resting awkwardly in her lap. Logan remained standing, pacing a few steps before running a hand down his face.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked, glancing at her. His tone was sharper than she expected, though it was clear the sharpness wasn’t aimed at her but at himself.

“I’m okay,” she replied with a faint smile, hoping it would reassure him.

It didn’t. His frown deepened as he turned away, his shoulders visibly tense.

“I should’ve…” He trailed off, shaking his head as though the thought itself was unbearable.

Y/N tilted her head, studying him carefully. “Should’ve what?”

“I should’ve been there,” he said, his voice tight. He turned to face her fully, his eyes burning with frustration. “I should’ve been with you, Y/N. And I wasn’t.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he kept going, the words spilling out as though he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

“I’ve been avoiding you,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I know you’ve noticed. I’ve been avoiding you because I’m an idiot. And if I hadn’t—if I hadn’t been so—” He stopped, raking a hand through his hair. “Maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

Y/N stood slowly, her heart aching at the sight of him, so torn up and angry with himself. “Logan, this isn’t your fault,” she said firmly. “He would’ve found a way no matter what. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

His eyes met hers, filled with guilt and something else she couldn’t quite place. He shook his head. “You don’t understand,” he muttered, almost to himself.

She stepped closer, her voice soft but insistent. “Then make me understand.”

Logan exhaled sharply, his gaze flickering to the floor. “I don’t know if I can,” he admitted.

Silence settled over them, the kind that felt louder than words. Y/N watched him carefully, waiting for him to say more, but he didn’t. He just stood there, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, as though he were fighting some invisible battle.

Her heart ached, not just for him but for the distance that had grown between them in the past few days. She wanted to reach out, to close the gap, but something held her back.

Finally, she broke the silence. “I should… I should get some rest,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Logan nodded, though the tension in his body didn’t ease. “Yeah. You should.”

She turned away, her movements slow and deliberate. Each step toward her room felt heavier than the last, the silence behind her pressing down on her like a weight.

Her hand hovered over the doorknob as her thoughts swirled. She could feel his eyes on her, even from across the room. She didn’t have to look to know he was still standing there, watching her retreat.

For a moment, everything stilled. The air felt charged, like the world was holding its breath.

Then, without thinking, she turned around.

Her steps were tentative at first, as though she wasn’t entirely sure of what she was doing, but with each step closer to him, her resolve seemed to strengthen. Logan didn’t move, his body frozen as she came to a stop in front of him.

Her eyes searched his, and before he could say or do anything, she leaned in. Her lips pressed against his, soft and hesitant at first, but filled with a depth of emotion that made Logan’s mind go blank.

For a moment, he didn’t react, too stunned to process what was happening. But then instinct took over, and his hands came up to cup her face, pulling her closer as he kissed her back. The kiss deepened, raw and electrifying, like fireworks exploding behind his closed eyes.

Her hands found their way to his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt as though grounding herself. His arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly, afraid she might disappear.

Everything else faded away—the apartment, the guilt, the fear. All that existed was the two of them, and the overwhelming realization that this moment had been building for far too long.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other’s. Logan’s hands remained on her waist, his touch firm yet tender.

For a moment, neither of them moved, caught in the stillness of what had just happened. The silence between them was heavy, yet not uncomfortable. It was filled with unspoken words, emotions neither of them was ready to name just yet.

Y/N’s lips curved into a small, slightly bashful smile as she pulled back, her hands slowly releasing their grip on his shirt. “We got school tomorrow,” she said softly, the corner of her mouth twitching with amusement.

Logan blinked at her, the weight of everything lifting just a fraction. Then, unexpectedly, a low chuckle escaped him, followed by a soft, almost boyish laugh. “Yeah… we do,” he replied, his voice laced with warmth and something close to disbelief.

For a moment, they both laughed together, the sound filling the quiet apartment. And for the first time in days, it felt easy—like they weren’t two people carrying the weight of unspoken feelings and complicated histories, but just two people who had found something good in each other.

It was almost ridiculous, the way her words made them feel like teenagers sneaking around after curfew. But maybe that was the magic of it—the way they could find something simple and sweet in the middle of the chaos.

As the laughter faded, Y/N’s gaze softened. “Goodnight, Logan,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

His lips tugged into a small, lopsided smile. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

She lingered for a second longer, as though considering saying more, but instead, she stepped back, her hand brushing lightly against his arm before she turned and walked toward her room.

Logan stood there, watching her until her door clicked shut. He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as a mix of emotions swirled within him—hope, fear, and something he wasn’t ready to name.

In her room, Y/N leaned against the door, her heart still racing. She pressed her fingers to her lips, a faint smile tugging at the corners.

They both knew this wasn’t the end of the conversation. There were things that needed to be said, feelings that couldn’t be left unspoken forever.

But for tonight, it was enough.

And for the first time in days, it felt like maybe—just maybe—everything was going to be okay.

XXX

[isaagt]

The difference of being a nice person and a good person, a Curly analysis

Today i’ll be making an analysis i didn't see much on the Mouthwashing fandom, with a particular take on Curly’s character, and his relation with his good and bad traits.

As the game starts and we get to play from his perspective, Curly is presented to us as a nice and good guy. It's stated a few times how he has a good reputation, how he got to a good position in life, Jimmy himself even mocks about it, when they discover about how Ponny Express will only maintain Curly after the shipment “You just couldn't frame it to yourself in a way that kept you as the hero. Abandon the crew but remain the model captain”, here the world ‘kept’ is the most important for us to understand everyone's thoughts on Curly, how he's seen, he's a hero, a nice man, a good captain, someone good with only the best intentions at heart.

Until this moment, everyone saw him as a hero, their vision could be broken by the news they're receiving (it's not), but it's arguable that he told them about it way before he was supposed, because it was the right thing to do, because he couldn't bear to keep it as secret from his crew, from his people.

Until this point, we only see him as the good guy of the story, Swansea was shown as rude and moody, Jimmy is aggressive and confrontational (as we see in his response to it), we saw his jealousy of Curly before too, not much heroic, Daisuke is just chill, more like the comic relief, he's not willing to become our hero, because the game treats him like a kid, and Anya is quiet and reserved, she's not presented as someone particularly good (nor evil), she's professional (as we saw when she was taking Curly’s psychological eval), but that does not mean good.

And who we have left? Curly, who listened to Anya about Jimmy's eval, who is great friends with Jimmy, who talks with Daisuke and has Swansea’s respect (to some extent). Curly, who's calm and centered, who knows what to do and can speak with any of them.

So we have Curly as the good guy here, the right one to lead the crew, the best they could take. Or is it?

When we’re in Jimmy's pov, after the crash, even though we’re led to believe Curly caused the crash, no one appears to see him as bad. Of course, I'm saying it from what we see from Jimmy's biased perspective. Anya even asks about his reasons to do so (even tho i think she could imagine it wasn't him who did it, it's my personal thoughts so i’m counting).

Everyone seems to pity him, Daisuke and Swansea talk about him sometimes but that's it, they don't (or we just haven't seen it) visit him in the infirmary, Anya (and Jimmy, to some extent) takes care of him and that's it.

We pity him, he’s in constant pain (not because of the disability he now has, please know the difference), his so-called ‘friend’ literally punches his pills on him, no one puts him out of his misery, how they did to Daisuke later on.

He’s suffering, it's clear to anyone see, but yet again suffering never made anyone good or evil, suffering is suffering to every human being.

When Anya locks herself with him, we see Jimmy get nervous, not because of Anya herself, but about what she could do to Curly. He still cares about keeping his friend alive, but is it because of the good in his heart or the care for a friend? No, it's about the control he lost on what happens to him.

You could see Curly as a martyr here, he's suffering, forced to watch but not have any control over anything, not himself and not others like before. But as we see later in the game that's his pay for his and Jimmy's sins. (i can get on this point in another analysis)

But even so, we have a moment where Curly laughs at his friend, the new captain's misfortune. He laughs because the things he suffered from Jimmy are being paid how he's paying for Anya and the crew’s suffering.

And here this leads to my point. When we’re Curly again, we interact with Anya, and two of these interactions and another one with Jimmy are what makes me say Curly is not a good man.

The first scene i’m talking about is the conversation he has with Anya when both couldn't sleep. They're looking at the representation of the night sky, and they talk about the dead pixel.

He doesn’t truly understand what she's trying to say here, he says he would look for this dead pixel that haunts her, but dismisses it not long after. He doesn’t understand the correlation with her asking about locks on the doors.

“Safety” he says and this conversation is stopped here.

Now, this scene alone couldn't just prove that Curly isn't great and good and all the jazz. But, it is where she tells him about the SA Jimmy put her through. Why do I think that? Because of the next scene i’m talking about.

In this specific scene we’re looking for the gun, and we find Anya instead, she talks about hiding the gun and how she has hidden it for her own safety. Here she says to us she's pregnant. Curly asks who and she says “Captain, I told you”, this right here makes me believe when she told him, he didn't believe her, he listened, but didn’t recognize what she said as true. He doesn’t immediately think of his friend, he doesn't comfort or protect Anya.

He goes to the third scene i talk about, where he doesn't confront Jimmy, but says it's not his fault, this right here is what says to me he's not a good person. To say he can fix this, is to assume he could erase it, cause there’s no other way this could be fixed. He doesn't make it up to his role as captain protecting someone of the crew. He takes his friend's side, said friend who just puts his blame on him, saying it's his fault and that he will suffer the consequences too.

He doesn't do nothing, he enables it. And when he lets Jimmy take care of it, they end up with the crash, with Jimmy trying to kill everyone else.

When he says to Anya he would do anything to help her he forgot to say that's anything that's not against Jimmy.

He pays for his sins, being forced to watch the consequences of inaction, and is the last one because a captain goes down with the ship, right?

A good man wouldn't let something like that just be, a good man and good captain would protect Anya, and would do the best for the crew.

(i know his situation was hard, i get it, he can't get rid of Jimmy without killing him, but he could let Anya sleep in infirmary, he could make sure they interact the less possible, he could distance himself from an abuser, but he doesn't because it wasn't to him the bad thing happened)

He, although, is a nice man, he's charismatic, he seemed to care, he has a brilliant personality, he’s a good captain for calm times, he isn't prepared for any crisis, to deal with real problems, because he isn't ready to separate personal from professional when it comes to his best friend. He’s a human after all, a nice human, not all the bad, but not good either.

So, that's my analysis, what do you guys think? I would like to discuss this more and see what others think. I took inspiration from other people so don't be surprised if some things look alike some other takes.

[zevrans-remade]

[therighthandofvengeance]

On one hand, I understand where Delenn’s coming from with the whole Lochley-and-Sheridan’s-shared-past thing. But, on the other hand… when in the prior three years did Sheridan not make it absolutely clear (via his actions) that one of his favorite things to do (a hobby, even) is to make an emotionally closed-off sapphic be diplomatic to those whom she can’t stand?

[akkivee]

Ramu’s horrified face throughout the trailer has me dead what is rhyme anima doing to him oml 💀💀💀

exactly what canon did except rhyme anima style maybe lmao!!!!! giving him an existential crisis!!!!!!!! 👍👍

[oceantornadoo]

when you first start talking to simon riley, you want to check yourself into an insane asylum.

you like to think you’re cool, you’re chill, you’re nonchalant. but he takes eight hours to text back, sending you a “come over.” text at 7pm like he hadn’t just ignored you the whole day. you complain to your friends, of course, which is a terrible move when they tell you to drop him and if he wanted to, he would! and you think he does (want to), he’s just so insanely nonchalant about it. so the next time he comes over, chinese takeout in hand after not texting you back since 8am, you go a little crazy…

you open the door for him, stepping back awkwardly when he tries to peck your forehead. he practically shrugs it off, toeing off his boots before setting the food down on your table. “got tha’ dish ya like.” you nod, forgetting his back is to you. simon unpacks the boxes with precision from the bag, not stopping until it’s all laid out on the table. you’ve been quiet for a while, unusual since you’re the talker of the bunch, and that creeping feeling that’s been sliding up his skin finally sets its hooks in him. he turns around curiously, brows furrowing at the sight of you still standing by the door, biting your lip with a timid look and wet eyes. “love?”

you shake your head with a watery smile. “can we talk?” simon follows you as you walk to your couch, feeling like he’s been dropped into an op with no details. he doesn’t know what’s wrong, just that you’re hurting and he seems to be the cause of it. “i just…don’t get it. how you’re acting so normal.” you’re twisting your hands together. “somethin’ happen, love? got me confused.” you give him that small, weak smile again and it’s like you’ve stabbed him in the heart. “you- you barely talk to me all day and then you just come over here like it’s nothing. it’s just so hot and cold and i’m wrecking myself over it when it’s so clear you don’t care. i’m just so confused, si.”

simon runs through his memories. he texted you good morning, you texted it back, then he went about his duties for the day until he was finally free to ask about dinner. hadn’t even picked up his phone in the meantime, security risks or just plain busyness being the cause. “‘ve been busy, sweetheart. ‘s why i asked t’ come over when i was done.” you shake your head, biting your lip. “it’s the modern day, simon. everyone’s on their phones. i don’t think you’re as into this as me, and that’s fine, but i just want to know!”

now simon’s the one shaking his head, pulling out his phone. he might not be tech savvy but he does know this move from johnny, the fucker constantly complaining about his screen time. he pulls up the screen time tracker and turns it to you. “not everyone.” you’re a bit shocked to be honest. his screen time is ten minutes for the entire day. a few in the morning when he texted you and nothing until nighttime, when he texted you again. you’ve never seen anything like it.

“‘m not a big texter an’ we don’t use personal phones for work, so it’s jus’ a brick i leave at home or lug around. ‘s nothin’ on you. been thinkin’ about you all day, to be honest.” your mouth is open, honestly. any other man would have never shown you their minute-by-minute screen time, would have begged off the “busy” excuse while having been on social media for four hours. simon, by all standards, is genuinely different.

“so, you do like me?” he nods stiffly, gloved hands reaching for you. you slide into his lap easily, tucking your face into his neck to hide your heated cheeks. you’d even shed a few tears over this, how embarrassing. “‘course i like you, sweetheart. an’ im sorry if it didn’t feel like it. let’s have it out, yeah?” you nod into his skin and he takes a deep breath, pulling you closer to his heart.

from that day on, you compromise with phone calls. when he’s got a few minutes and you’ve hit a lull at work, he’ll call you. it’s better than any text in the world - hearing his gruff voice asking questions about your messy coworkers or dinner plans. not so nonchalant as you thought.

-

i wish this was from personal experience but unfortunately for me, it’s closer to the men not responding for days but having a screen time of six hours.

[femonologue]

Many years ago, I was wandering around downtown Ottawa with my best friend. We ran into a friend of his who offered us some hash (it sucked), then said there was a really good house party nearby if we wanted to go. We were like, yeah, sure. So that's how we ended up at some completely fucking random person's house.

I look around to ask if my friend knows anyone here and he's simply gone, as is his friend. And this isn't some red solo cup hangout; this is a party. There's people counting out pills on the kitchen counter. I am clearly neither as cool nor as drug-savvy as the kitchen people, so I back away and instead wander aimlessly into the living room, which seems to give off more of a chill vibe.

A bunch of people are seated in a circle on the floor. One of them is fiddling with a big wad of newspaper or something. A really cute grunge girl with piercings and tattoos scoots aside to make room for me, so I sit down.

"What's that," I ask her, gesturing at the newspaper wad.

She gets a really big smile on her face. You know the smile. It's the I'm About To Watch This Innocent Soul Get High As Fuck smile. "You've never smoked a tulip?"

"What's a tulip?" I ask.

"It's like if a joint was also a bong," she replies. "You gotta try it."

"Alright," I reply, a little uncertainly. This will not be my first encounter with weed. I am more comfortable with the janky newspaper bong than I am with whatever the fuck is going on in the kitchen. Besides, this girl is really cute and I would like to have a friend here now that my existing friend has turned into vapor or been transported to the Upside-Down or whatever the hell happened to him.

I watch as one person holds the newspaper joint-bong upright and holds a lighter over the top while another gets beneath it, tilting their head back to take a puff. Apparently smoking this Cheech & Chong monstrosity is a two-person job.

"Oh," I say, looking at the fist-sized knob at the top of the wonky newspaper joint. "Yeah, it does kinda look like a tulip." Grunge girl smiles at me.

I watch as the tulip is passed around the circle, along with the lighter, and hits are cooperatively taken. It reaches grunge girl, who takes a huge puff and holds it for an extended moment before exhaling an impressive blast of smoke. She smiles expectantly and holds the tulip up for me, preparing to spark the gigantic meteor of dank that makes up its tip. By this point I have completely forgotten about my missing friend. I only care about making a good impression on grunge girl. I tilt my head back and hit the tulip like a smokestack.

It is the following morning. I am sleeping between a couch and a wall. I'm not positive that this is the same house I was just in. My memories are gone. Someone is yelling at me: "dude! Dude! Wake up, dude!"

I sit up. My mouth tastes like cigarettes. I do not smoke cigarettes. "Wha," I ask the yelling man, who I am quite confident I have never met before in my life.

"We're going on a quest," he tells me, gravely. "You have to come with us."

I look around. Neither my friend nor his friend are anywhere in sight. I also do not see grunge girl anywhere. I shrug helplessly. "Okay."

We embark from this house. I learn that the destination of this quest is Tim Horton's. This is a relief to me, as coffee and a donut sounds really fucking good right now. Somehow, the route to Tim Horton's takes us past the Governor-General's residence, which everyone else in the group loudly heckles on the way past. I do not know what the Governor-General has done to raise their ire, nor do I particularly care. I trudge along with my hands in my pockets, pleased to note that I still have my wallet, phone, and keys. I fervently wish that I could remember anything about last night. Maybe I talked to grunge girl. Maybe she's why my mouth tastes like cigarettes. The tulip tasted nothing like cigarettes.

I am asked about my politics. I voice my frustrations with corporate corruption, the pay-to-win electoral system, the lack of transparency and accountability. This is met with great approval. The guy who was yelling at me claps me on the back. I get the impression that we became friends last night. I don't recognize his face. I do not know his name and he definitely does not know mine. I behave as though we're friends anyway. We are comrades on a quest.

By the time we make it to Tim Hortons, the gaggle of stoners I'm walking with have all run out of energy and/or attention span. People order snacks and break away in pairs or solo, to call for rides or plan the day's events or just vegetate and wait for the drugs to leave their systems. I look around and find that my nameless friend has also gone to the Upside-Down. As I wash the cigarette taste out of my mouth with coffee, I unsuccessfully try to remember whether I saw grunge girl smoking tobacco at any point. I remember nothing. That tulip was so fucking powerful that it instantly sent me a whole day forward in time.

Alone in the city, I try to call my best friend and get no answer. I walk to the nearest bus stop, catch a bus most of the way home, and call up my parents to ask for a ride back. They ask where my friend is. I tell them that I have no idea; we went to a house party and I don't remember anything else.

When they pick me up from the bus station, they ask me some very safe, nonspecific questions, and seem to relax when I describe what little I can remember. It isn't until years later that I realize they were probably terrified I'd gotten rufied or something, and were so relieved to learn otherwise that they didn't even bother chiding me for smoking myself unconscious in an effort to impress a strange woman. In any case, they were probably happy to find out that I did, in fact, like girls; I suspect they had been privately wondering whether I was gay.

After getting home, I finally manage to get my best friend to answer his phone. I discover that he tried the kitchen pills, spent most of the night crossing the entire city on foot, and crashed at his cousin's house. He sounds like shit. I tell him that he should have tried the tulip, instead. He fervently agrees with me.

I never see grunge girl again.

That's okay, though. She got to see a clueless stranger get fucked the entire way up on some ungodly strain of giga-weed, and I got smiled at by a cute girl, and then I got to go on a quest. Wherever grunge girl is, I hope she's happy. I hope she's smoking the fattest fucking blunt and smiling as some kid passes out behind a couch.

[halfdeadwallfly]

desperately trying to heal my soul with montgomery ricky

whyyy do i have no friends i just need to tallkkkkk to someoneee

[enhard]

⋆˚𝜗𝜚 steambound — park sunghoon

: showering with your boyfriend didn’t seem like such a bad idea, but he wanted it to take a different path.

pairing: bf!p.sh x fem!reader

cw: smut, fluff, praise kink, pet names, shower sex, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex, sunghoon is so slick but he’s a sweetheart ahh, creampie, the littlest bit of degrading (calling you slut once), aftercare, starts off as a normal shower together but..

ENJOY! (MDNI)

You’re lying with your boyfriend, Sunghoon, in his dorm room bed, lights dim and some quiet ambiental music playing.

“I love you” you hear him whisper, while you’re straddled on top of him resting your head on his chest. “I love you too, baby.” You softly kiss his collarbone.

You sit there in silence cuddling for a few minutes before you groan, lifting your head to look at him. He opens his eyes feeling that you moved. “What’s wrong angel?” You run your hands through his hair. “I need to go shower… but I might fall asleep first…”

“If you shower now, you can sleep even better.” he smiles a bit. “You’re right.” You slowly sit up, stretching a bit before getting out of bed.

You grab your towels and everything needed, and finally head to Sunghoon’s personal bathroom. As you get in the shower, you close the glass door and turn on the water. The hot spritz hits your skin, causing you to get warm again. The whole bathroom starts steaming, the gentle sound of the water circulating throughout the room.

After grabbing your shampoo bottle, you hear the bathroom door open, quickly turning your head towards it… as if you could see through the glass. “Princess it’s just me” you hear your boyfriend say, followed by the sound of the door closing behind him. You get back to your shampoo. “Oh hey, need anything?” you ask. He walks towards the glass door, sliding it open to look straight at you. It surprises you a bit but you just smile. “Could I join you?” he looks straight into your eyes. you look a bit stunned but ultimately nod. “Of.. course.. come on.” You both have seen each other naked before but you never showered together, there’s a first time for anything right?

He takes his clothes off one by one, placing them on the sink before getting in as fast as he can to close the door. The air was chilly outside the shower cabin, especially with how he opened the door so you got chills from it. He stands right in front of you, giving you a small kiss as the water hits his back. he leans his head back to wet his hair, running his hand through it multiple times. You just can’t stop smiling seeing your boyfriend in the shower with you.. something you never thought would happen today.

You stare at him a little bit more, especially his body as he gets it all wet, but after you just mind your own business, turning around and lathering your hair, scrubbing your scalp with your fingertips. “Wait, my love.” he says softly, making you take your hand away. He begins massaging your head, really taking his time scrubbing your hair to the best extent. You just close your eyes, leaning your head back to let him have better access.

“Why couldn’t we do this earlier… feels so good.” you say, smiling. He laughs a bit, insisting on scrubbing the back of your head. “Good thing we are doing it now, you like it?” he leans in to give your shoulder a kiss. “It’s so relaxing, I should try it on you as well..” you say. He moves you to the shower head, letting all that soap rinse off your head, protecting your face by putting his palm on your forehead like an umbrella. “Your hair’s gotten longer. So pretty.” he praises, and you smile. “Isn’t it a pain to wash?” he shakes his head. “Not when i’m washing yours.”

After he rinses well, you turn back around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you, let me wash your hair now.” he does a small nod. “I love you more. Let me get you my shampoo.” He says, leaning forward to grab his own bottle, handing it to you. You take it, spurting a small amount of shampoo into your palm. You emulsify before applying it to his soaking wet hair. You struggle a little to massage it real well into his hair, raising yourself up on your toes. “You’re too tall, I can’t reach that well.” you sigh, and he resolves it by sitting down on the small shower bench incorporated in the shower cabin. You easily have access to his hair now, so you continue scrubbing with your fingers. You get all in behind his ears, the back of his head and his favourite spot, close to his forehead. He lets out a few groans, the sound of the water blending into the background.

You continue smiling while insisting harder on it, circling around and moving back and forth. He closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling too much. “Never thought you would love this so much, baby.” you tease, and he bends his neck in all ways to get you to massage everywhere. “Why do you think I always fall asleep to your head massages?” he asks. “Oh that’s right. You’re so cute.” you smile.

You continue your massage for a few more minutes, and when you stop he whines. “Mm.. is it already over?” he pouts. “You can always get more, just ask. Now let’s wash up before someone scolds us.” you tilt your head.

He suddenly grabs your waist, pulling you towards him. He gives your tummy multiple kisses, getting closer and closer to your navel.

“You’re tickling me.” you giggle, grabbing onto his shoulders. He looks up at you, giving your abdomen one last kiss before standing up. He towers over you again, grabbing the soap you’re gonna use for your bodies. He lathers the soap in his hands, before rubbing them on your abdomen. He soaps up your stomach real good before moving up to your chest. “Can I?” he looks up at you. “Of course, can touch me anywhere.” you both smile. He brushes his hands over your nipples, gently cupping your tits. He plays with them a bit, not even being able to wash you like he swore he would. You look up at him as he’s absorbed in your tits. “Got a little distracted?” you laugh. He shakes his head, massaging them a bit before moving up to your collarbone. “My bad… it’s hard to stay focused when you look so attractive.” he bites his lip. “You’re so hot when you say that. You can continue.” and he nods. He moves his hand down your arms, immediately jumping to your legs. He kneels down, giving you a smile before tracing his palms along your hips. You smile back at him, grabbing his forearm. He leaves bubbles all over your thighs, making risky circles around your inner thighs. He moves down your legs to your feet. After he’s done, he makes you turn around. “Let me wash your back too.” he says.

He continues by lathering your back with more soap, scratching it for you. He moves down your lower back to your ass, where he grabs it without any warning. He squeezes it a few times, before moving his hand down your pussy, rubbing his fingers on your core making you jump. “Hoon… what are you doing..” you say, barely resisting his movements. “Let me make you feel good.” he says, rubbing them forward, reaching your clit. Your legs slightly part, letting him circle your clit the best he can. You let out a small moan, leaning your head back. He rubs his fingers back and forth again, stopping at your core to insert both his fingers inside you. You really moan now, grabbing onto the wall. He pumps his fingers inside you while squeezing your ass with his other hand. “You’re doing so well for me, princess.”

You shut your eyes, beginning to struggle on his fingers. “Sunghoon that feels.. so good. Faster… please.” he nods before picking up his pace, curling his fingers right onto your g-spot. You let out a screech, leaning your head forward now. “Right there… oh my… i’m—” you get cut off by another moan. He smiles hearing it, reaching to rub your clit again with his other hand. You’re shaking under his touch and he can’t help but get hornier as time goes on. It doesn’t take long before you reach the edge, trying so hard not to finish before warning him. “I’m..gonna.. cum.. please..” you cry out. He keeps his pace constant, allowing you to finish. “Doing so well for me, my love. You’re so perfect.” he praises. You bottom out on his fingers, grasping the cold tiles as hard as you can. Your shaking orgasm washes over you as he pulls his fingers out. “There we go, pretty girl.”

You pant against the wall, before slowly turning around to face him. You grab onto his built arms, squeezing his skin. “Let me wash your body now, that’s what we were doing, right?” you give him a slight smile while looking into his eyes. He stares at your lips, nodding.

You grab the soap again, lathering it in your hands before running your palms all over his pecs, down to his abdomen. You move your hands up and down, feeling every inch of his body. You move up to his shoulders, going down his arms, grabbing his biceps with every occasion. “You’ve gotten so built, no?” you say. “You like it? I’ve been going to the gym with Jay lately.” you raise your eyebrows. “Oh really? I should see you work out soon, then.” you move your hands to his forearms, then intertwine your fingers with his. “Would you be able to resist?” he teases. “Can’t promise anything.” You shrug your shoulders and he smiles.

You jump dangerously close to his v-line, tracing your fingers on the dented lines in his skin. “Are you gonna let me go lower?” you look up at him. “Maybe, if I hear you say please.” he caresses your cheek. You roll your eyes.

“Please let me give you a handjob.”

He stares into your eyes for a moment, then he just gives you a slight nod. You smile, already grabbing his half-hard cock. Stroking it, you can feel it getting more erect with each stroke. By the time he’s fully hard, you’re already picking up your pace, squeezing his tip every time you reach it. He stands there, juggling between looking at you and looking at your hand. The water hits his back once again, washing away all the soap you distributed on his abdomen. “Keep going.” he says in a cool tone, making sure you keep that pace he loves so much. You nod, smiling down at his swollen cock. You place your hand in his abdomen, feeling the strings of water running down his skin, now making contact with your fingers. You feel every muscle under his skin, squeezing at his pecs as usual. He lets out low grunts, licking his lips a few times. “How is it, baby?” you ask. He closes his eyes. “Feels good. Do think.. your pussy would feel better.. though..” he slightly whispers, his words getting interrupted by the sound of the water anyway.

“Oh yeah? wanna test that theory out?” you say, grabbing at his tip again and he flinches. “Fuck— yeah… let’s do it..” You both smile at each other. You take your hands completely off him, letting him do the work now. However, you see him just standing there.. actually waiting for you to do something. “…Well? aren’t you gonna throw me around, mr. strong man?” you say sarcastically, and he immediately pulls you into his embrace. He grabs your waist tightly as he gives you a small kiss. “Let me take care of you.” You smile at him, not expecting such an answer at this moment but.. your boyfriend has always been nice to you. “I don’t mind that either..” you say, giving him another kiss.

He uses his hands to slowly turn you around, tilting his head to pepper kisses all over your neck, wet sounds escaping his mouth with each kiss. He pushes you against the cold shower tiles, glueing your chest and cheek to it. He continues kissing your neck, to your back until you start whining for more. “Hoon.. please…. I need you so bad.” you say. He smiles before replying. “You’re so impatient.” He grabs your ass, fondling it before grabbing his cock to grind against you.

He teases your wet pussy multiple times with his tip. He stops right at the entrance, slapping your ass with his other hand while doing so. “Inside… please.. please.” you beg. He kisses your shoulder, slowly shoving it inside you as you go. Once he gets his whole length in, he stops for a few seconds to let you adjust, beginning to thrust only when he knows you’re ready. “You’re doing so well my love. You always take it so good.” he praises. You leave out little noises, really letting him feel your insides, spreading your legs more and more with each thrust of his.

He’s going slow, but deep. It feels way more intimate this way, with his nose so close to your ear, you can hear his interrupted breathing mixed with the sound of water. You enjoy it quite a bit, sneaking your hand down to your clit just to circle it multiple times. Your moans pick up their intensity, the sound getting overbearing even for the water. “You’re lucky we’re doing this in the shower, you’re louder than usual, baby.” he says. You nod against the tiles, arching your back even more against him. “Go faster..” you plead, and he does. He significantly changes his rhythm, making your thighs shake already. The sound of your skin slapping is getting enhanced by the wet environment, however you’ve both grown to love that sound. You start bouncing yourself on him, and he stops thrusting to let you do just that. You push your ass back and forth on him, wrapping around him so well.

He slaps your ass again, making you flinch. “Such a good girl for me, didn’t know you were this desperate.” he smiles. “I need you so bad.” you say, almost drooling on your own words. You speed up even more, grabbing the tiles with both hands now, putting all your force into swinging yourself. Sunghoon leaves out a moan, grabbing your waist with one hand. That sudden change caught him off guard, making him bottom out again. “Fuck, that feels so good. You’re gonna make me cum soon.” he says. You smile widely hearing that wishing for that as bad as ever. He moves his hand from your waist to your clit, his slender fingers exploring your upper folds, going forward to your clit again, rubbing, slapping and abusing it until you become a moaning mess as you fuck yourself onto him.

He leans forward, really pushing your body downwards into a somewhat doggy position. He grabs one of your tits with one hand, keeping his other fixated on your clit. “Already tired? Come on, keep going.” he speaks when he feels you slow down. “I can’t d..do it anymore..” you cry. “Oh really? my poor girl can’t whore herself out on me cause she’s tired?” he teases and you cannot stop moaning and shaking your head. “Let me lend you a hand.” he says, before successfully keeping you in place, before thrusting into you like never before.

He has a speed that he didn’t think he could reach, he’s fucking you so fast you barely have time to react. The slaps are so frequent you’re both surprised how nobody came to see what was going on. Must be better that way anyway, cause Sunghoon’s busy making both of you feel good. You finally clench around his dick, leaving out moans so hot its driving him insane. “Hoon… I need.. to ..cum..” you gulp. He keeps his pace consistent, breathing through his mouth already. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Be a good girl and cum all over like I want you to.” he leads you on. With a few more rapid thrusts, you finish, legs shaking under him. You thought you were gonna slip and fall, but he’s holding you firmly.

“Oh..God..” you whisper out. He smiles at you, getting closer to his release as well due to your constant movement. He pounds into you like an animal, barely caring about anything that’s happening around him. He always does this when he’s about to cum, making sure that you feel the most satisfied beforehand. He leaves out moans more frequently, his pace definitely getting more inconsistent. “Baby.. please..” he begs out not being able to finish his sentence. “Cum inside me… come on..” you say breathlessly. He follows your orders with no objections of course, coming undone with a few more thrusts. He grabs your hips tightly while leaving slow thrusts as he cums inside. He jerks his head back, closing his eyes in pleasure. After his high calms down, he pulls out, giving his cock a few more strokes.

You both breathe heavily, part of his cum oozing out of you rapidly. You don’t worry about it too much, knowing you’ll wash yourselves up anyway. The night followed with yet another round of a shower, a normal one this time, where Sunghoon really took his time making sure you know you’re loved, hugging you, kissing you, washing you up real well.

“I love you so much.” You look at him with admiration.

“I love you more princess. Now let me wash those breasts.” He says, focused.

“Hoon, you already lathered them in soap 2 times.” You giggle.

The night ended with lots of cuddles in bed, feeling so tired after two things that make you sleepy at the same time, showers and sex.

[letoasai]

Will work for food

DP x DC An idea that's probably been done before but... here it is again.

~~

It was not an ideal setting for this. Out in the open, debris being their only cover. An unnatural storm closing in. The area had been evacuated but there was still no telling how many civilian eyes could be on them at this very moment. 

The League was scattered, making this current group a touch at odds while away from the majority of their normal teams. 

Batman stood with Red Robin, Flash, Superboy, and Raven. It wasn’t a bad lineup, but things were getting dicy. 

A monster had appeared, a creature foreign to most of them. With it came storms of all kinds, winds, hail, rain. It was a mess but there was nothing natural about it. The hail shattered the pavement. The winds were picking buildings up off their foundations. The blue lightning went without saying. The ice was changing the terrain. The temperature changes were disorienting to most of the heroes.  

Worse was the fact that this creature seemed to be able to duplicate itself, spreading the chaos out to a much wider area. They were having trouble even touching the thing let alone capturing it. 

“Are you sure about this?” Batman asked, a deep frown etched into his face as he watched Raven mark out a summoning circle. 

“It’s the only idea i have.” She said bluntly, shivering from the sudden chill. “That thing is not of this realm. We need something else not of this realm to subdue it.” 

“I hear what you’re saying but summoning a demon to deal with a demon still leaves us with a demon.” Flash said, seeing the flaw in this plan. 

“Unless you know this one personally or something.” Red Robin offered, his voice exhausted. 

“It’s not a demon.” Raven said, tone irritated but it wasn’t like any of them were having a good day. “Depending on how you want to look at it, it’s far worse than a demon. That thing came from the Infinite Realm.” 

Superboy just grunted once, watching her put the finishing touches on her spell circle. “You said that in a tone that said it was in capital letters. What’s the Infinite Realm?” 

“Bad news and something we shouldn’t freaking touch.” Raven answered swiftly. She stood, eyes going over her work. 

“Then what the hell are we doing?” Flash asked quickly, all of them tensed as the wind started to pick up again. If a hurricane was thrown at them, there was little they’d be able to do about it. 

“Raven.” Batman’s voice was serious. “You’re sure?” 

“It’s all i’ve got.” She repeated. “This is not a problem this realm was meant to handle on short notice. We need help.” 

There were several things in that one statement he didn’t like. “Who are you summoning?” 

Raven was looking rather pale herself. “The Ghost King. The King of the Infinite Realm. I’ve heard word that he can be bargained with so… we’re gonna give it a shot.” 

She didn’t wait for permission from anyone else to throw in their two cents on the matter. She threw her hands out, alien words no one else understood on her lips. The chant repeated and the summoning circle began to glow a green that the present Bats didn’t care for. 

It crept up the walls of the summoning circle in oddly pretty patterns before a gaping void opened on the ground. Silently, a figure rose into the circle from that same void. The king was smaller than they’d been imagining the last minute or two. He was human shaped and sized, a black crown floating several inches over his head. He was a wispy figure, face hidden by a large hood but there were strands of white hair floating around their shadowed face. He’d had nothing but a smoky looking tail when he’d first appeared but that had now split into solid looking legs. 

Given his size, he seems like a young adult, but it was hard to say for certain without seeing his face. 

“Woah.” Red Robin muttered, Superboy agreeing with the sentiment. 

“Heroes?” The Ghost King wondered, voice soft and lethargic. “Interesting.” 

Raven bowed her head in a show of respect. “Your Majesty. I apologize for the abrupt summons. We have a dire situation and are willing to make a deal for your help.” 

“A deal…” His voice echoed gently. He spoke as if raising his voice would shatter the very air around them. “That’s not something to choose lightly. What do you want from me?” 

Raven swallowed, her body rigid with nerves. She was almost relieved when Batman took over. 

“As i understand it, we have a being from your realm here in ours. We are underprepared to deal with such destruction and-” 

“Of my realm?” The King interrupted softly, head tipped a little as his attention turned to Batman. “Who?” 

Flash laughed nervously. “We’re not on a first name basis or anything but the guy seems to control the weather.” He pointed up and the sky above them was darkening the longer they spoke. 

The King made a noise like he’d clucked his tongue and it struck all of them as a very human kind of gesture despite his title. 

“I can handle that. Your deal?” 

Raven inhaled again, this obviously being the part she was dreading. “Blood, i have the blood of the Demon Lord Trigon-” 

“Pass.” 

That drew everyone up short. The others didn’t exactly understand the significance of Raven offering her blood but it clearly wasn’t something she’d expected to be declined so quickly. 

“My soul then….” Raven muttered. 

“Raven, no!” Superboy hissed. “The fuck!” 

Batman was also eyeing her unhappily. “Absolutely not. You are not Constantine.” 

Fortunately for the heroes, each of which was ready to revolt for such a barter, the Ghost King waved the thought away. 

“Nah.” He tugged on his hood a little and Batman realized he was likely brushing away one of those white strands of hair from his face. “That’s the thing about being the King of the Infinite Realm. Souls come to me one way or another in time. No need to preorder them.” 

Raven’s shoulders sagged, eyes shifting as she rapidly tried to think of something else she could offer. 

“What do you want?” Red Robin asked before anyone else could say something stupid. “You’re the one that’s going to fight this threat for us. What’s a good deal?” 

The King turned to him and stared. They could only assume he was contemplating his answer when he hummed quietly. “Food.” 

“Wha…” Flash muttered. 

The Ghost King just nodded. “Food from your realm. It’s been…a long time since i’ve eaten.” 

“Really? Like we could go grab you a burger and that would be cool?” Superboy asked, a touch suspicious, but the King just nodded.  

“Deal.” Raven said before anyone would make it worse. “A meal for returning this threat back to your realm.” 

The King nodded again, and each of them backed up several paces when the walls to the summoning circle broke apart and the King stepped out. For the briefest of moments he seemed to nearly stumble under the gravity of actually ‘walking’ but he got over it quickly enough. 

“Can we offer you any assistance?” Batman asked. 

The King shook his head. “No.” He wandered off towards the storm, the floating crown on top of his head seeming a little larger. He moved confidently and with purpose. “Oh Vortex…” He called, walking into the winds. 

He sounded young, but all of them agreed immediately that they never wanted to hear him beckoning them the same way. His tone was dangerous, and he walked right through a car that had been flung in his direction. 

“Cool.” Red Robin muttered. 

“Simmer down, Red.” Superboy muttered. All of them wanted to follow, but with the unstable weather and a literal Ghost King wandering about, staying out of the way felt like the best option. Of course that didn’t mean they weren’t dying of curiosity. 

Flash moved to stand beside Raven, making sure she wasn’t about to topple over because of the power it must have taken to summon a king from another dimension. “You good?” 

“Yeah.” she breathed out a sigh. “Honestly, this was an unforeseen best case scenario. You should really go get that food for him.” 

Batman moved to her otherside, hearing the voices over comms noticing a shift in what was happening. “You think it will be over that fast?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well-” Flash looked up at the sky that was rapidly clearing. “Yep. I’ll be right back.” He was gone in a blur but it was hard to believe a change was happening so quickly. 

“Has it even been a full minute?” Superboy asked. “I mean, damn…” 

“Someone better have been recording visuals.” Red Robin muttered. “We are absolutely missing something amazing.” 

“He’s the King of the infinite Realm.” Raven said. “It’s the realm that connects every other realm and it is as the name implies… infinite. He rules it. I don’t even think Trigon would dare mess with him.” 

Batman had his arms crossed, still listening to the amazed chatter over comms. “Should it be suspicious that all he wants is food?” 

“He made the deal.” Raven shrugged. “He could have asked for anything. Literally.” She stopped speaking when the hooded king returned. He was floating this time though only a foot or two off the ground. He didn’t look tired or dirty or anything. 

Just the same ethereal otherness he’d arrived with. “Done.” He announced. 

“What uh- happened to the guy?” Superboy asked, pointing vaguely at where the storm had been raging. 

The Ghost King just dug into his cape and pulled out…a thermos. “Souped him. He’s gonna have a little time out.” 

“Oh my god, i have so many questions.” Red Robin whispered. 

The thermos was put away and Batman was suppressing his own urge to ask a dozen questions over what just occurred. They’d been struggling with the Infinite creature for hours and countless lives had no doubt been altered. Clean up would take weeks if not months and this Ghost King handled it in minutes. 

“My food?” 

“On the way.” Raven said immediately. “Flash is one of the fastest men on the planet. He’ll be right back.” 

The King nodded and looked around before moving to a pile of bricks that had once been a fence. He sat down and waited, somehow looking regal among the wreckage. 

“So… I’m Red Robin.” Batman looked up again when his son was sliding closer to introduce himself. “Superboy, Raven, Batman.” He gestured and the King’s hood shifted as he followed Red Robin’s introduction of them. “Is there something we can call you or is your Majesty the most appropriate?” 

The Ghost King sat in silence for a moment before reaching up to lower his hood. The shadows that had hidden his face disappeared revealing a young man only a little older than Tim. Maybe around Jason’s age. His hair was indeed white, and was braided down the nape of his neck save for the tufts of hair that floated around his face. 

His skin was pale, and Batman thought it might have been gray or even blue in different light. His ears were pointed and his eyes were a haunting green. 

With the hood out of the way, the crown lowered to sit on his head. 

“Phantom.” He finally answered. “You can call me Phantom.” 

Raven bowed her head again and Red Robin beamed. “Thank you for helping us! We literally couldn’t have done it without you.”

Phantom nodded again but without his hood to shield him there was something shy about the action. 

The Flash reappeared in a cloud of dust, two bags of fast food in one hand and a collection of drinks under the other arm. “I got a little of everything!” He announced. “Got some burgers and some chicken nuggets and fries and onion rings. There’s one of those little apple pies in here somewhere too.

Phantom took the bags with a small smile and set them beside him so he could go through them. Superboy helped with the drinks, setting everything down so Phantom could have his pick. There were three different sodas, a lemonade, and a water. 

It wasn’t fancy and probably wasn’t a fair trade of a meal for his services but he didn’t seem disappointed. 

In a flash of rings made of light, Phantom transformed. The otherness of him was still there, but instead of a noble king of a realm, a young…very living human was in his place. Black hair instead of white was still braided down his neck and the strands around his face hung limp instead of floating. 

Those eerie green eyes were now blue but that– oddly enough– was not the most startling thing about his transformation. He wore a large hoodie and jeans but his feet were bare. 

His hands and feet were almost skeletal, and his face was gaunt and starved looking. His eyes were slightly sunken and his skin was a sickly kind of pale. 

He looked emaciated, but there was the smallest of smiles on his face when he ate one fry and then another. He took a sip from every drink offered to him and then took a bite out of the burger. 

They couldn’t help but stand there and watch, all of them transfixed over what they were seeing. 

Phantom took two more bites before wrapping up the rest of his burger and placing it back in the bag. 

“Not to your liking?” Flash asked, voice small. 

Phantom licked his fingers and shook his head. “No, it was good. I’m just full. I’ll take it with me and eat it later when i’m hungry again.” 

Batman could only imagine the size of his stomach. Stopping now was probably the healthiest thing he could have done if he wanted to keep the food down. He cleared his throat. “Are you alright?” 

“Mhmm.” Phantom nodded, the rings of light appearing again. He was back in his healthier looking ghostly form. That was an oxymoron, wasn’t it? A healthy ghost form… 

“You’re still alive.” Raven whispered, stuck in her shock. “The living shouldn’t… The Infinite Realm isn’t…” 

Phantom’s lips tipped up in a smile. “You’re right, but wrong. I’m both. I’m dead. I’m alive. I’m balance.” He paused for a moment. “I haven’t been in a living realm for a while… guess i’ve been neglecting that side of me. Thanks for the food, it was a good deal.” 

He was gathering up the bags he clearly planned to take with him. 

“You should come back.” Red Robin spat the words out, likely before giving them any real thought. “I’ll take you to lunch. I’ll take you like… all the time. I am not going to pretend to know what you have going on but… shit, Agent A would disown me if i did not offer to feed you.” 

Phantom looked cold briefly. “Agent… A…?” 

Red Robin winced, “Code name for my grandfather. He’s an amazing cook.” 

“Red Robin.” Batman scowled at him. 

“Oh, what? He’s gonna give you the look for you not being the one to offer.” Red Robin said unapologetically, but the explanation had Phantom softening again. “What do you say? Lunch? Do i have to summon you?” 

“Jesus, Red. Let him actually decline or accept.” Superboy was snickering. 

Phantom looked between them, the confusion on his face clearing up after a beat. A piece of paper appeared between his fingers. It had some kind of squiggle on it none of them could read at a glance. He handed it over to Red Robin. 

“Have that on you, say my name. I’ll find you.” Phantom said. “I should…eat again.” 

“We…appreciate you helping us.” Raven added quickly, determined that they make a good impression. 

Phantom’s look grew warmer again. “It was fun.” With his bags and drinks in his arms, he wandered back over to the summoning circle. “I don’t mind helping when the trouble is severe and you were right. This particular problem was mine to clean up. Sorry about him, by the way. Vortex is an asshole.” 

Superboy and Flash both snorted. “Thanks anyway.” 

Phantom nodded at them again, floating in the middle of the circle before his eyes glowed that bright, toxic green again. He slipped inside the void and disappeared as quickly as he arrived, the remains of the summoning circle erasing itself. 

“So… That happened.” Flash muttered, not sure how they were gonna put this in a report to the rest of the League members. Batman wasn’t so sure either. 

“I can’t believe you were just hitting on the Ghost King, Red.” Superboy laughed. “I mean… Lunches?”

“What?” 

Raven was on her phone. “I am already telling Nightwing.” 

“What!? Hey!” Red Robin was looking between them. “I wasn’t hitting on him. You leave Wing out of this!” 

“No way.” 

“You asked him on a date, man!” Superboy grinned. “All the titans are going to know about this in the next hour.” 

“You guys suck!” Red Robin growled, his face a flame. 

Batman just sighed. “There’s clean up to do. Get to work.” 

He definitely did not need to think about his son’s audacity, coming onto a King of an entire realm. Where did he even learn that kind of behavior?

~~

Masterlist