#i too am feral constantly as you can see

[not-neverland06]

Kid?

Logan Howlett x fem!mutant!reader A/N: I haven’t watched X-Men since I was a child, so I can’t promise this is going to be canon-compliant. I haven’t watched DP & W either, I’ve just been influenced by that one gif where Hugh Jackman shakes his head like a dog. I feel FERAL Also, I am not good at superhero names or coming up with creative powers. So you’re a mutant with matter manipulation and they call you Flux. I mean, superhero names are inherently ridiculous so I think this works. (Don’t judge me, I’m just here for the sexy man) Summary: You walk in on Logan and Jean in a compromising position and feel your heart break. You really thought he loved you, you were so wrong. (Or were you?)

It was your own fault, you should have knocked before you busted through the door. You only have yourself to blame as you struggle to catch your breath and swallow down the lump in your throat. The image of Logan standing between Jean’s bare legs is going to haunt you for a while. Their faces will keep you awake at night, cringing at yourself while you remember the humiliating moment. 

You rush towards the door, a stupidly giddy skip to your step. You were a mutant, a superhuman, and getting a chance to talk to your crush should not have you giggling like a schoolgirl. Still, you’re blind to all logic when it comes to Logan. 

You turn the corner, spotting the medbay and nearly ramming into the door you know he’s lurking behind. Charles had told you where to find him. Of course, you hadn’t paid attention to the odd tone of voice when he had very clearly warned you to knock. All you’d heard was Logan’s name and you’d zoned out for the rest of the conversation. 

And, of course, you don’t knock. You grab the door’s handle and bust in, “Hey!” Your eyes widen and your stomach plummets with a depressing plop to the floor. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see the way Jean and Logan are entangled in each other. He’s leaning over her, the muscles and veins in his neck pulsing with strain. Normally, that sight would have you nearly drooling. 

Instead, all you can see is the flush on Jean’s cheeks and the way her pupils are dilated with want. Her nails are digging into his back, bare legs twined around his waist. There’s no way to misinterpret this. No way for you to later assure yourself that this was all just a misunderstanding. 

The words stumble out of your mouth in a disjointed mess that even you can’t decipher. You stand there, jaw opening and closing like a fish out of water before you finally get it together. “Charles,” you stutter out, his name sounding like a question. You wince and finally tear your gaze away from them. “Sorry,” you chuckle, trying to play off your hurt as humor. “Charles needs us all for a mission.”

You don’t give them a chance to respond, you slam the door closed, ignoring what you think might be someone calling your name. 

You shake off the mortifying memory and groan. Your head falls into your hands and you grip at your face until the pain distracts you from the embarrassment. It’s not too hard to push it all down, to pretend what happened didn’t make your heart crumble away into nothing.

Maybe it’s because you’re a mutant that you’re so used to rejection. You’re used to constantly being disappointed by people around you. Your childhood was nothing but cruelty, your crush not liking you back can’t compare to half of what you went through. 

That’s what you tell yourself, at least, to try and pretend it doesn’t hurt as much as it does. You shove it down until you think you can’t feel that dull ache anymore. And when Jean and Logan walk into the room, looking more put together, you smile at Logan like you always do. It doesn’t turn down at the corners, your eyes don’t water. You take in a deep breath and look utterly unaffected. 

He sits down beside you and leans towards you. “I can explain-”

You cut him off and shake your head. “Forget about it. I should have knocked.” You turn towards Charles who wheels himself to the front of the room. You dismiss Logan and ignore the way his stare burns into the side of your head. 

Charles looks to Jean and Logan, a smile starting. Then his gaze drifts towards you and your chest deflates when you see the look on his face. He knows, the old miser probably coasted over your thoughts and he knows. He sends you a sympathetic look that makes you feel like a little girl who just got told unicorns don’t exist. “Jean, Logan, glad that you’ve finally joined us.”

Logan nods and leans back in his chair. But his eyes remain fixed on you and it makes you wish you could stab a fork into them. You let out a short, irritated huff of air and frown at yourself. Maybe you were a little more angry than you would like to admit. 

You blame Logan for that. You never would have fallen so deep into infatuation if you hadn’t believed there was even a sliver of a chance with him. Always speaking so kindly with you when he would barely spare anyone a second glance. Constantly doing checkups on you after a particularly harsh training session with Charles. 

Your mind runs over all the small things with him, everything you’ve done together. And you’re hit with a sudden nauseating thought. Oh my god, what if he sees me paternally?

You force yourself not to physically react but inside your throwing up and fucking freaking out. You feel a sudden spark of alarm from Charles and quickly do your best to fortify your mind so he doesn’t see your major mental freakout. 

You’re not that much younger than him. Well, it’s not illegal, your crush on Logan. But what if this entire time, when you’ve been falling harder and harder for him, he’s just been platonically taking care of you? You’ve seen him do it plenty of times for the younger kids, as reluctant as he is to admit it. 

You’re spiraling further and further into panic. So much so that you have no idea what’s even being discussed or what’s going on. You get onto the jet and have to ask Storm what you’re doing. She gives you a confused look but tells you nonetheless. Just some recon on a potential mutant trafficking ring. Nothing out of the ordinary, as depressing as that is. There shouldn’t be much violence, which is why your group is particularly small today.

You nod your head, moving like you’re in a daze as you throw yourself onto a seat. Logan sits beside you, an alarmed look on his face. “You alright, kid?”

The nickname, which is used to make your stomach flutter, makes you want to throw up. How have you missed it for this long? It was laid out so plainly before you. Of course, he doesn’t want you. Not when he has perfect Jean. Bile rises in your throat with a vicious ferocity when you glare over at Jean. 

There’s a sudden petty, vindictive rage fueling you. The type you should have abandoned in high school, especially now that you’re grown. Instead, you feel like giving into Logan’s idea of what you are. You feel like reacting to all of this petulantly. 

You ignore Logan and instead catch Jean’s eyes. Slowly, and with as much intention as you can force into your gaze, you look from her to Logan and then Scott. Her eyes widen and Logan scoffs beside you. She shakes her head minutely, silently begging you not to say anything. You smile at her and stand up.

You take a step towards Scott and Logan calls out an irritated, “Kid.” You ignore him and Jean eyes you warily as you approach. She stands like she’s ready to fight you and take the jet down just to keep you quiet. You reach Scott and can hear the way Jean takes in a sharp breath. 

“Scott,” he looks up at you with his brows raised. There's a pause before you speak. Dragged on too long for Scott not to realize you’re planning something. 

Jean takes a step towards you and you grin, “Mind checking my cuffs?” Scott gives you an odd look and his confusion only gets worse as Jean slumps onto the seat beside him. She’s not even trying to hide her relief. Scott shakes his head and holds his hands out, fingers gently probing around the cuffs on your wrists. The ones that keep your powers in check. 

You’re still new to welding them. And they’re too entwined with your emotions for you to just have free range with them. If you hadn’t had the cuffs on this morning, you’re afraid you might have just turned everything around you into nothing but dust.

“They look fine, Flux.” His tone betrays his thoughts. He doesn’t know why you’d come to him for this when it’s Charles who usually deals with it. But this stupid, petty little display wasn’t for poor oblivious Scott. It was for the woman sitting next to him. The redhead whose still drilling holes into your skull. 

You’ve got leverage over her that you’ve never had before. Scott wouldn’t take her little foray with Logan very well. And all it would take is a flick of your wrist to give him a very clear image of exactly what you’d seen. Then, her picture-perfect relationship would be over in a matter of seconds. You’re sure Logan would be more than pleased. But he doesn’t seem to understand that Jean just wants to have fun with him, she’d never choose him over Scott. 

“Thanks,” there’s a bite to your tone that you’re not used to. You usually keep your emotions relatively in control. That way you won’t have to wear these cuffs one day. But you feel volatile today. You’re channeling your hurt and turning it into misguided anger. 

You drop your wrists to your sides and stalk toward the front, hovering behind Charle’s and Storm’s chairs so you don’t have to look at the others. It doesn’t take long for you to feel the floor trembling under heavy booted steps. 

Logan’s arms rest on the headrest of the chairs, bracketing you in between them so you can’t escape. He leans forward until his chest is pushed against yours and you can feel every ridge of his muscled torso pressing into you. You try not to suck in a breath, try not to play into the cliche of instantly forgetting why you’re angry when you’re faced with those muscles of his. It is hard, though, because he’s so handsome and so warm and you just want to melt into him. 

“Wanna explain what the hell that was?” His voice is so low, whispering against the shell of your ear so only you can hear. You feel the vibrations of it against your back, his tone more gravelly than it should be. 

You glance over your shoulder at him, face placid and blank. “What? Just needed some help.” Storm looks over at you both and rolls her eyes. 

Logan opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off. “Put a pin in the lover’s spat, we’re landing.” Using just a bit of your power, you push Logan off of you and head towards the back of the jet. There’s a slight jolt as you land and then the ramp opens up and you’re practically running into the snowy forest. 

You don’t know where you are, mainly because you weren’t paying attention, you just know it's fucking freezing. The leather of your suit isn’t doing much to help fight against the chill. Charles stays on the jet and reminds you all that this is only meant to be recon. You’re partnered up with Logan, and as much as it irritates you, you’re not stupid enough to argue against it.

You have to put aside your personal grievances for this mission. You can’t risk the safety of mutants because the guy you like likes another girl. Logan seems pleased about it, stubbornly staying by your side even when you make it clear you want space. 

You both linger behind the other’s as Storm leads you through the forest. Jean is being more touchy with Scott than normal. Either to assuage her own guilt or to rub it in Logan’s face, you’re not sure which. You nearly gag as you watch them whisper to one another, you glance over at Logan to see if he notices. 

You’re startled when you see him already staring at you. His lips tick up into something mischievous when he catches your eye. That smug smirk on his face as he leans in towards you. “Wanna tell me what’s got you so pissed off?”

You roll your eyes and tamp down the rising tide of anger. “Nothing,” you bite out, jaw clenching the longer you stare at the back of Jean’s head. You’re surprised you haven’t chipped a tooth with how hard you’re grinding your teeth together. 

He scoffs, not believing you for a second. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you an expectant stare. You can taste the words forming on your tongue, an irritating urge to just spill your guts overcoming you. Before you can stop yourself you blurt out, “I’m a little surprised that’s all.”

“Oh yeah, ‘bout what?” You hate how amused he sounds, the chuckle just lying in wait under his words. Like your anger is funny to him, like he didn’t just break your stupid fucking heart. 

You stop walking, not feeling as intimidating as you want while you shiver and huddle into yourself. He seems perfectly at ease in his leather jacket and beater, still refusing to wear the uniform. He leans back and looks at you with a fondness that you can’t tell if you love or hate. “You and little Miss Perfect.” You spit the nickname with enough venom to make both of your eyes widen. 

Logan rolls his eyes and takes a step towards you, again, Storm interrupts you both. “Guys, really?” Everyone turns around to stare and you will the heat in your face away. “Not the time,” she scolds and you brush past Logan to catch up with the others. 

You come upon a warehouse, it’s nearly camouflaged under all the snow. You see two guards waiting outside the metal doors and you all disperse behind the trees. Storm glances towards Jean who focuses on the guards. They drop to the floor and you wave your hands, their guns melting into puddles of metal. 

Logan and Scott move forward, sliding the large metal doors open. You wince at the loud screeching as the rust flakes off the sides. There’s a collective quiet as you all hold your breath, waiting for them to give the all-clear. Once they run inside and run back out, you and the others quickly get to your feet and rush into the warehouse. Logan closes the doors again as you make it inside. 

“No one here?” Storm checks. Scott shakes his head and you frown. That doesn’t make any sense. Why would there be guards if there was nothing inside?

Your question is, unfortunately, answered a minute later. You find a pile of metal crates stacked on top of each other. A large beige tarp covers them. You tug at the corner, letting the fabric slide off. Your eyes flutter with disappointment, “Guys! Over here,” mutants sit inside the crates. Each of them stares at you with varying degrees of mistrust and fear. 

As awful as it is, you’ve gotten used to these quiet depressing missions. There aren’t usually many mutants in one place. They don’t like to keep the product in one spot for too long. There are only four kids here. The youngest is eleven and the oldest is seventeen. There’s nothing physically telling about their abilities so you assume it must be psychic powers. 

They don’t want to come with you until you all give them a demonstration of your powers. Proving that you’re not just trapping them and taking them somewhere worse. You’re nearly out the door when Charles's voice rings loudly through all of your minds. 

You wince at the volume, hands coming up to grip at your hair as he shouts, “Behind you!” A gunshot rings out, something hot rips across your wrist and you gasp in pain. There’s a clatter of metal as your cuff drops to the ground, the bullet having destroyed it. Without them both, they’re useless. One won’t work without the other. 

You glance up at Logan, a panicked look on your face. You can already feel the tidal wave of power thrashing and building in your chest. It’s been so long with the safety net that you forgot how bad it gets without the cuffs. 

“We need to get you out of here!” He shouts over the gunfire. He herds the group behind a cluster of metal shipment boxes. It provides enough cover for you all to try and figure out an escape plan. 

You listen to the other’s worried voices, each of them trying to console the kids. You don’t know their powers yet. Don’t know what might go wrong if they get too scared and can’t control their abilities. 

You can’t speak, breaths coming short and fast as you clutch your wrist to your chest. You know it’s delusional, hoping that if you keep a tight grip like the cuff you might be able to control yourself. You can already feel the energy leaking out of you, the ends of everyone’s hair stands on end. The wall in front of you warps and cracks like it can’t decide if it’s liquid or solid. 

You grit your teeth and look only at Storm. “You need to get out,” you force the words out. It causes physical pain to try and keep everything at bay. You can feel pressure building in your forehead, pushing out until you think you might explode. 

“We’re not leaving you,” Logan snaps. There’s shouting going on behind you, a pause as they all reload their guns. 

“Wasn’t a question,” you grit out. You look towards Jean and there’s a moment where you both put aside your differences. You both know how stubborn he is, how much he’ll fight against leaving you behind. Regenerative powers or not, it's dangerous to even be close to your gift now. You can see them all straining against the ebbing flow of your powers. Their skin shifts unnaturally like you’re already altering the atoms of their being. 

This is why you’re only allowed to train with Charles and Jean. They can get in your head, shut it down when you can’t. You’re not sure you’re going to survive yourself. Logan glances between the two of you and practically growls at Jean, “Don’t you fuckin’ dare-”

His words trail off into an unintelligible slur as he slumps forward, Jean having knocked him out with her powers. Scott grabs him and grunts under the weight of his body. “I’ll cover you,” you gasp the words out. Anything but focusing on your powers causes physical strain that makes you feel like you’re being tugged in a hundred different directions. “Just get them out,” you nod towards the kids. 

Storm nods and you slip out of cover. It isn’t hard to push your powers in one direction, to solidify the air in front of you so the bullets ricochet harmlessly off. You listen to the whine of the metal door and wait for the others to be gone. 

“They’re in the jet,” Charles's voice rings out. “Don’t do this,” he warns. You can’t think of a response, you’re not even sure what you would say. You never thought you would be able to approach death this calmly, or that this would be how you die. It feels almost pathetic, dying because you lost control on a recon mission. 

At least those kids are safe. It’s not a bad reason to die. Just not great. You glance down at the other cuff on your right hand, the air around it fluctuates until it melts off your wrist like liquid metal. With the last barely there tether off your powers, you close your eyes and release the tidal wave. 

It feels like a dam exploding. It doesn’t leak fluidly from you, it rips through you like a hailstorm of knives. Tears apart anything in its path and rewrites the molecular build of everything in its path. Screams echo through the air as men’s bones turn into brittle dust and their hearts morph into something inorganic. You’re blind to everything around you, vision clouded by the horrific release of energy. 

You can feel warmth leaking down your face. Blood still pours from the wound on your wrist, and fresh blood from other wounds you can’t even feel. You don’t know when the screams stop, or when you’re finally drained. But you feel like an empty husk as you drop to the floor, your head bouncing harshly against the cement as everything goes black. 

“I’m gonna kill you,” Logan says with a grin, glaring at Scott even though it’s Charles who is holding him back. He’s got a firm mental grasp on Logan, keeping him locked into place while he focuses on the warehouse. 

They’re waiting for the all-clear. The others know there’s always the possibility that they’re going to be collecting a body. But none of them are willing to say that, not with the look on Logan’s face. His muscles look ready to pop out of his skin with how much he’s fighting against Charles’s hold. 

Scott backs away from Logan with a scoff. He stands near Jean, but she can’t take her eyes off the restrained man. Nothing had happened this morning, Flux had seen to that. Interrupting them just as they’d started. Seeing the way he’s acting now, she’s starting to believe that nothing is ever going to happen. 

He’d looked like he was about to dismiss her when she started making a move. She can see the anger on his face, it seems he’s only ever pissed off. But underneath that, as much as he hides it, she can see the fear. He’s terrified that they're going to walk in there and you’re going to be dead. 

Jean can feel the fear of the others as well. They’ve only seen you lose control once and that had almost leveled the mansion. Charles had stopped you then, but the loss of the cuff had been so sudden Jean just barely had enough strength to keep the others blocked from your powers. She didn’t have enough time to shut you down. 

Jean, as much as she’s tried to deny it and dismiss her suspicions, can’t look Logan in the eye and ignore it anymore. It’s never been her that he’s wanted. The way he trails along beside you, always prodding and poking until you’re pissy and mouthing off. It’s not done because he finds antagonizing people fun, it's because he loves seeing you all worked up and passionate. He doesn’t view you through the same platonic lens he does the others. You’re something else to him, something she doesn’t want to name, afraid of the bitter taste it will leave on her tongue. 

Charles slumps back in his chair and Logan suddenly lunges forward. He looks a little surprised by the sudden freedom of movement, but before any of them can stop him he’s running out of the jet. “Logan,” Jean tries to call after him but he’s already a distant blur. 

Scott sighs and starts down the ramp. “Come on,” he mutters. He’s the last one who should be coming along. If anything is wrong with you, he’ll end up being Logan’s punching bag. Jean follows reluctantly, she’s not sure she wants to see what’s happened. 

Your powers are too similar in their volatile nature. The way they rule you and come so close to destroying you when you use them too much, is too familiar to Jean. She doesn’t want to see you lying dead on the floor and be reminded of her own mortality. But someone needs to make sure Logan is stuck on a leash. 

They reach where the warehouse should be. It’s nothing but a pile of rubble now. Throughout the wreckage, Jean can make out odd pools of liquid, some writhing, others still. She can only assume that these had been the men shooting at them. She doesn’t see your body, none of them do. But Logan isn’t giving up. 

He lifts different pieces of metal and tosses them off into the forest. Jean doesn’t sense your presence anywhere but she doesn’t have the heart to tell Logan to give up. After a few minutes of searching, she almost tells him to quit. But she can’t see him anymore. He’s disappeared somewhere behind a particularly large pile of roofing. A moment later, Logan stands up. His jacket is gone, wrapped around the body in his arms. None of them are close enough to see if you’re breathing. And he doesn’t say a word as he brushes past them, just keeps going back to the jet. Ororo, Scott, and Jean all share a silent look. None of them prepared for the potential fallout that’s going to happen after this. 

The first thing you feel is two familiar bands of metal around your wrists. The comforting feeling of the cuffs is enough to have you sinking further into the pillows surrounding you. Then you hear the beeping in your ear, feel the cool blow of AC, and become startlingly aware of the fact that you’re in a bed you don’t recognize. 

You groan, eyes peeling open painfully as your lashes get stuck on your skin. You reach up to rub at your face but your arms feel too weak to lift. You give up on the thought, instead staring up at the ceiling and waiting for your vision to refocus. 

A throat clears in front of you and you nearly jump out of your skin. Sitting at the end of your bed, arms crossed and a fierce glare on his face is Logan. His feet are propped up on the small table beside you. He quirks a brow and gives you a sardonic grin, “Finally awake, princess?”

Normally the name would have you up and doing somersaults, but there’s something distinctly negative and disappointed lacing his tone. It squashes any and all butterflies in your stomach. You grimace as you try and sit up. Logan is up in an instant, an annoyed look still on his face as he helps you up. 

You can’t help your dopey smile at how gentle his hands are on you. Even pissed off, he treats you so kindly. Maybe it’s the drugs relaxing you, or the fact that you almost died, but you can’t remember whatever made you mad at him. You can only feel the slide of his calloused hands against your arms, the way you shiver under his touch and crave more. 

He pulls the chair closer to you with a loud scratch of metal feet on the linoleum. You groan at the loud sound and he huffs, throwing himself down in the seat. “How do you feel?”

Your head sinks back against the wall and you finally realize you’re in the medbay. It’s why everything smells so sterile. “Like I got hit by a semi.”

He barely lets you finish your thought before he spits out, “What the fuck were you thinking?” He doesn’t ease you into this at all and you frown. You’re not sure why you would expect him to ever beat around the bush. That’s not his style, he’s always been blunt. Even when others wish he wouldn’t be. 

“What else was I supposed to do?” You ask, voice weak. Your throat feels like it’s been ripped apart. Idly, you wonder if you had been screaming in the warehouse or if this was just general strain from the whole ordeal. 

“Not put yourself at risk like that.” He leans forward, voice stern and bordering on shouting. You know he’s holding back. As much as he wants to lay into you right now, he’s stopping himself from going completely out of his mind. You appreciate it, but you almost wish he would just yell at you. You wish you had a reason to resent him, to finally get over him. “Not have Jean knock me out like that. You don’t get to make those decisions for me.”

It’s completely inappropriate and horrible timing, but you can’t help but scoff at the mention of Jean’s name. Can you not have one conversation that’s not tainted by the mention of the redhead?

Logan’s mouth snaps shut and he glares at you in disbelief. You squeeze your eyes shut, not willing to face him as embarrassment washes over you. No wonder he always calls you kid. You’re not exactly acting like an adult. You’re being a brat and for such a stupid reason too. 

Just because you like him doesn’t mean he has to reciprocate. You can’t just force your feelings on someone. “Logan,” you whisper his name, “Sorry. I’m sorry-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. Some of the anger, but not all, has ebbed from his expression. He almost looks like he’s smiling. “Jean? That’s what this is about? Jealous or something, sweetheart?”

You sputter, shocked little noises leaving you but no words. After a solid minute of restarting a sentence you don’t know how to end you finally land on a squeaky, “Who?” If you weren’t so mortified, you might have just thrown yourself out the window. Out of every cop-out you could have gone with you chose to just pretend you didn’t know who she was. Maybe you could make this work, like selective amnesia. 

Your shame only builds as Logan laughs. You cover your face and wish you could bury yourself six feet deep and never come up. You feel two rough hands wrap around your wrists, tugging your own away from your face. You don’t have the energy to fight back, so you keep your eyes on his chin. Too afraid to meet his gaze. 

“Come on,” he mutters, gently nudging your chin up until you’re forced to look at him. You're caught off guard by the look in his eyes. You recognize it, but you’d only ever seen it directed at Jean. It’s the same way you’ve always looked at him. Pure unguarded want and desire. 

The hand on your chin drifts back, fingers tangling in your hair and gently resting on your jaw. He tugs you forward until your lips are nearly touching, breaths mingling with every exhale. “Only ever wanted you, darlin'.’”

The kiss catches you off guard. It shouldn’t, deep down you knew it was coming, but the intensity behind it, the way you can practically taste how bad he wants this, wants you, catches you off guard. You lean into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting yourself melt into his hold. 

His free hand drifts to your waist and clutches the flimsy hospital gown until you hear it tear. You part your lips, deepening the kiss so you can finally taste him. It’s cigars and whiskey, something you should hate but is entirely intoxicating when he’s holding you so tightly. Fireworks are going off in your mind, sparks darting between your fingers as the cuffs struggle to contain all the energy suddenly pushing out of you. 

He can feel you holding back, squeezing you like it’s a promise he can take it. Take everything you throw at him. You let go as much as your cuffs will allow you. Let the energy blanket you both so you can’t hear your heart monitor going off like crazy. So you don’t feel anything other than each other. You think you’re going to devour each other like you’ll just keep kissing until neither of you can take it anymore. You don’t want to let go of him, don’t want to lose this moment. 

But you have to breathe. You don’t get to just keep living the way he does. You pull away from him slowly, every part of you dreading separating from him. His forehead drops against your own, his laughter playing along your lips as he finally hears the monitor going haywire. 

You groan, flicking your wrist and shutting it off so it can’t betray how flustered you are anymore. He gently nudges you aside so he can sit beside you on the bed. You don’t waste a second before you’re draping yourself across his chest and siphoning his warmth. He chuckles, arms coming up to wrap around you. 

“Can’t believe you were jealous of Jean.”

“Shut up,” you snipe. You look up at him and glare, “How else do you explain what you two were doing?”

He leans forward and gives you a smug grin. “She came onto me, sweetheart.” Your face screws up in distaste and jealousy. She’s going to need to learn to keep her hands to herself. He seems to feel the way you tense up, he huffs in amusement and rubs your back. “Relax, you’re gonna blow your fuse again.”

You glance down at your wrists and nuzzle further into him. You can’t believe you could have been laying on him this whole time. You never want to use a blanket again, not when you’ve got him. “I’ll be fine now that I’ve got my cuffs.”

His hand stills on your bicep. He squeezes it before his hand drifts up to your chin and he tilts your face up again. “I don’t ever want to see that again.” You’re a little surprised by the sudden shift in tone, but you knew this was coming. 

“I had to, Logan. I either took you all down with me or I went on my own.”

Logan frowns and takes in a deep breath. You place a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiles down at you, “Next time, take me with you. I’m not fucking dealing with Summers without you.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Your face grows warm and your chest expands with some odd gleeful feeling as he laces your fingers together. “Deal,” you whisper, still smiling at him. 

A/N: Okay, this might be shit, I’m not sure. I sort of rushed the ending because as I was writing this I had another idea for him. I guess I’m officially off my hiatus. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[abyssalfaith]

Astro moon obs :)

As I have known many of them, aries moon can be very childish, they kind of have the emotional capcity of a 3 years old. That being said, they are extremely loyal in friendship and love and are a ride or die.

Gemini moon often are multi langual. They are very smart in the learning of langage and new discipline. The fact that their head is in constant turmoil make them able to multitask a lot. Multi tasking is also often a way to avoid their emotion.

Pisces moon can be a big no if the chart is bad aspected. If it is the case, the native can be prone to mental disorder associated to mood swings such as borderline or bipolar trouble (please if you feel like your emotion are too much, see a mental specialist, do not stay alone :) <3 )

taurus moon love langage are often cooking or gifting things to the loved one. Their moon being rules by venus they constantly need to spoil the other one.

Sagittarius moon are feral. Black humour, sex and racist jokes, very judgy but they often do worse than the object of their judgement. As a gemini moon, the opposition feel funny to me because we are very alike, i looooove them lmaooooo

I do not know a lot of aquarius moon, just one, and he is an aquarius stellium. I like him platonically but i am not able to get him, what he is up to, what does he like ? He is a fog for sure... aquarius vibes for sure.

Sorry to the scorpio, libra, virgo and leo moon : I do not know these placement enough to speak about it...

Capricorn moon can be considered stern but often they are the most joyful poeple ever ! I think that it's due to the hardship that often happen to them, they know that life can be harder than what they have, I see these poeple enjoying every little think because they know God can take it any moment.

Cancer moon are often mama's boy (men and women), they need to stay near their family, being helped by them or being a help to them. Family anytime and anywhere, at all cost ! (Can be too much)

12th house moon : daydreamer and escapist, can be prone to be delulu because they live too much in their head. Derealisation can be a problem,

10th house moon : obsessing with work, workalcoolic, delulu about their capacities and their ambitions. YOU NEED TO LET IT GOOOOOOOOOO.

Share your placement :)

Love, Abyssal Faith

[astroboots]

Stitches and Claws

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You find yourself in a compromising position on your knees when you help stitch up Miguel's wounds.

Content: Blowjob, riding cock, overstimulation, fangs and claws. Miguel kind of likes his horniness with a little bit of pain? Just a smidge.

Word Count: 3.3k

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

"Miguel, can you please just relax?"

"I am relaxed," comes the sharp reply, as he glares down at you. Jaw so tense, you're surprised his molar teeth hasn't cracked under the pressure.

Your hand comes to his knee, as you spread them wider, and you can feel the plane of his thighs tense underneath your palm.

Yeah, the man is anything but relaxed.

Miguel is still in his suit. Skin covered in dark blue and red. The only part of him not covered in the fancy spandex (and if he heard you call it that he'd be livid, cause it's Unstable Molecule fabric, not spandex) is that scowling face of his and a small patch on the inside of his left thigh. An area the size of your hand that's bare, revealing his tanned skin underneath and a nasty looking injury.

You poise the needle in your hand against the gaping wound. You don't even get the chance to make skin contact with the tip before he's hissing at you like some damned feral cat.

"I haven't even touched you yet. This is going to hurt a hell of a lot more if you keep fighting me."

You probably sound more than a little bit irritated, because this position isn't exactly comfortable. The hardwood floor is digging into your knees, and with hindsight you should've taken the cushion he'd offered you before.

God, up close, that wound look really bad. Four inches in length, red and angry. You're not a doctor. You don't know why the hell you agreed to do this. For all you know you're going to get the wound infected or worse.

"Miggy, I don't know about this, don't you think it's better go to a hospital. What if it gets infected? You'll end up with gangrene and then we'll have to amputate it and then what?"

"That's not going to happen. It's a tiny cut."

"Fine, but I'm not a medical professional and I'm probably gonna make it scar to shit."

"So it'll scar. It'll be your permanent mark on me."

"I'm worried I'm going to mess this up".

"No", he says, shaking his head. "I trust you."

Your cheeks warm at the words, barely able to look him in the eyes after he's said it.

Fuck, he'd have to go and pull that card didn't he?

With a big sigh and bigger reluctance, you dip your head down as you pierce the needle through the skin, threading it across. There's a muffled pained noise from above. The leather of your armchair squeaks as he grips it tight.

A sympathetic ache tugs in your chest at his pain and your hand still against his thigh. "Do I need to stop?"

"No, keep going," he bites out through gritted teeth.

From the corner of your eyes, you catch a glimpse of the pointed edges of his corner teeth protruding against his bottom lip. It's hard to keep your hands still when your fingertips tingle at the sight of them.

Jesus, you need to get your head out of the gutter. This is hardly the time. You persevere, dipping back down for a better view, so you can sew up the gaping wound as best as you can, ignoring the warmth of his firm thighs that are caging you in at your sides.

You try to pretend you don't hear the strained noises he's making. (Noises that are much too similar to the ones he makes when he's the one between your thighs). Practically bury your head into his thigh so you can no longer see the way his broad chest heaves or how he bites down hard on his lip when you make another stitch.

"Stop, stop!" he demands.

His hand grips down hard on your shoulder, pressing you backwards, but you ignore it, because the needle is already halfway through his skin, and for a man who is constantly battling supervillains on skyscrapers with jetpacks and regularly crashes into skyscrapers, he can be such a baby sometimes.

"Miguel, stop, I need to--"

"Enough!" He growls, his hand pushes more insistently, determined to pry you off him until your ass lands on the hardwood floor behind you.

"Let me do it myself."

Let him? Let him?! As if you had forced him to make you do this? This asshole. Swear to god! He's the one who came home in this state, plonked his dumptruck ass in your chair and asked you to help him. He's the one who sweet-talked you with his: "I trust you," when you had soundly suggested he go to the hospital.

He's always like this. Running hot then cold. Asking you to help, then pushing you away in the next second. It's a miracle you don't have permanent neck injuries with the metaphorical whiplashes he keeps giving you.

You drag your eyes upwards, the way he's hunched on himself in your chair, covering his thigh. His face is turned to the side away from you.

You don't know why he's being so unhelpful about this.

Stitching up your superhero boyfriend with a $10 Amazon sewing kit isn't your idea of a perfect Saturday night. But now that you've started you need to finish up with the stitches, you can't just leave it as it is.

"I'm sorry that I went too rough. If I hurt you, I can go slower, okay?"

He doesn't answer you, just drags one large hand over his face. It's only then that you notice that his ears and bits of his cheeks are flushed a darker shade of red than the tanned tone of his hand.

"That's not the problem I'm having," he mutters.

"Well then, can you tell me what the problem is?"

No answer.

Leaning forward, you place your hand back on his knee. That finally seems to get his attention and he removes his hand.

"You said you trusted me right? So let me know what's wrong so I can take care of you. Please?"

For all his obstinate stubbornness, Miguel is just as susceptible as you are to that card. He groans dramatically, collapsing back into the chair with a defeated expression on his face.

His legs shift in the chair, spreading outwards. The arm draped across his lap falls away, and the tight fit of his supersuit does absolutely nothing to disguise the shape of his cock, hard and heavy under the clinging fabric.

Oh. oh.

Clearly you’re not the only one being affected by the forced proximity of this situation.

"See the problem?" he says.

You look up and his eyes flicker away sheepishly. If you didn't know better, and if it wasn't for the scowl still plastered on his face, you might've mistaken him for being embarrassed. If you didn't know better, you might've made the mistake of calling him cute.

You ache between your thighs at the sight of him. But even though there's nothing more you'd like than leap into his lap and fill that ache with every inch of him, there's other priorities right now.

Crawling forward, you shoulder your way back between his thighs and settle there.

"Let me finish," you insist. "If you let me finish, then I'll help you with your problem."

It's an uneven bargain to say the last. Because the reward you're offering him, is something you want more than your next breath, and you have to bite back the 'ohthankyousweetjesus' on the tip of your tongue, when he gives you a small nod to seal the deal.

Maybe it's your newfound incentive, but this time as you pinch the needle between your fingers to stitch him up, it's a swift and efficient ordeal. You refuse to allow yourself to get distracted, eyes focused on your goal, even as you hear him groan above or shift underneath you. Not until the last stitch is done.

When you finally let yourself tilt your head back up. His eyes are pinned on your face, and you can see now that the familiar brown shade replaced by a red tinge.

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth, and you try to keep your eyes fixed on his, holding the contact as you lean forward. Anticipation rides heavy on your spine, as your mouth inches forward, until your lip press against the thin fabric of his crotch, and you nuzzle against the rigid shape of him.

The leather of your chair creaks, and there's a rip. From this angle your view is a bit obscured, but you catch sight of his hands, the firm unforgiving grip he has on your poor armchair. The extended sharp talons piercing through the soft leather in his excitement.

All you hear from above, is a breathy, "Fuck", then the thin fabric separating him from your mouth disintegrates, the dark blue fabric making way for his tanned skin underneath.

Then he's right there. Bare and naked for you to touch. His cock jutting upright between his thighs. He's ruddy and flushed, the fat tip of him glistening with precome that wells from the slit that you can practically already taste on the tip of your tongue.

Your mouth salivates as you part your lips to take him.

To call Miguel thick is an understatement. It's a struggle to fit him in your mouth, your jaw strain with the effort as you slide him further down. As deep as you can, until the blunt tip nudges against the back of your throat and you have to swallow around him in a panicked fit to suppress the reflexive gag pushing back in you.

It's always the hardest the first time. Your mind and throat instinctively fighting you, as you try to swallow down the intimidating girth of him.

"Take it slow nena," Miguel rasps from somewhere above. His voice is a slow and melted hum that drips sweet and honeyed in your veins, and that helps.

You take a deep inhale from your nose, taking in the familiar musky scent of him, and feel your throat relax around him, accommodating to his thickness.

Your thighs ache with arousal. Panties wet and slick as you clench down around nothing. Everything is tightly wound inside you. Your stomach heavy with the dizzying heat as the weight of him rests so fucking perfectly on your tongue.

It's all you can take. You shove your fumbling fingers between your thighs, tugging at the edge of your panties until the obscene wetness greets you and drag it up against your clit.

Relief and pleasure surges through your head, filling your veins with the sensation and you rock into the palm of your hand seeking for more of your own touch.

"Are you touching yourself?"

Your fingers still at the question. You're not exactly embarrassed, it's not like you're doing anything wrong, but you feel sheepish all the same at being caught.

You pull off his cock, letting it slide between your lips and when you finally look back up, he's staring down at you with a dark hunger in those otherworldly crimson eyes like he wants to eat you whole.

"Fuck, come up here," he directs, but you ignore him. Tongue lapping at the tip, savouring the heady taste of him as you run the flatness of your tongue down the length of him.

"Nena," he bites off impatiently. "Up!"

He doesn't wait for your reply this time. So fucking impatient this man.

He's already lunging forward, arms circling your torso as he pulls you up and into his lap with an impressive ease. His arm comes to your thighs, rearranging you to his liking in his lap, one large hand gripping his cock as he positions you above.

"Sit on my cock, nena. Ride me."

Your eyes flit to the poorly stitched up wound on his thigh that looks flimsy to say the least.

"Won't that hurt you?"

His head tilts, brow arching with that sardonic expression of his as if he doesn't see what the problem is. "And?"

This is such a bad idea. But you'd be lying to yourself if you said you wanted to stop now. Instead you settle on a compromise to ensure that you can at least limit the potential damage on him.

"You have to stay still for me, or you'll tear the stitches," you warn.

He nods perfunctorily in agreement and you don't think he's even listening to you. No surprise there, Miguel has never been the best at listening to yours (or anyone's) instructions. He'll do what he wants as he sees fit.

But you can't find it in you to stop. Not when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and the velvety smoothness of it twitch in your grip. Not when you notch the tip of his cock to your slick entrance and can feel yourself dripping down his length.

The only thing you care about is to have him inside you.

You lower yourself onto him, sliding down, inch by maddening inch, as that thickness stretches you to your limits and white hot pleasure invades every one of your cells until you feel drunk on the sensation.

"That's it," he encourages, with a sharp inhale, hand gripping to the sides of your hips. The honed edge of his talons gripping into your flesh, but never breaking the skin.

Your thighs are shaking as you inch down on him until they are pressed flush to his hips, and his cock is kissing that perfect spot deep inside you that has your vision whiten. Thick and sweet.

As promised, he doesn't move. Even though you can tell from the muscle twitching in his jaw, that there's nothing more he wants than to flip you over and thrust into you hard and deep until you're screaming his name with a force that makes your lungs burn out.

You lift your hips, savoring the sweet drag of his cock against your cunt, slow and unhurried until only the blunt tip of him rests inside you and stay there.

"Nena," Miguel says, and the nickname on his tongue sounds like a warning.

He's not a fan of the slow pace you're giving him apparently.

But you've never been one to heed his warnings. Instead you slide down on him, just as slowly, letting his cock fill you at a leisurely pace and it is fucking heaven.

You still as he bottoms up inside you, before you do it all over again. And again. Then again. To each grumpy groan of his that's mixed with pleasure and impatience. Then you do it again.

It's only a matter of time before his short-spanned patience snap. You can practically see it in the furrowed line of his thick brows, as you raise yourself up on his knees. His sharp canines bites down on his bottom lip, breaking the skin and that is all the warning you get before his arms wraps tight around your ribs, knocking the very breath out of your lungs.

Miguel's arms pushes you down flush on his cock, it's strong and demanding. A stubborn grip until he makes sure you've taken all of him to the root. It's blinding you with the force of it, and all you can do as he buries his face, sharp teeth poised at your shoulders, is whine.

Good, it feels so fucking good. The sweet ache of his cock filling every inch of you. You can't think anymore.

You try to raise yourself again on his cock but you wobble, the muscles in your thighs screaming in protest and gives under, unable to lift yourself back up again.

Fuck, you don't know if you can move anymore.

In a split of a second, Miguel straightens up and pulls you into his chest. "So pretty, nena," he groans into your skin, while he ruts up and into you, fucking his cock deeper.

You should probably scold him. Try to stop him somehow, so that he doesn't rip the tenuous stitches on his wound. But you can't bring yourself to open your mouth. Not when it feels this good. Not when aching pleasure is pulling you down under and robbing you of your breath and every word in your vocabulary.

"You feel so fucking good. Stretched so tight around me. Just so fucking pretty when you take my cock."

The sharp edge of his fangs skirts gently across the soft flesh of your throat, and sets every nerve in you alight. Every part of you tingles. From the tip of your fingers to the curl of your toes. That telltale warmth and heat coiling in your stomach and spreads outwards ratcheting up to a fever pitch.

Your orgasm breaks. It rushes over you, hard and punishing. Your body shakes, thighs tensing and your heart is beating hard and fast into a gallop in your chest. You shake and tremble in his lap as it courses through your veins. Lungs squeezed painfully tight as the sweet bliss of it invades your ribs and you struggle to catch your breath.

You still feel it, rushing and pulsing from your stomach down your thighs, it doesn't even have a moment to properly subside.

Miguel doesn't stop. His hands are already on your waist, lifting you up and almost off his still hard cock and you gasp at the shift in pressure inside you. You're clenching down around the fat tip of him reflexively, and there's no time to adjust, no time to think, next thing you know, he lifts his hips while pushing you down on the length of his cock. All in one swift, and harsh, unforgiving motion.

It's so much, too much. You whimper at the next thrust, the whole of your body wracked in shivers as the sensation overfloods your brain. As good as if it feels, you don't know if you can't take much more.

"Keep going, don't stop. I know it's hard nena. I know you're sensitive." he coos, his hands are gentle on your hips, guiding your movements, but for all his sweet cajoling words, and for all that you're struggling he's not easing up.

"Keep going. Keep squeezing my cock like that and I'll fill you up. I'll fill you up with every drop of me."

He keeps encouraging you, as if you have any other choice but to take his demanding thrusts. As if there is anywhere for you to go with how firmly he's holding you to him.

Fuck you can't, you can't-- oh fuck, you're--

Your arms scramble to grab onto something, anything, fingers digging deep into the firm muscles underneath.

It's chaos.

He thrusts up again. Deep and demanding and your brain shortcircuits.

Sharp electricity surges through your spine and it is blinding. All you can do is hold on to him, to claw on and hold for dear life, or you're pretty sure you're gonna fall off the edge of the earth into oblivion if you lose your grip.

Distantly, you hear him hiss in your ear, feel his hips stutter up against yours, cock pulsing inside of you, but you're too far gone to piece it all together.

All you know is that you're coming again or maybe you never stopped and this is that first orgasm still wreaking havoc on your body. Maybe it'll never stop. The sensation feels like a punch to your gut, consuming and all at once. Your eyes must cross behind your head, because your vision goes dark and blank, wiped clean of thoughts. The room seems to tilt, and crash then disappear. There's no weight to your limbs, and your thighs are so numb, you're not even sure they are there anymore. Your body is not your own.

When you come to, you're still perched on his lap. You feel like wrung out and boneless, body spent and broken. His arms wrapped around your torso the only thing that's keeping you upright.

The arms of your leather chair have been scratched up to hell. Long claw marks brandishing each side.

He looks like an absolute mess. Brown curl a deranged mop on the top of his head, sheen of sweat over his tanned skin. But he looks good, messy. Looks fucking beautiful in a way that has your chest squeeze tight when you gaze at him.

Miraculously, the stitches on his thigh has held up somehow and you feel more than a little ounce of pride of your own sewing skills at the feat.

Your hands slide off of him from where they're still gripping on tight onto him and Miguel's eyes follow the motion to his biceps where your nails have broken through skin. The tiny crescent marks looks red and raw and painful.

"Shit, Miggy I'm sorry."

He blinks up at you, eyes a little bit dazed before he breaks out into a smile. He raises his arm and looks at the mark with a pleased and admiring expression one filled with pride.

"I hope it leaves a scar," he says.

Dedication & Credits:

For @thirstworldproblemss who had to listen to me figure this one out, I'm still trying to find my voice for Miguel so sorry if this is a bit clunky for you.

Also dedicated to @guruan whose artwork literally inspires me to write/think/breathe smut 24-7 like a 7-eleven store. It's always open for slut business here. This artpiece with the spread thighs definitely inspired this oneshot.

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[hellsslibrary]

Hellooooo!! i just saw your post asking for requests and stuff, so uh

here i aaaaam :3

i was wondering if you can do sub! lucifer or barbatos :p

you can do like literally whatever but i am STARVED for sub composed men that eventually are not-so-composed (i wanna see grown men cry)

"Shh... Don't think that water will save us from others."

#a.n. : I'M SO FERAL ABOUT THIS ONE SHOWER CARD OMG.... So shower sex with Luci where you drive him crazy lol.

!!Warnings: Top!Dom!Male!Reader, Sub!Bottom!Lucifer, fingering, finger sucking, shower sex obviously, praise, teasing, a little crying, overstimulation (this is not mentioned but implied), no penetration, Reader is MC, this all take place after the events of the card with skateboards, open final.

The sound of groans and slight squelching sounds was heard in the bathroom. But everything is easily hidden from others outside this room by the sounds of water and a spell cast on the walls.

Your fingers have been moving inside Lucifer for God knows how long, and you made no attempt to stop. Not that Lucifer minded; the stamina of demons is much higher than that of humans, but damn, this was getting too good.

How many times did he cum? He doesn’t remember anymore, and you didn’t count either. Just the fact that you finally managed to convince him to take a break after he worked so wonderfully on creating the best skateboard is already a miracle. But Lucifer himself understood that he deserved it... And how could he disagree when you were so sensitive to making sure he took breaks while working earlier?

"M-MC...Are you ever going to stop?" He asks, still being able to somehow spit out a complete sentence without almost stumbling over the letters.

"Mmm... No, I guess. You're not even at your limit yet, why should I stop?" A rhetorical question comes from your lips, which makes Lucifer’s legs tremble with excitement.

He is clearly not at the limit of his strength, far from it. But you will spend a very long time here if you want to bring him to this line, which is what you actually wanted. You just wanted him to break, in the nicest sense of the word.

Your fingers slid so perfectly inside his already soaking wet walls, each time pressing on a tiny spot that made him moan with pleasure. His dick was constantly rubbing against the shower wall, smearing his cum from several orgasms all over the wall. Lucifer’s palms lay lazily on the wall, and he rested his forehead on them to hide his red little face, which of course you didn’t want, but you didn’t really mind.

"Are you already brought to a complete state of bliss, if you understand what I'm hinting at, Luci?" The only answer to your question was a shake of the head.

But little did you know that it was a lie.

Lucifer felt like he was ready to dissolve, turn into a puddle from the movement of your fingers in him. He felt his entire being being torn apart in the most pleasant sense of the word. He felt like his whole brain was ceasing to function, because he had not been aware of it for a long time.

He's not even sure he can control his own body. A rare moment of vulnerability for him.

Lucifer realizes that his mask will soon crack. It will break like a crack in glass that will break it sooner or later. His self-control will burst.

Or rather, it has already done it.

“Are you crying, precious? Very good, relax, no one will hurt you here...” You whisper when you see tears running down the part of his downward-leaning face that you can see.

He groans when he realizes your fingers are playing with his tongue, making him whine. Such a humiliating sound for him, the Avatar of Pride himself. He shouldn't make sounds like that, but honestly? Fuck it all.

His head leans back, resting on your shoulder. His back collides with your torso. His hips try to match the movement and rhythm of your fingers, moving with them. And his mouth sucks your fingers, as if his life depended on it... Although he will obviously remember this for a long time later.

“Come on, let go,” You whisper in his ear, kissing his cheek, feeling the salty taste of his tears and looking down, slightly surprised that he came at that very second, but absolutely satisfied.

Lucifer hums around your fingers in mock displeasure when you don't slow down your movements even for a moment. He understands that he will regret this.

But it feels so fucking good.

“MC... You... will break me...” He whispers, muffled by your fingers, barely able to form a simple sentence as he feels your fingers deliberately aiming specifically for his prostate.

“Hush, baby,” You coo, he wants to drown in your voice, he realizes that he can’t even hear the sound of water. "Just relax, I won't eat you, you're so fucking good."

He nods. The movement is convulsive, clearly not smooth, and so unusual for Lucifer. You just smirk at this, kissing his neck, making him whimper, wiping away his tears.

After all... Maybe he won't regret this experience as much as he thought.

[sleepinthrumyalarms]

— a study in demon

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!oni!reader

warnings: smut, lesbian sex, a/b/o dynamics in werewolves and demons, penetration, G!P!reader, it's demon girlcock OKAY, cockwarming, breeding kink, size kink, knotting, all characters are aged-up

summary: an unfortunate turn of events leaves wednesday with a very frustrated, very needy oni demon on her hands. what kind of girlfriend would she be if she didn't take care of her beloved?

word count: 4.5k

a/n: jesus christ, look at those warnings. this fic is a whole declaration of war. i went feral. i have nothing to say for myself. hope you enjoy

The first thing you feel when the annoying buzzing of the alarm pulls you out of your peaceful slumber is the immense heat of your body and the ache somewhere in your lower belly. A groan leaves your throat before you can even blink your eyes fully open, and you blindly reach for your phone to turn the screaming noise off.

You sit up on your bed and squint at the sunlight that streams through the tiny slit in the tightly shut curtains, opening a small calendar app that’s designed specifically for the creatures of your kind – and with a huff you realize your rut is coming in two days.

Damn it. You’ve completely forgotten about it. That certainly explains the aggressiveness and mood swings you’ve been having for the past week.

You open a new text message, sent from your girlfriend at 5:30 AM – not exactly an early riser, but definitely the type to pull an all-nighter on a school night – wishing you the most dreadful morning. You smile to yourself, and the smallest thought of her seems to be enough to motivate you to get out of bed and start the day despite the uncomfortable feeling stirring in your belly.

Thank all the gods almighty – Larissa Weems, especially – that it is still a non-uniform week at the Academy. Sitting in class with that tie wrapped around your throat like a noose would’ve killed you.

You rummage through your wardrobe, pulling out a tee and a pair of jeans, changing hastily, before your gaze falls on a particular item of clothing that definitely doesn’t belong in your closet.

It’s a black baggy zip hoodie, the one Wednesday constantly wears when out of class. It’s a surprise she has forgotten it at your place – your best guess is she must’ve left in one of your sweatshirts instead.

The fabric feels smooth in your grasp. Warm fleece lining. A bit abrasive on the outside.

Just like her.

You lift the hoodie to your face, burying your nose in the softness and inhaling.

Smells just like her, too.

Without a second thought you put it over your frame – though a bit more of a tight fit, it’s still slightly baggy on your shoulders – and zip it up, pulling the hood over your head to take another small whiff of the familiar scent.

That should get you through the day, you think.

And it does. For the first half of it, at least.

You take an extra suppressant pill during lunch, but skip the meal, opting to spend the free time in the quad to ventilate your head.

It feels better. Much, much better. Even though you don’t get to see Wednesday at the canteen.

You’re back inside for your last period – maths, and your mind gets too busy with the complicated equations and formulas to worry about the hormones running wild in your body.

You’re half-way through a very fucked-up problem with roots and sines before a strong aroma suddenly fills up your lungs – an omega’s pheromones, you realize, wide-eyed.

An omega who is in heat.

You lift your head up, giving the students around you a quick once-over – and your gaze meets a pair of golden orbs, a pretty girl with pink plump lips and fiery-red hair tied into a pony tail watches you with interest, her chin propped on her palm. As soon as you make eye-contact, she gives you a smile, revealing a small, adorable gap in the front row of her teeth.

You shake your head and smile back politely before turning back to your paper, but the rest of the class feels like you’re trapped in a suffocating cage of hot arousal that smells of yellow fruit and washed laundry.

As soon as the bell dismisses the students, you hastily pack your bag and bolt out of the door, desperate to lock yourself in your dorm room and just take care of this stupid predicament you’ve found yourself in. You’ve never been more grateful for the lack of a roommate.

“Hey, (Y/n).”

You stop and turn at the sound of your name being called, although the voice is quite unfamiliar – too melodic and gentle to be anyone you know.

“Hey, uh...”

It’s the redhead from maths. She watches you expectantly for a few moments before her face falls slightly, “It’s Dina! I was with the Black Cats last year. We met at the after party? The one Yoko hosted?” She sounds almost offended at the fact that you don’t remember her.

“Oh. Oh, right. Dina. Sorry. I’m really bad with names.” You smile apologetically.

“It’s fine. I’d be surprised if you remembered me, actually. This academy holds way too many ginger werewolves,” Dina chuckles, and falls in step with you to continue walking down the hall. “So, you up to anything right now?”

“No, not really. Just hoping to get back to the dorms and sleep my awful headache off. Been bugging me all day.”

It’s only a half-lie – your temples are still throbbing like crazy, and the pheromones you’ve smelled in class did nothing to help your case.

The werewolf tilts her head, pursing her plump lips, “Hmm... That’s too bad, because, actually...”

The smaller girl suddenly grabs your hips and pushes you – unprepared, you stumble to the side and right through the door of some random classroom. Barely able to catch your balance at Dina’s abrupt movement, your hands grasp at her forearms, desperately trying to steady the rest of your body.

“I was thinking I could help you relieve that pain of yours.”

She looks up at you, tilts her chin up slightly. The smell of citron and fresh linen suddenly fills your nose.

The same one you’ve felt in class.

The omega in heat.

Fuck.

The werewolf in front of you settles with pumping her pheromones at you wildly, her palms flitting from your hips down to your thighs, slowly closing in on your center – you do nothing to stop her, your own hands reaching behind you to grip the edge of the desk. Her eyes are glinting red now, slitted pupils never breaking eye contact with yours.

She presses her nose against your scent gland, and you feel her grin against your neck.

“I don’t smell an omega on you...” Shit. Of course Wednesday’s hoodie doesn’t smell like anything but her usual dark resins and woods scent. As much as it is alluring and recognizable to you, it’s not pheromones. “You haven’t mated with one yet? That’s just criminal... An alpha like you should spend all her ruts with a pretty omega impaled on her cock.”

You take a sharp inhale through your nose, feeling yourself throb treacherously at her words. Dina giggles softly, pressing her lips to your jaw, her mouth now inches away from yours.

“You know…” she starts sultry, voice heavy with unadulterated lust in a way that only an omega’s can sound to the ears of a rutting alpha, “I’ve never taken an oni’s knot before…”

You feel the werewolf squeeze your thighs, bare her claws in a sharp movement, “I wonder what it feels like.”

Your head is heavy, cloudy – you’re practically unable to resist, tusked mouth hanging open with small puffs of vapors fluttering out. The urge to bend the small werewolf over the desk and pound her into the wood feels even harder to resist, too.

An unpleasant feeling rattles through your chest, unbearable and disgusting. An image of dark-brown eyes and soft lips painted burgundy flashes through your mind.

You feel like you’re going to puke.

“No,” you rasp, pushing the werewolf away. “Get off me.”

Before the startled girl can retort, you stumble out of the classroom and slam the door closed, turning the key that has been left in the keyhole by some clumsy substitute.

You stumble for a moment, lifting a clawed palm to grasp at your head that has suddenly turned cloudy and heavy, and make your way towards the ladies’ restroom.

She must’ve felt the rut closing on you, and her own heat triggered it prematurely.

With shaky hands you pull out your phone, opening the messages app and texting the first person that comes to your clouded mind.

enid

bro you gotta ditch

it’s an emergency

i just stumbled into a girl

uhh dina?

she’s from ophelia hall

anyways i think she needs… help

yk

from a fellow omega wolf

i think she hasn’t been taking her suppressants

for some fucking reason

and yk it’s not like me to live a lady in distress

but i really had to dip

i was doing her a favor by dipping actually

i locked her up on the 2nd floor

202

i really had to leave

Pressing your back against one of the bathroom stalls, you wait anxiously as three gray dots dance on the screen.

The device dingles in your hands.

oooohh

its okay

i gotchu

u should totes find weds tho

im sure she can help u out ;))

You hide your phone in your pocket and open the tap to splash your face with cold water. It eases the flush of your face, but doesn’t calm the raging beast inside.

Your fingers grasp onto the edges of the sink tightly, almost making the marble crack.

As you walk through the corridors and up the stairs of Ophelia Hall, the only thought that occupies your mind is Wednesday. Wednesday and her dark eyes and her lips and her touch and the beautiful curve of her slender hips and everything that is your mate.

You don’t bother knocking, urgently swinging the door open.

And there it is. Your (f/c) sweater, no doubt one of her monochrome striped shirts under it.

Your palms are sweating. Claws digging into your pant legs, tusks into your lip.

The small ravenette turns in her seat to look at you, her fingers stilling over the keys of her typewriter.

Her braided hair looks pristine and untouched, her posture unmatched, the image perfect even when out of public sight.

“Ma bête,” she addresses softly, brows slightly raised in question. “You’re back. And you look… a trifle uncomfortable.”

Does she not know? There’s no way she doesn’t. Such details could never slip Wednesday’s unhealthily constantly alerted mind.

“Is something wrong?”

Fuck. Of course. There it is, that cruel glint in her eyes. You should’ve known.

She wants you to say it.

You shift on your feet. The temperature is becoming almost unbearable.

“I’m…”

Wednesday watches you, tilts her head just a tiny bit forward — dark, haunted eyes deadpan, staring you down, her jaw tightening slightly and relaxing in a way that is barely noticeable but has your gaze flicking down to the enticing slant of her neck.

“I’m… in a rut.” You admit, finally.

Wednesday’s eyes widen slightly — her posture straightens even more, the glint in her eyes turning dangerous, “Oh.” Yes, oh, as if she wasn’t aware. “Why are the suppressants not working?”

Should you admit that the small encounter with the horny omega has sent your hormones spiraling?

Wednesday is by no means a normal human, yet her nose lacks the capability of sensing alpha pheromones. Nevertheless, she can read you like a book, and she probably was aware of your coming rut long before you were. She simply likes abusing the knowledge.

“It must be bad then, if it has you reduced to such a pathetic state,” the goth tuts, drumming her fingers against her desk. “Pure torture, isn’t it, bête? I wish I could help you…”

Wednesday turns back to her paper, shrugging noncommittally, “Unfortunately, it is my writing hour, and you know how much I would detest an intervention in my schedule.”

You whine as the drumming of her keys resumes – like a kicked puppy, you turn to reach for the doorknob, prepared to return back to the restroom and take care of yourself to the thought of your ever-so beautiful and unyielding girlfriend.

Wednesday’s fingers still on the typewriter.

“But I suppose… We can reach a consensus.”

The legs of her chair scrape against the hardwood floor, and you turn to find Wednesday standing next to the desk, palm resting on the back of the seat invitingly.

“Come here.”

You’re beside Wednesday before the whole command can escape her mouth, and she gives a small, amused huff that almost has you howling and gnawing at furniture, then gestures at the chair, “Sit. Unbutton your pants, underwear off.”

You reach to do as told, pulling at a pant-leg to finally discard the constricting garment before the ravenette slaps your hand, “Just the button and the zipper, (Y/n). Do not make me repeat myself.”

You gulp and take a seat at her desk, tugging the elastic of your boxers down to free the hard shaft.

The dark, intense gaze Wednesday is watching you with makes you blush and throb, excitement and arousal mixing with the slightest of embarrassments only her presence can induce.

“Good girl,” she hums, circling the chair like a hunting lioness. “I will allow you to be inside me, just this once. I will not allow you to touch me in any other way. If I feel any movement, internal or external, you will be punished. And by no means are you allowed to cum. Not without my permission. Are the instructions clear, beast? Nod your empty little head if affirmative.”

You nod with a small whimper at the derogatory words, though they do nothing to soothe the aching hardness between your legs.

“Good, good. Well, since the terms are settled, I shall get started.”

Before you can respond, Wednesday steps closer to the desk, slightly flipping her skirt with a quick movement of her hand and letting you catch the smallest of glimpses of her pretty pussy – the show is over before you can marvel though, and the seer sits on your lap, your length pressing against her lower back.

Like this, with no distance left between you, her scent is encompassing your whole being. No pheromones can compare to the way Wednesday smells, the rich, woodsy notes of a forest soaked in rainwater luring you in as you take a small inhale.

You bite back a growl, but a small noise of frustration still manages to reach the ravenette’s sharp hearing.

“Quiet, beast.” She scolds, her tone of voice far from playful, and reaches to straighten her skirt carefully, flicking the non-existing dust off the garment in a graceful movement of her palm.

Then, before you can downright keen with impatience, the same hand moves behind to wrap around your hard member, giving it a squeeze so light it is almost torturous –  Wednesday lifts her hips and presses the head against the warmth of her entrance.

That first contact feels like electricity and fire in your belly, worsened when you feel your cock split her lips open, stretching her taut around it, and the smallest worry that you might just not fit passes through your rut-clouded mind.

Then again, Wednesday might not even be merciful enough to sheathe you fully inside her, but the thought of being too big to be properly seated in her cunt is tantalizing and excruciating at the same time.

A small, relieved sigh escapes Wednesday’s lips –  the sensation of being filled up with you is like no other, and she can’t help but relish in it despite her aggravation. She takes her time, feeling every inch push deeper inside her and stretch her out, the thick shaft splitting her open, then her thighs press into yours and she stills completely.

If she had to, the goth would put all the time and work in to stretch herself out with your girth, to take all of you inside her like she was molded just for that single purpose. It’s not like Wednesday has something to prove to anyone – or maybe she has, to you, that no one else at Nevermore could take you so well and make all your resolve, might and dominance provided to you by nature, or by gods, or by whatever entity has created such a delectable beast as you crumble under her and make it natural for you to submit to the seer.

And oh does submissiveness look good on you, too – or at least it sounds good, if your heavy breathing mixed with quiet whines hitting her ear is anything to go by.

Wednesday is reminded of her goal suddenly when she feels your hips buck instinctually into her, and the ravenette has to hold back a sound of pleasure at the movement, because she can’t fight how incredible the pressure feels, making her velvet walls flutter. She’s still holding the reins when she tightens her pussy around your throbbing dick purposefully, a trace of a small smirk on her plush burgundy lips at the needy and wanton groan that escapes your mouth.

That was a good enough treat, she thinks. Now to the sticks.

Wednesday kicks you in the shin with the side of her loafer, pulling you out of your pleasure-induced trance and making you flinch.

“Move closer to the desk, beast. I need to be able to reach the keys in order to type.”

You grunt, shuffling the chair closer with your weight, nudging Wednesday’s body forward, and the slightest shift makes you hiss — she slides a few inches up your shaft before she’s at the base again, seated nice and snug, her thighs resting on yours. Your hands fall to grapple at them, and you receive another painful kick.

“No. Hands off. If you are unable to control yourself, I will shun you out.” Wednesday scolds, though has to hide the effect the feeling of your claws curling around her have, and fails. Her voice sounds more breathless than she has intended.

She has a hard time admitting to herself how torturous this is for her, too. The seer sneaks a glance down to where the thick shaft splits her open, so tight she can practically feel it throbbing against her clit. A small bead of precum runs down, skirting one of the throbbing veins.

Wednesday’s restraint is laudable.

“Messy creature,” she murmurs, her tone surprisingly soft, before the paper in front of her takes over her attention again. Straightening her back, the ravenette goes back to her writing as if she’s not full of demon cock right now.

You try to focus on the rapid clatter of the keys, on the way Wednesday’s elegant fingers dance over the typewriter, maybe try and catch a glance of the words the girl is printing on the paper. Anything to pull your mind away from the tight warmth hugging your aching cock, from weight of the small body pressed against you.

The demon inside of you is raging, howling, salivating between huge tusks. The monster is not as prejudiced as the fellow oni of your clan are – it doesn’t care if it’s another demon or a human you’re nestled inside. It demands the frail body pressed against your own is filled up and bred, demands the goth takes all of you, stretching around your swollen knot before it's barely able to slip inside.

Not just any body. Or some omega. Wednesday. Wednesday who isn’t even a part of that animalistic system, but the beast begs for more, wants all of her more, more with each passing second.

A growl mixed with a whimper escapes your mouth – you have no idea what to do with your hands, so you press them into the edge of the table on either side of Wednesday’s typewriter, claws digging into the dark wood. The involuntarily display of strength has the small female tightening around you with a gentle hitch of her breath, making you groan.

“Wednesday,” you rasp through clenched teeth. “I can’t. Please. I’m losing control.”

“O-oh, are you?” The goth inquires mockingly, hoping you don’t take notice of her slight stutter.

“Mhm,” you nod dumbly. “Wanna take you so bad. Wanna fuck you full of me.”

Wednesday can’t fight the way her pussy constricts around you again, though the determination not to lose control remains, strong as ever. She abandons the keys to reach a hand into your hair, grabbing a fistful of (h/c) locks to pull and make you meet her gaze, “Whose is it, (Y/n)?”

You furrow your brows in confusion, making Wednesday’s frown deepen – a hint for the right answer comes in the form of the seer’s hips lifting and rocking back down, the friction making you hiss.

“Answer me.”

“Yours.” You swallow. “Yours, Wednesday. Every- every inch is.”

“Good. Good girl.” She coos, easing her hold on you to rake her short nails down the back of your neck, making goosebumps litter your body. “Bed, beast. Now.”

A low growl rumbling in your chest and vibrating against her back is the only warning Wednesday gets before she’s lifted into the air sharply.

In a rough, barely controlled movement you stand up so fast you topple the chair over, flipping the girl with ease and walking a couple of steps to press her against the bed, the ravenette’s cunt still snug around your shaft. A clawed hand reaches for a pillow hastily to cushion Wednesday’s head, the last resemblance of caring gentleness in your actions before you pull out to the tip and buck back inside.

Wednesday’s head snaps back, mouth falling open in pleasure as you pin her down into the mattress, fucking hard into the welcoming, tight warmth of her pussy. Despite the dynamics of oni demons still being fairly alien to Wednesday – not as alien apparently, as she knows the frequency and signs of your rut better than you do and isn’t opposed to using it against you – she now seems to understand the appeal of being absolutely destroyed by an alpha that omegas in heat are so partial to.

As delectable as the thought is, it rekindles the spark of possessiveness that she thought has almost been extinguished. The goth wraps her arms around your shoulders, pulling your bodies flush together.

Hers. No one else’s.

Not some other depraved omega girl’s so desperate to get a taste of you.

“You foolish brute.” She pants as if it’s your fault you seem to be irresistible to other women, voice trembling slightly, her breath completely pushed out of her lungs with each of your thrusts. “You better make good on your promise and breed me like a good alpha should.”

The monster inside you roars at the proposition that is so obviously supposed to be taunting. Your palms slide down the girl’s waist, thumbs brushing against the protruding hipbones to dip into the supple flesh sitting low under her navel, holding her tightly, almost hard enough to bruise and match the brutal pace of your hips rutting into Wednesday, your cock splitting her open deliciously in a toe-curling sensation that has Wednesday’s head falling back against the dark pillows.

The sight under you has you growling savagely – your tongue lolls out to lick a thick stripe up the exposed skin of the ravenette’s neck before you bite down, huge tusks clasping around her throat and keeping Wednesday in place completely, her pulse wild against the rough surface of your muscle. Her pussy constricts around your cock, clamping down hard in an attempt to keep the thick shaft buried to the hilt every time you pull out and quivering when you slam back inside and fill her up enough for the tip to kiss the entrance of her womb, never letting the small female catch her breath.

The lustful fog of ardent fervor clouding Wednesday’s brain doesn’t numb her to the sensation of a swelling at the base of your shaft nudging against her opening every time your hips meet hers. It threatens to push in, catches deliciously on Wednesday’s clit with each thrust and she can feel herself getting painfully close.

But she will not. For the sake of the one thing she wants more than anything else, the goth will deprive herself.

“Knot me.” She rasps into your ear, her feet pushing into your lower back to urge you deeper inside. “Mia bestia, mia alfa. Dentro. Ven dentro di mi.”

You’d have no clue what she has just said on a normal day, and you have zero idea right now, buried eight inches deep inside of her, but the breathless, desperate pants of Italian have you turning feral. In one last brutal thrust the knot slips past Wednesday’s tight lips and inside, stretching and filling her so thoroughly and impossibly delicious it has her eyes rolling into the back of her head. A spill of wetness from her own release rushing forth as she clamps down on your cock lubes her aching walls, helping the bulging slide in firmly.

Your lips gravitate to hers, pulled to her like a magnet, and you growl into her mouth as your cum spills hotly, taking up any remaining space inside the small female and her walls ripple, begging for more. Wednesday's arms tighten around your shoulders and legs squeeze around your hips to keep you close.

You throb with sated completion, press lazy kisses to the seer’s brow and flushed cheeks, and watch as her eyes flutter open to meet yours, her chest heavy with steamy breaths.

“Too hot, huh?” You ask, jaw slack slightly.

Wednesday gives a weak nod, and you reach to tug the sweater off her shoulders, then unzip her skirt to slip it down her pale legs, leaving the girl in just her striped shirt. The newly exposed skin provides better contact for you to revel in – you purr in satisfaction and move to join the seer on the bed, careful not to crush her, and maneuver her small body in your palms to pull her on top of you.

Wednesday huffs but doesn’t resist, nudging at your neck with her nose and pressing a soft kiss to your jugular in an uncharacteristic display of affection.

“How did you find out?” You murmur, lifting your hands to start undoing one of the ravenette’s loosened braids leisurely.

“I have my ways.”

You hum at the vague reply, now certain that the disembodied hand following you around the whole day wasn’t just your imagination playing tricks, “I hope you know I had no intention to lie to you or anything. You just- you didn’t exactly give me a chance to speak.”

“Your explanation wasn’t necessary. I’m well aware of what happened.” The movement of the seer’s plush lips tickles your skin pleasantly, her voice now void of its previous detachment.

You smile softly, finished with unbraiding her hair, your fingers threading through the silky raven locks, careful not to give an accidental tug. Wednesday closes her eyes at your touch, and the tranquility of the moment has you feeling like a cat basking in warm sunlight, despite the object of your passions being a complete opposite to it.

“I’ll have to consult Enid on the topic of which herbs are the deadliest to werewolves.”

“Wednesday.”

[neuroticbookworm]

List of Jane's best mentor/boss moments from The Trainee episode 3

aka the list of things that make him so irresistible to me that I am going feral on main on a Sunday afternoon

Jane admonished Ryan for being late and missing the production transportation, but he did not linger on it and immediately put him to work by giving him clear and concise tasks: keep the walkie talkie with you, keep the extras on standby and put your phone on silent

When he saw that Ryan's shoelaces were becoming a recurring problem, he just got down on his knees and solved it, giving us a little glimpse into his thoughts on seniority in the workplace and how ageist ego has no place in it

He was extra patient with Ryan when his phone continued to ring on set (@lurkingshan, @twig-tea, @shortpplfedup and I were screaming our heads off at Ryan and yet Jane continued to tolerate him)

Noticing Ryan's hesitation and offering to show him how to use the walkie talkie without him asking

Trusting the rest of the interns to run B-set

When the mean extra auntie tried to pull "I'm elder than him" nonsense, Jane shut that shit down, HARDDDDD. This is such an important lesson in Asian workplaces, because the social norms around age and the respect it demands can drown young people who enter the workforce. Jane spelling it out for Ryan that his age should not hinder him from doing the job was a powerful moment and one I have rarely seen in Asian dramas, to be honest. I think this is the moment the sex-o-meter caught on fire

He was open to ideas from his intern even during a high-stress situation and even implemented Ryan's idea of using one of the support service team members as an extra to finish up the shoot! If Ryan doesn't buy him a Best Boss Ever mug, I'm gonna be so mad at him

He covered for Pie and took the blame himself when the client expressed dissatisfaction (read: scolded everyone like children). He shielded her from the real-world-shitstorm-stress that would 100% be Too Much for an intern to deal with, while also teaching the interns the importance of teamwork and not throwing people under the bus

After wrapping up, Jane made sure Ryan did not leave the set feeling inadequate from his mistakes, and instead encouraged him to see himself as a cog in a bigger machine. Everyone's contribution is important, and no one in a team can work completely alone.

And finally, he told Ryan that he would not hesitate to apologize to him in the future if he makes a mistake. Because, say it with him now...

Jane is extremely competent and is a compassionate mentor, which makes him so fucking sexy that my braincells are constantly at risk of spontaneous combustion

[yandere-daydreams]

Alhaitham & Kaveh give the vibes that they’d own a hybrid, like bunny or sheep darling so they can delude themselves into thinking they’re keeping them safe. or maybe they’re both hybrids too? maybe just Kaveh is?? the possibilities r so endless with this au

tw - implied non///con, unhealthy relationships, dumbification and unbalanced power dynamics.

there are actually so many possibilities with kalhaitham,,,, i can see any of these dynamics being really fun, but i am absolutely in-love with the concept of kaveh finding a stray bunny hybrid while scoping out an empty plot of land for an upcoming project (that is, if his client actually coughs up enough funding, this time) and immediately deciding he just can't bare to leave you all by yourself. alhaitham gets home in time to catch kaveh wrestling you into a bath, having already made a valiant effort to comb the burrs and mud out of your matted fur, and attempts to warn his roommate about how much attention hybrids can demand, how moody and absent-minded rabbits tend to be in particular, but of course, kaveh's too stubborn to listen. since kaveh swears up and down that you'll be staying in his bedroom and cared for with kaveh's meager commissions, he lets it go (even if he does keep tighnari on speed-dial, just in case).

you are a little cute, once you get cleaned up. bunny hybrids tend to be somewhat empty behind the eyes, and you're no exception, perfectly happy to be cared for and doted on and dressed up in kaveh's pretty, frilly outfits so long as it means you're fed well and allowed to spend your days bundled up in kaveh's fluffy, expensive blankets. you don't say much, not when you're alone with alhaitham, but kaveh seems more focused on treating you like some oversized stuffed animal than making conversation - always hauling you into his lap and fawning over your floppy ears, fussing over your outfits and your diet and your rough you must've had it before he took you in.

really, the only time alhaitham hears your voice is as he passes kaveh's door at night, when he pauses to listen to kaveh's cooing and the strangled, muffled sounds you let out, so unlike anything he's ever heard you make before. sometimes, he'll linger longer than he knows he should, fuck his fist as he pictures your plush body bouncing on kaveh's thigh - your big, dumb eyes wide and watery and your little pink nose twitching as you cum for the thousandth time. it's no wonder you've always got that glazed-over, faraway look; he's surprised you can bring yourself to think at all when kaveh's constantly fucking you to the brink of unconsciousness, constantly splitting you open on his tongue or his fingers or his cock whenever alhaitham turns his back. then again, alhaitham would be lying if he said he doesn't see why kaveh is so feral, when it comes to you.

if he had less self-restraint, he would've bent you over the first time he caught you traipsing around the house in one of your tiny skirts, would've told you to get on your knees as soon as he realized exactly what his roommate was using that pretty mouth for. you're lucky he has more self-respect than kaveh does. you're lucky he takes better care of his pets than kaveh does.

you're lucky that, when comes time for his turn to fuck your brains away, alhaitham's already decided he's going to treat you like the animal you are rather than the toy kaveh so clearly wants you to be.

[plmp0]

Just why

Summary: it was one of your routines to go live with some of your fans to show gratitude and probably attract more people to your group, but this time ur fan was a litlle too touchy for Sunghoon's liking.

Tags: idol!bf!sunghoon, idol!gf!reader,PWP, jealousy (for like 10 seconds), possessive sunghoon, kinda toxic, p in v, rough, mild choking, unprotected sex (don't do that), bulge kink, oral (m receiving), fingering, squirting, messy sex, aftercare. (I think that's all)

AU note: i wrote this at 4 am okay! idk wtf is this but yeah sorry if there is any mistakes and also eng is not my first language.

Sunghoon has been working out since this morning, he was so angry, seeing u flirt with a guy in a live was enough for him to loose his mind, he was used to u going live with one of ur fans once in a while and he was fine with it cause he knows how fans should be cherished as he has them as well, but when it's a guy that is constantly touching u, when his eyes never left u, he couldn't stand it, he is a person who gets jealous easily and he knows that and so u do and still you managed to upset him.

He sighed deeply and went to took a long hot shower trying to relax a little and calm his anger down, his muscles ached and his whole body was burning. He finished his shower wearing just his sweatpants while drying his hair, his eyebrows stuck together.

"You seem tense" u said from behind him and he didn't answer not even sparing u a glance, u came closer and rubbed his back, he let out a shaky breath, hands dropping the towel somewhere and he spoke without turning ur way "Did u really need to do a live with HIM?"

"Wdym?" U raised ur eyebrows, it was rule between both of u to not get into each other's work and it looks like Sunghoon forgot about that. He fixed his wet hair his voice hoarse "what i mean is that fan was Very touchy", u sighed rolling ur eyes Sunghoon has always been possessive for u but the thing is he doesn't have any reason to be so "well it's not like i was the one asking him to do that, we were live so anything i do can go against me, i tried to avoid his touches but yeah" u said sitting on his bed admiring his naked torso and the way the water in his hair falls on his body, Sunghoon clicked his tongue not liking ur attitude the slightest as he turned and looked into ur eyes and you got lost, his gaze was dark and full of anger hands on his hips flexing unintentionally his biceps and u felt small under his gaze, u swallowed thickly, his eyes following your every move as he took a step toward u, then another, and another until he stood right in front of u.

His fingers held ur chin forcing u to look at him "Sunghoon...", his thumb traced ur bottom lip shushing you as he sighed "why did u let him do that? Do u like it when a guy touches you? When he stares at you? When he flirts with you? Does it turn u on?"

His questions made you nervous, you know that his jealousy is the one speaking but u don't know why, maybe it's the tone he is using or the way his eyes darkened, either way he was intimidating. (and you liked that)

"Do u want me to show u what i do when i get mad?", he took a step forward, forcing u to fall back and his knee was between ur legs, his hands grabbed ur wrists holding them above ur head and his face was so close to yours,

"Tell me baby...what do u think i will do to u?" He breathed out his eyes on ur lips and u felt urself get turned on by the way he is acting, you have never seen him like this and you wanted him to go further "You tell me, Hoonie" u mumbled softly. "You like the sound of that? Me going feral?" He asked his eyes back to stare at urs.

"Show me then" u breathed out challenging him and he smiled, his eyes glinting dangerously, his hands tightening around ur wrists excited to take that brattiness out of you, He leaned into ur ear and bit your lobe whispering "i'm gonna wreck you"

Sunghoon pulled you up and pushed you towards the headboard of the bed, his body towering over yours, his hands went to hold ur throat making you moan softly, his tongue licked ur ear and trailed down ur neck leaving open mouthed kisses, he stopped near ur collarbone and sucked harshly, making you moan and squirm underneath him, he left a kiss on your shoulder and stopped to admire his art , his hands went to the hem of ur shirt pulling it off u and he threw it somewhere in the room, his fingers playing with the lace bra u had on, "white?" He thought ,u bit ur lip, your arms going to cover ur boobs and his eyes darkened.

"Don't hide yourself, let me see you" he let out his voice deep and husky, his hands grabbed ur wrist and held them over ur head his other hand undoing ur bra throwing it away and his eyes dropped to look at your exposed chest, his tongue wetting his bottom lip as he felt his mouth dry, you are so beautiful and the fact that he has you for himself always makes his heartbeats fasten, your cheeks heated up as u felt his gaze on you and he mumbled mockingly "what? Did u take back ur words?" And you only shifted your eyes from him shying away from him, and he chuckled leaning to take on one of your boobs in his mouth, his tongue sucking harshly making you moaning, he kissed his way to ur other boob doing the same as you kept squirming.

His fingers played with ur hard nipples and his teeth grazed it, u whimpered and he smirked, his hands going to grab ur breasts and he gave it a harsh squeeze making u gasp arching your back, his thumbs rubbing ur sensitive buds, "so sensitive", he kissed ur nipple and took it in his mouth again tugging it slightly leaving you like a mess.

His hands grabbed the waistband of ur jeans and pulled it down noticing the wet spot on ur panties, "Soaked already?", u looked away embarrassed and he held ur chin in place "answer me"

"Yes" was all u could say, a smug smile formed on his lips as his thumb traced your bottom lip, and u sucked on it almost immediately and his eyes darkened even more if it's possible, his mouth attacked yours in a heated and messy kiss, his tongue dominating yours as always, and his hands lowered to your ass, squeezing and groping it harshly. You moaned loudly, your hands tugging his hair and he groaned into the kiss, his hand slapped your buttcheek hard and you pulled away to let a small cry, he kissed ur jawline and licked it numbing on it and u pulled his hair roughly, "hmmm" he hummed enjoying every moment of this. His finger slipped under ur panties and rubbed ur clit, "so wet" he chuckled, and you moaned loudly when his fingers went to your entrance rubbing your wetness and coating his fingers in it. "Fuck you drive me crazy! I can't think straight" his breath hitched. "I'm sorry" u whispered you know exactly how he keeps overthinking things and you can only imagine what was on his head after watching your live, he looked at u with hooded eyes oh how sorry you are going to be he thought "tell me what u want me to do to you" he whispered lowly, "Anything, everything, please, anything you want" u said desperate for release after the amount of teasing he put u through.

"Hmmm" he thought for a second and his mouth found your nipples again, sucking and nibbling at them, "Hoonie...please" u whined having enough from his teasing and wanting the real thing (lmao bye )

"Please what? Say it, use your words" he said almost mockingly watching you squirm not even able to form a proper sentence "Plea- hmmm, I need u, please fuck me"

He chuckled, his fingers slipped into you and u moaned loudly arching your back, his digits were long and slim and his thrusts were quick and rough, he pumped his fingers into u making your eyes roll back, his mouth went back to ur nipple while his other hand was holding your waist firmly and u arched your back pushing him deeper into you, "shit, shit, shit" u cried. He can feel his cock twitching every time u made a sound like that, ur expressions captured in his brain, he love to see you like this, so small, so helpless around him and he was about to lose it when u rolled ur eyes back hips following his movements.

"You're so hot, baby, do you know how many times i thought about fucking you while you were dancing? How many times i wanted to throw u on my lap and make you cum around me in the middle of the dance room? Do you know how many times i wanted to fuck you in front of those cameras to show everyone who u belong to" he groaned, his pace getting fast, "Ho-Hoonie" you cried, the sound of ur wetness was so loud, his hand was coated with your slick leaving a mess on the sheets as well, his fingers curled inside of u making you see white, and even at ur fucked state u couldn't help it but spot how his hard cock was throbbing through his sweatpants making you whine loudly, and he laughed darkly noticing u "you want it? Beg for it, tell me how much u need my cock"

"P-please, I- I need u, I want u, I can't take it anymore" u said desperately, his fingers pulled out and went to rub your clit very fastly his other hand keeping u in place as u tried to get away from his fingers at how intense you felt ur release coming, u cried as you came undone squirting all over his hand and his chest, Sunghoon looked at you satisfied, your legs were shaking panting heavingly, your body feeling weak already, "good girl, you did great" he kissed your forehead and got up, u frowned confused "Where are u going?" You asked and he pointed at his lower half "I'll be back, just give me a minute"

Sunghoon took off his sweatpants and boxers, his length springing free and smacking his toned stomach, your mouth watered, the way his dick curved upwards and the veins around it, the way his tip was red and the way his balls looked heavy,HE was perfect, his hand went to wrap around his member pumping it slowly, moaning at the feeling making you swallow the lump in your throat. "You like what u see?" He asked, his eyes half lidded, and his thumb smeared his precum around his tip, u nodded slowly "want a taste?" He asked and you got up crawling towards him making him smirk ohh how much he loves it when u act like an eager slut for him.

U sat on ur knees, looking up at him and he groaned when your warm tongue lapped the tip his hands went to pull ur hair, he groaned dropping back his head enjoying the way your mouth was wrapped around his tip before you started hollowing your cheeks and sucking him, his eyes noting the was u didn't dropped eye-contact making his breath hitch and u felt his cock twitch in ur mouth.

You tried to take him as far as u can but he is just too big and long that it wasn't possible for u to not gag, his eyes opened and he looked at you again, his thumb wiping the tears in your eyes loving the way ur mascara was messed up  and his other hand cupped ur cheek caressing it softly and your eyes met his again after rolling back, he smiled lovingly at you and the way his eyes turned so soft made ur heart race. He pulled out of ur mouth, his tip smacked his stomach and you couldn't help but admire him, "do u like it? Do u like it when i treat you like a princess while i'm rough with you?" He asked and u nodded, he hummed and went to lay down on his back and you crawled over him, he held his length and u positioned yourself on top of him, his tip teasing your entrance before going inside you and he groaned at how warm and wet u felt his hands guiding you to sit on him and take more of him slowly, the stretch was so good and he hissed as u moaned feeling him filling you up completely, his hand rested on ur hips his eyes closed enjoying how good u feel, and u moved on top of him, rolling your hips slowly as u kept moaning "shit" u whined,picking up ur pace bouncing on his cock, his eyes were now glued to the way his dick disappears inside of you, "god! so tight" he groaned, his hand slapped your buttcheek harshly and the way you clenched around him made him grunt, he thrusted his hips into yours, hitting your sensitive spot again and again until you cried.

"So close, i'm so close" you mumbled and his hand went to grab your neck making you choke mind going crazy, "I'm close too, baby" he whispered.

He kept pounding into you making the bed squeak you were sure ur neighbors heard everything as your moans were getting so loud, he let go of your neck and you lowered ur body taking more of him making him lose his mind one of his hands now traveled down to feel the bulge in ur stomach and his eyes rolled back at that his thrusts now fast and hard, it felt so good, his cock twitched inside of you and u knew that he is about to release at any moment you closed ur eyes enjoying the way he was grunting and groaning, his hands went to hold onto your ass delivering a hard smack making u scream as he kept fucking you into oblivion. You kept getting close and you struggled to hold ur release "Cum inside, fill me up, please" u begged wanting to cum with him and he chuckled "my eager slut" he cooed his thrusts never slowing down, "m gonna make sure to fill u up dw" his fingers went to play with ur clit making your body shake uncontrollably as u dropped your head on his shoulder crying not able to hold ur release anymore and he whispered into your ear lowly "cum, baby" You rolled your eyes back, and let out a scream cumming hard on him, his hips stuttered against u his cum filling you up as well, he groaned deeply,"fuck, take it" he rolled his eyes his movements not stopping until he got rid of his high fucking his cum inside you more, his arms going to hug you and his lips kissing your head sweetly, the two of you laid there trying to catch ur breath, your legs were trembling, your body was weak, you felt him softening inside of you and he kissed your head again whispering sweet words in your ear as his hands rubbed your back soothingly.

"You ok?" He asked and u hummed not wanting to talk making him laugh at ur cuteness and knowing how exhausted you were, his hand caressed your hair, you loved this side of him it makes u fall for him more, knowing that you are the only one with whom he can act so sweet and soft, only you are allowed to see his vulnerable side, his weakness, u sighed softly hugging his buff body "m sure m gonna wake up someday passed out just because of your hard grip" u joked feeling his hug tightening, he smirked playing with ur hair "the only hard thing you are gonna wake up to is my morning wood darling" You looked at him shocked and his smirk only got bigger, u pushed him lightly "Park Sunghoon!" He laughed at ur reaction, his hand going to brush a strand of hair away from ur face moving so you can face him, he looked into ur eyes deeply his gaze was so soft, so gentle, full of love, his thumb brushed against ur cheekbones and he whispered lovingly "i love you"

Ahhhhhhhhh i should go to sleep fr, but yeah i hope u enjoy ~~

[gabberpopsexclusive]

Id love to see u do nsfw alphabet

NSFW ALPHABET TIME!! WAHOO!!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

after sex i think hes really gentle with you tbh, he seems like he would be really sweet, cleaning you up and cuddling you after you're done, telling you how good you did.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his favorite body part is probably his arms. he likes how perfectly you fit in them!! he swears you're just the cutest thing when you're wrapped up in his arms. his favorite body part of yours is probably your chest, doesn't matter what gender you are, the man loves tits. your tits the most!

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

is it criminal to say i think he would be into creampies? am i projecting? maybe. i think seeing his cum just pump back out of you does something insane to him and makes him absolutely feral.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

hes like unbelievably needy, and has an insane sex drive. that man can barely go a day without jerking off to you or fucking you, and there is NOTHING that can stop him from doing so. you aren't in the mood? its okay! he'll just hump your leg. anything works for him as long as he gets to feel good!

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

decently experienced imo. not like hes had an insane amount of sex, but just enough to the point where he knows just how to make you feel good. he knows what hes doing, i feel like especially when hes eating you out, he knows exactly how to make you feel AMAZING while hes down in between your thighs.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

i feel like hes a sucker for doggy style. but also, i feel like he really likes to see your face when you fuck, so missionary is a big hit with him aswell. hear me out on this aswell, 69-ing with him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

little bit of both imo. like hes not too serious when hes fucking you, but hes also not too goofy when hes doing it. maybe a bit more serious because he's so focused on making you feel good while u fuck.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

i feel like hes decently groomed, not too hairy down there. i feel like his pubes match more with his beard color than his hair color (why is that so hot?) so theyre a bit more ginger-y the way his beard is.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

i feel like hes quite intimate with you when you're fucking, i feel like most of the time hes quite doting about your needs. he's typically praising you about how well you're doing and how good you make him feel.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

i feel like he jerks off to you alot (as i said) but even more when hes away from you. like when hes away from you for a while on tour, you'll get atleast 4 videos a week of him jerking off to you, telling you how much he misses you and how hard hes gonna fuck you as soon as he gets back.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

i feel like he has a thing for nipple play, idk why exactly. doesn't matter if its him playing with your tits or you playing with his, he absolutely loves it either way. he just can't get enough of the pleasure it brings him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

i feel like he likes more intimate and private spaces, but at the same time he'll totally do it somewhere like backstage in his dressing room after a show. depends on how much he needs you and how riled up he is in the moment.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

you. you get him going. it doesnt matter what you do, literally your presence will turn him on. he loves you so much he just needs you constantly! theres no saving him, hes head over heels

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he may be a freak, but i dont think he'd be into piss. just doesn't seem like his thing. bodily fulids (beside cum, hear me out maybe a bit of blood but that might be too freaky) turn him off i feel like.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he LOVES giving you head but he also loves when you give him head. he eats you out soooo well, his tongue is perfectly skillful while hes doing so. he makes you cum so effortlessly when hes eating you out, its absolutely mind blowing. i also think he enjoys guiding you when you give him head, telling you exactly how he wants it and telling you how well you're doing.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

little bit o' both, depends if hes domming or subbing imo. dom!joost seems a bit more rough and hard to me, and sub!joost seems like hes fast but gentle, just because hes so needy for you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he likes quickies when he needs you quickly, but i feel like he really likes to have real, slow, intimate sex with you when he can. i think he likes the connection of it better.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he seems like the type to try anything once, and if he likes it he'll beg you to do it every time yall fuck. like the first time you pegged him, oh god he couldn't stop asking when you'd do it again, he just cant get enough.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

depends on how pent up he is. i feel like he cums like many times, and alot. he lasts a while unless hes needy, and edging him is an amazing experience. you can really see how needy he can get when you edge him.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

if you own toys, he'll use them. he doesn't strike me as the type to have many, maybe like a fleshlight for when he has to leave you for a while. i can totally see him using a vibrator on you, and vice versa on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

i feel like he does like to tease you, especially when he's subby. he gives me occasional brat vibes, just because sometimes he enjoys a hard punishment from you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he's loud. he moans, he whimpers, he whines, the whole nine yards. don't even get me started on the ways he praises you when you're fucking.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

i feel like he likes subbing a bit more than he likes domming. he likes to be comforted, and alot of the time he also likes being overstimulated. subspace for him is the perfect place for that to happen.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

i feel like he's a solid 7.5 inches (19 cm for my international readers). his dick has a bit of girth to it, but it's not unbelievably thick. it's like, the perfect dick. there's no other way to describe it exactly.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

his sex drive is so high. as i've said, he's constantly horny. he'll either jerk off to you or fuck you whenever he can, he just needs you constantly.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he's zonked out as soon as you're done. like, as soon as hes done with aftercare, hes out like a light. (preferably cuddling you)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

gosh this took forever.. hope yall like :D

i am NOT proofreading this. any errors are my fault

[fa1rydr3ams]

General Sub Yandere! Shigaraki Headcanons Pt. 1

| cw: 18+ mdni, sub! shigaraki, dom! gn reader, sfw fluff, nsfw

| a/n: its been a while hehe.. check out the pixie works because I am BACK

| wc: 100+

sub! shigaraki who despite being submissive is fiercely yandere in his desire to keep you close. he’s constantly looking for reassurance that he’s the only one you want, even if it means interrupting your conversations or sulking when you talk to someone else

sub! shigaraki isn’t naturally submissive, but his tendencies push him into that role for you. he’ll do anything you ask—clean up, stop scratching himself, or even tone down his destructive tendencies—because the thought of losing you terrifies him

sub! shigaraki craves affection and will literally melt if you stroke his hair or cup his cheeks. these moments are when he’s the most vulnerable, often mumbling how much he needs you and no one else

sub! shigaraki who if he sees you with someone else, he won’t lash out at them but instead become increasingly desperate to prove his worth to you. he’ll beg for your attention, his voice breaking as he insists no one else can love you like he does

sub! shigaraki who knows you’re perfect and far above him. he constantly doubts why you would even want him, and it’s this insecurity that fuels his need to please you in every way he can

sub! shigaraki who in intimate moments clings to you, begging for your touch and approval. he’s incredibly vocal, whimpering your name like a prayer as he lets you take full control

sub! shigaraki feels he needs proof that he belongs to you. hickeys, scratches, or bruises left by your hands are treasured, and he’ll often touch them with a dazed smile when alone

sub! shigaraki who’s focus is entirely on your pleasure. he’ll ask breathlessly if he’s doing well, his red eyes brimming with need as he waits for your praise. your satisfaction becomes his obsession, leaving him shaky and pliant when he finally receives it

sub! shigaraki and his yandere nature sometimes bleeds into his submissiveness. if you tease or deny him too much, his desperation turns feral—he might beg with tears in his eyes, trembling hands clutching at you as he pleads for release, threatening to “lose control” if you don’t give him what he craves

[mythicmanuscripts]

i am literally obsessed with ur sub hcs,, id love to see what you write for sub!jacaerys!! <3

Aw I’m so glad people are enjoying my work!! I was so so so nervous to actually start this blog and start posting my writings and ideas, it took me like a solid month just to make the first post 😂 so I am so so glad that people are liking it!! Anyway, here’s some head cannons for sub!jace. Everyone is more than welcome to ask me to expand on some of this or to send me their own ideas :))

— I can’t explain why but I’m convinced that Jace would have such a sensitive neck? Neck kisses, hickeys and choking drive him absolutely insane.

— if you want to make the poor lad lose his mind, hug him from behind and press kisses to his neck and then nibble on his ear a little while moving your hand down to cup his crotch. He will absolutely melt.

— in fact sometimes you can just continue to bite and kiss his neck while palming his crotch and he’ll buck into your hand and cum embarrassingly quickly in his pants, it’s his absolute weakness.

— along the same line, I think he would love groping? He would never ever grope you, he’s much too respectful for that. But if you grope him? He’s done for. He loves it.

— especially if you’re married to him? Cause then, then you’re his wife! And it’s a husband’s duty to keep his wife satisfied! His wife just touching him however she wants, using his body and toying with him drives him absolutely insane. Feral.

— I also think he gets super super sensitive after his first orgasm? Once he cums, you have to remove any stimulation from his cock for at least a few minutes before the poor thing is just SO sensitive!!!

— once, he was eating you out, as he loves to do, and while he was doing it laying on his stomach between your legs, so he was grinding against the bed. You told him he can cum if he wants cause he’s being so good and he does end up cumming like that. But then… then suddenly he’s whining and shaking and not in a good way?? You quickly drag him up and into your arms and ask what’s going on, and eventually he manages to explain that after he came, the feeling of the bed against his cock was just too much for the poor thing.

— (you give him a kiss and then ride his face instead)

— so yes, very very sensitive Jace. If you do want to overstimulate him, which is something he enjoys when done right, you have to wait at least 5-10min after he cums before you can touch his cock again.

— I know I’ve said it already but just to reiterate: choking.

— I also think he loves anything that will leave a mark on him? He always acts all shy and blushy when you do it but then afterwards he’s constantly looking at himself in the mirror to see the marks you’ve left and then when they fade he gets all whiny and upset and you have to give him more marks.

[gorgonwrites]

wriothesley headcanons

NSFW below the cut! minors DNI. 18+

author's note: i'm BACK!!! and i am obsessed with a certain duke from genshin, good gawds. my best friend and i starting spitting ideas out about our fav genshin men, and i decided i wanna share these with you all. :) enjoy! <3

This man is covered in tattoos- he just tends to dress so they aren’t visible. He has a Cerberus piece that takes up his entire back, and he has lots of florals that cover his legs and arms and chest. That’s his secret little way of bringing some of the overworld down to him. 

Wriothesley is SUPER outdoorsy. He doesn’t make it a habit to spend a lot of time away from the Fortress of Meropide, but when he does go up to the overworld he’s most likely trying to soak up as much sunshine and fresh air as he can. 

He gets sunburned so easily, bless him. Even if he slathers sunscreen on, it's guaranteed he’ll come back to the Fortress burnt to a crisp. He never complains though. He took Sigewinne camping once, and his sunburn was so bad she was convinced he had sun poisoning when they got back home. 

He loves taking cheesy photos where he’s “holding” or “leaning on” landmarks, and is always super smug about the pictures if they turn out exactly like he wanted. 

Has a photic sneeze reflex. And on that note- the man’s sneezes are so fucking obnoxious. They echo throughout the Fortress when he sneezes in his office. He gets his feelings hurt if no one says ‘bless you’ though. 

To show love, Wriothesley gives physical touch and gifts. He loves seeing small things throughout his long days that remind him of his partner, and he wants them to know he’s thinking of them constantly. 

To receive love, he needs physical touch and words of affirmation. Trust is extremely hard for him, so having verbal reassurance is key to him relaxing and building trust with his partner. 

Is literally just a little baby. The man would melt into being cuddled after a long, hard day.

nsfw below<3

This man has a SERIOUS praise kink. He needs to know when he’s doing well and the reassurance drives him crazy. He’s also quick to give praise to his partners- the intimacy makes him melt. Will lose his mind if someone calls him a good boy. 

He also has a very mild degradation kink- he loves to tease his partners or slightly embarrass them. He can’t help that he’s fucking them stupid! 

T I T T Y MAN!!! 

Pierced nips because he likes the look of them. 

Obsessed with his partners riding his face. He just wants to be a tool for their pleasure, and in his opinion that's the perfect way to let them use him how they want.

He loves bondage, but more specifically, he loves shibari. He thinks it's beautiful, and the time spent tying his partners up in intricate positions feels incredibly intimate to him. 

He also has a bit of a sadistic streak- he loooooves predicament bondage too. 

Mild voyeur and exhibitionist kink, he’s a bit jealous at times though so he tends to lean more into exhibitionism. 

He LOVES edging. Giving and receiving- the delayed gratification of it all makes him feral. If he’s edging his partner, he wants to see tears and hear begging before he finally gives in and lets them come. If he’s on the receiving end, he tries to hold out as long as  humanly possible because he gets so lost in the pleasure. He’s usually crying out by the end, though. 

Generally, such a soft and tender lover. He’s very attentive and adapts well. He would most likely try anything at least once, and would say if he didn’t like something in particular. He expects the same from his partners. 

[cupcakeslushie]

I am really enjoying your Empyrean Weeping AU and am looking forward to the Donnie Arc (the brothers need to save the feral child immediately).

I have a question for you: When it comes to making au how do you know if your going “too far” with an au (if there’s even such a thing) as in that your drifting too far from the canon world, characters and story? Maybe even to the point where you can’t really even say that the au is an au of a preexisting world and not just its own separate thing. How many changes, additions or flat-out rewrites are too many?

I ask this because I’m making my own au for a franchise I really adore but I’m kinda worried about going a little too crazy with my ideas. I know that because it’s an au it doesn’t have to adhere to canon, that’s why it’s called an “alternate universe” in the first place but still.

Like- Your EW characters (and overall world) are pretty different from their canon Rise counterparts and the AU is great! Feeling like it could stand on its own as a completely separate TMNT iteration.

I just don’t know if I’m going about this right with the plans for my au. So I’m looking for a bit of advice I suppose.

Whoa. Sorry that this got so long and ramble-y.

I think….hm. This is a good question. Part of it is, there really is no limit. If you’re fine with going crazy with it…but you do still want some aspects of the characters to shine through, I’ll tell you what I do.

I tend to be really interested in the whole concept of nature vs nurture. So I look at each character individually and pick out which traits I believe are ingrained, which are learned, which grew out of necessity—like coping mechanisms…and I see what new lenses I can show them through.

Like for example, Donnie’s desperate desire to be useful. We saw how panicked he became in Witch Town, when he thought there was a possibility he’d be replaced by mystic powers…if we take that fear—put it through the angle of him being raised Draxum, and being constantly treated as though he was useless…I imagined that would make him even worse at being impulsive and causing chaos in any attempt to prove himself.

Mikey is super competitive, so I figured he would shine if thrown into the battle nexus, and be an adorable little shit about it! He’d take a lot of pride in his wins—at first, but he’s also very empathetic, and those two traits would start to clash.

What if Leo’s coping skill of making everything a joke is totally stripped from him via his strict upbringing with the Foot Clan?

Raph is the one always taking care of his brothers, what would it be like if he got more attention as an only child?

These are really basic questions I started with, and I love sneaking in little ways my boys are similar and ways they’re different to canon (like Leo hating magic instead of loving it, because of what Kitsune did to him)

If you want to keep closer to the source material, but still make it your own, figure out what circumstances call for which changes, and which aspects you think would stay in tact, no matter what they go through.

I hope this made sense!

[ohbo-ohno]

POLY 141 ??? dude ive been thinkin abt them long nd hard at lemme tell u… i have thoughts.

like they’re established. they’re all dating each other and after a mission they’re at a bar and that’s when they see u.

not sure how itd work but they most def kidnap reader and shes (v much so) in distress and keeps trying to break out but they wnt let her leave :(

i imagine soapgaz to always follow reader around like puppies and when she does smth they dnt like they arnt harsh w their punishments like ghostprice. they most def always give reader puppy dog eyes that sometimes make her cave.

ghostprice are the ones set to disciple you not only bc of their designation in the military but bc they dnt mind if u see them as thr bad guy at first.

poly141 make me insane and feral.

-🌙

well gee golly gosh if reader is overwhelmed with just simon and ghost she'd go CRAZY with all four

i NEED soap x gaz x reader. they would be ?!?!?!?!? i want frat boys fucking the new freshman looking to lose her virginity. seven minutes in heaven with gaz and soap sneaks in to have fun too. soap ties you up and blindfolds you and gaz sneaks in to take his turn with you. just two homies obsessed with blowing your mind

n e ways poly!141 kidnapping you below the cut:

gaz is less feral than soap but no less needy. they're constantly competing for your affection. soap lays his head on your stomach, gaz lays his head on your chest. soap gives you a footrub, gaz gives you a backrub. soap hand feeds you, gaz lifts your drink to your lips. always arguing about what you look cutest in. gaz prefers you in his clothes but soap prefers you naked. gaz puts his hat on you and soap gets unbelievably offended. the only thing they can agree on when it comes to you is how hard you need to be fucked

i am a firm believer in price being the only person in the world ghost is submissive to. not completely submissive, mind you, but he deters to him. price smoking a cigar in his recliner while ghost fucks you over the arm of the couch, telling him when to speed up and slow down, long puffs of smoke before he tells simon to make you come. soap and gaz on their knees at his feet like good dogs.

also price loooooves plopping his hat on your head. it's too big for you, drops down to cover your eyes and leaves you blind. fucks you in it and you keep scrambling to shove it up so you can try and see what's going on :(

price wouldn't use his belt on you. would just tug you over his lap and smacks your ass with his hand until you're nearly screaming

(price puts his cigars out on simon's tongue when he needs to be reminded of his place, when he gets a little too pushy with you or him)

[enigma-the-mysterious]

Komuram Bheemudo: "Make that bastard kneel now!" Part 2/?

Hey! Hey! Hey! Remember how the whole point of the public flogging was to make Bheem kneel?

Who am I kidding? We are reminded of it constantly throughout the flogging

Ram's failed attempt #1

Ram's failed attempt #2

This bitchiest bitch to ever bitch

Ram's failed attempt #3

This asshole dickfuck vomitted straight out of hell

Ram's failed attempt #4

And in the end, Bheem has his way. He falls, but he does not kneel. They break him, but they cannot be bend him. They can command him, threaten him, brutalize him, but they cannot subdue him. He is the tiger, he cannot be tamed.

But!

BUT!

BUT!

You know what detail makes me go absolutely feral is interesting?

Bheem is not the one who kneels after the flogging.

RAM DOES!

RAM IS THE ONE WHO IS BROUGHT TO HIS KNEES AT THE END OF THE FLOGGING!!!

And I don't even mean this in a metaphorical sense (though that one is true as well)

Ram. Is. Physically. Kneeling. Beside. Bheem. I cannot stress this enough.

This is a KEY moment in the movie. It's a turning point.

We know that seeing the unarmed civilians rising up against the armed British forces in the wake of Bheem's defiance is what spurs Ram to finally, FINALLY arrive at his epiphany. His idea of what a revolution is and how it can be achieved is too narrow, too rigid, too costly. The sacrifices are too many and at what point will the ends justify the means?

But to change his viewpoint (again both literally and metaphorically), RAM HAS TO BEND FIRST! Once Ram bends, only then can he finally SEE!

And what is it that makes Ram bend? It's his LOVE FOR BHEEM! His love for Bheem changes him.

So these, that is, the shots where Ram is SEEING a revolution, an actual revolution in action, sparked by nothing more than Bheem's song and his indomitable spirit....

....come AFTER these shots. Where Ram is compelled by his love for Bheem to bend down and kneel

Compare this with Ram's introduction scene.

There is a revolution going on. People show up in front of a police station on the outskirts of Delhi to protest the arrest of Lala Lajpat Rai, a prominent Indian political figure, in Kolkata, armed with nothing more than torches, flags, and their righteous anger.

Ram watches the revolution. But he does not SEE it. He is so focused on his distant goal that he is blind to what is right in front of him. What is literally staring at him in the eye.

So, what does Ram do with his myopic worldview? He quashes the revolution. He stamps out the very thing he is fighting for. He breaks the spirit of the revolution, the spirit of the people, and he watches stone-faced as the protesters limp away, defeated. All because he cannot SEE the revolution for what it is.

So, with these two scenes in mind, we understand that this is not the first time Ram has witnessed a revolution. The people's uprising in the wake of Bheem's torture is nothing new to him. He has watched it all before, has actively participated in snuffing it out even.

Here, Ram STANDS tall, straight, rigid, focused, unbending.

Here, Ram is ON HIS KNEES.

The only factor that changes between these two scenes is the presence of Bheem..... and Ram's love for him. It's Ram's love for Bheem that bends his inflexible worldview. It's Ram's love for Bheem that makes him take a step back and actually see the true meaning of revolution. It's Ram's love for Bheem that shifts his perspective. It's Ram's love for Bheem that makes Ram willingly give up a 15 year long mission he has been toiling endlessly for.

Love is THE MOST powerful force in RRR. No amount of pain, grief, anger, heartbreak, trauma, brutality or violence can wipe it out. It is love that shines and love that emerges victorious. And after the flogging, Ram's love for Bheem is the most powerful driving force in his life, more powerful than a lifelong mission, more powerful than a promise made among tears and blood.

The visual storytelling and symbolisms in this movie are insane. I am going to scream about them for the next 80 years.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Mini Meta]

[sunlightmurdock]

Firefighter Bradley coming home to you after hard call on shift, just wanted to be held

Firefighter Bradley sending you pictures from work in his uniform, because he knows it gets you going

Firefighter Bradley coming home IN HIS UNIFORM on his break, because he forgot something, turns into quickie

Firefighter Bradley inviting you to a family day at the station so you can see him at work doing all the firefighter stuff all hot and sweaty

Firefighter Bradley throwing scenarios at you randomly at any moment just to make sure you know what to do if you find yourself in situation involving fire, gas or any other related danger

Firefighter Bradley being little more protective of you, because he saw lot of bad things happen at work and he just doesn't want to lose you

*sigh* I too love firefighter Bradley

When I say firefighter Bradley is my dream man, I am truly not kidding and it’s because of all of the above!

Bu you’re exactly right, there are times, more often than not, where he goes through a really tough shift and comes home to immediately drag you into bed with him. He loves to just lay against your chest (even if he crushes you a lil) and let your heartbeat regulate all those big emotions until he’s either asleep or ready to talk

He’s not only good at expressing his emotions — he’s hot and he loves to show off to you. Every day you’re getting pictures of him in his uniform, arms straining against his t-shirt and a shit-eating grin on his face because he knows what it does to you. He never changes before he comes home anymore, loving your (usually feral) reaction to his uniform

He loves nothing more than sauntering into the living room like he’s all innocent and seeing you get that look in your eyes, then pretending to act surprised when you’re climbing him like a tree and kissing at his neck. His coworkers have a running joke about why he always loves to run home on his lunch breaks, and they’re exactly right

And yes, he’s constantly trying to get you to come down to the station and he’s beyond excited when you agree. He’s even more of a show off on that day, playing with the kids and being an excellent role model— then sneaking you off for a private tour of the station, that winds up with the two of you screwing in one of the bunks.

But for sure, when he’s not being silly or sexy, Bradley can get very serious about things (which is definitely still sexy). He shows you he cares about you in dozens of ways, one of them being by making sure you always know what to do in an emergency and that you always know he’ll never be far away 🫡