#i would like to be domestic as fuck with this boy pls

[trophyfemmebimbo]

🥺

[fettuccin-e]

Honey-Sweet

Description: You're far too sweet for him. He's determined not to ruin you, despite the fact that he seems to ruin everything, and everything about you just seems to make his fantasies worse. But one night can change everything, apparently, when Miguel finally sees how completely not sweet you can be.

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, hoooh boy a lotta smut okay, oral (m and f recieving), unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), riding, doggy, missionary, some fluff bc i'm not completely deranged, light degradation (w/c: 2.1K)

A/N: oh lord the Miguel brainrot is REAL folks okay this is fucking crazy. I WANT THIS MAN TO **** ** **** * ****** ******* okay he has me fuckin frothing at the DAMN MOUTH actin like a DAMN DOG okay so please enjoy a bit of a miguel smutfest

You’re too fucking sweet for him. That’s what he tells himself. Miguel O’Hara doesn’t do sweet.

You’re fucking sweet with the way you bring cookies in for the other Spiders that accompany you on missions. You’re sweet in how you brought in a ridiculous hand-made baby blanket for Mayday when Peter first brought her in, emblazoned with his Spider-Man logo to wrap her up tight in. You’d kissed the baby on the head, whispering tiny sweet nothings into her bright red hair, and Miguel had had to hide the emergence of his fangs at the sight of it.

You’re too sweet, too kind for him. You organize little movie nights at the office, you make him stay a little longer on missions so you can see the tourist spots from different universes. And the way you look at him, all wide-eyed and bright and smiling… it does things to him.

It makes him want to bring you flowers, kiss you on the cheek. It makes him want to plan fucking candle-lit dinners and bake cupcakes with you. All sweet, too sweet.

But, because he apparently can’t stop himself, you also want to make him do decidedly not sweet things. Like grab at your tits through your suit, pinching your nipples until your knees go weak and you whimper his name in your gorgeous little voice. Like force you down on your knees, fucking his cock into your hot mouth while tears leak down your cheeks. Like tying you up with his webs, eating your pretty cunt out while you struggle against them, whining that “it’s too much, too much Miguel.” Like fucking you deep, so fucking deep on his cock, making you squeeze around him while you scream for him, beg for him to fill you up with cum. He thinks about watching it leak out of your achy pussy, dripping down your thighs.

But you’re so goddamn sweet, too gorgeous and lovely, and he can’t ruin you, he can’t. 

So when you finally wear him down, finally get him to go to coffee with you, he tries to be just as sweet as you. You hold his fucking hand, you kiss him on the cheek. You smile into his mouth as his lips meet yours in front of your apartment door. Miguel swears that his heart will pop with how much it swells when you’re near him.

He brings you flowers, walks you to your door, brings you lunch while you’re filing post-mission paperwork. And God, it’s beautiful. It’s fantastic and bright and so wonderfully domestic that Miguel wonders if he’s died, gone to some heaven he doesn’t deserve. He’s determined to revel in the domesticity of this… thing he’s created with you, his disgusting fantasies be damned.

He doesn’t like to think about how he has to fuck his hand after he drops you off at your house, his lips still burning with the touch of your soft, soft kiss. He thinks about how your lips would look stretched around his dick.

He’s content. He’s happy. For the first time in so fucking long, he’s happy. And he’ll happily tug on his dick by himself for the rest of damn time if it means that he gets to revel in your soft, pretty, wonderful sweetness for a little bit longer. He will not ruin you.

But.

As he kisses you softly in front of your apartment, the both of you still suited up from your latest mission, you tug him closer. You pull him down into your hungry mouth, and you lick into him like you’re starving for it. He can’t help how he growls at the feeling of it, his big hands coming to clutch at your hips. God, you’re pretty, fucking addicting with the way your tongue tangles with his and how you whimper when his hands cup your ass, tugging you up just that extra inch.

“Take me to bed, Miguel,” you gasp between feverish kisses, and fuck, he’s gone.

He hauls you into his arms, and his knees almost go weak at the way you wrap your thighs tightly around his middle, the way you lick into his mouth all over again.

And Miguel has spent so much time in his head, thinking, no, knowing that you’re sweeter than goddamn pie. It’s in every fucking breath you take, every moment he spends with you. 

But that night, as he lays you onto the bed, gently, gently like you deserve, he learns that you’re not as sweet as he thinks you are.

Not at all.

Not with the way you roll him over with your strength, begging for him to disengage his suit, looking at him like you want to devour him as it dissolves around him, leaving him bare to your gaze. You graze a reverent hand up his chest as he heaves under you, whispering, “God, can’t believe I’ve waited this long to have you like this. You’re so pretty, Miguel.” 

Pretty. Pretty? He can’t be the pretty one, no, not when you’re unzipping your own suit, and he can see everything. Every inch of supple, soft skin. Your nipples, hard and peaked and begging for his touch. Your pretty, pretty pussy; he can see how you’re practically dripping, the wetness between your legs glistening in the soft lamplight.

And you’re not sweet, not sweet at all, when you nip and suck little marks down his chest and abs, grinning up at him like a damn siren when he gasps at your touch. Fuck, you’re the opposite of everything he thought when you take his cock into your mouth, bobbing deeper, deeper until you just can’t anymore, jacking the rest of his cock while you kiss and lick and suck at him.

You grab his hand with your free one, and pull it into your hair. You pull up from his cock, and Christ, there’s a line of your spit that connects you to his throbbing tip, and Miguel thinks that he might die. 

“Fuck my face, baby?” you rasp, and yes, that’s it, Miguel is going to fucking die here. But he can’t refuse you, with those gorgeous eyes gazing up at him, the tip of his cock on your tongue. 

It’s not sweet, not at all, when he forces your head down on his cock, pressing himself deep into your pretty little mouth. And you moan like you love it, just taking it as he thrusts roughly into your mouth. Your spit runs down his shaft, your little whimpers and the way you choke when the tip jams into the back of your throat all echoing in his ears. 

He can’t hear himself, but God, you can. You relish the way he growls every time he pushes you down deep, telling you that, “You’re such a good girl, hermosa. Mierda, mi nena perfecta.” Your pussy throbs.

He isn’t soft, isn’t gentle like he told himself to be when he pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air, and Miguel groans as he pulls you up by your hair, dragging your spit-slick lips to his mouth. He can taste himself on your lips, all sticky and hot and puffy. 

You whine against his mouth, murmuring little pleas of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” into him, and his cock twitches, red and aching desperately for your touch. 

“Have to make sure you’re ready,” he mumbles, even though he aches, even though his claws threaten to show. 

“Nononono,” you whine, and then you sit back, hovering over his cock, fucking monstrous compared to the tiny opening of your dripping pussy, and press down.

Fuck, it’s like heaven inside you, all perfect and wet and hot, and you whine, muttering that, “It’s so fucking big, God, stretches me so perfect, so fucking perfect, so much bigger than I could have dreamed-“

“Nena,” he interrupts you with a hoarse groan of his own, “gotta stop, ‘s gonna, gonna hurt you, oh fuck-“ 

And you grin at him again, filthy and raunchy and not sweet at all, as you say “I fucking want it to hurt, Miguel. Wanna feel you in the morning, wanna feel you all the time.” And you press yourself the rest of the way down his thick cock, gasping for air, your hips twitching like they can’t decide whether to run away from the sensation or seek it. 

“Fuck, wanna feel you all the time,” you murmur and Miguel can’t decide whether you’re actually talking to him or not. “Want you to fuck me so hard I can’t breathe, fill me up so fucking perfect, God, oh my God, ‘m so fucking full,” you roll your hips forward in desperate little circles, a weak attempt at getting him deeper. An endless stream of “fuck me, fuck me, please please please,” starts to leave your lips again, and you sound so desperate, so needy, that Miguel can’t help but roll you over, pinning you underneath him, and fucking his cock so hard and so deep into you that you dig your fingers into his back and sob.

He does what you ask that night. He fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, until tears leak from your eyes and your bed is soaked with a mixture of yours and his cum. And God, you scream for him, begging him for more, deeper, harder.

The slick sounds of your bodies meeting over and over must be heard all over the building, but Miguel can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s able to fuck you like this, disgusting and filthy.

How could a sweet, lovely, soft thing like you love this so much?

From that night on, it seems that all bets are off. From that night on, it seems that you make it a mission to show him exactly how not sweet you are.

Fuck, there’s no sweetness to you when you hump your hips into his face the next morning, practically smothering him in your pussy as you squeal and tangle your fingers in his hair. He digs his fingers so hard into your thighs that he’s sure they’ll bruise, and licks up your juices. Your pussy is honey-sweet on his tongue.

You’re not soft when you ride him into the mattress, throwing yourself down onto his cock and moaning as you stretch yourself out. You drag your nails down his chest as you bounce desperately in his lap, and Miguel kind of hopes you draw blood.

There isn’t an ounce of innocence when you sink down on your knees under his desk when he’s in a goddamn meeting, pulling his cock out and sucking at him until his claws shoot out and leave splintering holes in his desk. He has to hide his fangs from the video camera when you choke. 

When he finally, finally cuts the meeting short, feeding the other Spider-Men some bullshit excuse about a new anomaly, he presses your head to the base of his cock and shoots his cum down your throat. He means it as a punishment, but when he pulls you off his cock, and sees you with your eyes all glassy and smiling lazily, he can’t help but bend you over the desk and finger fuck you until you cry and scream and beg for him to fuck you with his cock.

You are so far from sweet when he fucks you on the floor after a mission, tensions run too taut and adrenaline racing through your veins. You throw your ass back onto him with every thrust into your sloppy cunt, moaning as he growls, “Such a fucking slut, can’t get enough of this cock, huh? My sweet, sweet girl, what would the rest of the Spiders say if they knew what a fucking whore you are for me?” 

And when you choke on your spit around your screams, he leans down to whisper that, “I know, cariño, I know. I'm gonna take care of you,” before he shoves your face down into the carpet and mounts you, shoving his fat cock down into you again and again and again.

Miguel is positive that he’s died and gone to heaven.

It’s not to say that you’re not the same, sweet girl who brings cookies to the office and holds his hand. No, you’re the same, perfect, sweet girl, only that you let him thank you for the cookies by eating you out on the kitchen floor. You hold his hand while you jerk his cock and swallow his moans with your kiss.

You’re just the right kind of sweet for him.

[hannieehaee]

How about Joshua with a s/o who always wears baggy clothes and doesnt feel attractive because she doesnt wear revealing ones ?

If u want to write it pls do it only if u are ok with it and feel inspired ♡♡

content: bf!joshua, established relationship, some talk about insecurities, fluff, etc.

wc: 605

a/n: so sorry i took so long to write this!!

masterlist

"hey, babe, have you seen my shirt? you know, the grey one with the loose neck? i thought i- oh."

"huh? what was that?", you asked as you took out an earbud, turning to look at the boy who'd been trying to call your attention.

chuckling, he rounded the kitchen island to reach your side, hands practically attaching to your waist like magnets as he aided you in removing the other earbud, placing both on the counter next to you.

"i was just wondering where my band tee went, but i think i have my answer," he chuckled, pressing a sweet peck to your temple.

"oh, fuck. sorry, josh. do you want it? i can go change," you went to disconnect from him, but he wasnt having it, instead nuzzling his head on your shoulder.

"hm. it smells of my cologne still," he said almost to himself, "you don't have to take it off. i like you in my clothes," he reassured.

you could only scoff.

"your clothes are baggy on me. just like all my other clothes. what difference does it really make?"

joshua shrugged, "just like knowing you're wearing something of mine. you're style's cute. you're cute."

"flattery will get you everywhere, hong," you laughed.

it was one of those nice, domestic moments that occurred every so often. you basked in it, enjoying it before the two of you went back to your regular days.

it wasn't until later that you started to think about what you'd said to joshua earlier.

you did have a tendency to wear baggier clothes. hell, there really was no difference between wearing something of his and a piece of your own. it was incredibly rare for you to show skin or any sort of silhouette, and those instances were really reserved for nights too warm to handle in which you had to opt for some shorts and a tank top.

but even then, you went for looser ensembles. clothes that showed your figure were never really your forte.

you couldn't help but wonder if this ever bothered josh. would he have preferred if your style varied more? what if he thought of you as a prude? maybe he-

"what's got you thinking so loud?", the boy in question interrupted your inner turmoil.

you hadn't realized as you sat in front of your vanity, face wash in hand and still unused, that you'd frozen in place as you thought. his presence in the restroom hadn't registered until he spoke.

"just, uh," you pondered as to whether or not to voice your concerns, but his compassionate smile reflecting on the mirror made you decide, "i was thinking that maybe you'd like it better if i dressed differently? you know, maybe show more skin?"

you voiced it as a question, insecurities building in you as you sought a direct expression of his preferences.

"are you kidding? i like how you dress. and it's not really something that bothers me. you're comfortable and you're beautiful. it's a win-win situation for me," he kind of chuckled as he spoke, finding your question very sudden and unnecessary.

"oh."

you felt a bit dumb now.

"has this been worrying you? you know i'm like obsessed with you, right? you could wear a trash bag and i'd still be as obsessed," he joked, closing in on you similarly to how he'd done earlier in the day.

he finished his statement with a kiss pressed to your lips, humming when you kissed back.

"this just gives me free reign of your closet. i hope you know that," you jested.

"baby, i'm rich. take whatever you want."

[theereina]

Big Mama Pt. 6

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +2.3K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, no smut, use of pet names (Daddy, Mama, lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, b*tch, etc.), fluff, dirty talk, choking, Dom/Sub(brat)~relationship established

A/N: I don't know how many parts there will be. However, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Big Mama Pt. 1 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 2 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 3 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 4 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 5 => 🦋

*Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

“So, where yo’ man at? He still ain't back yet?” asked Monica. We had been on the phone chatting all morning. “I guess on the lake. He's still probably fishing,” I said, leaning against the counter. “Oh, so he out fishing, and you at home being all domestic and shit. Okay, housewife!” Monica laughed. “Shut the hell up,” I laughed.

I had been cooking all morning since Terry left. I packed his lunch in a cooler before making breakfast earlier that morning. “So, we cooking three meals a day now?” she said being messy. “Listen, you messy whore. Stop picking on me,” I said, smacking my lips. I turned back to the stove and stirred the pot of collard greens. “You right! I'll leave you alone,” Monnie said.

I walked to the fridge and pulled out the variety of shredded cheeses I bought. I poured all of them into a glass bowl I placed on the counter. Since it was too soon to cook it, I only wanted to start preparing the macaroni and cheese for now.

“We both know you're lyin’!” I said into the phone. “Girl, it's just crazy seein’ you like this. It's so fuckin' cute. You all soft and shit,” she said giggling. “Whatever!” I yelled back while rolling my eyes. “You and I both know you ain't never did no shit like this. I'm used to Big Mama who be pressin’ niggas. Now, yo’ ass in the house cookin’ for one,” she hollered. I scoffed at her remark. Was I really that down bad?

I opened the oven and checked on the cornbread. The sweet smell of honey wafted through the air. I lightly pressed the top of the bread checking the firmness. I put on an oven mitt and pulled it from the oven. I sat it on a towel on the counter. “Girl, I wish you could see this cornbread. It's beautiful,” I said smiling. “Only you would call cornbread beautiful. Keep teasing me, and imma pull up, bitch. I'll bring my own Tupperware, so don't worry!” she cackled. “So, you just gone show up to eat, then leave?” I asked. “Well, what else am I supposed to do? Y'all too busy playin’ house and shit!” Monnie stated.

“You know what? Fuck you! I'm getting off the phone,” I snorted. “That's right! You betta have Mister’s plate on that table by the time he make it home. Oh, and bring me back a niece or nephew while you at it,” she giggled. “Bye, and it's still fuck you!” I said, hanging up the phone.

At this point, I was floating through the kitchen— mixing Mac and cheese, stirring collard greens, frying and flipping chicken, and whipping up a banana pudding. It felt so good to be in my happy place.

4 hours later ~ around 7 p.m.

Rinsing off the day, Terry was upstairs taking a shower, and I was finishing the final touches for dinner. The mac and cheese was browned to perfection. The collard greens were flavorful and savory. The fried chicken was chef’s kiss. The cornbread smelled like heaven. The banana pudding was just waiting in the fridge. I had outdone myself. Maybe Monnie was right. Was I in my housewife era? Had Terry put me in soft girl mode? Ah, shit!

As I reached to retrieve the plates from the cabinet, I felt something press against my back. “I got it, mama. Let me,” Terry said, reaching over me. “Thank you,” I said, kissing his cheek. He put the plates down on the counter in front of me. “Shit, I didn't realize you had done all this. You really weren't playin’, huh?” Terry asked, wrapping his arms around my waist. He leaned over and started planting small kisses on my neck.

“If you wanna eat, you gotta leave me alone. The plates haven't even hit the table,” I giggled while shrugging my shoulder to get him to stop. “It’s a shame that a man can't have dessert before dinner,” he said, turning me around to face him. He pressed his body against mine and trapped me against the counter. “Terry, you promised to behave. Come on!” I said, pushing my hip towards him. “No, I promised to try. I did. I swear, but you look so damn good,” he said, placing his arms on the counter beside me. I whined and scrunched my face. Did I want to fuck Terry’s brains out? Yes! However, I had also spent all day cooking his favorite meal and dessert.

I folded my arms across my chest. “Ah, mama! Okay, I’m sorry. You’re right. I asked you to cook for me, and you did just that. Thank you, love,” he said pulling me into him. His lips crashed into mine. He held my face in his hands and tilted my head to look him in the eyes. “Forgive me?” he asked flashing that devious smile. This sneaky bastard knew how to get me. “Yes, now move!” I said nudging him away from me.

Terry reached for the plate in front of me. “I said move. Didn't I? That means sit down, Terry!” I said rolling my eyes and laughing. I turned towards the counter, blocking him. “My bad. I don’t know what it is, but you knowin’ yo’ way around a kitchen like this makes me wanna…,” he said backing away from me. “Makes you wanna what?” I questioned as I turned around to look at him. Terry’s eyes lingered on my face and slowly dropped to my abdomen. A smile so sinister spread over his face. “I know damn well you aren’t suggestin’ that. A baby, Terry?” I scoffed while smiling. “I mean… You love me, right?” he asked while sitting at the table.

“First, it was Monnie talkin’ about bring her back a niece or nephew. Now, you! I can't deal with this. Why does everybody want me to get pregnant?” I laughed. “I don't know Monnie’s reasons because I wouldn't trust her to watch a pot of boiling water. However, I know mine, and I have… well,… many,” he said leaning back against the kitchen chair. He raised his arms so that they rested across the back. “And what might those be? Hm? I really wanna know, sir. Tell me,” I said as I turned to the food waiting on the stove.

“Don't worry about it, Mama. Just know I haven't found a reason not to. I'm just waitin' on you,” he said smiling. “Yo’ ass gone be waitin' a long ass time, too. A baby? Terry, you can't be serious!” I squealed. “A long ass time, huh? That's what you think. Imma get one out of you, ‘Vana. Best believe, I'm not gone have to trap you to do it either,” he cackled. “You know what? I'm not doin' this with you!” I said beginning to plate the food.

20 minutes later

“Done, baby?” I asked Terry while standing with my plate in my hand. “Uh,… Yeah,’’ Terry said. “You sound unsure. Baby, I ain't gone ever tell you you can't have more,” I said placing my plate in the sink. Terry’s eyes rose to meet my backside. His eyes lingered on my ass since my back was still turned. “More of what?” Terry asked biting his lip. I could sense a hint of something in his voice. I peeked over my shoulder to see him watching me. I giggled at his antics. “Terry? You know I can see you, right?” I said walking back to the table. I leaned over so that my face was close to his. If this was the game he wanted to play, let’s do it!

“Mmm. Why you playin’ wit’ me, ‘Vana?” he said shifting in his seat. “It’s easy,” I responded. “Oh, really?” he said licking his lips. I could feel his breath on my face. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. I could tell he was becoming more aroused by the second. “You never answered my question, honey. Do you want more?” I asked squatting down in front of him. “And you never answered mine. More of what?’” Terry asked as he leaned up to gently grab my chin. “You want my honest answer?” I asked placing my hands on his knees.

Terry's eyes watched my hands. “Of course, I want honesty, mama. Talk to me,” he said letting his thumb stroke my cheek. “If Daddy wants more, he can have whatever the fuck he wants,” I said trailing my hands up his thighs. Terry’s movements stilled, and his eyes shot up to my face. His eyes clouded with lust and darkened with desire.

Terry’s grip on my chin tightened as he used it to pull me forward. My knees hit the floor so I was kneeling in front of him. I leaned over and let my cheek rest on his growing erection. “Mamas, don't start something you can't finish. If you aren't ready for this, find you something safe to do,” he said. “The fuck is that supposed to mean,” I snapped as I looked up at him. “Aye, watch yourself. You heard me, little girl. I meant what I said,” he said grabbing my chin again. “Me? A little girl? Does someone need a reminder of who the fuck I am?” I asked leaning back on my calves and folding my arms across my chest. “You got one more cuss word before I…,” he said lowering his eyes into slants.

I couldn't believe I was doing this. I was initiating “playtime”. The excitement of the unknown pulsed through my veins. I was about to allow Terry to fully indulge in his needs and wants. I calmed my breathing before looking up at Terry again. “Before you what? You ain't gonna do shit, and we both know it. There ain't shit you can give that I can’t take,” I said fully committing to brat mode.

“You sure you wanna take this route? Once we begin, there's no turning back. You know that, right?” Terry asked leaning over me. His posture had changed and so had his energy. His shoulders were stiff and squared. It was as if his body was blanketing my entire aura and being. I sat for a minute contemplating my next move. How could I outdo myself?

I smiled as a thought crept into my head. I pulled my hands away and placed them in my lap. With the confidence of a goddess, I said, “You created this monster. Deal with it.” Terry's breathing halted before a smirk spread across his face. His hands instantly grabbed a handful of hair at the back of my head. “You got a lotta mouth, lil mama. I don't like that. I don't like it all,” he said tightening his grip. I moaned loudly. I could feel a puddle growing in my panties.

I was fully committed to my role as a brat. I laughed at Terry in an attempt to piss him off. That was having little to no effect on him. I knew I had to make him execute his fantasy to the fullest. I took a deep breath before speaking. “Fuck all that! What you trying to do, huh?” I asked biting my lip and cocking my head to the side.

All sentiments of expression left Terry’s face, and his body grew in anger. His hand quickly left my hair and found my throat. He squeezed tight enough for my breathing to stop. Ironically, all I could think about was how good this felt. My pussy quivered and ached as I released what felt like a mini orgasm. It soaked through my panties as he loosened the grip he had on my throat. “Look at you. Daddy’s little slut. You just couldn't help yourself, huh? That’s fine, mama. Just know this— when we get in that room, I’m gone turn yo thick ass every which way but loose. Don't run. Don't speak. Don't touch shit. It's my turn. Got it?” he said, releasing me with a push.

I looked up at Terry with big doe eyes before speaking again. “Yes, Big Daddy. I understand,” I said while struggling to hide my excitement. “Oh, you think those pretty brown eyes gone help you, huh? Ha! Too late for that. I’m trying to see the monster I created. Bring her out. Fuck all that cute shit!” he said leaning back into the chair. “But…” I started. “Aye, I don't remember asking you to speak. The only thing I want you to do with that there pretty mouth of yours is to suck, lick, slob, swallow, and do it again. You nasty, bitch!” Terry demanded.

As if activated on cue, I could feel the heat between my legs. I wanted this man’s hands all over me. RIGHT THE FUCK NOW! It was Terry’s turn to indulge in his fantasy as a dom. I loved the idea since he would show hints of it sometimes. His only request was not to be easy. He didn't want me to fully submit without any pushback. He liked the idea of me talking shit and provoking him. Terry’s plan involved leaning into a darker side of himself that he had never completely let out, and I trusted him enough to agree to do it. I felt he deserved this moment especially since he didn't judge me about mine.

So, let’s see where tonight takes us.

Taglist: @brattyfics @avoidthings @5headsupremacist @insidefeelingofanadult @creartivefairy @kirayuki22 @nayaesworld @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @ariiijestertheklown @miyuhpapayuh @megamindsecretlair @nayaxwrites @jimmybutlrr @gg-trini @vivaalenaa @slutsareteacherstoo

@skyesthebomb @blowmymbackout @blackerthings @mymindisneverhere @androgynousgaz @becauseimswagman1 @gwenda-fav @poektiou624 @keyaho @pocketsizedpanther @sageispunk

@charismablu @4ftwonder @4pfsukuna @writingsbytee @babybratzmaraj @pinkpantheris @honeytoffee @talkswithdesi

@onherereading @blyffe @beenathembo @helloncrocs @thiccc-c @persethegawd

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: BIG SMUT - fingering, PinV, essentially just a chapter of p*rn

Chapter Word Count: 2997

—-MDNI—-

A/N: basically just a whole chapter of smut. Hope it doesn’t suck ass as it’s 2am an I’ve been trying to proof read for half an hour but fuck knows what I’ve just written. But yeah same as always pls let me know of any errors as I am the only one who proof reads this shit.

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Please read the below first:

Prologue Chapter 1

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8 pt. 1

Chapter 8 pt. 2

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I laid in bed staring at the ceiling, sleep failing to whisk me away. I tossed and turned for several hours; kicking the covers off in frustration before pulling them up to my chin, then kicking them off again before pulling them back up - repeating this horrid cycle until two in the morning. Thoughts kept racing through my mind and I couldn’t get the image of Dean looking at me with those dark lustful eyes out of my head. The way he watched me move around Sam, witnessing how I caressed his younger brother and made him squirm where he sat. I could only dream of what was going through his mind in that moment - of what I hoped he was thinking. Heat prickled my skin and bubbled in the pit of my stomach as I remembered my daydream from earlier; Dean fucking me into his mattress as he held my hips and sought nothing but his own pleasure. A groan left my lips as I threw my covers off and sat up, rubbing my temples in a weak attempt to dismiss my attraction to the obnoxious man wreaking havoc in my mind. I placed my feet on the cold floor and stood up, deciding a glass of cold water was the best remedy for whatever it was that I was feeling. I rubbed my eyes as I padded towards my bedroom door, tugging on the old T-shirt that barely covered my behind. I grasped the handle and opened the door, jumping in surprise at the sight of Dean leaving his room. A startled noise left my lips as I placed a hand on my chest, not expecting to see him standing there.

“Shit, Dean, you scared the crap out of me.” In response Dean mumbled a half hearted apology, taking a step closer to me.

“What are you doing up? It’s late, you should be in bed.”

“What are you, my dad?” I scoffed, not sure how to feel about the reprimanding. He held his hands up in defence, only bowing his head slightly, not saying anything else. I sighed.

“I just can’t sleep; I’ve been tossing and turning for hours but no luck. I was just on my way to get a glass of water.”

“You didn’t think to put any more clothes on?” He asked, and it looked like he was trying desperately not to look me up and down as his eyes wouldn’t leave mine.

“I’m sorry - how many people do you run into at TWO AM? I wasn’t expecting company,” I tugged more on the bottom of my T-shirt, trying harder to cover up what little dignity I had left in front of Dean Winchester. All of a sudden we were stood in total silence, neither of us knowing what to say as we now avoided eye contact and I played with the hem on my shirt. We stayed like this for a few awkward moments before I opened my mouth to say something right as Dean decided to speak.

“I can’t get you out of my head, (Y/n).”

My eyes snapped up to meet his, and there was an almost pained look about his face that was hard to place in the dim lighting. My mouth opened and closed a few times, not knowing what words to pick. Luckily for me, Dean kept talking.

“That shit you pulled earlier - the way you… danced… for Sam - made me genuinely jealous of my own brother. I mean come on, we’ve already done the deed, why didn’t you pick me?”

“Because how would you have known how good I was if you couldn’t see everything?”

He thought for a second before tilting his head and raising his eyebrows in agreement.

“You’ve got me there.”

“I know what I’m doing, Winchester.”

“You sure do sweetheart,” Dean stepped closer to me, closing the already short distance between us with those forest-green eyes not leaving mine. Our chests were almost touching as his gaze started flicking between my eyes and my lips. I watched as his own lips parted and he chewed on his bottom lip as if deep in thought, his eyes growing darker by the second. My heart started to race and the atmosphere turned thick. What was he thinking about? Why did he have to look at me the way he did - like he wanted to devour me - the intensity of his gaze increasing by the second and making me warm both inside and out. Not another thought ran through my mind when my back thumped against my bedroom door and Deans lips descended on my own - hot and hurried. His large arms circled my waist, rough palms caressing every inch of my back, waist and ass like he was searching for the best place to grip onto - to dig his fingers into my soft skin. I pulled on his hair, bringing his face and body closer to mine, wanting to feel every muscled inch of him press against me.

I released one hand from his hair and reached back, fumbling around the door looking for the handle, soon finding it and twisting. The door swung open and we stumbled in, too wrapped up in every fibre of each other to pay much attention to anything else. Dean kicked the door closed, reluctant to release me from his grasp and his lips still on mine as he hastily backed me towards my bed; my knees hitting the mattress and I tumbled down onto my back, pulling him with me. He gripped me with one strong arm and lifted me further up the bed so I was in a more comfortable position - my head now resting on the pillow and my hair fanning around me. His lips were so soft on mine, his stubble occasionally scratching my chin when his lips parted further and his tongue hesitantly skimmed mine. The action was slow, as if he was testing the waters. I couldn’t stop the moan from leaving my lips at the feeling of him in my mouth and the sheer intimacy of the action, wrapping my arms over his shoulders and surrendering my mouth to him. I subconsciously pulled him closer, my knees parting without a second thought and his hips dipped down, allowing me to feel every well-sculpted muscle in his abdomen and thighs - including the hardness growing in those loose pyjama pants. The ever so familiar sensation of my own arousal began brewing like a storm; twisting in the pit of my stomach with excitement and anticipation. Electric jolts shot through me every time he pressed into my most sensitive area, making my legs twitch involuntarily as breathy gasps escaped me. His mouth quickly left mine and trailed down my throat before he sat up, pulling himself from my grasp. His evergreen eyes, black with desire that pierced into mine with white hot lust held my gaze, and I fought to stop my eyes rolling into the back of my head from the way he looked at me. Without missing a beat he pulled his black T-shirt over his head and threw it to the floor, holding himself above me as I let myself admire him - trailing my gaze over every inch of exposed skin, lingering on his tattoo. I reached up and traced my fingers over it, feeling him shiver and groan at my gentle touch, his head dropping into the crook of my neck. With one hand he reached down, those rough fingers delicately slipping into my underwear and circling that sensitive button, making my legs twitch even more than before. He went around and around, tauntingly avoiding contact with it before a desperate whimper slipped from my lips. He smirked like the Devil himself before he finally indulged me, pressing his fingertips expertly to the tender mound, undoing me in a way that I’ve never been undone before. He leaned down as his ministrations continued, pressing soft kisses to my moaning lips. My head tilted back into my pillow as that recognisable feeling in the pit of my stomach began to twist tighter and tighter, my nails digging into Deans shoulders, leaving behind little crescent moon-shaped indents in his skin. My breathing increased and I was right on the edge of bliss when out of nowhere he stopped, the pleasure disappearing in an instant. However before I even had a chance to complain he’d slid two thick fingers inside me with ease, drawing a gasp from my chest. He pumped in and out a few times, teasingly pressing on the hidden cushion of over-sensitive flesh that was hidden deep inside, making me writhe underneath him. It wasn’t hidden to Dean though, no, he knew EXACTLY what he was looking for. Once again this pleasure was short lived as he pulled his fingers out, leaving me cold and empty on the inside. On the outside however I was red hot as I watched the older Winchester stick his fingers in his mouth, circling his tongue around them as he sucked my essence from his digits, not missing a single drop. My heart flipped when he spoke in a low, husky voice.

“Delicious - just like last time.”

Heat spread like wildfire over my cheeks as I blushed furiously, not knowing how to deal with the sexual expertise of this incredibly objectionable man. He placed his hands on my thighs, my knees almost gripping his hips in anticipation.

“Are you ready princess?” He asked, his voice smooth and frustratingly calm, except for his chest rising and falling rapidly with supposedly eager breaths.

“Yes- Dean please-”

In a single beat he pulled himself out of his pants and slid inside me with ease, stretching me as he made every inch disappear. My eyes rolled and my mouth was agape, a pornstar-grade moan unintentionally leaving my lips and making Dean quiver.

“Fuck- (Y/n) don’t squeeze me like that darlin or I won’t last long…” he breathed out, all calmness from his voice now gone.

“I-I’m not doing anything- I swear,” I almost squeak out as he lowers himself over me again, one hand dropping next to my head to support himself as the other gripped my thigh pulling it around him. It was his turn for his eyes to roll.

“Lord have mercy…” he muttered out under his breath, slowly moving his hips, thrusting in and out, in and out, over and over and over again. He was ever so gentle at first, but that soon changed when his own pleasure was there to be chased and gentle thrusting turned to mind-melting pounding. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, his mouth occasionally pressing into the curve of my neck as my lips rested near his ear, my soft moans going straight to his brain. I started to feel sweat pepper his skin, his breathing heavy as his motions became even more rapid and uneven. He was right - he wouldn’t last long. I unwound my arms and placed my palms on his chest and pushed, taking him by surprise. He stopped his pounding and I could feel him flex inside me, bringing a gasp from my lips before I could get my words out. I refocused, his attention on me unwavering.

“Get on your back.”

I didn’t have to tell him twice as he flipped over with ease, pulling out of me for a second and taking my spot on the bed. I flung my leg over him and lowered myself down on him with zero hesitation, hating the cold feeling of emptiness. Deans hands worked on their own as they grabbed the soft flesh on my thighs, his fingers digging in as he groaned in pleasure. His head went back in the pillow, his eyes shut and jaw slack as I started to move, rocking back and forth, his hands softly guiding me. My fingers pushed into his chest as I steadied myself, and he seemed unphased by my weight in his state of ecstasy. I moaned, unable to stop myself from chasing my own pleasure as I looked down at him, loving that I was the one making him lose his mind in bliss. He opened his eyes, lids still hooded as he gazed up, watching me ride him like there was no tomorrow. For a moment his hands left my thighs, reaching up and tugging on the old T-shirt I was wearing.

“Take this shit off,” he growled, helping me discard the item. I lifted it over my head and tossed it to the floor with his garment, dishevelling my hair in the process.

“Better?” I asked, now completely bare to his burning gaze.

“Fuck yes,” he breathed, hands sliding up my stomach to caress the underside of my breasts, sliding a thumb over the silky smooth skin as his palms rested on my ribs. I rocked against him harder, feeling my own wetness on my thighs and mixing with my sweat. In this position it was like his cock was in my throat - he felt so deep, so engulfed by me I felt I could never let him go. I’d never felt so full in my life, it was borderline uncomfortable but I couldn’t get enough - it was intoxicating. HE was intoxicating. The smell of leather and gunpowder on his skin, the taste of beer on his lips and the silky smooth scars that dotted his otherwise perfect body was a drug in itself. I don’t even know if I truly hated him. Especially when he was here giving me the best sex of my life. I’d fuck this mans brains out everyday if I could. If he’d let me.

It didn’t take long for my impending climax to appear on the horizon. It bubbled, almost boiling as I rocked harder, faster, more desperately than before, making the bed creak and the headboard knock against the wall. Deans grip on my ass was assisting my motions as I started to lose control over the sounds tumbling from my lips - the name.

Dean.

I could see the desperation seeping into him as his rhythm started faltering, throwing me off for a split second before we found unison again. My nails dug into his chest once more, Dean totally unphased and too overwhelmed with pleasure to even care. My own pleasure turned to Earth shattering ecstasy as the buildup dropped and the cord snapped - wave, after wave, after wave of euphoria crashed around me, making my eyes roll and toes curl; legs trembling either side of Dean as I moaned his name - temporarily forgetting all other words. Clenching around Dean, it sent shockwaves through him that brought him to his own release, his grip painful on my delicate skin as he came undone with my name on his lips. I instantly felt warmth seep down the inside of my thigh, and the thought of being completely filled to the brim by him made my heart flutter. Dean trembled beneath me, both of us slowing down as we came down from our synchronised highs. After a few quiet moments of nothing but heavy breathing, he was the first to speak up.

“Ahh fuck, (Y/n)…. What the fuck was that?” He ran a hand through his hair.

I tilted my head in confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“THAT,” he said pausing to catch his breath, looking up at me with eyes as black as coal, “was one of the most intense moments of my life,” he propped himself up onto his elbows so we were now almost eye to eye. I couldn’t help but giggle.

“I hope that’s a good thing?”

“Damn right.”

We stared at each other, clarity returning through the sexual fog, and strangely, regret was nowhere to be found. Deans tongue darted out and wet his lips, and I gnawed on my bottom lip almost nervously. He was still here. Unmoving. Why didn’t he leave?

Why didn’t I WANT him to leave?

We sat in peaceful silence as I stayed on his lap, Dean making no effort to move even though he had started to soften inside me, letting the mess leak out and drip down my thighs and over his hips. I’d have to change the bedsheets before sleeping. Deans eyes were returning to their usual mossy green, his gaze gentle on my figure for the first time since we’d met.

“I should probably get off - let you get back to your room,” I said, my eyes not leaving his, my tone lacking.

“Yeah… I should really let you sleep…” Deans voice was the same as mine. We looked at each other for a few more minutes before we both leaned forwards, Deans fingers threading ever so gently through my hair and I placed my hands on his bare chest, feeling his heartbeat thrum beneath my fingertips. His lips were as soft as silk as they pressed on mine - a great contrast to the bruising make out session earlier. He kissed me with a tenderness I didn’t know he could muster, and it made my heart flutter something crazy. His mouth moved on mine, as soft and warm as a summers breeze and I didn’t want it to end. Eventually he pulled away, a smile on his lips.

“Sweetheart you really need to sleep,” his voice held a kindness I’m sure wasn’t for me.

“I…umm…” I paused and looked away, fighting with myself about whether I should even say what’s in my mind. I decided to be bold, fighting the blush rising from deep within.

“Dean, I don’t want you to go…”

He stared at me, and for the first time ever a pink glow adorned his masculine features. He was still. Very still, and I was starting to scold myself for being weird and out of character. It didn’t take much longer for him to reply.

“Well let's get you cleaned up and head to my room - we can sort your sheets out in the morning.”

——————————————————————

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[samalong1]

How you get slashers to do the dishes

Ft jason voorhees brahms heelshire sawyer brothers Thomas hewitt Freddy krueger pinhead yautja and Beetlejuice

Jason voorhees

He was raised to be a good boy and help with household chores

He probally woudnt automatically do them without you he woudnt give cleanliness a 2nd thought

But you fluttering your eyelashes and asking him please will get him on it

Pls don't yell at him to do it he'll still do them but he'll get all scared

Probally likes doing them with you reminding him of helping his mom with the dishes makes him feel nostalgic

Would wear a frilly apron if you ask nicely

Brahms heelshire

Much harder

Spoiled boy

You don't ask him you make him

Won't throw a tamptrum but he'll be all huffy and moody

Do it with it ask him to help you and praise him for being so helpful

If you withhold kisses or affection for not doing them then he'll throw a tamptrum

Won't wear the frilly apron

Freddy krueger

Your dreaming and banging the dude in control of your dreams and you dream of dirty dishes

If it's some weird household domestic fantasy he'd still give you the side eye

Judges you for dreaming of dirty dishes

Hit em with a broom if you really want him to

Don't even try with the frilly apron

Nubbins sawyer

Don't he'd smash them while laughing then ask if he did good

Probably would wear the frilly apron for a second before ripping it off

Bubba

Please don't he's clumsy and will break them and then turn to you looking like a sad puppy that he failed you

Pls make him wear the frilly apron

He'd wear it even if you didn't mention ot

He may be shit at chores but loves wearing the apron and makeup mask pretending to be your housewife while giggling and stimming happy to have fun like this

Chop top

He'd just tap his head and go "still got a nice clean playe here" and walk off proud of his joke

Drayton sawyer

This old cranky man already running a buisness,making sure his younger brothers don't get them caught or do some stupid bullshit,cooked all the food,and making sure things run smoothly

He'd bring up how hard he works and how he had to raise three boys on his own after grandpa got to old how hard he works to keep the lights on

He won't even be guiltiling you after a bit he'd just be ranting and venting like your his therapist

After he got all that off his chest he'd just yell at you to stop being lazy and how everyone has their work and they better do it

He doesn't care your smooching him

Pls get him therapy

Thomas hewitt

Luda mae does the dishes anyway

You probally do aswell to contribute to the house since hoyt won't let ya laze around

But if you want help just tell him how much they piled out and how it's overwhelming and he'll help he won't do it on his own

If you want to give luda mae a break just tell hik how hard she's working to support everyone and how caring she is and how much she'd love it if her baby boy did the dishes and he'd be at the sink quickly

Woudnt wear the apron don't even ask

Pinhead

Your fucking a cenobite you probably aren't in any landscape that has a kitchen with dirty dishes

Beetlejuice

If he wants anything like you to say his name or do some weird sex thing just be like "hmm I dunno you haven't really helped out lately" or how your to busy with the dishes for it

If he still refuses just whack him with a broom

You can get him to wear a apron by wracking him with the broom

Yautja

New to Ooman chores

The dishes are so tiny against his hands

He'd break them and then get frustrated je isn't doing his precious ooman's task correctly

He'd break a few dishes and then either rage or sulk

Possibly get him to wear a frilly apron

[areyouwell]

Thanatophobia

Noun: An extreme and irrational fear of losing somebody you love. Children or adults with this condition tend to steer clear of any form of relationship, haunted by the possibility it could be ripped away from them.

Ch.6

Ch.5,5, Ch.5, Ch.4, Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <--

Paring: Logan Howlett x Mutant!F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, explicit content, brief description of rape, extremely fucked up timelines cuz i can't do maths but just like, go with it? for me? pls?

Word Count: 13k

A/N: whew boy was this chapter tricky. not to go into too much detail about my personal life but i actually managed to trigger myself writing this so please please please be aware that this could be difficult to read if you're an SA/Rape survivor cuz yeesh... was this tough

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Settling into your new life hadn’t been as difficult as you’d thought. Perhaps it was because you’d spent the last two years away, but you didn’t miss the mansion as much as you thought you would. Sure, you missed Kitty randomly barging into your room, and you sincerely hoped someone had explained to her at least some of what was going on, but the feeling faded fairly quickly within the first few weeks. You and Logan fell into routine domesticity a little too easily. He taught the correct way to aim a hunting rifle, nestling the butt of the gun into the nook between your shoulder and chest. He taught you how to follow deer tracks, what to look out for when estimating how far away the game is, and which tracks not to follow under any circumstances.

You, on the other hand, started teaching him a passion you’d forgotten you’d had until you found yourself with too much time on your hands. Or at least, a passion you’d forgotten was planted in your memory… was it your passion, or just a passion you thought was yours? Every time thoughts such as these rose to the forefront of your mind, you tried to push them away. They never yielded any answers and just served to send you spirally. Logan usually caught your faraway stares, the way your eyes glazed over as you dissociated back into your mind. He’d bring you back with a gentle call of your name, hands tilting your chin up to look into his eyes. 

The first time you’d slid your sketchbook across the dining room table, Logan’s eyes welled up slightly. Sure, he’d stolen glances at you whilst you huddled on the window seat bench, charcoal staining your fingertips black as you elegantly swiped it across the paper, but he had no idea you were sketching him. When you’d asked him what he thought, he couldn’t find the right words and ended up with you perched on the kitchen counter, his head between your thighs, pouring his awestruck gratitude into eating you out. Since then, you both took time out of your days to sit with each other and you taught him everything you knew. As it turned out, he wasn’t half bad. At least, that’s what you exclaimed with a slightly insulting amount of surprise in your voice. He’d always brush off your praise, comparing his work to yours, but he couldn’t deny the pride that bloomed in his chest.

Logan had learnt not to ask after your well-being too often, finding that you would huff in irritation if he mentioned it more than once a day and remind him that you weren’t that mentally unstable. After a month of settling in, you’d mutually decided to start training again, heading out into the woods a little ways and finding a safe, exclusive spot on the lake shore. Plenty of shadows around between the tree line and the water, it was perfect. Though, not that it made much of a difference. The progress you made was second to none, barely managing to make the darkness shift a fraction before you’d grit your teeth and attempt to stamp down your frustration. 

The days grew colder as the months went by, leaves fading from lush, vibrant greens to crinkled, burning oranges before dropping altogether, coating the ground in a blanket of crunchy fire. It was your favourite season, autumn. The sweet scent of mulch wreathed your senses with every kick of the chilly breeze as you stepped from the warm cabin thankful you’d donned a knitted scarf around your neck, two mugs clasped in your hands. Amongst the many other things Logan had taught you, how to make the best cups of hot chocolate may be, in your opinion, the most useful. Small marshmallows melted atop the surface of the drink as your boots crunched along the gravel, eyes drinking in the sight before you.

He was made for this life. Leather jacket discarded atop a stack of logs, he’d rolled the sleeves of his brown flannel shirt up to his elbows, the hood of the truck propped open and his head ducked far into the depths of the engine. You mentioned you thought the spark plugs were going a few days ago, but he brushed off your concerns. It wasn’t until he’d received a call from the local garage about a bike part he’d requested and he went to leave that morning did he realise you were right after the truck misfired almost instantly. You tried not to be too smug about it.

“How’s it going?” Logan looked back as he heard your voice and approaching footsteps, withdrawing from the depths of the hood and swiping his hands on the dirty rag over his shoulder. A warm smile pulled at his lips as he saw what you were carrying, and he thanked you with a quick kiss, taking the mug you’d offered to him. 

“Well. you were right,” you pursed your lips as you tried not to smirk wildly, failing miserably when he rolled his eyes. “Yeah alright. ‘Scuze me for asusmin’ you didn’t know what you were talkin’ about. Anyway,” he continued pointedly and you giggled lightly. “Todd rang, he’s on his way with a few replacement plugs, since the damn thing won’t even start now. The good news is, he’s bringing the bike part with him, so we could get that goin’ this afternoon.” He raised the marshmallowy mug to his lips, humming pleasantly as he tasted his own hot chocolate recipe you’d followed. 

Your eyes lit up at his words. He’d been working on the bike hidden in the small barn since you’d arrived here six months ago, making its restoration his little personal project. He’d spoken to Todd before about acquiring replacement parts and had slowly been fixing up the motorcycle with each trip to the garage. All he needed now was the replacement brake calliper and it would be good to go. “I would have made a third mug if I knew Todd was coming round. That’s amazing though, crazy to think it’s taken this long.” You cradled the steaming mug with both hands, blowing slightly on the warm liquid before taking a long sip, licking at the remains left on your upper lip.

“I know right?” he agreed, tucking you against his side with an arm around your shoulders. “Startin’ to think I should have asked you for help since you can recognise a blown spark plug from a single misfire,” you snorted a laugh into your drink.

“Yeah well, in my completely fabricated past, I trained as a mechanic for a bit so I know a thing or two.”

“You’re only tellin’ me this now?”

“It didn’t seem important at the time!” You held your hands up in defence, your fingers still hooked around the handle of your warm mug. Logan rolled his eyes, unable to tame his disobedient smile. 

“You’re a pain in my ass, ya know that?” He set his half-full mug next to his jacket on the stack of logs, taking yours and setting it down as well all so he could pick you up in his arms, your legs instantly circling around his waist, his hands settling on your thighs. Your fingers threaded through the soft strands at the back of his head as you looked down at him, your eyes dancing with mischief.

“Me? Little ol’ me? I’m heartbroken,” nothing about your current body language suggested anything of the sort, your faux innocence only serving to confirm his suspicions. 

“Bet it’s just eatin’ you up inside, huh?” Sarcasm dripped from his tone and you threw your head back as you laughed, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck before you looked back down at him, wasting no time in taking his lips captive with your own, giggling into the kiss when he bit gently on the soft flesh of your upper lip. You inhaled a sharp gasp through your nose when he smoothed over the small hurt with his tongue, feeling your core respond to his actions, your blood heating with every languid brush of his lips against yours, every slight nibble of his teeth.

Logan groaned softly at the scent of your arousal building, his skin tingling as you returned every nip of his teeth with one of your own, sandwiching his lower lip between your front teeth and tugging slightly. Your hands returned to his hair, twirling the longer strands between your fingers and pulling tight. Todd’s imminent arrival forgotten, Logan swiped at the hood prop, slamming the lid shut and setting your down so his hands could roam up your waist to your breasts, kneading and groping at your tits over your hoodie. 

His lips dragged a trail of soft bites down the side of your neck, his fingers deftly popping open the button of your jeans and pulling down your zipper, his entire hand disappearing down between your damp thighs, his fingertips grazing across the centre of your slick core over your underwear. He growled in response to your whimper, tugging the crotch of your briefs to one side and sliding the back of his finger up over your clit. 

“So wet for me, what got you goin’, hm? ‘S it that book? Did they finally fuck? Make you miss me, hm?” He’d caught glances of you in the window, lip caught between your teeth as you devoured the pages in front of you, your legs crossed tightly. He’d laughed to himself at the time, but now he wanted to show you what the real world could offer. 

You went to bite back at his condescending tone, opening your mouth only to inhale an embarrassing gasp as one of his thick fingers slid inside you, pumping and curling in the ways he knew would have you creaming in minutes. Your nails sank into his forearm, mouth dropping open as hot pleasure coursed through your veins. Humiliatingly enough, it was exactly why you’d come out to see him. The two characters in the book you were reading finally put aside their differences and realised they loved each other in a passionate display of tender fucking. And yeah, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think of Logan at the time. But this wasn’t what you were expecting at all.”

“Logan!” you cried out to the blue skies as your head fell back the moment a second finger slipped inside your aching heat, your walls clamping down against his digits as if he would ever try to escape. With his one free hand, Logan dragged your jeans and underwear down just far enough to slip beneath them between your legs, keeping your knees over his shoulder as he pushed you back against the windshield. You clutched at the wipers as he rubbed his nose against your clit, moaning wantonly at the scent of your liquid nectar. 

His tongue darted out to swipe a long line up the centre of your core, using his fingers to provoke more of your slick to drip down the apex of your thighs for him to drink like a man parched of water. Your hips bucked with each stroke of his tongue, gasping a pitched whimper of his name as his lips wrapped around your sensitive pearl and sucked until you screamed at the heavens above you, your orgasm splitting every nerve in your body with each slow caress of his fingertips against that delicious bundle of nerves nestled two knuckles inside you. 

Your nails scratched against the hood of the truck, flaking off the paint job as wave after wave of your high crashed through your mind and body, your spine arching your hips further against his face as you ground against his tongue before the pleasure spiked into overstimulation and you squirmed away from his fingers, panting desperately. 

“That’s my girl, y’allright?” he soothed, pressing soft kisses to the scar on your inner thigh, cringing in second-hand pain as the back of your head smacked the windscreen behind you, your tensed, shaking muscles finally relaxing. “Y’okay!?”

You giggled, still a little dazed from your orgasm, your hand lazily feeling the slight numbness at the back of your head, simply making sure you hadn’t cracked it open, or at the very least, split the skin. But you felt no blood. “Yeah, ‘m all good. But if you don’t fuck me on the hood of this truck I might pass away– whaaat’re you doing?” You asked as he ducked out from between your legs, pulling your underwear and trousers back up over your knees and to your waist.

“I’ll start makin’ funeral arrangements then. Todd’s here.” You didn’t miss his growl of discomfort, and your heart bled for him a little, knowing he was going to have to go the next god knows how long hard as a rock in his jeans. Pulling up the zipper and fastening the button at your navel, you hopped off the truck just as Todd’s beaten old 4x4 trundled through the tree line. He was one of the only people who knew you were even here, apparently, he was a friend of the previous owner and knew Logan fairly well. The two hadn’t kept in touch, but he’d given him a firm handshake when he first took the pickup truck to his garage.

Retrieving the two mugs of now slightly cooled chocolate, Logan smiled gratefully as he once again took the mug from you, placing a kiss to your brow as he held up an arm of greeting to Todd. The older man stepped from the car, slamming the door shut, a ziplock bag of spark plugs grasped in his broad hand. He had a thick, greying beard bushing proudly along his chin and jaw, bridging across his upper lip. A full head of salt and pepper hair slicked back from his brow, tied into a small bun at the back of his head. You couldn’t deny that he most definitely would have been a lady's man back in his prime, with deep-set blue eyes and a smile crisp as winter frost? You could definitely have seen yourself falling for his charms.

It seemed you had a thing for bearded men. And Logan also seemed to have noticed. He raised a brow as he looked at you out of his peripheral. “Stop eyeing up my mechanic.” He elbowed you lightly and you snorted a laugh.

“Not my fault,” your tone was hushed as you watched Todd head into the backseat of his car, retrieving the new brake calliper for Logan’s bike. “Clearly I like older men.” You sent him a wink and he rolled his eyes, smirking against his better judgement. 

“What’ve you done to ‘er then? And I don’t mean to yer girl ‘ere.” Todd strode over with the self-assurance of a gold medal athlete, a winning smile parting his bearded lips to reveal bright white teeth. You flipped your hair over your shoulder, stepping forward to embrace the man who planted a kiss on your cheek. “Hello, gorgeous. He lookin’ after ya properly?” His faux seriousness had you casting a cheeky glance back at Logan, who narrowed his eyes in response. 

“He’s doing his best.” You whispered loudly behind your hand, and Todd nodded in an exaggerated display of understanding. 

“I’ll ‘ave a word with ‘im, don’t you worry.” He winked at you and you placed your hand against your heart dramatically, pretending to faint as Todd turned from you to Logan, who folded his arms across his chest with a thick brow raised. But he couldn’t keep up his irritated façade for long. It was a tradition ever since the two of you started visiting the garage frequently for Logan’s bike. Todd would flirt with you relentlessly, Logan would pretend to get irate about it for all of thirty seconds before breaking into a wide grin and firmly clasping the man in an embrace. And this time was no different, a solid clap to Todd’s back was all that was needed for you to know this wasn’t the time the men fought it out. The first time you’d visited, you genuinely thought Logan was going to slice his head clean off the second Todd looked your way. But he just stood back with an amused, almost proud smirk as you were flirted with relentlessly. It took you completely off guard at first, but now you were more than happy to go along with it. 

“Didn’t surprise me, it’s an old truck,” you heard Logan explain as you returned from your memories, stepping up to lean against the raised hood of the pickup, your arms crossed against your chest, gesturing to the engine with the mug in your hand.

“Think the oil needs changing too. The mileage counter was going crazy the other day and I only went out to the corner shop. I checked the oil level when I got back and nothing was wrong so I think it’s most likely carbon buildup. Like Lo’ said, it’s an old truck.” The two men stared at you in disbelief as if knowing how to check the oil on a car wasn’t something they expected from you. You flipped them both off. “Oh fuck off the pair of you, I was the one to notice the faulty spark plugs thank you very much.” You placed a defensive hand on your hip, and Todd looked from you to Logan next to him.

“That true?” he asked with a bushy brow raised. 

Logan released a long sigh, offering a low, reluctant “Yep…” 

There was a beat before Todd howled with laughter, his hand clasping Logan’s shoulder with a loud clap. “Said it before an’ I’ll say it again, you got yerself a keeper ‘ere Logan. A woman who looks this good in jeans and knows ‘er way ‘round an engine? Tie ‘er down ‘fore someone else does.” Todd sent you a wink and you blew a kiss back at him. “C’mon then, gotta fix yer bike ‘fore I tackle this hunk o’ metal. Unless missy mechanic over ‘ere would like to do the honours?” he raised a brow and you held up your hands to decline. 

“Cars I can do. Bikes are totally foreign to me, so you lead the way,” you gestured for him to head to the barn, which he did but not before offering you a chivalrous bow. You rolled your eyes as he turned away, falling into step next to Logan who slipped a hand to your waist. You elbowed him slightly. “See? I’m a keeper.” you shot him a shit-eating grin and he pursed his lips in a feeble attempt to suppress his smile.

“‘M stuck with you either way,” he shrug in mock nonchalance, and you poked his ribs.

“You like being stuck with me.”

“Shut up.” He breathed, smothering your face into the crook of his arm, muffling your maniacal cackles as the two of you followed Todd into the barn, watching as he pulled off the tarp sheltering the bike from any leaks in the roof. 

“You’ve done ‘er up somethin’ great, Logan. Lookin’ good as new.” Todd patted the back fender the same way you would a horse you were proud of. Logan just grunted in acknowledgement, being truly terrible at receiving compliments. 

“Think we can get her up and runnin’ today?” Logan asked, glancing as once again your eyes lit up. It had been since months ago since he promised to take you out on that date, and he wanted to stay true to his word. Todd nodded thoughtfully as if contemplating how realistic that was.

“We can certainly give it a go. If you an’ the missus wanna change those spark plugs I can start on replacin’ this break calliper and we can go from there.” You suppressed a grin at being referred to as Logan’s ‘missus’, a giddy spark pepped up your step as Todd tossed the ziplock bag to Logan who caught it in one hand. 

“Sounds good. Absolutely no way I’m leavin’ you two alone together.” You snorted a laugh at Logan’s slight grumble, sending Todd a flirtatious wave as he steered you back out of the barn and towards the pickup. “Unbelievable…” he shook his head fondly as you all but skipped over to the hood of the car, removing what Logan only now realised was his jacket and rolling up the shirt sleeves of his flannel. Not that he was about to complain, but he must have been too caught up in your cunt earlier to notice.

Leaning into the hood of the truck, you peered around the side of the engine, finding the six plugs you needed to change. With deft fingertips you twisted the wire boot of the first plug instead of just yanking it free, a trick you’d picked up when you’d…

Oh yeah. That never happened. A trick they’d planted in your brain, you guessed. You extended a hand out behind you, barely needing to open your mouth before the socket spanner was placed firmly in your grasp. You looked over your shoulder at Logan who’d returned to leaning against the large pile of wood to his right, smirking shamelessly at your ass as you bent over the engine. You grinned, making a show of rolling your eyes, before returning back to the task at hand, unscrewing the first spark plug from the well. Discarding the old part to the floor, you accumulated a small pile of six faulty plugs when you’d removed them all.

Stepping back from inside the hood, you wiped a small bead of sweat from your brow with your oil-slicked hand, leaving a dark smudge just above your eyebrow. Logan handed you the ziplock bag, his smirk ceaseless. “I ain’t gonna pretend this isn’t the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.” He shrugged when you sent him a questioning look before bubbles of laughter rose from your chest.

“Now look who’s the freak.” You shot back with an equally wicked smirk, before eyeing up the toolbox to his left. “You got a torque wrench in there? Todd might have one actually–”

“Todd is not seein’ you like this, he’ll lose his damn mind. The man already worships the ground at your feet.” Logan rifled quickly through the toolbox as if speed would prevent you from heading back up to the barn and giving the poor mechanic a love-induced heart attack. 

“And why shouldn’t he? I’m a keeper, dontcha know?” You responded haughtily, raising your chin with a dignity you couldn’t possibly hope to possess with your face smudged with engine oil. Logan barked a laugh, tossing you the torque wrench from the box and watching as you returned to your mission, fitting the new plugs in the wells and using the torque when you couldn’t tighten the screw any further with your fingers.

Logan slotted his hands in the dip of your waist, his front pressed against your back as he bent over you, teeth catching the sensitive skin behind your ear. “You’re a keeper, sweetheart. And you’re mine.” his breath fanned your ear as he growled lowly, the outline of his hard cock grinding against the seam of your ass as his hands pulled you against him slightly. 

You gasped airily, teeth clamping down on your lower lip. “You been hard this whole time?” You asked, struggling to focus on fitting the remaining plugs as he trailed one of his hands down your front and between your thighs. He just released a gravelly moan in response as you pushed back into his crotch, moving your hips in a slow circle. Logan bucked with a sharp gasp, nipping at your earlobe. 

“Not my fault. I got this gorgeous new mechanic. She’s hot as fuck and you wanna know the best thing about her?” Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as he rubbed your clit over your jeans, eyes fluttering closed as a smile split your mouth.

“What would that be?”

Logan inhaled your scent, a mixture of engine oil, wood smoke and sweet arousal, his fingers tightening on your waist. “She lets me do whatever I want to her after she changes my spark plugs.” It was a blackened promise filled with swirling lust, sucking the vow of pleasure into a bruise on the side of your neck before withdrawing completely to lean back against the stack of firewood, giving the both of you room to catch your breath.

You had to shake your head of the daze he’d left you in before you could continue, agile fingers reconnecting the ignition leads before you stepped away from the hood completely, swiping at your cheek with your forefinger and leaving yet another dark, greasy smudge. 

“The oil still needs changing but at least we won’t be getting anymore misfires. At least, we shouldn’t.” You wiped your hands on the dirty rag still draped over his shoulder and he licked his thumb, rubbing at the dark smudge above your brow but to now avail. You waved him off, ducking out from his fussing with a look of irritation. “Alright, Dad, I’ll clean myself up later, Christ.” You folded your arms across your chest, before remembering exactly why he wanted to get rid of the smudges, and snorting a laugh. 

“His blood is on your hands if he keels over at the sight of you.” Logan shrugged just as Todd emerged from the barn, wheeling the good-as-new bike along with him.

“A’ight Logan, she should be all ready for ya. Though I’d take ‘er steady to start, I don’t–” The man stopped the second his eyes shifted to you, and he clutched his heart dramatically. “Oh my lord this is it, I’ve seen the light! An angel! Here! Standin’ before me!” He sank to his knees and you chuckled madly, Logan shaking his head in disappointment. “Oh, nope, beggin’ yer pardon. It’s just yer girl.” Todd stood, dusting off his knees and sending you yet another wink, clearly having heard Logan’s comment. “Well, that’s me all finished up then. Comes to around fifty dollars.”

You and Logan exchanged a glance of knowing. You were both well aware Todd had been giving you both discounted prices. Hell, just getting the spark plugs replaced was around eighty, and he was only charging you fifty for both the plugs and the brake calliper? You and Logan had prepared for this moment. He gave you a subtle nod, and you pranced forward, hooking your arm around Todd’s shoulders. A perfect distraction. Logan stepped up behind the two of you silently, slipping the extra hundred-and-twenty into Todd’s pocket, listening to you ask about the difference in performance between the firing cylinders on a V6 and a V8 engine and not really listening to the answer. 

“Well, I think that’s everything, right Lo’?” You asked and he confirmed with a brief nod as you pat Todd’s shoulder once, letting Logan take the lead and make a show out of counting out fifty dollars from his wallet. You left them to it, folding away the prop for the truck hood and slamming it shut, giving the side a gentle pat. The pickup really had served you well for the last six months, and you couldn’t quite bring yourself to either consider getting a replacement car. You’d grown kind of attached to it, developing a taste for the more rugged things in life. 

You couldn’t help but look over at Logan alongside the thought. Rugged things indeed. You leaned against the car door as the two men made their way back over to you, and your ears picked up on their ongoing conversation as Logan stopped by your side. 

“She’s a gem, Logan. Fuck knows how yer ugly mug managed to bag ‘er, but you look after ‘er, ya hear me?” Todd jammed a finger towards his aforementioned ‘ugly mug’  in an empty threat.

“Loud ‘n clear, Todd.” He sent the man a false salute, settling an arm around your shoulder and you instantly leaned into his side. Todd took both your hands in his own and Logan fought the urge to laugh. 

“An’ if this one ever pisses y’off, you know where t’ find me.” He grinned and you chuckled heartily.

“You’ll be the first one to know.” You responded with such conviction Logan had to double take, though your partially imperceptible smile eluded to your sarcasm. You were incredibly good at that. At saying the very thing people wanted to hear. You were also incredibly good at saying the opposite of what people wanted to hear, one too many bar fights started because some handsy asshole decided you were a prime target. If it didn’t piss him off so much, he’d sit back and watch as you both verbally and occasionally physically beat a motherfucker down.

But unfortunately, handsy motherfuckers at bars did piss him off. Monumentally. And though he rarely threw the first punch, he would always throw the second. You didn’t need defending. He knew that. But that didn’t mean he was going to stop.

“Right. Well, I’ll see you both soon then. Best’ve luck with the bike, and my door’s always open for the both of yous, whatever ya need.” He nodded as you both waved him goodbye, standing in the driveway until he disappeared down the track and past the treeline. You hummed a contented smile.

“You’re gonna get a really angry text later, you know that. How much did you slip him?” You asked, stretching your arms high above your head and checking Logan’s watch on his wrist. The time had just gone midday, the sun still casting speckled shadows through the canopy. 

“One-twenty. Brake callipers aren’t particularly cheap.” He admired the way your arms flexed as you stretched, that bruise he’d sucked into your neck blossoming a dark purple. He needed to control himself if he wanted to make good on his promise to you six months ago. “Fancy a drive?”

You spun round to him, eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’ll get my boots!”

Biting wind whipped your unbound hair, exhilaration flooding your system as you clung to Logan’s leather jacket, your cheek resting against his spine. True to his word, he’d taken you out for the day on the back of the bike, finding a secluded, forested cliffside for the two of you to perch on. It wasn’t quite the lakeside romance he’d planned for you before, but it still worked to perfection, watching the clouds pass by overhead, the view a palette of every shade of red, orange and yellow, trees igniting as the sun began to sink low in the sky, faded the bright blue to a softer pale pink as the daylight descended into twilight. 

His hand secured your arm around his middle, caressing the sleeve of your jacket with his thumb with soothing swipes. Glancing over his shoulder, Logan smiled to himself as you nestled closer into his back, your arms tightening around his waist. One of your hands spread up his chest and over his heart, something he’d noticed you started doing absently, subconsciously. His soul sang along with the warmth you brought.

“Y’okay back there?” he called over his shoulder, returning to face the road. He felt you shift in what he could discern was a nod of your head, patting his abs twice.

“Perfect!” he caught your response over the roar of the engine and the whistle of the wind in his ears. Though you sounded alright, something had been off about you. You covered it well, playing around with Todd, nestling into his embrace as you watched the setting sun, but Logan had been seeing that faraway look on your face more often recently. 

It started around a week ago when you were looking for a new book to read after finishing your old one. You were sifting through the bookcase, carefully removing old sketchbooks the two of you had filled and grainy photographs taken on a digital camera when Logan heard you stop abruptly. He’d been oiling a baking dish when eerie silence greeted his ears, and by the time you returned back down the stairs, that vacant look had returned to your eye, the shitty romance novel clutched in your hands.

He’d asked if you were alright, but you waved off his concern with a huffed laugh of dismissal. Though Logan could see it, he didn’t press you. You’d talk about it when you were ready. You always did. 

Turning off the tarmac and down the track to the cabin, Logan took your hand over his heart in his own and dipped down to press a kiss to the top of your knuckles. He was rewarded with a squeeze of your fingers, kicking down the footstand as he parked up next to the truck. He couldn’t smell any rain on the air tonight, so he was happy to leave the bike out and just cover it with the tarp from the barn. 

Swinging your leg over the back of the bike, you cupped the side of his furry jaw, stooping to mould your lips to his grateful kiss, your warm smile infectious. Logan sighed into your mouth, his hands tugging you closer by the waist until you stood between his knee and the bike. His palm moved to the back of your thigh as you swiped your tongue along the seam of his parted lips, your taste sweet honey on his tongue whilst he pulled you onto his lap, two steadying hands braced on the dips of your waist.

“‘M gonna fuck you on this bike… wanted to do it since I first saw the thing,” you breathed against his cheek before dipping below his jaw, suckling little nibbles against his skin. Logan groaned lowly. You’d been teasing him all damn day,  from the way he ate you out that morning to the way he ground against your ass when you were changing the spark plugs. His cock twitched as he let himself hope he would finally find the relief he needed deep within your cunt. 

You rolled your hips against his growing erection as he sat more deeply in the saddle, your legs perched daintily on the foot pegs on either side of his calves. Nimble fingers fiddled with the front of his thick belt, unlacing the buckle from the loop and pulling the two halves aside. Logan growled at your urgency, appreciating the swift tug of his zipper, your fingertips ghosting along the waistband of his briefs, causing his skin to prickle in anticipation. Scratching through the happy trail leading down beneath the elastic, you bit down into his throat, drawing a gasp from his chest. 

He could do nothing but hold you tight as your hand finally sank beneath his briefs, curious fingers circling around the shaft of his cock and tightening your grip. His eyes screwed shut when you circled his sensitive tip with your thumb, his mouth falling open with heavy pants, his hips bucking up into your soft palm. Your nails clawed against the nape of his neck as he pushed you from his throat, turning the tide and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh behind your ear, licking and biting at the same bruise he’d left there earlier. You whimpered against him, and the scent of your arousal teased his nose. 

You tugged his hard cock from his briefs, shoving the fabric down as far ar you could. Logan shivered slightly, the cold air caressing his raging length as you released him to fiddle with the buttons and zipper of your jeans. 

Too long. It would take too long. Logan needed to be inside you yesterday. With a heated hiss, he slid his middle claw from his knuckle, using his other hand to grip both your wrists. “Stay still…” he murmured, bracing the tip of his claw over the clothed apex of your thighs. You gasped, promptly sandwiching your lower lip between your teeth when the ripping of fabric caused your gut to churn. Logan’s nose twitched as your quaking cunt gushed to soak the crotch of your underwear, and you both looked down, equally as surprised at your reaction. 

“Yeah?” he queried with a raised brow, ever-so-softly dragging his claw down the inside of your thigh. You pitched an airy whine, tugging tightly at the hair on the back of his head. To see you like this, gaping and breathless because of his claws did something wicked to him. Instruments that had previously only been used for death had suddenly become something so much more, gifting you with sharp peaks of pleasure when he dragged the back of it over your throbbing clit. 

You nodded desperately, breathing hard through your nose when he hooked that same sharp claw around the waistband of your underwear, slicing clean through the fabric and exposing your pulsing cunt. “Fuck…” you breathed as he retracted the silver claw, giggling slightly when he lifted you against him, pausing to tease your dripping entrance with the head of his cock. 

“‘course you get off on knives…” he muttered, smirking wildly as you attempted to sink onto his cock, using your weight to push down on the hands holding you aloft. You groaned in frustration, dragging a wicked chuckle from his throat, before he slowly pulled you down, humming a low moan as your tight walls welcomed his thick shaft. 

“Should… should do that again… sometime.” You panted into his mouth, barely able to form your words as you slowly roll your hips against him, earning yourself a gravelly grunt along with your movements. “So fucking hot.” You gasped as he thrust up into you, using the bike’s suspension to bounce you slightly as you clung to him, your fingers buried in his hair.

Logan looked down to where he rhythmically disappeared up into you, his breath hitching as you took one of his hands from around your waist and pressed your fingers into his knuckles, right where the slight hurt of his claw healed over. His cock twitched as you massaged his knuckles gently, finding just the right spot between each bone where his claws usually split. He couldn’t help the way his jaw fell open, his eyes rolling when you lifted his hand to your mouth and tongued one of the three surprisingly sensitive skin. 

“Fuck… Fuck! D’do that again…” Logan fucking stuttered as you repeated the motion with your tongue the very same way he would when he ate you out. Pleasure surged through his veins at the newfound discovery of the erogenous zone, thrusting up into you deliciously and causing you to bite down at the bone of his knuckle as the tip of his cock brushed against that patch of ecstasy inside you. 

You held his gaze as you made a show of dipping your tongue in the slits between his knuckles, closing your lips around the skin and sucking the same way you would against his cock. Logan furiously drove into you, still holding your waist with his one hand whilst you lavished the other. Eight months he’d been seeing you, and not once in that entire time had he ever come before you with his cock inside you, always taking extra care to make sure you hit your high at least once before he found his own. But with the liquid heat pulsing in his veins, he didn’t know if he could last.

He was thankful when your other hand left his wrist, skirting down beneath the waistband of your torn jeans to play with your own clit, throwing your head to the sky as the building pleasure wracked your body, only to bring his knuckles back to your lips. 

Your walls clenched tightly around his thrusting cock, deft fingers toying with your own pearl when your thighs started to shake, your whimpers and moans climbing in pitch, the vibrations of your voice tingling against the skin of his hand. 

Logan felt his own high cresting, his back tensing as his balls drew up, trying in vain to hold your failing gaze. Watching your eyes roll back into your skull was his undoing, feeling you coating his cock as you came around him, your teeth sinking into those little patches of pure pleasure shoving him over the edge of tension and into the honey-coated lightning storm of ecstasy. He cried your name, sharp pulses of fire shaking his system as he exploded inside you, coating your inner walls white.

Your brows pinched, mouth forming a perfect O as you struck your peak, his aphrodisiac cries of your name pulling you under as you simultaneously came with each other. You’d never felt him come so hard, and through your pleasure-addled brain, you assumed it was the result of being so pent up all day. Logan clung to you like a lifeline, nestling his face against the nook of your neck as he continued to twitch inside you, those overwhelming waves finally receding until he was basking in the full afterglow.

You panted hard, finally releasing his hand to grab at his shoulders, anchoring yourself against him to recover from just how hard your release had wrecked your body, barely able to laugh breathlessly and in utter disbelief into the little peaks of his hair. Logan grit his teeth together as you lift yourself off him to sit back on his sturdy thighs. How you managed to absolutely wreck him every goddamn time he didn’t know, but at least he’d been working on his self-control, and his claws didn’t slice your mouth open.

“That was fuckin’ dangerous…” he murmured, swiping his thumb along your lower lip. “Coulda hurt ya.” His brows pinched with genuine concern and you pressed your forefinger into the creases between them, easing his worries.

“How have we waited until now to use your claws? Such a good idea!” You were way too enthusiastic about that, and Logan simply huffed a laugh, looking up at you through dark lashes. 

“Not a good idea. Sure it was good today–”

“Logan it was fucking great today–” he clamped a hand over your mouth, silencing your protests. 

“But I can’t guarantee I’m always gonna have that kind of control. I could’ve done some real damage.” He knew reprimanding you was going to do absolutely nothing. Not when it had felt so fucking good, and you’d seen and felt what it had done to him. “Where’d you even get that idea?” He asked as you giggled a little mischievously, swinging your legs back over the bike and shimmying a little as you felt him drip from your cunt. Logan snorted as you squirmed awkwardly, tucking himself back in his briefs, not bothering to re-buckle his belt before scooping you into his arms and carrying you bridal-style to the cabin.

“Just came to me in the moment. I’m sensitive around my scars, so I guess it made sense to me that you would be as well. Or rather, if scars could be left on your body.” You shrugged, your arms looping loosely around his neck, your head resting against his shoulder as you reached into his pocket for the key, inserting the metal into the lock. 

Logan nodded in understanding as if your explanation made sense. And, in a way, it did. You were sensitive around your scars. He knew that better than anyone. At any point he wanted to distract you from something, all he needed was to nip at the mark on your neck, swipe his thumb against any of the four bullet wounds on your chest, or even pinch lightly at the one on your inner thigh, and you’d throw your head back with a breathy gasp.

So it checked out that, if scars could be left on his body, he’d react similarly. Which he had done. 

You tossed the keys into the bowl on the kitchen windowsill as Logan carried you through the cabin and up the stairs. You couldn’t pretend you weren’t enjoying the treatment, and at the very least it was preventing his cum from dripping uncomfortably down your leg. 

Laying you on the bed, he pressed a sweet kiss to the top of your brow, before disappearing into the ensuite. “Why aren’t you pregnant yet?”

You choked on your spit, half laughing half coughing at his question as he returned to you with a warm, damp towel clutched in his hands. “Come again?” you asked, still in recovery.

“We’ve been fucking, unprotected, for months now, and you still regularly get your period. Sure, you’re ovulating at the moment–”

“Logan!?” You gaped, kicking him lightly with the side of your foot as he cleaned you up, tossing the towel to the side and innocently dragging down your ruined jeans.

“But I’m just curious. Surely something woulda happened by now, even just a scare,” he pulled open your drawer, rummaging around until he recovered your favourite dark grey sweatpants.

“You got a point. Maybe it’s my mutation? I guess my body sorta resets itself every time I shadow walk, almost like a default state,” You shrugged, sitting up as he handed you the pair of trousers to replace the ones he’d ripped. “I guess if we wanna know then we could always just…” You trailed off and Logan turned from where he was changing his own clothes, comfy loungewear pulled up to his waist. 

Following your line of sight, Logan’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. He knew where you were looking, and if he was being truly honest with himself, he knew what you’d found a week ago. He wasn’t blind. The first month settling into the cabin, you’d cast fleeting glances at the bookcase where the folder was nestled, and he didn’t know whether you thought he wouldn't notice, but he did. 

The months went by and you didn’t quite forget about it, but you learned to live with it. Until a week ago, when you were searching for a new book to read. Logan didn’t know if you were ready. Shit, he didn’t know if he was ready. He’d only scanned a few pages of the file and he was truly terrified of what he’d discover if he’d looked at the pages in more detail. 

His blood turned to ice as you stood, approaching the shelving as if it would lash out and bite you. Steeling your nerves, you reached behind the first layer of books, parting them slightly as you retrieved the thick folder detailing every day of your life. Every horror you endured, every agonised second. You inhaled a shaky breath, returning to the bed and setting it down. 

NLMO. Subject Eight. “Phantom”.

Logan slowly came to sit by your side, taking your hand in his own, a silent gesture to remind you he was here. You looked up from the file, uncertainty swirling in your irises.

“I have to…” you whispered, trembling slightly as you went to open the folder, only for Logan to stop you.

“No. You don’t. You’re safe here. Nothin’ can get to you, sweetheart. Only do this if you want to, not because you feel like you have to.” You squeezed his hand, gaze flickering from the sincerity in his face to the handwriting on the documents containing who you were.

“I do have to do this, but I have to do this for me. Not for anyone else. I still have so many questions, Lo’. I don’t understand why Rowan is still there and I’m here. I need to know what happened. To all of us.” You spoke with such conviction, that Logan knew you’d made up your mind. Covering your hand positioned at the corner of the folder, he nodded.

“Alright then. We do this. Together.”

“You don’t have t–”

“I promised you I wouldn’t leave you whilst my heart was still beating, yeah? Do I look dead to you?” You snorted a laugh, shifting to lie on your front. Logan waited until you settled yourself before he too shuffled about, lying almost on top of you so his cheek was practically pressed against your own.

“Dead gorgeous maybe.” You grinned, and he pinched your waist, rolling his eyes dramatically.

“Just open the fuckin’ folder, freak.”

You turned your attention back to your past, once again inhaling a long, shaky breath. “Ready?” you asked, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. 

Logan nodded once in response. “Ready.” And the two of you turned the first page to your past.

For the some of the part, the documents within were mundane. It was incredibly creepy to start off with, knowing every moment of the life you remembered was being observed and written down, but it quickly became more of a story and less of a recounting. Logan would often crinkle his nose in confusion. “Wait, which one’s Subject Three again?” He’d ask, to which you’d respond with a sigh and a long look. “That’s Joseph, or Janus. He can teleport. Kinda like Kurt but less smoky.” And he would raise his head with understanding, before continuing to read in silence. 

You were okay for the first few pages, Ex.3 shook you up a little, reading about a memory you simply don’t have where they pushed your mutation to the limit alongside your bother. Deprivation and indulgence indeed. You took deep breaths through the surge of anxiety, Logan holding you close to him, asking softly if you needed anything. You just shook your head. You were fine. There were worse things to come. If you couldn’t handle this, how would you be okay with everything else?

The first big obstacle arose in 1944. The day was usual, you’d woken up, made breakfast with Rowa, and visited Jade, before they took you out for experimentation. It was the shift at Shots Shack. The one where you’d been flirted with all night and ended up fucking one of the customers in the bin shed.

Except, that’s not what happened at all. It was an accident. The result of a guard getting far too handsy with you. You’d fought him off as much as you could, but Subject One hadn’t restored your memories yet, so your mutation was at its baseline. You clenched your jaw as you kept reading, nausea roiling in your gut as Kreva detailed his observations, from your agonised screams for him to stop to the way you couldn’t stop shaking after he was done. You could barely stomach another sentence before a particularly vivid description of what was left behind had you detangling from Logan’s arms, racing to the bathroom and throwing up the contents of your stomach. You were kept under extreme observation after the incident. Not to make sure you were alright, but to look out for any signs of fucking pregnancy.

Logan had to suppress his burning hatred, not finding enough justice in knowing that the guard was let go from his position. He should be torn to fucking pieces for what he did. But flying off the handle wouldn’t help you. He followed you to the bathroom, gathering your hair in his hands as you convulsed over the toilet seat, the acidic stench of pure bile burning his nose. 

It was a fairly fond memory, what supposedly happened that night, only now for it to be tainted forever by the truth of what really happened. Your gasp echoed into the toilet bowl as you wretched again, your skin itching as if you hadn’t washed in days. 

“What’d you need?” Logan asked, gently scratching down your spine as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Your weak response of “Shower…” Had him moving instantly, opening the window before turning the dial of the shower, letting it warm before he helped you to your feet. 

“Where d’you need me?” He asked as you swallowed hard, clinging to his arm.

“Here.” You whispered, before slowly removing your clothes. Logan helped you out of your sweater, leaving you to pull down your own sweatpants unlike what had been written in the folder, before he guided you into the steam. Stripping himself of his own clothes, Logan stepped in after you, his heart breaking in two as you instantly sought his embrace.

He held you beneath the warm water until he completely lost track of time, your face nestled beneath his chin, his thumb slowly caressing up and down your spine. Occasionally your shoulders would spasm with a stifled sob, and he’d whisper sweet nothings into the top of your head. You were safe with him. He was going to look after you. He’d never let them find you again. 

Despite having read your previous experiences, his hands on your body felt clean. Pure. Nothing about Logan was tainted in the same way that memory was. You nuzzled your nose further into the hair on his chest, feeling the aura of comfort wrap around your heart. He had you. He wasn’t letting you go. 

Promises and vows drowned by the hum of water left his lips until you took a deep breath, stepping back from his embrace and meeting his gaze with newfound determination. You were okay. You’d be okay. Reaching behind him, Logan turned the dial for the water pressure until it was off completely, barely separating far enough from you that you could wrap a fluffy, heated town around your shoulder before he was stuck to your back again like a limpet. You weren’t complaining. It was absolutely what you needed right now. His presence. His touch. Knowing he wasn’t going to leave your side no matter what. No matter how broken your past, or how ruined you may be. He’d be by your side through all of it. 

Logan kissed the top of your head, stepping ahead of you to snap the folder closed and shove it somewhere out of sight, but you stopped him before he could. 

“I’m okay…” you murmured, loosening your grip on his forearm a little. He tensed his jaw, looking between you and the file. The mere fact that you were alright to continue was a testament to your courage. If he was being honest with himself, Logan didn’t know how much more he could read before it was you holding his hair back. And you giggled as he said just that. “Big baby.” You teased lightly, threading your fingers through his dark strands, swiping the damp back from his brow. 

“‘Scuze me if I’m not exactly thrilled to read all the agony they put the love of my life through…” he admitted with a soft huff, unable to meet your gaze as your eyes lit up. You rose to your tiptoes, moulding your lips against his in a soft, reassuring kiss, before pulling back. You chose not to mention it, how he’d never said anything like that to you in the last eight months you’d been together. You chose not to pinpoint the moment of vulnerability, opting instead to let his words settle in your heart. 

You didn’t know the time and honestly didn’t want to. Making yourselves two cups of tea, you returned back to the folder on the bed, once again getting comfortable. “Well. That was fucking harrowing…” you commented flatly as if you’d read something in the news, and Logan grunted in agreement, raising his fresh mug of tea to his mouth. He’d never been a tea drinker in the past, but living with you had turned him to all kinds of interesting new habits. “Ready for more…?” you asked with a wry smile to mask your nerves. He shot you an exhausted look but nodded nonetheless as you flipped through the papers to return to the one you’d had to leave. “Yeah no okay we don’t need to continue that one, we get the gist of it…” you turned the page hurriedly, smoothing out the paper as you pushed the contents behind you.

Year by year you kept reading, huffing little laughs as Kreva noted down everything NLMO got up to. From stealing some man’s car in the 1950s to graffitiing a wall with a penis in the 1980s. And whilst you knew your entire life was a simulation, it was almost gratifying to see that half of the things you remembered really did happen. You really did cook food with your brother. You really did hang out with Jade, or Kaleidoscope, every day. Erin, or Wood-Nymph, really did teach you how to grow plants effectively. You used to sit with Morgana, or Sanguine, and sketch together. Atlas, or Harmony, used his mutation to heal you up every time you ‘got into a fight’. You refused to refer to them by their numbers, just as you would refuse to refer to yourself that way too. 

Logan wasn’t expecting the moments of peace within the file. He’d only skimmed a few pages back in the med bay and hadn’t picked it up since, so he was pleasantly surprised every time you chuckled lightly at your old shenanigans. You would offer small anecdotes of what you remembered, providing further context to what he was reading. 

It broke him apart, however, when you went quiet. When you’d turn the page and be faced with the reality of what was happening to you. Psychological torture to test your mind’s durability. Scans and tests that had you screaming in pain as they injected you with various drugs, just to see how your mutation would react, if at all. These were the moments when Logan would hold you tighter against his side, eyes flickering from the pages to your face to guage where you were mentally. 

1962, your mouth fell open as you scanned down the experiment report. They were helping you develop your mutation. Logan too pinched his brows in confusion. You’d been able to call the shadows at will, conjuring various objects, weapons, and appendages without a sweat. “Wh– How?” you muttered to yourself, flipping back through the pages you’d already read as if to find some kind of answer. Logan stilled your hand, his eyes scanning furiously down the log before pointing to a paragraph roughly a quarter of the way down the page.

“There.”

Sub.8 only seems to access its mutation after we use Sub.1 to refocus its brain. Whereas 5 had access to its full range of powers at all times, 8 shows signs of regression when 1 replaces its memories. To combat this, I have 1 reassemble only the memories it needs to regain full control and access to its mutation. The reasons for this are, as of right now, unclear. However, it is suspected that, though subconscious, 5 retains muscle memory of utilisation. It could be that 8 is so resilient because it simply forgets even on a subconscious level. Further investigation is needed to yield an answer.

You rolled your eyes, muttering a sarcastic “Oh, very helpful.” Before you continued flipping through the pages.

Spending the next day in bed, Logan was up and down the stairs, mainly to stretch his legs every now and then, but also to grab snacks and drinks before falling back down next to you on the bed, offering you a bite of whatever he’d snatched. You’d continue reading the document in front of you, absently opening your mouth before sinking your teeth into what you learned was a block of cheese. Only then did you look away from the text, shooting him a look of bafflement. 

“An entire block of cheese?”

“‘M hungry.” He shrugged defensively, and you snorted a laugh, shaking your head as you returned to the words before you.

Logan didn’t know how you did it. He’d seen you sit for hours, with a nose buried in a book, but this was on another level. In the last twenty hours, he thinks he saw you get up and stretch once, head to the bathroom maybe three times, and take a roughly two-hour power nap. He, on the other hand, had to stand every hour or so, his legs feeling like dead weights if he lay down for much longer than that. The stacks of pages evened out slowly before finally, the read side looked far larger than the to-read side. 

Setting down another mug of sweetened coffee on your nightstand, a new secret recipe of espresso mixed with hot chocolate, Logan lay back down next to you, skim-reading the rest of the page where he’d left off before you turned it over. It was how he forced you to give your eyes a break. You couldn’t continue until he’d finished the page you shared, and you only looked away when you’d reached the bottom and he’d stood up to go somewhere. 

You’d reached 2013 now, only seven years ago, and the two of you were coming to the end of the folder. Flipping over the final page, you were met with penmanship rather than the typeface you’d become used to. Glancing to Logan, he returned your look of trepidation, before you started to read it aloud. 

6th April, 2013. Fuck fuck FUCK! He’s let them all fucking go. FUCK! I barely managed to save their folders before the stupid bastard blew up the whole FUCKING FACILITY! I don’t know how he managed to get 1 to alter their memories without coercing it, but they’ve all scattered across the fucking country. We need to start rebuilding. We need to get them back. Now. We cannot let this research go to waste. They need to be understood. If we are to create an army of these mutants, we need them to return and continue understanding their fundamentals. 5 was the easiest to manipulate, and 1 didn’t know how to run. I found it lying on the ground by the road. I will rebuild what he destroyed, I will find them all again. I’ll continue the work of my great-grandfather. But if anything should go wrong… I’ll have 5 eradicate all evidence. 

That was the last entry in your folder, and you wondered if any of the other seven had a similar log. Blowing out a long breath, you folded the file closed, turning to look at Logan as he seemed stuck in his head. A palm against his cheek, you turned him to look at you, tilting your head to the side in silently questioning.

“Hundred-and-five.” Was all he said, and you squinted in confusion.

“Hm?”

“That’s how old you are. At the start, it said you were sixteen. The first entry was in 1931, and the last entry was in 2013. Add the last seven years to that, and you’re hundred-and-five years old.” You stayed silent, attempting to wrap your head around his calculations. Over a century, you’d been alive. And eighty-two years of it was spent in a simulation, your memories being replaced almost daily. It was like your brain was a computer software they updated every ten years, making sure the background to your memories matched the decade. Fucking hell.

“Guess I can’t really make fun of you for your age anymore, huh…?” You smiled a little sadly, genuinely upset that half your jokes were now completely voided due to the fact you weren’t that much younger than him. You still didn’t know his age for sure, and neither did he. “But, looking on the bright side… at least I won’t grow old and grey whilst you look gorgeous forever.” You elbowed him softly in an attempt to lighten the mood.

If this was how you chose to cope with it, then Logan would be happy to go along with you. “You were worried ‘bout that?” he asked, raising a thick brow as you nodded.

“It crossed my mind, sure.” You shrugged, before kicking the folder to the floor, its once imposing presence in the room was now little more than an inconvenience taking up too much of the bed. The silence settled as you contemplated that last page. A mutant army. It didn’t seem possible. Who would be willing to join something like that? And why would any mutant fight for a human doctor? But you couldn’t shake your growing fear. And now he’d gathered whoever was left of NLMO, minus yourself and Jade. And since Jade was dead, you were the last on his list.

The thought didn’t scare you. You knew what you needed to do. And you were pretty sure Logan knew it too. 

“We need to get you back to Charles…” he whispered in defeat, being the braver of the two to actually voice what needed to happen. You needed your full mutation, and if the file was to be believed, the only way you could get it back, was if your memories were restored. Your real memories.

Closing your eyes, you tensed your jaw as you nodded in agreement, still too afraid to speak it into existence. Truth be told, you didn’t want your memories back. Whilst you weren’t exactly thrilled at what happened to you, it felt so far away, since you don’t remember living through any of it. “What if…” you started, trailing off almost immediately as you found the right words. “What if I’m not… me, anymore. If he can get them back, my memories… what if I’m different than I am now?” You asked timidly, avoiding looking anywhere near his face by fiddling with one of the tassels of his zipper hoodie.

Logan sighed through his nose, clasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger and raising your head so he could look you in the eye. Honestly, it scared him too, what those memories might do to you, but he also knew who you were. At your core. At the centre of your being. He knew exactly who and what you were. 

“You’ll be different, sure. But you’ll still be you,” he urged you to meet his gaze, adjusting his grip on your chin every time your eyes shifted from his own. “No matter what happens. No matter who or what you are after you remember, I’ll be right here.” His fingers shifted from your chin to your jaw, sandwiching your face between his calloused palms, his thumbs tracing the shadows beneath your eyes. 

Your head settled against his brow, simply feeling him close to you, whispering a quiet “Okay…” before he pressed a kiss of assurance to your lips. You smiled against him, your breath fanning his mouth and chin. 

“Glad I changed the spark plugs now… shame about the oil.” You chuckled slightly, and Logan rolled his eyes. 

“Think an oil change is the least of our concerns…” he mumbled, before you sat back, rubbing a tired hand down the side of your face. You looked exhausted, but then again, you always did. “Well, no time like the present, huh?” A rapid sigh flew from parted lips and you scrambled off the bed, pulling your rucksack out of the closet. Logan made to follow your lead, before halting as rhythmic, low vibrations hummed from the bedside drawer. His wry gaze slid to you, a brow raised in sly amusement. 

You held your hands up in innocence. “Don’t look at me! My drawer’s on that side! Plus it has an off switch, thank you!” You huffed, folding your arms across your chest. Logan’s brow furrowed in confusion, wrenching the drawer open, various different objects clattering around with the force, including his unused mobile phone. It was rudimentary, barely more modern than the Nokia Brick, sporting large thick buttons rather than a screen. What small screen it did have illuminated as Logan chuckled at the name, holding up the mobile so you could read it. 

TODD

You snorted a laugh, checking the time on the phone simultaneously. Had he really only found the sneaky money after almost two days? At two in the morning? “Told ya you’d receive an angry text or call!” You grinned triumphantly, Logan tossing the phone back down on the bed to let it ring out. He’d return his call on the road whenever you’d inevitably fallen asleep, and listen to whatever long-winded reprimanding he had coming his way. 

“Stay in the car…” he’d growled, his nose twitching as he sensed something wasn’t quite right. Your heart thundered in your throat as he opened his door, claws sliding from his knuckles, surveying the treelines on either side of the road. The air beyond the cab was quiet. Too quiet. And Logan angled his head to the sky, inhaling deeply before exhaling a threatening snarl. 

Something was very wrong. 

You linked your fingers through the handle of your door, pulling against the mechanism. Logan whipped to look at you through the driver’s side, his eyes wide and panicked as you shot him a look back. You weren’t fucking defenseless for Christ’s sake. You were a powerful mutant even without the whole scope of your abilities. 

You stepped out of the car despite his protests, waiting for something to happen the moment your feet touched the tarmac.

Silence.

You took a step forward.

Silence.

Casting a glance over to Logan, you watched as his chest heaved with adrenaline, and you didn’t fight the urge to cross the road with the intention of setting him at ease.

The second you were crossing the headlights, the dark road ahead exploded with light, shadows disappearing as a single gunshot rang out.

Logan’s world froze as blood exploded from your chest, spraying the hood and windshield of the pickup. A look of confusion tilted your head, before realisation dawned on your features and you staggered back, your breath strained in your throat as a dark line of crimson slid from the corner of your mouth. Pain wracked his chest as Logan roared, though his desperate attempts to get to you were in vain, finding his limbs sluggish and his brain hazy. 

Your knees gave out as you collapsed onto the road, splitting your head against the tarmac. This is why you haven’t left for six months. This was the exact reason why he’d kept you safe in the cabin. Logan supported himself against the truck, dragging his stubborn legs across the ground, his vision swimming. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. All you needed was a shadow and you’d be okay. He’d deal with the rest. He just needed to get his shadow within your reach. 

“The Wolverine. I’ve heard a lot about you.” A voice echoed around the trees lining the road, that pocket-sized sun moving closer to where you lay, gasping and bleeding, with no shadow to disintegrate into. “You’re extremely hard to get rid of. I never take Subject Two anywhere, yet here it was needed to keep you at bay. An impressive little mutant. It can manipulate blood cells. You see, right now, it’s slowed the beat of your heart to the point where you feel… drowsy? Sluggish? Exhausted? How’re you feeling right now?” He almost mocked, crouching down to where Logan had fallen to the floor, inches away from you. But the light had moved, his shadow now behind him and nowhere near where you needed it.

“Kreva.” He hissed, his claws slowly sliding from his knuckles and scratching along the tarmac. You gurgled weakly, making a subconscious reach for where Logan lay immobile, his eyes bloodshot. You’d read the file now. You knew all about NLMO and their individual mutations. Subject Two, Sanguine, could control and manipulate blood, whether it was her own or belonged to somebody, or something, else. And of course, that constant glow of sunlight belonged to Subject Five. Rowan. Solaris. Your brother. 

Your body itched as you bled out, begging for the haven of darkness to dissolve and reform, it was taking all of your strength to hold together those threads.

“It’s been cute, watching our Phantom domesticate the great Wolverine. But it couldn’t last. I still need it, unfortunately.” Dr.Kreva patted his hand against Logan’s arm as if in consolidate him, but it did nothing other than fuel his rage. Logan struggled against Sanguine, looking up at her shrouded face, eyes burning a deep red as she continued to manipulate his bloodstream. “Everyone step back!” Kreva called out, resulting in the team around him shuffling back a few feet.

“Don’t… don’t you– fuckin’ touch her!” Logan’s vision tunnelled slightly, barely managing to ground out his threat between clenched teeth. Kreva simply laughed with bitter condescending.

“Yes, I suppose I could let her bleed out. Though considering she’s been shot in the chest before and lived, I wonder how long it would take for her to actually die. Maybe that’ll be our last experiment. Whaddya say, Eight?” He bent over you, and you mustered up enough energy to spit a globule of blood into his face. He swiped at your crimson spit, cracking a hearty smile. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you? Subject Five, if you could.” Rowan moved behind Kreva, his shadow shrouding you in darkness and you fought the urge to dissolve into it, knowing that if you did, there would be nothing you could do. He had intimate knowledge of your mutation, he’d already prepared by bringing along your brother, let alone whatever else he’d had with him. You greet your blood-stained teeth, shivering as your body pleaded with you to let go. “You’ll give in, Eight. You always do. You tried this before. Not that you remember. Those scars on your wrists? You’ve tried this before and your body wouldn’t let you. So just give in…” He urged quietly, and you balled your fists, your nails digging harshly into the soft flesh of your palm. 

Your eyes slid to Logan a few feet away, his breath heaving in his chest, fear swirling in his wide hazel irises as he looked at you. 

“I will find you,” he grit, the tendons in his neck straining. “I promise. I will find you.”

You offered him a weary, bloody smile, and his heart broke as he saw the hope fade from your face. 

“I love you…” you barely managed a silent whisper, lingering just long enough to watch his whole world shatter through the windows to his soul, before you released the threads within your body, sinking into Kreva’s shadow. 

“Splendid,” Kreva clapped his hands together as if he’d done nothing but lit a fantastic barbecue. “Subject Five, you can stop now.” Like a switch had been flipped, the daylight glow resonating from your brother cut out, the torch beams from the truck headlights now the only remaining light. Logan clawed at the ground, his eyes lingering where he’d seen you last. You weren’t dead. He needed to remember that. You weren’t dead. But the way you spoke to him like it was the last time you were ever going to see him…

A cry of anguish worked its way up his throat, splitting the air as Kreva turned back to him like he’d just remembered he was there. “Oh, I know, hurts, doesn’t it? Let’s ease your pain for a while. Subject Two, if you’d be so kind.” 

Logan’s vision swam further, the pounding in his head growing to a crescendo as his heart rate slowed, knowing nothing more as his senses faded to black. 

It must have only been seconds of unconscious, the sky still shrouded in black clouds when he came to once again. Though Kreva was nowhere to be seen, a pool of crimson blood left behind where you once lay dying. 

You weren’t dead. You weren’t dead. 

Raising to his forearms, Logan shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind of the cobwebs, hazy memories dancing just out of his reach. Staggering to his feet, he craned his neck as the hum of a jet hovered overhead, recognising the Blackbird instantly, the sleek design blending in seamlessly with the sky above before the beams from the truck headlights illuminated the cockpit, steam hissing with pressure as the feet extended to the ground.

The engine was still whirring when Storm sprinted down the ramp toward him, her stark hair flowing behind her in the breeze she kicked up. Logan shook his head numbly as she approached, in answer to the question she had yet to ask. “Gone…” was all he could say, eyes sliding from Ororo to the bloodstain on the tarmac. Scott jogged up behind her, fingers braced at the side of his glasses before he stopped, seeing Logan’s expression.

There was a moment of understanding between the two men, Scott swallowing hard, Logan shaking his head still, slightly helpless before Scott stepped forward and firmly enveloped him in a tight embrace. 

“We’ll get her back, man. We will.” 

Logan’s breath shuddered as Scott drew back, keeping a hand firmly clasped atop his shoulder as Ororo looked between the two of them. “Kreva, right?” she asked rhetorically, though Logan nodded nonetheless.

“Yeah. Ambush. Had this freaky blood manipulator. I couldn’t fuckin’ get to her.” he bared his teeth, running a hand through his hair.

“How’d he even know where she was? Where were you headed?” Scott asked, continuously glancing around as if someone was eavesdropping on the conversation. But they’d gone. Kreva and his subjects had gone. 

And taken you with them.

“Headin’ back to you. We read the file. She needs her memories back if we want to use her mutation. I don’t have a clue how he knew. I just–”

The realisation struck Logan like a brick to the head, stopping abruptly as he absently removed his phone from his back pocket.

There, glaring in the low light, the sole reason for icy fury to flood his veins. There, the sole reason you weren’t by his side right now.

Logan gripped the phone in his palm, hearing the casing crack slightly as he read the text over and over, a name he thought he could trust. The only name he thought he could trust with you.

TODD:

Forgive me.

[lust4lore]

ARFARFARF so down bad for brattamer n casually dominant(by nature) kinda dark rafe n bimbo reader🤭🤭 imagine reader talkin to a random stranger in a bar or club or whateva she thinks its js a friendly interaction n shit after that rafes js there thinking 150 ways how to kill the guy for flirting wit his pretty little thing then she says it was a nice friendly convo n hes like whst???? yeah ahaha.... im obsessed pls forgive me

OH THIS GOT THE JUICES FLOWINGGG

the creative juices. get your head out of the gutter. that being said, thank you for your request! i hope i did it justice

CW: controlling!rafe, mildly dark!rafe, mmm kinda breaking my own guidelines w this one but VERY slight domestic violence? you get the point, manipulation

rafe cameron likes pretty things. so much, in fact, that he had known he was done for the second he saw you. you were cute— innocent— in a pink silk dress, ribbon in your hair and a sweet smile tugging at the corners of rosy lips. he just had to have you, and a year later, he did.

another well known fact about rafe cameron, though, is that he doesn’t share. and so, imagine his surprise when he comes back from the bathroom to see some man talking to you at the bar. he watches you for a moment, the rage settling in his veins enough to get his jaw clenching as you bat your eyelashes and giggle at whatever stupid joke that bastard just told you, pretty lips sucking at your straw as his gaze flickers down to your chest.

now that has rafe seeing red. he comes up behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist and causing you to slightly stumble back at the force of it. “hey, baby, who’s this?” he asks, fingers lightly twitching against your stomach. if you’re aware of the waves of fury radiating from him, you do nothing to show it, turning around in his hold with a naive smile and bright eyes. “rafey! this is alex, he wants to be friends,” you tell him, gesturing towards that sick perver— alex— behind you. “oh, does he?” he asks, but rafe isn’t talking to you, not really. if looks could kill, your new ‘friend’ would be further than six feet under the ground. “y’know, alex, i think my girl has enough friends already,” he squeezes your side, glancing down at you. “don’t you think, sweetheart?” the grasp he has on your waist tightens, fingers digging into your skin in a way that’ll probably bruise later.

you tilt your head, a crease forming between your brows as you lower your voice. “rafe, what- ow!” you yelp quietly as his iron grip bores into your ribs. he pays you no mind, though, still fixing alex with a chilling, eerily calm smile. “shit, man, i’m sorry, i’ll- m’gonna head out now,” the shorter boy mutters, looking intimidated as he staggers backward and rushes out the door. rafe gives a quiet chuckle at that and one of his hands grabs your wrist, yanking you closer. tears prick your eyes as he nearly cuts off the circulation in your hand, leaning in close to your face. “the fuck do you think you’re doing, huh? letting other guys flirt with you like that?”

you let out a whimper at his harsh words, a tear rolling down your pretty face. “he was jus’ being nice, i-” you whisper, and a hint of satisfaction cuts through his anger. look at you, you need him, who else’ll be there to protect you from all of those gross guys trying to get a piece of his sweet girl? he sighs, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears off of your cheeks. “c’mon, doll, you know better, did you see the way he was lookin’ at you?” you just look up at him, tears still sitting in your waterline as he presses a kiss to your trembling lips. “i didn’t mean to make you upset, a’ight? m’just trying to protect you,” he murmurs, and you instantly feel a little guilty for the way you reacted. “m’sorry, i didn’t know he was-” but rafe shushes you, stroking your cheek gently.

“s’okay, baby, you’ll remember who you belong to when we get home,”

[totheblood]

superposition. (two)

pairing: dealer!ellie x best friend!reader

summary: ellie gives you lesson number two and you get an A on your test! yay.

warnings: 18+, SMUT, cursing, alcohol/drug mention, suggestive themes... cheating if u squint... the ai audios for this one is?????? just don't listen to it around people pls

a/n: smut is so not my strong suit but like... i tried!! please know i'd love feed back and all reblogs and replies and asks are welcomed and encouraged... i love u all so bad i hope u like this.. ai audios at the end are again... steamy?

read part one to this fic here!

"why dont we collide the spaces that divide us?"

You think your first date was a success.

Malia, your date, did everything right. She held open the door for you, made you laugh, and walked you home with your hand in hers. Her hands were soft, contrasting Ellie’s calloused fingers and dry hands, and by the end of the walk they had grown clammy. She smelled like coconut milk and pink pepper, and her ginger hair stretched passed her shoulders. When she spoke her tone was gentle, her words almost sickly sweet as they fell from her lips. On paper she was perfect.

But as the two of you approached your apartment building and her cherry-flavored lips met yours, it wasn’t like you had imagined. You were unsure if you sitting in Ellie’s lap earlier that night had anything to do with the sour taste left in your mouth as you gave her another kiss goodnight, but it certainly wasn’t helping.

“We should do this again.” Malia practically shouted as you walked up the stairs to your building's entrance. “I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“We should,” An odd feeling settled in your chest. “Text me, yeah?”

“Okay, I will.” Her smile held warmth in it, her cheeks growing red. It was obvious she was really into the date and while your chest swelled with pride, it also didn’t swell with the same affection she was harboring. A part of you assumed that love didn’t happen gradually and that your feelings would only grow as time went on, but you couldn’t be sure of that at this moment. All you knew was that she was practically perfect, but she wasn’t Ellie.

The whole night all you could think about was the fact that everything she did was the complete opposite of what Ellie would do. Your whole brain felt muddy as you searched around in your bag for keys wondering why you suddenly felt the need to compare your date to your best friend. It would never work out between you and Ellie anyways… right?

It wasn’t like you hadn’t found Ellie attractive when you first met her, but you were inexperienced and way too shy to flirt with her. As a result, the friend zone became a permanent place for you and Ellie. There was a comfortable haze that settled in the air when you were with her and it was a growing fear of yours that something could jeopardize it, and knowing Ellie that was entirely plausible. 

You wouldn’t go to the lengths of saying that Ellie was a ‘fuck boy’ but it was clear she got around. On many different occasions, you had let yourself into her apartment and been met with varying girls, all of whom Ellie claimed she would never call back. You had to actively ignore the disappointment you felt each time you interrupted her with someone, and the anxiety at your throat when she claimed she was already over them. You knew Ellie would never abandon you like that, but it was still a possibility.

Whatever feelings you had when you first met her, however, were now shoved down into a deep place in your brain that was threatening to come to the surface again. You didn’t want her to be anything but ‘your Ellie’ and you desperately wanted to remain ‘her petal’. At this moment there was nothing more important to you than keeping the small semblance of domestic bliss that you had with her.

As you hung up your bag and began to take off your coat you felt your phone vibrate in the pocket. It was almost perfect timing from Ellie seeing as you would have spent the entire night searching for your phone and thinking Malia had robbed you. 

E: How’s the date going? Or how did it go? 

E: Unsure of my timing rn.

Y: it WENT well… she was cute

E: Did you use any of my techniques?

Y: no nothing happened, we just kissed goodnight and then she left

Y: plus you didn’t teach me any techniques you just made out with me

Y: hoping that was free lesson cause idk if i can afford the ellie williams tuition

E: That’s boring.

E: No action? I mean it’s Friday night.

E: It’s always gonna be free for you, Petal.

Y:  no action :( 

E: Poor baby. 

E: We should fix that.

E: Want me to come over? We can smoke and you can tell me all about this very boring date.

Y: IT WASN’T BORING STOP THAT

Y: and yes, my answer is always going to be yes to smoking with u

E: When you got so high that one time and bit me…

E: Don’t bite me again.

E: Wait actually…

Y: perv

E: Shut up.

You got undressed and changed into the same outfit that you slept in every night, an old t-shirt and grey sweatshirts. For a moment you contemplated not taking off your makeup, wanting to look nice for Ellie, but your need for comfort won you over this time. It wasn’t too long later that Ellie was making her way into your apartment and placing her backpack down on the floor. You moved to stand in the doorframe of your bedroom shooting a pointed look at Ellie.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” She removed her coat and threw it over the couch revealing her own casual outfit underneath: A loose t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Fuck, she looked good in those swea-

 “You should really knock, Ellie,” This same lecture had poured from your mouth every time she did this, but she never stopped. Truth be told, Ellie liked the idea of coming home to you, just letting herself in and setting her shit down as she had just done. It was a small act in the large umbrella of romantically ambiguous things the two of you had gotten used to doing.

If Ellie was being honest with herself she would finally admit that whatever relationship the two of you had always bordered on the verge of no longer being platonic. She would just find herself doing things for you that she would never do for anyone else. She always let you smoke for free, voted on whatever movie you wanted to watch during movie night just to see you smile, and she was doing shit like she had done tonight. 

The minute you left for your date Ellie was glued to her phone, patiently waiting for you to tell her the date went to shit and that you needed her to come over and light up with you. As the night went on Ellie found herself anxiously bouncing her leg and obsessively checking your location. She was supposed to be working tonight, but instead, she was cyberstalking her best friend who was on a date. This time it was her turn to feel like a loser.

“Then why did you give me a key?” She walked over to you, hands in her pockets as she leaned up against your door frame. Your oversized t-shirt swallowed you whole hiding the shorts you had on underneath. You looked so at home, so comfortable, and everything in Ellie’s head turned to mush as she imagined pulling you into her by your hips and kissing the lecture right off your lips.

“For emergencies.” Your eyes instinctively rolled at her but you knew you could never be mad at her. You secretly liked it as much as she did. 

“I thought it was an emergency. You know, that your date was sooo boring that you needed me to come and take care of you.” From her pocket she pulled out a skinny plastic container, popping open the top with her pointer and thumb and shaking the joint into her hand. “Plus, I bought you free weed so you can’t be too mad at me, Petal.”

“It wasn’t boring, stop saying that.” You took the joint from her hand and led her over to your side table where you kept your lighter. Placing the tip of the joint between your lips you attempted to light your lighter as you sat on your bed, but failed. 

“The fact that you still don’t know how to use your lighter is beyond me.” Ellie walked over to you, taking the lighter from your hands. “What would you do without me?” 

You were about to roll your eyes when Ellie’s free hand found the bottom of your chin, lifting it up slowly so you were looking up at her from your place on the bed. She towered over you in this position, her eyes trained on your lips where her joint was hanging from your mouth. She quickly lit the lighter and loosely grabbed your chin, bringing it close to her other hand where she lit the joint for you. She was unsure of where this bout of confidence came from, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t have several fantasies about you that began this way. 

Dazed, you stared up at her watching her hooded green eyes take you in. For a moment, you forgot what you were doing when she knocked her knees gently against yours. 

“Suck.” She commanded, voice low and sultry. In response your eyebrows knit together in confusion, not fully understanding what she was trying to say. “The joint, Petal. Take a hit.” 

Her voice came out in a whisper that would have made your knees weak if you were standing up, but you happily obeyed her, taking a drag. You took a deep inhale allowing the familiar burn to sit comfortably in your chest. Ellie removed her hand from your chin and sat down next to you. You almost whined at the loss of contact. 

As you usually did, you passed the joint over to Ellie, watching as she took a hit and blew smoke into the room. She was in her element, here with you and taking care of you in the only way she knew how. All of the things she refused to share with you were shoved deep down into a place she was forgetting the name of right now. All that mattered was you.

 When she passed it back to you she smiled, watching as your eyes became half-lidded and calm. You were in your soft place, a perfect place to stop. Ellie took another hit and clipped it, shoving it back into its original container and back into her pocket. 

“So,” She began, leaning back on both her hands and turning towards you. “How did it actually go?”

“I think it went well,” You smiled causing Ellie to instinctively smile back at you. “She was cute, really nice, laughed at all my jokes.”

“She must really like you then,” Ellie laughed to herself. “Cause your jokes are shit.” 

“Oh, fuck you.” You giggled, leaning into her. When you sat back upright Ellie had a wide grin planted on her face. 

“What?” You questioned her.

“Did you kiss her?” Ellie’s smile faltered slightly, her eyes telling her true intentions. She wanted to know if the girl you went on a date with was a better kisser than her. 

“Yeah.” You sighed, chewing on your bottom lip anxiously.

“Was it good?” Ellie’s smile was completely gone by this point.

“Not as good as with you.” You confessed, and just like that Ellie’s smile was back. “I mean it just wasn’t as good, but it was a first date what do I expect? Maybe it’ll be better next time.” Gone, again.

“Next time?”

“Yeah, I’d like to see where it goes.” You shrugged, matching Ellie's posture with your hands behind you.

“Maybe you just need more lessons.” Her eyes were fixed on yours, red and glossed over. 

“Maybe.” You blinked over at her, mouth going dry. “What are you getting out of it?”

“I’m just a really good friend, I guess.” She joked, hitting your shoulder with hers.

“Yea.” You whispered, eyes glancing at her lips.

“Ready for another lesson, Petal?” Her voice was steady, her high giving her the confidence sobriety couldn’t. All you could do in response was nod. She pushed herself off the bed and gently tapped the side of your exposed thigh. “Okay, lay back on the bed for me.” 

Quickly, you obliged, lifting your legs onto your floral bedsheet. Everything around you felt like silk from your high, the sheets, Ellie’s hands, the pillow that you rested your head on. 

“Good girl.” Ellie smiled, getting back on the bed, and sitting on her knees with her legs tucked underneath her. Gently, she leaned forward and pressed a soft peck on your lips, wiping off any trace of Malia. It wasn’t like the kiss the two of you shared earlier, your tongues weren’t down each other's throats and her hands remained at her side. It was slow, tantalizing almost, and when she pulled away a girlish smile spread across her face. When she sat back on her knees her hand hovered over your stomach. “It’s okay if I touch you here?”

You were rendered speechless, she was being so soft and gentle with you that it made you like putty in her hands. You eagerly nodded, causing Ellie to laugh. “I’ll tell you everything I’m doing, Petal. Maybe you’ll be able to teach your boring date what to do next time.” Her hands slipped under your shirt and skimmed the base of your stomach. Your breath hitched in your throat, hindering any ability to tell her your date wasn’t boring. At this point, she could say whatever she wanted to you and you would take it. 

“I’m gonna take these off, okay?” Your eyes peered down at her, nodding once again. She pulled your shorts and underwear down together, painfully slow. She let them rest at your knees and lifted up your shirt that was covering your center. Suddenly, you felt extremely shy but didn’t make an effort to stop her. 

“You look so pretty, Petal.” She cooed as if she could read your mind. “Almost want to kiss it.”

“You can.” You weakly replied, knowing you were dripping from her words alone.

“Not so fast. We haven’t gotten there, yet. Basics, Petal. I thought you knew this.” Ellie leaned forward and pressed a kiss below your belly button, earning a whimper from you. 

“Be as loud as you need, okay?” Another kiss, another whimper. “I wanna hear you.” She moved to kiss you on the inside of your thigh. A gasp fell from your lips causing Ellie to smile against your skin. “Need you to tell me how good I’m doing.” 

“I’m gonna touch you now,” Her pointer and middle finger tapped your clit. Ellie was so focused on your cunt that she didn’t see your mouth fall open. “Right here.” 

Slowly she began rubbing tiny circles into your clit, applying light pressure. Your eyes fluttered closed, and a small moan escaped from your lips. Almost as if on cue, Ellie began applying more pressure, her eyes now focused on your contorting face.  

“Hey, hey, look at me.” She coaxed making your eyes glance at her. She looked so pretty, so focused on you that it made your pussy clench around nothing. “Feel good?”

Another nod.

“Use your words.” She picked up her pace making you scream out. Ellie almost moaned herself, just at the sight of you. “Mhm…Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

“Fuck, Ellie,” Your breathing was jagged as you felt a knot tighten in your stomach. “It feels so,” She applied a little more pressure, causing your eyes to roll back into your head. “Fuck.” 

“You’re doing so well, baby.” Her movements were calculated, and her words were only egging you on.

“Ellie, I think I’m gonna-”

“Do it. Cum. I know you can do it, baby.” She was pressing hard and fast circles into you and leaned forward to press another kiss into the inside of your thigh. All it took was the words of encouragement from her and you were coming undone, screaming out her name in between rapid breaths. When Ellie was sure you were done she pulled her hand away and licked her fingers.

You collapsed into the bed, eyes closed and trying to steady your breathing. When you opened them Ellie was gone, causing you to sit up sharply, wondering if you had just fantasized what just happened. 

“Ellie?” You called out, looking towards your door where she was returning with a washcloth in her hands. 

“Just needed to get this.” She lifted up the washcloth and shook it as she sat back down next to you on the bed. “You kind of made a mess.” She chuckled. 

“Oh,” was all you said as you glanced down to where you were dripping onto your bed. 

“Can I?” You nodded, ignoring her red cheeks as she cleaned you up. 

“Thanks for that.” You started as you watched Ellie pull your pants back up. “I’ll see if I can teach Malia anything. I think your lessons will really help, you know.” And just like that the gentle smile that Ellie had plastered on her face since she began cleaning you up was gone. 

It was almost as if a part of her believed she could fuck you into loving her but it was becoming increasingly obvious these really were just lessons to you. 

“Yeah.” She sighed, standing up and throwing the washcloth in your hamper. “I should get going. It’s getting late.” 

“Oh, okay.” You smiled up at her, hoping to see her smile back. She didn’t. “Text me when you get home?”

“Will do.” 

And just like that she was gone.

ai audios:

[geonwooz]

♡ DATING HEADCANONS — KIM GUNWOO

bf!gunwoo x reader | wc : 0.7k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, domestic fluff, established relationship, swearing | request — hello👋 if it's not a bother for you can i pls request dating and jealousy headcanons for geonwoo and woojin? it's alright if you don't. thank you anyways

gunwoo is such a soft boy like he’s so taylor swift song coded

not even a specific song, like if all her pretty love songs were made into a person; it’d be kim gunwoo

even though gunwoo is literally an almost six-foot muscle man built like mike tyson, when you first met him, the urge to protect him was saur bad

like you two would be the epitome of that hyper gf x calm bf meme pic

even if you are the biggest introvert ever, being with gunwoo makes you tap into that 1% extrovert in you which makes him so happy because it means you comfortable with him and that makes him so 🥺😭🥺😭

when you first starting dating, he was so pleasantly surprised by everything because this was a new territory for him

his lifestyle before you was just eat, train, sleep, and repeat — so this man had the shock of his life when dating you

the “good morning” and “good night” texts and the texts informing him what you were doing throughout the day + texts asking him what he was doing

he loved the way you’d always text him, even if it was like just a shower thought off the top of your head

literally everyone around him knew he was dating because bro kept using every free second of his to use his phone and the nonstop smiling at his phone like an idiot was a big giveaway

gunwoo is a selfless guy, meaning he’s always putting his loved ones before himself — and while you loved that for him, you always made sure to let him know when he needed to take care of himself

or you’d just take care of him yourself because you loved doing that

if he gave you flowers, you’d do the same after a couple of days, just wordlessly letting him know you loved him just as much as he loved you

even when you did something for him, he’d return the gesture, acknowledging your love for him and showing his love for you

as i said earlier, you are the hyper gf to his calm bf so one agenda i would like to touch on is how at one point you’d definitely be his curse dispenser of sorts

we know how gunwoo is a respectable gentleman who treats people with respect even in circumstances he doesn’t necessarily need to

so that’s where you come in, adding swear words between his sentences to make his words sound fiercer even tho manz probably has his polite smile on his face the entire time

“listen here-” “-you fucking asshole.” “just tell us what kim myeonggil is upto or-” “-we’ll shove your head so far up your ass, you’ll be able to eat your own shit.”

ok so maybe sometimes you have a little too much fun, which results in both your boyfriend and his woojin-hyung just staring at you, completely concerned

but they both love you, so a win is a win

honestly, gunwoo’s mama absolutely adores you and woojin feels the same, both of them just glad that gunwoo now has someone to take care of him and love him just like he takes care of others and loves them

you are always spending whatever free time you have with gunwoo’s mum and it warms his heart to see you two getting along together because honestly that’s all he needs in his life

if his loved ones adored you as much as you adored him, then that was it; he was indeed the happiest person in the world

it doesn’t take you long into the relationship for you to be comfortable with gunwoo, and he absolutely feels like he’s on cloud nine every time you mention how comfortable you are with him

like you can behave like an absolute madman, and he’d just love you harder — i don’t make the rules, it is what it is

so you best bet you sometimes leave your manz so bamboozlingly confuzzled by the most out of pocket questions you ask him because you have a curious mind

“why are buildings called buildings if they are already built?” “jagiya, please, it’s two in the morning.”

you two are a force to be reckoned with, i swear i feel bad for woojin already

sorrows sorrows prayers

TAGLIST :: @missscarlettangel (TO BE ADDED, PLEASE COMMENT, SEND AN ASK OR DM!)

[clairedaring]

more my stand-in thoughts and other ramblings about joe/zhou xiang best boi

!!!!!!!!!!! POSSIBLE NOVEL SPOILERS WARNING !!!!!!!!!!!

as my stand-in begins to air, even though we're only two episodes in, the series itself has already established very clearly and explicitly that ming is a HUGE RED FLAG and he's not... the nicest guy.

and as we are told by the narration of joe, this time he had with ming was not a dream as he had though but rather a nightmare and that it was ming who led joe to his death (literal translation of his last line in ep 1, iqiyi engsub you lack accuracy i hate you).

and while i am just one among the joe's protection squad, i feel like i don't share this overwhelming opinion i've been seeing of people thinking joe 2.0 should pull a 180 change or to be as bad as ming or to become some kind of monster and take his revenge on everyone who's ever hurt him as if this is some makjang kdrama.

i once wrote a bit about my thoughts on why joe/zhou xiang is such a compelling protagonist and what separates him from other 188 novels' main characters. but since that piece was written before my stand-in had aired and i think the characterization of joe has been slightly changed in comparison to the novel, so i want to take this chance to elaborate a bit more on my point in that post as well as update it to fit with the series version of zhou xiang.

so, like i've mentioned,one of the traits i love most about joe/zx is this inherent kind-hearted nature of his and i think the series has not only just done well in this aspect, but also greatly amped up this quality in the series portrayal of zhou xiang.

you can seeeeee it through joe's acts of services for this STRANGER he had just met. be it offering ming a ride to the BTS station or cooking for ming even though they didn't fuck.

however, i do agree with my friend @dragonsandphoenix's observation that with the series, since they're trying to speed through joe 1.0 and ming's relationship, the series has joe falling much quicker (literally him using the L word on ep 2 pls joe) than zhou xiang did, considering it took mingjoe only 2 ep before they started their period of domestic life and yanzhou 17 chapters to do the same thing.

i feel like this specific adaptation change in regards to characterization can cause audience to be even more protective of joe than novel readers already were of zhou xiang. one of my biggest fears for this adaptation (i say one of bc novel readers would already know my biggest fear of one specific scene) has always been the doormat allegations against joe. but like i've also said before, it's that specific trait that 'joe has the ability to fight back but he simply won't because he refuses to hurt others and his soft heart has him in pain whenever he sees others hurt' about him that i hold so dear. even in the series, we know joe has the physical capability of taking sol down... and the man did give sol a deck to his neck making him passed out.

... but it's also the same joe who would take care of sol after accidentally decking him.

did anyone watch ep 2 started counting how many times JOE apologizes in this episode... literally in the car scene, he said sorry to ming TWICE because he was scared he had hurt ming's feelings for his assumptions (right ones at that). or when the hot water dripped from the lid of the pot, joe immediately said sorry and checked to see if ming was hurt.

whether it is in the novel or the series, joe/zhou xiang is just really the type to sacrifice himself for the sake of others, he's never been able to put himself first and puts others' feelings above his (⁠っ⁠˘̩⁠╭⁠╮⁠˘̩⁠)⁠っ

which is why i was pleasantly surprised reading professional body double. because one would generally assume that after all the miseries thrown his way, he would become a bitter person, full of grudge and resentment against people who had hurt him, but he doesn't. that just isn't who joe is.

while joe's bad experience in his 1.0 life does change how he navigates his social life and the relations he has around him, it doesn't change the inherent kind hearted nature nor the optimistic outlook on life he once had. i love that for joe in his 2.0 life because his first and foremost goal was to restart a life happily and we gradually got this journey of self-respect and joe 2.0 finally being able to put himself first and fight for the things/people he love.

while there are obviously bad consequences to the "antagonists", i like that it has never been the direct result of joe 2.0 actions but it's more karmic. although i'm very open and would glad to see the antagonists getting even worse consequences than what happened in the novel (which i think was pretty mild) i think i'd rather be interested to see more of series!joe being happy and successful (big emphasis on successful because if i don't see joe with his 20+ blockbusters he deserve i'm suing for emotional damage)

in regards to the wife chasing arc in the second half of the series, i think this part will be rather controversial since there are diverse opinions on how audience want the wife chasing arc to be executed, or from joe 2.0's perspective: his responses/actions to being chased by ming again. and trust me, i do want to see ming grovelling in pain and suffer just as much as the next joe's protector. but at the same time for me it'd just be... ooc of joe to intentionally and/or maliciously inflict pain on ming. granted i do have some qualms as to ming's chasing method that i hope the series will adjust, i do think that zhou xiang's approach to being chased by yan ming xiu was rather sufficient without the need to give zhou xiang a 180 personality change, so i really hope that doesn't change.

all in all, while it's probably quite early to tell how the second half will progress and whether it does/doesn't diverge from his journey in the second half, i just think it was very in character for zhou xiang to make the decisions he does in the novel in his second life (except for one noble idiocy move that lasted like a day) and hopefully joe 2.0 also does in my stand-in for his new life. *sighs* joe is just truly best boi... i love him... look at he... that's my baby angel （づ￣3￣）づ╭❤️～

[summercreolefanfictioner]

the scent wafts in, her name making him beg on his knees chap 2.1

pairing: dabi / todoroki touya x fem!oc / reader (MODERN AU) [mentions of todoroki family]

chapter summary: In which Touya finally reveals how his spiral to darkness began (how he became an alcohol- and cigarette-dependent)

themes: nsfw, domestic abuse, violence, alcoholism, cigarette smoking, toxic relationships, mental health, co-dependency and other related themes (YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED)

notes: for this one, pls keep in mind that touya didn't have much scars on his face; mostly are on his body to accomodate the plot; charas might be ooc since this is modern au

Shouto visited him, of all people. It nerved the shit out of Touya. Of all people. Of. All. Damn. PEOPLE.

He half-expected their mom or Fuyumi or Natsuo, at least (or even their shitty father since he had become clingy as of late and constantly asked about his welfare at the treatment center, per Natsuo's letter.) After all, they kept begging him to let them visit him a few months ago, and just when he said they could go, he didn't know Shouto would be the first family member he would see in a while.

"My bad. Maybe I should've imitated Natsu-nii's hair or dressed up like Fuyumi-nee to make you feel better," Shouto remarked, aware that Touya would've wanted to see them first before him.

Touya could only cringe, imagining Shouto acting like their other two siblings. It's not the best thing to see in real life. "Please don't," he muttered awkwardly.

Shouto nodded, grabbing something from his pocket and sliding it towards Touya on the table. "I heard going cold turkey is difficult, so I thought this would do."

Touya incredulously stared at the object, his frown curving more and more at his brother's foul mouth and silly antics. He couldn't believe this was the boy he raised for quite a while back then.

Should've toned down my sarcasm back when he was young.

"It's fake cigarette. You can even eat it," Shouto revealed.

"I know that. I can clearly see what this is, Shouto," Touya retorted. Seriously, is he making fun of him right now?

"Just making sure, in case you're running out of options to satisfy your cigarette addiction." Afterwards, Shouto brought out a bag of beer-shaped candies and gave it to him. "And I heard you also drank a lot so..."

Touya groaned in exasperation. What the fuck is he pulling? What's with this shit?! "Do you really think you can solve my alcohol and cigarette issues just by giving me candy?"

Shouto shrugged. He didn't know what to do, to be honest. He was just suddenly told by Fuyumi and Natsuo that they had urgent matters to attend to so he had to be the one to visit their oldest sibling. He just didn't anticipate he would act this way.

"Well... I could... indirectly... as a source of your cravings... you can munch on them—"

"ARGH! I've had enough!" Touya stood and slammed his fists on the table, embarrassed with Shouto's point of view and solution for his issues. God, why did he have to have a brother like this? Is he really the masterpiece their father has been prancing around like a trophy?

Shouto awkwardly looked away, running out of options to appease Touya. It wasn't like he hadn't seen him prior to this. He met Touya back when he was doing carpentry and when they talked for the first time, the oldest couldn't be bothered to accommodate him, like he really didn't want to talk to him at all. He was even so rude that he smoked in front of him and didn't care if he was the secondhand receiver of his cancerous stick. That's why, talking to him again like this, he had little hope that Touya would be a bit nicer in a way.

Like when he would take him to Sekoto Peak in secret.

"Hey," Touya called his attention. "Have you taken Fuyumi-chan and Natsu-kun to Sekoto Peak yet?"

Shouto was stunned, speechless at his question but nonetheless happy. Happy that he remembered. Happy that Touya still held his end of the promise, that the four of them would go there. For so long, he went there alone, not taking his two siblings on purpose because Touya wasn't there. And now that he was here...

"I haven't."

Touya was only quiet, sighing as he scratched the back of his head. He wasn't used to this. Then again, he was his oldest brother.

"I'll see what I can do," he said while looking away from him in embarrassment. "Well, after this treatment, that is."

"Is that... your graduation gift for me?" Shouto meekly asked.

Graduation? Touya narrowed his eyes in confusion until it hit him. Of course, damn brat's already nearing graduation. He's 18, for fuck's sake.

"Yeah, sure, whatever you call it."

On that day, Shouto had been his happiest.

------

"When did you start drinking?"

"15."

The therapist took note of the age. Too young. Too young to drink. Too young to get drunk. Too young to be exposed to things he shouldn't be exposed to. Too young to grow up. Too young to mature.

"How did it happen?"

Touya recalled seeing a few senpais from the other building, having fun in one of the secluded rooms, merrily laughing like they had heard or seen the funniest thing ever. The 15-year-old Todoroki Touya was curious, wondering what it was until one of them motioned for him to enter their threshold, unbeknownst to him that this would mark his welcome to hell. They urged him to have a happy drink because he was always so serious, "lighten up," they would say.

Touya recalled how bitter it tasted, scrunching up his face in disgust, questioning on how it could be a 'happy drink' when it wasn't delicious enough. But then, they encouraged him further, until the bitter taste was nothing on his tongue and the name finally made sense. His inhibitions had been worn down, and all he could do was laugh and laugh and be numb. No one at home knew that he drank that day as he went straight to the toilet and washed up all traces of alcohol. It never happened. He never drank. He just went to school like usual. That was all.

"How about smoking?"

"I learned it on my own during high school."

"Why?"

Touya shrugged. Why did he? He honestly didn't know. One day, he just felt that urge creeping onto him, the urge to do something worse. It's not like he was slacking off. He was still getting those damn high grades. He never went absent from school unless there were important family matters to attend to. He managed to become the good son, but not the favorite. He was still the top student in their grade. He thought it would never get worse than this.

Like any first-timers, Touya had a rough start with smoking. He was coughing the entire time, still not giving up on his first try as he tried to inhale and exhale smoke the right way. It took him a few tries before he got hit by the nicotine, finally mastering the proper technique and being able to understand why a lot of people smoke when they get stressed. Since then, he would sneak out and smoke somewhere no one would know, preferably the school rooftop. Sometimes, he would be careless and take a hit in their family garden, ensuring to take his own trash out so no one would know.

Ah, but he became a bit careless once. He left his empty pack of cigarettes in one of his pants and one of the maids immediately reported it to Enji. So when he went home that day, the house was suddenly so quiet, like eerily quiet as his siblings sat on the living room sofa with Enji on the armchair holding the empty cigarette box. The next thing, he was getting slapped with Fuyumi trying to go between them, but to no avail. Touya received the worst beating of his life, and this scarred him the most to this day, locking himself in his bedroom and refusing to speak with anyone even when there was food left at his doorstep. Well, he did allow Fuyumi to enter as she was insisting on healing his wounds.

"Fuyumi-chan is so nice," Touya commented. "She's so nice, she should've been the favorite child."

"Why do you say so?" his therapist countered.

"Fuyumi-chan had always made sure to keep the family in check. Mother wasn't there anymore. She was sent to a mental ward after burning Shouto's face with boiling water," Touya answered. "Fuyumi-chan had always known that all things went south, but she would act like the responsible older sibling, making sure there would be no conflicts, no arguments, and even if there were, she would be quick to cover everything up."

"Touya-nii," she called his name, placing everything back in the first aid kit.

"What?" he spat bitterly, not wanting to hear any rubbish lecture, especially from her and her two goody-good pretentious shoes.

"Please don't destroy yourself further," she begged, her voice a mere whisper. "I'm worried about you. We're all worried about you. I don't want to lose you or anyone else." And now, Fuyumi was crying. Great. Just fucking great. She was crying because of him, snot and tears mixing up as she kept them together. "Please, Touya-nii," she hissed. "I beg of you. Just please. Please. Please. For us."

"What would you know?" Touya shot at her, dismissing her sobs even though he knew she was just worried. "You and Mother had it all easy. All the women in this house just stood in silence. You can't even fight. Grandma even sold Mother to Father for their marriage, right?"

"T-Touya-nii—"

"That's why we're all here, isn't it?" Fuyumi tried to reach for his hand but he just retracted it from her, glaring at her so hard with sarcasm. So much for being the best sister he could have. He shouldn't mock her efforts or belittle the things she did. "We're all here to be his successor until we weren't. We're failed creations, Fuyumi-chan. Get that shit in your brain, okay?"

He hasn't still apologized to Fuyumi for that after these years.

------

In the next session, Touya tells his therapist about the day he ran away, and the day he decided to abandon the Todoroki family. This was the start of him entering hell, according to him as his therapist readied his notebook to write the important details. After the cigarette incident, Enji would be watchful of his movements, and it was so evident that Touya could feel a lot of his teachers monitoring him, even disguising it as 'asking where he was going' even though he knew they would tell on him to his father. He would feel himself raging internally at this point, the darkness in him caged yet ready to burst any minute.

Great! I can't drink alcohol. I can't smoke a damn cig. Just. Fucking. GREAT!

He couldn't concentrate on his studies. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't function. Fuck, he was a slave to his own vices. He could feel himself dying without them already. And because of that, he would readily snap at people approaching him, may it be out of sheer good will or not. Touya did not give a fuck anymore. He was itching to destroy something—anything—no, no—anyone, someone—IT. WAS. THE. LAST. STRAW.

One of the school's delinquents decided to kick his desk and make fun of him, probably to get some cold hard cash because he thinks he's so powerful, bullying other kids who got no power over him. Touya was only nonchalant, minding his own business as he stared at the view from the window.

"Oi, Todoroki! Did you go deaf or something? I said—"

"Fuck off," Touya replied, still not looking their way.

The delinquent clicked his tongue in annoyance, pulling Touya up by his collar as he gritted his teeth. "You shit. You think you're so great just because you're dirty rich and all that crap?"

Touya only smirked. "So what? Can't handle my life being greater than yours?"

The delinquent only stared hard, narrowing his eyes angrily before letting go of Touya and saying, "At least I don't have a mother who's some kind of lunatic. Who knows? Maybe your sister's a psycho as well?"

And the next thing, there was a brawl in the hallway; more like a one-sided brawl as Touya pinned the delinquent down on the ground and punched him like there was no tomorrow, cold and bloody gaze on him that silently screamed murder. His pleas for help and stop were falling on Touya's deaf ears, uncaring if people were to brand him a monster for what he did. The fucker deserved it for being so careless with his words. He should've just shut his trap. He should've just not mentioned his mom or Fuyumi. The nerve of him. Imbecile.

The punching only ceased when the teachers came and the head principal decided to suspend Touya for 2 weeks before his graduation, much to everyone's chagrin as he almost killed his classmate. Of course, Enji was immediately called about the situation, and the moment they set foot inside the house, he took no time punching Touya in the face.

"Is that what you are now, huh?" Enji's hardened gaze was on him, emotionless and unwavering. "A fucking delinquent? Are you so hopeless you want to beat the shit out of anyone?"

Touya wiped off the blood from his mouth as he heard footsteps from his siblings down the hall. He couldn't look at them, especially at Fuyumi. Nonetheless, he also held his own at his father, not giving a damn if he was angry at what he did.

"Have you no shame for what you did, Touya? You're an embarrassment to this family."

Now that was Touya's turn to scoff, spitting out in front of him rudely. "How about you? Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Beating me up? Being the reason Mom was sent to the hospital? Casting us aside because of Shouto?"

Enji held a breath, his glare getting fiercer the more Touya meets it with his sarcasm. He raised his hand to slap him in the face, only for Touya to react with: "Go on. Hit me. Hit me like you always did. That's the only thing you were good at anyway."

That's when Enji stopped his ministrations, resisting the urge to choke those words out of his son and have him swallow them all back. They stared at each other for a long time before Touya trudged down to his bedroom and packed up a few of his important belongings. He has no idea where he'll go after this or what he's gonna do. He doesn't know, and he doesn't care. He needed to leave this goddamn place. His siblings would understand him. This wasn't easy for him, after all.

The three of them trailed behind him as Touya put on his shoes, their pleas for him to stay were hurting him more and more. He could never stay, not when Enji's around, not when this house was reminding him every time that he had no reason to be born in this world. He looked back at the three of them briefly before exiting the main house and sliding the door shut.

And afterwards, he buried the name Todoroki Touya, dyed his hair black, and went by the name Dabi.

next chapter

masterlist

[channoticedmeuwu]

CHOI SOOBIN AS . . . . ARIANA GRANDE'S 34+35 !

🌙 , ε. ＾꒰⁠⑅. . . ⌨️ ↝´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫. 🖇️⁾⁠⁾

p — CHOI SOOBIN × FEM!READER | g — fluff, slightly suggestive, domestic!au (I think), established relationship!au | w — none

a/n — soobin gave me ariana grande positions vibes 🤷‍♀️ I caved, u know me and my soobin agendas..... ++ pls forgive me I'm super sleepy and was feeling emo 😭😭😭

🖇️ READ SOOBIN AS POV !!

cold comforter pulled up till his flushed cheeks, soobin was a drowsy summer night as a person. pink plush lips slightly agape and hooded eyelids, soobin would rest with his forearm on his forehead, slipping into sleep and humming slightly while you talked to him. he'd try nodding, trying to look interested in what you were saying but he couldn't make out a word, too out of it with his eyes threatening to close like that.

so he'd just stare at you up and down, your hands expressing as you spoke, your eyes darting around the room, you rubbing your arms from the cold of the aircon— occasionally flicking your wrist to pull your hair back, which would brush on your face again and again. and he'd find himself in awe, tired smile and giggling with a low voice. and you'd think to yourself damn, he's out of it for real. boy didn't have a care in the world.

and he'd just interrupt you sometimes, his hands finding your waist to pull you closer to him, making you rest your head on his arm as you lay next to him. with your body so close to him, you'd hear the vibrations of his chest everytime he'd reply with a “hmm,” warmth spreading til your cold toes.

and you knew he wasn't listening, when he'd start running his fingers through your hair, bringing his face to rest in the crook of your neck. and you knew he wasn't listening, when you'd feel his lips curl into a smile against your neck as your voice cracked at his contact, fingers circling on your hips. and you knew for a fact that he wasn't listening when he'd start peppering your skin with sleepy kisses, humming at you and asking you to play with his hair.

and eventually, he'd glance up for a breather, lips red n’ puffy and eyes all big, looking at you like you were made for him. it's not that you cared that soobin wasn't listening to you talk at that moment, and he knew that when you smiled at him, thumbs caressing the apples of his cheeks as he rolled his eyes back, melting at your touch.

and when he'd actually fall asleep, chest rising and falling, legs thrown over you and your face in his chest— he'd dream about you, about your mannerisms and the feeling in his stomach when you'd trace shapes on his skin. just soobin falling in n’ out of sleep, waking up in the middle of the night, so fucking dazed that he'd forget that you were literally huddled against him. the lights were still on, the aircon wasn't adjusted to a comfortable temperature, and the humidifier was buzzing at it's loudest setting. but he didn't care, not when you'd sleep soundly, eyes moving behind your closed eyelids as your cheeks were dusted pink, timed gushes of warmth on his chest as you'd let out breaths. and he'd think he was the luckiest boy in the world, so beyond it all, he'd think he's hearing stars twinkling in the night.

and he'd feel like he's falling in love with you all over again when you'd rustle at the sudden lack of warmth when he left the bed to shut the lights. the night lamp illuminating his favorite parts about your face, your eyebrows furrowed as you lifted your head, glancing around to see why your arms suddenly felt empty. and he'd coo—even in your sleepy state, you could hear him smiling as he called from across the room in a sore voice, “m’ right here, sweetheart.”

ε♡з BONUS — pov & positions !

choi soobin wasn't a people pleaser, nor would he go out of his way to adjust others in his time. he was too packed for that, embarrassed but blunt when he'd refuse, suggesting another time.

but for you, fuckin’ christ— the way you'd smile at him, asking if he could spend time with you at the mall that day, or the way you'd link your hands with his when you wanted to take a drive around the city in the evening with him, or if he could distract you from something that was particularly stressful for you— shit had him on his fucking knees. for you, he felt like there was nothing in this world that he wouldn't do if you wanted it.

he'd see you eye a particular type of flower for longer than usual when you'd pass by a florist's shop, and expect a bouquet in your arms by the evening. he'd see the way your fingers scratch against the material of a dress, clearly hesitant, he'd buy it for you as a gift when you'd celebrate any occasion. soobin wasn't rich, hell, he wasn't fucking near that. but knowing that you were there to soothe his shoulders when he needed you to, to allow him to be vulnerable with you when he needed to be, to have someone to come to when he'd spend yet another day, too busy to even eat lunch— it was just a little something he wanted to do for you.

and he'd see your scowl as you'd smack his arm, lecturing him about spending too much on flowers that would wilt anyway, or a dress that would probably never get worn the way it was cut in the most suggestive areas. but it didn't bother him, not when he'd see that your eyes were not at all serious, bright n’ beautiful, staring at him with pretend anger because he knows you wanted it. and he'd tell you to stop worrying about it, because he knew you're not about to show that you obviously liked the gift.

and he'd see you arranging the flowers in a vase as he'd walk past the end of the hall. you hadn't noticed him yet; you were carefully touching the petals and feeling the texture on your fingertips, breathing in the scent and slightly snipping off the thorns, if any. and you wore a smile, a smile he knew all too well, eyes absorbing every outline and shadow the flowers made.

and he'd walk into the room and hear you sigh in frustration from the bathroom, door which was left open by you, and see you struggle to zip up the dress he bought from the back. lips pressed together in focus, you just couldn't do it, not when the zipper kept slipping from your fingers. so he'd walk up to you silently, helping you zip it up as he held your hair back with one hand. and he'd see you hold back a smile at the way it looked on you—perfect.

and when you'd finally face him again before bed, you'd thank him, thank him with such genuinity that he thought he was going to die if he didn't feel your lips against his own. muttering over and over that you didn't need to thank him, not at all. why should you, when you do so much for him, know what to do when he needs you, know where to take him when he's alone—know how to love him and make him feel loved?

txt — masterlist

main taglist (hmu to get added!) — @koishua @navyhyuck @allegxdly @daystiny  @kdyism  @neotism  @bluejaem  @radiorenjun  @sleepylixie @oifelixcmerebrou @mrkcore @imdamnconfused  @sicluvz @abhirami20 @tyongishs @emvrd @brxght-world @1921choi

I’d appreciate if you’d give me a little feedback on the drabble if you read, whether it’s an ask, a reply or in the tags of the rb! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

[sleepysnk]

hi love! Would you be able to do some domestic relationship headcanons w draken pls? Thank you sm 😚😚

a/n: hey bae! i love me some draken headcanons, so thank you for sending this in!! i appreciate it! <3 i hope you enjoy these!! :)

characters: ken (draken) ryuguji

warnings: some suggestive content, fluff, established relationship, mentions of food, use of pet names (baby, princess), soft draken.

DOMESTIC RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS.

ken (draken) ryuguji:

- i want to preface that this man is the absolute perfect person to marry. he has all of the great qualities and i think he would make an excellent husband!!

- this man would treat you so well. i see draken as a man who’s perfect for commitment, and he would be so faithful to you. he’s very much trying to settle down with you, so expect the best treatment. he’s not a hard husband to work with. he’s sweet, kind, communicative, etc! he’s pretty much all you would want in a person. i would hardly ever expect anything to go south in this relationship. he’s such a cutie, and he’s a great sweetheart.

- draken definitely makes you breakfast every morning. he’d be the type to kiss your forehead whenever he wakes up and he immediately goes into the kitchen to whip something up. he’ll make you anything you want. pancakes, waffles, eggs, you name it! it’s really good too. he’s like a total house husband when it comes to you.

- he spoils you rotten. draken loves to give you as much love as he possibly can. he’s such a physical touch kind of guy. he has to have a hand on you at every possible moment. his favorite place is the small of your back or your hips. he just adores those parts of you, but you as a whole is enough for him. he also does it as a way to show others that you’re his. he isn’t a crazy protective boyfriend, but he would prefer if others kept their eyes away from you.

- he LOVES when you shower with him. he lets you wash his hair and clean him up. it’s super cute and he does the same for you. if you have his back, he better have yours!

- not gonna lie, i see draken taking you out on his bike a lot. i know it can seem kinda scary, but this man would never put you in any danger. if anything, he thinks it’s kinda hot when you’re riding with him with your arms squeezing his torso. he likes to show you off that way, and it’s super fucking cute. he’s so fun to ride with to be honest. he also likes taking you on his bike whenever there’s a pretty sunset. his favorite thing is to watch them with you whenever you’re out for a ride.

- he loves to have little dates with you at home. i mention this a lot with the tokyo rev boys, but i just think it’s something they love doing. draken loves doing anything with you, and having a date at home would be one of them. he can cook. he will make a divine meal and you guys usually watch a movie or take a bath afterwards. usually, those two things lead to some nice action in bed later ;).

- lots of ‘i love yous’ are said randomly. he has no embarrassment telling you that he loves you on a daily basis. he always ends it with a little kiss too.

- “i love you, baby. i hope you know that.”

- cuddles! this goes along with the whole physical touch aspect, but he loves to cuddle you all the time. he’s able to relax when you’re safe in his arms at night. he loves being able to protect you <3.

- he totally lets you do his braid. sometimes if he’s bored, he’ll let his hair down and let you do whatever you want to it. it’s kinda funny whenever you throw it in weird styles or simply just brush your fingers through it. the braid is his favorite though, because he loves leaning his head between your thighs. even if you tell him to move forward, he fucking won’t. he’s addicted to those.

- “ken.. i can’t braid it like this.” “so what? let me chill here, princess.”

- overall, he’s a great boyfriend/husband. he craves domestic life more than you may think and you will be blessed with this man <3.

[missmisandrytabletalk]

If somebody wants to know how patriarchy looks like post-secularism in the modern times, then pls proceed to watch the Indian film "Animal".. but a pirated version on an illegal site ofc cause u don't want those sick filmmakers and writers to profit off of this abhorrently wicked of a misogynistic crap. I can't believe the bollywood industry has still not put a ban on ANY of the films this arsehole of a director has created. And the major thing that irks and concerns me is that how in the world any of those female actresses have agreed to work with a chauvinistic bigot on a film that glorifies and romanticises domestic violence, marital rape, cheating/illicit affairs, objectification of women, daddy issues, mental disorders, men having viking-like demeanour and a fuck boi persona & justifies child abuse, homicides, assault & mistreatment of women, inculcating Islamophobia and the list literally goes on. And then they are the same women you see advocating for equality and preaching about feminism like nah babe you should take your pseudo and performative feminism somewhere else cause this ain't doing shit! This is why i say that we NEED misandry more than anything in this world. This would be our only redemption arc.

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

  Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

 Chapter Word Count: 1762

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

——————————————————————

I'm Not Your F*cking Maid

Please read Prologue before starting.

Chapter 1

I sat in the window booth at the typical sleepy diner, tapping my fingers on the sticky wooden table and checking the time on my phone every minute. She was late. She was never late. And now I’m getting worried. I’m sure she’s fine, I had convinced myself as I reached for my backpack and pulled out an old tome on burial rights over various different cultures. I might as well read to distract myself whilst I wait for her to arrive. I try to relax into the monotone ambience of the room, and just as I get settled into the scrawling text on the ancient pages, a growling engine pulling up outside draws my gaze away from the long paragraph on ‘Cremation’. I return my attention back to the book after a second as the engine ticks over outside for a few more beats before being turned off. The waitress returns to my table to collect the empty beer bottle I’d drained when I first arrived; she smiled and asked if she could get me anything.

“Just another one of those please,” I smiled back, hearing the bell ring as the front door opened and my gaze jumped from the waitress to Charlie as she came skipping towards where I was sitting, sliding into the booth opposite me.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I’m late, I had an errand to run and it took waaaayyy longer than expected.”

“It’s ok, I was starting to get a little worried so I’m just glad you’re alright….” I felt my voice trail off as I felt the booth cushion dip as someone sat next to me. I whipped my head around and came nose-to-nose with a man I’d never met before; with the most enticing green eyes I’d ever gazed into and annoyingly kissable lips pulling into a devilish smirk. Just as those lips parted to speak, I blurted out without thinking:

“Who the fuck are you?”

He blinked in slight shock, and paused like he was rethinking what he was going to say. He opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted a second time.

“Dean, don’t sit so close,” another man, who I didn’t even realise was there, had sat down next to Charlie. He was taller, with impressive hair and softer features than this Dean guy, who was practically sitting in my lap and eyeing me up and down. Dean gave this other man a look as if to say ‘shut up’, before turning to me once more, devilish grin back in place. He opened his mouth to speak a third time right as the waitress returned with my beer.

“Here you are,” she said sweetly, not knowing she was interrupting as Dean threw his hands up in defeat at not being able to get a word in, slumping back in the chair. The waitress put the bottle down in front of me.

“Can I get anything for your friends?” She looked around the table and before either of the men could answer, Charlie jumped in;

“Three very strong coffees please.”

Dean huffed, “Oh so I can’t even order a beer?”

“You two boys have been living on pizza and beer for God knows how long. At least drink something that contains some water,” Charlie quipped, looking at them both like they were naughty children. She sighed when she realised they looked slightly ashamed of themselves. “Anyway, (Y/n), this is Sam and Dean. I know you’ve been looking for work and these two might be able to help. They’re good friends of mine and they’re-“

“Hunters,” I interrupted, feeling my blood start to run cold, “yeah I know who they are. Winchesters,” the name felt bitter on my tongue, like poison.

They must have noticed the change of tone in my voice because the table went quiet, even the mischievous glint seemed to have gone from Deans gaze as he looked at me with intrigue. Annoyed at myself for not realising who they were sooner, I grabbed my backpack and unzipped it, packing away my book. I stood up and glared down at Dean, about to bark at him to move when Charlie grabbed my wrist.

“(Y/n) what’s wrong? What are you doing? Please don’t go, we…they could really use your help right now.”

“And why should I? They’re the reason I’m struggling in the first place,” I paused, staring down at the two men who now had dark, ashamed expressions cloaking their features, almost like this wasn’t the first time they’d heard this side of the story where they weren’t always the hero’s. “They’re the reason my family is dead, and I’m all alone.” More silence hung over the booth like a dark cloud. It was Sam who spoke up after a minute or so, genuine sorrow in his eyes.

“(Y/n) I’m so, so sorry. Who-”

“Bobby Singer.”

The Winchester brothers shot each other a stunned look.

“B-Bobby?” Sam stuttered whilst Deans eyes widened. He looked like he’d taken a blow to the chest and had the air knocked from his lungs, “We didn’t know he had any living relatives…”

“He was my uncle,” Deans jaw clenched, “And you guys didn’t know because he knew I’d end up being used against him. I collected books for him to help you guys on all your bullshit missions, so haven’t I already helped you enough? Don’t you owe me some peace?” I threw my bag on the floor and picked up my beer, taking several gulps before slamming it back onto the table before continuing, the words just spilling out. “He was my only living relative for as long as I can remember. So fuck you guys for taking him away from me.”

“We loved Bobby,” Dean spoke suddenly in a grave tone and his gaze went dark as he stood up to face me. His tall form with strong, broad shoulders loomed over my much smaller stature, one of his fingers jabbing into my chest.

“Dean-” Sam started but was silenced by a wave of Deans other hand.

“You can get down off your high fucking horse if you think that you’re the only family that he had. You weren’t. He raised us more than our own father did, and I’ll be damned if I don’t think about him every day and wish he was here. You’re not the only one grieving him so stop acting like a precious little bitch and grow up,” Deans voice grew louder and more pissed as he spoke, and with every word he spoke he got closer and closer until he was right in my face, our noses almost touching. My heart rate was starting to pick up and I could feel the anger start to boil in my veins. Without missing a beat I threw my fist out and punched him in the face, making him stumble out of the booth and into the aisle in the diner. I heard gasps around me but didn’t look up. When the anger in my veins didn’t fade with the single punch, I didn’t give him a chance to gain his composure as I tackled him, making him fall on his back as I straddled him, my knees gripping his hips as I began punching him again and again right in that stupid face of his. Charlie and Sam seemed to sit there in disbelief for a few seconds before springing into action and lifting me off the older Winchester brother. Sam held me back gently but firmly as Charlie helped Dean to his feet, handing him a napkin from the table for the blood pouring from his nose and lip.

“You crazy bitch!” Dean spat.

“Fuck you!” I tried to break free so I could slap him but Sam held me tight.

The whole diner had gone silent as they watched me lose my shit, some amused but most were horrified. It took a few more moments of silence before they all went back to what they were doing and Sam let go of me, watching me like I was a time bomb. I heard Charlie giggle quietly.

“Holy crap (Y/n) I had no idea you had that in you. I’m actually a little impressed, you were always so quiet.”

“What can I say,” I turned to glare at Dean “I learnt from the best,” as I turned away I heard him mutter under his breath.

“Yeah you aren’t the only one.”

For a second time I saw red, and before Sam could grab me I spun on my heel and threw my fist out. CRACK.

*

The car doors slammed closed next to me after I was crammed into the back of Deans car. It wouldn’t have been that bad - the seats were oh so plush - if it wasn’t for the handcuffs tight round my wrists and duct tape across my lips. Oh, and that my thigh was rubbing up against the man that I had just assaulted. Dean was in the same situation with the handcuffs and the tape, his long legs having to spread wide so he can fit in the back of his own car. I could feel his gaze burning into the side of my face as I watched Sam and Charlie apologising to the diner staff through the front window. I was trying to find any sort of distraction right now, as Deans body temperature was hot and I could feel it through both his jeans and mine as he pressed into me. He was starting to make me sweat a little. Luckily it wasn’t long before Charlie and Sam hopped into the car, Sam in the drivers seat. They both turned to face us, smiles of bewilderment on their faces as if they were still processing what had just happened. Sam spoke first.

“(Y/n) is now officially barred from that diner, and honestly they wanted to call the cops. Charlie managed to save your ass as she still had her FBI badge on her,” he shot her a look and she grinned.

“So because now, you technically owe me a debt of gratitude, you will be staying in the bunker with the boys and helping them with their research.” She chimed, like she had won a game. In the end they got what they wanted.

I groaned and rolled my eyes. Of course. I heard Dean huff next to me, and he sounded just as displeased as I did. To be honest at this point, that’s fair.

Although he had it coming.

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Up Next

Chapter 2