#if you read through these tags i love you special

[street-smarts00]

Santa Doesn't Know You Like I Do

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Your first Christmas with Spencer and you get his name for secret Santa. 

WC: 1.8k

Tags: Fluff, Secret Santa, friends to lovers, one use of Y/N I think A/N: Sorry I went MIA :( I got busy with school. I hope to push out many ideas while I’m on break tho. Here’s something cheesy and festive for the holiday season I hope you enjoy! (not beta read don't kill me)

Nothing was right. Nothing you found was the right present. 

This was your first secret Santa with the BAU and you picked Spencer's name out of penelope’s mug. At first you thought it would be easy to buy a present for him because you knew him so well. In almost a year of being with the BAU you grew the closest with Spencer. 

What you didn’t expect was your present ideas to not live up to your own expectations. Nothing you came up with could live up to your own standards. Of course your “slight” feelings for him definitely affected this, but you tried to tell yourself that wasn’t true. 

You ran through dozens of ideas. Clothing, a new scarf, tickets for a play, special edition of a book he loved. But nothing felt like the right present. 

You almost gave up in your search for the perfect present for him. The gift exchange was in less than a week and you still had nothing. Sitting at your desk in the bullpen you considered settling with one of your first ideas. 

While getting up to refill your coffee mug you noticed Spencer’s attention was focused on his computer. He sat there deep in thought with his brows furrowed and lips in a fine line. When you walked by his desk you saw he was playing an online chess game. 

“Working hard or hardly working?” you joked. 

He popped out of his focus from your presence. “I finished my files a little early,” he responded bashfully. 

“Are you at least winning?” 

He smirked, “I’ve won four times. But that’s not even the fun part. The fun is doing different plays every time and seeing what the computer comes up with as the best response.” 

That’s when it hit you. An idea for Spencer’s gift. 

Finally something that felt like a good gift for him. At the end of the day you rushed out of work to go to the craft store and get your supplies. You worked on the gift everyday after work. 

Soon the weekend rolled around and you found yourself at Rossi’s. His living room had the biggest Christmas tree you’d ever seen. Everyone’s gifts sat there for the evening. After dinner you all sat down to exchange gifts. 

“I want to go first!” Garcia exclaimed. She jumped up from the couch and hurried to the tree to grab her gift for JJ. 

JJ excitedly opened the gift bag to find a small black and grey purse with a colorful crochet keychain. The idea that Garcia also handmade part of her gift gave you a sense of relief. 

“Oh this is so pretty. Thank you so much,” she beamed, admiring the bag and twirling the keychain. Garcia squealed in happiness before JJ offered a hug to her. 

JJ then handed over her gift to Rossi, a bottle of scotch. He smiled and thanked her for the bottle saying how his collection needed a new addition. 

He stood up and brought his hands together looking at the tree. “My turn.” He grabbed a thin box wrapped in silver sparkly wrapping paper and walked over to you. 

“For you, my dear,” he handed you the box. 

Your eyes widened and lips perked up at the gift. It may be a little silly but, part of you wished that you were Spencer’s secret santa. You reminded yourself that the possibility of you both picking each other's names was unlikely. The possibility of some things being the same between the two of you was … unlikely. 

You ripped back the paper to reveal a large eyeshadow pallet. Upon opening it, you saw an array of beautiful shades you couldn’t wait to try out. 

“Rossi, this is so sweet. I love it,” You thanked with a bright smile. 

Now it was your turn. Everyone’s eyes only made the moment more stressful. You got up and grabbed the box with a nervous hand. What if he didn’t like it? What if he thought it was too cheesy or corny? What if he thought it was useless as he already owned two of them?

You tried to quiet your thoughts as you handed him the box, but they had no intention of leaving.

“Merry Christmas Spence,” you said softly.

When you turned and walked back to your seat you neglected to see the rising blush on his face. 

Spencer glanced down at the white and red striped paper. He carefully peeled it off and opened the lid to reveal a chess set nestled in between red tissue paper. The board spaces were off-white and royal purple with corresponding chess pieces the same colors. When he picked up the wooden pieces and saw small leaves and flowers painted on them. The King and Queen specifically had crowns in a shimmering gold. 

“Wow look at that,” Emily admired.

Upon further inspection he noticed the small human imperfections in the details. The way not one leaf or flower looked exactly the same. Or how the clear coating over the paint was slightly streaky in some spots. 

“Did you paint this?” He asked.

You nodded your head and answered , “Yeah I did.” 

A faint “awe” could be heard across the room from Garcia. 

“Y/N,” Spencer started, his voice full of admiration. “This is … beautiful.” 

The butterflies in your stomach were getting restless. 

“Really?” you asked, not able to hide the smile spreading on your face. 

“Yes! It’s Perfect,” his eyes sparkled at you. “I love it. Nobody’s ever given me something like this.” He beamed at you with a smile that made you love sick. 

The realization that you both were not alone set in and Spencer cleared his throat before closing the box. The gift exchange continued as Spencer handed over a present to Morgan. 

The rest of the night was filled with catching glances and far away looks between you and Spencer. He seemed to feel more relaxed in a way after receiving your gift. Not that he was acting any differently. He just seemed more open. With the group and with you. 

You lived off that feeling the whole evening. The idea that you made him happy. You helped him see he was appreciated and loved. 

Not that he had to know you loved him. 

He didn’t know that. Right? 

As the hands on the clock passed you announced your departure and said your goodbyes. You stepped outside and felt a chill against your skin. 

You held tight onto your keys as you walked to your car. The snow had just started to fall. Occasional little flurries fell down from the sky. 

“Wait!” Someone yelled from behind. 

You turned to find Spencer trying his best to run but not slip on the icy parts of the driveway. When he got closer you noticed his cheeks and the tip of his nose were pink. Probably from the cold weather you thought.

“I wanted to formally say thank you for the chess set,” he explained. 

“You’re welcome,” you replied with a smile. You stuffed your hands in your pockets away from the cold. “I’m glad you like it. I was worried you’d find it cheesy.” 

He looked confused. “Why would I find it cheesy?” 

You shrugged, “because I hand painted it.”

“But that’s what makes it perfect,” he reassured. His voice is sincere and soft. “It’s personal and shows you care.”

His eyes widened. “Oh um-“ 

He suddenly remembered why he rushed outside and scrambled for something in his jacket pocket. It was a small cube shaped box wrapped in paper covered in snowflakes. Quite fitting for the weather.

“I know I technically wasn’t your secret Santa but I still wanted to get you something.”

You took the gift from him with a slack jaw. “Spence-“

“This isn’t because you were my secret Santa. I still wanted to get you a gift regardless,” he reassured. 

“I- Thank you,” you started unwrapping the gift. 

“It’s not homemade like yours but I hope you still like it.”

”It doesn’t have to be homemade for me to-“ the wind was stolen out of your lungs.  

The gift was a small gold and white music box you immediately recognized. You opened the lid to reveal a ballerina in a pink tutu spinning as Sleeping Beauty Waltz played. Your heart ached as you admired the tiny dancer.

”Is this the music box from that antique shop in Seattle?” 

While on a case in Seattle, you and Spencer went to an antique shop to ask the owner about evidence found at the crime scene that was purchased there. You fell in love with a beautiful music box in one of the aisles. 

“It is. I saw how you looked at it in the store and in the car you said it reminded you of when you used to do ballet. So before we left Seattle I went back to the store to get it for you. I thought it would make a great Christmas present.”

“But, that was three months ago.”

He sheepishly smiled and his cheeks only got more red. “Yeah, I had to keep it a secret for a while.”

Your heart rate started to pick up as the butterflies returned. “I can't believe you went back and bought this for me,” you muttered in disbelief. 

“Of course I would. You mean a lot to me and I knew this was something that would make you happy.” 

You admired the music box before carefully placing it in your purse. “Thank you so much. I love it.” 

His smile grew and reached his eyes. His eyes looked beautiful in this lighting. The Christmas lights from the house made them look practically golden. Even in the freezing cold you could melt from his eyes.

He shifted his weight and licked his lips. He seemed wrapped around the words in his head. “I also wanted to ask if maybe you’d want to go see The Nutcracker with me.” 

Your heart damn near stopped. 

“It’s playing at the theater downtown. I was thinking if we don’t get a case then we could go see the show on Friday. Maybe, if you want to, that is,” he rambled in nervousness. 

“I’d love to,” you beamed. 

His face brightened at your eagerness, but his nerves were still present. “But not as friends. As a date?” 

You chuckled, “Yes Spencer, I would love to go on a date with you. I think the nutcracker is a perfect first date.”

“Great,” he said with relief. “And maybe afterwards we might have time for a game of chess with my new board.” 

God he was cute. 

“That sounds great.”

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 3

Source for pic

Trouble 3

Word Count: 4959

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Dead Animals Mentioned; Reader in a terror-like state; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I should have chapter 4 already finished... but it's not completed yet... I haven't written almost anything this week! I know with the hollidays it will be hectic around here, but I have a few days where the office is going to be closed, so maybe I can write a bit more! Fingers crossed! Until then, please enjoy the calmness before the storm!

Masterlist

“Morning, Bug.” Shanks fills a mug of coffee for you and sets it down on the table near your plate of bacon and eggs, beside a bouquet of wildflowers. 

“Morning, Dad. Thanks for the coffee, but aren't the flowers a bit too much? It's not my birthday…” You mumble between yawns. 

“They're not from me…” Shanks smirks and nods at a note that's tucked in with the silk ribbon. 

Brow rising, your fingers brush the petals of a deep crimson poppy before they catch the note between them. ‘Wild and beautiful, just like you.’

What? Who? 

Despite the lovely gesture, you can't shake the slightest feeling of unease, it tugs at your stomach, leaving you queasy and suspicious. 

“Who's it from?” Shanks tries to hide his curiosity but falls short when he reaches over your shoulder to glimpse the note. 

“I have no idea.”

“Come on! Not even the slightest hint?” You shake your head while your mind conjures up images of a slightly not-safe-for-work dream you had with a certain green-haired cop, and you blush unintentionally. 

Obviously. Shanks picks it up. 

“You and Zoro seemed pretty cosy when I arrived yesterday…”

“It's not from him… I think.” You deflect the implications, not wanting to read too much into it yourself. “He’s not the type for grand gestures.”

Shanks hums in agreement while placing his coffee cup in the sink. “I see what you mean.” But then he places his hand on your shoulder, forcing you to look at his unbearable smirk. “Though do not underestimate a man in love.”

“Dad!” You feel your ears getting hot as you get up suddenly, looking for a vase to set the flowers on. 

“I’m just saying.” He shrugs. 

“He’s not… we… we’re just friends! I just got back.” You fuss with the flowers until they’re all spread beautifully on the vase and then set them at the centre of the table.

Shanks pouts and stares at you through the flowers, across from you. “Friends.” He air quotes with two fingers. “I’ve been there, Bug.”

“Agh! You’re impossible, Dad.”

But he might also be right. Because if last night was any indication, you and Zoro might be crossing the ‘just friends’ barrier soon. 

And, honestly, there’s nothing wrong with that. 

-*-

Shanks tells you to put a hold on your job hunt because he’ll be gone for about three weeks to a month for a horse show on an island in the South Blue and he’ll need you to take care of the animals and manage the farm chores. 

So you spend the next week getting reacquainted with most of your father’s tasks in addition to the ones you had taken over ever since coming back. 

The gifts keep coming. 

Every morning there are chocolates, or flowers, or stuffed animals, little trinkets… The notes are rather simple, always evoking your beauty, but short and nondescript. You are no closer to knowing who they’re from now than you were on the first day you got them.

Shanks keeps hinting that it might be Zoro, but you doubt that very much. Besides the fact that he’s not one for romantic gestures, he would’ve said something about the gifts after six straight days.

And it’s not like you haven’t been chatting… not in person, since you’ve been busy at the farm and he’s been pulling double shifts to have the Saturday off again, but you text every day.

Short texts, to the point, much like Zoro is, but he always asks how you are and if you need anything. 

And knowing he’s trying to take care of you leaves a very warm feeling in your chest. Especially because your clumsiness almost brought you to the clinic twice just this week. You have to thank whichever deity is watching over you because, even though you hurt yourself, it’s never serious enough to send you to the hospital. 

“When are you leaving?” You ask Shanks while packing beverages, muffins and a cake you’ve baked for today’s chosen group activity. 

“Let’s see, today’s Saturday, Beckman says his helper will arrive Monday morning to keep in charge of his farm, so sometime Monday afternoon, Bug. Why? Missing your Daddy already?”

You are.

“No! I just want to make sure you carry all of your medicine and that you have Dr. Law’s emergency contact with you, in case you need it–”

“I’m not going to drag Law all the way to the South Blue just because–”

“I called him and he said you should call anytime, so you’re going to call if you need him!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” Shanks has got to be the most stubborn man you’ve ever met. 

“Where are you going?” He hisses when you swat his hand away as he tries to steal a salty bacon muffin you’re storing in a container. Then you relent and let him have it.

“Just one, Dad! We’re going on a picnic in the park.” You say with a grin. “Nami organised it, of course. We’re going to spend the day hanging out, playing games, and socializing.” 

Shanks nods, never breaking your gaze, while trying to surreptitiously steal another muffin. This time you slap his hand with the lid of the container, and he yelps. His pout is quickly replaced by a smirk. “Is Officer Zoro going?”

You’re sure your nonchalant look can’t disguise the crimson blush tainting your cheeks, but you try to pay it no mind.  “Yes. And Luffy, and Usopp, Chopper, Sanji–”

“I was going to tell you to be careful, but I’m sure Officer Zoro is going to keep you safe from all harm.” Shanks taunts and you seethe, hands flying to your hips. 

“What are you, Dad, ten?” He guffaws as he successfully manages to distract you and steals another muffin before sprinting away from you and the kitchen.

“Be safe, Bug! Have fun!”

Seriously. How is this man a father?

-*-

Nami swings by your house with Vivi to pick you up for the picnic. You notice Robin’s absence in the car, and both girls giggle.

“Sabo’s picking Robin up. They’ll meet us there.” Vivi answers, and your mouth hangs open.

“Are they a thing?”

“Not yet, but it shouldn’t be long.” Nami laughs as she fixes her hair in the rearview mirror while waiting for the light to turn green. “Much like you and Zoro, I think.”

You choke on your own saliva, and it takes you a good minute to regain proper breathing functions, all while Nami and Vivi erupt into cackles and giggles. 

“We’re just friends!” You say after you’ve caught your breath.

“Sure, honey. We all believe that.” Vivi turns on the front seat to pat your knee in a condescending manner while you blush. 

“There’s so much heat coming off you two whenever you’re close that I don’t know how you still haven’t spontaneously combusted.” Nami quips, and you purse your lips. She’s not wrong there. “I mean, you’ve always sort of clicked, but now… daaaaamn!”

You sigh and bite your lip, trying to contain a giggle from erupting. “Who else is going to meet us there?” You ask, changing the subject and Nami shakes her head, knowing all too well what you’re doing, but not pressing on the matter. 

-*-

It’s a beautiful day for a picnic, and the park is the perfect setting for the beginning of a wonderful midday. There are rows and rows of trees, shade galore, small cobblestone pathways for long walks, and even a small creek providing a soft lull alongside the soft giggles of children. 

You and the girls are setting up rows of blankets on the grass, by the shade of the tall trees, when the group begins to arrive. You lift your head, hand sheltering your eyes from the sun, and scan the crowd. Luffy, Barto, Usopp, Kaya, and Chopper are approaching the treeline. They probably rode together.

A slight breeze dishevels your hair as your eyes linger behind, but there’s no green mane of hair in sight yet. An absent sigh leaves your lips before you spy Nami’s knowing smirk aimed your way.

She doesn’t say anything, but you blush anyway. Her unspoken words linger around you like a thick fog. You are eager to see Zoro. She knows it, you know it, hell, anyone who saw you two interact lately knows it. 

But you vow to retain some semblance of dignity and pretend to fuss over the blankets and small folding chairs. You’re so absorbed in your task that you don’t even see him approach.

“Hey there, Troublemaker, making trouble?”

The smile that graces your lips is instant and unstoppable. You turn slightly and bite your lower lip when your eyes meet his. Why does every shirt he wears seem so tight against his muscles?

“Hardly! I’m just setting up chairs!” But as you deliver the words, the chair you were opening snaps shut, almost catching your fingers, and you yelp. 

“You’re a menace.” His tone is both amused and resigned, almost as if he knew something of the kind would happen, was expecting it, even. 

“It attacked me!” You defend yourself weakly, a giggle bubbling up in your chest because he is right. You are a menace.

Zoro ends up helping you set the chairs, and you don’t even try to stop him. Both because you’re very likely to end up either hurting yourself or breaking a chair, and because he keeps brushing his shoulders and hands with yours, and the touch is welcomed. 

Robin and Sabo arrive with flushed cheeks - you can almost see Nami registering that fact for later probing - and soon after, Franky and Brook, two older men you still haven’t met but Luffy quickly introduces you to, saying they’re also part of the gang. 

You see Sanji already setting up food on the blankets, and he greets you warmly. “Hi, Sanji. You rode with Mosshead?”

“Oi?” Zoro snaps, and you ignore him.

“I did, Madame, and it was the most unpleasant ride of my life. Please remind me not to do it again.”

You giggle when Zoro’s brows knit together, his hands clenched into fists. “Tch, shitty cook, next time you ride with me, it will be in my patrol car and I’ll be dragging you straight to prison.”

Sanji starts to fume, his pursed lips crumpling the cigarette dangling from his lips, and you grimace. “Hey, hey, boys, it was just a joke!”

Nami sighs as they butt heads and continue arguing. “Never mind that.” She tells you. “Any chance they get to get up close and personal, they take it. They have a weird bromance thing going on.” She raises her hands defensively in the air. “I swear, for a moment there I thought they were going to be a thing, but Sanji loves women too much and Zoro is a man with a goal-oriented mind. Even if it’s someone he set his sights on a lifetime ago.”

Your brow raises at her as she smirks that all-knowing smirk. But she leaves it at that and stands in the middle of the boys, dragging Sanji by the scruff of his dress shirt, telling him the girls are hungry, which promptly sets him back to the task of setting up the food. 

“Shitty cook…” You hear Zoro mumble as he sets his hands in his pockets and kicks a blade of grass. It’s cute how flustered he gets. Then his eye sets on you and he frowns with a low grumble. “Oi, I didn’t forget you called me Mosshead.”

You set a hand on your heart, feigning repentance. “Oh, do forgive me, Mr. Mosshead. I forgot your title.”

“Trouble…” He lowers his tone in mock warning, and you smile, taking a step back, hands in a defensive stance. 

“Lord Moss, Knight–” Your antics are cut short by a piercing yelp when Zoro jumps and tries to catch you, but somehow, you swerve away from his grasp and start to run, an unbridled laugh filling your lungs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I was just joking!”

“Repentance doesn’t dissolve the crime! Come here, Trouble!” He sprints, though you suspect he’s hardly even trying, and you cackle, running faster, the voices of the group fading into the distance. 

“You’ll have to catch me first!” Maybe you should’ve measured your words, because as soon as he hears the challenging tone in your voice, he sprints faster, and you barely have time to breathe before his arm wraps around your waist and he swirls you in the air, making you scream and laugh before he pulls your back against his chest.

Heart pounding against your ribs, cheeks flushed from running and breath catching in your throat, you feel your legs shaking when Zoro’s warm breath tickles your neck. “Gotcha.” He whispers, and you notice he’s not even out of breath while you look like you ran a marathon. 

The world dissolves into just this moment. The chirping of the birds and the rustling of the trees are nothing but background noise to the deafening pounding in your chest and the buzzing in your ears. 

Turning your head slightly to the side, you catch Zoro’s eye fixed on you, a wild smirk on his lips. “What now, officer? Are you going to arrest me?”

Damn. That was supposed to come out playfully, not sultrily. Right?

“Depends.” Did his voice get huskier? “Are you going to resist arrest, Trouble?”

You feel your throat bobbing up and down at all the wild fantasies running through your mind. The way he uses that nickname manages to send shivers down your spine and heat straight into your core. 

“Obviously.” You sound breathless, and it's a good thing you can blame that sorry state on the run, or you wouldn't know how to explain it. 

“Figures.” He chuckles low, and you feel it rumbling in his chest. Then, with a swift movement, he turns you, bends his knees, and hoists you up, slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

“Wha–”

“Let's go.” Your flush deepens as you feel his strong hand against the back of your thighs, holding you in place. “The humiliation will teach you not to call me Mosshead.”

“Come on, Zo, I said I was sorry!” You whine, and he stiffens, his pace slowing for a beat, and you feel his shoulders shake slightly. Then he resumes his pace. 

“I like that.”

You stop pounding your fists against his back and raise your brow. “What? Me apologizing?”

He grunts and keeps walking, the blanket and your laughing friends nearly in sight. “That nickname. Way better than Mosshead.”

Oh! Zo! Another small blush creeps into your cheeks, but before you can reply, Nami whistles. “What you got there, Zoro?”

You hear your friends laughing and bury your face in your hands, feeling mortified. “Someone’s been naughty.” Zoro replies with a smirk and an edge of amusement in his tone. 

“Seriously?” You grumble, pushing against his back to try and wiggle out of his embrace, though it’s all for naught because he has an iron grip on your legs. 

“Well, either set her down so we can all eat or take her to naughty jail and punish her. Away from our sight, please.” 

“Nami!” You yell, exasperated, but Zoro merely chuckles, swerving right as if changing directions. 

“Naughty jail it is, then.”

“No, no!” You whimper. “I’m sorry!” Chopper stares at both of you, not sure if you’re being serious, so you try to take advantage of him and stretch your hand. “Help me, Chopper!”

He reaches his hand out before Nami swats it away. “Let them be, Chopper. They need some alone time.”

You seethe at Nami, a pout on your lips. “Traitor.”

Zoro lets out a low chuckle before settling you down at the edge of the blanket. “Learned your lesson, Troublemaker?”

You steady yourself, hands against his chest, and a permanent blush tattooed on your cheeks. “Damn you. I’m never calling you Mosshead again. You won.”

“I see you’re a fast learner.” His smirk is impossibly smug. “Zo’s fine, though.” Then he turns his back on you, opens the small cooler, and takes out a beer, cracking it open with one hand and chugging at it without another look back at you. 

And, damn it, if that doesn’t mess with your heart.

-*-

“Who wants another drink?” You ask and count the raised hands before getting up, heading towards the cooler to satiate your friends’ thirst. Zoro moves his hand before you reach it, and smooths the blanket before you can trip on its raised edge.

You smile at him, but he’s not even looking at you. His eye is shut, one arm behind his neck as he leans against the tree, though you know very well he’s attentive to everything. You pass the drinks around, then return to get your own.

“Watch your head.” Zoro mumbles, and you raise your brow but don’t heed his advice and, therefore, hit a low branch of the tree, releasing a string of curses while rubbing your forehead. “When are you going to start listening to me, Trouble?”

“When you stop sounding like a smug jerk.” You mouth, annoyed at his attentiveness and at how he seems to perceive danger before you even realise it’s there. He chuckles and you retrieve your drink, returning to your seat.

After a while of relaxing in the shade, Luffy drags everyone to a frisbee game. The boys are all down to play, but the girls just sit by a bench near the open space the boys chose to throw the frisbee and tackle each other. 

You sit on the back of the bench, a case of water bottles by your feet because you know the boys will be thirsty soon. Vivi sits on the grass in front of Nami’s legs, and Robin and Kaya are on the bench. 

After a small chit-chat about meaningless stuff, you decide to bring up something that’s been bothering you. “So I’ve been getting a lot of gifts lately…”

Four heads whip your way, and you sigh, already expecting that reaction and the bombardment of questions that follow. So you raise your hands, and they stop to let you continue. Though you decide to focus on the game in front of you instead of the way they’re all staring at you.

You especially focus on a very athletic green-haired man who constantly gazes up to where you are before focusing back on the game. 

“It’s flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals… It started last weekend, after the party at Luffy’s. They have notes, but nothing personal. No name, no nothing… I don’t know who they’re from, and I don’t even know if I should be flattered or freaked out by them.”

“How do they make you feel?” Robin asks, and you shrug, not quite knowing how to answer that question.

“The first ones made me feel good. I thought they were from– I thought I might know who they were from. But since he didn’t say anything about it, I doubt they're from him. So now they just feel weird…”

“Honey, we all know you’re talking about Zoro.” Nami says in a very condescending manner, and all the girls agree.

You sigh and bury your face in your hands. You’re so obvious it hurts. 

“Fine, yes. I thought they might’ve come from him, at first. But he’s not one for romantic gestures.”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly.” Nami quipped back, a smirk tugging her lips as her eyes fell back on the game. Sure enough, Zoro’s eyes are back on the bench - on you, to be more specific. “I think it’s quite romantic the way he’s always checking to see if you’re safe. Keeping you away from trouble and making sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

A small blush creeps its way into your cheeks. It is quite romantic. “That’s just Zoro being Zoro. He’s a cop. He protects and serves.” You roll your eyes.

“Oh, I’m sure he would like to serve you.” Nami giggles and all the girls try to stifle their own laughs. “But you’re wrong about that. Sure, he’s always attentive to any kind of threats, but it’s different with you.”

“What do you mean?” You can’t stop the way your heart pounds maddeningly against your sternum. 

“She means that Zoro doesn’t usually go out of his way to keep people from tripping on stuff or from bumping their head. And with you, he’s always extra careful.” Robin finishes with a small smile. 

“Like the way he’s playing now, but keeps looking at you to see if you’re still in one piece. It’s like he’s expecting you to spontaneously combust or something.” Kaya adds with a giggle. 

“It’s very endearing.” Vivi finishes, and your blush deepens, so you bury your head back into your hands, stifling a loud groan. 

“But you’re still right.” Nami continues as if you’re not breaking down in front of them. “I don’t think he’s the one leaving the gifts…” She laughs suddenly. “But there’s one way to tell for sure.”

You raise your head from your hand cocoon to tell her to keep her mouth shut, but Zoro is already halfway to the bench and you squeak. “Nami…”

“Hey, Zoro!” She starts with a wave of her hand. You see Zoro raise his eyebrow at her, his long strides bringing him closer to the bench. 

Shit.

He’s sweaty all over. Fat droplets of perspiration drop from his temples to his perfect jawline and neck, and you gulp, feeling hot and bothered. So, it comes as no surprise that when he reaches his hand to grab a bottle between your legs, you lose your balance and fall back on the bench.

Yelping, you expect to hit the floor with a dry thud, air escaping your lungs and sharp pain blinding you. Instead, you feel a strong hand wrap around your forearm and tug hard, then your face being squished against a muscular, sweaty chest.

Zoro saved you from an ugly fall. Again.

“Seriously, Trouble? Why?” His voice is gravelly and rough, but with an edge of exasperation lacing it. “I’m starting to feel like I have to be with you 24/7 or you’re going to end up in the hospital.”

Your breath is still leaving your lips in ragged gasps because of the slight scare of facing an inevitable fall, and your face is still pressed against Zoro’s chest. You feel the girls’ gaze on both of you and Zoro seems completely unfazed by it, while saying you’re embarrassed would be the understatement of the year.

So you disentangle yourself from the predicament that is Zoro’s muscles and laugh it off, a hand scratching the back of your neck. “Ah, thank you. I got… distracted.”

“By what?” He asks while taking a sip of water.

“Well, Zoro,” Nami begins, and he shifts his focus to her, “we were discussing who could be her secret admirer, and then you showed up. Curious.”

“Secret admirer?” Zoro’s gaze falls back on you, his brow scrunched.

“Ah, no. It’s nothing like that. It’s just–”

“She’s been getting gifts. Flowers, chocolates, love declarations…” Why is Nami exaggerating? Is she trying to fish for information or make Zoro jealous? “You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with it, would you?”

He drinks the water in three long gulps before answering, his scowl now permanently etched on his lips. “Do I look like the kind of guy who would do that?”

You look down and bite your lower lip. You knew it wasn’t him, but maybe, secretly, there was still a little part of you that hoped he could be showering you with that kind of attention. 

“Well, I just thought–” Nami begins, but she’s swiftly interrupted by Zoro, whose eyes can’t seem to leave your figure.

“When I want someone, I make it clear I’m interested. You’ll know.” He finishes drinking the water just as your eyes meet his, and the fire burning there scalds and melts. Was he telling you he’s interested? Was he saying he’s about to make a move?

With a smirk, he turns his back, grunts a gruff ‘try not to fall again, Trouble’, and gets back to the game, leaving you more confused than ever. 

“Did he–” Nami starts.

“Nobody says anything. We’re going to act like nothing happened.” You mumble before getting up and chugging down an entire bottle of water yourself to try and calm your nerves.

It doesn’t work.

-*-

The frisbee game makes everyone tired - and hungry - so, after all the bellies are filled again, the crew is relaxing in the blanket, enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon and the lulling sounds of the park. 

Chopper, Usopp, Luffy, and Barto are enjoying a card game. Franky seems interested, but he’s only overseeing and throwing advice that only seems to make Usopp lose the game. Robin has a book in her hands and Sabo’s head on her lap, his eyes closed with a blissful smile on his lips. 

You have serious doubts that she's paying attention to the book, especially since she seems to be stuck on the same page for over ten minutes, but you don’t say anything. Kaya is braiding Vivi’s hair and Nami is snapping photos of the crew, taking little candid shots with her cellphone. Brook is gracing everyone with a nice, mellow song on his violin - he's a wonderful musician - and Zoro seems to be sleeping peacefully, leaning against the tree.

Everything seems peaceful, quiet, and idyllic. 

But you can’t seem to shake the feeling of unease in the pit of your stomach. It’s like someone is watching you, but you can’t quite pinpoint who or where. It’s a prickling on your neck, something you’re already growing so used to that you start to think you should have this checked out by a doctor. 

With a heavy sigh, you stand up, stretching your arms to justify that action. “I’ll be back soon.” You say softly to Nami, who’s closer to you and she nods. Then, you look around before taking a step. The park is one big open space - with the exception of some trees here and there - except for the dense treeline behind you. 

So that’s where you’re headed. 

-*-

Zoro senses you getting up and opens his eye slowly, following you with his gaze and scowling when you don’t see the tree root sticking out and stumble a little before steadying your pace. 

You’re such a damn klutz.

And damn it, if he doesn’t want to be there to catch you and protect you from everything. 

His heart constricts slightly at the thought, and he sighs softly. He thought absence had made him forget how he felt about you. He even had some ‘relationships’ while you were away. Wait… can he really call something that never went past three months a real relationship? He never truly bonded with those women. Never truly cared.

No one ever made him feel the way you did.

The way you do.

But time and distance did nothing but make him pine harder for you. When Nami told him casually that you were returning, he almost didn’t believe her. You didn’t even come back for any of the holidays or to say ‘hi’, let alone come back for good after experiencing life in the big city. 

But you returned.

And then he thought he wouldn’t quite forgive you for having literally abandoned them. No text, no email, no letter, nothing. He would be salty, at least. Grumpy and upset, at most.

But he forgave you instantly. 

One look at your dishevelled form, chasing a goddamned tire with dirt all over your clothes and face, and he was a lovestruck teenager again. 

Fucking heart, what a useless organ. 

All those thoughts forgotten, he simply reached out. And you reached back, almost like no time had passed between you, and you could basically continue your story where you left off. 

And he was willing to try.

Though he didn’t want to rush too fast - damn Nami should just stop intruding and let you two figure things out yourselves. He’d get there. He almost kissed you already, so the feeling is mutual. 

He’s got time.

Sitting up, he watches as you peek behind trees, a cautious demeanour to your posture making him raise his brow. What the hell are you doing?

“Just go to her, dumbass.”

“Shut up, Witch. Mind your own business.”

Nami sticks her tongue out at him and snaps a picture of his grouchy face before turning her phone towards you and snapping another candid shot. 

“You look like a lost puppy in love. It’s cute, you know? The way you keep looking out for her.” Zoro feels his ears heat up and leans back again, trying to close his eye and return to a state of relaxation, but he can’t very well do that when you’re doing God-knows-what near the trees, looking creepily at everywhere and everything. “Just make sure you make your move soon… or maybe that secret admirer will one-up you and poof!” She makes an exploding gesture with her hand, and Zoro scowls at her. 

“You’re insufferable.” He quips before getting up and dusting his jeans.

“Word of the day? How smart of you, Zoro.” She giggles when Zoro passes by her and messes up her hair with his hand, earning an indignant gasp from the orange-haired girl. “I just went to the salon, you brute!”

Zoro smirks at her reaction and starts pacing towards you, Nami’s antics behind him. Well… all except one…

‘Make sure you make your move soon…’

Perhaps he should. He doesn’t want to lose you before even having the chance to have you.

Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks

[nightmare-of-homophobes]

You Know You're My Favourite - Avis Amberg X gp!reader

Words: 5,4k (more or less).

Summary: Avis searches for her favourite girl after a fight.

Warnings: porn without plot; NSFW; sub!Avis, Dom!reader; oral (both receiving); penetration (Avis receiving); swearing; use of titles; weird/unconventional power play; light praise kink; breeding kink; mommy kink; rough sex; flirts a lot with BDSM; tits play; implied previous conversations of boundaries; implied internal homophobia; implied unilateral love.

Tag list (those who commented or reblogged on the tag post): @alittlewitchyone @emilynissangtr @greek-freak101 @live-laugh-love-lupone @multixfan @thoroughly--confused @likealayka @thegoddamnfeels @kenzie-floops @amethyst-bitch @acciosoftbroom @missquints @mrsines

Special thanks to the lovely @live-laugh-love-lupone who kindly beta read this for me <3

English isn't my native language, so bare me! I didn't watch more than three episodes of Hollywood and hadn't written gp for a while, so I'm sorry if Avis is too out of character and if the sex is awkward 🥲. This story is based on an ask I received some time ago (I hope this finds you, anon!). I wanted to try something different by mixing the request - sub!Avis - with what I took from the character and from the fanfics I’ve read about her - the power play and titles.

Hope you enjoy it! Xoxo!

(Also, I wrote a good part of this while listening to “Red Wine Supernova” and “Good Luck, Babe!”, kind of mixing the songs to set the vibes to the characters.)

***

It was late and your shift was almost ending. It had been a boring day with no clients for you so you got pretty occupied with pumping gas and cleaning cars all afternoon. 

You were just about to go to the bathroom to change yourself out of your uniform when you heard a car approaching. You got irritated by that, but that slipped off your mind as soon as you recognized the car.

Putting on your best smile, you approached it.

– What a lovely surprise… – you said leaning into the window to look at the ginger woman. You didn't miss how she seemed distressed. – How can I help you, Mrs. Amberg?

– You're taking me to Dreamland.. – she demanded, her tone letting you know she wasn't in the mood for your playfulness.

You nodded quietly.

– I just need to let Ernie know you're taking me out. – you said and went back into the gas stations to do it, returning as quick as you could and entering the car.

She drove off the station in silence, the only sounds between you being the roar of the motor and the background sounds that driving through Hollywood involved. You could practically feel the tension irradiating from her body, so you put a hand on her thigh, slowly drawing patterns close to her knee - not wanting to drive her attention to you at all, but to calm her down a little. It seemed to work since she relaxed a bit.

– Tough day, mama? – you dared to break the silence.

– I don't want to talk about it. – she said, leaving no room for other attempts. 

– What do you want to talk about, then? 

She sighed loudly and you felt bad for pushing her, but she answered anyway:

– What about your career? Have you got any offers lately?

You hummed in confirmation. For some reason, Avis always liked to learn about her lovers and she loved to discover how you wanted to be a professional photographer. You deep down wished she would, one day, pose to you.

– Yeah, I'm covering an event this weekend. – you told her excitedly.

– That's great, what is it? – you told her the name of the event, but it wasn't one from her social circle so she didn't know it. – … But I know you'll do amazing, baby, you always do.

She met your eyes for the first time in the night, a small proud smile on her lips. That made your chest warm. It was good to know you had someone to make proud.

– You're just saying it because you know I'm a sucker for being told I'm doing a good job. – you accused her, earning a chuckle from her.

– You caught me. 

You fell into a very much lighter silence as she drove into the night. You weren't recognising the route she was taking, so you imagined it was somewhere she hadn't taken you yet. When she parked in front of an expensive looking hotel, you were sure you hadn't been there before. Not that she didn't take you to fine places, she did, but that was… Too much, in your opinion.

The parking valets opened the doors of the car for you both and you jumped out of it, feeling a little bit conscious of your clothes. Maybe you should've made Avis wait for you to change it when you were still in the gas station but now it was too late to regret.

Letting the ginger woman lead the way inside the hotel and into an elevator, you were able to relax again when the doors closed and you started to go up to your floor. But your relaxed state didn’t last too long since Avis was needier that night.

Being pressed against one of the walls of the elevator, your lips crashed against her red painted ones, her mouth as demanding as she always liked to portray herself. The kiss was messy and harsh, mirroring Avis mood and making you know exactly how she needed to be treated that night.

Holding onto her waist, you pulled her body flushed against yours, your tongue darting out to try its way into her mouth. As soon as she let it slip past her lips, you started to slowly dismantle her demanding attitude. Avis usually liked to have control over everything happening in her encounters, needing to guide what and how things would go. She tried to do it with you in your first encounters, but she was quick to discover that when it came to you, you simply wouldn't bend over anyone’s power without fighting for it - and that she honestly enjoyed having someone to tell her what to do sometimes.

You could still taste the wine on her tongue, which was another clear sign that something distressful happened and she really needed you to make her forget whatever it was that upset her. You could already piece together what probably happened: one more fight with the powerful Mr. Amberg. You didn't even know the man or had a hint of how he looked, but you despised him the same way. How could a man be married to a woman like Avis and not try to satisfy her?

The elevator’s door rang while opening and you quickly disentangled ourselves. She laughed at you.

– It's fine, doll. I made sure to rent a room on a floor that was empty. – she said, already leaving the elevator.

You laughed at yourself and followed her down the corridor. Your eyes didn't resist falling to her ass, admiring how rounded it was as you watched how her hips swayed as she walked. You couldn't wait to put your hands on it.

As she unlocked the door and pulled you inside the room, you met her halfway, crashing your lips together again as you closed the door with your foot before slamming her against it.

– Hmm, did you miss me that much? – she asked, putting her arms around your neck.

You hid your face on her neck, kissing and sucking it softly.

– No… I'm actually had been very busy fucking some pussies around. – you teased her, knowing how she could get jealous when at your work.

It worked because you heard how she grumply groaned and turned her face to the other side when you tried to kiss her on the cheek.

– Oh, mama, you let me get into your head so easily. – you poked her side. – You know you're my favourite client.

Though you meant those words, they left you with a bitter taste on the tongue. You had a strict rule of trying to not get attached to your regular clients, but sometimes you would get yourself wondering how it would be to be something else than just a prostitute to Avis. Something more.

But of course you would never speak those desires out loud. No. She was married and you were both women. And, in the end, she only saw you as a passing fun. Someone she could get distracted with when her true life got tough.

– You're distracted today… – she called your attention, making you snap out of your thoughts. She frowned. – What's in your head?

You let a peck on her lips, diverting her attention.

– Nothing at all. – you brushed off the topic. Letting your hands fall to her butt, you gave it a playful squeeze. – Now… What about going to prepare yourself for me? – you asked against her lips before leaning to her ear again. – I'm so hungry, mama…

You heard how her breath hitched and felt how her hands buried themselves into your hair. Leaning back to look at her, you saw how her eyes had darkened. You always loved to watch her eyes. Especially when she was under you trying so hard to keep them open while cumming around your cock.

Leaving your embrace, Avis went to the double doors in one of the walls of the living room (that you only noticed once she approached because you were too busy paying attention to her before), opened it and disappeared inside of it. The bed was probably inside those doors. You heard another one being opened before the shower was turned on.

She always liked to dress up on encounters like that, but she liked to be extra clean and use her fanciest gowns and lingerie for you. She was sold for compliments and you suspected that was a thing for her.

Trying to busy yourself, you poured down two drinks, swallowing yours in one go.

You hadn't to wait too long before you heard heels clicking on the floor and arms flew around you to embrace your body tightly.

– Do you want a drink? – you asked softly, enjoying how she cupped your breasts and kissed the back of your neck.

– Right now I just want to drink whatever comes out of you. – she answered, sending shivers down your spine.

– I can arrange that. – turning on her arms, you started to undo your belt, feeling how she was getting impatient. 

Drinking the shot of whiskey you had poured for her, you swallowed a little before bringing your lips closer to hers. She quickly accepted it, opening her mouth so you could spill the drink into it. Of course that wasn't what she meant, but she wouldn't deny you.

Kissing down her cheek and her jaw, you buried your face back on her neck, your hands found the knot of her robe to untie it. She was smelling so good you wanted to wrap yourself around her and never leave.

– I like this colour on you… – you muttered against her skin, hearing her whimper softly. – But unfortunately I need this off.

Letting it slide off her shoulders, it was your turn to lose your breath.

– Did you like it, baby? – she asked with a sultry smile and tone, faking innocence. She knew you liked it. Actually, she could feel just how much you liked it.

There, standing confidently in front of you, she was wearing a red corset that hugged her curves perfectly, but that wasn’t all. Your eyes ranked up her legs, admiring the black long socks attached to something underneath the corset - probably a, also black, garter belt. Finally, your eyes met what you considered to be the cherry on top: lace black panties that left so little for your imagination.

You ran your fingers over the details of the corset, your mind already picturing how it would be to take it out of her later. The rest would stay in place, it wouldn’t bother you.

– I loved it. – you said, playing with her garters. – And because of it I’ll let you pick what we’re doing first. What do you want baby to do? – you asked, pulling her hips closer so one of your knees was placed between her legs.

Under your intent gaze, Avis squirmed. She enjoyed your attention so much. Starting to undo the buttons of your white shirt, she asked:

– You mentioned being hungry, right? 

You laughed and helped her to get yourself undressed. Once you got rid of your shirt, tie and shorts, your hands returned to her hips, starting to push her in the direction of the couch, you made her sit down. She made mention of untying the garters but you pulled her hands off it harshly.

– None of it, I didn't ask you to take it off. – you reprimanded her while kneeling on the floor.

– I don't need your permission… – she said under her breath and lifted her hips towards you.

One of your eyebrows shot up as you looked at her. So she was naughty tonight? How bad.

– Are you looking to be punished, mama? – you asked severely. – You know how long I can keep you on edge.

She seemed to fight her pride and own words before looking away and muttering:

– I'm sorry.

– That's better. – you tapped the side of her thigh, satisfied. – Now where were we…

You spread her legs, starting to kiss the insides of her legs and massaging her feet while doing it. She loved receiving a good massage. 

– Yes… – she sighed, opening her legs even more, if it was possible.

Her skin was smelling so sweet and her socks brushing against your bare skin were so soft that you were feeling yourself getting hard faster than usual. Avis would certainly drive you mad anyday.

– Baby, please… – she whined, her hips bucking in the air, asking to be touched. – Please, Mama's so hot…

Complying with her requests, you brought your lips higher, your fingers cleverly finding her panties and pushing them to the side. You licked from her entrance to her clit, feeling how she clenched and how the foot you were still holding curled into your hand.

Bringing your hands to her hips, you pulled her further to the edge of the couch, placing her legs over your shoulders.

– Look at this, mama.  – you breathed against her core, letting soft kisses all over her mound and playfully sucking at her bundle of nerves, feeling her squirm and moan shakily. – Your pink hole is so wet for me already, I bet I could slip inside right now without any trouble… – you fully slid your index finger into her fluffy folds as if to prove your point to her. – See?

– God… – she groaned and you could feel how her hands were clutching at the couch on your sides. She could feel your finger searching for her weak spot, scratching her walls sweetly in its path.

You were steadily letting kitten licks on her clit, your finger caressing her point over and over again, reducing her to a pathetic moaning mess. When you started to suck her, her hands flew to your head, holding you impossibly closer.

– Fuck! Yes! – she rolled her hips against your mouth, starting to ride your face in chase of her orgasm.

You let her do it while adding another finger inside her, scissoring and opening her so you could replace it with your tongue later. 

– Hmm… Mama, you’re taking me so well. – you complimented her, your voice sending vibrations against her clit, making her grind harder against you. 

Her moans were louder with each thrust of your fingers, every rub of her clit against your tongue making her legs twitch and her hole clench around your fingers. You knew she was so close and you were loving it. Satisfied with the stretching, you finally slipped your tongue inside her, tasting her flavor straight from the source. 

Her grip on your hair tightened, her thighs creating a fluffy - and strong - cage as they closed around your head. A loud, obscene moan left her lips, her whole body losing control as she reached her orgasm.

– Ah, baby! Fuck! Fuck! – she cried out.

Her walls were tightening so hard around your tongue it was practically expelling you from inside her and you couldn’t help but whimper at that. Staying still, you let her use your mouth to ride her orgasm.

You caressed her thighs all the while, soothing her and waiting for her to calm down. It didn’t take her long before you could finally free yourself from her legs, resting your head on her thigh as you had done before. You looked up at her with what you knew were your loving eyes.

– Everything alright, mama? – you asked as she panted, her chest rising and falling heavily. 

All you received from her was a soft groan, her eyes shut tightly. Getting up from the floor, you sat on her lap, drawing her attention back to you. 

– I’m fine. – she said dreamingly, opening her eyes to meet yours. 

– That’s good… – you said and leaned to kiss her.

She welcomed your mouth with her tongue, more than willing to taste herself on yours, moaning at it.

– Can you taste how sweet you are, mama? – you mumbled against her lips, making sure to press your tongue down at hers, wanting her to commit her own taste to her memory.

The kiss was heated and messy and you didn’t even notice when you started to roll your hips on hers, brushing your covered erection against her corset, missing the feeling of her chubby belly. You liked the corset, it was pretty, but you liked even more to have her breasts and tummy on display.

– Stand up, let me take this thing from you. – you panted against her lips, getting off her lap to sit beside her.

She did it and you pulled her down on your lap, moaning at the feeling of her ass hugging your dick perfectly. She rubbed her ass over you playfully, earning a quick slap on her right buttcheek, which made her quiet down.

Starting to open her corset, you took the opportunity to also undo her complex updo. She usually didn’t let you do it, since it took time to put her hair back in place, but you didn’t think she was planning going anywhere or returning home that night. As you finished with the corset and brushed her hair with your fingers, admiring its redness, you made no effort to resist reaching around her body and taking her big boobies into your hands, loving their weight and softness. The sigh she let out told you how relieved she was to get rid of the corset.

– Feeling better, Mama? – you asked while playing with her breasts, squeezing them and rubbing her nipples to get them hard.

She only hummed in answer, her ass not staying still on your lap, teasing you as much as you were teasing her. You kissed your way to the back of her neck, biting down hard on the skin there, making her squirm and whimper above you, her hands reaching up to hold yours in place. You pinched her nipples and flicked it on your fingers, making her breath get elaborated again.

– Baby, please! – she finally gave up, understanding you wouldn’t take any action if she didn’t beg. – Please, I need you… – she tried to push one of your hands down to her pussy but you prevented her from doing so. – Please, I need you inside me so fucking bad!

Reaching to her neck instead of between her legs, you held it and squeezed it weakly, pulling her towards you until her head was on your shoulder.

– You know what to do if you need my cock that much. – you said against her ear, enjoying how her desperate eyes found yours. Such beautiful eyes.

You smirk down at her and bite her ear softly.

Sliding down from your lap, she got on her knees before you, her hands fumbling with your tight underwear while letting mouth-opened kisses on your erection through the cloth. She looked so sexy doing that.

– Aren’t you forgetting anything, mama? – you asked and she looked up at you confused. You gestured for her to keep eye contact and she nodded.

Letting her take control of that small moment, you leaned back on the couch helping her to take off your underwear by raising your hips. She bit her lips at the sight of your cock on display.

– See how excited I get everytime you come to see me, mama? – you asked, running a finger on her lower lip before slipping it inside her mouth, watching how she accepted it, sucking it into her mouth.

Bringing her closer by her chin, you let her replace your fingers with your cock, sighing heavily at the velvety and warm sensation of her mouth around you.

– That's it, mama… – you hold her head, not leading her, just letting it rest there. – Take it all inside.

She obeyed, bit by bit taking all your length into her mouth, not having any trouble. The idea of her being so used to doing that kind of turned you on. Between the two of you, you might have been the prostitute, but she was definitely the slut.

You moaned as she bobbed her head up and down a few times before returning to your head, sliding her tongue against your slit.

– Fuck, mama... – you bite your lower lip, your free hand going to your tits to play with them. – You know exactly what to do to make me lose control.

You groaned when she sucked the head, her cheeks hollowing as she did and her eyes searching your reactions through heavy lids and battling of lashes. That woman would certainly kill you one day.

Letting her work her magic on your cock, you took that moment to just enjoy the pleasure she was giving you, focusing on your sensations as soft groans and moans kept falling from your lips, your chest heavy and heart racing as you watched how she switched between sucking your cock and teasing the slit at the tip or sucking your balls while jerking you, all the while never breaking eye contact.

– You're doing so fucking good… – you panted as your release started building, your dick throbbing into her mouth. You almost came when, in one go, she put all your length deep inside her mouth, the tip reaching the back of her throat. – Fuck!

You held her head in place, closing your eyes at the intensity of the wave of pleasure that teased you, unaware of how she also closed her eyes, moaning around you and sending another wave through you. She always found it so hot when you were rough with her and she could feel her arousal sliding down her thighs, her pussy aching to be filled again as she made her best to not gag around you. You released your grip on her.

– Keep going, I'm so close. – you gasped.

With that, she doubled her efforts, your hips bucking to meet her meet her mouth halfway, your cock brushing the back of her throat at every damn thrust. A strain of swears were falling from your lips and, when you finally couldn't help it anymore, your hand hooked into her hair and you harshly set the rhythm you wanted, making her choke sometimes while supporting herself on your thighs, trying to relax her jaw the most as she let you fuck her mouth. She knew her throat would be on fire the next day but she didn't care. She would never stop you from doing what you wanted to her. 

She was exactly where she wanted, receiving exactly what she needed.

With a final rough thrust up, you held her still, cock buried impossibly deep inside her as she fought the urge to push you off her so she could breathe. When she couldn't take it anymore, she patted your thighs and you let her go while growling through your orgasm, your seed spilling from her throat to her face since she couldn't hold your dick down her throat for so long. 

Both of you were breathing heavily for totally different reasons.

– Sorry. – you apologized as soon as you got enough air to do it.

Her head was resting on your hip, her hair in all directions. Her face was flushed and painted with your cum while her lips were swollen and her cheeks had stains of tears. She was a fucking mess.

– It's okay, doll… – she muttered raspy, her chest rising and falling in quick puffs as she still was trying to calm herself down. – You know I like it.

Gentler than you were before, you ran your hand through her hair, putting it a bit back in place, not because you were finished with her, but because you wanted to bring her some tenderness after such roughness. You waited until she was ready to keep going.

Watching her standing up, you stood too, catching her lips into your in a soft, caring kiss.

– You know we can stop at any moment, right? – you reminded her in a whisper.

– I want to continue. – she reassured you. You nodded.

Taking her by the hand, you led her to those double doors, entering it to find your way to the bed. It was very large and fit the luxury of the place.

– Get on the bed. I'm gonna get another drink. – you said while caressing her back.

As she moved to do so, you returned to the other room, pouring you a drink while you still felt cloudy from your previous orgasm. Something strong like whisky would definitely help, you thought to yourself. Yet, it wasn't the whisky at all that snapped you from your current state of mind, but the vision of your tie lying in a corner of the room. An idea popping into your head.

Drinking the liquid in one go, you walked over and picked up the tie, returning to Avis immediately.

You weren't waiting to find her on her fours on the bed, waiting for you with her ass high in the air and face buried in the sheets. All the while she was touching herself, two fingers deep inside her drenched pussy.

That pissed you off.

– I didn't say you could touch yourself! – you exclaimed as you reached over and pulled her fingers out of her harshly. –You’re really looking for that punishment, lady!

You turned her over so you could pin her down, you face hovering over hers as you angrily asked:

–Now choose… – you lifted the tie. – Hands or eyes?

She didn't miss a beat before answering:

– Eyes. – she could bear not being able to see, but being restrained was a torture for her.

You grimaced at her answer, an unsatisfied expression on your face. 

– You don't deserve it. – you said. – Mama has been acting very bad.

You flipped her over again, using your weight to hold her still as she fought you and your decision to tie her hands instead. As you finished, you leaned and growled on her ear: 

– You will learn how to please your baby!

Getting off her, you helped her to return to her previous position: ass on the air and face buried in the sheets. Aligning your dick with her entrance, you entered at once, knowing that she was more than prepared after so much teasing. She moaned unashamed at that, ass moving to meet your hips halfway.

– Yesss… – the word lingered on her tongue, turning into a hissing as you slapped her ass once more.

Settling a steady rhythm of thrusts, you watched, hypnotized, how her pussy took your cock so well, as it was designed especially for you. A soft and warm place for your dick to rest and empty itself.

Oh, that was another great idea. You would adore to cum inside Avis again and again until she was filled and carrying your seed deep inside her.

Keeping to fuck her in that slow and steady rhythm, you knew exactly what you were doing to her: making her lose her mind again. It wouldn't take long until she was pathetically begging again, her brain melting from having what she wanted from the start but it not being enough to satisfy her.

And you were right, it didn't take long.

Once she realised you had no intention in changing your pace, she cried out muffled:

– Baby, please… – she tried to fuck herself against you, but reaceived another harsh slap. – Mama is so sorry, please… She won't do that again… Please, please, please… Mama will do anything baby wants her to do, promise… – her whimpers keep going, but you already have heard the words you wanted to hear so you leaned into her again, one hand getting tangled in her hair again.

– Anything, mama? – you asked and, to provoke her, you gave a particularly rough thrust. Just the way she liked.

– Yes! Fuck, yes, please… – she cried.

Your free hand winding its way through her body until it finds her clit, rubbing it in tight circles, enjoying how she gasped and moaned even louder.

– Do you know what I would love, mama? – you kept whispering against her ear. – To have you carrying my babies… – a soft “yes” came as an answer and you closed your eyes. – Wouldn't it be lovely, mama? Me buried deep inside you? Feeling you so good? Spilling all my seed so mama could take it in her perfect body for me? It would make me so happy, mama… 

Hearing her confirm every question you made her was an otherworldly experience, but the words that set you wild were those who came from her lips in sequence of that:

– Please, love, give me your babies… I'll carry your babies, please…

Pushing her face against the mattress harder and holding onto her tied hands, you started slamming into her, the sounds of your skins meeting each other extremely obscene. You were panting and whimpering, lost in Avis body as you finally gave her what she was so pleased to beg for, her moans fully turning into screams of pleasure now, her hands twitching and trying desperately to free themselves from the tie while her toes curled and she bit the sheets to muffle her sounds.

Every thrust of yours sent her higher on her from the force you were using to fuck her, almost as if trying to forge your bodies together, so it was a good thing you were keeping a good hold on her, otherwise her head would be banging against the headboard.

When she started clenching painfully around your cock, you knew she was close to her orgasm. You were too. Flipping your positions, you laid on bed and pulled her above you, untying her hands so she could support herself to ride you. 

– Yes! Yes! Gimme your babies, yes! – she kept exclaiming as she bounced hard up and down the entirety of your length, seeming to want as bad as you to bury your cock deep inside her. – Fuck, yes, mama feels so good! Mama is gonna cum!

You helped her to bounce, supporting her hips and meeting them with yours halfway as well, wanting to make her cum again. 

Sitting down on the bed, you held her hips down, burying yourself inside her while helping her to grind on you, one of your hands searching for her clit to send her over the edge. You were feeling goosebumps all over your body and it was becoming harder to fight your orgasm.

– Cum for me, mama, please. – you asked and, lowering your head to her chest, you caught one of her lips into your feverish mouth, sucking it hungrily.

That was enough and, with her orgasm finally washing over her, she stopped her movements, her entire body tensing up.  Being squeezed like that, you didn't even try to resist your own orgasm, spilling yourself inside her body as a guttural moan escaped from the back of your throat.

Both of you stayed still, practically breathing each other's air as you panted with your foreheads pressed together. For a long moment, none of you dared to move, both sensible to touch and still feeling the aftershocks of your blissful orgasms. Finally, you turned her again on the bed and slipped out of her, both of you moaning from the loss of the sensation.

You watched how your seed spilled out of her mistreated hole once you were out. You weren't preoccupied with coming inside her. She was past her fertile age and you were infertile, so there was no risk at all.

Laying beside her, you welcomed her into your arms.

– Feeling better? – asked softly, running your fingers through her hair and kissing the top of her head, your eyes were feeling so heavy.

– Much better. – she said and yawned.

– Go to sleep. – you told her, knowing that all would end very soon.

Soon she would have to return to her husband and you to your clients. Soon she would pretend that all those nights with you were nothing more than usual fun, even though both of you know she had stopped seeking other prostitutes after finding you. Stopped seeking men.

And you, well, soon you would have to pretend that you didn't let her affect you. That you didn't let yourself hope that, one day, she would need more than just sex. And, certainly, that you didn't caught yourself thinking of her when fucking others or wishing she would accept what the nature of your encounters were saying about her.

– Good night, doll. – she said sleepily.

– Good night, Avis. – you answered, kissing her head once again.

You knew she would have already left you when you woke up the next morning.

.

.

.

.

Comments are very appreciated because I'm a sucker for validation!

[annaisabookworm]

Seasons Greetings

Listen to your fav holiday song while reading!

Merry Christmas/ Happy Holidays to all my favorite authors and mutuals and friends! You all have written amazing stories that helped me get through the year I look up to you all so much. I hope you all have the best holidays and new years. I can’t wait to read more stories to come from you all. Everyone here on this app is so kind and supportive. I’ve never felt a community so supportive and caring. I am going to try to tag everyone who I would like to thank (this will take hours) and I just love you all and anyone who is reading this. Whether I was reading Harry Potter or Percy Jackson or Outer Banks or Stranger Things or the hunger games or the marauders or twilight or the most niche fan fictions I was just like to thank you very much for giving up your time to write amazing incredible stories. You have truly made me your special and giving me the joy of being able to immerse myself into a world of my dreams is truly a gift thank you so much.

@shiftingwithmars @multific @axelsagewrites @dontblamethewitches @frost-queen @george-weasleys-girl-deactivate @julesinsummer @moondancediner @xoxochb @starkeysprincess @randomoutsiders @riddlemenott @riddlesb1tch @notrafecameron @nottswitch @nottsbaby @slytherinstories @slytherinsmuse @slytheringangstuff @slytherslvt @likedaylighht @sethsclearwater @cherrixpie

Feel free to tag people you’d like to thank aswell! I love you all!

[thaltro]

Hey there, I saw your recent post and just have to say that once upon a time when I was bored I decided to check out the tumblr tag for ut au's even though I'm not as interested in it anymore as I was before just to see what's been happening in the fandom then found out about your account and fell in love with your art!

I haven't been into UT AU's in a while but I still stalk your account just because I love love love your character designs and the concept of nightwatch (I'm checking your profile every now and then just to check if there's any announcements on it like a madman) and the way you draw and color. If it wasn't for the fact that I need to be stingy with my money these days I'd genuinely commission you 😭‼️

Idk how I'm supposed to end this note but I just rly wanted to show the appreciation I have for ur art you genuinely inspire me to create <33

(PS Atrophy's design is so cool where'd you get the inspo for it I have to know)

This is genuinely really sweet

I’ve been working on commissions, just checked my inbox and I have a lot of sweet messages like this one- I’ll answer as many as I can soon it is 2- almost 3 am (time zone reveal) so I’ll sleep soon.

I’m really surprised people genuinely like my au, even though I’m not getting as many interactions (for some reason TikTok is pretty consistent- just not here?) I’m most confused at people actually caring 😭

Besides my beta readers and the few people I’ve spilled all my nightwatch lore too for no good reason, there’s a good handful of sweet people who like my posts without even knowing the full story. That means alot to me, like alot alot.

It’s nice hearing from people who used to be in the fandom and somehow came across my stuff. I kinda want to attract that crowd, I really don’t understand the newer fandom as i was introduced to the utmv when I was like 11 and the old fandom holds a special place in my heart.

Oh and to answer your question- Atrophy’s design is based off of men’s clothing from the 40-80s, his main outfit is 70s talk show hosty but he has a lot of different outfits. I’m a history nerd so I just go through old fashion books haha. His design is supposed to embody wealth and “manliness”. His tie is supposed to be an arrow which is a reference to his past, his red gloves are worn because he’s proud of being “red handed” and isn’t ashamed of the blood he’s spilt. He wears a moon mask that covers up any of his expressive facial features because he thinks it’s funny when his victims can’t read his expression. Atrophy purposely dresses like a villain, that’s what he sees his role as after all- might as well have a good costume.

Thank you for the ask, it cheered me up

[highlordofkrypton]

This is the story of Lucien Vanserra, as told in his own words, of his journey through his immortal life. Lucien recounts how he, a vampire, fell in love with the radiant and innocent Tamlin and how he destroyed both of their lives.

Finally, the time has come for your main gift @yaralulu for this year's @acotargiftexchange. This is the first of five chapters, so I hope you are seated and ready for bloody and toxic yaoi! Special shoutout to @olenvasynyt in this chapter, hope you like it and thank you for the inspiration!

TAGS: Explicit (oh yes, there will be smut), Lucien Vanserra/Tamlin, Alternate Universe - Vampire. More tags to be added along with new chapters.

READ ON AO3 OR UNDER THE CUT.

Vampires aren’t real.

If they were, surely the world would know about them by now? Science has advanced far too much, along with surveillance and weaponry. There’s no way that a vampire could get away—

No, they could.

The nights are more active with workers and party goers alike keeping the streets alive. People go missing all the time, and the understanding of disease and unique conditions could easily explain away the symptoms of vampirism. Fear of the sun? No, an allergy—skin sensitivity. Sunglasses? It’s nothing more than the consequences of a hangover. Nesta has seen it all, and she unravelled every single thread with plausible explanation and proof. If this one doesn’t work out, then she’ll know: vampires aren’t real.

Her manicured fingers trace the winding banister, up to a plain apartment. She would have imagined something much more wondrous and lavish for someone with the means to live forever, thus accumulating limitless wealth. Instead, he lives among the people, blending in with what would be his next meal. I could be next, she remarks, made of flesh and blood just like his neighbours. Is this worth it?

Curiosity is an insatiable hunger, and poverty deepens it. This could be the discovery of the century, and it would have her name on it. Nesta Archeron would carry her surname out of disgrace and finish her father’s work—the work that had him branded as a madman. People are much kinder to her, likening her interest as esoteric. It works in her favour that witchcraft and astrology are becoming more and more on trend. But she doesn’t want to be a trend. Her hunger lies in the truth, no matter how painful and terrifying. Her work is Putlizer worthy, she just needs the right subject.

Her knuckles rap at the door, just below the metal plaque written ‘406’.

Nesta had met the breathtaking stranger at the bar, drinking her woes away. Another opportunity slipped through her fingers in favour of lesser, more amenable male colleagues. Her mouth is too sharp, and her brain too smart. Maybe journalism isn’t for me, she’d lamented into a glass of whiskey, and at that very moment, he’d slid into the stool beside her. Her lips parted to reject him, but they hung there in muted surprise as she stared. He was beautiful, except beautiful didn’t cut it. He was breathtaking, so much that she could not find the words to express the depth of his handsomeness. Not quite pale, his pristine skin carried an olive undertone which she was sure would ripen nicely under the kiss of the sun, if he cared to venture out into it. His eyes—one amber, and the other pure gold—glinted in the darkness, as if stealing the light in the very room. There wasn’t enough light to make them glow like that, but that made him all the more entrancing. His long auburn hair was tied into a loose bun, strands artfully placed around his face to frame his high cheekbones and sharp jaw. He was so beautiful that she could not doubt that he was something more.

They got to talking, and he made her laugh in ways that were not obnoxious or at her expense. His flirtations were smooth and subtle, but not so much that she did not notice. His words were like the undertones of sweet maple in her drink—present, but not overwhelming and yet, it marks the difference between a good whiskey and everything else.

“I have your story,” he said so easily, as if changing lives were something he simply did at the drop of a hat. “Do you believe in vampires, Nesta?” He slipped a card into her pocket, and she had run her fingers over the gold printed address over and over again before finding herself here. 

The door swings open, and there he stands, nearly a foot above her in all his ethereal glory. His red hair had been let loose to fall across his shoulders like soft silk. She yearns to reach out and touch, her curiosity running wild in his presence. Instead, she tightens her grip on her purse and tips her chin up in defiance of the nerves bubbling inside her.

“You’re here.” The velvet of his voice sends shivers down her spine, and the delicate smile makes her weak. Does he know its power? He has to. His confidence is unmistakable. “Come in, Nesta.”

The apartment is modest, to say the least. It is the antithesis of its inhabitant who naturally commands a crowded room. Here, in the plainness of the room, he is the only thing that matters and it makes her painfully aware of him and his every movement.

He takes her coat, but she keeps her purse, and guides her to the small living room. He sweeps his slender hand towards the single seat while he takes the couch across from her. His arm rests along its back, extended and possessive, and he crosses his long legs. Although he’s the one being interviewed, his gaze weighs on her. It dissects her, and his thoughts are unreadable. He is nothing more than pleasant, patient and willing.

Nesta quickly takes out her things, as if not to waste his time—as if he didn’t have plenty of it. Her recorder is placed between them on a cheap ikea coffee table of pressed wood; she prefers it over using her phone, too easily distracted by the pop of notifications if she were to leave it out within view. In her lap, she keeps a notebook and a pen to jot down any questions that float to mind so as to avoid interrupting him.

“Are you ready?” He asks her. “Do you have enough battery on that?” His eyes flicker down to the recorder.

“I have my phone if ever,” Nesta explains. A small part of her thinks this is some kind of prank, and that she came all this way for nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time I went home with a man and ended up disappointed. What do I have to lose?

She sits back into the chair. “You were saying vampires were real?”

“I’m not just saying. They are real.”

Nesta smiles, and chuckles softly. “You’ll have to excuse me if I seem… incredulous. In my line of work, people make bold claims all the time and they rarely have the proof to back it up.”

If her resistance bothers him, he doesn’t show it. He is nothing more but comfortable. He watches her for a long moment, smiling again. His lips spread to bare his teeth, and the smile widens and widens to reveal two pointed fangs in place of his canine teeth. Before Nesta can argue about the use of false teeth, his eyes light up, and he speaks a single command: “Undress.”

Oh, yes, she would like that. She would like nothing more than to please the man before her. Nesta looks down, fingers darting to the buttons down the centre of her shirt. She frees the topmost one, then moves to the second one.

“Enough.”

Nesta blinks, her attention still pointed downwards to her blouse. A small gasp escapes her as she looks to Lucien in horror, and though his display had been innocuous, the realization that she is not safe prevails. He could hurt her, and she would be willing.

“I won’t harm you, Nesta. I just needed to show you that the things I can do… they are beyond human ability.” He keeps that pleasant smile on his face.

“Why me?”

“Because I want to tell my story. I have lived a long life, and to think that one day, it could fade to nothing,” he turns his head, glancing out the window, thoughtful. “It was not a good life, and I thought to confess to a priest, but I do not care for God’s forgiveness. Perhaps by helping you, I can atone for what I have done.”

Fear simmers beneath her curiosity, but Nesta won’t leave. She wants to know, she needs to know what could haunt someone like him? The terror he brings makes him even more attractive, and Nesta loathes herself for that thought. She nods. “Go on.”

“My name is Lucien Vanserra and I am a vampire, like my brothers and my father before me. I can no longer remember when I was born, or how I became the way I am, but what I remember is the first time I felt alive.” As he speaks, he looks beyond her, to a distant past she will soon be privy to. “And the day I died.”

Vampires don’t die… do they? Nesta isn’t sure what he means, whether he’s hinting at the way he was turned, or something metaphorical. Regardless, she knows exactly what her hook is going to be.

“My early life is nothing more than a haze, walking through this world as something more than human, but less than…” His pink lips purse, looking for the words. “Less than,” he simply decides, and Nesta simply understands. Sometimes, there are no words for that feeling, but only someone who has experienced it will understand. 

“You see, my father is very old and controls most of the world’s… interests. He has worked very hard to build an empire. My six brothers and I were his tools to achieve that.”

Were? These brothers, are they biological?

Nesta knows better than to interrupt a story. She jots her question down, and leaves it for later in case it’s answered later in their evening together. He pauses to give her time to write, and when she lifts her gaze, her breath catches yet again. The weight of his full attention is something. It brings heat to her cheeks, and she glances away, as if to wordlessly ask him to do the same.

Lucien glances away, lightly resting his chin on his knuckles. “His will was all that mattered. He would starve us, make us fight each other for scraps.” He looks back at Nesta before she queues another question. “Of human meat. We’d have to try and draw blood out of it.” Again, he turns his head and finds that distant point to stare at. “It was more of the same. Pain. Hunger. Hate. It all blends together after a couple of centuries. I can’t imagine what it is like for my father. Thousands of years,” he says breathlessly, shaking his head. “And so stagnant.”

“He’s still alive?” The surprise draws the question out of her before she can help it, but Nesta is rarely apologetic, even for the most honest of mishaps.

A purse of the lips is all his father is worth it seems. So little emotions have poured from this man before her; perhaps that’s her responsibility then. Not only to tell his story, but to feel it on his behalf. His life is more than words on a page; she’ll make sure to do it justice, to give it the second chance he so clearly yearns for.

“I would say so. My father has a way of… surviving even the worst odds. Or perhaps my eldest brother has finally dealt with him.” The corner of Lucien’s lips twitch, mild annoyance rearing its head. “I find it strange how humans are the one who show more grace than any of the gods you all worship so.”

“She was my first, a peasant woman in some distant countryside. The details of the place have long faded, but I remember her face, clear as day. The most beautiful human I had ever seen.” Lucien looks at Nesta when he speaks the next words. “At the time.”

“My father had tired of me and my weak heart. You see, out of my six brothers, I fancied his methods the least. Humans are… not cattle to me. They’re small, and weak, yes, but what they excel at is beyond the physical.” He lifts his index finger, tapping over his heart. “It’s here. With every beat. Jesminda embodied that with her every breath. She was better than all of us put together.”

“But that… comes later. I tend to digress when it comes to her.”

The corners of his lips twitch again, and this time, Nesta thinks it's the ghost of a smile come to haunt his melancholy.

“I was starving, and for my kind, hunger is madness. I lunged at her. I was going to drink her dry. I didn’t want to, but there is nothing that can stop us when we are… like that. Or perhaps I am simply a weaker creature. I don’t know how she knew, and she only ever told me that I looked desperate, not evil. She offered me her wrist to drink. I don’t remember letting go, but we both survived the encounter.”

Lucien leans forward, holding his hands out for Nesta’s notebook and pen. She hands them to him without complaint. He begins to draw.

“I loved her, and it was my first time experiencing such a feeling. You cannot truly understand love until you have been truly devoid of it. Anything else is fascination. Affection. Complacency. It was like seeing the sun for the first time and realizing that it does not burn me. It was a drink that could sustain me for the rest of eternity, even in the smallest doses. She was my heart, and every memory of her is a beat in our song.”

He finishes the sketch, handing the notebook back to her. Jesminda is beautiful —a match to his ethereal beauty. Nesta traces her fingers over the lines drawn, etching clearly defining her darker skin tone and long dark hair. Her irises are left clear, likely a pale colour. Are they as sharp as Lucien’s? No, Nesta doubts it. Jesminda has a warmth to her, even in a simple quick portrait drawn by the only soul left to remember her. Was she a vampire, too? Did she choose to stay by his side as long as she could?

“I didn’t have a chance to turn her,” Lucien supplies, and that leaves Nesta even more in awe. 

A human as beautiful as a vampire. A human who’s kindness cleared the haze of Lucien’s meaningless existence. Nesta is careful not to smudge the ink, still tracing her outline as if she could learn more from Jesminda herself. She wants to know what she saw in Lucien, but that is a mystery lost in time, isn’t it?

“I wanted to, believe me, but my father rather enjoys inflicting pain. I do not think he found greater joy than tearing my heart right out of my chest and making me watch.”

Lucien goes quiet for a long, long moment. When he goes still, it’s unsettling. There is nothing natural to it. He might very well be made of marble. 

“I’m so—”

“Save your breath. You’ll see, I’m not worth your pity. Looking back, I think he did us a favour.” He shifts again, peppering in the smallest mannerism tied to humanity. “The story isn’t about her because I don’t think Jesminda would want anything to do with the thing I’ve become. No,” he says to himself. “She’d grieve, I would think. Hm. Yes. She saw something in me that was worth believing in, and my father killed it along with her.”

“I promised a story about a vampire, and you will soon see that the only thing we share in common with you is this mortal plane, and our features. The rest…” Lucien huffs, amused. “Is a fantasy you’ve all made up to cope with the existence of the devils walking among you.”

“I have an amendment to make,” Lucien says, suddenly.

“Oh?” Nesta asks softly, invested in where this is going.

“This more than the story of how I lived, and how I died. This is the story of how I became my father, and it all begins with him. Tamlin. My love, my mate and my greatest sin.”

[aruanimess]

Fine!!! I'll do it 😤

(Nobody moved)

Early high school. In my good girl prep era. The stars are there to symbolise I was a star pupil. Deeply depressed 😔

Late high school. In my goth era which for some reason I decided to go through as a blonde (bc I was god's most special little princess). Also depressed.

Who's this diva??? University era so I tried my hand at dark academia (before that was a thing so really it was a lot of improvising and pretending to be cultured). Thankfully, I was smart enough to start therapy 😌 Also, I got glasses!

SHE'S FINALLY OUT PEOPLE 🥳🥳

Right after uni, I got my blue hair and pronouns. There was a lot of experimenting and trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. Good times for a change 😉

Side to side, bc I miss my green hair and I will get it again the minute I feel secure enough about my employment! New piercings, lots of layers bc I get easily cold now, hearts to show my love for my precious partner 💘

I'm feeling too lazy to tag people, and loads of my moots have already been tagged, so this one is for YOU, person who read this far!

I’ve seen on tiktok that it’s trending again to show yourself through the years with picrews…since I’m back in my picrew obsession i HAD to hop on

Should i make this a thread? Or it’s too time consuming? Anyway

First year of high school, was so lame and forgettable, not a care in the world

Second year of high school, in my ‘I hate my life’ phase. Drastically cut my butt length blonde virgin hair. Still regret it to this day.

Lockdown was over, something happened: existential crisis? Who knows. One day I woke up and I decided that I was over being lame.

Fourth year of high school and moved to the us. I was a senior there tho. Anyway all that edgy look was too much so I decided that I just had to be cool.

Came back from the us, moved to london for the summer and then came back to Italy. Fifth year of highschool and my ed was RAGING. At least looks were fire. At some point I had to drop out cause my body was not able to go anymore. Still an icon.

Going back to school and repeating fifth year. Doing much better physically but not mentally BUT I was in my first serious relationship and I absorbed pretty much his whole style. Ad I looked so legend as a ginger.

Now. Somehow alive. Pretty much living in hell. But we thrive. Found out that tumblr is pretty cool and getting many tattoos. Dare i say that I’m in my coolest era.

OK BYEEEE

If you want to do this here’s the link

Do it reblogging this!

Tagging some people just to see if it’s doable :3 absolutely no pressure

@annawayne @moonspirit @dudewhy3 @aruanimess @darcycrow @skyedahelf @sweetlokum @snksznn @itsnathateasy @lucaaazd and whoever who wants to do it :3

[2d-reality]

Little Things (The Prince of Demons)

characters: Diavolo, GN!MC navigation: Diavolo | Barbatos | Simeon | Solomon | Luke | Thirteen content/warnings: little things you do, out of love. dateables edition! fluff. could be read as platonic but why would u word count: 862 notes: Alas, Dia is the only one I have finished as of now on account of how my work/life balance has been absolutely wacked recently. I'll get around to the rest eventually, I promise! I have bits and pieces here and there but the dateables don't flow as easy as the boys. Mephis will likely not be included bc I'm not even vaguely familiar with his character, and because we are both horse girls and he is my bitter rival on principle. I stared at this piece a lot but did I edit it? no

Diavolo was a lonely man. He knew a lonely childhood, tucked away in the Demon King’s palace with only the grounds staff as company. He attended lessons alone as he grew up learning what it would take to shoulder his father’s throne once he came of age. When the reigning monarch fell into his dreamless slumber, Diavolo had effectively lost yet another lifeline to anything resembling a normal existence-- a parent. As a young man (or, rather, the demon equivalent of a young man), surrounded by nobility of all kinds vying for his attention, he knew they only saw Diavolo, the Crown Prince. Even the brothers, who were the closest to being considered his friends, played along with his antics out of duty. No doubt Lucifer drilled it into them to be accommodating. 

Sometimes he felt as though he was cursed-- paying for his original sin by bearing his existence, at the end of the day, alone. 

That was, at least, until you came along. You, so small and fierce and human. You, who upon meeting him at the beginning of your tenure as an exchange student, held his gaze squarely and didn’t back down, even when he could practically smell your fear.

You, who for whatever reason, be it ignorance or sheer, unmitigated gall or something else entirely, didn’t for a moment treat him any differently than any other demon you met. Once you were comfortable living among magical beings, it was as if the floodgates opened. Despite horrified reactions from Lucifer and gentle chiding from Barbatos, you told him when his jokes were stupid (even if you still laughed), slapped his arm companionably when greeting him, and called him by a myriad of silly nicknames. 

Your friendship is the most precious thing Diavolo has ever received in his long life. You aren’t one of his subjects, born to defer to him whether you wanted to or not. You aren’t an angel, who gave him a cautious respect for the good of your realms’ relations. You didn’t even know he existed before you came to the Devildom. You chose not to see the heir to the throne, and instead saw Diavolo-- a gentle giant with more love in his heart than he was born to carry. Diavolo, who would go to the ends of all three realms for those he cared for. Diavolo, who was loud and boisterous and always wanted to be involved. Diavolo, who liked cigar cookies and video games and could be a bit of a goofball. 

He cherishes every aspect of your relationship. He loves when you send him blurry photos of various pairs of objects or animals you see when out and about, with the caption "us fr <3”. He loves getting links to dumb memes in the middle of the night, followed by laughing emojis or “this u??” You poke fun at him, bite back with quips when he makes jokes at your expense, and play silly little pranks on him. His favorite is when you gesture to something on his coat, only to flick the tip of his nose when he looks down to investigate. He’d long since caught on to that ruse, among others, but your bright smile and chirping laughter when you teased him for falling for it yet again are too precious to him to not play along.

He even appreciates the times that you turn down his invitations to spend the weekend at the palace with him, citing exhaustion from the brothers’ antics or pressing schoolwork from RAD. You’re not automatically agreeing simply because you have no choice-- you spend your limited, precious time on him because you want to. More often than not you made up for declining by showing up entirely unannounced some time later, cloaked beneath a spell to shield you from Barbatos’ sixth sense for his Lord getting up to shenanigans, beckoning him to sneak out with you to suck on thick milkshakes in some cramped corner booth and giggle conspiratorially like a couple of misbehaving teenagers. 

When he’s around you, Diavolo feels like he can breathe. He doesn’t have to worry about keeping up appearances. You aren’t looking for political sway, or funding, or an elevated social status. For the first time in his life, he can set aside his heavy burden and feel... normal. He can ruffle your hair, and only half-heartedly hold you back from practically climbing him to dig your knuckles into his scalp and return the favor. He can laugh when you swat at his hand as he reaches across your plate to steal a few of your fries. He wears the friendship bracelet you braided for him at all times. He considered charming it to never fade or fray, but when it finally falls apart from wear, your mock exasperation when you tell him you’ll make him another makes him feel so real. 

Diavolo was a lonely man. But now, he has a friend. A genuine, honest-to-goodness friend. You have matching contact photos, and inside jokes. You don’t call him my lord when he comes up in conversation; it’s always my friend. Now, thanks to you, he isn’t lonely anymore.

[riiviir]

hey guys so I just started reading Flatland by Edwin A. Abbott and OMG AHSBNSBSBSNSNBSHZHSHDBFHGGHFHGRJ2KSHSBSNSK AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE THINKING ABOUT THE RELATIVITY BETWEEN DIMENSIONS!!!!!!

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i am so lost and insane for an angsty idea of navigating poly!stsg where you join their established rl!!!!! i love your poly fics so much and it's given me these bedtime daydreams!!!

the insecurities and doubt and fear and sadness you might feel from never having a bond strong enough between urself and them and the angst and tension it can create because u feel like ur never enough for satosugu oh gosh and the sadness they might feel if you leave or distance urself from them and idk how to verbalize my thoughts but i hope you feel the energy i am trying to show🥺🥺🥺

ANON!!!! I DO!!!!!!! I DO SEE THE VISION!!!!!!!!

wahhhhh this is a common daydream of mine too…….. stsg have such a unique bond and i don’t think you could really replicate it :((( but at the same time i think that for the relationship to work, they’d have to see you as an equal!!!! this is just a pet peeve of mine but i rlly Cannot Stand poly stsg fics where they see reader as being beneath them… first of all they would Never second of all!!! they should all be in love. and they should all respect each other more than anything. it’s just a matter of realizing that you’re special to them in your own way, and that it’s in no way lesser than what they feel for each other!!!! but obviously the road there might be kind of tough…..

and gosh, they would definitely be heartbroken if you distanced yourself from them!!! :((( they just don’t understand what they did wrong and you don’t know how to open up about it…. i think they’d eventually corner you and kinda force you to do so (cue lots of crying and their desperate attempts at soothing you) and after that it’d feel a lot easier. if you’re precious to them then i don’t think there’s anything they wouldn’t do to understand you properly!!! and love you properly. they’re sweethearts and i love them <3333

[kimtaegis]

not @rjshope and @thv-hyung making me cry in this chilli’s (read: italian restaurant) tonight

[kyouka-supremacy]

DON'T MANIFEST AKUTAGAWA'S FEELINGS BEING UNREQUITED WAGEHGAHTJSHHAJ

But does it count as manifesting if I'm just stating facts 🤔😔😔

[prismatoxic]

loving the timeline i got to witness of:

-yahtzee reviews a game on zero punctuation -in the course of the script he finds a reason to bring up ayn rand/atlus shrugged, mostly as a joke -brings up ayn rand again as the closing punchline -final credits message is "bioshock was a good game wasn't it" -one day later the escapist uploads a new extra punctuation about why bioshock's opening is amazing

did you get bioshock on the brain by any chance, mr. croshaw?

idk what his schedule of making ZP/EP looks like, though i do suspect that EP might possibly be visually edited by someone else? i'm like 99% sure yahtz still does ZP by himself except to pass it by matt the editor for notes on where he should maybe swear less, but EP is kind of visually different (despite using yahtzee's art still) so maybe he just reads his script and lets matt do the visuals? idk. the man's busy he puts out 2 videos like every week, i wouldn't blame him

regardless, my point is that idk where in the process he decided to make an EP on bioshock, but the idea of him writing the sea of stars script, thinking about ayn rand a little too hard, and getting on a bioshock kick because of it is pretty damn funny

if he addresses this in the bioshock video i'm going to feel very silly but i was just taking a food + youtube break so i only watched the sea of stars review for now

[m0e-ru]

annual realization where this gas station’s operations and my life owe it all to visualive i’m serious

[silentstaresfanficandfanart]

guys i freaking did it fraeking did self therapy so i could edit this ritsu into the image, ensemble stars CAN be good for your mental health see! This was just so freaking ritsu-core I had to sit down and hardcore speedrun through trying to process some trauma so id stop getting flashbacks during this, its uh, not 100% BUT my flashbacks decreased in severity and frequency enough i could finish the piece without making myself miserable explanation for what i did below

Id do a below the cut thing but i cant figure out how that works so sorry for the long post but i figured i should share it since it provided me relief so freaking fast-? (again im not cured but ...it helped.)

(I sat down, processed my trauma by going over what i learned from my traumatic experience and not shying away from the things i wanted to avoid because well they were making me have flashbacks, carefully going over what i learned from it in detail that allowed me to regain some control over how the situation affected me and how i handle situations going forward and how it changed my view of the world, and then i went over in detail how i would handle it if a similar situation came up and what little i can actually do to prevent it, while also assuring myself that its okay that theres a certain degree of uncertainty but that its a very rare and unlikely thing for that to ever happen let alone multiple times in my life and ill probably never encounter it again, and since i took my brains concerns seriously, it seemed to be more willing to actually let me believe that this time. I feel ...so much better and like a weights been lifted. I cant believe i just freaking did all this becasue i needed to make a meme so bad but honestly im so proud of myself, worth it. definitely reccomend it, I really wish someone had told me sooner that telling yourself what you learned from a situation and making it part of an uplifting narrative and that kind of thing is in fact, what it means to process trauma and that theres actually a definition for that and its not just wait around and hope your brain unfricks itself. i have a lot of work left to do on myself but i feel so much better... thanks to original poster for making a meme so good i had to make my own ver-)

Saw this post and immediately knew I had to make it Ford

(Og post under cut)

[joelsgoldrush]

“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you. 

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.” 

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend. 

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong 

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair 

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison 

Allison: 

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch 

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss. 

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.” 

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features. 

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules. 

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up. 

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail. 

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment. 

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you. 

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him. 

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. 

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on. 

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?” 

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days. 

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble. 

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)