#it's like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

This piece contains 18+ content

Pairing Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary Eddie’s had a long day, but being with you is enough to turn even the worst days into something sweeter [fluff, artsy reader, mild hurt/comfort, smut, 3.2k]

A/N This is some of my favorite smut I've written. Still very much stuck on him.

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It’s much quieter in your neighborhood than it is in Forest Hills. No muffled music or raised voices carry from the houses around the cul-de-sac. Tired men don’t tinker on rusty cars. Unleashed dogs don’t sniff their way through ailing yards that aren’t their own. The only signs of life are cars in driveways and lamplight through windows. The golden sun hangs low in the darkening sky.

Eddie makes a final attempt to exhale the weight of the day away before he presses your doorbell. Not even a second later, the lock clicks and the door swings open.

The smile you offer has him convinced that every butterfly he’s ever seen now exists within the confines of his stomach. It’s as if familiarity and radiance itself exist in the way your lips lift upwards to reveal the glint of your teeth.

“I heard you pull up,” you say. “In case you were wondering why I opened the door in two seconds…” you trail off when you realize you don’t sound as convincing as you want. 

Eddie smiles with a fond shake of his head. The action causes more of his curls fall onto his shoulders. He’d never make fun of you for being eager to see him. Especially when half the people in Hawkins care more about his skills beneath the hood than him as a person.

“Sorry I’m later than I said I’d be,” he says as you usher him inside. “Wanted to grab a shower before I came over.” 

“Didn’t you hear?” Eddie's brow furrows innocently at your question. “I love the smell of motor oil.” 

He huffs out a chuckle that makes you bite your lower lip to keep from grinning like a fool. Then he laughs again, deeper this time, like a funny thought has struck him. But he takes a step closer, cups your cheek, and kisses you. His lips are slow and easy against your own.

When he pulls away, you catch the weariness in his eyes, softened by gratitude as he takes you in. He could’ve gone home. He could’ve turned in for the night. But he wanted to see you too. He needed to see you. 

“Hey,” you say softly. “Everything okay?” 

You reach out to tuck his hair behind his ears, and he lets you. Any other time, he’d shake it back loose with a playful smirk. Tonight he doesn’t. 

He catches your hand as you pull away, and dots a few kisses over your knuckles. Work and playing guitar have calloused his palms. His steel rings glint in the low light of the foyer. 

“I’m okay,” he says into your skin. You remain quiet in hopes that it’ll coax more out of him. “Long day at the shop.” 

You hum. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. Don’t be. 

“Got you something,” he remembers. "Been holding onto it for a couple days." He realizes he’s empty-handed.

“Shit. I left it in the van.” 

You chuckle as he presses another quick kiss to the back of your hand before he lets go and pulls away. 

When Eddie comes back inside, you’re on the living room couch with one leg tucked beneath you. The TV plays low reruns of I Love Lucy, but you grant him all your attention as he settles beside you. Before you have the chance to ask what’s in the brown paper bag, he pulls out a nice set of drawing pencils and a leather-bound sketchbook. 

Your mouth falls open as he passes them over to you, his expression quietly hopeful. Big brown eyes eager for your reaction. 

“Eddie…” 

“You filled your last sketchbook. And you’ve been needing some new pencils." He rests his forearms on his thighs and licks his lips. "Knew you’d hold off on getting them for yourself so I figured..." 

A smile finally breaks across your face.

“These are the fancy kind too," you note as you look over the pencils. "Thank you so much, baby. Really.” He shrugs like it's no big deal even as he bites back the proud quirk of his lips. It was a privilege to be able to do little things like this when he could.

The leather of the sketchbook is smooth as you flip open the cover to run your fingers over the crisp, fragrant pages. 

When you meet his eyes again, your gaze is soft and observant, like you have an idea. It feels like you're seeing straight into him. He's handsome. Long curls, kind eyes, plush lips. Even then, it's clear he still wears the remnants of the hours prior, though he masks it well.

“Maybe I can draw you," you propose with the quiet hope he’ll oblige. “To break everything in.

"All you've gotta do is sit back and relax. We can talk, watch some TV, eat my snacks." He smiles at that last part. 

After the frustrated customers he had to diffuse today, he can do that. Gladly so. 

•••

The warm lamplight and the glow of the TV cast soft shadows across Eddie's face. His long lashes appear heavy with the relaxed way he blinks at the screen. He’s sunk back into the cushions, legs spread just so, hands interlocked over his stomach, rising and falling with his breaths. An empty bowl of popcorn rests on the coffee table along with a hollow box of Jujyfruits. 

Five separate sketches of him now constitute the beginnings of your new sketchbook. He tilts his head to peer over at you when he no longer hears the familiar brush of graphite against paper.

The cushions shift as he straightens up and rubs his eyes with lazy fists. 

“All finished?” he asks, and you nod. “Can I see?” 

When you pass him the sketchbook, his eyes rove over the drawings with the attentiveness of a critic, but void of any harshness or critique. It’s more of an assessment, an appreciation. He pulls his lower lip between his teeth. Raises the book to get a better look at the hatching technique you used to shade the first sketch you completed. 

It’s a straight-on portrait that he’d faced you for. There’s a sense of ease about his gaze. A warmth paired with an underlying pensiveness. He knows he’s being studied but feels more seen than exposed. 

Except, Eddie's so much more than you’ll ever be able to confine to a couple sheets of paper. Charming in an awkward way, with one of the kindest hearts you’ve ever known. Loving him is as easy as blinking or breathing. So natural it feels innate. He feels your gaze as he studies the sketches.

When he redirects his attention to you, he offers one of his steady, slow-moving smiles that never fails to make your stomach flutter. 

“Always staring at me,” he accuses, too lighthearted to be mistaken for a complaint. 

In truth, you observed everyone and everything. But never with the same admiration allotted to Eddie. There were so many layers that you feared you wouldn’t have the time to unravel them all. You’d never wanted to know the inner workings of another person so intimately. 

After a lifetime of slipping through the cracks, it sure was nice to be seen in an unadulterated way by you. 

“Can’t help it,” you murmur.

Eddie tracks your movements as you grab one of the accent pillows and toss it to the floor at his feet. A second later, you drop down onto it. His breath catches when you place two gentle hands on his knees and spread his legs so you can better settle between them. 

"Hope your day's gotten a little better since you’ve been here," you murmur.

Eddie swallows. Sets your sketchbook aside with a jittery hand. 

“It has." His voice is thick as anticipation stirs within him. "As soon as I walked through the door.”

You hum as he squirms, hyperaware of your touch as your hands drift along his thighs. His head tips back when you palm him through the fabric of his jeans. Warmth ignites in his cheeks and melts to his torso as his pants tighten in the wake of his arousal. Along the thick column of his throat, his Adam’s apple bobs with another swallow.

It hadn’t even taken much. 

His legs fall open wider, like a gate, when you begin to unbuckle his belt. The metal hardware clinks with your movements, breaking the hush between you. You pop the button, drag the zipper down. 

“Wanna help me get these off?” A sweet smile plays on your lips as you blink up at him. 

Eager, Eddie lifts his hips, and you help him shuck down his pants and underwear. There's a tent in the front of his boxers when you get to them, and he shifts with the new exposure by the time everything pools at his socked feet. 

Featherlight, your fingertips ghost toward the apex of his thighs, his milky skin dusted with sparse hair. His muscles twitch at the ticklish sensation, and he braces for the inevitable.

Except your touch flutters past where he aches. Bypasses where he strains toward his stomach. Instead, your hands sweep over his hips. Slip beneath the hem of his shirt to scratch along the low part of his stomach where a thin, dark trail of hair leads down to his need. 

His chest deflates on a slow, bated breath. You hide your coy smile in the inside of his thigh in the form of a kiss. Right over the small smiley face inked into his skin. Eddie huffs in flustered amusement. 

“This is—” 

“One of your favorite tattoos of mine,” he finishes with flushed cheeks. 

You grin in feigned surprise. “How’d you know?” You trace your nails back down to his quivering thighs. 

His arousal kicks up when you grant him the gentle brush of your fingertips over the rounded fullness that rests heavily between his legs.

“Sweetheart,” he finally sighs, dark eyes molten when they find yours. 

“Teddy,” you coo back. 

He doesn’t have time to brace when you begin to pepper an alternating line of kisses up his thighs until your lips find the part of him that needs you the most. 

His breath hitches. “Baby—“

A pleasured shudder rolls through him as you kiss up the elegant curve of the thick vein along his underside. You follow the path of his need all the way to the rosy tip, where a wet, gleaming pearl beads in a testament to his want. You suckle it away. Savor it.

Eddie's eyes flutter shut, body taut as you spit over him and wrap a secure hand around his base. The slick heat of your palm makes his hips stutter as you begin to pull upward in a steady tug. At the top, you circle your thumb around the mushroom tip. You dedicate another swipe of your thumb to a slow trace along his slit. 

Eddie is warm and rigid in your hold, beautifully at your mercy, and he knows it. Doesn't mind it. The full hum in his throat unravels into a low, shameless moan when his lips part. 

“Yeah, baby?” you meet his gaze and hold it. Heat pools between your legs. “You feelin’ good?” 

Eddie reaches out to stroke his thumb across your cheek. “Yeah,” he rasps. “Please don’t stop.” 

You wouldn’t dream of it.

As you continue your languid strokes, you mouth at his inner thighs. Kisses, nibbles, licks. He’s so wound up that all of it gets to him. Pleasure tugs low in his gut with a radiance he can feel in his fingertips, his toes. 

With a practiced gentleness, your free hand lowers to massage the velvet weight of him that you’ve neglected. A rugged sound escapes him as he writhes. Even more so when you move to lap him again, this time taking him halfway and working what's left over with your hand. 

You pull away to trace your lips along his shaft, mindful of every inch and the tell-tale shudder that startles through him. You peer up through your lashes to find desperation etched across his features. 

He cups your cheek to get you to pause. “C’mere, sweetheart,” he insists. "Wanna feel you—lemme feel you.” 

You clench around nothing as he encourages you upwards. 

After you shuffle to your feet, you push your lounge shorts down, followed by your panties. Eddie strokes himself, gaze heavy-lidded as he watches. 

No sooner do you move forward to straddle his waist, on your knees with your hands braced on his shoulders. His hands find your hips, but one drifts lower in a curious glide between your parted legs. He graces through your slick folds, then brushes his thumb over your swollen bundle of nerves. He’s gauging if you’re ready for him, but you nearly crumble forward at his thoughtful touch. 

“So sensitive,” he notes lightly. A flicker of amusement dances in his eyes as they find yours. 

“Because of you.” You pout as you reach down and align him at your entrance. 

He catches at your slick warmth and whispers a string of curses. It shouldn’t already be this good. You shouldn’t already be this ready. But both things are true because the two of you have somehow stumbled into your own little perfect world. Both his hands find your hips again as you ease yourself down to welcome him in. Inch by slow inch, every vein and ridge. 

You don’t realize you’re whining until you’ve sunken to accommodate all of him. Eddie runs a soothing hand up your back as you lean forward into his chest in an encompassing haze of fullness. Already, he’s touching that devastating part of you that’s so thoughtfully tucked away. He’s the only one who’s been able to reach it. To find it as if the path had been carved for him alone. It’s a homecoming in its own right. 

“You feel so good,” he sighs the news like it's hot off the press. Like the words can't make it out of his mouth any sooner.

For a brief moment, stillness prevails as you adjust around him. You tuck your nose into his hair, where the subtle scent of his sweet, herbal shampoo lingers. Instead of canting his hips upwards like he so desperately wants to, he lets you have the moment. Presses a kiss to the bulb of your exposed shoulder, then allows his hands to find the hem of your tank top. You move to pull it over your head. He does the same with his own shirt, biting back a groan as you shift over top of him. 

Your nipples pebble in the cool air, even more so when he cups your chest and circles them with his thumbs. The sensation throws you into a shiver that jumpstarts a roll of your hips. Eddie’s fingers return to your waist, a silent encouragement. 

Before long, you leverage the bend at your knees to lift off him, then lower yourself back down. A rhythm soon forms, Eddie’s hips rise to meet yours. His thighs quake as a strangled sound of relief spills past his lips. 

A whimper escapes you as an invisible string pulls you forward to dot a few languid kisses across the apple of his cheek as you continue to ride him. 

“Oh—shit,”  he exhales shakily. “You’re perfect, sweetheart.” He sounds panicked and awed all the same. 

All you can do is hum at his words. Every time you lower onto him, it feels like he manages to reach a new depth that makes you want to crawl away. Yet your hands find his tattooed chest for the sole purpose of feeling more of him, his warm, dewed skin. A shiver shakes him when the tip of your nail grazes over one of his nipples. Spurred on, you pinch the peaked flesh next, which earns you a particularly hard thrust as he groans. A jolt of electricity rushes straight between his legs with the threat of being his undoing. 

“You’re gonna make me come, angel.” The shameless, exasperated way he says it makes you clench around him. 

You lower a hand to rub tight, purposeful circles over the tender bud between your legs, the pleasure sharper in the wake of his words. 

“I want you to come,” you attempt to keep your voice steady as you lilt. “Want you to fill me up. Want all of you.” 

Eddie groans and sags back into the cushions in an air of disbelief. Somehow you’re real. Somehow you chose him. And you’d never led him to believe that things should be any other way.

You lean forward in pursuit of him to kiss his throat, then up along his jaw until you’ve arrived at his bitten lips. The kiss carries the neediness of being on the edge. 

“Always gonna want you,” you whisper heavily against his mouth.  

Eddie whimpers. “You have me.” His thighs tense beneath you as he teeters on the brink. This time, when his hand finds your waist, it’s to ground himself in the intoxicating rock of your hips. 

You kiss him one last time, saliva slinking between you, before you touch your dewy forehead to his. 

“Come with me,” you frantically encourage. “Eddie, please—” 

The broken sound that punches out of him sends you into the thralls of a reckless release. It’s swift and forceful like a lightning bolt zipping from the sky. Your walls flutter around him as pleasure courses in every direction. Eddie has no choice but to let go. He jolts beneath you like stricken earth. His stomach clenches in time with each pulsing wave of release. 

Eddie’s neck becomes your hiding place as aftershocks ripple through you both. Your lips begin to press more deliberate kisses to the space where his neck and shoulder join. Beneath you, he sits like putty and softens within the warmth of you. He’s attuned to every small shift you make. You’re not quite ready to relinquish the fullness. 

A steady, clammy hand glides up your back and settles at the nape of your neck. When you sit up to meet his tired, satisfied gaze, you're struck by a surge of fondness. Of love. If you could erase his bad days, keep them from ever touching him, you would. But you can’t. They’ll come, for both of you, whether you like it or not. 

Still, you had this. Each other. That’s enough to make life a little sweeter, a little kinder. Even on the days that are anything but. 

Eddie’s lashes flutter when you run a gentle finger down his nose. “You okay?” you ask. 

He shifts beneath you, wincing at his forgotten sensitivity. A small smile pulls at his lips as he finally nods at your question, contentment clear in his eyes. 

“Promise?” you ask. 

“I promise, sweetheart.” 

He offers his pinkie as a seal of truth. 

- 

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. I promise I see them all!

MORE EDDIE

ALL MASTERLISTS

[megapteraurelia]

bokuto koutarou’s hands were an angry red.

so were the tip of his nose and his ears, but at the very least, his jacket was pulled up high, hiding his mouth and chin. a couple of white crystals were sprinkled on his clothing, hanging from the tips of his lashes and hair, slowly melting at the warmth of his body. though there was no mistaking the wide smile on his face despite the cover, his eyes crinkling up, eyebrows pulled up high in excitement. 

“hey,” he grinned at you, “your most-favourite bestest boyfriend has come to bless your day.”

“kou, oh my god, it’s freezing outside!” you ushered him inside, and he kicked his shoes off, heavy body already draping over you, his familiar weight threatening to drag you down. he loved letting gravity take a hold of him, loved having you take the brunt of his compliableness, become putty in your hands. you were used to his antics, but that didn’t mean his engulfing you and dead weighing himself magically became any less heavy. 

(secretly, you loved it, too. couldn’t get enough of him trying to melt into you, athletic muscles turning mellow, broad shoulders towering over you, stuffing your face in his neck. god, you wouldn’t exchange this for anything in this world.)

“kou—” your muffled voice with a mouthful of his scarf turned from a soft inquiry to a screech when his icy hands sneaked underneath your sweater to touch your warm skin; a violent shudder befalling you at the contact, “wa-haaa-aait, you are so doing it on purpose! get your hands off!”

“but this is my body,” he mumbled next to your ear and his hands squeezed your flesh. his voice sounded light and self-assured but you knew if you denied him again, you would be able to feel his cheeks moving as his mouth would just his lip forward into an exaggerated pout and he’d cling onto you even more, “so i’m gonna warm my hands where they belong!”

for a second you contemplated pushing against him, because — “fine, fine, but let’s get under some blankets first. this is way too cold for me.”

his cheer was too cute, too loud, too strong of a squeeze around your heart. his eagerness manifested in him suddenly relieving you off his weight, his cold fingers gripping tighter to lift you up, legs shuffling across the floor to find their way to your bed.

“i’ve been thinking—”

“uh oh.”

“—hey, wait, baaaaaaby, you know i’m trying hard here to make use of my brain.”

you snickered in response to his little sulking, yet your hands scratched his hair gently, affectionate. his nose was pressed against your throat in a sensual way that only bokuto koutarou in his innocent desire to practically blend his existence together with yours could manage, legs tangled together though he had shrieked even louder than you when your cold toes managed to find their way between his calves.

“i’ve been thinking that i have a lot of thoughts about thinking. especially about you. you’re always on my mind, even when i try thinking about the match, or how to hit the ball to get past the blocks. then i think about how awesome you’d think i look, and then i can’t stop thinking about your face and how you smell,” he complained, cheeks puffed up in indignance, voice taking a notch of childlike annoyance and a little whine entered his deep baritone, “you have to fix it. omi already looked at me like i was a bug on the wall when i got distracted. but i wasn’t distracted! i was just thinking about you, so that’s not really a distraction. but i’m also not a bug either. so! make it go away!”

you hid your smile against his hair, and despite his words of making it go away, his hands had only pulled you closer against him, chest flushed against his, breathing in tandem. his grumbling and grouching continued, intent on keeping himself blame-free and using you as the scapegoat, yet his body kept pressing against you, his mouth stealing sly kisses that he gleefully thought you didn’t notice. 

though, naturally, he wasn’t as slick as he thought he was.

[messenger-of-babel]

Jason Todd Who...

Summary: Thoughts about your relationship with Jason Todd.

Word Count: 1.6K

Notes: So this was supposed to come out a few days ago to maintain a 'one post a week' baseline, but my hometown kinda flooded, everyone got evacuated, I came back to work and my office building managed to flood and catch fire in the span of 24 hours. I'm still fine though! Currently splitting time with writing, work, and drying things out. Stay safe out there!

Love RiRi <3

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Thinking about a Jason Todd Who…

Has no idea how exactly he got into a relationship with you. Well, technically he’d like to call it a situationship, since neither of you have decided to put a label on it yet. He’d helped you out post patrol one evening, Bruce doing his head in as usual. He didn’t plan on drinking that night, but he still pushed open the door to the bar, hoping he could at least chat to James, the bartender, if he was on that night. It turns out that James was, in fact, on shift and currently occupied in the back corner near the pool table. His ears switched into overdrive hearing the ruckus, the years of vigilante training making his senses kick in keenly to try and respond. That’s when he saw you, being restrained by James and pool cue in hand.

Thinking about a Jason Todd who…

Laughs to himself as his first response to seeing a bar fight, your opponent curled on the ground from where you had jabbed him with the cue. When his eyes met yours, your form wriggling in James grip, he was oddly delighted to see the challenging glare you sent to him. After about twenty minutes of exchanged words and threats of security, James lets you go and you sit at the bar, fingers tapping the wood in irritation.

“You shouldn’t drink if you get angry, you know.” He grins, following your shadow to the bar and leaning on the nearby stool.

“I’m not drunk.” You defend, eyeing him up and down. “I made that decision completely sober.”

Jason’s eyebrows raise. “Oh, really? Do tell me what he did to deserve being attacked then.”

“He was being an asshole.”

Yeah, Jason was going to like you.

Thinking about a Jason Todd who…

Calls it a relationship to himself silently after a while but is still too nervous to say it in front of you. What if you didn’t think about it the same way? What if you were platonically getting coffee together every Thursday? That you only held onto him that tight when you rode with him because you were worried about falling off? That you were just friends that crashed in the same bed after a night out? He couldn’t help the flutter in his chest and the grin he wore so easily when you were around. He didn’t realise how much baggage he wore on his shoulders until you showed up and he felt like he could lift his neck for once. He knew he was fucked up, dying and coming back would do that to you. Yet he didn’t notice how the heaviness of it kept his eyes trained on the pavement, neck craning under the weight.

Yeah, Jason really liked you.

Thinking about a Jason Todd who…

Dreads you coming over to meet the family, protesting the entire time. Not only because it was pouring outside meaning he had to take the car (meaning he couldn’t feel your arms around him), but because he still doesn’t know what you are. He’s been meaning to clear it up with you, wanting to ask so desperately, but every time that he’s tried the words catch in his throat. Like he’s back to being Robin, the young boy now trapped in a body way too big for him. So instead he just tightens his hands on the steering wheel, lost so deep in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice the lovestruck glances you steal from the corner of your eye, or the nervous playing of your hands in your lap.

Thinking about a Jason Todd who…

Is completely taken aback when you announce yourself as his partner at the door when Alfred asks who you are. His brain blanks out, just staring down at you with a wider than usual glance. His hands are frozen to his side, unsure of what he could do. What to even say. The old man just smiles when Jason flicks his gaze to meet his grandfather figure, the old man’s eyes crinkling in mirth.

“Then welcome in. Master Dick and Tim will be delighted to hear it.”

You smile so easily, so effortlessly as you take his hand and lead him into his own home (or ex-home as he liked to call it).

God, he liked you.

Thinking about a Jason Todd who…

Scowls when he sees Tim pay Dick a $20 under the table as you introduce yourself again, his older sibling figure sending him a shit eating grin as he pockets the cash in his front jacket pocket. He doesn’t miss the way that Bruce’s eyebrow twitches up curiously as you say you’re his partner, before that critical gaze flicks to Jason, silently asking if the information is true. He gives a short tense nod, and the billionaire grips his chin in thought before running a hand over his face.

That makes a flare of anger peak in Jason, but he squashes it down for the sake of Alfred and the dinner he worked so hard to wrangle everyone in for. You’re too distracted introducing yourself to Steph and Duke to see the critical glances Bruce sends you, the duo more than eager to engage you in conversation. He hates the way that Jason can feel the gaze of Bruce bore into his cheek, like he was trying to carve a his own bat-shaped scar next to the white ‘J’. He hated that gaze. The gaze that he could feel before he was told to ‘take it from the top’ or to ‘do another set’. The gaze he used to try and thrive under when he was younger, pushing himself to the limits in the hope that it would soften up if he excelled. The gaze that felt like it was doing nothing but waiting for him to mess up, so it could devour him with sharp teeth and harsher words. He knew Bruce didn’t approve. Jason knew he didn’t care.

Jason liked you too much to let Bruce scare away his chance of happiness.

Thinking about a Jason Todd who…

Has his breath stolen the moment you kiss him in the car. He feels like he’s drowning, but it’s the most blissful torture he’s ever experienced as you lean across the car console to cover his lips with yours.

“You were distracted at dinner.” You murmur softly when you pull away. Jason has to blink the stars from his eyes, his scarred hands twitching to rest at the back of your neck and pull you to him again.

“I was just lost in thought, that’s all.” He says back, fighting the tremor in his voice. Once again he feels like a young boy piloting a hulking, clumsy body, his mind and muscle out of sync. You hum in response, not fully taking his answer.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, calling myself your partner.” Your murmur after a slight tense silence. “I should have asked first.”

Jason swallows thickly. “I don’t mind.” He says quickly, a little too quickly if he was honest with himself. “I’m happy to try, I mean, if you want that.”

You smile, the sight that makes his chest flap. Like he had said the funniest thing imaginable, your sparkling gaze focused all on him.

You liked him.

Thinking about a Jason Todd who…

Holds nothing back as soon as you two become an actual couple. He’s doing what he can (albeit it clumsily) to keep you around. He’s mostly mimicking other relationships he’s seen, readings articles on how to be a good partner late at night. He knows to be himself, he’s not an idiot. He knows that you would scold him if you saw the things that he was doing, but he couldn’t stop. He had had relationships before you, of course. Yet the difference this time was that this was you, and he wasn’t going to risk it going sideways the same way the others had.

The biggest thing he had found was trying to keep you away from the other side of him. The side that donned a mask when the sun went down and staked out rooftops with a blue and black spandex clad chatterbox, and a caped brat. It had been easily enough when you were apart, but now that you were living together in his little apartment, it was getting harder and harder to sneak out of your arms at night and crawl back into them in the morning. He cursed the fact that you were a light sleeper, leading him to nearly being caught one too many times. He knew that you were getting suspicious, but keeping your reservations to yourself in the morning.

Bruce still didn’t like you, even more so now that you were closer to Jason’s true side than ever. But maybe Bruce did like you. That was a thought that plagued him, preventing him from falling into the sleep he so desperately needed after a long patrol. You were curled into his side, chest rising and falling softly.

Maybe Bruce did like you, and he was trying to protect you. Trying to keep you away from the potential heartbreak of losing him, which was a constant threat in this line of work. Maybe he was trying to keep you from being harmed, something that Jason feared constantly about having you close. Maybe Bruce was trying to save you because he did like you, and Jason was condemning you by being with you.

You move slightly when he shifts, eyes flicking opening groggily. Your normally bright eyes are cloudy with sleep, and you meet his gaze.

“Jay?” you mumble.

He grins softly, calloused fingers brushing a piece of hair from your forehead.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Maybe Bruce did like you.

But Jason loved you.

[promptedwordsmith]

Might I HUMBLY request Xavier x reader where he’s all pouty because you’ve been busy with work and ignoring him and you accidentally raise your voice at him because he keeps trying to speak to you but ur busy and he starts crying. Yup. I’d like to order that meal please I live for crybaby Xavier 🏃🏽‍♀️💨

Hi! I love this I put my spin on crying Xavier because he is my no.1 pookie and he seems to me like the type that cries whe he annoyed or feels wronged (because I do)

Xavier sat on the couch, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the back of your head as if he could will you to turn around and finally look at him. He had been patient—remarkably patient, in his opinion—but after hours of watching you hunched over your computer, completely ignoring his presence, his patience was wearing dangerously thin.

He had tried everything to get your attention. At first, he’d settled for subtle tactics: stretching exaggeratedly, sighing loudly, shifting on the couch in a way that made the leather creak just enough to be noticeable. When that failed, he moved on to more obvious methods, like standing behind you, resting his chin on your head, and wrapping his arms around your shoulders in what should have been a distraction too sweet to ignore.

But you hadn’t even flinched.

So now, he was pouting.

Xavier would never admit to pouting, of course, but that was exactly what he was doing. His lower lip was slightly pushed out, his silver brows were drawn together in a frown, and he was sinking lower and lower into the couch, his entire body exuding sulky displeasure.

How long had it been now? Two hours? Three? He was certain it had been at least half the day.

His fingers drummed against his knee. Maybe he should just grab your laptop and toss it across the room. That would get your attention. Or maybe he should act like he was in grave distress—clutch his chest, groan dramatically, collapse onto the floor. Surely that would get you to look at him.

Instead, he settled for the next best thing.

With all the grace and stealth he possessed, Xavier slid off the couch, crawling onto the floor until he was sitting directly beside your chair. His head tilted up as he stared at you, waiting for even the smallest reaction.

Nothing.

He scowled. "Are you planning to stare at that screen all night?"

"Mmhm," you hummed, not even sparing him a glance.

His frown deepened. "You do realize I’m here, right?"

Another vague noise of acknowledgment.

Xavier narrowed his eyes. He had been ignored before, sure, but this was just unfair.

And now, he had made it his mission to break your focus.

Xavier, determined as ever, let out a small sigh before lifting his hand. His Evol hummed to life, and the glow of your laptop screen flickered, dimming until it was barely visible. Then, with a subtle flick of his fingers, the display distorted, the text shifting and swirling like ink in water.

You let out a frustrated groan. "Xavier!"

He blinked up at you innocently. "Yes?"

"Please! I need to get this report done. I'm not getting behind on work because you want attention!"

In your frustration, you snapped the laptop shut with more force than intended before throwing it open again, fingers immediately resuming their frantic typing. Your words were sharp, harsher than you meant, but at that moment, all you could focus on was meeting your deadline.

You didn’t notice the way Xavier's eyes widened slightly, the way his usual playful demeanor stiffened ever so slightly. You didn’t notice how he stared at you, as if seeing something he hadn’t expected.

What you did notice was the quiet click of the door.

Not a slam, not an angry exit—just a calm, deliberate departure. The sound, barely loud enough to be distracting under normal circumstances, echoed in your mind like a deafening crack.

Your fingers froze on the keyboard.

Oh.

You exhaled, a sharp pang of guilt settling in your chest as the weight of your own words replayed in your mind. You hadn’t meant to snap. You hadn’t meant to push him away.

But you had.

Xavier was never demanding. He was persistent, sure, but never unreasonable. And now, instead of arguing or pouting, he had simply… left.

You swallowed, glancing toward the door.

Would he come back if you waited? Maybe he just needed air. Maybe you were overreacting.

But then you thought of his expression before he left—the quiet hurt hidden beneath the usual calm.

With a sigh, you pushed your chair back, standing up. Work could wait. Xavier, however, shouldn’t have to.

You hesitated outside Xavier’s apartment, the weight of the cookie container in your hands suddenly feeling heavier than it should. The trip up here had felt longer than usual, your own guilt dragging your steps.

You took a breath. Just apologise.

Slipping inside, you expected to see him sprawled out dramatically on the couch, maybe with a pillow over his face, sulking like a cat deprived of attention. Instead, what you found made your stomach twist.

Xavier was sitting on the couch, his body angled toward the window, bathed in the cold glow of the city lights. The usual warmth he carried was nowhere to be found. He was still, too still.

You stepped closer, keeping your voice light despite the nervous flutter in your chest. "Okay, okay, I get it. I was a little harsh, but you were being insufferable—"

You stopped.

Even in the dim lighting, you could see the quiet tears slipping down his cheeks. He wasn’t sobbing, wasn’t making a sound, but the sight was somehow worse. He looked like he wasn’t even aware he was crying, like his emotions had bled through before he could stop them.

Your breath caught in your throat. "Xavier…"

You surged forward instinctively, placing the cookies on the table with a soft clatter before cupping his cheeks in your hands. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, but he didn’t lean into the touch like he usually would.

Instead, he turned his face slightly, firmly ignoring you.

The rejection, soft as it was, stung.

"Xavier," you tried again, thumbs brushing over the damp trails left by his tears. "Talk to me."

Nothing.

His jaw tensed under your touch, and his hands, usually so quick to grab onto you, remained clenched in his lap. The Xavier you knew, the one who teased and pouted and wormed his way into every aspect of your life, felt so distant now.

You swallowed. "I didn’t mean to snap at you," you whispered, your voice softer now, less desperate, more honest. "I was frustrated, not with you—well, okay, maybe a little with you—but mostly with myself."

His shoulders twitched, barely a reaction, but enough for you to see you were getting through.

You took a breath, shifting so you were kneeling between his legs, forcing him to either look at you or go on stubbornly ignoring your presence.

"You can be a pain, you know?" You smiled a little, trying to coax something, anything, out of him. "But you’re my pain, and I was an idiot for pushing you away like that."

Still, silence.

Then, finally, a breath.

"You always do that." His voice was quiet, rough in a way you weren’t used to. "Always throw yourself into things and forget that someone’s waiting for you to look up."

You blinked.

Xavier exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if he was annoyed with himself. "I don’t even know why I…" He trailed off, hands finally moving—but not to hold you. Instead, he wiped at his own face as if frustrated that he had let himself cry in front of you at all.

You felt your chest ache.

There was something heavier in his words, something unspoken. A kind of familiar grief that didn’t make sense in the context of one small fight.

But that was a question for another time.

Right now, you just wanted him to know he mattered.

So you leaned in, pressing your forehead gently against his. "I’ll look up more," you promised, closing your eyes. "I’ll pay attention. I swear, Xavier."

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, his hands finally reached for you.

Not playful, not teasing—just holding on.

Like he was afraid of something.

Like he was afraid of losing you.

Xavier didn’t speak right away. He just held onto you, his hands gripping your arms, thumbs brushing over your skin as if reassuring himself that you were really there. His forehead was still pressed against yours, warm and steady, but there was a hesitance in the way he held you—like he wasn’t sure if you’d pull away again.

You weren’t going to.

Slowly, he exhaled, finally shifting back just enough to look at you properly. His blue eyes were still damp, still heavy with something unsaid, but there was a quiet resolution there now. He lifted your hands from where they rested against his chest, cradling them carefully between his own.

Then, with a gentleness that made your breath catch, he brought them to his lips.

His lips brushed over your knuckles, lingering in a way that made your heart ache. "I need you to be serious about this," he murmured, voice low, but firm. "Not just saying it to make me feel better."

You swallowed, guilt tightening in your throat.

"I mean it," he continued, pressing another soft kiss to your fingers. "I want to spend time with you, and if you’re too busy, then fine—just let me help. If it’s your report, I’ll help you with it. If you’re stuck, I’ll be there." He squeezed your hands gently, his expression open, unguarded in a way you weren’t used to. "I just want to be with you. However I can."

Your heart clenched.

You’d been so focused on your work, so lost in the constant cycle of getting things done, that you hadn’t even considered how Xavier might feel about it. He didn’t just want attention—he wanted to be with you. He wanted to be a part of your world, not just something on the outside waiting for a moment of your time.

You lifted your hands, cupping his face once more, smoothing your thumbs over his cheekbones. This time, when he leaned into your touch, there was no resistance.

"I promise," you whispered.

Then, before he could say anything else, you leaned in and kissed him.

It was sweet, slow—not rushed or desperate, but full of warmth. A promise sealed with something softer than words. Xavier made a quiet sound against your lips, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you closer.

When you finally pulled back, he exhaled, his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You sure you won’t need me to break your screen again?"

You laughed, pressing your forehead to his. "No breaking my laptop. But…" You smiled. "I wouldn’t mind your help next time."

His smirk softened into something fonder, something real.

"Good," he murmured, pulling you in again. "Because I’m not going anywhere."

And this time, you believed him.

[harpsinfinity]

Can you write a Chris Redfield x femalenurse reader? It can be like Chris is coming back from a mission and has to be taken care of.. Smut or not! ;)

(probably a basic idea lolz sorry!

I don't get many asks..so..I LOVE YOU MWAH MWAH MWAH

part 2 anyone?

Fluff !!

Another grueling mission, another goreish, disgusting monster dead from the world. The innocent people of the world were safe. Safe from whatever sick plans someone was producing and putting out. As draining as it was, it was a relief. A relief to make the world that little bit less dangerous

Even now, as Chris makes his way to his personal barracks, covered in guts, sweat and grime. He felt a small weight off his shoulders having completed his mission.

A hot shower was what he craved right now. And to see his favourite nurse, you. Sweet, lovely, caring you. He was the only nurse he knew that tried to connect and get to know her patients, even if you didn't cross paths with them often.

Plus he really needed you to tend to the wounds he'd recived. Although they'd started healing, it was better to be safe than sorry and avoid a possible infection. Or even worse, a virus.

When he finally had the pleasure of being freshly showered, in fresh clothes. He then decided to see you. He couldn't deny the giddy feeling he had in his stomach.

It'd been forever since he layed eyes on you, you're beautiful face, the stunning colour of your eyes. Oh hell, he really was head over heels for you. His favourite nurse.

He waltz his way down the dull hallways until he met the familiar door of your office, name in metal on the front. He had to calm the pounding of his heart before softly knocking until he heard a soft

"come in"

Upon entering, it took everything in him not to collapse at your feet. You were even more beautiful than the last time he saw you. The neat ponytail your hair was in, the curve of your cheeks. Those pink, kissable lips he loved so much.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when your voice called out to him

"oh, Chris !"

You smile warmly at him

"how nice to see you, it's been so long"

He catches himself grinning back at you, close to getting lost in your eyes. Windows to the soul, they said.

"couldn't stay away from my favourite nurse for too long"

Chris teases, though he swears he sees a faint blush on your cheeks as you snort in amusement

"so, what are we in for today? My favourite soldier"

Chris sits down on the little medical bed.

You tease right back at him, you knew you were hopelessly inlove with him. He was perfect, though he was your superior. There was no way a relationship between the two of you could work, though you still held out a small amount of hope for him. You wondered if he felt the same

"just a few cuts and scrapes. Not riskin' an infection"

He replys, lifting up his shirt to reveal the long, jagged cut he'd suffered. Probably from the claws of a wretched creatures he'd faced.

It was safe to say he was in excellent shape, it was difficult to concentrate on the wound with how close you were to his muscled torso. You caught a glimpse of a pec that was peeking from under where he lifted up his shirt.

No. Not now, you need to focus.

You cleared your throat before speaking

"alright, doesn't look bad."

You step back to gather the equipment you needed to disinfect the wound

After getting what you needed, you got to work:

Grabbing a pair of tweezers and plucking a cotton ball with them, dipping them in the disinfectant liquid.

"this might sting a little.."

You speak, before starting to clean the cut. You felt the tense of his muscles as you wiped along the scar

"s'alright, I've had worse"

He chuckles through written teeth.

you finish patching him up and clean up, when Chris stands up, towering over you and gently grabbingyour wrist. Catching your attention

"you're really pretty"

That made an instant blush dust your cheeks, not something you were expecting. Even from the man you were head over heels for.

"chris-"

He silences you with his lips on yours, gentle and soft. His hands met your waist as yours met his shoulders. It made your heart burst and stomach flutter with butterflies.

Chris guided you backwards till you hit the wall, his body pressing against yours as he locked his lips deeper with yours. He was such a good kisser, in the back of your mind you were conscious if he thought you were a good kisser too.

It's when he pulls back for air you see the most beautiful expression on his face, pupils wide, lips slightly swollen and parted as he panted softly

His hand cupped your cheek as his deep, warm voice called out to you

"you're so beautiful, and I'm so inlove with you. Rules be damned, I need you"

You swore your heart skipped a beat, were you dreaming? Where are the cameras?

"Chris, I..I love you too..I'm head over heels for you, more than that"

You gain a small amount of confidence as you pull him in for another breathtaking kiss

"so, does that made us official?"

"it does"

[joanna-lannister]

they renewed my allowance for disabled people for 3 years 😭😭

[bibimbinge]

tired of being called inconsiderate and rude the second I say something thats not exactly in a nice tone when my brain is working 3× more to be considerate of everyone and everything else 99% of the time.

[flamboyant-king]

5 years later and almost 2 years of trying, The OC height chart is reborn!

(--and as difficult to measure than ever before.)

I woulda drawn my other OCs altogether, but dude, 2 years just for the OG gang? I’ll see y’all next decade when the ArtPG, Meanie Greenies, and Grow as We Go folks get measured.

[ratxiety]

Huh. My dad is turnign 50. What am I supposed to do? A rich relative had a huge party few years ago when he turned 50, but I don't have the money to throw a big party. Is going out to eat enough? Dad said he doesn't want to really celebrate and he already went to a trip abroad with my sister. What if I kinda don't like my dad? Really hard to even bake or cook something for him since our preferences are so different.

[hanasnx]

“ SHE JUST WENT TO HEAVEN AND BACK ” — clark kent.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ sexual content: riding dick ノ playing dumb for a boy ノ some light humping ノ reader has kinda long hair ノ size difference.

you’re so desperate for clueless CLARK KENT’s attention that you play dumb and get him to mansplain his video game to you while you sit in his lap. he’s been busy lately and to get him to take the hint you wear one of your shortest skirts, invite yourself into the best seat in the house, and ask, “what’s this?” gesturing to his lit tv screen.

he explains it all, some boring lore he’s really into and the controls and the tricky part he’s stuck on right now.. and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at him. his pretty girl is sitting in his lap and he’s not even paying it any mind. but clark is paying it mind. he’s rambling bcos he’s nervous, and if you’d turn your head you’d see the pink dusting his cheeks. he can feel your bare thighs through his denim, and your floral shampoo fills his nose… he trails off mid sentence when he focuses too hard on the growing interest in his pants.

“i wanna play.” you say when you’ve had enough of his aimless babble, and without thinking it through, clark places the controller snugly in your palms, while his larger hands overlay yours.

“alright, so this button…” his thumb atop yours presses down in a click, and you see the avatar swipe air with his sword because of it. “is your attack move… and this—“ you’re not paying any attention to what he’s teaching you. instead, your brain conjures up evil memories of everything you’ve been missing. your eyes wander to the corner of his bed he’s sitting on, and you wish he’d fold you over on it like before. wrestle you down and pin you so he could flip your little skirt up and get to work. you’re tuning out his words while he’s playing the game over your hands which dampen with sweat, suddenly hot and bothered at the thought of him fucking you in this position… if only he were brave enough to unbuckle his pants.

your lips press together, your heart rate quickens, and clark’s ears perk up. thump thump… thump thump… thump thump…

he inhales sharply, right as the sting of what it feels like to be filled by him shoots up your core like lightning. you jump in place a little at the cruel trick your mind is playing on you, and the friction of your ass bumping against his halfie makes it twitch as it chubs up. the avatar’s HP lowers little by little as its enemies overwhelm it, but neither of you move.

“why didn’t you say anything?” clark’s breathless words come out husky and sultry as he chuffs them out of his teeth, lifting you up and down by your hips like you’re nothing more than a weight at the gym. your hands lay atop his, twisting your face as that cock buries itself right where you needed it, bullying that spongy spot in you sore from neglect. “i’ve been thinking about you, too…” he fills the silence, paired with the wet sounds of an eager pussy swallowing him up. he yanks you back, and you land on his chest still clothed, your hair bunches up on his shoulder while his lips find your ear. your hips now married with his, he rolls yours, screwing his dick into you like he’s rediscovering all your nooks n crannies.

one arm rounds you to secure you against him in a warm embrace, seeking out your clit between your spread legs, toying with it like taffy and it makes you whine.

“you didn’t have to act like you cared about my game,” he’s taunting you, right in your ear, ending it with a gentle nip of his teeth to your shell. the point of his canine sends a shock through you, and your legs straighten involuntarily. he keeps you where he wants you with overpowering strength, you can’t raise yourself when he’s got you in a vice. his thumb and index feel cruel against your bud, as if chastising you for trying to trick him.

“well, it worked, didn’t it?” you exhale, leisurely squirming against him desperate for some movement. there’s pride in your voice.

“this skirt worked.” he corrects. the skirt now bunched up around your waist about the same time he’d pushed his denim out of the way so he could free his cock and give you a new seat. “could hear your heartbeat, you were so obvious… c’mere.” he grants your wish for more, pushing you forward so he could gather your arms behind you. bent, your feet barely toe the ground while he uses your wrists to leverage you, tugging you back while he bounces you up with the force of his hips.

[ohnoidontexist]

[solxamber]

You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: Vice-Housewardens + Ruggie

Part 1 with Housewardens

Part 3 with First Years (-Ortho)

Trey Clover

The argument wasn’t a loud one—no shouting, no slamming doors—just tense words exchanged with too much weight behind them. Trey’s voice had been steady, but his usual patience was stretched thin.

You, equally frustrated, had decided that the best course of action was to remove yourself before either of you said something you’d regret.

So, with a sigh, you grabbed a blanket and made your way to the couch, settling in with your back turned toward the bedroom.

Trey let out a heavy exhale behind you, but he didn’t stop you.

You shifted, adjusting the blanket, willing yourself to fall asleep. It didn’t work. The room was too quiet, too heavy with the remnants of unspoken words. You half-expected Trey to leave you there and go to bed, but then—soft footsteps. A rustle of fabric.

Kneeling beside the couch, Trey placed a hand on the cushion near your arm. His voice was quiet, steady in a way that made something in your chest ache.

“Come back to bed.”

You closed your eyes. “Not yet.”

A pause. Then, a soft sigh. Trey stood. For a moment, you thought he was giving up, finally going to bed without you. The thought left an unexpected hollowness in your chest.

But then, after a few minutes, he returned. You smelled the milk before you saw it—the faint scent of vanilla and honey curling through the air. When you cracked an eye open, there he was, sitting on the floor near the couch, a mug in his hands. He held it out to you.

“Here,” he said. “I know you have trouble sleeping when you’re upset.”

You blinked at him, heart squeezing against your ribs. “Trey…”

He didn’t push, didn’t insist. He just waited, his eyes gentle, patient in the way only he could be.

And just like that, your frustration melted. You took the mug, letting the warmth seep into your fingers. Trey didn’t move, just watched you with that quiet steadiness. Then, softly, he asked again,

“Come back to bed?”

This time, you didn’t hesitate.

You set the mug aside and sat up, only for Trey to immediately wrap his arms around you. His hold was firm, grounding. He buried his face in your shoulder and murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding him just as tightly. “I’m sorry too.”

Neither of you moved for a long moment, staying there in the quiet. Eventually, Trey pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead.

“C’mon,” he said, voice low, warm. “Let’s go to sleep.”

And this time, when he led you back to bed, you followed without hesitation.

Ruggie Bucchi

The couch wasn’t comfortable. You knew it, and Ruggie knew it. But right now, your stubbornness outweighed your need for a good night’s sleep. You yanked the blanket over yourself, muttering under your breath as you tried to arrange the cushions into something remotely acceptable.

Across the room, Ruggie watched you with wide, calculating eyes. He hadn’t said anything since you stormed off, but you could feel him thinking. And then—

“You remember when you ate my last donut?” he started, voice small.

You froze, narrowing your eyes. “…What?”

“My last donut. You ate it, and you said—” He changed his voice in a mocking impression of you. “‘I owe you one, Ruggie, I swear. Anything you want.’”

You groaned, burying your face in the pillow. “Oh my —”

“But it’s fine,” he continued, so dramatically forlorn you almost threw the pillow at him. “I guess I’ll just be all alone in that big, cold bed. No warmth. No love. Just me. Shivering.”

You lifted your head, ready to tell him off, but then—oh, no.

He hit you with the look.

Ears drooping. Tail flicking. Wide, guilt-inducing eyes that shimmered just enough to make your resolve crack.

You exhaled sharply, dropping your head back down. “You’re the worst.”

He didn’t respond. Just fidgeted. Shuffled his feet like he was actually nervous you’d say no.

And that? That got you.

With a groan of defeat, you sighed and opened your arms. That was all he needed. Ruggie practically launched himself onto the couch, slotting himself beside you in a space absolutely not designed for two people. His weight pressed against you, his tail flicking lazily as he tucked his head under your chin.

“…Knew you couldn’t resist me,” he mumbled, voice muffled by your shirt.

“Shut up.”

His arms tightened around you. A quiet beat passed, then—

“Sorry.”

Your hand found its way into his hair, carding through the strands. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Me too.”

Ruggie hummed, content. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, and despite the ridiculousness of it all, sleep found you too.

Jade Leech

The couch was lumpy. Or maybe you were just too angry to get comfortable. Either way, you buried your face into the pillow, inhaling deeply through your nose to keep yourself from snapping again. You just needed some space. Needed to not be in the same room as Jade and his infuriating, calmly amused expression.

“I can’t be around you right now,” you had told him before marching off, voice tight with frustration. And for once, he didn’t push. Didn’t smirk or throw another veiled comment your way. He simply inclined his head, watching as you all but collapsed onto the couch.

Now, wrapped in a too-thin blanket, you willed yourself to sleep. You were almost there—drifting, fading—when fingers ghosted over your hair.

Your breath caught, but you kept still.

Soft strokes. Careful, reverent, as if he thought you might break. It was so unlike him, so gentle, that you almost cracked your eyes open to confirm it was really happening. Then—

“…I’m so sorry.”

The whisper was barely there. But it wasn’t the words that made your heart lurch—it was the way his voice shook.

Jade Leech, ever unflappable, sounded unsteady.

He pulled back, and you knew he was about to leave. That should have been fine. You should have let him go.

But your bleeding heart had other plans.

Your hand shot out, grabbing his wrist before he could slip away.

He barely had time to react before you yanked him back—maybe a little too hard, because the next thing you knew, he was crashing onto the couch with you. A rare, wide-eyed look of surprise flashed across his face, so fleeting you almost thought you imagined it.

And then you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Jade froze.

“I’m sorry too,” you murmured. “We can talk in the morning.”

For a long moment, he just looked at you, something unreadable in his expression. Then, slow and deliberate, he dipped down and pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek.

“…Very well,” he whispered.

His weight settled beside you, and this time, when you drifted off, it was to the sound of his steady breathing, warm and close beside you.

The couch standoff had been going on for way too long.

“I’m sleeping here,” you declared, arms crossed as you planted yourself firmly onto the cushions.

“No, you’re not,” Jamil shot back, equally stubborn. “I am.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m not taking the bed while you sleep out here.”

“And I’m not letting you sleep out here while I take the bed.” His arms were crossed now too, mirroring your posture, his sharp gaze unwavering.

For a moment, the tension held. Then, something about the sheer ridiculousness of it all hit you—both of you too annoyed to back down but too caring to let the other suffer the discomfort of the couch.

A laugh bubbled up in your chest before you could stop it. You covered your mouth, but the moment you let out even the smallest chuckle, Jamil’s eyes flickered with reluctant amusement. He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head.

“This is stupid,” you admitted between giggles.

He sighed, running a hand down his face. “Yeah. It is.”

You grinned. “Bed?”

Jamil didn’t hesitate. “Bed.”

The moment you both settled under the blankets, the last traces of tension melted away. His arms instinctively curled around you, pulling you close, and you let yourself relax into his warmth.

“Sorry,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his shoulder.

His grip tightened, lips brushing against your hair. “Me too.”

Neither of you said anything else. You didn’t need to. The steady rhythm of his breathing and the way he held you just a little closer said enough.

Rook arguing with you was already unexpected. That he let you march off to the couch without a poetic declaration or dramatic plea? Unheard of.

You cocooned yourself in the blanket, stubbornly facing the back of the couch. The silence felt unnatural—too quiet for someone like Rook. A part of you expected him to suddenly recite a Shakespearean sonnet about lovers quarreling.

Instead, something even more ridiculous happened.

You shifted slightly, just enough to glance toward the floor—and there he was.

Laying down right beside the couch on a thin blanket, arms crossed behind his head as though he had chosen the most luxurious sleeping arrangement in the world. His golden hair fanned out on the hardwood floor, and despite the clear insanity of the situation, he looked perfectly content.

You stared. Blinked. “Rook.”

“Oui, mon amour?”

“You’re on the floor.”

“Indeed.”

“You’re going to get sick.”

“Then I shall suffer beautifully, just as you do now, exiled from the comfort of our bed.” His eyes twinkled, completely unrepentant. “If my beloved must endure the cruel fate of sleeping alone, then I shall share in their hardship.”

You pressed your fingers to your temples. “Rook, go to bed.”

“I am in bed.”

“No, you’re on the floor, being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? Ah, ma chérie, I am simply a devoted man.”

You groaned, throwing your arm over your face, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you. It was impossible to stay mad when he was like this. Ridiculous. Completely, helplessly devoted.

Sighing, you reached out and flicked his forehead. He gasped theatrically, touching the spot as though you had struck him with Cupid’s arrow. Before he could say something absurd, you leaned down and kissed the spot gently.

“Come to bed, you idiot.”

His eyes widened slightly before his lips stretched into a dazzling smile. Without hesitation, he stood—and then immediately scooped you into his arms.

“Rook—?!?”

“Ah, mon amour, such sweet mercy! Allow me to carry you away from this exile!” He spun dramatically, pressing an exaggerated kiss to your forehead before striding toward the bedroom.

You should have expected nothing less.

You sighed against his shoulder, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you adore me.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

Lilia Vanrouge

You had firmly decided that you weren’t going to sleep in the same bed as Lilia tonight.

You needed space. You needed time to cool off. You needed—

Blink.

One second, you were wrapped in your blanket on the couch. The next? You were in bed.

You shot up, heart pounding. Lilia stood at the bedside, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Lilia.” Your voice was dangerously even.

“Yes, my dear?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you teleport me?”

A smug smile. “Would you rather I carried you?”

Oh, you were about to start another argument—

But then you noticed something. In his hands: a pillow and his own blanket.

You frowned. “What are you doing?”

Lilia hummed, casual as anything. “If my beloved insists on sleeping elsewhere, then I shall take the couch in their place. I have endured far worse in my lifetime—” his eyes twinkled mischievously “—but I’d hate for you to wake up with an aching back.”

You groaned, flopping back onto the mattress. “That’s so unfair.”

“To be this thoughtful and charming? I know.”

You shot him a look, but he simply smiled. You hated how sweet he could be even when you were still irritated.

With an exasperated sigh, you sat up and grabbed his wrist, tugging him toward you. He followed easily, his blanket forgotten as he slipped into bed. Without hesitation, he wrapped himself around you, chin resting atop your head.

His voice softened. “I’m sorry, dear.”

You exhaled, tension leaving your body as you relaxed into his hold. “…I’m sorry too.”

His lips brushed against your temple, and with that, the night’s quarrel was put to rest.

Masterlist

[hoshigray]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐲 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫! | fushiguro tōji

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Not only are you drunk on a Friday night, but you’re a drunk, closeted succubus who is, unfortunately, under the care of the hot neighbor under your roof! Would you ruin the mood if he found out about your little secret? You don’t even wanna know!

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x afab/fem! succubus reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! reader + Toji are neighbors - age difference; reader is in late-20s + Toji is mid/late 40s - crushing/mutual pining - drug/alcohol usage - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! + m! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping) - Daddy kink - sqǔitïng - anal play (m! receiving) - 69 + backshots + spooning + cowgirl positions - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - creampies - praise kink - pet names (baby, doll, dollface, good girl, mama, princess, sweetie) - implied marathon sex - mention of drool/spit, tears, and cum - not proofread; will do l8r.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.8k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: pulled this story out of my ass; I literally spent a whole single DAY dedicating to writing it. please enjoy, and tysm for 11.9k loveliesss ☆ love and appreciate u all !!

“…shit.”

There’s no way.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit—”

Of all days for this to happen.

“Oh, my fucking God, not tonight!!”

Tonight was already an eventful night, with the full moon shining brighter than the stars. Life has put you so fast in a whirlwind that you can’t recall the last time you permitted your body to unwind. Can you blame yourself, though? From moving to a new neighborhood and scoring a new job, things have kept you undeniably busy for the past few months. And not too mention,  it’s your fault for being a bit of a hermit and lacking a drive for social interaction. 

That’s precisely why your old college besties – Shoko, Utahime, and Yuki – pulled you out of your hideyhole and encouraged you to join them this Friday night to have some fun! “C’mo~n, lighten up! No more thinking about work or whatever; have some fun!” “Yeah, y’know you’re my biggest drinking buddy. Now, hurry up and share this cocktail with me!” The ladies pressure you to relax and enjoy the start of the weekend with some good drinks and delicious food. And, you hate to admit, it worked like a charm – the longer the hours went, the more you felt free as if all the weight holding you down had been lifted.

The only problem is, like all good things, that it had to end and that you had to go home. Now check this out: 1) you left your car at home because, again, you were rigorously dragged out of your abode by your college companions. 2) You were all pretty much drunk, enough for neither one of you to drive on the road. And 3) you guys are in the city, and catching a lift is not only a gamble but SUPER expensive! Guess that’s what you get for choosing a Friday night to free-ball.

However, when hope was lost, and you wouldn’t be in the comfort of your bed tonight, you received a text on your phone, and you could practically hear the angels sing in the heavens above!

Recent Message from: Neighbor Fushiguro

Yo. You home? I’m out in the city picking up stuff for the house. Need anything?

Thank God for neighbors, am I right? The chances of someone you know being within the same vicinity of you may be low, but never zero! Did you feel bad that you texted back saying you needed a ride back to your house? Sure. Did you feel extra bad when you asked a huge favor for him to drop your friends off at the nearest hotel? …Yeah. 

But luckily, he didn’t seem to mind. The only thing you had to endure was him teasing you about your little outing (with the help of your friends in the back of his truck) and your tipsy persona. “Never took you fr’ one who drinks.” He scoffs while putting you down on your couch after slinging you over his shoulder because you complained about your feet hurting. Damn heels! “Neither one who gets drunk.”

“It wasn’t my fauuu~lt,” you whine with a significant stretch while your neighbor roams around. “My fwiends, they forced me to–hic–to do it…”

“Mm, do your ‘fwiends’ always push you over to do things?” He shouts from the kitchen; you can hear cabinets opening and closing. 

“When you’re the youngest of the group, they do.”

“Well, maybe I gotta get to know ‘em so they can push you into goin’ out more. And maybe you can quit avoidin’ me when I invite you over.”

“I don’t try to avoid you!” You sprout defensively. “And quit teasing me, Toji! You’re supposed’ta be on my side; I’m the victim here.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever ya say.” Heavy footsteps draw nearer to where you are, and your heavy eyelids open to see a hand stretching towards you with a glass of water. “I’m here takin’ care of ya now, aren’t I, lil’ victim?”

A smile pulls your lips as you take the glass. “Thank you,” you express before a sip, and your neighbor lifts your feet to sit on the cushion beside you. 

“Y’re welcome,” he places your legs on his lap, grabbing the remote to turn on the television. 

You haven’t been in this neighborhood long enough to say you have friends. Don’t get it wrong; everyone you contacted has been lovely and friendly, and some have opted to help with your move! But aside from the casual greetings in the morning or the nods of acknowledgment, you barely know people who scratch the surface of acquaintanceship. Not to mention, it’s your fault for being a bit of a hermit. 

…But, there is one neighbor you could say you’re pretty close with. Someone nice. Someone dependable…Someone attractive that you’re on a mission not to stare too much.

Toji Fushiguro lives two houses down from you across the street. Remember I mentioned you had people assist with your move? This widowed, middle-aged man was one of the nice handymen who aided you and your friends with your boxes and heavy furniture. You remember it like yesterday, seeing this brawny man stroll up your driveway on the sunniest day of June. You nearly mistook him for an Olympic athlete. 

“So, y’re the one movin’ ‘round here?” The calm baritone of his voice was unforced. “Nice to know there’s a cute face on the newbie. Need any help?” It’s how he asked – so sultry and alluring you almost spaced out before nodding absentmindedly to his request for aid, hoping he didn’t notice you watch how the scar of his lip moved as he spoke. “Welcome to the neighb’rhood, kid.” Rarely do you have butterflies running amok in the pits of your guts, but they were challenging to deal with that day. 

And it doesn’t get any better from that day forward. No matter how hard you wished not to run into this immediate crush of yours, he would somehow wheedle his way into your path. It started slow, exchanging hellos or good mornings whenever he left for work or you took the garbage out. Then came the “Want me to do y’r lawn fr’ ya?” or the “House down the street’s havin’ a little barbecue, wanna get to know people?” You thought moving away from the busy city life would die things down. However, Toji making your head race every chance he gets wasn’t a move you could envisage. Think about how you felt the day he asked for your number to keep in contact “fr’ emergencies…or if ya need anythin’, shoot me a call,” how your heart jumped to your throat! Oh, the girls never stopped teasing you when you told…

Nonetheless, you can’t deny how much help he’s been. Well, outside of that, just being a great neighbor all around. Besides being an absolute succor, he’s an outlet you can come to for anything. Whether for the house, the community, or just personal conversations, Toji’s someone you can admitlingly say you’d depend on. With trust built from day one, sharing pieces of yourselves to break down barriers, it’s safe to say that he is undoubtedly a friend who made your decision to move a worthy risk.

…Yet, what’s even more risky is being alone with him, something you do everything you can to avoid. Why? Look at him! Would you trust yourself to be anywhere with this man alone? Of course not! This is why tonight is the riskiest night you’ve ever bestowed upon your drunk self.

“You got somthin’ to say?”

“Huh?” You perk to reality, anxiousness filling you once you realize you had been staring at the man. “N-No, I’m sorry.”

He stifles a snort, grabbing your feet to massage them from the pain. “Oh, wanna act quiet. You were all bubbly in the passenger seat with y’re friends. Now y’re all shy because y’re stuck with me, huh?”

“T-That’s not true!” A lie; he was right on the mark. Your heart has been beating nonstop once he sat next to you. “It’s just that…I’m sorry for making you drive and pick me and the girls up.”

“Nah, don��t apologize,” his focus is on your feet as he kneads and rubs the sole of your foot. “Told ya I was around the area doing some shoppin’, so pickin’ ya up on my way back was easy.”

You take another sip of your water. “Shopping?” 

“Mm, my kids are down here for the weekend, so I had to go out fr’ a bit and grab shit fr’ my daughter.” Ah, yes, Toji is a father; you remember him telling you about his two children in college, a junior and a sophomore. “They’re at the house right now; saw ‘em after I dropped stuff at the house before bringin’ ya home.” 

You hum. “Sorry for stealin’ you from them for a bit.”

He shakes his head with a humorless laugh. “Please, they probably don’t even know I’m gone. They’re big kids. Plus,” your breath hitches when emerald eyes trail to you. “Now I get to finally have you all to myself, no curvin’ me and whatever this time.” 

“I’m not tryin’ to curve…”

“Yeah, yeah.” He goes back to massaging your feet.

“…Thanks again, Toji. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, sweetheart.” Your abdomen flexes at the use of the nickname. “You know I always got you…Say, did you hit y’r head somewhere?”

You blink, eyebrows furrow. “No? Why?”

He points to his temple. “Because I see like a lump right here.”

You mirror his movements, your hand touching the spot he’s pointing. And your fingertips meet with a lump on a location that sparks too much familiarity. You gasp aloud and cover the lump with your hand, the other covering your other temple. 

Oh, no.

Black eyebrows knit together. “You okay?”

Play it cool! “Y-Yeah, yeah, I’m fine! You’re right; I probably hit my head somewhere while out.” You take this time to remove your legs off the comfort of Toji’s lap and stand up from the couch. “I’ll put something on it to stop the swelling.” You can also sense something aching down your lower back at that moment. Oh, hell no!!

“Ya sure? Need me fr’ any—“ 

BZZZZ!! BZZZZ!!

Toji’s cut off from the vibration of his phone in his jeans, pulling the device out to see that someone called “Megumi” was calling. Good, a distraction!

“N–No, no, I’m good from here.” You say through gritted teeth, the alcohol taking effect and making your stance a little buzzy to uphold. “J-Just stay here, I’ll be back!” You don’t even wait for his approval, turning on your heel and heading out of the living room to the stairs. Your body feels wobbly with every step you take, but you don’t pay it any mind because you can feel the lumps beneath your palms increasing. “God, please, not now, not today…!”

You march as fast as you can to your bedroom, nearly stumbling on the floor as you haul ass to your bathroom door. You do a terrible job watching your footing fall after rushing to turn the lights on, and stuff from the counter falls because of the impact. But you didn’t care, shuffling up so you could look at the mirror. And the sight you see fills you with immediate dread.

Horns are the first thing you see from either side of your head; the tips curl as if to form a crown but point to the ceiling. Your eyes are no longer human-like, pupils shaped like slits as if morphing into a reptile. And your ears get horizontally pointier.  “…shit.”

You then lift your skirt and tear a hole in your pantyhose above the hem of your panties, and your fear quadruples at the sight of something long and slithery protruding out of the hole. A long tail with a pointy end; you lose your mind. “Shit, shit, shit, shit—”

It’s then you realize why this is happening: you had forgotten to take your daily supplements that are meant to subjugate these features of yourself. You’ve been taking them for the longest time before you moved into this neighborhood, so you’re used to your typical human facade. Now, seeing these parts of yourselves is the very LAST thing you need right now! 

And then something hits you, an unsettling feeling that you’re too scared to confirm. Your eyes travel down to your shirt, your hands hesitantly pulling the bottom tucked into your skirt and lifting to reveal your navel. You then tug the top of your skirt to expose a spot you’re honed in on the mirror. And the urge to scream grows tenfold once you see a black marking on the lower part of your belly. 

A womb tattoo!?!? 

“Oh, my fucking God, not tonight!!”

“YO, HEY!” And just when it couldn’t get worse, you hear Toji coming up the stairs and beelining for your open bedroom door. Wait, no— “I heard screamin’ and a big ‘boom,’ you alright? Where are y—“

Your neighbor stops dead in his tracks once he appears in front of the bathroom opening; his concerned expression shifts to an immediate neutral deadpan. He stares at you, and you stare back at him, the silence so thick you could cut it with a knife. A ring fills your eardrums, dissociating from this entire scene and all its complications.

You want to cry. Maybe scream, throw up, or just straight up die on the spot. 

Because this wasn’t the night for someone to find out you’re a succubus.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…”

“…”

“…So, what are you?” 

Not even concealing your face in your pillow can hide you from the eventual questions of Toji, who sits idly on the corner of your bed. You cringe internally, never thinking this dilemma would befall you. The point of moving was to turn a new page in your life and leave the past behind with the city. Now, you are shriveling on top of your bed like a moody teenager, and your neighborhood crush is here to witness your depression.

“…What happened to your phone call?”

“It was my kid. I told him to lock the door since I’ll be out a little longer. Don’t try and deflect,” his blunt answer has you descend further to your inner turmoil. “How come I never seen these horns before?”

You sigh heavily; there’s no point in trying to divert now. “…I take supplements that hinder any features of my succubus appearance so I can look like an average human for the rest of the day.”

“Daily?” He sees you nod through his peripheral. “Succubus…the hell’s that?”

“Basically, I’m a demon that…that…” Yeah, no, let’s not finish that. “Never mind.”

“Bullshit. Tell me.” 

“D-Don’t worry about it, it’s not—“

“Look here,” he speaks to you with a stern tone, a hand coming to your waist to shove you a bit. “I went ahead and picked y’re drunk butt up, made sure ya don’t puke up a storm, and now y’re here looking way different from before. The least you could do is explain.”

God, to be lectured by a human – totally humiliating…! “…I’m a demon that gets energy from…se–….sexu, uhh………..sexualactivitywithhumanbeings.”

The silence that trails after your ramble is beyond awkward. 

“Oh.”

…

“Oh.”

God, just kill me right now!

The older man forces a cough. “So, you…have sex every day?” You can practically sense the tiny hint of discomfort from prompting that question.

“W-Well, I used to when I was younger. But I haven’t really…done it in a couple of years.” Jesus Christ, why is it so embarrassing to admit to someone other than yourself? This is the literal worst! 

“Is that bad?”

“It’s, uhh…It can be?” 

“So, why haven’t you done it?”

“Because…!” You snap your face out of your pillow and finally allow yourself to breathe correctly. “I just…I don’t have time like I used to anymore, and using my powers to make people forget afterward can get tiring. Also, the more times I do it, the more my drive gets intense from the last. The desire of a succubus can be dangerous, you know? And since it’s been a while since I’ve let my powers out, I’m sure it’s nastier than ever…”

“…Well,” Toji turns to face you. “Have you ever had the urge recently?”

“I-” Woah. That question came out of nowhere, almost answering it without proper consideration. “Wh–What do you mean by that…”

He shrugs. “Like—you know what I mean—like, even though you try to suppress it, do you still have those urges to do…ya know, it?”

Things get a little uncomfortable here; now you wish you kept your face in that pillow. Tojo’s gaze on you is distinguished — gentle yet stern, matching his demeanor. He's calm and calculating and is waiting for your response to his strangely personal question. 

“I…I, I don’t know.” It was another lie.

“Why’re you lyin’?”

“I’m not…!” Toji clicked his teeth with a face.

“Fine, answer me this then. Have ya ever thought of doin’ it since ya moved here?” 

Yup, this question was far worse than the other. His words echo inside your noggin, bewildered with every syllable relaying. And the widowed man lifts his brow from the lack of an instantaneous answer. You open your mouth, but words fail to aid you, your tail shying away behind your shadow. “I-I…I don’t—“

“Ever thought of me?”

“Toji!” You shout defensively. Sure, it might’ve been out of line to ask. However, it’s the fact that he’s breaking your exterior with every question — because of how on-the-mark he is. You could never prepare yourself for that inquiry, the heat on your face growing more unbearable. How could he know of the frenzy he puts you through just for existing? 

“I’m not dumb.” You peep Toji, turning his torso and facing his entire front in your direction. “You think I don’t notice how often you try to push me off when I invite ya over or know when y’re lookin’ at me when you think I’m not aware’?” He dents the bed with his added weight, and you forget to breathe, watching him inch closer. “Or act all shy and cute when I got you to myself?” 

You gulp, your brain short-circuiting at the feeling of Toji’s palm on your thigh. There have been countless nights where you’ve thought of your neighbor more than once, indulging in fantasies you could never speak of to a soul, especially Toji himself. To let the man know of the dirty things you’d want him to say to you, the names you wish him to call you, the erotic things you’d like him to do to you — death is the only option necessary not to let that happen. Unfortunately, he seems to have a good idea now that he’s cornered you like this, and you’re too stunned to utter a word.

“It’s okay, though,” he whispers low now that he’s close to your face, and you have to hold back on letting out a yelp when his hand comes to hold your face, his index finger toying with your sensitive earlobe. “‘Cuz I love it when y’re all timid, can’t even look me in the face…Like now.”

You try to avert away from him, but his thumb brings your chin back to him. “Toji, please,” his name feels forbidden to say all of a sudden. 

“Tell me ‘no’.” His nose brushes the tip of yours, and you chew your lip. “I’ll stop right now and leave, let you deal with this y’reself…Or,” he ghosts to your ear, and you quiver. “I’ll stay with you and treat you to what y’ve been scared to ask fr’.”

“Toji, wait,” Fuck, you can’t remember the last time you had your ears so keen, his breath brushing it enough to compel you to meltdown.

“Say ‘no,’ princess.” You’re locked under his forest-green orbs, and you swear you could hear your heart hammering your chest. “Or I’ll treat you right tonight.”

Perplexed eyes can’t move anywhere else, and your lips are wet from licking them without knowing. Is this really happening…? An inquisition you had no time to answer for yourself once Toji closes the gap, centimeters nearer with every millisecond.

I…can’t…

His face draws near, and your eyes reflex to close. 

I don’t…want to…

Toji pulls you in for a gentle kiss; your thoughts radio silent after the contact of his scarred lips on yours. No shot. Your neighbor was kissing you right now — there’s no way!? This had to be a dream…! This is truly a wild night: not only are you tipsy to the noggin, but your neighborhood crush has found out your secret, and now you’re kissing that exact crush in your room?? Your muscles go tense at what is occurring. 

He peppers your lips with kisses, forced to catch up with him as he claims your lips, a palm snaking to the back of your head to keep you steady. He licks your bottom lip, chewing gently to prompt the softest gasps out of your mouth. “C’mon, baby,” he coos to your sensitive ears. “Relax wit’ me.” You nearly melt at the lick of your helix as his free hand courses from your chest to your waist. The brush of his fingers onto your tail makes you jolt. 

“Toji, wait,” you mutter under your breath as he nibbles on your pointy ear, your hands gripping the back of his black wife beater. “D-Don’t; I’m so sensi—Nmmm…!” Jesus, the moan you held back! Toji trails his mouth to your chin down to your neck to suck on your skin. And your lower half throbs harder. “Ahhh…hahhh…”

He returns his lips to yours; this time, his tongue runs on your teeth vigorously to seek entry. You submit after a chew to your bottom lip, whimpering as the older man inserts his wet muscle to greet yours. Surreal, isn’t it, to be tongued down by your neighbor? You don’t know whether it’s the alcohol, the twitches between your inner thighs, or the flick of his tongue and the sound of his purrs that have your face getting hotter. 

And fuuuuuuck, he’s such a good kisser — scratch that, he’s an AMAZING kisser! You’re practically turning into putty in the palm of his hands as he lips you, tilting his head to a proper position with a soft push to your face as he deepens the kiss. He sucks on your tongue, and you mewl, helplessly quivering when he teases the muscle with nibbles. Your waist has a mind of its own while it sways involuntarily, rocking as you sink into the zealous kiss. He’s not overpowering you in any way; if anything, he’s so overwhelmingly comforting, his hand caressing your cheek tenderly, and soft noises of lips smacking and breaking apart bounce one after the other.

Then, you shrill unexpectedly. “…!! Mmahhh! T-Tojiii, d-don’t—don’t touch…Haahhh…”

“Oh? Well, lookie here.” Your ears perk at Toji’s chuckle. Unbeknownst to you, distracted by the intense kiss, your neighbor sneaks his hand under your skirt and touches your private zone shielded by your pantyhose, fingers pressing up on your vulva area. “All we did is kiss, and ya already got your panties wet?”

Embarrassed? Of course, it’s been so long since you were touched like this and out of practice. Now, your repressed emotions start to crumble out of their straightened form the more Toji’s middle finger rubs on your panties. And let’s not even mention your thighs motioning to ride on the digit, your dignity starting to disintegrate. “Ohhh, Toji…”

“Mmm? What is it, sweetie?” He nuzzles to your neck after licking and sucking on your chin. “Feelin’ good down there?” He curls his middle and forefinger to push. “Got ya all excited?” He receives a confirmed hum. “Tell me how y’re feelin’.”

You gulped thickly, your breathing shaking. “I-I’m feeling—shit…” he laughs lowly at your swearing. “Nnnm! You’re making me feel…so hot.”

“I can tell, you’re twitchin’ like crazy right on my fingertips.” His fingers move into a circular motion, and your mouth goes agape. “Fuck, man…Hey, hold on, I wanna do somethin’.”

Toji removes his fingers from under your skirt before you can tell, the heat between your legs going tepid as he withdraws from your figure to lay his back on the bed. But before that, he unzips and loosens his jeans to his butt. A noticeable tent of his boxer briefs has your lips locked to each other, and your eyes widen when he subtracts the material. Just when you thought this night couldn’t get any more crazier, you are awake to witness the display of Toji’s erection in real-time. 

How long has it been since you’ve seen a real-life, living, and breathing dick before your eyes? You honestly can’t recall that; the responsibilities of human life have made you grow numb to your demon necessities that it no longer feels innate. However, the sight of your crush’s solid, girthy, excited cock is marveling. How your mouth waters as you ogle at it is borderline humiliating, eyes glued to the uncut tip.

“Like what ya see?” He asks smugly, kicking his jeans and briefs off and slapping his thigh. “C’mere, mama.” Oh, fuck, the quirk of your insides was unavoidable at his comment, primarily as he guides you closer to him. “Let’s warm up.” You yelp as he effortlessly moves your legs to where you straddle him. He pushes your skirt up to your waist, and you can hear the tear from your pantyhose. His thumb comes to slide your panties to the side, and he whistles. “Damn, lookin’ all pretty and wet fr’ me.” 

It’s either the fact that Toj’s dick is inches in front of your face or your bare pussy out in the air in front of him; either one of the two has your mind going in a whirlwind. And it all comes to a standstill the moment you sense something wet and firm glide across your labia, and it takes everything in you not to tremble. “Mmm, oh, fuck,” he groans after licking your cunt, throwing in another lazy one to have you holler. “It’s been so long…Shit.”Toji’s hands curl from your legs to cup your asscheeks, keeping your butt near him to lap his tongue around your chasm. You whine as he licks you down, your teeth clattering at the sensation. 

Oh, my God, your head begins to ache. It feels so good, your body finally coming back to the groove of things as you move your butt around. The man under you quickly latches his mouth onto you, a firm grip on your ass to keep you in place for him to service you. Speaking of service, your eyes flick to the erect limb before you, your mouth salivating with the run of your tongue across your teeth. Fuck, it looks so good; you admire internally before inching your face close to the length, your head getting dizzier from the sheer size and musk. Damnit…I wanna taste him so bad…!!

“Go on, dollface,” Toji gives your butt a playful smack. “I know ya need this bad.” 

God, he’s so right — you need this; there’s no point in denying anymore. You blow on it before placing a tender kiss, noticing how it pulsates as your hand wrings around the shaft. You lick your lips before pecking at the uncircumcised tip, and Toji’s hold on you goes tighter. He’s sensitive, you note. Adorable. You stick your tongue out to swirl around the cockhead, bathing it with your saliva before you inhale it with a delighted hum, gradually warming up your loosened jaw.

Fuck, the taste of a cock — something that felt nostalgic the moment he graced your tastebuds. Your eyes water a bit, trembles rocking your figure as Toji sucks on your wetness, and every inch you intake fuels the haze that fogs your brain. You stroke and suck him simultaneously, a forgotten method that rekindles now in this moment. You coat him with your spit the more you relax your jaw, slurping him unapologetically as if a different part of yourself takes over. 

On the other hand, Toji feels the same way. It’s been way too long for the widowed man since the last time he has been intimate with someone, let alone have a bare ass right in front of him. It’s no secret that he’s had the hots for you once you moved here, but having you on top of him like this is like something out of his wet dreams. The way you murmur cutely as you suck his dick turns him on so bad, a guilty pleasure come true as he drinks your nectar off your damp naked folds. His tongue teases around the entrance of your vagina before pushing it in, fucking your opening with his wet muscle. You cry on his girth, your tail cringing in the air from the stimulation. He spots it and grabs it from the base; how your lower half jolts to the grasp is humorously darling to him. So cute.

The minutes go longer as you two keep pleasing each other, and a soft whimper escapes your lips when you release Toji from your lips, lips plastering long and sweet kisses on his shaft as you massage the tip. Your other hand palms and kneads his ballsack, the jerk of his thighs rewarding to see, so you increase the pace of your hand.

“—Thhh, nmm!” Toji curses from behind, sluggishly licking from clit to your slit while succumbing to your touch and mouth. “Shiiit, just like that, baby, suck me off like t—Mmngh! Christ, I’m gonna..fffuckin’ cum…”

But then, you remove yourself from Toji’s member, the cold air instantly blanketing him. Green eyes blink as you move off of his lying body, observing you bending over with your face to the cold sheets.

“Toji,” you plea to him desperately, hooded eyes shining eagerly. “Please, I need it…Here,” you spread your ass, fully exposing your slit wet from your fluids mixed with his saliva. Jesus, you were heathing as if you were in heat. “Do it here, I need it inside…!”

You had the man shook; the cogs in his mind stopped working briefly. The picture of you presenting yourself like this to him was unexpected, but goddamn, did it turn him on astronomically! Toji stands on his knees and advances to you, removing his tank top and discarding it to the floor. “Yeah? You want it that bad?” You nod impetuously. “Words, sweetie. Need you to tell me what to do.”

“Toji, pleeease…!” You wiggle your ass until he cusps it, kneading your flesh lovingly to the point that your tail curls around his forearm. “Please, put it in, I wanna feel it…!”

“Yeah, is that what my princess wants?” You and Toji bite your lips when he aligns his tip to your inner labia, teasing you with grinding motions. “Does my demon baby want Daddy to mess y’r insides that bad?”

Oh, we’re playing that card, too? Holy shit, you were getting so wet from this! “Yess, Daddy, pleasee! Mess me up with that dick, wanna be filled up right nooww…!”

He can’t hide the proud grin. “Good girl. Here,” Toji begins to push the cockhead to you, and your lips flatten at the wince of pain that accompanies the push. “Stay still, and lemme reward you,” his hips move slowly in your direction, you grip the sheets to prepare yourself, and your nerves are dialed to a plane of exhilaration you can’t regulate. Oh my God, is this happening? He’s gonna fuck me? So many thoughts cloud your mind, too excited and anxious for what’s to come because it’s been so. Damm. Long. How’s it gonna feel? Is your body ready enough? How does Toji feel about this; is he just as nervous as you a—

Your train of thought is brought to an abrupt halt at the sensation of Toji’s tip finally inserting itself into your vagina, too absentminded that your open mouth couldn’t say a word. Oh, fuck it’s in, it’s in! Your eyes widen, your muscles tense, and your voice struggles to cry. The older man continues to add himself leisurely, the length sundering your slit and stretching your opening as you take him inch by inch. Your back arches instinctively, wailing silently as you can feel the foreign limb intruding your tightness, quick quirks of your frame as he rubs your velvety texture. Ohhhh, my God…!!

When he slowly starts to rut into you, recurring waves of rapture hit your nerves every. Single. Time! You’re entire body is rocked to the core with every short yet gentle pound; the feeling of Toji’s veiny cock scrapping your channel has you shivering. And once he’s encouraged to push his entire member until the very hilt, you yelp aloud when the tip kisses your womb. “—Oooh??!”

“—Mmngh!” Your quick spasm surprises Toji. “Ohhh, shit, there it is. Hmm? Is this where ya want me, mama? Want me right…here?” He snaps his hips swiftly, the rushed movement and hit to your cervix knocks you winded. And another, you keep wringing his shaft acutely. “Ahhn, God fucking damn i—Iisshhffuck, fuck, I can’t, gonna…Hnghh!”

Toji’s body shudders above you, bucking into your warmth with a jittery pattern. The prolonged reaction of his orgasm claims him now, succumbing to the silky, tight texture and how well you’re grasping onto his girth. He comes inside you, moaning as he ejaculates earlier than expected. You sense it, humming to the immediate filling. So warm, so full of his cock already that your toes curl. 

And Jesus Christ, it felt so. Fucking, Good! You were no longer drunk from the alcohol; now, you were intoxicated by the prowess and pleasure of Toji’s dick. 

“Hah, haaaah, fuck,” he throws his head back with a hiss, his abdomen relaxing from the earlier flex. Then, your tail glides up from his abs, feeling up on his skin and roaming on his happy trail. He snickers at your feline-like comportment, “Heh, actin’ all cute now that you got what ya wanted, huh?” You say nothing, bashful to his words, while your tail curls up to his chin. “Don’t go quiet on me now, dollface; I heard you squeaking and moanin’ seconds ago.”

Toji then returns to rut into you despite recovering from his climax, furled to have you shrieking uncontrollably for him. The smacks of his pelvis recoil the flesh of your ass, his come stuffed inside you now glued to his erection as he rocks into you balls-deep. “Mmmm, yeah, that’s right, baby,” he grabs your tail and wraps it around his hand to pull; you scream louder, and your vaginal walls clamp tighter than ever. “Arch more fr’ me, enjoy me—nmm…!—fuckin’ you real good.”

The pull of your tail makes your senses hypersensitive, perturbed by the stress of it being pulled, yet the enjoyment you feel from it is too inexorable to comprehend. Coherent sentences double down to undecipherable babbles, “—Daahh, hoohhfuuc—D-Daddyyy, Daddyyy…!!” Tears well up in your eyes as he inflicts blows to your ass, the pain too quick to prepare for yet the sting enough to make you rigid. “—Too much, ish t’oo muuuch…!”

Another smack to your butt, and you howl once again. “Huh, ya say that, but y’re milkin’ my cock like crazy.” He bends down to remove your hands that try to hide your face and horns with the pillow. “What, ya don’t like this? Hmm? Want me to stop?” 

“No, nooo!!” You shook your head immediately; your vision blurred for a few seconds. “I loveee iit, I love this, love Daddy’s diick—Ahaaa!! More…I want moreee!” Fuck, this is bad; any more than this, and you’ll be addicted for sure.

“Good,” he whispers to your ears. Good Lord, you weren’t going to survive. “Because I ain’t done wit’ ya yet, princess.”

Before you can register his sentence fully, Toji straightens and lays on his side behind you, lifting your leg to create a suitable angle. He then plunges into you harder and faster, the different positions helping the sporadic cadence achieve deeper penetration while scraping your upper wall with ease. At this point, your body is too hot and sticky to care about anything else outside this room; your head pounding and too misty, your senses corrupted by the constant pokes to your cervix and the increasing haze that you don’t feel human anymore. Your succubus roots flourish, drool escapes your lips, and wanting nothing but this feeling to remain ceaseless.

“Gahh, ohhhDaddyyy, ahhahh,” eyes roll to your skull at the brush of your sweet spots. “Shhoo good, I fweel shoo gooood…! Harder, hardeeerr!” 

“—Khhck, goin’ as hard as I fuckin’ can!!” Toji kisses your cheek after a lick, chewing on it after hearing you mewl submissively. “Jesus, this pussy, out of this fuckin’—Nnngh…world.”

You turn to him and claim his lips, and he reciprocates into your steamy kiss. Vulgar tongues exchange spit and encroach on each other’s mouth, and you helplessly suck on Toji’s after he shoves it, your puffy lips intaking the attractive noises he makes. And you slither a hand down to your clitoris to swipe erratically while your tail goes around Toji’s waist and curves into the crevice of his ass. Suddenly, Toji stiffens at the pointy end of your tail, tickling his anus, and the raven-haired man gasps at the insertion. Too stunned to speak, he can only move his hips rapidly, his white-ringed shaft digging deep into you with the help of stimulating his prostate. 

“—Taahhh, y-you, lil’ minx…!” He breaks the kiss and bites your lip to hear you whimper. “Tryin’ ta make me cum again?”

You nod, breathing heavily. “Ohhh, Daddy, I’m so close…! Gonna come!”

“Me too, mama, me too…” 

Hot moans and groans fly out of each other’s mouths, bodies stuck to each other as you both chase for release. Everything feels so fast, so hot, happening all at once; all you can think about is the grinding presses you push up on your delicate clit. Fuck, fuck! It’s coming, it’s coming…!”

Then, it arrives. Your cunt, aching for the climax, receives the crescendo you’ve been aching for this entire time. The walls of your vulva contract around Toji’s member, milking and wringing him as you come loose to your grounding. A clear liquid exerts out of your urethra, showering out to stain your panties, torn pantyhose, and bedsheets, your breathing losing its steadiness and falling to a jagged tempo. The same goes for Toji, who falls into his peak along with you; your fluttering folds force him to submit and release his second load into you with a hiss. The older man’s heaving frame keeps bucking into you until every drop fills you to the brim, burrowing his face deep into your neck to rest as the shocks rock you both.

Finally, everything goes quiet. The cozy atmosphere pulls you out of your heightened elevation and lays you down with silent clarity. Both you and Toji, sweaty and sticky all over, are still linked to each other as the high dissipates. Shuddering figures begin to calm down and fall at ease with the tranquility.

Toji kisses your neck, and you croon until he comes to lay his lips on yours for a tender peck, then on your soft cheek and your temple. He then removes his flaccid bulge, white fluids oozing out of your hole. “Damn, that was good,” he mutters breathlessly. “Hmm, how ya feel—“

The onyx-haired man couldn’t finish his question because of the sudden change of positions you abruptly conducted. He now lays on his back with you straddling him; the calm tone switched to an unexpected spiking mood. 

You then hand grab his dick and arrange it back to your raised hips. Viridian orbs widen. Wait. The tip meets your labia once more before you descend it down. What the f—hold on— And then, his cock is swallowed back inside your wetness, and Toji grits his teeth.

 “Sh-Shit, sweetie,” Toji’s hands come to your waist. “What’s up, aren’t y—“

“Sorry, Toji,” the man surveys with confusion, watching you strip off and throw your shirt somewhere. Your naked chest is now out for him to see, and his breath hitches when you place your hands on his pectorals while a span of bat-like wings springs out from your back. “…That wasn’t enough.”

Wasn’t enough?? He repeats with furrowed brows, noticing the half-lidded, lustful expression and the sharp dents of your canines. Then, it hits him: 

“The desire of a succubus can be dangerous, you know? And since it’s been a while since I’ve let my powers out, I’m sure it’s nastier than ever…”

…Oh, shit. “Wait, we can talk about—“ You get your answer once you bounce on his cock without notice, Toji nearly choking on his tongue. Nope, no room for prattling.

“You let out so much, made my mind go so crazy,” you grind your hips on his pelvis, squeezing his limp cock while it gets firmer and firmer. “Feel so good…More, I want moreee…”

“C-C’mon now, baby, can’t we take a break for a minute at least—“You bring your face an inch away from his.

“Daddy,” your neighbor shudders at the gentle kiss you place under his chin. “Please take care of me like you promised, ‘kay?”

Your gaze lured him in, a trap he was foolish enough to fall for. Because now, he’s stuck under your bow as you begin to inflict an inescapable rhythm, rebounding on his erection until the base meets your folds. Choked groans suppressed by Toji, but take his lips with yours, enforcing a loving yet salacious spell with your satisfied moans. Now, your crush realizes you weren’t the meek, adorable neighbor he dotes on. 

Tonight, he was yours to play like a fiddle…And shame on him for getting way more turned on than he should be!

Wow. Guess I’m dyin’ tonight.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

I should be fuckin’ dead right now.

Toji knew something was up when his eyelids opened, and his emerald eyes scanned the ceiling, instantly recognizing that he wasn’t in his master bedroom. The rays of sunshine are blocked from the curtains, yet the light of day crawls in and basks the room in a low glow. Chirps of birds outside greet him on the basking of a new autumn day, lying comfortably in the cold, silky sheets of the bed.

He wakes to a bit of a headache, mentally and physically groggy. Attempts to move are already tricky and aches all over his body keep him grounded in the mattress. Ugh, feel like I’ve lost all feelin’ in my legs; the man can’t even lift one leg without a grimace. And even his arms are challenging, one so oddly heavy as if it’s nailed down. 

“Fuck, man.” His first words of the day are a curse, irritated by the drum of his head. He tries to lift himself; again, it’s not possible, agitating the man even more. And why the fuck is my arm so hea—

He doesn’t finish his sentence — the answer reveals itself once he turns his head to the left. 

He sees you, surprised to view you in your natural form still. Horns have grown a little larger, yet still small enough for you to rest your cheek on his shoulder. You were sound asleep, faint snores picked up by his ears as he examined your face at ease with a peaceful slumber. Nude, the both of you, a hand wrapped around his left arm to stick close to you while the other is stationed at his chest, your bat wings shriveled together to not get damaged. And judging by the snake-ish feeling, your tail was curled around his bare thigh. 

Strangely innocent to see after the events of last night flash into Toji’s recollection, funny to match such a lewd scenario to such a sweet face. He stifles a laugh, placing his right hand on the vulnerable one on him, his thumb caressing your knuckles as he grasps your fingers. Suddenly, some of the soreness he harbors feels light — glad I ain’t dead, I guess.

Your eyes jit behind your eyelids, a soft groan as you suddenly move and scrunch your face. Finally, your drowsy eyes sheepishly flicker open. Lidded gaze fighting the spell of sleep with every bat of your eyes.

“Mornin’, gorgeous.” Toji greets you.

“…”

“…”

In real-time, Toji watches your somnolent morph into a gradual display of mortification. He’s a little envious to see you spring up with no strain on your body, wings batting out of their relaxed state, and your hand still with his. “T-Toji??” You question directly, eyes surveying the nude neighbor in your bed, doing everything in your power to ignore the fact that you’re naked as well. Speaking of, you notice the subtle pink glow of your womb tattoo, and anxiety spikes to a high. “I–uhh–I’m so so sorry for last night! Sorry you had to bring me back home, and I didn’t mean to act weirdly on you with—Ooof?!”

“Relax,” he cuts you off by pulling you back to his lying frame, his left hand now free to snake on your shoulder. “Don’t talk so fast; my head’s poundin’ like crazy.”

You blink aimlessly, awkward now that you’re fully aware you’re in this man’s embrace. You can’t help recalling what transpired last night, suddenly feeling squeamish. “…You okay?”

“I feel like my life’s been drained by my dick,” he answers bluntly, adding more weight to your embarrassment. “Wakin’ up to a pretty face who nearly killed me with their pussy isn’t somethin’ I’d expect.” 

“……sorry.”

“It’s alright,” calloused fingers glide and intertwine with his yours, stroking your thumb with his. “Had a good time either way. Wild, but good.”

“Really…?” 

“Really.” You probably shouldn’t have peered up to see him look your direction. Albeit exhausted, his handsome face and sleepy grin ignite the heat on your cheeks. And your stomach flips, hearing a laugh when you meekly avert your gaze away. “How many times did we do it?”

“…Not sure,” long enough for my womb tattoo to be blatant. 

“Me either. Does that happen often?”

“Sometimes? I guess it’s because I haven’t done it for a long time, so I went…off the rails because of the intensity.”

“Noted, because I never felt so old until now. I probably pulled somethin’.”

“….Sorry.”

“Y’re good,” Toji scoffs before moving to place a soft kiss on your forehead, and your heart skips the tighter his hand holds your hand. “Tell ya what, I can help you with that cycle of yours, probably…twice a month, so it doesn’t get too crazy like last night. And don’t use y’re powers or some shit to make me forget, either. I don’t wan’ that.”

You lift your face from his shoulder, the heat spreading to your ears. “You don’t have to do that, Toji, I wouldn’t—“

“Nah, I’m down; it’s what neighbors for. Besides, it finally gives me a reason to make ya interact with me more.” Again, his smug smirk causes knots in your stomach. “Like the sound of that, mama? Let Daddy take care of you?”

Your lips quiver, and you hide your face back onto his shoulder. The rumble of his laughter worsens the butterflies in your stomach, and your tail squeezes on his thigh. “Don’t say it like that, Toji!”

“Y’r tail seems to like it.”

“Stop it!”

♱ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by tamayura banko + dividers by @cafekitsune.

[bunny-jpeg]

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ i like my men older - simon riley♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

you knew that your friends from school raised an eyebrow when you told them that you were dating a man almost double your age. you were in your twenties, while this 'simon' guy was close to fifty. you told them that he was an army man who had a gooey center for you.

your friends could see the upgrade in your laptop and the new knapsack with a logo that proclaimed it was expensive. the small chain around your neck with a 's' on it that you toyed with when they asked questions about him.

you looked happy, healthier even! you weren't eating minute meals and surviving off of black coffee. there was a little roundness to your cheeks now and you looked more alive. a glow to you that wasn't that while you trudged through your graduate program. so honestly, how could they complain?

if you had a glow to you, it was because you were often fucked out. most women your age through that dating an older man would mean having to go slow. be patient about technical difficulties regarding their cocks. that was what you expected from a man that old. especially one with aches and pains like simon. your poor si, he had been in the military his entire life. barely had the touch of a woman during that time! poor guy! of course you'll teach him all the ways a woman should please a man. the first time you ran your tongue on the underside of his cock he cam all over your head, and while you whined. it made you crazy hot. fucking simon was like fucking a live wire. he hadn't slowed down with age. he fucked like a stallion in breeding season. and he loved when he pulled his heavy cock into you. you once told him that he could be a cervix breaker. and he simply said, "well, if i break it... i can't breed it." which made you go slack jaw for a moment before he continued to rut up against you. you didn't expect a man of his age to have a breeding kink.

you practically begged your doctor to give you birth control, because he was not buying condoms. "don't fit in 'em, lovie." he said as he patted his clothed cock when you started dating. you knew that was impossible, condoms could fit a lot of things and while simon was fairly big. he could fit in a condom. but, no. when you tried to put them on yourself, he simply took it off, tossed it to the side and pinned you under his heavy weight. legs in the air as he rutted against you like a hungry animal.

he was so much bigger than you. wide shoulders, strong thighs and a bit of a gut to keep you folded under him. there was a masculine heft to him. he was strong, picking you up was easy to him even when you tried to tell him your weight. one time he gripped you by the waist with one arm and moved you out of the way. you kicked and squeaked as you were moved. but to simon it was easy as lifting heavy equipment. but that softness to some of his muscles really got you hot all over. it didn't help that part of your role as his girlfriend was to make sure that your man was fed. you cooked him meals and he over devoured in your sweet dessert. he loved you in an apron. all domestic and sweet for him. you were real wifey material. could easily be cooking meals for him and the kids in a few years. you can have a graduate degree and a few riley babies. "look good cookin' for me, darlin'. know how to make a proper meal for your man." you wouldn't admit but his words excited you.

simon can be a little... chauvinistic. it was just his age. while he respected female colleagues in the military and was beyond happy that you were getting your degree. he'd do things for you that you could clearly do on your own. like when you tried to fix the leaky tap in your flat. or when you try to carry all the groceries inside. yes, darling, you're a strong woman. but let him take over. take care of you. that was what a man did right? he'll cut the onions for you and try to fix your buggy wi-fi connection. he's pay for dinner every time and even get you dessert after. he'd wipe your face clear of the sweet treat you'd have. "don't ask her anything too difficult, johnny. she doesn't need to be thinkin' too hard." he once said with his hands over your ears and glared at his teammate. which only made the scotsman laugh. simon didn't mind if he had to take over. he'd never pull the rug out from under you, even when you were under him. you looked prettier under him, letting him take charge of your fucking. he took care of his girl, even when you whined and told him you were capable. there was no need to whine. simon needed to take care of his much smaller, much weaker baby girl. no need to break a nail trying to do stuff that simon could easily do for you.

even with the grey in his blond hair, he still kept up to you. there were times that you were too exhausted from day-to-day that you let simon rut between your thighs until he covered your round ass with his hot cum. you'd whimper which would turn into a yelp when he easily slipped his heavy cock into your sweet pussy. where it belonged. he fucked you heavily as his cum coated your behind, even trailing down your sloped back as you had your head in the covers.

"don't spill a drop off that pretty ass, baby girl. or else i'd might have to mark you again." thank god you liked your men older. <3

[shipperoftooncouples]

Finally I had the courage to buy them, I'm feeling so happy, like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders 💕

[not-neverland06]

we're dating? ♡

logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

One-shot A/N: I've decided using the same X-men name/powers for the reader in my Logan fics is easier because coming up with superpowers is hard and stupid. They call you flux, like once, it's really just a nickname incoming warning for fluff so bad you'll get a cavity Summary: You're on probation from the team and official house arrest after a little accident with your powers. Logan knows you're going stir-crazy so he takes you to the arcade for some fun. And then your friendship takes a weird turn. (80's timeline in mind, but characters not from the 80’s will be mentioned) Clueless!reader

You’d had an accident, a few weeks ago. Well, accident might be downplaying it too much. You’d destroyed the garden and left a ten-foot crater in the backyard of Charles’ prestigious grounds. In your defense, you had warned them all that it wasn’t a good idea to take your cuffs off. 

The metal bands are entirely necessary to make sure you can’t lose control and wipe out everything around you. Manipulation at an atomic level is beyond fatal. You don’t want to think about what would have happened if you’d had the meltdown and the kids were anywhere near you. 

Charles had been able to shut you down, but now he’s keeping you on probation. You’ve been locked up in the mansion, unable to leave until you managed to get your abilities under control. There’s never been a problem with wearing the cuffs before. You don’t understand why he’s so against them now. 

You’re going stir-crazy. There’s only so many times you can pace your room before you start to lose your mind. He’s not even letting you teach classes anymore. You’re stuck training, all day, every day. 

“Focus!” Charles snaps and you resist the urge to turn his bones liquid. Maybe that would get him off your back. 

Instead of killing your friend, you glare at the large tank of water in front of you. You do what you’ve been doing for the past half hour. It fluctuates from liquid to gas to solid, and then liquid again. An endless cycle of repetition that makes you want to melt your brain so you don’t have to do this anymore. 

You drop your hand and huff. “This is pointless, Charles. What’s this even teaching me?”

He crosses his arms, walks over to you, and pointedly glares at the tank in front of you. You roll your eyes and look back at it. “Shit,” you hiss. In your frustration, the glass has cracked and splintered into dust. Water pools around your stool and leaks through the wood of the floor. You flick your wrist, the glass swirling around you before reforming into the tank. The water follows along, droplets lifting from the floor and dropping back into the container. 

“One moment of frustration, of distraction. That’s all it took.” Charles shakes his head and walks back over to his desk. He picks the cuffs up and you slip them silently back onto your wrists. “How can you be trusted to protect your team on the field if you can’t control this? What are you going to do when you’re panicked and fighting for your life?”

Shame bubbles in your gut. It makes you nauseous and forces your eyes to the floor so you don’t have to face him. He sighs, placing his hands on your shoulders and squeezing gently. You glance up at him briefly and he offers a strained smile. 

“This is for your protection, as much as you hate it, Flux. It’s necessary.” You scoff at the use of your X-Men name. Not much of an X-Man if you’re not even on the field anymore. 

“Right,” you mutter. “Thanks for the lesson in incompetency,” you don’t let him respond and slam the door to his office closed behind you. You feel bad the second you get outside and onto the porch. He doesn’t deserve your bitchiness. It’s your own fault you can’t get a handle on this. You don't have anyone to blame but yourself. 

You let out a dramatic sigh, throwing yourself into a rocking chair and running your hands over your face. The once comforting weight of your cuffs is now oppressing. It just feels like a constant reminder of your failure. You should already have a handle on all of this, but you struggle to even manipulate water. 

“Rough day?” You don’t open your eyes as Logan walks by. He takes a seat on the rocking chair beside you, letting out a low groan as he stretches. 

You let your hands drop into your lap, staring at the sunset so you don’t have to face him. You’ve already dealt with enough dejection today. You don’t need to look at him and be reminded that you want him in a way you can never have. 

“Mhm,” you hum, propping your head in your hand as you watch the sun disappear behind the clouds. The sky is painted in hues of pink and orange that seem too hopeful for how you feel right now. 

Logan chuckles, the sound low and gravely. It makes your heart stutter in your chest and you cringe in embarrassment. You know he can hear the way your heart practically beats free of your ribs when you’re around him. You’re sure with that nose of his he can smell some sort of hormonal change in you every time you lay eyes on him. 

You swear you’ve never felt this way about a man before. You haven’t had many boyfriends before, it’s not really common among mutants. Not many people are accepting of you when they know what you are. And some people are too into you. 

But you've had crushes, and none of them have been as bad as this one is. You want to gnaw on him. It sounds fucking insane every time you think about it. But when you train with him and he tears his shirt off, you want to sink your teeth into him and never let go. 

You feel feral around him, a side of you surfacing that you’re not used to. Maybe it’s because of his mutant abilities. They are very animalistic, it’s easy to blame that on how desperately you crave him. 

You hate being around him and despise not being in his presence. It’s conflicting, and more often than not you sound like a bumbling idiot when you speak to him because your brain is going in a million different directions. 

You hear the familiar click of his lighter and then he shifts again. You risk a peek over at him and regret it the second you do. His head is tilted back, eyes closed in relaxation as he stretches across the porch. Smoke leaks out of his lips as he groans in satisfaction. 

You have to pick your jaw up off the floor and make sure there isn’t drool on your chin. This is insane. You’re a grown woman, how does he have this much of an effect on you? He’s not even doing anything! He’s just sitting there and you want to jump his bones. 

You whip your head around, mumbling incoherently to yourself to get it together. Logan peaks an eye open and you miss the mischievous tilt to his lips. “Something wrong?”

I need to have sex with you or I’m going to explode. 

You stutter for a few seconds, getting your mind back together. “Just training with Charles,” you mutter. 

He sits up a little straighter and quirks a brow. When you don’t continue he sighs. “And?” He prods, impatient for your answer. You hope you’re not reading into it, but you think he’s been as disappointed by your absence from the team as you are. He always complains about being partnered up with Scott. You like to think it’s because he misses you. But you’re probably just delusional. 

“And, nothing,” you sigh. Your hands flop against your legs and you glare at the bands on your wrists. “No progress. I still can’t control them without these on, and my abilities are watered down and useless with the cuffs.”

Logan huffs, you’re caught off guard by the sudden warmth on your thigh. You glance down, eyes widening ever so slightly when you see his hand on your leg. It nearly covers the whole thing and when he squeezes your thigh you think you’re going to pass out. 

You’re friendly. But you’ve never been touchy. At least not like this. The placement of his palm is very intimate and you are struggling not to just get on your knees and profess your undying love. You take in a deep breath, looking up at him so you can get your heartbeat under control. 

But looking at him just makes it worse. Because there is so much faith and fondness in his gaze as he looks at you. His lips are tilted up, eyes soft, and you’ve never had someone make you feel so warm and secure from just a look. 

“You aren’t useless,” he tells you. He squeezes your thigh again before he retreats back to his chair. You have to clamp your jaw shut so you don’t beg him to keep touching you and never stop. “You’re just stuck in this house all day. You’ve got nothing to do but sit in your failure.”

You scoff and throw yourself back in your seat. “Don’t remind me. I’ve begged Charles to let me out.” Your gaze drifts to the crater in the backyard. Some of the kids have been working on filling it in, but whatever energy you’d let go of has left a permanent mark. “He refuses to give me permission.”

Logan laughs, the noise teasing and a little mean. Your brows furrow and you glance over at him with a questioning look. He tilts his head in disbelief like you’re an idiot. “Seriously, Flux? Just fuckin’ leave, who gives a shit?”

“Uh,” you think on it for a minute before weakly settling on, “Charles?”

His face falls and you sink lower into your seat. He looks out at the yard, gaze distant. His jaw clenches a few times before he puts the cigar out on the ashtray beside him. He gets to his feet and you think he might just leave. Instead, he turns towards you. 

You’re caught off guard by the little smirk on his face. “Wanna have some fun?”

Only an idiot would say no. 

You grin and place your hand in his, yelping slightly at how easily he pulls you to your feet. You stumble into his chest and are hesitant to back away when his hand drifts to rest on your waist. He looks down at you, smiling, he squeezes your waist once before he backs up. 

“Come on, kid.” He tugs you inside the house, leading you downstairs to the garage. You already know what he’s going for before the door is even open. 

“Didn’t Scott tell you to leave his bike alone?” Logan takes a step inside. He pauses, glancing over his shoulder and grinning at you. It makes your breath catch in your throat, the happiness on his face. You never see him like this around the others. 

You hate thinking like that. Placing too much importance on your relationship with him will only lead to heartbreak down the road. But, you never see him act the way he does with you with anyone else.

“Since when have I ever listened to Cyclops, sweetheart?” 

“Good point,” you mutter, moving to stand next to him. 

He straddles the seat and looks over expectantly at you. “Don’t you need a helmet?”

You shake your head, “Oh, no, it’ll ruin my hair.” You laugh but he gives you a deadpan look. You don’t regenerate the way he does. An accident would be a lot more fatal for you than it would be for him. You huff, “Relax, Lo, I can use my powers.” When he looks like he’s not going to drop it, you let some energy swirl around your fingers. It solidifies the air around your skin, you reach up and flick at his skull hard enough to hear the metal ding. 

He grunts, glaring down at your hand while you grin. “See,” you whisper, sliding onto the back of the bike and wrapping your arms around his waist. “I’m perfectly safe.” He shakes his head and starts the bike. 

The ride to the arcade is spent in silence. Logan always seems to break every speeding law known to man whenever he takes Scott’s bike out. You’re not sure if he does it to purposefully piss the man off, but it makes you cling to him like a wild animal. You feel like if you hit one speed bump you’re going to go flying. 

By the time he parks your legs feel like jello. He laughs a little at the way your face has blanched. Again, he offers you a hand and holds the door open to lead you inside. You’re trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but this whole thing is odd. 

You guys are friends. And you’re friendlier with each other than most of the mutants in the school. But this feels different somehow. For one, Logan kind of despises the arcade. It’s an amalgamation of bad smells and loud noises, and it overwhelms his already sensitive senses. You’ve heard him complain about the smell of body odor and fake cheese enough times when you went on a field trip with the kids. 

Secondly, he’s being more touchy than he normally would. You’re not complaining. You weren’t exactly hugged a lot as a kid, mainly just passed between different mutant fetish clubs. Logan isn’t known for handing hugs out so easily. But right now, he doesn’t seem to be ready to not have at least one hand on you. 

Maybe he’s just cheering you up. You need to stop drifting so far into your mind and just enjoy the night. “Alright, what’s first bub?”

You grin and drag him towards the claw machine. “I’m horrible at these things,” you inform him as you put your quarters in. “But, I hold out hope that one day I’ll be able to actually beat this monster.”

Three failed attempts later, it’s become embarrassingly clear that you will never beat the claw machine. Logan isn’t even trying to hide his amusement as you become increasingly more frustrated. There’s a certain point where this game stops being fun and starts to be an affront to your character. 

Logan peers into the machine and asks, “What are you going for?”

“The pigeon,” you mutter. Your tongue pokes between your lips, and your eyes narrow in concentration. You aim the claw over the pigeon perfectly and slam your hand down on the big red button. 

You’re allowed five seconds of celebration before the damn thing slips out of the claws grasp and tumbles into the pile of stuffies below. “Dammit, Bart,” you let the ridiculous name you’ve come up with for the toy slip.

Logan snorts, leaning against the glass while you jam another quarter in the slot. “Bart?” He teases. 

You shake your head and give him a look out the side of your eye. “What, you think I call myself Flux because I’m good at coming up with names?” You give up after the last failed attempt and turn to face him with a huff. 

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Tough luck, kid.” He slings an arm over your shoulder and pulls you towards the concession stand. 

“Shut up,” you laugh, slapping lightly at his chest. 

The rest of the night is nice. He doesn’t play much except for the strength-oriented games. And then you kind of just exploit him for more tickets. By the time you get back to the mansion, you’ve forgotten all about why you were upset in the first place. 

Nothing had gone wrong, you didn’t have a total meltdown and wipe out the entire arcade. You don’t know why Charles was so afraid of letting you out. 

Logan walks you back to your room, his hand heavy on your lower back as you head up the stairs. You’re talking endlessly, filling up any gap of silence with rambling you’ve lost track of. You don’t know what it is about him that invites you to yap the way you do, but you’re always embarrassed by it the second he leaves. 

You reach your door and smile up at him. “Thanks, Lo.”

He gives you a soft smile, his eyes wrinkling endearingly at the corners. He reaches up and brushes some hair off your shoulder. There’s a certain shift in his expression that has your breath stopping short. Whatever else you were going to say to him tumbles off into an incomprehensible whisper. 

He leans down and every inappropriate thought you’ve ever had about him suddenly surges to the front of your mind. Your lips part in anticipation, thinking he’s going to kiss you and your fantasies are going to come to life. 

His lips brush against your cheek so gently you almost don’t feel them. “‘Night Flux,” he leans back and your body goes with him. He backs off with a smile, walking down the hall to his own room. You feel dazed, eyelashes fluttering rapidly as you fan your cheeks and try to come to terms with what just happened.

He didn’t kiss you, but you oddly aren’t disappointed. You go to bed that night with a lovesick grin on your face. Well, you would have. Were it not for the annoyingly British voice ringing out in your head, “Training’s at four tomorrow morning. Consider it your punishment for sneaking out.”

“Fuck,” you hiss to yourself. Stupid fucking telepaths. 

You thought the arcade was a one-off moment. But Logan keeps sneaking you out of the mansion. Charles hasn’t officially lifted the house arrest, but he’s given up trying to keep you inside. Besides, you’ve essentially got a chaperone since Logan is always with you. 

You make lunch for the two of you and he’ll take you out to the woods for a picnic. Or you’ll go to the movies together. Sometimes you don’t even do anything, just linger around each other. You enjoy the company, and you love having these quiet moments together with no one else around. 

Your favorite part of all of this has to be the way he’s started touching you. He’s always got a hand on your leg or back. And if he can’t do that, then you’re tucked into his side. It’s feeding into a starved part of you that you’ve left neglected for far too long. 

It’s only been about two weeks of these fun little adventures and odd behavior. You’re dreading the moment they’ll stop. You’re not sure when Logan’s going to deem you properly cheered up, but you’re hoping it’s not anytime soon. 

There have been a few more moments where you think your friendship might turn into something more, and every time you’ve been interrupted. You’re actually starting to feel a little edged. You’ve been considering just grabbing him and planting one on him. But every time you think about it you get sick to your stomach. 

You don’t want to make a move on him and end up getting rejected. You know he’s just being a good friend and taking care of you so you don’t end up spiraling too far in your head. It’s happened before, when you’ve been struggling with your abilities. He’s just keeping you from shutting down again and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable because you’re hopelessly in love. 

When you walk out of your room this morning you’re immediately smacked in the face. “What the fuck, guys?” You yell at the two kids running past your room. Not the best language for someone who's supposed to be a role model. You can’t be bothered though, not when they’re running around throwing pink rolls of streamer at your face. 

“Sorry!” Mary calls over her shoulder, laughing as she pins a heart up onto the wall. You’re sure Charles won’t appreciate the hole in his old ass mahogany wood. It’s only as you watch her run down the stairs that you register just what is going on. 

There is pink and red everywhere. It looks like Dollar Store Cupid has thrown up all over the mansion. You’ve been so caught up in your attraction to Logan that, ironically, you’ve forgotten what month it was. 

You grumble bitterly to yourself as you trudge down the stairs. Another Valentine’s Day alone and single. How lovely. You spot two kids giggling to themselves by the banister, they lean in like they’re going to kiss and you gag. “Hey!” You snap, and they jump apart, eyes wide with fear. “Quit it, get out of here.” They scramble off and you feel just a little bit vindicated. 

“Not a fan of young love, Flux?”

You groan and roll your eyes, turning around to find a very smug Scott watching you bully teenagers. “Shut it, Summers,” you warn. You point an accusing finger at him and he raises his hands in surrender. Faux innocence played across his insufferable smirk. “When you’re in a committed relationship, you don’t get to judge me.”

His brows turn down in confusion, “Wait, but aren’t you and Logan-”

He’s cut off by the sound of a loud crash down the hall. You both turn around just as one of the classroom doors slams open. A bright pink explosion hurtles from the doors and a throng of coughing students follows. 

Jubilee walks out a minute later, a guilty expression on her face. “Sorry, I was just trying to make it more Vanetine-y.” 

You glance over at Scott, grinning widely at him while you pat his shoulder and walk past him, leaving him to clean up the mess. “Enjoy the young love, Summers.”

You actively avoid Logan all day. You’re already facing constant reminders of how lonely you are. You see kids walking around with baskets of bears and chocolates. Or you catch them passing notes in class with scribbled hearts all over the front. 

There’s only so much a girl can take before she loses it. The last thing you need is to be faced with the man you have the worst unrequited crush on in history. But he doesn’t seem to get the hint. He’s everywhere you go, popping up around corners and trying to catch your attention. 

You keep brushing him off and pretending like you have something urgent you’re going to be late for. Eventually, though, he was going to catch up with you. 

It happens in the kitchen. Most of the kids are in their rooms or the library. The noise has died down and you’re alone. You grumble to yourself, ripping down a pink streamer that keeps drifting across the top of your head and pissing you off. You grab a frozen meal from the fridge and are about to microwave it when he speaks. 

“Huh, thought you’d want something a little more romantic than a frozen burrito.” 

You gasp, clutching your chest and whirling around on him while your heart races. “Logan, Jesus, you scared me.” He’s frowning at you, eyes glaring at the frozen package in your hand. “Um,” you toss it back in the freezer but the look on his face isn’t going away. “Yeah, I might just go with cereal instead.”

He looks at you and then glances behind him. You peer around his shoulder but you don’t see anything. Without much warning, he grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the stairs. “Logan?” There’s no point in trying to resist him, he could just toss you up the stairs if he wanted to. Still, the silence is kind of creeping you out. 

You call his name a few more times but give up when he makes it clear he’s not going to be answering you anytime. There’s a rotten feeling in your stomach. You have this awful idea like you’re in trouble for something. Like a little girl who's gotten her hand caught in the cookie jar too many times. 

He stops you in front of his door and nods towards it. “You want me to go inside?” He crosses his arms and glares down at you. You huff and mutter, “Jesus, fine.” What the hell is wrong with him?

You grab the doorknob to his room, glaring at him while you do. You throw the door open dramatically, taking a step inside and surveying the area. “Wow,” you suck your teeth and shake your head. “You have not decorated at all.”

“Shut up, smartass,” he mutters in your ear. Chills prick at your skin from his proximity. A shudder goes down your spine as the low tone of his voice reverberates through you. “Look a little harder.”

You roll your eyes but acquiesce. Another run over the room finally shows you what you missed. You gasp and rush towards his bed, “Holy shit, Bart!” He chuckles behind you as you pick the stuffed pigeon up. 

“Went back for him after we left,” Logan tells you. 

You glare at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How many tries did this take you?” He mouths a smug one and you roll your eyes in irritation. You look back down at the pigeon and smile.

He smells like the inside of a claw machine. His head is sewed on crookedly and you’re pretty sure he’s missing an eye. But he’s absolutely perfect to you. You’re about to thank Logan when you spot something metal wrapped around the stuffie’s neck. “What’s this,” you mumble to yourself. 

You slide your fingers under the chain and tug it off Bart’s neck. Logan’s dog tags dangle off your fingers and you stare at him in shock. A sudden cold dread washes over you and you find yourself immobile. “Logan,” you trail off, an unspoken question following his name. 

He smirks, walking towards you and slipping the tags out of your hand. “I wanted you to have this,” he says, his voice low like this moment is too precious to break, “so you know you’re not alone. You’re always so afraid of what’s going to happen if you lose control out in the field. But you forget, you’re not alone. You have me, you’re always going to have me.” He places the tags over your neck, untucking your hair from the chain. 

You don’t even have words for him. It’s such a deeply personal gift. But this also feels incredibly intimate. There’s no possible way for you to reason this away. This isn’t something “just friends” do. 

He seems to prefer your silence, anyway. One of his hands drifts from your neck and cups your jaw. With the utmost tenderness, he lifts your face to his. “Wanted to do this for a while,” he whispers. You almost ask what he’s talking about, but his lips are already covering yours. 

It’s incredibly soft, this kiss, softer than you’re used to. He’s barely putting any pressure on you and it makes you realize that you’re still not moving. You’re just standing there in shock, eyes wide open while the man you’ve wanted since you’ve known him kisses you. 

You drop Bart to the floor and your arms come up to twine around his neck. You finally close your eyes, let your body melt into his knowing he’ll catch you. The second you reciprocate he really kisses you. Neither of you hold back, each of you pouring all the pent-up desire you’ve felt for each other. 

You’ve spent so long dancing around this, around each other. It’s like a missing puzzle piece is returned to you as Logan holds you. You feel full, complete, warmer than you ever have before. 

You part from him - needing air - painfully slow. You don’t want to spend a second away from him now that you have him. You wish you didn’t have to breathe. Wished you could have kept kissing him and never stopped. 

Logan chuckles, pressing a kiss against your forehead like he can read your thoughts. You can feel the dorky smile that’s about to split your cheeks. You bite your lip, hoping it might suppress it, but you know it’s pointless. 

You look up at him with a cheeky twinkle in your eye. “Are you asking me to be your Valentine, Lo?”

He scoffs and pulls away from you slightly. “Do you have to ask your girlfriend to be your Valentine?”

Your eyes widen and your mouth opens and closes rapidly. “I- Well- I mean,” you take a full step back from him and shake your head. “What?” You finally settle on. “I mean, I’m not objecting, at all, but what?”

Logan tilts his head, a disbelieving look on his face. “What do you think we’ve been doing the past three weeks?”

You shake your head, stuttering and struggling for an answer. “I don’t know. I thought you were being a good friend!”

He smiles, there’s no irritation on his face at your cluelessness. If anything he seems to be more endeared to you. “You think I take all my friends on romantic picnics in the woods?”

You sigh, letting out a long disappointed breath. You can’t believe you’ve been so blind. When you think about it, his behavior lately makes a lot more sense. You’re not sure how you were able to trick yourself for so long. 

“Well,” you start, walking back towards him as he pulls you into a hug, “certainly not Scott.” He huffs and shakes his head. You give him a sheepish smile, brows knitted together. “I can’t believe we’ve been dating this whole time.”

He just presses another kiss to your temple and shrugs. “It’s alright, sweetheart, you can make it up to me by being my Valentine again next year.”

There’s something unspoken in his voice. A promise that he’s planning to be around for a lot longer than a year. You smile at him, silently promising the same. “Only if you’re mine.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

a/n: i’m gonna gag actually. Made myself cringe there at the end. I want a valentine next year so bad, it’s sad. But what’s the point of a valentine if it’s not going to be Logan?

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

dividers by @/thecutestgrotto