#it's too much effort and i'm lazy enjoy

[heartowan]

You didn't really check the time, but it must've been past midnight when you entered Jason's place for the first time this week, quietly closing the door behind you and tossing your keys back into your bag, which you placed on the hanger by the entrance.

Your steps were lazy and spaced out as you walked around the apartment, looking for him in the dark ─ turning the lights on would be too much of a splurge, so you simply settled for an almost blind search.

Approaching the bathroom, you heard the faint sound of water splashing, the noise recognizable as you'd heard that a thousand times, almost in the same situation.

"You always choose such ungodly hours for bathing." You said, walking into the small room in silent steps.

Jason was laying peacefully in the bathtub, his head resting against the wall beside him as he had his eyes closed, probably enjoying the comfort of the scented candles lit around the tub. You could smell the vanilla from the wax mixed with the scent of the peach bathbomb you gave him some time ago.

"I think this is the best hour for it." He murmured, not bothering to raise his voice. You liked seeing him relaxed like that.

You sat down at the edge of the tub, taking in his soft appearance. He looked very peaceful, his eyes shut and face relaxed. It was one of the few times you'd seen him with his jaw unclenched.

As you sat, his head immediately leaned closer to your thigh, resting against it like a pillow. Your heart warmed at the sight and at the feeling.

You two had just started dating. Things were still so new to both of you, but they were going well. You liked each other, more than either of you cared to admit, still too scared to pour your hearts out. But moments like these proved that the feeling was deeper than you thought.

Running a gentle hand through his damp hair, you let out a short sigh. "You look so peaceful." you murmured quietly, your voice caressing his ears.

"I am." he replied, leaning into your touch. "Even more now."

You smiled at that. He liked to say sweet things when you least expected him to. Jason wasn't one for sweet talk, but he made an effort for you. To see that pretty smile on your lips, to make you feel loved, to make you feel his love.

"How did tonight go?" You murmured quietly, your fingers still caressing his scalp, almost making him purr like a cat. He loved head scratches.

"Mhm..." he hummed, deciding if he should sugarcoat it or tell you the truth. He chose the truth. "It was... awkward. Like, very, but it wasn't the worst night ever. I'm still getting used to these things."

"You're still getting used to galas?" You smiled, your tone incredulous. "I thought you went to these things all the time."

"I did a few times when I was younger." He said. "But it's harder to adapt now. I mean, inside. Outside, I think I look... not that out of place, but inside, it's messy." He explained to you, his fingers coming up to gently caress your side, making your shirt wet. But neither of you cared.

"I get it." You nodded, offering him a more understanding smile now. "I'm sure you did well, though. You always do."

"Maybe... maybe go with me next time." He murmured almost sheepishly, his eyes opening for the first time. They drank you, your appearance, your messy hair, your sparkly eyes, your pretty, pretty nose. Every part of your face, your clothes, your arms, everything. "I think you'd fit in."

"Me?" you mumbled, your voice cracking a bit, making you wince. Suddenly, you felt a little shy from his gaze and from his proposal. The thought of him wanting you of all people to be his plus one at those fancy events made you feel some kind of warm anxiety, close to a good, excited feeling. "I don't think I would, honestly."

"I can already see it... a beautiful outfit on you, your hair pretty and styled, silver jewelry, the most glorious shoes..." he mumbled. He sounded almost like he was daydreaming. "And, of course, your stunning self to go with all of it."

You laughed at that, a genuine laugh, one of those he seemed to pull out of you anytime he did or said something remotely funny. You were down bad for that man. Shaking your head, you gave his shoulder a gentle pat.

"That sounds like an alternative reality." You said.

"I disagree." he said, looking over at you again. "In fact... wait a minute, I'll get all of that arranged right now for next month."

You stared at him in confusion, your eyebrows knitting together as he started getting up from the tube, and then your eyes widened.

"Jason-"

He got out of the bathtub, water splashing all over the edges and dripping down to the floor, as well as on you, your shirt and pants getting even damper.

You laughed again at his desperation, and at the fact that he didn't even bother to cover himself with a towel. He walked out of the bathroom in his full naked glory, droplets of water sliding down his chest as he padded over to the room, mumbling something about having to get on the phone right now.

You couldn't have chosen better.

✦

a.n: i feel like this is so stupid... also, i didn't proof read, I'm sorry!

[vivimura]

headcanon - cuddles with boyfriend!riki ♡

PAIRING ~ sleepybf!nrk x menacegf!reader

SUMMARY ~ your boyfriend riki never lets you be the big spoon when cuddling and probably never will.

GENRE ~ fluuffff, disgustingly cute, playful argument.

WORD COUNT ~ 984

ᯓ★ i'm gonna die lonely this is so cute is it so much to ask for

with an exaggerated sigh of tiredness, you launched yourself to the comfort of your’s and riki's shared bed, squirming into the warm material of the black duvet covering it. you made grabby hands at him as an invitation for him to join.

riki fondly rolled his eyes at your actions, rather theatrics. he pulled his shirt off first, leaving his torso exposed before he climbed onto the bed and flopped on his side, on his designated side of the bed. he patted the space next to him. “come here,” he mumbled, his eyes already closed.

you huffed at his mannerisms and blatant laziness of making an effort to move, but enjoyed his cuddles too much to not roll your way closer to him, giggling as you did so.

with practiced movements, you pulled the duvet to cover both of your bodies, essentially blocking out the rest of the world.

as soon as your body was next to his, riki’s arms were around you. he pulled you in so your body was flush against his, your back pressed against his chest. his face buried into the crook of your neck, his breath fanning your skin once again as he settled down. 

he sighed deeply in contentment, completely relaxed now that you were with him again. “mine..”

you frowned at the sudden and disrespectfully forced spooning. you wriggled in place, tapping on his arms surrounding you in a manner undoubtedly annoying. “you never let me be the big spoon!”

riki smirked lazily as he held you tighter in place, basically molding your body to his. “and i’m not gonna,” he mumbled against your neck, his words slightly muffled. “i like holding you like this.. you’re so small..”

“rikiii..” you whined out his name quietly, yet in a pitch high enough to deliberately irritate him. you squirmed in place, attempting to turn around and be the one spooning him instead.

riki let out an amused scoff as you tried to push against him, your small hands attempting and failing to flip yourself over. “nuh-uh,” his arms were like iron as he held you against him, refusing to let you even budge. “stay..”

“this is so unfair..” you dramatized in a way that might make one believe it was the end of the world. you gave up trying to turn around, momentarily, deciding to dig your face into the pillow below your head, angrily grumbling into it.

his smirk turned into a full on grin as he listened to your muttered complaints.. riki found it so adorable, the way you had tried to push yourself over but ultimately failed— you just weren’t strong enough. 

you were just so adorable. he pulled you even closer to him, arms wrapped fully around your middle and chest against your back. he nuzzled his face against your hair, eyes closing again. “cutie..”

his little compliment only managed to irk you. here you were, trying to hold your boyfriend and lull him to sleep, and he was calling you cute? “just let me spoon you, ki!” you whined out, your attempts to sound intimidating only coming across as a child denied candy to him.

“no.” one of his legs slipped in between yours, pushing them apart as he tangled with them. “no spooning me.”

“well, why not?” you questioned, with a small pout.

“cause i’m holding you instead..” riki mumbled, rubbing his nose against your ear. “and i’m not letting you go..” one of his hands came to rest on your hip, his fingers lightly massaging your skin. “stay still.. and go to sleep..”

with a petulant ‘hmph!’, you began wriggling in place and trying to turn over yet again, his nonchalant replies and behavior rattling you to the point of utter stubbornness. “but i wanna hold you sometimes too..” you sulked and pouted at him, hoping he’d take pity and give in.

“baby.. please..” riki mumbled against your neck. “just give up and let me hold you..” he pulled you impossibly closer, his chest now completely pressed up against your back. you could feel his heartbeat against you— along with that damn growing grin against your skin. “we both know i’m stronger than you anyways..”

you gasped, almost offended by his statement. “not true! i’m just as strong, if not stronger!” you defended, your words a clear lie even to an idiot.

“it makes me feel small when you spoon me, i wanna be the one holding you for once, y’know..” you continued in a dramatically mellow voice, before he could get back at you for your obvious lie earlier.

another smirk formed on his lips, your tantrum continuing to show your defeat. “don’t care.” riki’s fingers trailed over your hip, occasionally stopping just to caress the curved skin. “besides.. i'm supposed to be the one protecting you..”

“no fair, i can protect you too.. i got my guns.” you asserted, flexing your non-existent biceps and throwing nearly laughable punches in the air as a display of your strength.

“i know you can.. my strong baby,” he teasingly mumbled, the smirk evident in his voice. “but i think i can protect you better..” he nuzzled his face against your head, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. “i'm stronger and there’s no changing that.. now go to sleep.. please.. i don't wanna listen to you complain anymore..” he continued, bringing the hand not on your hip to stroke your hair, knowing it always lulled you to sleep. a few seconds went by, and you were as silent and still as a rock.

"baby?" riki frowned at your sudden lack of irritating (and endearing) him, and peaked over your shoulder. he was met with the sight of you fast asleep.

he smiled like an idiot and shook his head fondly, admiring your rarely peaceful form for a good few minutes before giving into exhaustion himself, holding you tight in his arms all night long.

[girlyhornywriter]

You're still worried you're going to regret this?

Come on, pig. It's a little late for that, isn't it? You know there's no going back to how things used to be. Not now, after what you've done to yourself. Don't give me that look, you know this wasn't all my idea.

You just wouldn't stop begging to know about my fantasies... I didn't have any choice but to sate your curiosity and tell you that I liked bigger girls. Girls that jiggle when they walk and get out of breath when they walk up the stairs. You know, fat girls. You were so slim, and I didn't expect that you'd want to satisfy my kinks like that, but you said that you'd maybe gain a little weight for me, just so I could squeeze your belly while we made out. Nothing crazy, just an extra meal here and there. You'd keep it under control.

It's not my fault that your fat ass lost all self-control.

You were just having too much fun, weren't you? You loved feeling my hands caressing your soft, sensitive curves. The way I always slipped a hand under your top to give your gut a squeeze whenever I pulled you in for a kiss must have done more to your poor, horny brain than I could have ever imagined...

Well, of course I noticed what was happening, but did you expect me to say anything? You have no idea how much I loved watching you go back for seconds and thirds every time we went to a buffet. I couldn't get enough of hearing your sheepish voice asking if we had any ice-cream left in the freezer immediately after finishing an extra-large dinner. And maybe I didn't help your waistline by offering to drive you everywhere... But at your size back then, you'd have gotten so worn out and exhausted by having to walk more than a couple of blocks.

Not any more, though. Now you can't even make it to the end of the street.

Oh, you think I'm exaggerating? Babe, you haven't hauled your fat, lazy ass off of that couch in days. If it wasn't for the fact that I keep throwing away all your empty bags of snacks once you've poured them down your greedy throat, I'm pretty sure you'd be buried in them by now. Come on, just try to stand up.

...

Gosh, you really tried there, didn't you? There's no way you'd be panting and sweating like this if you hadn't been putting effort into that. I knew you'd become a fat mess, but I didn't realise it was this bad... You're all blubber and lard now, aren't you? Whatever muscle you had is so lost under layer upon layer of soft, jiggling flab that there's no way you're going to work off all these calories of adipose you've eaten onto your figure.

Well yeah, maybe a diet would work, but I'm not going to let you go on one, piglet.

Why? Because I've got you right where I've always wanted you, princess. You're too fat to move and too well-trained as a mindless, gluttonous cow to undo the damage you've done. I might not have made you gain all this weight, but I'm not about to see it melt away either. I love the way it feels too much, the way you jiggle with every movement, the way it pins you to the couch and only grows softer and heavier every time I feed you.

If I were you, piglet, I'd get used to this. Learn to enjoy it, because I certainly will... Maybe if you're a good girl for me, I'll find you some clothes that actually fit over your immense bulk. Though anything I find isn't going to fit you for very long - You're so big and obese, piggy, but you've still got a long way to go...

[rueclfer]

saturdays are for the blondes // fratboy smau part three

a/n: bakugou probs gives the bare fucking minimum as a frat boy like barely participates in the campaigns and rushes/recruitments and the only reason why he hasn't gotten booted yet is bc he's frat president kirishima's scary dog best friend and helps him make decisions lmao *written under cut*

denki kaminari, katsuki bakugou, hawks

"Embarrassing how much effort I put in for a man who doesn't even want me." You dramatically sigh as you gently tilt Katsuki's head back by his chin, and holding the opening of a chilled bottle of water up to his lips.

Walking out to see him alone under the dim buzzing light barely hanging onto to the roof and hunched over a bush with his palm pressed against the side of the frat house to hold himself up was a sad sight for you to see, but you couldn't help but enjoy the rare humiliation.

He scowls and swats your hand away, wiping his mouth against the back of his hand.

"The fuck are you talking about?" He coughs into the collar of his shirt.

"What? Am I wrong?" You press your lips together, suppressing a growing smile, and setting the empty bottle on the window ledge beside you

He rubs his temple in annoyance, clearly not near sober enough to have a conversation about his feelings. "Irritating as fuck is what you are."

With the noise of the party and thumping music leaking from inside of the house, you two were left alone by yourselves in the side yard with the occasional person or two stepping out for a smoke or to vomit.

"I'm just teasing, Kats." You chuckle, reaching up to rake your fingers through the sweaty strands of hair glued to his forehead. "It's not that serious."

"I told you not to come out here, didn't I?" He mumbles, closing his eyes and leaning his back against the wall.

"Well, Denki's occupied with the other brothers and I'm not going to leave you out here yacking in the bushes."

He remains silent for a moment, lazily intertwining his fingers with yours and swinging your hands from side to side.

"Dumbass." He murmurs under his breath. "Too nice for your own good."

"Trust me, I know." You roll your eyes. "Let's get you to your room? You look like you might drop any second." You attempt to wiggle your hand out of his iron grasp.

"It's too god damn loud in there." He groans "Stay here with me."

His flushed cheeks and swollen lips made his usual scowl falter into a perpetual pout, making your nerves twitch and it impossible to say no to him.

"You're not scared of anyone seeing us like this? Being so close? Me taking care of you?" You peer around for any sign of watching eyes.

"Like it matters. Everyone knows you're mine- or they should at least." He tightens his grip on your hand.

"Yeah? Prove it, then" You challenge, sparking a quirk of interest in his eyes.

A lazy smirk grows on his lips as he looks down at you through his lashes, scanning every corner of your face before he pulls you in against his chest and leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

"You wanna give everyone inside a show or some shit?" He mutters against your lips, peppering kisses in between every few words. "Give me 10 minutes with you out here and I can sober up real fuckin quick."

"That, or also," You wrap an arm around his torso, and the other slapping a hand over his mouth, pushing his face away. "you can ask me out on a date, dipshit."

He narrowed his eyes, furrowing his brows in the process.

"Nu uh. No fucking way. You don't want to go out with me."

"Yuh huh." You mock his drunken childish tone, keeping your hand clasped over his mouth. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I think I love you." He muffles behind your hand. "So that'll be a fucking wreck for both of us."

"Wha-"

He pulls your hand away from his mouth and cuts you off with his lips with more desperation and force as he pulls you closer to him by the back of your neck and grip around your waist.

An efficient way to shut you up.

"Don't remind me about that tomorrow, alright?" He mutters against your lips, knowing well that if there's one thing his mind will cling onto in this drunken state, it'll be this moment with you in the side yard where your cheeks are perfectly flushed from the alcohol and cold nice breeze, your hands all over him, and his heart racing as he admit to you and himself for the first time that he loves you.

[ruzz9]

In Bloom Within ~

Severus Snape x Pregnant!reader

Summary: In his obsessive urge to protect you, Severus has refrained from touching you for weeks. Now, in your seventh month of pregnancy, doubt coils in your chest, fearing that your physical changes no longer stir his appetite.

AN: I'm back! Been working on a Lucius smut but haven't finished it yet— Enjoy this

Warnings: Smut, Pregnancy, Body Worship, Eating Out, Tender, Emotional, Soft-Rough

3,1k words

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Sharing quarters at the castle with Severus Snape had once sounded like a temporary arrangement.

"Only while the war lasts," he had promised you, his voice rough, but his eyes full of an anxiety he made no effort to hide from you.

And you, with your growing belly and your almost childlike need to feel protected, hadn't had the will to argue much.

Now, Hogwarts had once again become your home. But the physical closeness you shared here hadn't brought the intimacy you had hoped for.

In truth, if you were honest with yourself, you couldn't even remember the last time Severus had truly touched you.

It had been weeks —too many— since his hands had roamed your body with the urgency you so desperately craved.

Though his gestures remained protective, attentive even, his eyes seemed to carefully avoid yours whenever your changing, prominently sensual curves intruded into his line of sight.

Despite being well into your third trimester, you clung to teaching classes as if they were a lifeline, while Severus —and half your colleagues— insisted, with growing impatience, that you should be dedicating your days solely to yourself and the baby. But you were stubborn. You had always been.

Now, wrapped in a silk robe that outlined every new inch of your body —the wider hips, the heavy breasts, the firm, rounded belly— you crossed the bedroom toward the bed, foolishly hoping, maybe, to catch his eye.

He didn’t lift his gaze.

Seated in his usual armchair, with a heavy tome on dark magic resting across his lap, Severus seemed utterly engrossed in his reading. His eyes barely moved. Your heart, tightened with every step you took. When had it become so hard just to get him to look at you?

On a painful, impulsive whim, you moved closer. From behind the chair, you tilted your head, and then you saw it.

Tucked between the open pages of the large book, Severus was hiding a smaller, much more modest volume. One that had nothing to do with dark magic. One filled with meticulous notes about protective charms for newborns. Safe potions during pregnancy.

And suddenly, the heavy knot in your chest twisted into something else entirely. You had to admit it was adorable, even as the bittersweet ache remained.

Leaning over the back of the armchair, you slipped your arms around him, brushing your nose along the line of his neck before pressing a warm kiss to his cheek.

Severus startled, slamming the heavy tome shut, the sound echoing sharply against the stone walls.

"You don't have to hide what you're really reading..." you whispered against his ear, offering him a small, trembling smile —something caught between tenderness and sadness.

He let out a huff, loaded with irritation. Not at you, never at you. Irritation at himself, perhaps. For letting himself be caught, for being so transparent with you.

Without a word, with a kind of reverent patience, he took your wrists in his long hands and gently drew you toward him.

Guiding you firmly, he settled you onto his lap, handling your weight as if you were made of glass.

The warmth of his body beneath yours, the unmistakable scent of him —it was home to you. And lately, you had felt it so painfully distant.

One of his hands, large, rough, and warm, instinctively came to rest on your swollen belly.

He began to caress it in slow circles, his thumb tracing lazy paths over the fine silk of your robe. "You should stop teaching already," he murmured, his voice low, rasping, almost defeated. "You should be thinking only of... the two of you."

It was so strange to hear him speak like that, without his usual armor. For a moment, you simply surrendered to the rhythm of his caress, to that rare, precious intimacy.

A sudden dampness on the silk caught his attention before it caught yours.

Severus frowned slightly —not in disgust, but in concentration— and brought his fingers to the small damp spot blooming over your chest.

He touched the wet fabric with an unusual gentleness, almost reverent, like someone handling something sacred they didn’t fully understand.

His fingers hovered there for a breathless moment, suspended between surprise and a raw, almost childlike curiosity.

It was then that you, trapped in the current of your own insecurities, shifted away from his lap.

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying somehow to shield yourself, and averted your gaze, refusing to meet his.

Before you could stop yourself, the words burst out, burning in your throat:

"I don't want to give you... another reason not to want me."

Your voice barely cracked, no louder than a whisper, yet it carried more weight than any scream.Your eyes filled with tears, though you stayed proud, rigid, as if it didn’t matter, as if you didn’t care.

You turned toward the bed, your steps almost defiant, your back stiff.

But Severus didn’t hesitate for a second.

He rose from his chair, the book forgotten, crossing the space between you in only a few long strides. His hand caught yours before you could climb into bed. It wasn’t a pull, just his fingers wrapping warmly, firmly around your wrist.

"Don't ever say that again," he murmured, his voice low, rough, filled with something that made you shiver to your bones.

He pulled you gently, turning you to face him. There was no rush, no forcefulness .Only his gaze, dark and intense, locking onto yours —and you felt stripped bare under it.

His hands slid upward, releasing your wrist to frame your face. He stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, brushing them tenderly, as if trying to wipe away the tears before they could fall.

"You are beautiful," he said, as if it were an undeniable, absolute truth.

The tenderness of his words, the restrained worship in his gaze, struck hard against the wall of insecurity you had built inside yourself.

Something within you cracked, dangerously close to breaking. Severus leaned in then, his forehead resting against yours, his warm breath mingling with your own.

"All of you," he whispered. "Every change, every new part of you... you have no idea how much I want you, how much I've fought it."

His nose brushed yours in a gesture so small, so intimate, your knees almost buckled.

His hands slid down, gliding over your arms, your fuller hips, and finally came to rest, reverently, over the generous curve of your belly.

He held you like that, breathing you in, as if every beat of your heart was the most precious thing he had ever known.

His hands, still firm on your hips, trembled ever so slightly as he lifted his gaze to you.

A moment of silence stretched between you, so thick you could almost hear your own heart pounding against it.

With meticulous slowness, his fingers sought the sash that held your silk robe closed.

He looked at you, asking permission without words.

And when you didn’t resist, he pulled the ribbon loose with a careful tug. The fabric parted, not fully, but enough to expose your torso, your full, heavy breasts.

The lingering trace of dampness still visible on one of them, the most intimate evidence of the life growing inside you.

Severus let out a low sound, something between a sigh and a groan. It wasn't unchecked lust. It was wonder. Pure fascination.

His hands, warm and rough, traveled slowly upward, caressing your shoulders, your arms —every new, sensitive inch of your skin.

He paused at the curve of your neck, the line of your collarbones, as if he were committing every part of you to memory.

He leaned in then, brushing you with his lips —not urgent kisses, but patient touches.

A kiss in the hollow of your throat.

Another on the sharp bone of your shoulder.

Another, trembling slightly, just above one of your breasts.

"You are perfect," he murmured against your skin, his voice heavy with a reverence that made your lungs seize.

His fingers ventured lower, tracing the line beneath your breasts with no hurry, like a man cradling something too precious to risk harming.

Everything in him screamed desire, but also something deeper —adoration.

You felt precious. For the first time in weeks.

His large, steady hands continued gliding over you, exploring the new fullness of your body without rush, without judgment.

His thumbs brushed along the sides of your breasts, then down to the generous curve of your belly, massaging in slow, wide circles —as if he wanted to soothe your child even as he worshiped you.

His mouth followed the path his hands had traced earlier, his nose nuzzling the lush swell of your breast.

With inhuman patience, Severus tilted his head and pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the damp skin of your breast. The heat of his mouth against you contrasted sharply with the cool silk still clinging to your hips, and a trembling sigh escaped your lips before you could hold it back.

He took your nipple into his mouth, closing his lips around it with wet, reverent warmth. You gasped softly, your fingers tangling in his messy hair, holding on to him.

Severus growled low in his throat, a sound almost primal, at feeling you respond so openly under his touch.

He straightened just enough to meet your eyes, his lips shining slightly, his breath ragged.

With patient hands, he slid the rest of the robe off your body, letting it pool at your feet.

He looked at you then, standing naked before him —your belly full with life, your breasts heavy, your skin taut and achingly sensitive.

And instead of averting his gaze, Severus devoured you with it —every new curve, every mark, every part of you that now existed to carry the miracle of his child.

With a firm gesture, he took your hands, placed them on his shoulders, and then lifted you easily, as if you weighed nothing at all, laying you down with infinite gentleness on the bed.

He leaned over you, sliding naturally between your legs, resting his weight carefully to your side.

His hands never stopped moving —caressing your belly, your sides, your thighs— as if he couldn’t decide where to start, as if he needed to map every part of you anew.

And his mouth...

His mouth returned to your skin, planting open, wet, hungry kisses along your breasts, your stomach, the edges of your hips.

His lips traveled even lower, leaving a wet trail down the lower curve of your belly.

His hands slid to your thighs, parting them with firm but careful insistence —not rough, not demanding— simply inevitable, as if he had waited too long to dare touch you.

His breath washed over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and a fragile, trembling moan tore from your throat.

Severus didn’t rush.

Instead of devouring you hungrily, he looked up at you, his black eyes gleaming under the messy curtain of his hair.

Waiting. Asking without words.

You, trembling, lifted a hand to his cheek, caressing the roughness of his skin. It was all the answer he needed.

With a reverence almost religious, he lowered his mouth to you. His tongue slid first, soft and slow, between your swollen folds, exploring you, savoring you.

You arched your back, a high, broken moan shattering the stillness of the bedroom.

Severus growled low against you, the vibration rumbling through your flesh, and he gripped your thighs firmly, holding you open while he lazily circled your clit with devastating patience.

His movements were constant, meticulous, designed to consume you slowly, to show you —without needing a single word— how much he wanted you, how much he worshiped you in every phase, through every change.

He kissed you there as he had kissed your belly, your breasts —with hunger, but also with tenderness.

There was no rush. There was no need for anything except you. You in his mouth, you in his hands.

When your hips began moving against his mouth, when your moans became uncontrollable, Severus slipped two fingers inside you with exquisite care, slow and steady, filling you gradually as his tongue kept dancing over you.

Your body, so sensitive, so alive, responded with violent sweetness.

The orgasm overtook you without warning, without permission, ripping broken cries from your throat that barely sounded like your own.

Your hands clutched at his hair, his shoulders, anything you could reach, as if afraid you might fall apart without him anchoring you.

And Severus didn’t move away.

He kept licking, kissing, holding you through the shudders of your climax, only lifting his head when you finally lay trembling beneath him, soft moans slipping from your lips, shattered and adored beyond words.

Only then did he lift his face to you.

His face was undone with desire.

He slid over you slowly, propping himself up on his elbows so as not to crush you, adjusting his body alongside yours so as not to put pressure on your belly, yet still maintaining the desperate closeness you both craved.

His erection, hard and throbbing, brushed your thigh as he settled in, trembling slightly at the contact.

But he waited.

He left the last word to you.

"May I...?" he whispered, hoarse, his voice almost breaking with restraint.

You nodded, lifting a hand to stroke his chest —a small gesture of tenderness, trust, longing.

Severus exhaled sharply, as if you had torn the weight of the world from his shoulders, and wrapped you in his arms.

He shifted to his side, pulling your back against his chest, guiding you until your thigh rested over his hip, opening you to him with infinite care.

His hand trembled slightly as he lowered it between you, guiding himself, searching for the heat he had missed so desperately.

When he found you—wet, soft, waiting—he let out a low, ragged groan. A sound that vibrated through your skin even before he began.

He entered you slowly. So slowly.

As if he couldn’t believe he truly had you like this: open for him, in this state.

You felt every inch of his hardness pressing into you, every fiber of your body stretching to receive him.

Your belly tightening softly, your chest heaving, a broken sob escaping your throat before you could even recognize it.

He paused for a fraction of a second, buried fully inside you, gasping into your ear. The heat of his breath, the tremble of his muscles, everything enveloped you, claimed you.

And then he began to move.

At first, his thrusts were long, deep, calculated.

You felt so full of him, invaded in the sweetest, heaviest way, as if your body had been made only for him.

But it didn’t take long for his control to unravel.

The hunger he had bottled up for weeks, that passion he had repressed out of fear of hurting you, slipped to the surface.

His rhythm grew more insistent, less perfect, more human.

His large hand cradled your belly, as if to remind himself of your fragility... but his hips couldn't help but quicken, slamming against you with a need barely held in check.

"Merlin..." he murmured against your ear, his voice raw, lost. "I missed you."

The low rumble of his voice, vibrating through you, almost made you cry.

You felt ablaze.

Every friction of his body within yours stoked hidden embers inside you, each movement of his pelvis against your rear sending electric waves up your spine.

The heat between your legs was unbearable, slippery, overflowing, each of Severus' thrusts tearing moans from you you no longer tried to contain.

The sensation of his hot, hard flesh sliding against your walls, filling you with every push, was overwhelming.

The pressure inside you built and built, a cruel promise holding you suspended between pleasure and desperation.

Severus seemed desperate not to let you go.

He clutched you against him, his hand alternating between your belly, your thigh, drawing you harder against him, setting a rhythm he could no longer pretend to control.

He fucked you in long, heavy strokes, each thrust dragging a moan from your lips.

Didn't give you space to think or breathe. Only to feel.

"So fucking beautiful..." he rasped into your ear, his hand sliding to cup your heavy breast, his thumb teasing the sensitive, leaking nipple. "Mine. Every part of you..."

You whimpered at the rough squeeze, at the obscene wetness slicking your thighs, at the pressure building unbearably inside you.

Your name fell from his lips like a prayer as his pelvis slammed into you in erratic, deeper thrusts.

His hand found your throat, not choking, just holding —a possessive, grounding weight that had you keening his name.

You surrendered to the brutal, sweet rhythm of his hips, to the relentless glide of his hot flesh, to the torrent of emotions and sensations that drowned you.

Your body spasmed around him, heat bursting through your core as the orgasm tore you apart. You screamed with pleasure as you came, tears streaming from your tightly shut eyes, your legs trembling uncontrollably.

You felt his body convulse behind you just seconds later, a guttural growl tearing from his throat as he spilled inside you, clutching you with all the desperate love he could offer.

And even after emptying himself, even after groaning your name against your sweaty skin, he didn’t pull away.

He held you tighter.

He covered you with his body as if he could shield you from everything.

As you both trembled, trapped in that moment, Severus kissed the back of your neck—once, twice, a thousand times—murmuring words you could barely hear.

Eventually, as your breathing slowed and the tremors faded from your limbs, Severus shifted just enough to see your face.

He brushed a damp strand of hair from your forehead with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

"You are everything," he whispered, the words breaking against your skin.

You turned your head slightly, finding his mouth in the softest of kisses, one that tasted of salt and love and everything you had both survived to reach this moment.

Held tightly against him, you let yourself fall—completely, irrevocably—into the arms of the only man who had ever truly seen you.

And he never once let you go.

[writing-the-stars]

Bambi's Game

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader, Nancy x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Summary: Shy and careful, you’ve never been the type of girl who stands out — until Billy Hargrove, the cocky heartbreaker of Hawkins High, notices you. After a fleeting encounter at a party, his obsession with you becomes personal, and suddenly you’re caught in a dangerous game of push and pull.

Warnings: Angst (But I feel like it's actually barely there), Mature Language, Cliché, Flirtation and Sexual Tension (It's Billy Hargrove, Duh), Self-Doubt and Identity Struggles, Slow-Burn. Let Me Know If I Forgot Anything

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: I like my men with a taste of danger and I am such a bad boy apologist, so I'm super excited about this Billy fic. It is very cliché, but I like that. Things are cliché for a reason. Anyway, thank you so much for reading. I hope you all and enjoy and that you have a wonderful remainder of your day.

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

Part Two: You Didn’t Say No

 You shouldn’t be here.

That much is obvious by the way you’re cowering by the back wall of Tina’s party, clinging to your Red Solo for dear life. You’ve been slowly sipping the sugary drink ever since you got here — the ice has long since melted, leaving it flat and watery — but it’s your only shield against the pressure to drink something stronger. It’s not that you don’t drink — you’ve definitely had your fair share of wine coolers — but tonight isn’t the night to lose control. Not here. Not with these people. 

You hate parties like this. They’re loud, messy, and filled with people you don’t know or don’t care to know. You’re always just… there. No one really notices you. No one really cares.

A Blondie song pulses through the speakers — synthy and loud enough to drown out your thoughts. The air is thick with a sickly mix of beer, sweat, and cigarette smoke that clings to your clothes and makes your nose wrinkle.

You definitely were not meant to be here.

You had only come for Nancy because you do whatever she asks of you. Ever since Barb’s disappearance, she’s been clinging to pieces of her old life, trying to stitch something familiar out of whatever is left. You’re one of those pieces.

So when she asked — guilted really — you to tag along, you couldn’t deny her. She swore you’d only stay an hour. Tops. But now she’s vanished into the crowd with Steve and taken the car keys with her. Your ride is gone, your buffer is gone, and you’re honestly tempted to just say fuck it and walk home. 

You’ve held up your end of the bargain.

You swallow the rest of your pathetic soda, about to leave when he walks in.

Billy Hargrove.

The name alone makes your stomach flip. You can feel the temperature shift in the room. Everyone just… moves aside for him. Makes space. Even the loudest parts of the party seem to quiet down when he enters, like everyone can sense the chaos he brings with him.

Shirt unbuttoned halfway like it’s his party. Cigarette tucked behind his left ear, rings glinting on his fingers. He moves like he owns the room — like he owns everything. Eyes scanning the crowd, slow and lazy, like he’s hunting. And then those blue eyes find you. 

You freeze. 

Your first instinct is to look away and your neck twinges with the effort. But it’s too late. He’s seen you.

You felt it. The moment his attention clicked into place — hot and heavy. A smirk already curling at the edge of his mouth.

You know that smirk. You’ve seen it on him enough times to know it means trouble.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, panic threading through your chest. Your heart kicks into high gear. You shouldn’t have come. You knew he’d be here. Why did you let Nancy talk you into this?

You swallow hard, trying to make your legs move. You should just walk away, get out of his sight. Disappear into the crowd. But his presence is closing in on you​​, looming, like a shadow falling over everything.

“Hey, Bambi,” he drawls, voice smooth and slow, soaked in confidence. “Looks like someone wandered into the wrong forest.”

​​There’s something about it — like someone dragging velvet across bare skin. Something dangerous underneath all that ease. You feel your cheeks burn, the nickname already settling deep inside you.

You turn — because you have to — and there he is. Hawkins High’s resident heartbreaker. Beautiful. Arrogant. Bored.

“And you must be the wolf that thinks he’s charming,” you shoot back before you can think better of it.

Crap. Why did you say that?

You barely recognize your own voice. It comes out sharper than you intended, like you’re trying to hide behind something. You want to shrivel up. But Billy laughs — actually laughs — a low sound, amused, like you’ve surprised him. And it makes your pulse race. You weren’t expecting that. 

“Oh, I like you.” He says it slowly, like he’s savoring the words. His eyes roam, but not in the gross, lecherous way most guys do. It’s focused. Intense. Like he’s really seeing you. 

The thought causes your heart to hammer in your chest. 

“What’s your name again?”

You stare at him, unimpressed. He should know your name. You have two classes together. You’ve shared a lunch table, sat behind him at assemblies, stood near him at the lockers. He should definitely know your name, but of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

You exist in the periphery of his world, and he’s never once noticed.

You mutter your name, quick and low, but he catches it anyway. He repeats it, like he’s trying it on his tongue. Like he wants to remember how it sounds in his mouth. It sends a strange chill down your spine. He makes your name sound different. Like he’s taking possession of it, somehow.

 Then, he dismisses it, saying “I think I like Bambi better.”

You roll your eyes, but feel your stomach do a humiliating flip. And you hate that. Hate that his stupid, cocky grin — the one he uses to get cheerleaders in his backseat and girls to come completely undone — actually works. You despise it. 

Because of course it does. Billy Hargrove is beautiful in that reckless kind of way. He’s sharp and dangerous. Pretty in the way fire is as it eats through the world. The kind of boy your mom warned you about.

And for just a moment, you wonder what it would feel like to let yourself fall into that gaze. To stop analyzing and second-guessing and controlling everything. To just melt into the attention he’s offering so freely.

But you know better.

Billy doesn’t see girls like you — not really. He flirts. He conquers. He forgets.

You’ve seen him do it a hundred times. You’ve heard the way he talks about girls like they’re trophies, disposable. You don’t want to be another notch on his belt. You don’t want to be a story he tells later.

So you do the only thing that feels like control.

You walk away.

Your heart pounds like crazy, hands shaking a little as you put your cup down and grab your jacket from the nearby couch. You don’t look back. You don’t give him the satisfaction. 

But if you did?

You’d see Billy watching you, eyebrows raised, lips parted in disbelief.

No one denies Billy Hargrove.

Except you just did.

And now?

He’s interested. 

-*-

You and Nancy walk shoulder to shoulder down the hallway, her voice humming in your ear as she talks about something — probably her lit essay — but you’re not really listening. You nod when appropriate, offer the occasional “Mm-hmm”, but your mind keeps wandering back to Friday night,  the memory of it simmering uncomfortably beneath your skin. You’ve replayed it a dozen times in your head — the way his voice dipped when he said your name, the way his eyes dragged across you like he was seeing something he wasn’t supposed to.

It didn’t mean anything. You know that.

Billy Hargrove flirts with anything in a skirt. You’ve watched him wrap girls around his finger like it’s no big deal — because to him, it isn’t. You're not special. You're just new.

And yet…

It felt like something.

You shake the thought off, telling yourself to stop being ridiculous. Yet, you find your eyes wandering, scanning the crowd for the denim-clad devil. Not that you're necessarily looking for him.

You're just… making sure he’s not around.

You round the corner, Nancy still talking at your side, when you see him, leaning against a row of lockers. Your row of lockers.

You freeze for half a second. Your stomach flips.

He’s standing in your space, boots crossed like he’s been waiting on you, and for one crazy second, you think maybe he has.

That thought sends a surge of panic down your spine, and you immediately try to steer Nancy the other way, subtly tugging her sleeve and veering left. But it’s too late. He spots you. 

“Hey Bambi.”

That voice. That lazy drawl, so smooth, so sure of itself, like he already knows how this is going to play out. And then, that nickname… Bambi. It slithers down your spine like warm honey, and you hate that it still makes you shiver.

Nancy falters beside you, her voice higher than normal.  “…Did he just call you Bambi?”

You groan under your breath and pick up your pace, hoping if you ignore him, he’ll get bored.

He doesn’t.

Billy peels away from the lockers as if gravity has no claim to him. He moves with that effortless confidence, like everything he does is deliberate. And for some reason, that makes your insides twist even more.

“What, you’re not gonna say hi? That’s rude, sweetheart.”

You bite your lip, desperately trying to push the heat from your cheeks. Your heart’s racing. Nancy’s head whips toward you. “Sweetheart?” she repeats, the incredulity in her voice making your stomach churn.

You’re actively dying. Right here. In the middle of the hallway. 

“I don’t… I don’t know,” you mumble quickly, hoping that if you downplay it, she’ll drop the topic. But of course, she doesn’t.

“Since when do you talk to Billy Hargrove?” she asks, whisper-shouting. “What happened at Tina’s party? You said it was boring!”

“It was!”

You say it too quickly. Too defensively. Nancy catches it immediately.

Billy’s matching your stride effortlessly, like you belong beside him. Like this is something you’ve been doing all along. Something you’ve shared. Your stomach does that awful flip again, that stupid mix of dread and something that feels a little too close to anticipation.

“Aw, come on. Don’t be shy now,” he teases, his voice dipped in that fake innocence you can’t quite buy. “I thought we had a moment.”

You roll your eyes, trying to keep your composure. “You also think sporting denim makes you look like a member of The Outsiders,” you quip. 

Nancy gasps softly, eyes wide. Her hand flies to her mouth as if she’s just witnessed a catastrophe. “Oh my God.” 

Billy grins like you just kissed him.But it’s not just the grin. It’s the way he looks at you now, like you’ve caught his attention in a way no one else has. He leans in a little, his eyes gleaming with approval. “Feisty,” he says, voice low and hungry, like he’s enjoying this far too much.

Your stomach turns over in that weird way it always does when he’s close. It’s not just embarrassment anymore. It’s… something else. Something unfamiliar and unsettling.

Why does he like that you talk back? Why isn’t he brushing you off already, moving on to someone easier? Someone with more makeup and less hesitation? Someone who wants this.

You stop abruptly at your locker, spinning the dial with more force than necessary. You focus on the numbers, trying to keep yourself grounded, trying to ignore the way your heart is still pounding. Nancy is practically vibrating beside you, her eyes wide with questions she won’t let go of. You can feel her eyes drilling into the side of your face, waiting for the answers you don’t have.

You don’t know what’s happening. But somehow, you feel like Billy knows exactly what’s happening. And you can’t make sense of it.

“Seriously,” she whispers. “What is happening?”

You glare at her. “Nothing. He’s messing with me.”

You don’t let yourself look at Billy, even though you know he’s still standing right there. Watching you.

“You wound me, Bambi. And here I thought we were building something real.”

You slam your locker shut and grab your books like armor. This has to end.

“We’re going to class. Now.”

You tug Nancy by the wrist, trying to escape whatever weird flirtation-parade this is. 

You shouldn’t look back. You know that.

But you do. Just once.

And there he is — still standing where you left him, watching you go. Smirking. But it’s different this time.

He’s not amused.

He’s not smug.

He’s interested.

-*-

You’re barely two steps into the restroom after class before Nancy swings the door shut behind you with a bang.

"Okay," she says, folding her arms, giving you the look. "What was that?"

You blink at her in the mirror, trying to feign innocence. "What was what?"

She doesn’t dignify that with a response — just arches an eyebrow and purses her lips, waiting for you to cut the crap. 

You sigh and turn to face her fully. "I don’t know. Nothing."

Which is a lie. A big one. And you're both aware of it.

Nancy steps closer. Her voice lowers a notch, teasing but edged. "He called you Bambi. Twice.”

You roll your eyes. "He calls everyone something. It’s just a stupid nickname."

“Yeah,” Nancy says, narrowing her eyes. “But you didn’t hate it.”

Your face burns instantly. Mortified. You want to deny it, but it’s too late. Your reaction says it all.

"I did hate it," you stammer.

"You blushed."

“I did not!” You hope your protest sounds convincing, but it’s a weak defense. And she’s not buying it.

Nancy smirks. “You did. Right here.” She taps your cheek lightly, like a detective closing in on her suspect.

And she’s right. You both know it. You did like it. Much to your chagrin. You liked the way he said it — like he named you. Like you were something he was claiming, or maybe just starting to notice. Something worth paying attention to.

And that — that’s the part that really messes with your head.

Because it’s not just about Billy Hargrove looking at you. It’s about what that look made you feel. What it stirred up inside of you. The thing you never thought would happen.

That someone like him could want someone like you.

You can still feel the heat in your cheeks, the flutter in your chest. It is aggravating. 

"And don’t even get me started on the way he looked at you." Nancy’s voice is a little too delighted now. "Like he found a new toy he wasn’t allowed to touch."

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Please don’t analyze this.”

"I mean, he was flirting with you. Billy freakin’ Hargrove. Actual cigarette mascot and heartbreaker-in-chief. And you held your ground." 

Nancy pauses, eyes thoughtful now instead of teasing. “You were kind of badass, actually.”

You peek at her through your fingers, caught off guard. “Really?”

She shrugs, leaning a hip against the sink. “Look, he’s still the worst. But that whole scene? Total power move.”

Power move. The idea is almost laughable. You were barely holding it together. Your heart had been trying to pound its way out of your chest the whole time. You’d thought you were going to pass out in front of everyone. And Billy…

Billy looked like he was enjoying himself. Like he could see straight through you — through the panic, the denial, the blush. Like he was testing you, to see how long you'd last. To see just how much you’d take before you crumbled.

You lower your hands. "I wasn’t trying to pull a power move. I was just trying not to have a panic attack."

Nancy smiles, softening. "Well, for what it’s worth, I think you might’ve fried his brain."

You snort, trying to suppress the warmth flooding your chest. "Good. Maybe it’ll stop him from bothering me again."

Nancy nudges your arm lightly, the grin on her face a little too knowing. "You want him to bother you again."

You freeze. 

Do you?

It shouldn’t even be a question. He’s every bad decision wrapped in denim and cigarette smoke. He’s cocky, reckless, way too used to girls melting at his feet. You’re not supposed to want him. You’re supposed to be smarter than that. You are smarter than that. Right?

The heat of his body just inches from yours. The way his voice curled around your name, like he was trying it out, seeing how it felt in his mouth. The look in his eyes — hungry and amused, like you were a puzzle he hadn’t solved yet.

And for a split second, it didn’t feel like a threat. It felt like attention. Focused and sharp and entirely on you. It made your skin prickle. Made your breath hitch. Made you feel seen. And not in a way you’re used to.

But you don’t say that. You can’t.

Instead, you shake your head, trying to force the thoughts out. "He’s just another guy who thinks he can have anything he wants."

"And you told him no," Nancy says, her tone matter-of-fact. “That’s kind of rad.”

You glance at your reflection in the mirror. Your face is still flushed. Your heart is still racing. And somewhere under all the nerves and confusion… you feel something else.

Pride.

Maybe a tiny bit dangerous.

You’ve never felt dangerous before. But maybe… maybe you could get used to it.

Nancy nudges your arm again, grinning, a little too smug now. "C’mon, badass. We’re late for chem."

-*-

The house is still. Your room is quiet. The window’s cracked open just enough to let the cool night breeze in, soft against your skin.

It’s late — not too late — but the house is quiet in that specific way it only gets after dinner dishes are done and your mom and sister retreat to their separate corners of the house.

Echo and The Bunnymen’s The Killing Moon plays softly on your Walkman, the melancholy synths bleeding into the air like a soundtrack to your thoughts. You’re sitting cross-legged on your bed, a worn notebook open in your lap, pen tapping against the edge of the page like it’s supposed to summon brilliance.

But it’s been ten minutes, and you’re stuck on the same equation.

You sigh, dropping your pencil and pushing the notebook out of your lap.

Your eyes wander toward the window. It’s dark outside, that quiet, empty blackness that makes Hawkins feel smaller than usual. As though the night could swallow it all up — like there’s nothing beyond the trees but more darkness.

You should be thinking about valence electrons. You should be focused, responsible, anything but this.

But your brain — traitorous thing that it is — keeps drifting back to him.

Billy Hargrove.

Your pulse stutters at the thought, like a glitch in your otherwise orderly brain.

You’re not used to being the center of anyone’s attention, let alone someone like him. No one ever looks at you like that. Not the way Nancy gets looked at. Or Carol. Or Tina.They have something you’ve never had: an edge.

You’ve always been soft-spoken. Careful. The kind of girl people overlook until they need help with their notes. So why did he notice you?

And why can’t you stop wondering what it means?

The nickname. The look in his eyes when they dragged over you, like he could see through the walls you’ve spent years building around yourself. The way he smirked when you walked away — not like he’d won, but like he’s waiting. Like he’s expecting to see you again.

You exhale slowly, closing your eyes to shut out the images, but they only get stronger. 

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That it shouldn’t. That he’s just another guy with too much swagger and not enough sense. That you’ve seen his type before and you’re not interested.

But your body betrays you. Your pulse picks up, heart beating faster. There’s something deep inside you, a pull, an undeniable tug that you can’t ignore.

You press your fingers to your cheeks, still warm from the memory of his gaze.

Still remembering.

You shake your head like it’ll help — like you can shake away the way his eyes made you feel. You’re not going to be one of those girls. The kind who fall for trouble just because it calls their name. You refuse to be that cliché.

Even if deep down, a reckless, traitorous part of you already is.

You don’t know what this thing with Billy is. You don’t even know if it is a thing.

But you feel it. You can’t escape it. You feel it buzzing under your skin like electricity.

And for the first time in a long while, you feel seen.

Even if it’s by the wrong person.

If you want to be a part of my tag list, please submit an ask specifying series, fandom, or all and I will happily add you (If you don’t specify, I’ll just assume you want to be on the general list)!

[mdsbabygirl]

Sex with Nagi Seishiro

Pairing: Nagi Seishiro x FEM!reader

Genre: Smut

Wc: 797

Cw: use of pet names, very lazy Nagi, shafting, cowgirl, fingering, eating out, cockwarming, mentions of Doggystyle, a bit of biting idk ... NOT PROOFREAD

Notes: as usual this is rushed, but I really wanted to write some smut so here it is loveys... Once I'm done w exams I hope I'll start writing some longer fics, and also draw some fanfics of our lovely men idk...

Sex with an extremely lazy Nagi would most likely revolve around finding the most effortless and enjoyable ways for the both of you to get what you want. He would likely prefer positions that minimize movement and maximize relaxation. For instance, I think the spooning position would be one his favs. Like, just imagine laying on your sides facing the same direction, as Seishiro gently thrusts inside you from behind. This position would be ideal as it allows for intimate, slow, and sensual lovemaking without needing him to make great efforts.

I think he'd also pepper kisses on your neck, inhaling your sweet scent as he softly bites your supple skin, when you clench too hard on him, "ungh..Angel, not too tight.. ha.. don't wanna cum yet"

Another one of his fav positions would be cowgirl. Our lazy Nagi would just lay on his back, stay cozy on your soft bed, while you move up and down in his big cock, your sensual and precise movements making him feel heavenly. He wouldn't just like this position for the comfort and the pleasure, but also because he enjoys seeing his pretty gf getting off on his dick, looking super pretty for him as her boobs bounce and her mouth is wide open to let out all those sweet moans he so much loves to hear.

"Ahh.. yes just like that, yes.. oh fuck.. you're so damn pretty!" He'd gently murmur as he looks intently at you, savoring both the immense pleasure you're giving him and your beauty.

Another potential scenario could involve Seishiro using his tongue to great effect, as this requires little to no movement on his part. He may opt for extended oral sessions, taking his time to explore every inch of your wet throbbing cunt with his lips and tongue, savoring each taste and texture. He'd also involve some fingering if he's feeling extra, using those long thick digits to great use.

He'd gently insert one finger at a time, making sure your pussy adjusts to their size before adding another. His fingers would go at a slow pace at first, taking his time to savour the way your body reacts to him. Then once he feels you got a bit more used to his ministrations, his digits would delve deeper, sliding in the depths of your warm wetness.

He massages your inner walls with deliberate strokes, pushing in and curling his fingers, eventually finding your g-spot with ease. He circles it gently, making you see Stars.

When it comes to climax, Nagi may not want to expend any extra energy. In this case, the "shafting" technique, would work best. He'd penetrate you from behind, his hard cock pushing past your slick folds and filling you up so perfectly, so that, then he lets you rub your puffy clit to orgasm. Sometimes you'd ask him to do it, and with a little sight he obliges, because you're his sweet loving gf and he's more than willing to make a little more effort to please you ... But tbh, I feel like he'd get bored quickly so instead he just starts pounding you, holding you by the waist and moving you on his dick like some kind of Fleshlight, until the both of you cum.

In addition to being as lazy as a sloth, Nagi is an avid gamer. Which means that it's unlikely he'll stop gaming if you're horny.. sorry 😔.. BUT.. BUT, he would tell you that you're more than welcome to sit on him, and cockwarm him while he's playing.. which is why, most of your intimate moments are just some long cockwarming sessions that end up in you riding him or using your vibrator while still moving on his dick ....

Omg wait... Nagi does enjoy using toys.. heck yeah he does, he finds them entertaining. But not just any toys, the ones that are remote controlled like vibrators and whatnot. Now hear me out, what if Nagi asked you to play a game w him, and he told you the loser had to endure some kind of punishment... Hehe, punishment..

So you lose eventually, and then he pulls out a little purple vibrator and proceeds to pleasure you with it until overstimulation.. and he doesn't stop there, no no no ... He does not, he'll pull his large hardness and proceed to fuck you as he keeps overstimulating you, making you squirm, shake and moan his nane like a prayer. You'd beg him to stop, ask him for a moment of rest with teary pleading eyes, but he wouldn't stop, insisting that losers get their punishment no matter what.

"You lost Angel! Maybe next you'll learn to play better!"

Pov: me who loses on purpose just to get pounded by him...

© mdsbabygirl do not copy or translate my work without my permission.

[rosenclaws]

Can you please write insecure!oldman!Logan? He is embarrased and sad because he can’t do things he could with you when he was younger, you can’t have sex easily and he can’t run and stuff, you can do whatever you want with the idea 💗🫶🫶

Warnings: MINORS DNI, Smut, blow job, showering together, insecure Logan, angry Logan, mentions of blood.

wc: 1.5k

a/n: Yes sorry this took so long I had a lot of valentines stuff + just my daily life going on lmao. This is a little shorter because I'm not really feeling my smut writing rn idk why but I hope you enjoy it anyways.

Logan had always been a strong man. Always. Emotionally and Physically. In his prime he had super human abilities, his strength, his speed, his agility. He was an absolute monster on the battle field. Nothing and no one could stop him and boy did they try. He was the Wolverine, the X-Man. And now...now he's just a shell.

Logan traces his jaw as he roughly drags the razor along the side of his face. He grunts as he nicks himself again, his hand shakes as he tries to cut trim away the scruff but he just can't get his hand to steady. In a fit of frustration he slams the razor down onto the countertop. Crushing the poor appliance to pieces.

"Logan!?" He hears you call from the bedroom. Your voice drenched in worry.

"I'm fine!" He yells back.

The last thing he wants is for you to come wandering in the bathroom while he's like this. Bitter and angry. The man in the mirror is a far cry from the man he once was. His once dark hair was now old and greying. A rough beard had grown on his face, half due to laziness making him look much older. Wrinkles are everywhere, proving to anyone that looked at him that he was just an old man.

Under his shirt were scars and bruises. He never used to scar. His body was fit, he was muscled and for lack of a better term. Absolutely ripped. Sure he still has his muscles but his chest was littered with bullet scars and ugly tearing from the fights he's tried so desperately to shield you from.

You say you love him, he wants to believe it. But how could someone like you ever truly love a man like Logan. A man who has shed a river of blood and killed more than he can even remember. How does the world decide that now, after everything, he gets to come home to a sweet thing like you. A big smile and a warm heart waiting for him at the end of the day.

How could you want a man who can barely keep up with you. You're younger than him. To be fair pretty much everyone is younger than Logan. But physically, you go for runs in the morning, you dance around the living room, you're just so full of energy. A bright star in the sea of darkness and Logan, well he is the darkness. He's sore and tired and angry. The world does not shine for him anymore.

He can't go out with you, treat you the way you deserve to be treated. He can't take you dancing or go on a walk in the park. All he does is come home and sit on the couch. His joints creaking as it takes all his effort to even get comfortable. He sees you watch those romance movies with a longing in your eyes. It's a cold bitter pill for Logan to swallow but the truth is, he's just too worn down for you. You deserve more than what he can give you.

He looks around, its a small bathroom. It's a small house. He took every extra penny he could get in order to buy this little cabin. It took weeks to renovate it too. But Logan wanted to give you a place to life, to be safe. Maybe he can leave the house to you. He's so deep in his own head that he doesn't hear the door open. He jumps when he feels your hands on his chest.

"Logan what's wrong?" Your voice is soft as you gently cup his face, pulling him from whatever spiral he was sending himself through.

"Nothing. I need to shower." He grunts out, tilting his head to get out of your grip. You frown as he sheds his shirt and turns on the shower. You admire his back as he starts to unbuckle his pants.

"Can I join you?" You ask sweetly as you grab the bottom of your shirt and lift it up.

Logan turns around to deny you but the moment he lays eyes on you any words fail. You smirk as you slowly undress yourself, Logan watching you the whole time. You slip past him and stand under the hot water, letting it run down your body. You hold your hand out to Logan as to silently say, come join me. Logan kicks his pants off and joins you under the water. Groaning as the hot water hits his aching muscles.

"What happened?" Your brows furrow as you see the blood drip down his chin.

"Nicked myself with a razor." He mumbles, his eyes closing as you start to rub your hands on his shoulders.

"That's okay, it happens." You cup your hand to let some water pool and then use it to clean his face.

"You're too sweet on an old man like me baby." He whispers, his insecurities coming to light as he feels a sense of guilt coming over him. Guilt that you're even here with him in the shower, helping an old man like him wash his body.

"Oh hush you idiot." You lather body wash in your hands and start to wash his arms and chest.

"I'm serious baby, just look at me." He gestures lamely to himself. One of his hands coming to cup your chin.

"I can't keep up with the guys your age. I can't..." He sighs, his rough hands grab your waist and gently push you against the wall.

"I can't please you the way someone like you should be pleased." He admits. It's embarrassing to say but he knows it's true.

Maybe in another life, had you had met when he was younger things would be different. But he can't fuck the way he used to. 20 Years ago he could pick you up like nothing and tear you apart like it was nothing. But now, now he has to go slow and he can only last a round, maybe two.

"Shut up," You press your finger to his lips and he rolls his eyes.

"My turn to talk." Logan watches as you slowly sink to your knees.

"You think I don't know you're old? You wear dollar store reading glasses and say your knees hurt when it rains." He opens his mouth to complain but you shut him up by grabbing his cock in your hands. Your soapy warm hands are like heaven.

"I'm not some stupid kid Logan," He's acting like he's the big bad wolf who's hiding some terrible secret from you. You love Logan, all parts of him and you'll be dammed if you let him get in his own head and destroy the life you have now.

"I can make my own decisions and right now, I want to suck my boyfriends cock." Logan grabs your hair and tilts your head up so he can look at you. Lust blown wide in his eyes as you hold his heavy cock in your hands.

"You're gonna kill me one day you know that?" He groans as you stick your tongue out and lick the tip of it. A devilish tint in your eyes.

"What a way to go huh?" You tease as you take him as far into your mouth as you can, hell bent on sucking away any insecurities still floating in Logan's brain.

It's messy and hot and Logan feels like he's going to burst much sooner than he wants but he can't fucking help it. I mean fuck a hot thing like you has your warm mouth wrapped around his dick, how could he not fall apart. He places his hand on the back of your head and shoves you down until you choke.

You love when he gets rougher, he says he can't but his dominance shows in other ways, like the hold he has on your hair and the messy thrust of his hips. You moan around him and he slams his hand against the shower wall, accidently cracking the tile. Not strong my ass. It doesn't take long for him to come down your throat.

You drink it up with ease, wiping your lips as he pulls his softening cock out of your mouth. He pulls you up easily and gently pushes you against the wall, his lips on your neck biting and sucking anywhere he can get.

"Fuck baby," He groans as one of his hands slips down in between your legs.

"You can't get rid of me that easy old man." You groan as you wrap your arms around his neck.

"Yeah yeah," He lifts you up, ignoring the pain in his back as he carries you out of the shower and to the bedroom.

"Logan! We're soaking wet." You whine as he tosses you onto the bed, crawling up until he's slotted perfectly between your legs.

"I know." He says with a smirk.

"Feel better now?" You ask as he puts his arms under your thighs.

You were always good at keeping his bad thoughts at bay. Another night he might be pulled back in to his thoughts, but for now he'll just thank the universe for bringing you to him.

"Yeah I am baby, But I'm about to feel even better."

[lucy-literates]

Hello! Sorry to bother you

I just saw that your requests are open and I would like to ask you to (maybe and if you can) write about an idea I had.

I was thinking about Arthur Leclerc with a Plus size!reader. Maybe she's insecure about being so different from his exes, starting on things like her body and ending on the fact she doesn't speak his language yet. Maybe she gets too shy about telling him about her feelings and starts to distance herself and stop being as touchy as she usually is (maybe to fit what we believe to be the "European coldness") and he notices that something's wrong.

If you're okay with that, maybe we could get some smut, please?

Sorry for the bad English and for the terribly long ask 🤡

Not Like Them

A/N: Hello! Please, never apologise for asking, requesting, or any language barrier. This was perfect, and I understood your English; it is terrific. The longer the ask, the easier it is for me to write something you will like! I 've never heard of European Coldness (I'm Australian, fun fact), so I had to give it a google and I thought it was a really funny concept. Thank you so much for the ask, I hope I get to hear from you again! Enjoy and, as always, my inbox is open :)

It started small.

You didn’t even realize you were doing it — the way you’d pull your shirt down a little more when his hands wandered too low. Or how you started sitting at the far end of the couch instead of curling into his side like you used to. You kissed him less often. Smiled more quietly. Touched him like you were afraid of overstaying your welcome.

At first, you told yourself it was nothing. You were just tired. Just preoccupied. But the truth settled somewhere in your chest like a stone:

You didn’t feel like you belonged beside him.

Arthur was effortless. Golden. Lithe and lean with those soft eyes and stupidly sharp cheekbones. His exes looked like models — tall, slim, that natural sort of “French-girl cool” that didn’t seem to require effort. They wore crop tops and didn’t apologize for taking up space. They ordered wine without blushing, threw their heads back when they laughed, and could lean in close to his ear to whisper something in rapid French and make it sound like poetry.

You were not that girl.

And lately, it was hard not to notice.

The way fans commented on your photos — even the polite ones, the backhanded compliments. The way they said things like “Arthur seems sweet, love that he’s giving average girls a chance” or “she seems kind.” Kind. Like you were some rescued stray dog, grateful just to be fed.

You didn’t say anything, not at first. What were you supposed to do — tell Arthur that his touch didn’t feel safe anymore because your own mind had turned against your body?

So you smiled. Dressed more modestly. Pulled away when he reached for your hips. Laughed off the moments when he asked if something was wrong.

And that was the worst part — he noticed.

He noticed every time.

One night, it all broke.

You were at his Monaco apartment, legs curled under you on the couch. Arthur had just gotten back from a long sim session, hair still damp from a shower. He came to sit beside you, smelling like soap and warmth, eyes sleepy and soft.

He leaned in to kiss you, a lazy peck on your jaw — but you shifted, subtly, just enough that it landed on your cheek.

He paused.

“…Mon cœur?”

You smiled, small. “Hmm?”

“I kissed your cheek.”

“I know,” you said lightly. “It’s okay.”

He didn’t answer. Just sat there for a moment, studying your profile.

“You don’t let me touch you anymore.”

Your breath hitched.

“I do,” you said too quickly. “I’m just— I don’t know. Tired. That’s all.”

He turned toward you fully now, brows furrowed, voice softer. “No. That’s not it.”

You looked down at your hands. The silence stretched, fragile and loud.

Arthur’s voice broke it. “Is it me?”

You shook your head, suddenly overwhelmed. “No. God, no, Arthur, it’s not you.”

He reached out and touched your wrist, just lightly — like he was afraid you might flinch. “Then what is it?”

You couldn’t hold it anymore. The words rushed out, breathless and raw. “I just… I don’t look like the girls you’ve dated. I don’t fit here. Not with you, not in this place, not in these photos. I’m not sleek and French and perfect. I don’t even speak your language.”

Arthur’s expression crumpled, like someone had cracked something inside his chest.

“Mon ange…”

“I’m not saying it because I want you to fix it,” you said quickly. “I just— I’ve been feeling it, and it’s been building, and I don’t know how to be the version of me that fits next to you. So I’ve been pulling back. Because if I become quieter, smaller, maybe I’ll ruin things less.”

He was quiet for a beat.

And then his voice came low, hoarse with emotion.

“You think I want you to be smaller?”

You opened your mouth, but he kept going.

“You think I want less of you?” His hand moved to cup your face, thumb brushing just under your eye. “I fell in love with all of you. The loud laughs. The thighs that knock into mine under the table. The hips I can hold when you’re on top of me. The soft, real parts of you. The strong, wild parts.”

“Arthur—”

“I don’t care what you weigh. Or what you wear. Or what language you speak. You are my home.”

You blinked hard.

“I know it’s hard,” he said gently. “I know how loud those voices get in your head. But let me be louder. Please.”

His forehead pressed to yours.

“I love you. Every inch. Every word. Every silence.”

You exhaled a shaky breath. Your hands wrapped around his wrists, grounding yourself. And then — finally — you kissed him. Really kissed him.

And he kissed you back like it had been days. Weeks. Like he’d been starving for it.

By the time he carried you to the bedroom, his hands never left your skin. Not once did he rush you. He pulled your shirt off gently, eyes trailing over your stomach, your chest, like he was memorizing every dip and curve.

“Regarde comme tu es belle…” he murmured, voice thick.

You flushed. “I don’t know what that means.”

He kissed your shoulder. “It means you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He didn’t strip you fast. He undressed you like unwrapping a gift — slow, reverent, pressing kisses to every spot that made you want to hide.

“You don’t have to hold your stomach in,” he whispered at one point, hands on your waist. “You don’t have to hide anything from me.”

You nodded, tears stinging — not from pain, but from the unbearable tenderness of it.

When he finally pushed into you, he moved slowly, filling you like he was coming home. No fast, rough pounding. Just rolling hips and soft praise and warm hands splayed over your body, anchoring you to the bed, the room, to him.

“You feel perfect,” he murmured against your neck. “Like you were made for me.”

You cried when you came — not from shame but from release, from the love pouring into you with every thrust, every breathless mon amour he whispered against your skin.

When it was over, he didn’t roll away. He stayed there, holding you, one hand splayed over your stomach like a promise.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever dated,” he said into your hair.

You tensed slightly — but he kissed your temple and added, “You’re so much better.”

Would you like a follow-up scene where he teaches you some French pet names in bed or insists on taking you to a public event just to show you off and shut everyone up?

[ronearoundblindly]

For the every Cevans character, what is each one’s favorite position in bed? 😏😆

Fac-i-na-ting. I have categorized them into similar positions and then broken down the specifics or variations. No, I do not know the actual names of a lot of positions. I use the terms 'top' and 'bottom' but NOT in a BDSM way.

Sincerely, MINORS DNI. Warnings for very smutty descriptions of each of these characters 'in the act' and just...do I need to warn you about how much I was sweating during this???

'Top' Positions

Curtis Everett - Jimmy Dobyne - Steve Rogers - Ransom Drysdale - [Bucky Barnes]

Curtis is a cramped-quarters kind of lover, like you have been fucked up the bed until you and he are pressed against that headboard like a pretzel on a baking sheet. Gahdamn, he is intense. He threads an arm beneath you to make sure you're as close as possible. He grinds his pelvis into you, loving how his balls slap your ass. He likes it real sweaty, but he'll help you clean up in the shower, too. Dirty boi. 😮‍💨 We need him.

Jimmy and Ransom like you bent over but in different ways. Ransom just enjoys doggie-style. He feels awkward with too much eye contact and doesn't have to worry about that from behind. Jimmy is exceptionally good at spontaneously pressing you back or down onto a counter or the couch or perhaps a fence outside. 😳 He's oddly into fucking with at least some clothes on, but not because he doesn't like your body. He has a thing for choosing sex over chores or other obligations, so he and you are dressed for doing whatever else. It's just a little naughtier that way.

Steve is--I'm sure we can all agree--a missionary man. He looooves that eye contact Ran is so afraid of, but BUT! Steve's also a most considerate gentleman. He worries about putting too much of his weight on you, so his actual favorite position in pinning you against a wall (or mirror or window, etc) because he can lean into you without fear. He also enjoys that you get very, very excited for him to hold you up like that. You wrap around his neck and kiss him like it's your purpose in life. You get handsy, and that's about his favorite part...

[I know you said CE characters, nonnie, but Bucky just sneaks in, sorry!]

Ngl, Bucky took me the longest to figure out, and I'm not entirely sure he has a true 'favorite,' something he likes a good deal more than other positions. I have, however, landed on Bucky going braindead and gooey inside when he gets you in a mating press. There's, uh, a symbolism to wanting him and his cum inside you for as long as possible that hits all the right buttons to shut him down to the rest of the world for a while. He likes to sit back afterward and grip your knees to keep you right there until some drips out as you clench around nothing. You aren't empty though.

[Why. the fuck. does Bucky always get so 🥵 in these?]

'Bottom' Positions

Johnny Storm - Jake Jensen - Lloyd Hansen

Lloyd lets himself be lazy. He legitimately tucks his hands behind his head like he's at the beach and taunts you to work harder. He's so used to ordering people around and being quite active. Unless he has some aggression/frustration to work through, Lloyd needs to not be bothered with effort. It's your turn. Put your back into it.

Jake lets you control everything. Let's be fair: Jake is just happy to be here, ya know? He gets to be naked, he gets to see you naked, and he is going to come no matter what. Use him to your heart's content. Don't try telling him not to touch you (like an order or a deprivation game) because he can't stop himself. Every other order or request, he's game for, but on his back offers the best view of you--and technically, his glasses fog less 😬.

Johnny straight up loves when you ride him. He controls everything from below, though, because it's not actually about you taking over. He loves guiding your hips. He loves fucking up into you. He loves already being prone to fall asleep faster. [Go on, try to tell me I'm wrong. ::listens:: ::crickets:: Yeah, that's what I thought.] It's a win-win-win situation. All around cannot fail to please him. Johnny is definitely the type to assume that what feels good to him feels as good for his partner.

'Side' Positions

James Mace - Ari Levinson

Mace technically changes positions so much it maybe doesn't count as 'side,' but he's so playful, I'll allow it. His favorite sex, in general, is filled with natural ebbs and flows, quicker frantic times as well as soft doting and sweet, blissful enjoyment. A position that puts either him and you a hair's breath away from taking over is ideal. He wants to enjoy your company as much as your body. Mace can do both of those things in many, many different positions.

[Mace is quickly becoming a sleeper-fave of mine, my gawd. He's 😘🤌]

Finally, if Ari doesn't scream "wants to wake up fucking you," I don't know who does. He's spooning you, or coiled together with you someway, and just...ready when he sees you first thing in the morning--or in the middle of the night. Why bother moving much? He'll lift that leg up for you. He'll wrap around you to cup your breasts, play with your nipples, and rub your clit. Don't you worry 'bout a thing. Doesn't have to do with the position you're in, per se, but Ari also gruffly whispers other shit he'd like to do to you in your ear. It's vaguely easier to do that when your heads are on the same pillow, just saying.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; 'Who Would..." Asks; Ko-Fi]

A/N: I successfully scheduled a post! Look at me, learning and shit...

[quillsnink]

How Stray Kids react to you telling them playfully "I'd trade you for a lifetime supply of chocolates"

A/N : Picture credit goes to the owner.

• You're enjoying a quiet and lazy day off with the Stray Kids member of your choice, happily munching on a chocolate bar and he's silently working next to you . That is until you tell them in a mock serious tone "You know, I'd totally and happily trade you for a lifetime supply of chocolates".

Chris

• He blinks at you in confusion but then pretends to be so hurt.

• "You'd trade me ? Just for some cocoa beans ? Do you know how much effort I put into this relationship ? Are my late night calls, texts, cuddles, kisses not enough for you that you'd trade them for some chocolates ? My worth is so less in front of chocolates".

• And you giggle at his reaction and say "I'm just joking Channie" while messing up his hair a little.

• "I'll let it slide this time but I'll bring you chocolate next time to show you I am irreplaceable", he pouts.

Minho

• He raises an eyebrow at your statement as if to say "yeah like you could live without me".

• "Just so you know, your priorities are all wrong. A chocolate bar won't dance with you or cook for you or even kiss you. Choose wisely dummy".

• And you laugh at his response and he's like "don't even try to explain yourself, I'll be watching you the next time you eat a chocolate and it's going to be a problem if you enjoy it more than you enjoy being with me", he smirks and rolls his eyes.

Changbin

• He can't help but laugh at your weird out-of-the-blue statement.

• "I work out every single day, write love songs for you and even share my food with you and you're telling me I can easily be replaced by some cocoa products ? Wow I have been replaced huh by some mere KitKat. Great great", he says, pretending to be hurt.

• He later holds up a chocolate bar and asks you playfully, "so who's it gonna be, this chocolate or me ?", with an amused smile.

Hyunjin

• Hyunjin, being his dramatic self, would clutch his chest in mock hurt.

• "You'd trade ME for some chocolates ? That too HAPPILY ? Wow I guess I was wrong huh. I thought I was your number one, your soulmate, your one true love but I've been demoted to second place by a mere Ferrero Rocher. Wow just wow, I have no words".

• You'd poke his cheek "aww Jinnie ever the dramatic I love you, buuuut I love chocolate a liiiiitle but more", you say playfully.

• "Maybe I'm dramatic but you brought this on yourself".

• He'd later get you an entire Ferrero Rocher box and will say "Chocolates will never love you the way I do, my love,but here you go".

Han

• He looks up from his laptop and gasps loudly. "Are you serious ? Chocolates really ? That's all it'd take ? I thought I meant more to you than some bar of chocolate".

• You giggle at his response and squish his squirrel-like cute cheeks and tell him that you're just messing with him.

• "No no it's not done. I thought I was special to you but no it's your caramel chocolate that gets your love. I was just writing this love song for you, sitting beside you and getting inspired, but no, wait I'll change it into a diss track for you and your chocolates. It will be on our next album".

Felix

• He had been drafting an email to one of his endorsement offers and at your statement he looks up at you with innocent eyes, momentarily confused, and then pretends to be hurt.

• "What ? I bake you yummy brownies, I bring you snacks and I cuddle with you, but you're saying I'm secondary just because I don't come in a fancy wrapper ?"

• And you smile "innocently" at him and he's like "ok i forgive you this time only because you're cute and that wouldn't actually trade me for chocolate right ?", he asks, pulling you into a hug, setting his laptop aside.

• "Who knows Lixie, who knows ?", you wink.

Seungmin

• He looks up at you with a deadpan expression as he was folding his freshly washed laundry.

• "Chocolate ? That's all ? I guess I'll see myself out then".

• And you're like "I'm joking Minnie" and he raises an eyebrow.

• "No, no. Don’t backtrack now. You’ve made your choice. Enjoy your life with your chocolates while I’m off being amazing somewhere else."

• He later hands you a white chocolate bar and is like "Don't tell me I don't fulfill your wishes, doll".

Jeongin

• He looks up at you, both eyebrows raised, " what did you say ?"

• "You heard me Innie", you smirk.

• "You'd trade me for some chocolates ? Wow, do you hear yourself right now ? Are you out of your mind ? Chocolates ? I thought I was your special person but you've replaced me with a box of Dairy Milk ? Wow Y/N wow, unbelievable. I am so offended right now", he says as he pretend to sulk and shakes his head as you pulling him into a playful hug.

• He later hides your favourite chocolate and when you ask him about it he responds casually, "no more chocolates for you until you admit I'm better", giving you a cheeky grin.

A/ N : Hope you liked it. Do like, comment, reblog and follow if you did. Meanwhile you can find the rest of my masterlist here.

[wchswift]

ଓ Home for the Holidays

Pairing: Logan Howlett x latina!fem!reader Summary: you're finally dating Logan, and this year for Christmas, your family, not very mutant-friendly, invites you and Logan to the holiday. Content: fluff, a lot of feelings, slightly angst, established relationship, complicated parents but they redeem themselves, not proofread, English isn’t my first language :) Word count: 5k (I got a little carried away) A/N: like I said christmas prompts are all my head has been coming up with lately lol. This one is totally self indulgent... I'm sorry (not really). I really think Logan would get along great with my latin family so this is what I wrote! Merry Christmas to you all!!! 🎄

mdni 𖤐 18+

The world outside was muffled in white. Snow blanketed the grounds of the X-Mansion, smoothing over the jagged chaos that typically defined the lives of its residents. But here, in this room, everything felt still, warm, and safe.

You blinked awake slowly, your cheek resting against the solid plane of Logan’s chest. His steady breathing was a low hum beneath your ear, and the arm he’d slung across your waist anchored you in place, as if he thought you might disappear if he let go.

For a while, you stayed like that, letting the lazy warmth seep into your bones. Mornings like these were rare. Most of your days started with some crisis or other, but the mansion had gone blessedly quiet for the holidays. Even the younger mutants seemed to understand the sanctity of this lull, their usual chatter and chaos replaced with soft laughter and the occasional sound of Christmas music echoing faintly through the halls.

Logan shifted beneath you, his muscles flexing under your cheek as he adjusted his grip. The calloused pads of his fingers traced absentminded circles on your back, a tender gesture you’d come to treasure.

“You’re quiet this morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. “Something on your mind?”

You smiled, too comfortable to move. “Just appreciating this.” You turned your head slightly, nuzzling against him. “Don’t ruin it by talking too much.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Fair enough.”

The quiet stretched out again, the two of you wrapped in the soft cocoon of blankets and each other. You let your thoughts wander, enjoying the rare chance to simply exist without the weight of responsibility pressing down on you.

And then your phone buzzed.

You groaned, burying your face against Logan as the sound shattered the tranquility. “No,” you mumbled. “Not yet.”

Logan reached over to the nightstand, grabbing the offending device without letting you go. “You gonna answer this, or am I tossing it out the window?” he asked, holding it just out of your reach.

You sat up reluctantly, frowning at the screen. The familiar number made your stomach twist, a mix of excitement and apprehension knotting your insides.

“It’s my family,” you said softly.

Logan’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but he didn’t say anything. He just handed you the phone, his steady gaze enough to ground you.

You hesitated, then swiped to answer. “Hello?”

“¡Mija!” Your mother’s voice filled the line, bright and cheerful as ever. “You sound tired. Are you resting enough? Eating well?”

You smiled despite yourself. “Hi, mamá. I’m fine, I promise.”

“Good. Listen, I have some news.” Her tone turned conspiratorial, and you could almost picture her leaning closer, as if you weren’t miles away. “We want you to come home for Christmas. Your papá and I were talking, and it’s been too long since we’ve all been together.”

Your chest tightened. It had been too long. Ever since your powers had manifested, there had been tension, distance. But in recent months, your family had made an effort to mend things, to accept you for who you were. And now, this invitation felt like another step forward.

“I’d love to,” you said after a moment, your voice softer now. “I really would.”

“Good, good. And—” She hesitated, then plowed ahead, her excitement spilling over. “Bring your boyfriend. Logan, right? We want to meet him.”

You froze, your gaze flicking to Logan, who was watching you with mild curiosity. Your mother’s words echoed in your head, and suddenly, the cozy warmth of the room felt stifling.

“Mija? Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” you managed, your throat dry. “I’m here.”

“Well, bring him. And don’t worry—he’s family now, too. We’ll take care of him.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing down on you. After a few more pleasantries, you ended the call and set the phone down, your hands trembling slightly.

Logan tilted his head, his dark eyes narrowing. “What was that about?”

“My family,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended. “They want me home for Christmas. They want us home for Christmas.”

His eyebrows lifted again, but there was no hesitation in his response. “All right.”

“All right?” You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re okay with going?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He shrugged, his tone casual, but you could see the flicker of something deeper in his expression. “It’s your family. They’re important to you.”

You bit your lip, looking down at your hands. “I just… I don’t know how they’ll react. I mean, they’ve been better about accepting me, but this is different. And you…” You trailed off, struggling to find the words.

Logan reached for you, his hand warm and solid as it cupped your cheek. “Hey,” he said softly. “Stop overthinking it. If they’ve got a problem with me, that’s their issue, not yours. But if you want me there, I’m there.”

His certainty steadied you, and you leaned into his touch, releasing a shaky breath. “Of course I do! I do want you there. I just—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted gently. “Stop worrying. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Okay. Together.”

Logan leaned back against the pillows, pulling you with him until you were curled up against his side again. The knot of anxiety in your chest loosened slightly, replaced by a tentative sense of hope for having Logan by your side.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, and for a little while longer, the two of you stayed wrapped in the quiet, preparing for the journey ahead.

When it was no longer possible to extend the moment with Logan, you got up and started your day. Since it was close to Christmas, the mansion was quieter and less crowded, giving you a chance to relax alone for a while.

The snow seemed endless, a quiet ocean blanketing the world outside. From the wide windows of the X-Mansion’s common area, it stretched out in every direction, softening the edges of the landscape until it looked like something out of a dream.

You sat on the arm of the couch, watching the scene unfold with the same stillness it seemed to demand. Logan was a shadow in the corner of the room, leaning casually against the doorframe. His presence was like gravity—solid, constant, something you could always feel even when you weren’t looking.

But now, his gaze was fixed on you, sharp and unwavering.

“You’ve been quiet all morning,” he said, breaking the silence. There was no accusation in his tone, only a quiet observation. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You sighed, your breath fogging up the window for just a moment before it vanished. “It’s nothing.”

He let out a low hum, the kind that told you he didn’t believe a word of it. He crossed the room in a few steps, coming to stand beside you. His reflection joined yours in the glass, his dark eyes meeting yours in the faint, distorted version of the world.

“Try again,” he said, his voice softer now.

You looked down at your hands, fingers twisting in your lap. “It’s just… the idea of going home, after too long. And bringing you with me.”

His reflection didn’t waver. “You don’t want me to come?”

“No!” The word burst out of you too quickly, and you winced at the sharpness of it. “That’s not it. I already said, course I want you to come, Lo. It’s just—” You hesitated, your thoughts tripping over each other in their rush to the surface. “I don’t know how they’ll be. My family, I mean. They’ve gotten better about… about everything, but it’s still complicated. And you going too—”

You glanced at him, struggling to find the right words. “You’re not exactly… subtle, Logan. You literally have mutant written all over you. You’re like a storm—intense and impossible to ignore. And I love it so much, but my family, they’re…”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“They’re the kind of people who smile through awkward silences and sweep anything messy under the rug,” you finished weakly. “I just—I don’t know if they’ll know what to do with you. And I don’t want them to make you feel like you don’t belong. I don't want them to treat you differently.”

Logan was quiet for a long moment, his gaze still fixed on you. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady, like the rumble of distant thunder.

“You think I care what they think?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he held up a hand to stop you.

“They’re your family,” he said simply. “I’m not going for them. I’m going for you.”

There was something so unshakable about the way he said it, as if the answer was as obvious as the ground beneath his feet.

You let out a shaky laugh, your breath fogging up the glass again. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is,” he said, and the quiet conviction in his voice made your chest ache. “They don’t have to like me. Hell, they don’t even have to understand me. But if they love you, then they’ll respect the choices you’ve made. And if they don’t—” His reflection smiled faintly, a wry twist of his lips. “Well, they’ll have to deal with me.”

You shook your head, a reluctant smile tugging at your own lips. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” he said, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “But I’m yours. That’s all that matters.”

Something in your chest unfurled at his words, the knot of anxiety loosening just enough for you to take a deep breath. You leaned against him, your forehead resting against his shoulder. He smelled faintly of pine and smoke, like the forest itself had come to life and taken human form. It was so comforting.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

“For what?” he asked in a low voice, his hand coming up to rest on the back of your neck.

“For being you.”

He huffed a soft laugh, and you felt his lips brush against your hair. “Don’t go getting all sentimental on me now, sweetheart.”

You laughed, the sound lighter now, like the snowflakes falling outside. For the first time all morning, the weight in your chest didn’t feel quite so heavy.

The road stretched ahead of you like an endless ribbon, winding through snow-draped trees and frozen lakes that glittered faintly in the pale winter sunlight. The hum of the car engine was the only sound for a while, a quiet rhythm that matched the pulse of your thoughts.

Logan drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console where his fingers occasionally brushed against yours. It was a casual touch, almost absentminded, but it anchored you to him in a way words never could.

You watched his profile as he drove, the sharp lines of his face softened by the morning light. There was a quiet intensity about him, like a storm that seemed less threatening and more comforting. He was like a force of nature, capable of demolishing obstacles while also providing a protective haven —a force of nature that could tear down walls and shield you from the worst of the world all at once.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked without taking his eyes off the road.

You smiled faintly. “Are they worth that much?”

“Probably more,” he said, his lips twitching into the smallest of smirks. “But that’s all I’ve got on me.”

You laughed softly, the sound easing the tension in your chest. “I was just thinking about how far we’ve come. I mean, from where we started… to this.”

Logan glanced at you, his brow furrowing slightly. “This isn’t just ‘far.’ This is everything.”

His words were so simple, so unshakable, that they left you momentarily speechless. He had a way of doing that—cutting through your overthinking with a clarity that left no room for doubt.

You turned to look out the window, the snow-covered landscape blurring past. “You know, when my powers first showed up, I thought… I thought I’d never have this. A life. Someone like you.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, but you felt his hand move, his fingers intertwining with yours on the console. “Guess I’m lucky you were wrong.”

You blinked, surprised by the softness in his voice. When you looked at him again, his eyes were fixed on the road, but there was something unguarded about his expression—a glimpse of the man behind the claws and the growl.

“Logan…”

He shook his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Don’t go getting mushy on me now, sweetheart. We’ve got a long drive ahead.”

You snorted a laugh, leaning back in your seat. The warmth of his hand in yours stayed with you, a quiet reassurance that no matter what waited at the end of this journey, you wouldn’t face it alone.

By the time you pulled into the driveway, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. Your family’s house was just as you remembered—warm, inviting, and alive with the kind of chaos that only the holidays could bring.

Lights twinkled along the roofline, and the faint sound of music spilled out into the crisp evening air. As Logan helped you with the bags, the front door swung open, and a wave of noise and warmth hit you like a tidal wave.

“¡Cariño! ¡Por fin!” Your mother was the first to greet you, wrapping you in a hug so tight it stole your breath. “I’ve been waiting all day!”

“Mamá,” you managed, laughing as she fussed over you.

And then her attention shifted to Logan. Her eyes softened, though her tone remained brisk. “And this must be Logan.”

He nodded, his posture relaxed but his expression carefully neutral. “Ma’am.”

Your mother’s lips twitched, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she turned to usher you both inside, chattering about the food, the decorations, and how your father was already working on his second plate.

The rest of the family followed in quick succession, a whirlwind of introductions, hugs, and rapid-fire questions. Logan handled it all with a quiet patience that surprised even you, his gruff demeanor softening just enough to put them at ease.

Your younger cousin tugged at his sleeve, wide-eyed. “Are you really Wolverine? Like, claws and everything?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, glancing at you as if to ask, 'Should I?'

You shrugged, trying not to laugh. “Might as well get it over with.”

With a sigh, he extended one hand, the metallic claws sliding out with a faint snikt. Your cousin’s eyes widened further, her jaw dropping.

“Whoa…”

The rest of the family crowded around, their curiosity breaking any lingering tension. Logan didn’t say much, but the faint smirk on his face told you he didn’t mind the attention nearly as much as he pretended to.

As the evening wore on, the chaos began to settle. The smell of food and cinnamon filled the air, and the house hummed with laughter and music. Logan had drifted to a corner of the room, where your father showed him an old photo album.

You watched them from across the room, your heart swelling at the sight of Logan fitting into this world you’d been so afraid to share with him.

“Mija,” your mother said, pulling you aside. Her voice was softer now, her eyes warm. “He’s good for you. I can see it.”

You smiled, your chest tightening with emotion. “He is. More than I ever thought I deserved.”

She cupped your face, her hands warm and familiar. “Don’t ever think that. You deserve everything, and more. I wish I had told you that more often. I'm sorry, nena.”

For the first time in a long while, you believed her.

Dinner had barely ended when the music started, a lively rhythm spilling from the speakers and filling every corner of the house. Chairs were pushed back, plates cleared away, and the living room became an impromptu dance floor.

You watched from the edge of the room, laughing as your cousins dragged reluctant uncles and aunts into the fray. The Christmas lights blinked in time with the beat, casting a kaleidoscope of colors over the scene.

And then you felt a hand on your wrist.

“C’mon,” Logan said, his voice low and warm.

You stared at him, incredulous. “You? Dance?”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’ve been around long enough to pick up a thing or two. Don’t make me regret this.”

Before you could protest, he pulled you onto the floor. The music swelled, and for a moment, you forgot the chaos, the noise, everything but the warmth of his hand on yours and the steady strength of his other hand resting lightly on your waist.

He wasn’t perfect—his steps were a little stiff, and his timing faltered now and then—but his confidence made up for it. You couldn’t stop smiling, even as your family whooped and cheered around you.

“Not bad for a grumpy old man,” you teased, your voice just loud enough for him to hear over the music.

“Careful,” he warned, his smirk widening. “We are at your parents' house but if you keep this up, that won't stop me from punishing you." He whispered against your ear for only you to hear, his voice firm but with a hint of humor.

You laughed, the sound pure and unrestrained, and for the first time that night, the weight of your nerves began to lift.

Later, as the music faded into softer melodies and the crowd thinned out, you found yourself in the kitchen, refilling glasses and helping your mother plate desserts.

“That Logan,” she said, her voice thoughtful. “He’s different.”

You froze, unsure of where she was going with this. “Is that… bad?”

She shook her head, her hands deftly arranging cookies on a platter. “No. Just… surprising. He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, you can tell he means every word. And the way he looks at you…” She paused, her gaze softening. “You deserve that kind of love, cariño. The kind that doesn’t waver.”

Your throat tightened, and you turned back to the counter, suddenly very interested in the stack of plates waiting to be carried out. “Thanks, mamá.”

But before you could continue, the sound of approaching footsteps drew your attention. Your aunt appeared in the doorway, her ever-present smile firmly in place.

“There you are!” she said brightly, stepping into the kitchen as though she hadn’t just been eavesdropping. Her gaze flicked between you and your mother, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. “What are we talking about?”

“Logan,” your mother replied, her tone light but guarded.

“Ah,” your aunt said, her smile sharpening at the edges. “He’s… an interesting choice.”

You stiffened, the warmth from your mother’s words quickly fading. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” your aunt said breezily, but there was a calculated edge to her voice. She picked up a cookie, examining it as though it were the most fascinating thing in the room. “It’s just—well, a man like that doesn’t seem very… stable.”

Your mother frowned, "Paloma don't start…" she said with a warning tone, but even so, your aunt continued, her tone dripping with faux concern. “No, I just mean, he's a mutant! And with his background—and those claws… He seems a little aggressive too, It must be exhausting, keeping up with someone like him.”

The words hit like a slap, dredging up the old insecurities you’d worked so hard to bury. Your grip on the platter tightened as you struggled to steady your voice. “Don't you dare! You don't know anything about him. Logan is not aggressive, he is a good man, kind and caring.” you said evenly, refusing to rise to her bait.

“Of course, I’m sure he is,” your aunt said, her smile widening. “But he is still a mutant, don’t you think—”

"And my daughter is also a mutant, Paloma, so you better stop this, " your mother replied, her face completely serious now.

"I didn't mean to offend, I'm sorry," she said sarcastically. "But it's funny you should say that since you never were okay or wanted to deal with the fact that she was a mutant either."

Your breath caught your throat, chest tightening as you felt anger take over.

"You're right, I lost my relationship with my daughter just because I didn't understand her, and I was wrong. All I want most is to make up for it and change. So I won't accept any more of your prejudice, not with my daughter or with Logan." Your mother's voice was firm and steady, her posture confident and despite the moment I smiled to see the change in her. The way she defended you.

“Everything is fine? Anyone got something to say about me?”

Before your aunt could answer, the deep, gruff voice cut through the air like a blade, silencing the room. You turned to see Logan standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable but his presence commanding.

Your aunt faltered, her confidence wavering under the weight of his gaze. “I—no, of course not,” she stammered, her smile faltering as she fidgeted with the cookie in her hand.

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver, and his voice was calm but firm as he added, “Good. We wouldn't want to cause a scene on Christmas, right?”

Your aunt nodded, muttered something about needing to check on the drinks, and scurried out of the kitchen, leaving an awkward silence in her wake.

Logan crossed the room in a few strides, his hand finding yours. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, grounding you. “You okay?” he asked softly. “Need a hand?” This time he looked at your mother, his gaze light and tone gentle.

Your mother stepped aside with a knowing smile. “She’s all yours.”

You smiled, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Logan’s hand tightened around yours. “C’mon,” he said, his voice low and meant only for you. “Let’s get out of here for a minute.”

The night had settled into a comfortable lull by the time Logan led you outside. The snow had stopped falling, but the cold still bit at your cheeks and turned your breath into faint clouds in the air.

“Busy night,” he said, his tone dry but not unkind.

You laughed softly, the sound muted by the quiet of the world around you. “You handled it pretty well.”

He shrugged, his hands buried deep in his jacket pockets. “Your family’s all right. Loud, but all right.”

You nudged him with your elbow. “That’s high praise coming from you.”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The silence stretched out, not uncomfortable, but heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Finally, he turned to you, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it. “You were scared about bringing me here,” he said, his voice a quiet rumble.

You let out a breath, watching it curl into the night air. “I didn’t want it to go wrong—for you, or for them. I thought maybe… maybe I was asking too much.”

Logan stepped closer, his presence like a shield against the cold. “You never ask too much from me,” he said firmly. “But you’ve got to stop carrying all this by yourself. You’re not alone in this anymore.”

His hand found yours, the roughness of his fingers a contrast to the gentleness of his touch. “You don’t need to protect me. And you sure as hell don’t need to protect them from me. That’s not how this works.”

Your throat tightened, his words cutting through the tangled mess of your insecurities. “I just… I don’t want to mess this up,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

He tipped your chin up, his eyes locking onto yours. “You won’t.” The certainty in his voice was unshakable, and it felt like he was holding more than just your gaze—it felt like he was holding you together.

"I can't lose you, Logan," you breathed, desperation lacing your words. "And sure as hell I wasn't going to lose you because of my family." As he leaned closer, the frigidness of the world outside seemed to fade, replaced by the warmth radiating from him. His forehead grazed yours, a gentle touch that sent a shiver of connection coursing through you.

His breath was warm, his voice a whisper that carried only for you. “Whatever happens, it’s you and me. That’s not changing.”

The words wrapped around your heart, soft and unyielding all at once. “I love you,” you whispered, the confession slipping out before you could stop it.

He smiled then, a rare, fleeting thing that lit his face like sunlight breaking through clouds. “I love you too,” he said, the rough edges of his voice softening with the weight of the truth.

And then he kissed you, slow and deliberate, like there was nothing in the world but this moment. His hands moved to your waist, grounding you, making you feel like everything would be okay.

Later that night, the house was quieting down. The children had been sent to bed, though the muffled sound of giggles hinted they weren’t asleep just yet. Most of the adults had retreated to the kitchen for coffee and one last helping of dessert. You sat with Logan on the couch, the glow of the Christmas tree casting soft shadows across the room.

The space felt smaller now, more intimate, as if the noise and chaos from earlier had wrapped itself around the house and left behind only warmth. Logan had his arm draped along the back of the couch, and you leaned against him, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you.

“Y’know,” he said, his voice low, “I’ve been around a long time. Seen a lot of families. Never really… been part of one.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, surprised by the confession. “Not even before—?”

He shook his head, cutting you off gently. “Never had anything like this. The noise, the mess, the way they’re all in each other’s business.” He chuckled softly. “It’s good. Feels like life.”

You reached for his hand, your fingers lacing with his. “They’ve accepted you, you know. You might not think it, but they have.”

He looked down at you, his brow furrowed. “How can you tell?”

You smiled. “Because they’re treating you exactly the same way they treat me—asking too many questions, teasing you, shoving food at you like it’s the answer to everything. That’s how they show love.”

Logan was quiet for a moment, his eyes glued to your intertwined fingers. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it. “It’s nice. It’s… good to feel that. To feel like I’ve got a place.”

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, your heart swelling at the vulnerability he rarely let show. “You do. With them, and with me.”

The sun was barely rising when you woke the next morning, the soft glow of dawn spilling into the room. Logan was still asleep beside you, his breathing slow and even, one arm draped possessively over your waist. For a moment, you just watched him, marveling at the way the years seemed to fall away when he was at peace.

The sound of children’s laughter broke the stillness, followed by the creak of floorboards and the distant rustle of wrapping paper. Logan stirred, his eyes blinking open as he looked at you.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled, his voice gravelly with sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered, leaning down to brush a kiss against his lips.

He smiled against your mouth, his hand moving to the small of your back to pull you closer. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

The two of you made your way downstairs, where the living room had transformed into a chaotic wonderland of presents and decorations. The children were tearing into their gifts with wild abandon, while the adults watched with coffee cups in hand and fond smiles on their faces.

“¡Mija! ¡Logan! Ven acá!” Your father waved you over, a brightly wrapped package in his hands.

You sat on the floor beside Logan as your father handed you the gift. “This is for you two,” he said, his voice warm.

Inside was a framed photo of the family taken the night before, everyone crowded together under the Christmas lights. In the corner, Logan stood beside you, his expression reserved but his hand resting on your shoulder.

“We wanted you to have something to remember this Christmas by,” your father said. “So you’ll always know that you have a place here. Both of you.”

You glanced at Logan, your throat tight with emotion. He met your gaze, his arm coming to rest on your shoulders, gently pulling you against him as he gave you the smallest of nods.

By the time the car was packed and the goodbyes were said, the sun was high in the sky, casting long shadows across the snow. Your family stood on the porch, waving as Logan started the engine and pulled out of the driveway.

The road stretched out ahead of you, the silence in the car a comfortable contrast to the noise of the past two days. You leaned back in your seat, watching the snow-covered trees blur past.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” you said, glancing over at Logan.

He huffed a quiet laugh, his hands steady on the wheel. “Could’ve been worse. Your uncle Pablo was about two shots of tequila away from a fight, though.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “He’s always like that. But he liked you, you know. They all did.”

Logan didn’t respond right away, but the faint curve of his lips told you everything you needed to know.

As the miles stretched on, you found yourself reaching for his hand, your fingers lacing together over the console. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.

“You’re happy,” he said after a while.

You smiled, resting your head against the seat. “I am.”

He glanced at you, his expression soft. “Good. You deserve that.”

And as the car continued down the snow-dusted road, you realized that you finally felt completely at peace.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

[heartofbusan]

Jikook inspire so many people to believe in the kind of love songs are written about.

The kind of love found in books and movies and art.

Love is such a simple yet powerful emotion. Can it really be just a feeling? Sometimes, it's so powerful, it can barely be contained in one's body, thrumming to the surface, making your hair stand up, your cheeks blush, and your body to become like a magnet. The pull of the moon is strong between them.

They've been given a gift, really, and they share it with us. Keep it safe 🥹💜💛

-

I loved reading this thread. It's a compilation of people realizing...

Because you can't deny what's happening right in front of your salad.

What was your moment?

Mine was GCFT. I work in film, and I know how much time and effort goes into making any video, be it short or long. This was a labor fueled by love.

Any video is born from an idea, a spurt of inspiration that transforms into concrete steps and actions. Jungkook constructed the narrative by, first of all, bringing along the camera. Maybe even while planning the trip. He consciously turned his lens towards his subject, his muse, by placing said subject in a variation of wide shots, the 'Tokyo' of the title becomes the backdrop of the narrative: a young man, enjoying his freedom in Tokyo.

The close ups always get me. First, the Jimin we see glancing around his shoulder in the tunnel leading towards the plane. He's in 'disguise', hiding his appearance, hunched over a bit. Hiding, but unable to keep up appearances, he busts a funny move when he catches Jungkook looking at him. This is the beginning of his transition. The shedding of a layer.

Then, comes the silly faced Jimin, bathed in yellow light.

Here we see Jungkook's Jimin emerge.

Funny, yes, but more importantly, UNINHIBITED. Free. Guys, I'm crying again. Nobody puts GCFT in a corner because she needs to shine.

The golden light cast upon his face, and he emerged into his truest form.

😭😭😭😭

Almost at the end of gcft, we see the most beautiful of all the Jimin’s. He is free to laugh and be silly, free from control, his own, and others. And Jungkook is right there with him, catching him if he needs.

Also, Jungkook is immortalizing this moment. For Jimin to see: this is how I see you. This is how beautiful you are, to me too. Guys, really... I cannot. Drink water pls.

As I looked for stills I stumbled upon a THOROUGH analysis of GCF's videos that I sincerely recommend. Read it on this (hopefully) lazy Sunday. Thanks to @kanmom51 for reblogging it since OP deactivated 🤧

Wow. This started as a way to hype that first thread, and before I knew it, I spent an hour looking for pictures and stumbled upon that blog, and my lazy Sunday became a GCF rabbithole. 😃😃😃 I am normal, I swear.

Have a lovely day, my sweets, I admire all of you for supporting real love. For believing in romance, even if you haven't experienced it yourself, or if you lost it, or if you don't desire it at all. It's all good. Life is about growing into your truest form.

Jikook grew from separate branches, only to entagle with each other, and GCFT is proof.

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere Shouta Aizawa/Eraserhead from BNHA but an AU where he's a villain? Can be concepts or a short, I'm happy with either! Darling could be a hero or a civilian but either way they have a powerful quirk, I think it would be cool to see what happens when Darling is faced with a yandere they can't rely on their quirk to defend against c: Of course, if you wanna keep Aizawa as a hero and feeling slightly guilty over his actions(but rationalizing them, of course), that could also be fun. Heroes are trustworthy, right? ;)

Honestly... Could go for some Villain AU, sure. I made you a hero in this :)

Yandere! Villain! Aizawa with Darling who has a strong Quirk

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Violence, Stalking, Restraints, Kidnapping, Sadism, Forced relationship.

Honestly, this idea is pretty neat if we make it a Villain/Hero story.

You're no doubt a pro hero who learned how to utilize your strong quirk for good.

Although, since you have such a strong quirk, you've most likely been utilizing it more than you should.

Since you've trained you've used it as a crutch.

You just haven't realized it... until it was taken.

Many pro heroes have a tendency to rely on their quirks.

Aizawa no doubt knows this weakness heroes have.

He may be lazy but he's observant.

He's actually learned how to fight with not just his quirk due to this.

After all, it's easy to bind a hero if they can't rely on their power.

Pathetic.

Aizawa no doubt observes his targets.

He knows you're a pro hero, he knows your quirk, and he knows your standing on the ladder.

Aizawa actually knows a lot more about you than you think.

He's always been observant of those he deems as targets.

Honestly, him being your yandere in this scenario is humbling.

When you first encountered Aizawa, that's when you realized just how vulnerable you are.

He knows that too.

You knew Aizawa was an infamous villain.

You knew of his quirk, you knew he went by Erasure.

Despite that... You weren't prepared.

You had first met him when you were called to detain him from a scene.

Unfortunately, you became reckless.

During your fight against him, Aizawa managed to make eye contact with you through his goggles.

It's nearly instant that your quirk stops and he manages to restrain you.

By the time the binding cloth wrapped around you... you expected him to seriously hurt you.

If not kill you.

Yet, instead, the villain grinned at you with a look of sadism.

Honestly, he was having fun with this.

You're cute when you realize your efforts are hopeless.

When you squirm it's amusing.

"Did you just realize you're out of your league? You seriously call yourself a pro when you can't even fight without your silly quirk?"

By the time the fight concludes and Aizawa spares you, you're left feeling weak.

This is also the start of you two seeing one another frequently.

Aizawa becomes the reason you train harder.

You're humiliated and anxious after your recent loss to him.

So after that... you work hard on training without your quirk.

Aizawa, on the other hand, is keeping track of your every move.

He likes how much he's affected you.

It's funny how him simply putting you on your rear is enough to make you rethink your whole routine.

If only all heroes thought about that.

Aizawa likes you because he's manipulative.

He likes to toy with you, to see how much he can push you before you're vulnerable.

In a twisted way... He's fallen for you.

He loves to make his hero hopeless.

It's a satisfying feeling to see someone so powerful fall.

Aizawa craves it when it comes to you.

You're driven with the urge to best Aizawa, to convince yourself and others that you can be strong as a pro.

Aizawa, however, meets with you because he enjoys seeing and toying with you.

He wants to see you break.

Each fight you two have gets closer and closer...

Yet you haven't studied Aizawa as much as he has with you.

Each fight ends the same.

You try to fight him quirkless, he's much faster than you, and you end up restrained.

It's not like you can avoid him either.

Even when you try to focus on other threats in the area, Aizawa always seems to be there.

Aizawa could easily control his obsession.

It's easy for him to kidnap you.

Well... with some planning.

Aizawa would have to snag some quirk canceling cuffs if he plans to keep you in one place.

Yet once he does... All he needs to do is find you again.

Your final fight is actually closer than expected.

You had been training your skills in physical combat just to face him again.

You aren't as fast but you've managed to learn some decent defense.

Unfortunately... Aizawa is once again determined to break you.

You manage to break out of his cloth a few times, you even manage to get him to blink.

Although... eventually Aizawa catches you off guard, once again making you feel weak despite your reputation.

You expect this to go as the last few times... only for you to feel the metallic click of cuffs on your wrists.

"Sorry, sweetheart... This time you're coming with me."

Once at this stage, things are easy for him.

Aizawa likes to keep you in his secret hideout, cuffed in his room where you get to look all pitiful for him.

Despite being such an intimidating villain... you notice he certainly naps a lot...

Most of the time near you.

Aizawa originally takes you so he can break you into his little doll.

You soon learn that... isn't entirely true.

Aizawa wants to break you not only for his own sadistic joy...

But because he adores you.

To him, this is his form of courtship.

He wants to keep you here as his entertainment, all for his pleasure.

You may not understand how he feels... but breaking you mentally is euphoric.

Poor you, supposedly a big strong hero meant to protect the innocent...

Now you're just like a civilian, captured and helpless, all at his mercy.

You may not love him yet, or even understand his motives...

But he'll break you... then train you to be his...

How's it feel to be weak, hero?

[panfroggy]

Thunderbolts* Headcanons Pt. 5 ⛈️

Videogames Edition

Bob loves a good video game. Lives for it even. He's got every hand held nintendo device you can have. (The team bought him them because they realized OXE burned what little personal belongings he had) + is often out in the living area using the WiiU or Xbox. He likes teaching the others how to play things and it makes him feel ever so slightly more useful because at least he can help the others cheer up.

Hear me out: John Walker is a Wii Sports LEGEND. The Wii was a canon event for this man. He will only (he says, but he'll play whatever the others will) play mario kart or Wii Sports. Tennis or Bowling nights are suffering. He's just too good, what can he say.

Ava doesn't play much of anything. They've been introducing her to things slowly. She just kind of does what everyone else is doing. Secretly, she likes it when Bob hands her his pokemon game to 'watch'. Bucky plans on getting her a 3DS for chistmas.

Yelena goes H A R D in Just Dance. She likes any game that requires what she deems 'actual effort' so it's her go to. If anyone beats her score on a track she won't speak to them for a day. It does however make for fun nights of fighting shitty Wii remotes while busting a move. Her favorite level is 'Call Me Maybe'

Bucky doesn't play video games. I'm sorry guys, this man would struggle with minecraft. It's just not for him. Sometimes he and Alexei will be a ''team'' for Wii sports, but that's a lot of him seeing how many times he can tell Alexei it's his turn before he actually has to play.

Alexei got that retired dad in him. He's partial to a shooter game but those must be played in his own room no exeptions. He and Walker will play together every once in a while but mostly if they're both frustrated after a mission. Really, Alexei enjoys watching the others play things.

Any and ALL forms of a video game board game (Wii Party, Mario Party ect) are BANNED from the house. Mel had to replace the TV one too many times. She threatened to steal the Wii all together but was shown reason.

Mario Kart is a staple of a lazy day. All of them can agree to play that. (Bob consitantly wins, John and Yelena try to beat him, Ava likes seeing how many people she can hit with shells, Bucky is 12th every. single. time. One day he got 11th and they got out champaigne to celebrate.)

Been a while, BUT.

[lamnwar]

Hey me again, lmao

Could you do Kiyoshi + Gom as husbands, If so thank youuu xxxx

Hi there, love! 💕 love love love this request!! I spend all my time daydreaming abt being married to these boys LMAO it's embarassing 😭 alsooo ik I took long before getting to your request but I wanted to finish all the big os requests first before working on hcs bc it's more heafty so sorry for my shitty habit of taking too long for simple stuff :((

HAPPILY EVER AFTER // KNB Headcanons

Context: what I imagine married life to be with these characters. 🥰

Pairing: GOM + Kiyoshi x gn! Reader (gender not specified)

Warnings: mainly fluff and crack, can get a bit suggestive in Aomine's (of course it's always him 😭) so mdni!

AKASHI

Rich, handsome and a gentleman!!! Literally the Holy Grail of husbands

The kind to spoil his pretty spouse out of love

Takes you out on a date at some fancy restaurant at least once a week

He's also very independent!! Now, I think he's the kind to hire people to help around the house but that doesn't stop him from doing chores

He'll always help you doing stuff for the house if you need

He has amazing taste!! Take him furniture shopping and you'll end up with on of those houses you see in AD

Brings up the subject of you dropping your work so you can stay home while he's the breadwinner

He's a bit traditional in that sense because he really doesn't want you to work if it's unecessary, you know?

I mean he's crazy rich so does that even make sense to make you work?? (Unless you absolutely want to)

Wakes you up every morning with a kiss!

He always had the proudest smile when he introduces you to people as his spouse <3

MIDORIMA

TREATS YOU LIKE A ROYAL OMG

This man takes marriage very seriously, listen

He most likely did a deep analysis of your birthchart before deciding that you are the right one for him

Naturally, as your husband, he gotta get you your lucky item of the day everyday

You don't even believe in that stuff but it's his love language, I guess

Not much one to go on dates unless you want to, then he'll be up for it

He's more one to enjoy time with you at home

Something like having a nice diner and cuddling while you read

The kind to love going grocery shopping with you

Every once in a while, he'll buy a fancy bottle of wine just to share it with you

A very supportive husband!! Every project you have in mind, he's already done the research to find the most efficient way for you to accomplish your plans

Not a PDA guy but he'll happily hold your hand when you're at gatherings together

May not be very vocal about his love for you but you better believe that he talks proudly of his spouse to every one he knows

KISE

He is OBSESSED with you

Man never left the honeymoon phase, he's so crazy about you

Takes you to his fancy modelling events and shows you off to every one he meets

He also buys you lots of clothes and acessories

Dare you say something is cute, he's already inside the shop buying it for you

Tries his best as chores but it's not really his thing

Will help as much as he can, though!

Breakfast in bed kind of guy hihi

And it happens a lot because let's be real, that man isn't the kind to let you sleep at night

Like I said earlier, he's never left the honeymoon phase so... yeah

Wants to be the kind of husband that gives you his credit card and tell you to do what you want with it but you have to decline

It's ok though, he'll fine plenty of other ways to spoil you

You have that cute habit every week of taking baths together

The kind to miss a day of work to take care of you when you're sick!

AOMINE

Daiki never thought he'd ever get married, but then he met you

Not the best at being a husband but he really tries!

Like he makes an effort of not being too lazy and messy

Leaves the chores to you mainly, but will give a hand

Like if you're cleaning around and need to put stuff on the top shelf, he'll do it for you

Not the best cook so he lets you make food while he does the dishes

I'm trying to delay the obvious but that man never stops being horny for you

Literally sits and daydream of fucking you on every surface of your home

Gets so riled up at the sight of that ring on your finger, he can't believe your all his

The kind to follow you everywhere you go, even if it's for some stupid errand

Takes you out to the beach or for a picnic as soon as the sun is shining outside

Buys you clothes he thinks you'd look good in and surprisingly, he's got amazing taste

Loves when you refer to him as "husband" in conversation!!

MURASAKIBARA

So casual about being married, most likely because to him that doesn't change a thing about the way he feels about you

Likes that now he gets to have you with him all the time

Cooks for you! Buys you snacks! Takes you out on restaurant dates!

Sharing is caring so he only ever shares his snack with you

I can see him being into matching outfits (if you can find any that fits both him and you)

A bit lazy so he doesn't help around that much unless you tell him to

And even that, he'd do some chores before getting distracted

But listen, it's ok though because he makes up for it in over ways

He's very caring, only because you're his spouse

Cuddles in bed, at all time! He just feels clingy sometimes

He smiles softly when he plays with your hand and sees the ring on your finger

He likes to sit you on his lap often

Basically being a husband doesn't differ much from how he was as a boyfriend

Very casual about calling you his spouse all the time, even in front of others

KIYOSHI

Kiyoshi Teppei was born to be a husband!!

Because he grew up with his grandparents, he's got the habit of taking care of a household and the people living in it

So he naturally took in most of the chores and he's good at it!

Doesn't want you to get tired either so he'll do most things

Pays attention to all the little things so you're always comfortable

He also likes going for a run/the gym with you and he's so encouraging!

Has the stupidiest smile on his face everytime he looks at you

He holds his grandparents as a reference so he really hopes you'll both grow old together, still madly in love

Don't get that man started on building a family, he just gets too excited at the idea of being a parent!

He'd be a great one too, but the final decision is up to you. Either way, he's just happy being with you.

I don't know what else to say because he's just made to be a husband, yk?

Yeah, probably the best person to marry <3 (I'm very biased)