#might be a hot second bc i have MANY things to do

[notsoprocreations]

Just a little guy! <3

[glamourscat]

May i please request headcanons, maybe a drabble of the batboys where reader is trying so hard to pretend that they don't know anything about their partner being a vigilante because they want to be told with trust and the boys are growing increasingly concerned about their s/o's obliviousness bcs like?? and the their s/o keeps saying things like "haha yeah!! red robin's super underground but that costume is pretty good timmy!" and "oh? i do have a thing for morally gray men, lovely red hood costume" whenever they accidentally see parts of the costume and can't pretend they didn't see it

idk i just think it would be funny af, ty in advance!!

i decided to go for drabbles. they are quite long so i only did jason and tim. should i do dick, maybe steph too, in the near future? let me know!

"You can't be serious," Jason thought. It's not that you're blind, and he’s not exactly being subtle. He knew from day one that being involved with a civilian meant the topic of his nightlife would eventually come to light. Before getting together you two had been friends for a long time, but he never quite managed to outright say, "Hey, by the way, I’m Red Hood." How do you even drop something like that into a conversation? 

Yet, as your relationship grew, more milestones came along and suddenly, you two were approaching your 2 year anniversary. Now, more than ever, as you found yourselves living together, Jason knew it was going to be harder to explain his secret. How many lies could he keep telling about going to help Roy or some emergency with Dick? How many nights could he still sneak out after you’d fallen asleep, only to return aching from a patrol?

So, he started leaving subtle hints. From his domino mask to his gloves… but hell, at this point, he might as well leave his whole costume out, because how in the hell are you not picking up on the clues?

“You know, Jay, that vigilante... What's his name? The one in red? Oh right, Red Hood. He’s pretty cool, right? I mean, he has a different approach than the others, i think some would say morally gray. I mean, hot.. Anyway, but—oh, wait, this is a lovely Red Hood costume! I didn’t know you were a fan too?!”

At that moment, Jason didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or do both at the same time. Maybe by accident—maybe not—he had left his entire costume out. And it wasn’t exactly cheap. The fabric was thick, heavy, it was definitely not something you’d find at a Spirit Halloween. Yet, you just folded it, didn’t ask any questions, and continued with your little chat.

“Doll, you got a moment?” he asked, trying to keep his tone as calm as possible because he was seconds away from laughing his lungs out.

“Yeah, Jay?” You looked at him, internally sweating. Did you give anything away? Did he suspect that you knew?

“You know, doll… that… the costume. I mean, it’s not fake, right? I…” He sighed, trying to find the right words.

“It’s real. Because I’m the Red Hood.” There. He’d said it. A relieved sigh left his lips as the words came out. Now comes the hardest part: your reaction. Would you laugh? Be shocked?

“Oh, yeah. I knew.”

What?

“What—? I beg your pardon?” Jason asked, his voice laced with disbelief, eyes scanning you to figure out if you were lying.

“I mean, you’re not exactly the most subtle, love, are you?” You said, amusement dancing in your eyes as you tried to hold back a smile. “Besides, I found out a while ago. I was just waiting, I suppose. It wasn’t my place to ask or say anything. I figured when you were ready, you’d say something.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Wait… when did you find out?” Jason raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Well, you see… It wasn’t that hard. At the beginning of our relationship when I’d tell you, ‘Hey, I’m going out with my friends tonight,’ and then coincidentally, when something happened—because it’s Gotham, let's be honest—there you were, Red Hood, swooping in to save the day. Always fleeting, never lingering too long. But what was really odd was that both Red Hood and my new boyfriend had the exact same walk style. Not to mention, Jay, mask or no mask, costume or no costume, I could still recognize you. Even in a crowded room.”

Jason just stood there, stunned. How had he missed all the signs? A part of him was relieved, he didn’t have to keep lying, but another part of him couldn’t believe he had been so obvious. You were too sharp for him to pull anything past you. And to think he was under the impression he had you fooled…

As he looked at you, he realized there was more to your patience than just waiting for him to confess. You’d known, but you’d never pushed him. It made him wonder how long you had really been aware. But now that it was out in the open, Jason found himself surprised by how easy the weight of the secret seemed to fall away. He’d been carrying it for so long, and yet, with you, there was no judgment, no shock. Just acceptance.

"You've always been patient with me," he murmured, his voice soft but grateful.

You gave him a warm, knowing smile, stepping closer. "Because I know you, Jason. And I know what you're doing matters. It’s a part of who you are, just like everything else."

Tim was stressed, but to be fair, Tim was always stressed. You two had been dating for a good while now and had been friends for much longer. However, somehow, he still hadn’t brought up the whole vigilante thing. Maybe it was because he was scared, or maybe it was due to his own selfishness. For once, he just wanted someone to see him as Tim and only Tim. But the truth was, he couldn’t exist without Red Robin. He knew that. And it had been too long. He knew he had to say something. But… does he?

Still, something didn’t sit right with him. It was the way you weren’t questioning him anymore on why he was always so tired, why sometimes he had to be gone for an entire week or why he trained so intensely. His physique, though not the most built, was still incredibly fit for a “simple rich kid.” And for the life of him, he couldn’t understand if you were just pretending not to notice or if you honestly hadn’t put it together. But when you suggested what costumes to wear for Halloween, he almost passed out on the spot.

“Yeah, I mean, we can do a couple’s costumes or… I don’t know, Tim. We can always go as… hmm? What about we go as vigilantes? I can be Wonder Woman and you can be Red Robin. It’s pretty underground. I’m sure the costume will look great; besides, you already have a good replica in your wardrobe. Fits like a glove, no?”

Like, this had to be a joke, right? Sometimes Tim wondered if his life was some kind of reality show, secretly followed by cameras just to capture his reaction to these weird, questionable moments.

He froze for a moment, staring at you, trying to piece everything together. Was this your way of telling him you knew? Was this a test?

“Uh... you... know?” he asked, his voice betraying a mix of confusion and disbelief.

You look at him confused. “Know what?” You shrugged, casually leaning back in your chair.

Tim blinked, his mind racing. He was smart, very so, but at this very moment he felt like the most ignorant being on planet Earth. He looks at you and you look at him and for a moment there is this unspoken, silent battle.

“You know, that I am Red Robin.” he says, quietly. Eyes searching yours for an answer.

“And what if I do?” you reply back equally quietly.

He had expected a lot of things. Shock, anger, even confusion, but not this calm, almost nonchalant acknowledgment. And yet, a wave of relief washed over him. You weren’t angry or disappointed. You weren’t even all that surprised.

“I’ve always known, Tim,” you continued, your tone softening. “You’ve been dropping clues left and right. The late nights, the cryptic phone calls, the strange bruises... And don’t even get me started on your ‘training’ routines. I never pushed because I knew you’d tell me when you were ready. And now, here we are. Although… I certainly did not imagine it to happen in such a way” you say, letting out a small soft laugh. 

Tim let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging in a way that felt like he’d been carrying a weight for far too long. "I didn’t want to burden you with it. I didn’t want to be Red Robin to you. I just wanted to be... just Tim."

You smiled softly, walking over to hug him. “And you are. You’re Red Robin, sure, but you’re not just that; are you? You’re Tim. My Tim. Two things can coexist at the same exact time, this is just what makes you.. You, ya know?” 

Tim stared at you for a moment, hands around your waist, his mind still processing. It was as if the entire weight of the secret identity he’d been carrying all this time suddenly evaporated. He had been so worried about how you would react, but now that it was out in the open, there was nothing left to hide.

"Thanks," he whispered, his head dropping to your neck. Hiding, but not really. It was more or so a way to feel you even closer. 

Your head gently resting against his, brushing a kiss against his hair. “Always, Tim. You’re still the same guy I fell for. I love you.”

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[purinfelix]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ park sunghoon bf headcanons

a/n: maybe im just typical sunghoon bias but y'all cannot tell me he wouldn't be the most perfect bf ..... ANYWAYS i could probably do a pt2 of this just bc i have sooo many thoughts abt this man - or if u want hcs for any other members lmk too!

✦ such a responsible boy, like obviously he has all his own habits but he feels the need to keep them up especially around you

✦ for the first few months of your relationship he wouldn't kiss you first thing in the morning since he insisted his breath stank and would go to brush his teeth (though he grows too weak to your pleading, and gives in easily)

✦ it's this habit of taking care of himself that extends to you, he feels a sense of responsibility for your health and wellbeing

✦ "don't use your phone in the dark, it's not good for your eyes" - "make your bed first thing in the morning, it'll get messy otherwise" - "make sure to drink more water today, it's hot out,"

✦ they might sound like petty scolds or nagging to most but really they're just his way of making sure you're okay and showing that he cares about you, right down to the little things

✦ on that note, the type of boyfriend who is willing to go with you everywhere even if he's just trailing behind you - if it's to the supermarket or even around the block for your morning walk he's keen to come with

✦ a little clingy like that, though has enough self-awareness not to bother you, but he just wants to be around you lots !!

✦ i can definitely see him being an "acts of service" guy like he definitely does things for you without asking, and without even saying anything - like if he sees you struggling he'll help you silently, only turning to smile with satisfaction once he sees the grateful expression on your face

✦ admittedly at first he does do it a little bit so that he can show off in front of you - "they'll think i'm so tall and strong if i help them reach this shelf" is probably his thought process

✦ in that way he's really observant and attentive! like you might not think that he listens to all your rants or when you mention little things but he really takes it all in, also just the best listener ever

✦ tiny little things about your habits, foods you like or dislike or even your preferences when it comes to like what side of the bed to sleep on he learns and they become like second nature to him

✦ but if you ever point out how close he pays attention to you or any of the things he does for you he'll brush it off coolly with some excuse - "i'm only giving you the bigger piece because i'm not that hungry okay?" - even though you know far better

✦ this is because, despite how cool he might seem on the surface, he's not the most forward type, and things like pda or straightforward confessions make him flustered !!!

✦ like the few times he's grabbed your hand in public when you're walking together he physically cannot look at you while he does because he knows how red his face will get - but you can still notice the tips of his pale ears blushing pink

✦ whenever you're alone though he will go to absolutely any lengths to get you back for it and has a special talent of knowing just where to kiss you or what to whisper in your ear to get to you

✦ sometimes he tries reciting old cheesy romantic lines but he gets too shy or embarrassed to finish them

✦ like if you watch a romcom with him he'll be all sulky talking about how unrealistic it is and how corny the dialogue is, but give it a couple days and you'll notice him trying to act smooth like the main man

✦ also the kind of boyfriend who finds joy in teasing you lightly

✦ always saying things like "what would you do without me?" or "aren't you so lucky to have such a good boyfriend?" jokingly whenever he helps you out

✦ but if you were to ever try to get him back by saying something like "oh but you're so in love with me aren't you?" he'll just respond back slyly with "and what if i am?" or something and watch with a smirk as you take in his suddenly shameless words

✦ he's said it himself but he's really protective and possessive type (thinking about his reaction to the viral perilla leaf debate)

✦ though he's careful never to blame you for anything - because he isn't insecure about your relationship or how you feel, he's more worried about others having their eye on you

✦ really patient - definitely the kind of boyfriend who lets you do whatever you want like squish his face or bite his arm without even acknowledging it

✦ though he also definitely tests your patience once he gets comfortable enough and once he knows he can be weird around you - like he really is the loudest introvert if you give him the opportunity !!

[azzibuckets]

sweet [part one]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: a very sweet story of paige and azzi from best friends to lovers 🥰

a/n: lowkey came up with this on a whim bc yall know how much i love angsty pazzi…probably gonna make this into a short series so lmk if you all want another part :)

word count: 1.4k

masterlist

“Ella said she’s worried about you.”

As Paige hovers over her, propped up by a pillow on one side, Azzi thinks that Ella might not have been as dumb as she’d thought. Here she is, with her best friend, in only a sports bra and sweats so low that they’re barely clinging onto her hips. The best friend in question is leaning on her elbow, one hand splayed across Azzi’s bare abdomen, a smirk on her face as soft strands of blonde hair tickle the younger girl’s face.

Azzi slots her leg in between Paige’s, drawing her impossibly closer. “Why would she ever say that?” She asks teasingly, the corner of her lips tugging up.

Paige’s smirk grows dangerous. Her eyes drag down Azzi’s body, doing a slow perusal of Azzi’s chest. “This doesn’t look close to you?”

Azzi tilts her head, batting her big brown eyes under her full eyelashes. “Who cares? I mean, it’s not like you two are dating or anything.” But knowing Paige’s tendency to hide sensitive topics from her until the last moment, her tone drops. “Are you?”

“No.” Paige laughs. “Just fucking around.” Her hands slide lower down Azzi’s stomach, until her thumb is caressing the dip of her V-line.

Azzi holds her breath, trying to ignore the fire uncurling in her stomach. “Does it mean anything to you?”

“I don’t know.” Paige withdraws her hand, replacing it with her head as she settles on Azzi’s chest with a sigh. The action is so casual, so familiar that it makes Azzi’s heart hurt. Sex with Paige is one thing. Intimacy like this, where she can feel her bare skin against Paige’s, feel Paige’s heartbeat, as they lie together, legs intertwined and breaths in sync? That’s a whole other ballpark.

“I don’t even know what we’re doing,” Paige admits, her voice slightly muffled as she speaks into Azzi’s chest. “She confuses me.”

Azzi almost scoffs out loud at the irony. Paige hs always been hot and cold, flirting with Azzi one moment and giving her a look that Azzi swears is only reserved for her, but chatting it up with another girl at the bar the next. It feels like a constant back and forth with her best friend. Sometimes it feels like Paige has her heart on a pendulum, has been since she was 16, yet lately it’s felt like it’s been ricocheting out of control, the string slowly turning into a thread.

“I think she thinks I’m in love with you or some shit.” Paige has been yapping for the last few minutes as Azzi’s lost herself in her thoughts, but it’s this sentence, thrown out so callously, that freezes her blood. “Which is, like ridiculous, you know?”

Azzi struggles to catch her next breath. But Paige has turned her head and is looking at her now, expecting her to say something, so she forces out a dry laugh. “Yeah,” she mutters. Clearing her throat, she forces herself to steady her voice. “No yeah, that’s crazy.” Azzi is confident - she knows she’s drop dead gorgeous, knows she could mess around with as many guys or girls as she’d want. And she knows full well the effect she has on Paige, how the older girl always goes speechless whenever she’s in that pink lingerie set, unable to keep her hands off her ass even when she’s covered head to toe in an unflattering sweat suit. Yet something about her has never been good enough for Paige, for her to want to call Azzi hers.

Seemingly pleased with her answer, Paige plops back down. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” she says decisively.

Azzi lies there for a second before checking her phone. The only notification she has is from PT. She needs to come earlier than usual tomorrow for another progress test. Azzi swallows. “It’s getting pretty late,” she says.

“What?” Paige checks her own phone. “It’s only ten.”

“I know, but it’s been a long day. My knee hurts.”

Paige’s bright blue eyes round in concern as she quickly gets off her best friend, scrambling to sit criss cross on the bed. “Was I hurting it? Lying on you? Shit, Az, you should’ve told me.”

“No,” Azzi waves her best friend off. “It’s just throbbing. I think I just need to take some meds and sleep.”

Paige frowns. “Okay.” She pads out of the room, returning a few moments later with a bag of frozen peas and Azzi’s pink Stanley. “Here. And I moved the Advil to the top drawer of your bedside table right there.”

“Thank you.”

Paige falters. Usually Azzi asks her to stay, to scratch her back until she falls asleep or just hold her as she grits through the pain. “Do you need anything else?”

Azzi doesn’t even look at her. Sliding on her headphones, she shakes her head.

“Okay.” Azzi ignores the hurt and confusion in Paige’s voice. The blonde wears her heart on her sleeve. “Night.”

“See you.”

Paige turns off the lights and shuts the door, and Azzi feels the darkness like never before.

••

8:15 pm, January 8 2024

P: yooo

P: we talked for like hours and i think we’re going somewhere

P: i think im gonna ask her to be my gf

A: oh shit Paige

A: that’s great

A: happy for you 💗

P: i’ll be over in 20 min

P: have you eaten? i had dinner w ella but i can pick up some food for you if you’re hungry?

A: can’t do movie night tonight P

A: knee’s hurting

A: next week?

P: oh okay

P: i hope it feels better

P: don’t forget to use your compression sleeve

P: i doordashed you some food from chikfila, lmk if you want anything else

A: thanks paige

5:27 am, January 14 2024

A: hey where are you?

5:32 am

A: we gotta leave soon or i’ll be late

5:40 am

A: Paige???

Missed call from Azzi💗

Missed call from Azzi💗

A: nvm i’ll just take an uber

8:15 am

P: shit Azzi

P: i’m so sorry

P: i told aubrey to tell you that i couldn’t take you to rehab but she must’ve forgotten

P: i should’ve just texted you

A: it’s good

A: where you at?

P: impromptu trip to nyc

P: ella wanted to go to the knicks game

A: nice

A: hope you had fun

P: how was rehab?

P: any updates?

1 pm

P: dude look

Attachment: 1 Image

P: reminds me of belarus

P: i remember you were so fucking wasted lmfaoo

5:45 pm

P: are you ghosting me now

P: jk

P: but fr

P: you good??

6:45 pm

A: sorry still at pt

A: there’s an issue with the healing in my tissue or something they said

P: i’ll be there to take you to your next appointment i swear

A: actually i was thinking

A: it’s probably better if i just take an uber from now on

A: it’s a four hour round trip and you’re stuck waiting for me during the appointment too

P: it’s not an inconvenience

P: i like talking to your doctors

P: janelle was just getting to the part where she broke up with her bf

A: paige

A: i overheard ella complaining about it the other day

A: you’re getting up at 5 am every saturday to spend 7 hrs with your ex fwb

A: it’s not fair to either of you guys to take up your time like that

P: well when you word it like that ..

P: but you’re still my best friend

P. and ubers are expensive as hell

P: you’re seriously not gonna let me take you?

A: you’re gonna be thanking me once you realize how nice it is to sleep in on saturdays

P: i like spending time with you more than sleeping

Read 6:58 pm

9:40 pm, January 23 2024

P: hey sorry i meant to stop by yours before ted’s but ella needed to change

P: we’re in the back near the pool tables

9:55 pm

P: you’re coming right?

10:40 pm

A: don’t feel too good

A: i’ll just stay in and watch a movie or smthn

A: go have fun

P: bro

P: don’t be boring

P: u haven’t gone out with us in so long

P: i never even see u anymore

A: you can’t be serious rn

A: drinking with everyone after another win i couldn’t even contribute to is the last fucking thing i wanna do tonight

A: i thought you of all people would understand

A: but apparently not

P: I’m sorry

P: I didn’t mean to say that

5 minutes later

P: I miss you

P: Can I come over right now?

A: it’s fine

A: didn’t mean to snap im just tired

A: you’re with your gf and the team you deserve to celebrate

A: you did great tonight i’m proud of you

A: don’t worry ab me

P: i always worry about you

Read 11 pm

12:40 am

P: dude idk what the fuck happened but you’re so weird all the time now

P: do you hate me

P: am i stupid

P: jk

P: think i took too many shots

P: was tryna keep up with nika

P: i miss youuuuuuu

P: so much

P: i wish you’d let me come over

P: don’t tell ella but i kinda miss how things used to be

P: when we were just fucking around

P: now she’s so uptight ab me and you

P: but it’s whatever

P: shit i’m sorry az

P: i was hella drunk last night lmfao

P: ignore everything i said

Read 11 am

[whtepony]

NSFW ALPHABET | eijiro kirishima

ft. eijiro kirishima x afab reader

warnings: no pronouns used but reader has a vagina, cucking, i think that might be it? this one isn’t too crazy y’all!! not proofread!

notes: for everyone who asked for kiri!!! he’s so husband material aghhhhhdbdndjdj hope u guys enjoy

aftercare: what he’s like after sex

i think he’s one of the most attentive partners you could have! he asks you directly what he can do for you while he’s cleaning you up a bit with a warm towel. he’ll give you anything you ask for, whether it be food, water, a shower, something funny to watch, or to just cuddle and be together. he likes to massage your hips while you spoon just in case he hurt you (even if you tell him a dozen times he didn’t). he just wants to make sure!!

body part: his fav on you and his fav on himself

on himself, eijiro likes his back and shoulders. he puts in a lot of time at the gym and it shows! he’s very proud of it and loses his mind if you compliment his back muscles. god damn. on you, he likes your legs - yeah, mostly your thighs, but really all of your legs. he loves when you wear things that show them off and has a tendency to kiss you from your ankles alllllll the way up before he eats you out. he has a picture of him laying between your thighs that was definitely his lock screen for a long while.

cum: anything to do with cum

eijiro is a smart man. unless you’re actively trying for a baby or it’s a really special occasion, he avoids cumming inside you so you have a lower chance of any surprises. but goddd if it isn’t his favorite thing in the world. he enjoys finishing on your ass or stomach but nothing compares to how it feels to paint your insides. he thinks it’s partly a possessive thing - seeing his cum drip out of you makes him feel like only he could ever do this, like he’ll be the only one to ever claim you that way. asks you soooo politely to take a picture on the few occasions it does happen and keeps them in a hidden folder that he opens when he’s missing you.

dirty secret: a dirty secret of his

he secretly would like to be cucked but doesn’t think it’d be emotionally healthy for him, so he never brings it up. he’s actually very possessive and probably couldn’t handle sharing you like that. but every once in a while, he’ll fantasize about watching katsuki fuck you in front of him, only to shake the thought from his head immediately afterwards. he’s more likely to bring up a threesome than to ever bring up this fantasy of his, because then he could be involved in some way - he’d have some sense of control then. as hot as it could be, he’s worried that his best friend would fuck you better!

experience: how experienced is he?

you’re definitely not his first, but there haven’t been very many before you. i’d say he’s probably had three or four previous partners and he clearly learned a lot from being with them! he’s a very attentive lover and a quick learner. he pays attention to what you like and don’t like, and he’ll check in with you often to make sure you’re enjoying yourself.

favorite position: self explanatory

he is a doggy and prone bone LOVERRR. literally anything that lets him look at and grab your ass. he’s an ass man and these give him a great view!! he loves how deep he can get in either position, and especially likes being able to put his full weight on top of you in prone bone. he won’t hurt you, but he knows you like being pressed up against each other like that and it gives him easy access to kiss your neck n talk in your ear. it also makes him feel hugeee bc he easily covers your entire body.

goofy: is he more funny or serious in the moment?

i think he’s a good mix of both! he loves to make you laugh but is capable of completely ruining you in the next second. he’s aware that sex is kinda funny sometimes and will take advantage of that (especially if something isn’t going as planned) but not to the point where it ruins the mood.

hair: anything to do with grooming

he doesn’t shave but keeps it in check. he keeps it trimmed fairly short and is pretty good about maintaining it, but he doesn’t mind shaving if you ask him to. he couldn’t care less about whether or not you shave bc either way he is IN THEREE. truly does not have a preference and will tell you how pretty you look no matter what. he just wants you to feel confident in yourself, so he likes whatever you like!

intimacy: how is he with the romantic aspect?

he is very tender and loving. not to be mistaken with gentle. he could be fucking the life out of you but you can still tell he’s doing it with soooo much adoration for you. this man worships the ground you walk on. he kisses every inch of your skin and tells you how incredibly beautiful you are to him because he means it! eijiro is the number one loverboy and plans out super romantic sex for anniversaries and your birthday. he’s the type of man to hit you with the trail of rose petals and candlelight before fucking your brains out just because he loves you!

jack off: anything to do with masturbation

he has a pretty high sex drive so depending on how much he gets to see you, he jerks off fairly often. he doesn’t like porn but has an album in his phone full of pictures you’ve sent him or the two of you together. sometimes if he knows you’re not busy but can’t be with you for some reason he’ll call you for phone sex because the sound of your voice helps him get off. bonus points if you’re touching yourself at the same time

kink: a kink of his

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again. eijiro kirishima has a size and strength kink. he LOVES being bigger than you and showing off his strength in bed. a big fan of a mating press because it’s just so easy to fold you in half! even if you’re tall or plus sized he is so so strong and the way he handles you makes it seem like you’re tiny. he’s also like. huge. so you probably are small compared to him, no matter what. this extends to how big his dick is as well - he’s thick and seeing the way you literally stretch around him drives him insane.

location: his favorite place to do it

eiji just likes to have you in bed, away from anyone else’s eyes or other distractions. he likes having the space to kinda toss you around and wants you to be as comfortable as possible. he’s okay with other places around your place if you live together, but ultimately he’s gonna want to have you in bed, which also makes aftercare and cleanup easier!

motivation: what gets him going

uh, the wind? anything you do has this man bricked up. wearing his clothes? doing your makeup? talking? laughing? bending over? kissing him? he’s ready. everything you do is sexy to him. he does especially love when you initiate though; you coming to him and letting him know you’re in the mood will always do it for him. he likes to feel wanted by you, so tell him you want him! if you come up behind him while he’s doing something and start rubbing his shoulders while you whisper in his ear he will take you to bed as soon as humanly possible.

no: something he won’t do

i feel like he isn’t into degradation at all. he thinks it doesn’t feel natural and why would he want to be mean to you anyway? he doesn’t mean any of that, so why would he say it? the most you could get out of him is him calling you a slut or something but even then it takes some convincing and he’ll only do it if he’s absolutely positive you want it. he has moral qualms with slut shaming and doesn’t really like calling you anything in that vain 😭

oral: preference giving or receiving

d1 eater. munch. face seat. this guy loves eating pussy and genuinely could die happy between your thighs. he likes receiving, don’t get me wrong, but he absolutely adores making you cum on his tongue. he’s waking you up with it and putting you to sleep with it. if he grew facial hair he’d be one of those guys that has bleached patches because he is just alwayyyssss eating you out. he likes having you sit on his face and will pull you down onto his mouth if you start to lift your hips. argue with the wall he is a MUNCH!

pace: fast, slow, stamina, etc

i think his stamina is pretty average and he tends to go fast and deep. his strokes are consistent and he’s good at pacing himself so he won’t get too tired before he can make you cum. he never ever finishes before you because he’s a gentleman! he usually is done after one round but if you want more he’s happy to use his mouth and fingers until you’re satisfied.

risk: is he game to experiment or take risks?

he has no problem trying new things but it’s usually something brought up by you. he knows what he likes and doesn’t typically feel the need to switch things up unless you express that desire. he isn’t particularly risky (e.g public sex) but he’s happy to experiment privately! sometimes he’ll see a tiktok or tweet about something you haven’t tried together and send it to you in case it was something you were afraid to bring up. he wants you to be able to tell him about the things you’re curious about so you can try them together, and he isn’t particularly bothered if it doesn’t work out!

stamina: how many rounds can he go?

like i said he’s usually satisfied after one round but on occasions where he’s particularly excited or pent up he can go two or (rarely) three rounds. you guys have sex often so he usually doesn’t feel the need to go several rounds, and he also gets overstimulated pretty easily, so he needs a little bit of downtime in between!

toys: does he own toys? does he use them?

he owns one fleshlight from before you got together but hardly ever uses it. once in a blue moon if you’ve been apart for a long time he’ll bring it out but he usually doesn’t feel the need to. he doesn’t mind using toys together but i don’t think he necessarily goes out of his way to do so! but uh if he catches you using one he’s finishing you off with it before fucking you himself.

unfair: how much does he like to tease?

eijiro kinda spoils you but he doesn’t really care. in his eyes, you deserve it! he doesn’t tease you too much because if you even give him the slightest signal that you want something he’s folding immediately. he just wants to make you happy! he’s not a fan of orgasm denial, he much prefers to overstimulate you if anything.

volume: how loud is he?

like i said before he’s all in your ear lmao. i wouldn’t say he’s loud but he’s very vocal. he moans so so so pretty and gets louder when he cums. he’s fairly talkative as well, he tells you alllll about how good your pussy feels and how good you’re taking him. he’s capable of being quiet but why would he be? he wants you to know how good you make him feel so why would he ever hold it back? he doesn’t understand guys who are quiet in bed and never has. he loves to tell you how much he adores you when he’s giving you the dicking down of the century and he thinks it’s cute when you get all flustered from it!

wild card: random headcanon

he whines if you pull his hair. that’s it.

x-ray: what’s going on underneath those clothes?

whew. 6.7 inches hard and sooo thick and heavy. slightly thicker just below the tip. he has a few prominent veins and it’s so so pretty just like the rest of him!! his tip is slightly pink and tbh he leaks a lot of pre, especially when you start touching him. he’s just gorgeous. i can’t even explain it.

yearning: how high is his sex drive?

high!! his love language is physical touch and this definitely extends into your sex life. he’s crazy about you and genuinely always wants to be touching you. if you’re living together, you probably have sex four or five times a week on average; he specifically makes time for it, even if your schedules clash. he wants you to know how much he appreciates you and shows it through world ending orgasms

zzz: how fast does he fall asleep afterwards?

he gets a short little burst of energy directly afterwards, which he uses to clean up and get you taken care of in any way you might need. but honestly, he is crashing not long after. he puts a lot of effort in! once he’s sure you’re comfortable he is knocked tf out in minutes and sleeps like the dead. he gets great sleep because if you’re around, you’re basically fucking each other to sleep most nights!

[100vern]

hang up if u want to | kmg

he's in japan. you're at home, knowing there's no point in staring at your phone, waiting. mingyu might not wanna define what the two of you are, but that certainly doesn't stop him from asking for what he wants.

pairing: idol!mingyu x f. reader genre: situationship au; a lil angst, smut warnings: swearing. sexting — use of gendered terms for genitalia, mentions of oral and penetrative sex, masturbation, images/videos, dirty talk i guess?, squirting. one mention of reader wearing a dress. another mention of reader wearing mingyu’s shirt and it being large on her. (not meant to be an indication of size—that mf is just so large i think most people would drown in his clothes.) mingyu is domineering and kind of brat tamer-y but i wouldn't say this is dom-y at all. he also uses the term "baby" a lot bc i refuse to use y/n. rating: explicit. minors dni. wordcount: 3.6k listen to: namasenda - dare (pm) / khalid, 6lack, ty dolla $ign - otw / keshi - like i need u / edward maya & vika jigulina - stereo love / monsta x - addicted / brockhampton - sugar / shy martin - good together author's note: hello, i barely text men let alone sext them, so if this sucks my bad. i'm also not 100% comfy for writing any groups outside of bts, so i'm also sorry if the characterization is off. the mingyu brainrot was brainrotting tho bc if there's one thing he's gonna do it's look hot holding his phone in a photo, so. here we are. i was gonna wait and post this tomorrow but it's valentine's day so fuck it we ball. thank you: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, & @effortandmore for checking this over and brainstorming with me. namasenda for the lyrics in the title and inspo.

Kim Mingyu Missed Call (2)

Your eyes glance upwards at the time. It’s nearing one a.m.; Mingyu’s second call came and went only a few minutes ago. The first one will have come not long after he got off stage, because they always do. There’s a script—unspoken and unacknowledged, but a script nonetheless—and Mingyu follows it religiously.

You sigh. Leave your phone on your nightstand as you change into pajamas, back into the bathroom to wash your face. Roll your eyes as you hear the texts roll in, the sound grating and ominous as it vibrates against the wood.

All part of the script.

Kim Mingyu: just got back to the hotel Kim Mingyu: you up

Also part of the script: this is the only way it goes. Maybe Mingyu wants to text you, but adrenaline’s the only reason he ever goes through with it. That post-concert high, nothing else to do with all that energy but invest it into you, and the thing about scripts is that they get old, grow stale. Always the same thing, and you can only have that conversation so many times before you get tired and rip it up.

We all have roles to play. Mingyu is the one who refuses to define what it is the two of you have, put a label on it. He’s the one who calls from countries away and speaks in that low, hushed tone. He’s the tempter, the one who holds all the cards but refuses to lay them down.

A royal flush, every single time.

And you—you’re not helpless. Not some poor creature fighting for its life in a spun-silk web. Mingyu’s capable of devouring you in more ways than one, but it’s not like that. Not really. As laissez-faire as he is, you come and go as you please, too. Perhaps it’s as mutually beneficial as it is destructive, but that’s the nature of the production; the result of the roles you two of you play.

Kim Mingyu: you ignoring me? Kim Mingyu: i saw your ig story Kim Mingyu: knock it off baby

You smile, private and sardonic, because you aren’t helpless. Sometimes it’s your web, and it’s all Mingyu can do to keep his head above water. Another role you’d borrowed from someplace else but still have memorized. Still remember all the lines, the mannerisms.

On your story: a video of you, bare skin glittering beneath the golden-fluorescent light of your bathroom; you, with your dress unzipped, the straps slipping down your arms; your hand pressed to your chest to keep yourself covered. Your back turned to the camera, visible only in the mirror, as the silk dropped to the floor.

In the settings: only two accounts given permission to see, both belonging to the same person.

In your DMs: Mingyu, on his private account with the username that looks more like a keysmash than any legible thing, reacting with the fire emoji.

Related: the image hovering just above Mingyu’s texts. The one he’d repaid you with not long after seeing your story. A mirror selfie of his own: grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, a soaked-through white t-shirt stuck to his stomach, the lines of his abs visible.

That, and everything below it—all left unanswered.

The thing about Mingyu is he’ll give chase. Doesn’t shy away from all the things he wants; isn’t shy about giving voice to them.

But he’ll never, ever beg.

(Not like this, at least. When he’s in your bed it’s always a different story. He’s a kept man, there, and kept men have no qualms about things like that. Begging for your mouth, your pussy. Begging you to let him come.)

Normally you’d let it go. Let him talk to himself in your texts, because he’s got a lot of nerve if nothing else, but you’d gone out earlier. Grabbed a few drinks with your girlfriends, let the alcohol thrum through you like a livewire. Watched as they danced with men whose names they didn’t know and never learned and thought about what it’d be like to be able to do something like that in public.

Got home, felt a little scorned, just on the edge of bitter. Made a show of taking your dress off in the bathroom mirror and posted it someplace you knew he’d look.

You: did you like it?

Rhetorical. Mingyu may not want to put a label on this thing, might not want to be caged-in and suffocated, but you know what you do to him. All the ways you affect him.

i could tell you, comes the immediate reply, and your eyes are halfway rolled when—

Kim Mingyu: or i could show you

It takes a second to come through, but once it does your breath hitches in your throat. Far from the most obscene image he’s ever sent you, but just as effective. An expanse of tanned, soft skin, lean muscle; still in those same grey sweats, bunched up a little on the thigh as he lays in his plush hotel bed with his legs spread.

At the center of it all, the outline of his hard, thick cock, so fucking big as it stretches the fabric taut.

All you can do is stare.

Mingyu is not of this earth. This thought is nothing new: he has always existed outside the realm of possibility, in more ways than one, so this is merely a fact. Grass is green, the sky is blue, sometimes you can love someone in a way that’s so overwhelming and still be no good for them.

Another fact: it’s primal, the way you need him. Always has been.

You: what am i looking at? You: new sweatpants?

On the other end of the line, it’s easy to imagine his reaction. A quick snort of laughter, tongue pressed into the fat of his cheek before he clenches his jaw. If he were here, he’d haul you into his lap, kiss you deep and messy. Trail his fingers along your skin until they settled in the hollow of your throat.

Pull away just for a second. Just long enough to say, “Watch your mouth,” before he’s licking into it.

Kim Mingyu: don’t be like that 🙄

This time your eyes fully roll. Spitefully, you snap a picture of what’s in front of you: your bedroom wall, some drama playing on the TV, a sliver of amber light from the lamp next to you.

You send it.

You: while we’re sending pictures of irrelevant shit

Truth be told, you’re not like this often, but you get a streak of it every now and then. Only ever at times like this, when the two of you haven’t seen one another in a while and the distance between you is still so ambiguous, untitled.

Usually Mingyu will come by your place. Get you stripped down to almost nothing, have you writhing on his fingers. Then, in between satisfied groans, he’ll slap at your thighs, tell you to stop being a brat.

Kim Mingyu: then send me something worthwhile You: you first

Another beat of silence. Long enough to flick through the channels, plug in your phone, let some of that heat dissipate.

Your phone chimes, and when you look down—

Those grey sweats are long gone, replaced with a pair of black briefs barely containing his cock, still hard and curved toward his stomach. You swallow. Let your eyes linger on the corded muscle of his thighs, all that soft skin. Let your mind remind you, just for a second, how it feels beneath your fingertips, your hands, your mouth.

All the sounds he makes.

Kim Mingyu: is that better Kim Mingyu: is that what you wanted

Unbidden, the corners of your mouth lift. hm… close but no, you type out. Let it sit for a few seconds before you delete it. If Mingyu wants to be a tease, you can do the same.

You situate yourself against the pillows. Angle your phone so the length of your body is visible: your bare legs twisted in the sheets, the bruise Mingyu had sucked into the inside of your thigh before he left just barely making it into the frame. What’s fully visible, though: his shirt that’s draped over your frame, how much it engulfs you, the way you’re drowning in it. In him.

You send it.

You: depends... is this what you wanted?

The response is immediate:

Kim Mingyu: absolutely not. take it off baby.

You’ve starred in this production before, knew where it was headed the second you saw the missed calls, so you’d put on his favorite of your underwear. Skimpy red lace, part of a set he’d had sent to your apartment. Used to tell you in desperate whispers how ruined he was seeing you in them; used to have to rein himself in so he didn’t rip them off.

So you snap another photo. Spread your legs a little further, pull the hem of Mingyu’s shirt between your teeth. Know seeing that sliver of your stomach will drive him crazy, too, but it’ll pale in comparison to the underwear.

You consider video calling him. Want to see his face when you send this photo—the pinch of his brows, the slight drop of his jaw. The way he’ll whimper a little, say baby in that tone that floods you with heat: a little desperate, all hushed awe, bordering on a whine.

The same kind of heat that starts to creep back in again. There’s power in desire, in being desired, and even though you’re here and Mingyu’s in a hotel room in Japan, you can still feel it. Subconscious, like some kind of red string shit. Anticipatory.

Kim Mingyu: goddamn Kim Mingyu: you wear those for me? Kim Mingyu: fuck, i wish i was there to take them off of you

You suck in a breath. and if you were? you send back.

Kim Mingyu: you know that pair is my favorite Kim Mingyu: drives me crazy every time you wear that set Kim Mingyu: but i’ve changed my mind. i want you to keep them on Kim Mingyu: want you to keep my shirt on too You: yeah? you want me to wear your shirt while you fuck me? pull my panties to the side? Kim Mingyu: slow down baby, i’m taking my time with you

In your bed, you snort to yourself. Mingyu has never been patient with anything, but especially not with you. Most of the time he’s so keyed up, wound so tight, that it’s all the two of you can do to make it to your bed—and sometimes you don’t. Sometimes Mingyu puts all that body to use, presses your back to the wall and throws your legs over his shoulders as he eats you out. Wraps your legs around him as he fucks you right there, the slide so, so easy with how wet and messy he gets you.

You remind him of as much. Type out, you? taking your time? i’ve got a couple walls in my entryway that would say differently, and laugh when the reply comes through—can’t help myself sometimes—and promptly stop laughing at the next one: never can, with you.

Kim Mingyu: have i ever told you what i love the most? Kim Mingyu: just kissing you. you always taste so good, baby Kim Mingyu: the way you get so worked up and start grabbing at me when i’m doing it. the way you try to get me to touch you. the way you start grinding your pussy on me like you can’t go another second without me inside you

You feel like you’re on fire. Gets worse with every word you read and re-read, try to commit to memory. You know it all too well, what he’s talking about. Know how warm his skin is, how firm he feels under your touch. Know what he tastes like. How soft his lips are. The way he sounds when you start to writhe, the way he groans when he presses tighter against you, presses you into the mattress, hard cock rutting against you, enough to take the edge off but nowhere near what he needs.

You: love that too You: love when you’re inside me even more

Kim Mingyu: me too baby Kim Mingyu: love the way you feel around me Kim Mingyu: always so fucking tight Kim Mingyu: ffuck

Your stomach drops at his last message. are you touching yourself? you type, even though you already know the answer. Another sight you’re blessed to know: Mingyu’s hand wrapped around himself, how the size of his cock makes it look small in comparison. Head tilted back, abs flexing under the weight of the pleasure.

You get a singular character in reply: 응.

show me.

He doesn’t respond right away. The pause is enough to have anticipation thrumming through your veins, make you a little shaky. Your hand trembles as you trace patterns into your warm, soft skin, pretending it’s Mingyu’s touch and not your own. Pretend it’s Mingyu’s hand that grabs at your breast beneath his shirt, thumbs over your nipple; Mingyu’s touch that has soft gasps escaping you. Pretend it’s Mingyu’s hand that dips beneath the hem of your panties.

Kim Mingyu Attachment: 1 Movie

On the screen: Mingyu’s face greets you first, eyes half-lidded and hazy, the corners of his mouth lifted in a smirk. He tilts his head back, lets you see the sweat-slick skin of his neck, the column of his throat; pans the camera down over his collar bones, his bare chest, before he flips the screen. Can barely fit the entirety of his frame in the shot, and it strikes you someplace deep, how big he is. How overwhelming.

You suck in a breath as your eyes focus—as you take in the way he’s stroking himself. His cock glistens with whatever lube he’d indulged in, but you can’t help but pretend it’s from you and your mouth. Wish you could see the way he’d touch himself as you sucked him nearly to orgasm and told him to finish himself off. The way he’d whine, beg a little, get a little shitty with you.

“Fuck,” you say out loud. You can feel your pupils blow at the thought.

“Jagiya,” comes Mingyu’s voice, intertwined with the sounds of the tv, a city so far away from you, “fuck, I’m so fu-fucking hard.”

If you’d thought you were on fire before, it’s nothing compared to now. Hearing the need in his voice, watching the way he’s touching himself. The way his hips stutter as his body seeks out more, more, more, always more, and the way he squeezes the base of his cock so he doesn’t come too soon.

“Wish it was you. Wish it was you touching me like this. I—fuck, need you so bad.”

You watch as Mingyu strokes over the head of his cock, as each subsequent pass gets more tacky and wet. Lick your lips at the sight of it. Want, more than anything, to get your mouth on him and taste the salt of his skin, the precome he’s jerking himself off with.

Before he even needs to ask, you start recording a video of your own. Leave your panties on because you know he’d want you to. Record the first pass of your fingers through your slick, let out a disbelieving little laugh at how wet you are, how you can hear it. Moan as you dip a finger into your cunt, just to the first knuckle. Say, “I’m so wet, Gyu, oh my god,” all breathy.

Not all that different from how you sound when he’s here. When he’s flesh and blood and right beside you, on top of you.

You use the wetness you’ve gathered and move your hand to your clit. It’s throbbing beneath your touch, your body already wound too tight, and you nearly hiss in oversensitivity and relief when you finally touch yourself the way you’ve wanted to. “Fuck.”

You force yourself to take your time. Slow, small circles, when everything in your body is screaming to be selfish, begging for release the same way Mingyu’s had.

“Should I finger myself?” you ask. A sharp inhale as your next pass has your toes curling. “Wo-won’t feel as good as you, but I need—need more.”

Before you cut the video, you zoom in a little. Make sure Mingyu will be able to see the way you’re touching yourself, be able to hear the sound of your arousal, the same sounds that have warmth blooming in your cheeks.

Kim Mingyu: jesusf fuck Kim Mingyu: god baby youre so hto Kim Mingyu: wanna see you finger yourself Kim Mingyu: please

It’s a little embarrassing, how incapable you are of denying him anything. You trust him implicitly, love him even more, so it’s second nature to give in, to adjust your phone so you don’t have to hold it. Second nature to press record, pull your panties to the side just like you’d proposed earlier; second nature to make a show of sticking two fingers in your mouth, sucking on them, before bringing them to your entrance and easing them inside.

Nothing compared to the stretch of Mingyu, both his fingers and his cock, but it’s still good. Enough to have you sighing softly, barely audible over the sound of everything else: the rustling of your sheets, the low thrum of your own television, you in general.

A rhythmic song and dance. Practiced. You grow wetter with each push and pull; know Mingyu will be able to see it, the way you work yourself open. That, too, has you a little dizzy. Breathless. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you. Not only like this, but all the time. Does he see an expiration date? Something good while it lasted? Is there just this—something carnal and superficial?

Or does he just see you?

It drives you crazy. Inspires something within you: not just the desire to please him, make it worth his while, but to be something else, something more than this. Has your fingers moving a little faster, has you grinding your clit against the palm of your hand. Has you a whining, writhing mess; has sounds spilling out that you aren’t sure you’ve ever heard come out of you.

You send it before you can overthink it. Whatever Mingyu sees in you, at least these are the images that’ll play in his mind whenever he thinks of you. At least you’ve sunk your claws into him.

Seconds pass in a blur. You’re still on the brink of a mind-numbing orgasm, stuck in this liminal space simply because Mingyu isn’t here, and you know, too, how this goes. Know you aren’t supposed to come without his say-so in the same way he edges himself until he gets yours.

Kim Mingyu: shit shit shit Kim Mingyu: i wish that was me. wanna take you apart like that. wanna finger you while i eat you out, make you squirt all over me again Kim Mingyu: fuck i thin k about that all the time Kim Mingyu: im gonna cum

I think about that all the time.

So do you. You, on your hands and knees, Mingyu eating you out from behind. Bracing yourself against the headboard with one arm, the other one reaching behind you to pull at his hair. You remember how relentless he’d been that night. A man possessed. Disregarded all your breathless pleas, every Mingyu, Gyu, fuck, fuck, Mingyu, baby— that left your mouth. His tongue left your pussy only long enough to say, you can take it, baby before he was right back at it. Before he worked in two fingers alongside his mouth. Before his free hand came down hard on your ass, the sting startling you, making you jerk, forcing you closer to his mouth.

You remember coming with a scream. You remember coming to with Mingyu’s lips to your neck, the sweet way he was speaking to you. You remember the knee-jerk embarrassment you felt when you saw the giant wet spot you’d left on the bed and how quickly it dissipated when Mingyu pressed a kiss to your temple, called you his good girl.

You: you can come, but you know the rule

You move your fingers back to your clit, feel all that pleasure flood back, start in your toes. It’s not long before you’re pulling a blistering orgasm from your body—one that feels like it belongs to Mingyu, wasn’t yours for the taking.

thank you, he replies, right beneath a photo of his abs streaked with cum.

The comedown is jarring. You feel both too big for your body and completely out of sorts now that you’ve fulfilled your role. Now that there’s nothing to do but sit in the stillness of your bedroom, that same drama playing on television, some girl getting her heart broken.

You wonder if Mingyu’s thinking the same. If his body also sags with relief, if the absence of all that tension feels crushing. If the first thought he has in this newfound clarity is also I love you and if he also swallows it down every single time. You wonder if he thinks about his role, if it’s becoming stale and tired.

Because you know what comes next:

Kim Mingyu: i’ll be home soon Kim Mingyu: can i see you

And you also know what you’ll say. After all, you’ve played this role before.

if you've made it this far thank you so much for reading! this is prob not my best work since it's a lil rushed but i needed something to get me out of my slump.

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

[carbonfiction]

i’m a resident jean hater because she’s really not all that (she makes me insecure as hell because she’s tall and slim and i’m short and just a liiiittle bit stout) and plus she only has that hot demure boring energy like wheres the fun in that? boring ahh hell😹plus she’s got a fake ass MD. would logan immediately lose interest in her the second charles hires the new young social studies teacher that prances in with her big framed specs, bouncy fat rack curls and nervous disheveled bubbly personality? she has so many facts on the top of her head from all the wars he fought and what?? he also sees her in the lab??? she has a plant mutation and she dabbles in biology???? AND she was in law school????? so she’s got a mouth on her… and when he finds out by eavesdropping that she’s a virgin and a squirter one night that the girls all confess secrets he loses it, completely tuning out jean’s confessions. he wants to ruin that smart girl 🐱 so bad.

can i please take the 🐳 emoji as an anon because this is my third ask and i’m both the bathtub and glasses anon i LOVE to yap

DEAR ANNNONNN HELLOO!! god im so sorry this took so long to reply to🥲 but you ABSOLUTELY can have🐳!!!

Honest that is so real as a fellow stout girlie (despite being on the slightly taller end)

Personally I just could never get into movie jean for a litany of reasons; i was and still am so much more of a storm and rogue kinda girl. And Especially within dynamics w logan; storm as a relationship interest is everything to me. (Ill never forget or forgive for what they took from us dofp stormverine kiss getting cut)

But logan and a fairly 'innocent' mouthy smart girl??? Oh that man is following like a puppy. He his obsessed.

I feel like he would love a smart girl so much. Theres just something so alluring about someone so confident in their knowledge and skills. not to mention the cocky twang of pride that threads through him whenever he sees you correct someone on a piece of info; never condisending but explaining the actual fact to who whomever got confused. (likely poor scott which instantly wins you extra brownie points bc you?? Gorgeous and smart girl happily correcting scott on a mistake??? His knees are buckled)

But there issss another perk of him having a smart, inexperienced girl.. And thats when he can turn his smart, headstrong princess all dumb.

When simple touches from his fingers, tongue and eventually, cock can all change you from chatty, brainy and sometimes even a little bratty into a babbling, brainless mess soaking through his sheets.

Getting to finally fuck the brains right out of his cleverest girls pretty head by way of her tight puffy cunt? Truly his favorite thing at the end of a long day.

(I rambled my way through this im so sorry- is it even cohesive idk?? but i do have manymanymany thoughts on smart girl reader that i might have to expand on at some stage..)

[moonstruckme]

Omg Mae more Spence please!! I love him ❤️❤️ what about the team is out at the bar after a case and some guy is flirting with reader and not taking no for an answer and spencer steps in even tho it’s out of character for him bc he’s so so jealous

Thanks for requesting :)

cw: minor assault, fictional confirmation that most guys are douchebags

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 926 words

“Right,” JJ says, “so Henry had actually been trying to say ‘fork,’ but of course everyone heard ‘fuck.’” 

You double over, laughter bubbling to the surface even easier than usual with the help of the couple of drinks you’ve had. Garcia has far surpassed you, tears leaking from her eyes as Morgan all but holds her upright. 

“And Will’s mom was…” JJ shakes her head with a smile, taking a sip of her drink. “Well, she was pretty upset. She accused Will of using that language around Henry, because she said he’s always had a potty mouth.” 

“Will?” Garcia cackles. “Our sweet southern beaux? There’s no way.” 

“I don’t know,” Emily muses. “I can see it. But he wouldn’t do it around Henry, for sure.” 

“Actually,” Spencer pipes up, “studies show that many children pick up swear words regardless of their parents’ usage. Even if they don’t know what they mean, most have a vocabulary of thirty to forty offensive words by the time they start school.”

The humor drains from JJ’s face. “Like, kindergarten?”

“Sometimes earlier,” Spencer says, before seeming to realize JJ finds these facts more alarming than fascinating. “I’m sure Henry will have a higher vocabulary than that by the time he gets to that age, though.” he adds hastily. “Probably won’t even need to resort to swear words.” You grin at him, laying your head on his shoulder consolingly. You might not have done it if you were completely sober, but right now it feels like the most natural thing in the world, and Spencer only tenses for a second before relaxing.

It’s Garcia who notices first, stiffening and straightening in her seat, but Hotch is the one to ask, “Can we help you?”

“I think so,” drawls a voice from behind you. “You can give me your friend’s number.”

You turn, finding yourself too close to the man standing with his hand presumptuously on the back of your chair and grinning like your agreement is a done deal. 

“Thanks,” you say, not unkindly, “but I’m not looking for anything.” 

The man tilts his head as if to say come on. “But don’t you just love when you find it anyways?”

“I’m here with my friends.” 

“And I’m not asking you to leave them.” He moves his hand to your shoulder, undeterred when you lean away. “Just give me your number, and next time you can be here with me.” 

“She said she’s not interested.” Emily’s voice is hard. If this guy weren’t so unpleasant, you’d be impressed that he’s still here, with your whole team staring daggers at him. 

The douchebag only smiles. “She didn’t say that, though. Did you, sweetheart?”

Your blood runs hot at his disregard of Emily. A man like this, you know—the assertive, overly masculine type—can be dangerous to piss off. But so can you. “I’m not," you say, finally letting the disgust you’ve been holding back seep into your voice. “Leave us alone.” 

Anger sparks in the man’s eyes, just like you knew it would. You don’t expect your gaze looks much different. His grip on your shoulder tightens as he gets in your face, close enough for you to smell the alcohol on his breath. “I know you don’t mean that.” 

You tense, ready to shake him off you and drag him back to whatever musty corner of the bar he’d come from, but Spencer beats you to it. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” he says, prying the fingers from your shoulder. You stand, a protective instinct moving you in front of Spencer, but he pushes past you, badge outheld. “FBI. Do you really wanna pursue this? Because if so, I’ll have no problem cuffing you and explaining it to the local police.” 

The guy makes like he’s going to dart for you again, but Spencer steps in his way, pushing him back with a hand on his shoulder. His voice is quiet but clear. “Do not touch her.”

“Fuck off,” the guy shakes Spencer’s hand off, stalking away. He’s drunker than you thought, wobbling his way back to the bar. 

“Spence,” you say, taking his hand as though mere contact with the man’s shoulder could hurt it. “You didn’t have to do that, I could have handled it.” 

“You shouldn’t have to,” he replies, pulling back the collar of your shirt distractedly. His fingers skim over tender skin, and you look down to find your shoulder is red where the man had gripped it. It’ll probably be a bruise tomorrow. Spencer’s eyes darken. “I can still arrest him. That’s assault.”

“It’s fine.” You move your shirt back into place, pulling him back to your seats. “I’m fine, really. Sorry about the scene, guys.” 

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Hotch says severely, still eyeing the man from across the room. 

Morgan lets out a low whistle, relaxing back into his seat. “Way to go, wonder boy. Got a little jealous there, did we?”

Spencer lets out a little laugh, though it sounds more strained than usual. “I just did what all of us wanted to do.” 

“Agreed,” Emily says gruffly, toasting with her beer. “I thought I was going to have to go all the way around the table to kick that guy’s ass.” 

You laugh. “I appreciate the support, but I can take care of myself, you know.” You adjust your collar self-consciously, and as soon as you drop your hand back to your lap, Spencer’s taking it in his under the table. 

“Yeah,” he says casually, thumb stroking soothingly at your wrist. “We know.”

[dilf-docs]

Misery Reigns My Lonely Neon Nights

old man!logan x younger fem!reader

summary: logan should've said no. should've just drove the pretty waitress home. that's his job. hers is to serve his cup of coffee to the brim. so why is he riding you to his house?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (cause we have a small daddy kink going on here.. hence the blog name BUT I DO HAVE A GOOD DAD), smut, this reeks of corruption kink for no reason other than me being a virgin whore, like he gets stalker-ish for a second but its logan howlett so we forgive him<3 ya está viejito, brief mention of suicide, sub logan edging on praising kink (if u squint), no protection but u gotta put the hat on the cowboy to ride the horse alr, riding, breeding kink??? angst (the depressing vibes are there cause they follow my writing like a shadow ijbol)

word count: 6,102 words (at the v crack of dawn.. i think i've gone insane FR it's 02:07 am and my brain its eating itself like im gonna start seeing logan in the corner of my room)

side note: newbie here after reading so many fanfics on tumblr but never publishing my own!! its hugh's birthday (well, its past midnight so no more but still!!! it was a couple hours ago) so i figured i should give it a try today cause that man does things to me ESPECIALLY as old man logan i can't lie and say the thought of him fucking me good and slow hasn't crossed my mind too many times 😩 we love sad hot old people in here so naturally my inaguration fic had to be done by him. also, i'm tired of scrapping for votes, comments, and interactions on wattpad so please treat me well during our first:// it's me moving to tumblr it's me hi i'm the problem it's me. i'm a feedback whore so pls leave tons of those!! also, english isn't my first language so if i make a grammar mistake pls do not tell me bc i have no respect for this language ―it just makes me cringe less to write smut on a language that isn't mine lol<3 but if there's any other mistake yes pls do tell me thank u OKAY BYE i needa quit yapping ENJOY dilf town<3

So it started something like this.

It was another simple nightshift for Logan. The weather humid, uncomfortably sticking the fabric of his white button shirt onto his skin. Even with the windows down. Those nights that the driving dragged on for long, like those cigarettes that now made him cough more than relax. The roads felt too long; his eyes too heavy.

Nothing new. Just about what to expect: money short, clients and traffic equally annoying. But that was the problem; nothing was new anymore.

He'd just finish dropping a customer close by, and since the tiring feeling didn't seem to leave his body just yet, a coffee wouldn't hurt. As a matter of fact, the need for a boost to make it home makes him get out of the car and limp his way into the first place his tired vision sees.

The rim of his recently adquired reading glasses slips as he climbs the stairs into the decades old diner, the decoration outdated. He understands; he feels the same way.

Neon lights flash his face when he enters the place and sits in the farthest booth he can find. The air is impregnated in grease and cheap coffee, but he waits at least fifty minutes to order, giving his body some time to rest. In the meanwhile, he tries to distract himself with the newspaper resting on the table, but God knows his eyes are too tired and his mind drifts every two words.

He hopes he doesn't get kicked out, judging from the attentive look he's receiving by a waitress resting on the bar. She looks as bored and tired as he does.

Maybe that's why he chooses her, raising his hand with order in mind. A black coffee. The waitress slides from her position and takes some steps to where he sits.

Her voice is sweet when she introduces herself, and Logan finds himself asking her again what her name is, pretending he's half deaf just to listen to it again.

"It's y/n" you repeat, oh so sickeningly sweet, he might have to skip on asking for sugar.

"Y/n" he savours the name on his lips, trying the tender sound, his eyes darting to the name tag, like he's confirming it. Testing to see if the young woman in front of him is real. Maybe his eyes linger a little too long, and the tip of your ears start to heat. Its the way he examines every feature on your face, like memorizing it in a sense, that makes you squirm. But maybe, just maybe, it's the small―brief, peak he gives to your exposed cleavage, pushing itself against the tight fabric of your uniform what truly gets your heart beating fast.

He looks like what your parents would warn you to stay away and your friends would talk behind your back. Rugged in a way that screams heartbreak, rough around edges your kind nature wishes to soften. It's unresonable to feel this way about a client you just met, but his aloof demeanor peaks your interest, so different from your usual costumers and familiar faces that pop up at the diner.

"Can I order you, darling?" his voice comes out deep, almost passing as a grunt. Just what you imagined it to sound. Why he's acting as his past self so effortlessly, after closing himself off to the point of going by entire days without talking more than three words, is concerning. Why the cute waitress who looks at him with doe eyes, expectant to take his order, is making him break the promise he made to himself not to get attached again―just live by enough to make it to the sea and put a bullet in his head.

"Well, that's just about my job" you joke, feeling confident for no reason. "But you can't order me".

"A damn shame" he chuckles, the sound deep, rumbling on his chest. It's been so long since he's laughed like that: carefree, without that pressing weight on his chest, that despite the sinking notion, sometimes feels more like a hole carved where his heart is supposed to be.

"So..." you trail off, unsure where to proceed after that sound that jolted your entire system awake, "what will you take?"

The banter dies, and Logan is dissapointed when she scribbles the dark coffee on her pretty round letter and walks away. He doesn't miss the sway of her hips, and almost calls her back just to hear her voice again. But he stops himself, because it's getting pathetic.

When she returns with her order, he almost regrets the comeback of his enhaced senses, her honeyed perfume mixed with the bitter smell of the freshly brewed coffee, creating an intoxicating mix.

His lips burn when he sips it, but that doesn't stop him from emptying the cup. Again. And again. All in the name for asking for more coffee, a magnetic force pulling him to the ground, making him forget he's a 200 and something year old man begging like a starved man for at least a fraction of her attention. He feels unworthy of your warmth.

He feigns interest on the newspaper when you return again (he's been stuck on the same paragraph ever since he sat down), the pot in your hands. If you've noticed he's emptied the cups faster than a normal person, you don't ask questions. He's thankful, but can see the amusement and confusion laced across your pretty face.

"More?" you ask, but it's unnecesary. He only nods, and you miss the chatter.

The closeness it's a challenge itself, the uniform's neckline practically shoved down his nose while she fills the cup to the brim. He hears his own heartbeat, the sound averting his attention from another "brief" glance at the cleavage. Is it intentional? Is your goodwill and act? Are you this cruel, playing with an old touch starved man like that?

God knows it's been long since he's had a helping hand during his relief hours.

He can't help it; he's a man, after all. So he seizes the moment and steals a glance. But his eyes meet yours, the wary green clashing with the cozy chocolate. There's warmth on your eyes, and he's looking at your tits like an animal. He pulls away, ashamed. The shirt feels a bit suffocating, and there's sweat on his forehead again. Great, you'll think he's a perv.

"Excuse me" you say, leaving his table. Logan is afraid of having fucked it up for thinking with this dick and not with his head. You were messing too much with his head, and now he'll pay the price. Fair, he thinks, for a perverted old man trying to woo a girl younger and far more innocent than him.

There's benevolance on her smile and blood on his hands.

The whole situation is stupid.

But then he's thinking of excuses (like saying it's his failing eyesight's fault) and something close to an apology, as if he cares a little too much about what you think. And then you come back.

"I forgot to bring you a napkin" she lies, leaving the piece of paper in the middle of the table. You laugh, and Logan let's you because 1. He deserves it, and 2. It's a sound as saccharine as the smell the freshly heated pies emit on the table across him.

You leave before he can even open his mouth, so all he's left with is the napkin that seems to have something written on it. Pervert, he reads, on the same calligraphy you scribbled on your bloc. He can't help but laugh, even with your watchful look on him.

That's how it continued.

Even if he had other rides and more energy to drive, he kept coming to the decaying diner just to see you. Almost as if he was forgetting his desperate need for the money, the boat goal further and further.

"You've forgotten about me" complained Charles, although his tone lacked of bite. "But I'm not mad that you've had".

He'd go on, rambling about living life but Logan just laughed. Yet, maybe he was right. Didn't even need his powers to know it.

Now, you? you simply couldn't get enough of your favorite costumer. Of his late stays until you closed, sometimes not muttering more than necessary, yet his company, even if curt, proved to be what you needed to make it through work, giving you a legitimate reason to yearn the before tedious night shifts.

Despite this two month weird relationship, Logan is as a stranger to you as he was the first day, no matter how many times you've tried to get him to talk. In the end, all your conversation efforts feel more of a monologue than a chat.

He knows about your mom and your dad, one strict the other dead. He knows most of your friends names, what you're studying and what you wanted to. Your dreams and your hopes, your aspirations, failures, and some other things you'd never say to anyone else out loud. All and nothing. And he listens, sometimes asking questions, but never about himself. He never takes the lead.

So frustration from the Logan enigma pours into you, the puzzle pieces layed out over your mind, consuming your thoughts. So now you're stubbornly cleaning the same grease spot on a table you've already wipped before, and that, coincidentally, it's the booth in front of Logan, the permanent resident of your head during these past weeks. You might as well make him start paying rent by now, his power and hold over you ridiculous.

"It's not going anywhere. Take it easy" he mocks you.

There's a bit of annoyance when you reply back, although it's mostly superficial. "Don't know what you're talking about" comes out your dry response, earning a low chuckle from him.

"How about you sit for a moment?" he offers, ignoring your apathy. "You're almost done cleaning up".

If his ever changing attitude isn't enough, closing this night's shift is as tiring.

Logan doesn't expect you to obey, but now you're sitting across from him, and a voice in his head says you maybe feel sorry for this lunatic old man.

You're so close, he can see the eye bags and sorrow you are far tired to try to hide.

"I have to finish cleaning" you explain, "we're about to close".

He doesn't know why he says it, or what takes over him when he says:

"I could wait for you"

He surprises himself and surprises you too.

"No need" you assure, and why does he feel so dissapointed. It's stupid. "My friend picks me up".

Ah, yes. The friend with the perfect stupid smile that picks you up every night. Not like he parks his car until you leave and sees the scene unfold each time, his white knuckle grip on the wheel a bit too much when the young boy opens up your door. Makes him see red, knowing he's your age and maybe the breathe of fresh air you need. Not a man far older, who bears too many sins and scars in and out.

"I see" he says after some minutes in silence, retracting his impulsiveness. "I'm sorry if I made you-"

"No!" you clarify hastily, "it doesn't bother me".

He smiles unconsciously in relief.

"Well, me neither. I insist. If you change your mind" he's practically begging, despite his monotone tone.

But you don't.

The place closes and Logan is forced to get in the car. He lights a cigarette, in no hurry to return home. The lighter lights up while the diner's light goes off. You and your boss come out, biding each other goodbye. She leaves and you're is left alone, hugging your body in the early morning cold. 

He sees you wearing particular clothes, for the first time. He takes a slow drag on his cigarette, eyes running up and down your bare legs, the fragile fabric of the skirt fluttering in the wind. He exhales, watching as you dials your phone several times, getting no response, obviously frustrated.

He mutters something under his breath, and maybe there is a God after all. He starts the car, approaching her, who has already noticed it, probably because of the noise of the engine.

She looks scared, but Logan rolls down the window so she can see it's him.

"Need'a ride?"

Just by his reverberant sound you could accept. But you try to play cool for a while, despite your aching bones and need to get home.

"He doesn't answer" he was right, "my friend".

I know, he wishes to say, but he's the same hot headed asshole who walked through the doors of the X mansion for the first time, so his tone will be laced with irony. He doesn't want you to see him as an intense hot blooded mouth.

I could take you. His head pounds but he shuts the emotions down.

He shoves the knot on his throat down and asks as casually as possible, "do you live close?"

"Just around the corner" you answer. A beat, your frame bending so he can see your face from the driver's sit, the cleavage saying hello again. How considerate of you. "Do you really want to do this?"

Do you really want to do this?

The question rings on his ears. It holds more than just the favor. Logan knows they have a certain tension between them that he no longer wants to ignore. For the first time it seems to be reciprocated; palpable, and he is surprised to hear his heart beating loudly, so accustomed to hearing others' with his sharp senses, constantly forgetting what his own sounds like. Yours also beats erratically, despite your calm composure.

You arch an eyebrow, amused. "I can't believe you waited for me. Your family must be worried."

Logan realizes you're trying to test waters. So he raises his hand discreetly and places it on the door, so you can see the lack of a ring. As expected, your eyes travel to his free finger, and he can swear he sees you breathe with relief, which is funny, because in case you hadn't picked up until now, Logan is very much fucking alone.

"In case you changed your mind," he answers. "I have nowhere else to be."

That is enough of an invitation for you to get in the car.

"I was going to open that door for you" he protests.

You only laugh as you buckle the seatbelt. "It's not that big of a deal, really. You've already done enough for me by doing me the favor".

"It's not that big of a deal" he repeats your words, "as long as I'm of help, that's enough for me".

He smiles wistfully, remembering better times. A part of him still aspires to be that hero everyone loved and remembered, something that clearly doesn't happen anymore (or if it does, it's rare), given the lack of recognition of his former identity in El Paso. He shakes his head, focusing back on the street in front of him. It's too late to get fucking sentimental.

"I like to help too…" you confess, meekly. Logan sighs, how could he not know? "My father used to say that I had the kindest heart he'd ever met. I hope it stays that way, and that when he looks down on me, he's proud".

It hurts Logan to see you be so hard on yourself, as if he didn't do the same.

"I bet all the customers in the place would say you're the sweetest thing they've met", he sees you smile from the corner of his eye, and can't help but emulate it. "Believe me, you're their favorite".

"Thank you, Logan" you say sincerely. However, the affliction that he hates to see crosses your face. So gloomy that you don't even seem the same person.

You wipe away an unexpected tear, but Howlett is faster and notices. You turn around, looking towards the window. Then, you catch a glimpse of his license.

"So… you're a driver" you try to break the silence that Logan has put without knowing why. Maybe to give you some space after being sentimental and opening up again to this closed off wall name Logan, but he knows it's a lie. He's scared. After wanting so much to be closer to you, he cowers, not trusting himself and what he would do trapped in a small space with such an attractive woman. Besides, the tension from the previous conversation was still there.

"You judging me now, honey?" the pet name rolls off his tongue before he catches it. He tries to play it cool, continuing the banter, carrying the same tone. "The only thing necessary to make you trust me was to give you a free ride?

"I'm in your car, Logan. I got in without thinking" you laugh. "I believe that's enough trust"

"Then, I'll keep doing you favors. Maybe if I do…" he trails off.

Your voice drops an octave, provocative. "Maybe what?"

His knuckles grip the steering wheel until they turn white.

"Maybe…" he hesitates, "maybe…"

"It's here" you point out. Shit, Logan curses, braking abruptly without meaning to.

"See you tomorrow" you bid as a goodbye, getting out of the car. Logan misses your smell.

So he sticks his head out the window, like a begging dog.

"How about now?" he says a bit forcefully.

Your face shows surprise and something else.

"You're getting attached" you reply, and he doesn't know why there seems to be sadness in your voice.

"I just keep coming back for the coffee" he defends himself.

You laugh, shaking your head "Now, then. For the coffee, clearly."

"I can leave" he says. Yet, makes no move to leave.

You sigh, giving him one last look. Surrender, he reads.

"You're a driver, right?" he nods, taking in every word coming of your pink plush lips. "Then let's drive off. Anywhere" your voice trails off, and you're just so tired of everything, you'll just let go yourself with the flow. "I'll go wherever you go..."

And this is how it ends.

When you wake up, it's almost dawn.

Logan had suggested you to sleep, claming the road where he was taking you to be long. He had covered you with his jacket, even if your body was burning from nerves.

Why had you agreed? Your mom would probably smack your head in search for some sense, and your reckless friends would encourage you to do it for the sake of a story. But something about Logan makes you feel safe, despite not knowing anything from him. It's sort of a sense of protection―like he would never hurt you, that envelops him. Everyone else would call you crazy; only you can understand that.

When your eyes adjust to the light, you realize you're in a line of cars.

"Did you bring me to the border?" you exclaim groggily, still in a sleepy voice.

"Good morning" he answers instead.

You rub yoou eyes, settling into the passenger seat.

"You're not going to kidnap me, right?" you question, half joking half serious.

Logan laughs, "Not only that. I'm also going to throw your body in a mass grave"

"It's not funny," you pout, although you're laughing too.

Once you've crossed the border, Logan drives a few more minutes, until he reaches a restricted area.

“I live here” he answers before you can ask, “saves rent and questions”

After opening the locks, you can better appreciate the place. Well, appreciate may not be the right word.

“It's an abandoned smelting plant” you voice out loud.

Logan just nods. You realize that he didn't like the comment, so you try not to talk about it anymore.

“Come” he gets out of the car, going to open your door. He offers you a hand, and you fail to hide your smile.

“You didn't miss this time, huh? Quite a gentleman” you praise. Then, add jokingly, “if you choose to kill me, at least I'll die taken care of".

“Stop talking nonsense and go inside” he scolds but smiles.

Inside, the abandoned plant is exactly what you expected.

"We're alone" Logan says, after leaving to check. He opens the door to his room, letting you in. There's not much inside, just a bed and scattered things. A yellowish light begins to filter through the broken glass. "I'mma change. Be right back".

You begin to explore your surroundings, to avoid thinking about the impact of the situation. Two things could happen: leave or stay. Maybe everything was going too fast, but you prided yourself on your spontaneity, often confused with impulsiveness. Others would say it was your naive nature: too innocent for your own good.

What had led you to accept without further ado? Was trust enough, that you had even fallen asleep in his car?

"S'rry for the wait"

You notice that Logan's gotten rid of his formal attire, leaving him in just slacks and an old white tank top. His muscles flex with every movement, making you swallow involuntarily. He still retains his extraordinary physique, despite his greying hair. She can't help but stare at the scars that cover his exposed skin, her fingers itching to trace them.

"Haven't they told ya' t's rude to stare?"

You look away, embarrassed. Logan walks over to the bed, bumping into you in the process, bodies barely touching. Still, an electric shock runs through you. You hug yourself, scared, aware of the effect he has on you.

"Logan" she dares to ask, "what are we doing?"

He finally looks at you. You feel naked under his intense gaze.

"What do you want us to do?"

His voice comes out low, like a growl. You stand in place stiff, unable to form a word.

"Come on, honey", the nickname comes out of his lips so easily, it hurts. "Are ya losing your voice now? Got into my car a while ago without thinkin', what's changed?"

You slowly approach Logan, each stride calculated. He watches you in silence, a silence as hostile as the wind hitting the broken windows, watching you remove your clothes, until all that's left is your bra and that skimpy skirt, as if you knew he liked it.

"Logan…" you whisper his name like a prayer, letting yourself fall on his legs. He holds you with his hard calloused fingers, like a promise.

"Use your words, sweet thing" the trepidation condenses between, "we're grown up now, aren't we? Use your words"

Don't let me fall. Don't let me go. Don't leave me.

If by words he meant feeling your lips against his, it's enough to have Logan following his impulses, using his strength to embrace your body until they feel like one, the scars on his hands feeling like your own. Your lips move in sync, and it's almost so casual, so learned, so meant to be, that fear appears in Logan, soon forgotten with the symphony of moans that come from your lips.

"Tell me" he pauses, breaking away from the kiss (something you don't like and express in the form of a pout), "what do you want?"

Logan tastes like cigars and whiskey, a combination you hate and the reason you quit your old job at the bar, but on his lips, it's an intoxicating taste.

"I want you, Logan" you whisper, hot breath against his skin, “you”.

He resumes the kiss, an electric shock of hunger and need between you: lips parted, colliding, teeth almost clashing against each other.

His fingers hesitate with a delicacy that belies his rough touch, the tips of his worn fingers lifting the fragile cloth of your skirt first, revealing soaking wet panties he goes crazy just at the sight of. The smell is sugary, sicklingly, so now he's hard and pulling at the clasp of your bra first, exposing your nipples, which he rolls and pinches mercilessly. A gasp escapes you—then another, and another as Logan pushes his thigh between your legs. The friction is delicious, almost painful against your pulsing center.

His hand firm up his position, securing itself onyour bare legs as you digs her nails into him. His labored moans turn into a guttural growl.

“You think I’m not capable?” he mocks, stealing another moan from her, “that I can’t keep up with you, you pretty young thing?”

You deny it, but Logan takes it upon himself to show you that he can take you like he's in heat, the ghost of his old self taking over in his almost animal way of fucking you, hips arched, muscles flexed and tense, his teeth appearing every time he opens his mouth, reminding you of fangs. They dig into your exposed skin, leaving bruises that will take time to disappear from your shoulders and neck, marking what belongs to him.

The hardness of his skin meets your soft when he grabs you by the waist.

"Look at you" it slips from his tongue, ecstatic. He's a goner, saliva dripping from the messy and sloppy kisses he leaves through your collarbone, "so good and so pure. I bet you're innocent, that you haven't seen what I've seen..."

His pupils darken, a strange mix between torment and desire in his gaze. Hungry and violent.

"Will you let me show you how's a real man s'ppossed to treat a woman?"

He feels shame settle in his belly, the hunger to possess her almost virgin body fueling his dark desire of errasing her sweet smile until she's an unintelligible mess of sobs. To show her what she would complain about, so she'll never slettle for less. So you can feel what it's to be taken care of―handled. And then he'll fill you up with his seed, so no other man will take what's his. His sweet little thing. Oh, he's so going to hell for this.

But maybe he likes pain.

"That's it, honey" he plays with the fabric of your wet panties, pulling at the loose threads in the delicate fabric. "Let me show you".

You take it off, and Logan lies back against the bed, spreading his legs and unbuttoning his belt and pants―a clear invitation to repeat the previous position, except this time, his hands are on top of your hips, squeezing the soft skin. He doesn't take his eyes off you, his gaze reserved only on you. If the adrenaline from before pushed you, now the confidence gained motions you to finish the task. It's just the push you need, remembering that this is what it feels like to be with a real man as you throw a leg over his hips, sitting your ass right on top of the bulge marked on his underwear.

“Right… there…” he barely manages to formulate a coherent train of words, the years of lack of help in attending to his needs leading to overstimulation, “good girl.”

The compliment makes you increase the pace of your hips, his labored breaths a sound so rich and so manly it makes you squirm.

You need it desperately, rubbing your increasingly wet clit against him, riding the fabric. His scruffy beard barely hides the smug smile that graces his lips.

“Like this?” she whispers, and Logan can no longer contain himself, staring at his sweaty, ripped body failing to please her completely. It feels so good it aches, and he can't believe this is how he's ended. But if that means having your pretty face on top of him, covered in his marks, dripping on your joint sweats, well maybe it isn't so bad.

“How can I repay you, honey?” he pleads. He'll try he's best. He just wants to give you a glimpse of the way his whole world has light up ever since he stumbled in that greasy diner.

“You said you were going to show me” it comes out almost as a purr, expectant, “and I’m waiting”.

Logan takes it as his cue, pulling down his underwear until his member is exposed, chuckling darkly when you swallow at the sight.

"Don't tell me you're scared already" he teases, "look how you have me… you can't leave me like this…"

You stifle a scream as you feel every inch of his thick cock enter your sensible walls, trying to fit his member inside of your needy body.

"So tight for me" he stammers, using his hands to keep you in place, on top of him. The only sound in the silence of that place that smells of death is that of their skin colliding―vulgar, the obscenity highlighted by being the only thing that can be heard in the small room.

Even though his stamina has dropped over the years, he thrusts into you relentlessly. Logan fucks you senseless, his balls buried deep in your dripping pussy, a constant rhythm of avid suction with each entry to your walls.

He takes a moment to see you as you take something from the nighstand he doesn't remember putting there.

"Look what I found" you whisper in the middle of your moans. Logan recognizes the shine of metal in front of his eyes, "so Wolverine?"

You say it so easily, like it's not the first time. With acceptance; it scares him.

Do you recognize him? Are you not scared? Why haven't your eyes go from curiosity and kindness to cold and rejection?

He should panic, rip off his dog tags from your hands and pretend he doesn't know who he used to be, but he's so deep inside you and so enraptured, he can only manage to gently take them from between your fingers and put them around your neck, the cold metal against your warm, bare skin creating an electric shock.

"I want to see them on you"

He likes to watch it hang over his face while you're on top, panting heavily as she repeats his name, slurring her words. It dangles with every thrust, the silver glistens in the seeping sun, just like the sweat that adorns her skin.

"Are you that needy of your old man? " he teases, caressing her. He smacks the curve of his ass, “You want more?”

His veiny length makes quick work of your needy hole, more moans escaping your lips.

“Shit,” you curse, wincing at the pain that begins to increase. “Yes, Logan. Just like that. Nobody ever treated me like that, nobody's made me feel like this-”

He moans, pleased with the praise, seeing he isn't as lacking as he thought. Making you feel good is his priority, but he won't lie and say he doesn't want to feel it too.

In an attempt to distract yourself, your eyes try to focus on him: searching his features, memorizing every scar, every wrinkle, every little grey hair.

“You’re perfect, Logan,” you mumble through a moan, the confession hiding more than you want to say and more than he cares to admit.

Before he can process it though, the fire in his stomach signals the arrival of his impending orgasm.

There's something delightful about the way you can barely speak, a mess of moans that sound like his name, eyes half-lidded and lips swollen alongside your messy hair.

He feels almost sick to be consuming something that doesn't and shouldn't belong to him. He doesn't deserve to have such a beautiful, young woman riding him while she clings to him like he's the last thing in this world, him: a worn, old man who can't keep up with her.

His member spasms, and it's got you feeling it all inside your walls, causing him to close his eyes in the process as well.

It's too soon, Logan thinks in shame, but it's been so long and you feels so good, he let's it go:

Thick whips of his cum shoot out of his member, drawing out more than you would've imagined. You don't have much time to think about it, for the orgasm hits you immediately, fingers curling and eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

Logan feels his tip getting wetter, and the extra lubrication is a nice finishing touch.

“God,” he gasps, “what a mess…”

You avoid looking at him, taking one of his hands in yours, kissing the red and violet painted knuckles. If you do, you'll give away what you feel, the same way her memory burns in Logan's chest, more now than ever, as his mouth tastes just like you.

Dependency.

Devotion. Absolute. Sick.

Maybe that was what he felt. This weird feeling. That abyss piercing his chest but never killing him (so much for regenerating...), pressing his heart with a crushing force whenever it threathened to beat again. Logan was content with rather nothing, always a man who didn't ask for much, and since the death of his family―the X-men, less.

"You should go" he mutters in defeat, the shame washing over. Even if he'll miss your warmth, even if he doesn't want you to leave at all. "It's for your own good, y/n. Pretend you don't know me and turn around. Go away" he insists yet gets stuck on his words, "you're not stupid. Then you'll know it's good for you and you'll never speak to me again"

He looks at the ground, cowardly, because he wants your lust filled warm look to be the last memory he remembers. Not whatever look you're giving him now.

So Logan closes his eyes and counts to ten. When he opens them, you'll be gone. It'll be a dream, something too good to be true. Short lived, like every good thing in his life.

"Logan..." you calls his name. So softly it seems like a breath.

You're still here.

"Logan" you call again, more firmly.

"Logan" you don't give up, cupping with one hand his face gently, "look at me".

When he looks up, he comes across a heartbreaking vision. You cry, tears falling like waterfalls down your cheeks. But that's not the most devastating thing, no: it's the look in your eyes, as if you've shared his pain. As if you've had suffered the same things he had suffered; a twisted reflection of him.

"Of course I understand you" you take his hands, and Logan feels that same strange warmth he felt the first time when your hands brushed his with the diner's menu. "I've also lost people�� people I loved. Don't you think it hurts me to see the world go on as if nothing happened? Everyone forgets, Logan. But I can't; there's not a day that goes by when I don't think about them"

For a moment, you stop crying, and the hidden internal turmoil he tried so hard to decipher finally makes sense.

"I don't know what you've been through either, but I can promise you, that I understand you more than you think…" it seems like you'll say something else, but you stop and say instead. "Think, Lo: would these people want to see you like this?"

"It's what I deserve" he murmurs barely, his voice constipated but without shedding a single tear.

"It's not what we want, Logan. Please" you sniff, pained "stop being so hard on yourself".

"I'm not who you think I am" he insists. You're still naked on his bed, and he feels dirty for having you like this. For taking you to his home and fucking you raw out of your innocence. "I'm not a good person."

"No, Logan" you seem hurt by that statement. You trace one of his most recent scars with a touch so compassionate, that he feels your fingertips burn, "you are a hero".

Your words were so sweet, so comforting. He wanted to sink into your lap, which smelled like flowers and tasted like safety. A home; a life that had been taken from him. He wanted to believe everything you said―feel who you believed he was. Not this pathetic, tired and apathetic version of himself, but the old version: the version that inspired respect, that despite his tough exterior, had a family he loved. Because he had a heart. Now he feels like he has no soul: no purpose, nothing.

But maybe you are the answer.

Before he can change his mind, you blurt out “can I stay?”

That morning, in that old bed that creaks under his weight, Logan discovers that feeling alive again isn't so bad.

[wendichester]

Hello! May I request a poly (no wincest ofc) Sam & Dean x reader, where maybe reader is having a bit of a bad mental day

And though they both notice, they don't say anything bc they don't wanna be that last drop to a breakdown

And then later they come back from a food run and find ready crying and they comfort her with soft kisses and sweet words while she's sandwiched between them

Tysm lovely!! You're the best

⋆ ₊ ° ⊹ everything will be alright,

summary. sam and dean will always be there to comfort you when things are rough

pairing. dean winchester x reader x sam winchester ( poly relationship )

wordcount. 656

notes. thank you so much for requesting this, bubs! honestly--the dream it would be to have the comfort of both sam and dean sigh

The day feels heavier than usual, the kind of weight that settles in your chest and refuses to budge no matter how many distractions you throw at it. You keep your head down, trying not to let it show as you sit at the bunker’s library table, pretending to skim through lore books that might as well be blank pages for all the focus you can muster.

Sam and Dean notice, of course. They always do.

Dean keeps sneaking glances your way, his lips twitching like he wants to say something but thinks better of it. Sam hovers a little closer than usual, his hand brushing against your shoulder when he passes by, his eyes soft with quiet concern. They don’t push, though, which you’re grateful for. You’re not ready to put words to the storm brewing inside you.

“We’re heading out for food,” Dean announces after a while, grabbing his keys. “You want anything specific?”

You shake your head without looking up, your voice coming out quieter than you intended. “Whatever’s fine.”

Dean lingers for a second longer than necessary, and Sam gives you one of those tender, searching looks, but they don’t press. They just nod and leave, the sound of the Impala’s engine rumbling faintly as it fades down the road.

The quiet of the bunker feels deafening in their absence. You try to focus on the book again, but the words blur, the pressure in your chest building until it spills over. Before you know it, tears are streaming down your face, hot and relentless. You don’t even bother wiping them away, letting the weight of the day finally crash over you.

You’re still sitting there, shoulders shaking, when you hear the sound of the Impala pulling into the garage. You try to compose yourself, but it’s too late. The door creaks open, and their footsteps echo down the hall before they appear, bags of takeout in hand.

“Hey, we got—” Dean starts, but he freezes mid-sentence when he sees you, his brows knitting together in concern.

Sam is already at your side, the bags abandoned on the table. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asks softly, crouching down in front of you.

You shake your head, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. Dean sits on your other side, his arm sliding around your shoulders as Sam takes your hands in his, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles.

“Sweetheart,” Dean murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “You don’t have to say anything. We’re here.”

That’s all it takes for the dam to fully break. You lean into Dean, your tears soaking into his flannel as Sam rubs slow, comforting circles into your back. They don’t rush you, don’t try to fix it with empty words. They just hold you, their presence solid and grounding.

After a while, when your sobs have quieted into soft sniffles, Sam tilts your chin up gently, his hazel eyes full of warmth. “You don’t have to carry everything by yourself, you know.”

Dean presses a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there. “We’ve got you, sweetheart. Always.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the tension in your chest easing as their words wash over you. They shift closer, sandwiching you between them in a cocoon of warmth and safety. Sam presses a soft kiss to your forehead, and Dean tilts your chin up to brush his lips against yours, his touch tender and unhurried.

“You’re stuck with us, you know,” Dean murmurs, his hand sliding down to rest over yours. “Whether you like it or not.”

Sam chuckles, his fingers lacing with yours on the other side. “And we’re not going anywhere. Not ever.”

For the first time all day, the weight in your chest feels manageable, their presence a steady anchor in the storm. You close your eyes, leaning into them fully, their love wrapping around you like a shield against the world.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos

[maliland]

PLAY FAIR!

now playing: xo by beyoncé

barbie(s): e-1610 miles & black fem reader

includes: fluff & fake ass friends

synopsis: your day starts off a bit rocky when you're confronted with conflict concerning your friendships. your boyfriend cheers you up by taking you to the fair!

wc: 8358 (not including the bonus)

credz: @/firefly-graphics

a/n: first fluff fic yayay!! i lied abt when i was dropping this sooo many times, mb.. there's a bonus to make up for it. i hope u guys enjoy this and read VERY slowly bc idk when i'm dropping a fic next 🚶‍♀️ idk what i was doing here lowkey… i h8 everything but the bonus. (i'm biased i like angst better) lmk what y’all think of this tho 💞 ((i proof read but there might be mistakes))

mothers were always thought to have an intuition when it came to their children—some sort of sixth sense. the science behind it? well, there is none. none that’s been proven, anyway. that doesn’t stop some mothers from swearing that their second sight was legit. your mom was one of them, constantly giving her unwarranted two cents about people in your life who seemed harmless to you.

you felt blessed to have the mother you did. she was your best friend and your biggest cheerleader. she brought you up to be the girl you are today. without her, you didn't know who you'd be. not having a huge group of friends to be around 24/7 didn't really bother you as much as it would have if you didn't have her.

you’ve never felt like you needed to hide anything from your mom, but you did keep your crush on miles a secret for a hot minute. you'd never liked someone the way you liked him. you were shocked to discover that he like you too. when miles was ready to make things official, you knew you couldn't hide him from your mom anymore, so you didn't. she met him one saturday morning over breakfast, and to your surprise, she liked him. you were shocked she didn’t have anything condemnatory to say about your boyfriend, not because there was anything wrong with miles, but because your mom is overprotective of you.

growing up, you hadn’t always been the most sociable kid. all of the friends you had now found you and so did miles. that being said, your mom worried that people would take advantage of your built-in hospitality and youf kind heart. she watched out for certain things when you'd describe your interactions with people, then told you to watch out as well. although her overprotectiveness could be irritating more often than not, your mom had definitely helped you avoid trouble here and there.

growing up meant change. you weren't the biggest fan of change because of the risk that came with it. you had always preferred to stick to what you know—until this year. your fourth and final year of high school had you wanting to break out of your shell. the same few friends wouldn’t be there to keep you company when you graduate and go to different colleges, or hold your hand for the rest of your life. neither would your beloved mother. you had to hold your own hand.

you weren't sure how you were going to make friends, and you were too ashamed to ask anyone how to do so. thankfully, you didn't have to do much, because the friends you made came to you.

it started with a group chat with the five girls you had calculus with this year: tiesha, taraji, yanira, and adana. tiesha had created the chain so you all could send homework answers and test reviews back and forth. math was never your strong suit, so cheating was really the only reason you were passing. brief conversations about homework and how much you all hated the class turned into full blown conversations about boys and tv shows. minor comments about something annoying that someone did in class turned into major gossip sessions. you couldn't remember the last time you went a whole day without talking to those girls, whether it was one text message or twenty.

your mom told you she was excited that you had expanded your circle, but you could tell by the way her smile had slightly faltered that she was indeed irresolute. you knew you’d never understand her intuitive claims unless you had children of your own, and even then, you’d still doubt the phenomenon’s validity. it was just your nature to question everything.

presently, you were at a food court in the mall, sitting by yourself at one of the tables. every now and then, you’d glance up from your phone and see a group of friends or a couple pass by you.

you were supposed to hang out with yanira, taraji, adana, and tiesha, but it was almost one and none of them had showed up to the spot in the mall where you agreed to meet. every call you made went straight to voicemail. frustrated, you opened instagram to see if any of the girls were active. you raised a brow when you noticed the multicolored spiral around yanira’s profile picture at the top of your dash where stories were located. you tapped it just to be confronted with a boomerang of yanira, tiesha, adana, and taraji posing in a dressing room mirror. your eyes bored into the screen for a few seconds before you swiped out of instagram, treachery bubbling in your stomach. you released an exasperated sigh.

your mom was right. once again.

you glanced at a nearby tv on one of the walls in the food court and saw a picture of spider-man. you read the captions as they glided across the bottom of the screen, the clip of the hero fighting off a villain playing simultaneously. the news reporter narrated the highlights of the brawl and another one followed up his narration by concluding that spider-man had once again saved the city.

you smiled to yourself like a proud mother, then you thought about miles, not spider-man. you hadn’t talked to your boyfriend since the night before. as if he could read your mind, your phone buzzed against the table and lit up.

3 text messages @ 12:42pm

miles: hey, pretty girl (12:42pm)  miles: i couldn’t text you this morning, i’m sorry (12:42pm)  miles: villain of the week decided to get up early today (12:42pm)

so did you, but for different reasons. reasons that no longer mattered. you didn't even know why you were still sitting in that food court. you should've been en route to the train station by now. you felt so damn stupid.

you: that’s okay (12:43pm)

miles: are you okay? (12:43pm) miles: yk i’d never purposely ignore you, right? (12:43pm)

you: yeah, i know (12:44pm) you: it’s not you (12:44pm)  you: i’m at the mall rn bc i was supposed to meet some friends here, but they never showed. nb wanted to answer the phone either (12:44pm) you: i checked instagram n it turns out they’re all here (12:45pm) you: just without me (12:45pm) you: sooo now i have to do the walk of shame back to the subway station (12:45pm)

miles: that’s so messed up, i’m really sorry (12:46pm)  miles: did anything happen with them before this? (12:46pm)

you: no (12:46pm)  you: i mean if it did then idk anything about it (12:47pm)  you: my ma warned me about those girls. i should’ve listened 🤦‍♀️ (12:47pm)

miles: i got an idea. are you free now? (12:47pm)

you: i am 🤨 (12:48pm)

miles: take the subway to mine (12:48pm)  miles: i have a surprise ❤️ (12:48pm)

you: i gtg grab smth from my place b4 that (12:49pm) you: but i’ll be there :) (12:49pm)

miles loved a message @ 12:50pm

you didn’t even realize the smile that had crept up on your face until it was almost ear to ear and a few seconds away from making your cheeks ache. you quickly stood up from your chair, the legs howling loudly as they scraped against the tile. you winced at the noise and picked the chair up to move it instead of pushing it in. afterwards, you began walking to the exit closest to the subway station. your pace slowed when you saw your “friends” in front of you. they hadn’t noticed you yet. you hoped they wouldn't. they were walking in a horizontal line, laughing and carrying bags on their arms from different stores. you thought it made them look like they belonged in mean girls, or some coming-of-age disney movie with a clique of popular girls who manage to be both unnecessarily cruel and loved by everyone for antsgonists.

when the group of teens finally spotted you, they briefly side-eyed one another before looking back at you, fake smiles gracing their lips almost immediately after.

did they think you were stupid, blind, or both?

“[name]!” adana called out to you when you were only a few feet apart. she dragged out the last part of your name too. you saw it for what it was: an obvious and weak effort to sound genuine. adana picked up her pace so she got to you faster than the other girls. “we thought you weren’t coming, girl!”

you remained tranquil, though you could see everyone else behind adana snickering and exchanging looks. your kept your face relatively blank, not wanting to show the girls before you even the slightest bit of chagrin. they’d get a kick out of it and your outburst would be the topic of their conversations for weeks to come. high school was truly exhausting.

“i mean, i got here at twelve like we agreed,” you shrugged. “i called you guys too. i guess your phones were off.”

“yeah, they were,” taraji chimed in, showing you the 'do not disturb' icon on her phone. you fought the urge to roll your eyes at her fraudulent tone.

you almost couldn’t believe that this was a real situation that you were somehow caught in the middle of. tiesha pouted, the friction between her lips causing her already-faded pink and brown lip combo to fade some more. you knew she was mocking you, but you only wanted to smile when you thought about the shiny gloss that was neatly slathered on your lips, much unlike hers.

“are you okay? have you been here by yourself this whole time?” tiesha interrogated. it felt more like instigating.

“i mean, yeah,” your eyes darted around nervously. lipgloss honestly wasn’t a big deal anyway, tiesha probably had more in her bag. your confidence boost was short-lived and had diminished. you were never the type to thrive off someone's disadvantage. either way, you could act. “but it didn’t really bother me ‘cause i was texting my boyfriend and we—”

“boyfriend?” adana laughed mockingly like it was unbelievable. like it was impossible. “i didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“what? i’ve told you guys this,” you frowned, your voice wavering to a degree.

you stared at the four girls with an eyebrow cocked up while they turned to each other and shook their heads, a few whispers floated in the air and into your ears. you had spoken about miles to these girls before, you were positive. he was never a secret, you just weren’t someone who posted online a lot. in fact, you only had instagram because your mom made you sign up. you’d never posted once. either way, it’s your relationship. you didn’t want everyone in your business, that’s where mess was rooted. that's how problems started.

what mess the unforeseen treatment you were receiving was rooted in? that was a mystery to you. you didn’t understand how the girls who were supposed to be your friends could switch up on you at the speed of light. there hadn’t been any fights or arguments between any of you—to your knowledge, at least.

you’ve always preached that there are two sides to every story, but you also preached communication. you all were cool last night while confirming today’s plans, now suddenly they know nothing about you?

nobody questioned you about miles. instead, yanira broke the silence that you’d spent lost in your thoughts, trying to make sense of the uncomfortable situation you were in with purely scraps. “well, good thing we found you now.” she pursed her lips afterwards, clearly stifling a laugh.

words couldn’t describe how stupid and naive you felt. they were trying to play you in your face and thought you were oblivious to it. you were starting to think so too. maybe they’d been playing in your face this entire time. maybe they’ve been acting for the duration of your friendship. maybe there were signs this entire time and you didn’t notice until now. maybe the idea of meeting new people thrilled you too much, and they took advantage of that when they realized it.

you weren’t lashing out over everything going on in the name of “staying calm.” you couldn’t grant anyone the satisfaction of knowing they struck a nerve, and bad. you were just as committed to keeping up with your act as they were to theirs, and nothing was going to make you let up.

“we were just about to grab some food,” tiesha added after yanira, smiling ever so innocently, as if she was oblivious to the treatment you were receiving. tiesha was the one you were the closest with, so that hurt. stung even.

“thanks, but i have other plans,” you faked a smile and made sure to look each one of your “friends” dead in each of their glowering, dull eyes.

adana’s face contorted in slight indignation. “how could you have plans? were you only gonna hang with us for an hour?”

“i was heading out before i ran into you guys,” you smiled and shrugged, checking the time on your phone. “gotta go now or i’ll miss the train. i’ll see you guys at school on monday.”

those insolent girls gave you the stink eye as deviated away. a few steps farther from fakery and you could already hear the whispers and the murmurs, even if the mall was loud. they sounded more like hisses the farther away you got, until they blended into the many, many sounds of your local mall. you were thankful to be free from that conversation—if you could even call it that.

your next chat oughta be a real one. though you hated it, confrontation was just around the corner.

❤︎₊ ⊹

“and then they acted like absolutely nothing was wrong… tiesha too!”

you were seated on one end of the couch in miles’ apartment, your legs crossed and resting on top of his thighs and a pillow between the arm of the couch and your back. miles hadn’t told you what the surprise was yet, and quite frankly, it had slipped your mind entirely. you were never good when it came to keeping your emotions in check. the fury boiling and seething inside you was so immense that you couldn’t give anything but what happened at the mall even half of a thought even if you wanted to. miles was steadily running his hand up and down the bottom half of one of your legs because he knew it’d help you calm you down. it was something he did by default while you were ranting, because when you were upset over something, you could go on for hours.

miles was a teen girl’s diary that could talk back. you had been on a twenty-minute tangent about what transpired at the mall, making sure to include even the most minor details that other people would view as futile. your boyfriend made sure you knew he was listening, nodding and making a few comments when you’d pause to catch your breath. most people would hate hearing someone complain for as long as you usually did, but miles didn't mind it. in fact, he enjoyed it. it wasn’t your anger that he savored, he just loved staring at your pretty face. you had miles in a trance forever and always. your beauty would forever captivate the boy and you were well aware. the difference between now and when you weren’t blowing smoke out of your ears was that miles could admire every feature without you teasing him for it, because you wanted him to pay attention. in any other instance, you loved pointing out how much he stares and making fun of him for it as if you’re not just as head over heels.

“i feel pathetic. i waited there for a goddamn hour. and you wanna know what the worst part about all of this is?” you exhaled, your irises peering directly into miles’.

even when you were upset, you could admire him. you were doing it in that moment. last time it was his eyes, now it was his hair. the sun rays looming from the unfolded blinds painted his afro a soft brown, singling out and defining numerous strands of those gorgeous spirals sprouting from his head. he was so perfect to you. you often had trouble believing you could call him yours.

“tell me,” miles retorted, slightly angling his head to the left.

“i wore a good outfit for nothing,” you whined, tipping your head back concurrently. “i just got this tracksuit! this is honestly ten times worse than wasting a good outfit on a boring day.”

you had on a black, velvet matching set from juicy couture. it was expensive and you were pissed to have had wasted your first wear on the day you found out your friends aren’t shit. miles remembered how excited you were to buy that outfit. you’d talked about saving the money for it for what felt like forever.

“you didn’t waste your outfit,” miles assured you, drawing confusion to your face almost immediately. “i still have a surprise, you know.”

“right,” your eyes lit up and you sat up straighter, disregarding your mood. “i was thinking about it on the subway and i have a few guesses.”

“i don’t think you’ll be able to guess this one, but you can try," he laughed lowly.

“cookies?” you started.

miles shook his head. “no.”

“a cat?”

“no, mami,” he laughed.

“ummm,” you tapped your chin like you were deep in thought. your dark-colored orbs traveled to the ceiling. “movie marathon night?”

“better.”

you snapped your fingers. “christmas movie marathon night."

“no movies,” miles clarified.

“beyoncé?”

“not beyoncé.”

“i can do your makeup?!”

“nope.”

“you got me,” you rolled your eyes and blew raspberries. “i give up. spill.”

“i know you wanted to go to the fair during the summer, but i didn’t take you because i knew you’d complain about the heat,” miles began. “now that it’s november, i figured it’d be the perfect time to go.”

“oh shit, for real?!” your eyes slightly widened as you swung your legs off of miles.

“i don’t see why i wouldn’t be,” he retorted. “we’ll take the train and walk the rest of the way.”

you jumped off of the couch in excitement and shuffled behind the piece of furniture to grab your purse. you glanced over at miles, who was now scrolling on his phone. you crept up on him from behind the couch and inched close to his ear.

“get up!” you demanded playfully, grabbing his shoulders. miles slightly flinched, and you burst into a fit of laughter at his reaction.

“okay, okay!” he stood up, rolling his eyes and smiling. “i was thinking we could wait a little bit before we went.”

“nope, no time to waste,” you insisted. you’d wasted enough of that with your “friends.”

your boyfriend told you about all of the abilities that he acquired when he became spider-man, one of them being his heightened senses. you used to expect them to go off whenever you were approaching him, or whenever you scared him, but they never did. when you inquired about it, miles told you that his senses were most likely there to protect him, therefore they’d only go off when they felt like someone or something posed a threat. he didn’t elaborate any further, but you got what you needed to out of it.

knowing that miles and his radioactive dna felt safe around you made you feel special.

❤︎₊ ⊹

you hadn't been to a fair since you were ten. you had gone with your cousins, your mom, and your aunt. back then, you weren't smart enough to know how to play any of the games correctly. you weren't tall enough to ride anything that looked cool to you, either. you despised always having to settle for the teacups and the carousel.

going back to the fair wasn't really a priority until that past summer. it just happened to be on the long list of things you wanted to do with miles.

the air outside was cool and crisp and the sun probably felt threatened by the clouds obstructing its view of the city with insomnia. you were relieved to not feel the sweltering heat beating down on you, especially since you had worn the sun’s favorite color in velvet. the leaves on the trees were turning orange now. you were entranced by one tree in particular, watching as the plant detached itself from the branch of the tree and danced in the wind on the way to the ground.

at the front gate, you held out your hand so one of the employees could give you a stamp, as did miles. the stamp was an orange leaf, but it didn't really show up on your darker-colored skin no matter how you squinted.

now that you were there, the fair was much more different than you pictured it to be. though you wanted to experience as much as you could, you had three main goals in mind:  1. win an unnecessarily oversized plush 2. take pictures in a photo booth 3. go on the ferris wheel

as long as you were able to say you did all of those things by the end of that night, you’d forget all the misfortune that the first half of the day bestowed upon you and forgive the universe for allowing it.

as you strolled the fair grounds with miles, you tried to catch a glimpse of everything there was to do as you passed. the fair was bustling with people. there were families, groups of friends, trios, duo. there were also couples, like you and miles. you even saw people by themselves every so often. your day could’ve ended like that, you were elated that you didn’t feel alone anymore, but you’d never say it out loud.

“whatcha wanna do first?” miles asked you. he was being just as observant as you, if not more.

you squinted your eyes ahead and a specific game caught your eye. “let’s play basketball, i’ll definitely whoop your ass this time.”

“big talk for someone who can barely even shoot baskets when we're on the court,” miles fired back. “whoever wins gets to choose what we do next.”

“fine by me,” you shrugged.

you two grabbed a single basketball from your lanes when you got over to the game. you saw miles adjust his grip on the ball from the corner of your eye. you reduced your eyes to slits in response and pressed your lips together.

when the bell rang and the timer began to count down, you both shot your balls into the baskets. both of them made it in. you were doing fine for the first couple of seconds, but then your balls began to veer away from your basket. you quickly glanced over at miles’ scoreboard to find that he was eight scores ahead of you. you furrowed your brows and began throwing balls into the goal again, making the first three shots and missing the last two. you were on autopilot from that moment on, throwing balls at your goal without stopping to celebrate nor gripe.

just as you reached down for a basketball to make another shot, the timer went off, indicating the end of the game. you looked up at your scoreboard to find that you’d only gotten twenty-eight shots. you could already feel miles’ eyes boring a hole through your head, patiently waiting on you to look over at his lane and accept defeat.

you gave in to defeat and scanned his final scoreboard: fifty-eight shots.

you finally looked over at the boy and he was smirking slyly. “yeah, so i’m tryna play the game with the water guns and the targets.”

you would’ve much preferred to find a photo booth next, but a deal was a deal, so you brushed off your loss. neither of you had a map, so you weren't sure where any of the games were. you two agreed to wing it, so you and miles roamed around for a while. you made small talk and miles teased you for being so confident that you'd win the last game.

finally, you came across the mini-game he wanted to play. your face lit up when you saw all the stuffed animals hanging from the rack above. you could get behind this.

the worker was on her phone, visibly nodding off until you two approached the game. you caught a glimpse of her rolling her eyes and shoving her phone in the back pocket of her black jeans. though she was clearly fed up by the presence of you and your boyfriend, she thoroughly explained the rules of the game. miles had to strike down moving targets with a water gun. the targets would move left to right, up and down, or both. he had to shoot all of them to win, and he only got five minutes to do so.

the worker hit the red button and miles was on the clock.

the targets were the typical kind: white circles with red circular stripes, and a red bullseye in the middle. you watched keenly as miles gripped the gun and squeezed one of his eyes shut for precision, pulling the trigger and shooting a line of water at two of the targets with ease. to his surprise, they began to move faster. he was still hitting them though.

the employee was paying miles no mind, already turned around and back on her phone, texting away. even though dealing with those targets was like breathing for miles, he decided to take a shortcut. just for fun.

while the worker wasn’t looking, miles handed you the water gun and used his web-shooters to swiftly shoot down the last five targets. your eyes enlarged at him in a panic and before you could really think about it, you sprayed the webbing off of the targets miles shot down with them.

the worker turned back around when she heard the winner’s bell ringing. by that time, the water gun was already back in miles' hand. the worker stared at the both of you in confusion. miles looked proud of himself. you nervously smiled and shrugged.

the worker rolled her eyes before they traveled over to the selection of toys and stuffed animals just above her. “pick a prize, any prize,” she said unenthusiastically.

“which one do you want, mama?” miles asked you.

“umm…” your voice trailed off. your eyes glossed over all the different plushies until one caught your eye. “stitch for sure.”

the worker nodded and unhooked the stuffed animal from the rack. she quickly handed it to miles and gave him a quick half-assed smile before resuming her bored expression. miles passed you the stuffed animal and you smiled brightly. you remembered this feeling, and you felt like a little kid all over again.

“he’s our son now,” you proudly declared.

“he’s too big for that,” miles teased you. “that’s a grown man.”

you gave miles a dirty look and punched him in the shoulder. “i won’t let you body shame our son.”

“my bad!” miles laughed and put his hands up in defense.

"yeah, whatever," you gave miles an eye roll and grimaced. you clocked the worker glaring at you two from the corner of your eye, so you grabbed miles' hand and hurriedly dragged him away from the booth. "we gotta go before she sees the pile of webs on the ground and has cps investigate us. she already hates us, what if she makes us return our son?”

"that's your main concern?" miles' eyes widened. "not the worker finding out i'm a superhero?"

“why would i be worried about that?" you inquired playfully. "i shouldn't have to lose my baby because you wanted to risk your identity."

you both laughed as you wandered along the paths of the fair aimlessly. neither of you knew what you where you were going next, but you were way too immersed in your debate to think about it. amidst your little parley, the sun finally escaped from the clouds' cover, the sky shifting to a warm orange and light shades of pink instead of the gray it had greeted you with.

“by the way, that was very much cheating,” you chuckled, thinking back to the mini-game. “you need to play fair next time. no web-shooters.”

“we had no opponents,” your boyfriend reminded you.

“the employee seemed like one,” you replied, thinking back to the looks she’d give you two. “i didn’t even know you had your shooters on you… anyway, that means stitch is an accident.” you frowned.

miles' nose wrinkled. “man, what?”

“i’m just chattin’,” you snickered.

“per usual,” miles shook his head, slinging his arm around your shoulder and shaking his head.

you two kept walking aimlessly for a little while, but you stopped dead in your tracks when you spotted a photo booth. you briefly made eye contact with miles before briskly snatching up his arm, pulling him as you sped over to the booth.

“the booth’s not gonna disappear, damn!” miles from behind you, panting with his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

“it could,” you shrugged, gesturing to the curtain with your free hand. “get in.”

“stitch won’t fit in there,” miles pointed out.

you frowned and observed your surroundings. you knew stitch was bound to get stolen if you left him outside unattended. you continued to glance around, trying to come up with a simple, but logical solution. your eyes stopped on an old lady sitting on a nearby bench by herself, flipping through a novel. she had on a white sweater with a black dress underneath, her long hair braided down and resting on her shoulder. you told miles to wait by the booth and approached the woman with a light-hearted smile on your face.

“hi, excuse me," you spoke softly in an attempt to make a good impression.

the lady looked up at you, half-surprised. she adjusted the position glasses with her index finger, gently pushing them up the bridge of her nose. “oh, yes?”

“may you please watch this for me while i take pictures with my boyfriend in that booth over there? i promise we won’t be long.”

you looked back at miles and pointed in his direction. though he was clearly confused, he smiled nervously and waved anyway. you turned back around to face the woman and smiled again.

“of course i will, dear,” the lady replied, a smile gracing her lips. she waved back at miles.

“thank you so much,” you smiled graciously, setting stitch next to her on the bench. you were ready to go back to miles when the woman stopped you by calling out. you whipped around, biding patiently in the same spot until she spoke.

“cherish the memories that you’re making. all of them.”

you didn’t exactly know what she meant, but then your last trip to the fair came to mind. it was so long ago, but you had almost forgotten how much fun you’d had, even if you couldn’t do much. you never wanted to make the mistake of taking memories for granted whilst you’re making them, because then you'd miss them too much when they were in the past, at least that's how you saw it. the future is uncertain. life is cruel. that day at the fair as a toddler could’ve been the first and the only time you ever went. today could be the second and the last. you hadn’t really thought about any of that before. you hadn’t thought about how precious your memories really were.

“and make them with the right people.”

you knew what that meant.

your eyes lowered, confusion evident on your face anyway. “how do i know if they’re the right people?”

“you’ll know. intuition is real. if something feels wrong or right, you'll know. listen to what your body is telling you, my dear,” the lady replied, crossing one leg over the other and opening her book back up.

your eyes widened slightly as you were still a tad bit lost, but you nodded. "okay. i will."

you jogged back to the photo booth, excitement coursing through your veins. miles didn’t bother questioning your tactics this time.

you both sat down in the photo booth and miles drew the curtain shut. he sat back and you tapped the screen, selecting two printouts so you could both keep one. before you even got the chance to retrieve your wallet from your purse, miles was sliding a couple dollars inside the machine. you hadn’t even noticed them in his hand before.

“today is my treat. you’re not paying for anything,” he told you.

“boo. i can’t spoil my man every now and then?” you clicked your tongue. “i’ll get you those comics you wanted instead.”

miles shook his head and chuckled. when the timer on the screen began to count down from ten, you fixed your braids and made sure your clothes looked presentable.

“i have ideas,” you announced to miles. you'd be envisioning this moment in your mind for ages. “just let me lead.”

“you the boss,” miles conceded in compliance.

“cool,” you giggled. you slid your hand under miles' chin and pulled him closer until your lips were pressed onto his cheek. you stayed in the same position with your eyes closed until you heard the first flash. the next photo was simple, a shot of you and miles kissing. the third one was the both of you looking at each other and laughing. it wasn’t planned, but miles had made a joke so you didn’t have time to pose any differently.

in the following ten seconds, you made miles your canvas, scattering kissing all over his face. he was confused until he looked at the screen to see all that your lips were imprinted on his face with colored lipgloss. he kissed his teeth but then laughed. your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, and that was the last photo. it was your favorite.

you waited for the photo strips to print and then left the booth. you immediately snapped your neck towards the bench to see your stitch plushy still sitting with the older lady. you sighed in relief and jogged over to her.

“thank you again!” you beamed, grabbing the stuffed animal.

you had a feeling she knew you were also thanking her for the unsolicited advice. you'd never understand how some older people were so good at reading others.

“you’re welcome, dear,” she waved goodbye and you waved back.

you wouldn’t forget what she told you.

you then went back to miles, expressing how happy you were that stitch wasn’t stolen. you went on and on about what a terrible mother you would’ve been, had you lost your child after not even twenty minutes of having him.

a few minutes later, miles caught you staring at some nearby concession stands. you didn’t eat anything before leaving his flat, but the line was a bit lengthy. you were silently trying to decide whether the wait would be worth it.

“you hungry?”

you nodded, settling for waiting in a long queue over an empty stomach. “starving."

❤︎₊ ⊹

it was getting late now. the sun was nowhere in sight and neither was the end of the night. the cool fall breeze felt nice against your soft skin. you wished that you could live in this part of the day for eternity, playfully bickering with miles as if you wouldn’t cling to him a few minutes later during the drop on a rollercoaster.

up to that point, you had gone on at least thirteen rides and played nine competitive mini-games. miles ended up winning most of them, despite him saying he’d go “easy on you.” you’d always respond to loss by saying you won in your heart, and he’d laugh at you. you’d pretend to be upset until you couldn’t fake it anymore and laughed along with him.

now, you and miles were sitting on grass, the synthetic kind. you two had shared a peculiarly long corn dog. you claimed that was enough for you, but miles ordered nachos too, and you shamelessly snatced up a sizable amount of them. food just tasted better when it wasn't yours.

after hours of being offline, you finally had a phone break. you sent your mom a text to check in with her before navigating to your email app. you scrolled through your recent until you came across the digital copies of the pictures you and miles took in the photo booth earlier sitting in your inbox. “i got the digital version of the photos. they're so cute!" you exclaimed.

miles grinned. “send ‘em to me later on."

“will do,” you agreed, looking back up to see him stood up from the ground with stitch in hand.

“i’ma rent out a locker to keep this guy inside of and then head to the bathroom,” he told you.

“okay, i’ll be here,” you nodded.

whenever you were out with anyone, you always thought it was common courtesy not to reply to texts that weren’t urgent. you never wanted to make anyone in your life feel like your focus wasn’t on them while you were spending time together. that being said, you hadn’t thoroughly gone through your notification center since you were at the mall. since miles was gone for a little, you thought it was a good time to deliver a few textbacks, because you knew that after tonight, you wouldn’t have any energy to do so until the next day.

you didn’t have any notifications from the calculus group chat, no surprise there. you had an older one from your mom from before you checked in, but she was just sending a tiktok. the next one down was tiesha and then adana. a pit formed in your stomach and you nervously chewed on the inside of your cheek. despite the uneasy feeling you had, you opened tiesha’s text first.

tiesha💞: [name] (5:46pm) tiesha💞: miles is your boyfriend?? (5:46pm)

‘not this again’ you thought.

you didn’t know what you were expecting the text to say, but it wasn’t that. this wasn’t a topic you wanted to circle back on, given everyone’s initial reactions. and you thought she knew—you thought everyone knew. maybe you weren’t as close with tiesha as you thought you were. or any of those girls.

you: yes... i’ve said this before (7:34pm)

you: literally with him rn. why? what’s the problem? (7:35pm)

your brows were knitted together as you anticipated a reply, your fingers drawing circles in midair just centimeters above the keyboard. you were biting the left side of your lip and your teeth were close to piercing the skin. tiesha's response came quick despite your late reply.

tiesha 💞: miles morales? the one i told you i like?? (7:36pm)

you read the text and had to do a double-take. your stomach dropped all over again. you had an exceptional memory. tiesha had never mentioned miles to you, like, ever. she hadn't mentioned any crush of hers to you at all. you just assumed she wasn't interested in dating.

you: i don’t remember you saying anything about like any miles.. but yeah he’s my boyfriend. (7:36pm) you: he has been for months now. i told y’all this, so idk why you were acting all confused @ the mall. (7:37pm)

tiesha 💞: if we knew then why would we be acting confused? 😐 (7:37pm)

you narrowed your eyes at the screen. you could tell her tone was meant to be harsh.

you: i don’t know, tiesha. (7:38pm) you: maybe for the same reason y’all were acting confused when you found me by myself at the spot that we agreed to meet at tday?? 🤦‍♀️ (7:38pm)

tiesha 💞: we said you could come hang w us (7:39pm) tiesha 💞: you’re the one who left (7:39pm)

you released an exasperated sigh as you read her response. you thought back to what the lady who watched stitch for you told you earlier. you couldn’t stick around these girls for any longer. they weren’t the people you wanted to make memories with. perhaps they were nothing more than a much needed lesson. you partially learned how to socialize, but you also needed to learn how to stand up for yourself. you were growing up. nobody else was going to do it for you.

you: i left bc you guys were acting weird towards me (7:40pm) you: idk what the deal is, but if there’s a problem you need to be straight up about it. (7:40pm) you: we all agreed to meet at the food court, but i opened ig to see y’all posing in a mirror while i’m sitting alone. why’d you even invite me atp?? (7:40pm)

tiesha 💞: i thought adana was lying when she said you got with miles, behind my back but ig she was right. (7:40pm) tiesha 💞: you weird af for that. you know i like him (7:41pm)

you: fym bro.. ??? 😭 i literally did not (7:41pm) you: and either way, he’s BEEN my boyfriend (7:42pm)

tiesha 💞: yk you only got w him to tick me off 🖕 (7:42pm)

you: ok wtv. (7:44pm) you: you guys showed me what kind of people you really are, so best believe i’m not sticking around anyway. you can tell that to eb else.(7:45pm) you: and i don't know what you thought you were doing. miles has been MY boyfriend for almost over a year now. he’ll continue to be my boyfriend for years to come, thanks. (7:47pm)

you didn't hesitate to leave the group chat and block those girls everywhere. they didn’t get to have access to you anymore. it felt like weight was lifted off your shoulders and you silently celebrated in your head. you were still in public and didn’t want to draw attention to you because you were cheering about cutting people off. at least you were free from the burden, even if you had a few less friends now.

“ready to go to the ferris wheel?”

you glanced up from your phone to see miles towering over you, both of hands in the pockets of his green puffer. you smiled big. this was the last thing on your checklist, and the thing you’d been looking forward to since you set foot on fair grounds.

“duh,” you giggled, reaching your arm out so miles could pull you up. after he did, you brushed off your outfit and cleared your throat. “so, do we know which way it is?”

“nope,” miles answered. “we’ll just start walking and hope we come across a map, or something.”

you raised and eyebrow and smirked. “so like we’ve been doing this whole time?”

“like we’ve been doing this whole time,” he echoed.

“i guess it makes it more adventurous,” you decided as you two began to walk away from the grass. you clasped your hand with his. “plus, i can tell you what happened with tiesha while you were in the bathroom while we look for it.”

miles’ eyebrows elevated. “something happened?”

“yep,” you shake your head in annoyance. “tiesha had a crush on you or something. apparently, she didn’t know we were together, so she thinks i got with you just to spite her.”

“how wouldn’t she know?”

“that’s what gets me!” you pointed your index at miles’ chest and tilted your head back in irritation. “i told her and the other three, so i don’t know why they were acting clueless! plus, she swears up and down i knew she liked you. that girl never said a word.”

“from everything you’ve told me today… it sounds like they just don’t like you,” he frowned, speaking in a way that told you he was trying not to hurt your feelings.

“they don’t,” you sighed, tilting your head up slightly. “that’s why we’re not friends anymore. i told tiesha to tell everyone else we won't be talking anymore.”

"really? are you okay?"

you reluctantly nodded. "yeah, i think i'm okay." you were telling the truth. in the moment, you were okay. maybe it'd bother you later, but all that mattered was that it wasn't bothering you now.

miles’ expression softened in relief. “that’s good. i’m glad you’re learning not to take b.s.”

you covered your mouth and snickered when you heard "b.s." for whatever reason, you thought it was humourous coming out of miles' mouth.

“no, really,” miles insisted anyway. “i’m proud of you.”

you didn’t ask for confirmation because you believed him even if you found the delivery funny. “thank you, miles.”

he smiled and pulled you closer, planting a kiss on your forehead. you grinned and pressed your ear against his arm. you made sure to take in and appreciate each and every step you took forward with your lovely boyfriend. you were cherishing a memory that wasn’t one yet, but tonight felt far too special not to. you absorbed everything to the scenery and the moonlight to the warmth that clinging to miles' arm gave you.

as if it was looking for you two and not the other way around, you and miles found your way to the ferris wheel without even having to seek out direction. surprisingly, the queue wasn’t at all demanding. when you got closer to the front of the line, you thought of something. you needed something to remember your favorite memory by, anyway.

“we should take a picture in front of the wheel,” you suggested to your boyfriend. “we can ask someone to do it for us.”

“bet,” miles pulled his phone out of his back pocket of his jeans.

he turned around and kindly asked a random girl standing in line behind you two if she could take the photo for you. she thankfully agreed and miles swiped to the camera app and handed her his cell. you two backed up a bit and the girl told you where to stand so that the photo would look better. you took a few pictures standing in front of the wheel side by side, miles’ arm around your shoulders. you two were hugging in one of the shots and he was kissing your forehead in the other.

after those pictures, you took miles’ arm and made him face a different direction. now your shoulders were to the camera lens and the ferris wheel. you snaked your arms around his neck and he instinctively placed his arms around your waist. this was one of your favorite poses, miles knew what to do by now.

you glanced down at your feet and took a step closer to miles so the distance you two wouldn’t look awkward. you lifted your head back up to meet his gaze. the boy was looking at you and you could’ve sworn you saw hearts forming in his eyes. he wasn’t just looking at you, he was admiring you. there was a difference, and you could tell.

but it’s not like you weren’t doing the same.

you whispered loud enough for only miles to hear. “i love you."

“i love you more."

you shifted onto your toes and miles slightly leaned down to reach you. your lips connected effortlessly, your eyes fluttering closed in unison. the ferris wheel lights glimmered behind you two as miles deepened the kiss. you mindlessly lifted your hands to his cheek, your thumbs gently caressing his soft, warm skin.

“got it!” the girl taking the photo called out.

you and miles slowly withdrew your bodies apart and she approached you two, handing miles the phone. you both thanked the girl and got back in line. your gaze was fixed on the structure above you. all you could think about was how pretty the sky was bound look from all the way up there.

you excitedly entered the cabin when it was finally you and miles’ turn. the designated employee shut the door and your eyes immediately glued themselves to the window. you were just barely going up, and you already had a better view of the fair and all of the lights.

“you seeing this, miles?” you questioned without even daring to rip your eyes away from the window.

“i am,” he smiled. your reaction to the view made him happier than any angle of the world around him ever could.

as you ascended higher up, you focused more on what was above ground rather than on it. the luminous stars painted the night sky like white spatters of paint would paint a black canvas. they glittered brightly above you while the ferris wheel slowly spun.

you turned your head back to miles to smile at him, but he beat you to it. you felt like the luckiest girl alive. you were thankful to have at least one person who was true to you. that alone was more than enough. 

miles was more than enough.

the moonshine illuminated your beguiling features as you admired its fullness and its beauty. your head was rested on miles’ shoulder and his arm was sitting around your waist, the other one holding your hand in his lap. you knew you’d look back on this and recall that you never took this day or the feeling that came with it for granted, not once.

this felt so right—you didn’t know how to explain it. tonight was perfect and you would never change a thing. everything was how it should be. you were where you should be, you could feel it. this felt right in your soul.

maybe this was it. maybe this is what everyone was talking about.

maybe intuition is real.

❤︎₊ ⊹ bonus:

you and miles had concluded your fair date and were back at his place. you were going to stay for a while before returning to your own. your head was on his shoulder and your legs were curled up in the opposite direction. his hand was evolved in yours, as yours was in his. miles' mom was home and you definitely didn't want to give her the wrong idea by appearing exceedingly handsy.

“i had fun,” you gloated on the day you'd just had as miles browsed through netflix on the tv.

“are you sure? you seemed pretty over it when i beat you at basketball.”

you tongue clicked. "very funny, morales." you thought for a moment. “and thanks for taking me out, by the way. i know you were probably tired from having to fight all morning,” you exhaled.

“it’s no problem,” miles insisted, though you could tell he looked tired. “tomorrow’s sunday, i’ll get some sleep then.”

you both turned your heads when you heard the sound of a door being opened echoed through the hallway followed by rhythmic footsteps. even though you and miles both knew the footsteps belonged to rio, the hallway was dark, so neither you or him could see her until she stepped into the living room. her hair was down instead of being braided or put into a ponytail like it usually was. she was trying to slide a hoop into the earring hole in one of her ears. she was in one of her fancier outfits.

"jeez, you kids been on the couch all day?"

“we went to the fair,” miles replied, a smile tugging at one corner of his lips.

“oh really? explains the oversized oso on your bed. papa, didn’t you use to watch that one show… what was it called? spy oso?”

“special agent oso, mami,” miles corrected her, a hint of embarrassment fermenting in his voice. his teeth were clenched and his eyebrows were furrowed. “and that’s stitch, not a bear.”

you were stifling a laugh, one of your hands shielding the grin on your mouth while the other clutched your stomach. rio didn’t see, but miles did and he rolled his eyes at you.

“i left the snacks in your room, i’ll be right back," you told miles before you got up and disappeared down the hall.

“stitch? what’s a—” rio stopped herself and shook her head. “actually, never mind. how was the fair?”

miles answered her anyway. “it’s an alien, mom. from lilo and stitch. and the fair was good, we had a lot of fun. i can show you pictures later.”

“good,” rio smiled but then broke into a whisper. “miles, mejor la llevas a casa. don’t let that girl wander around all by herself at night.”

“alright, alright,” he put his hands up in defense. “you know i always take her home, calmáte.”

“alright, then. just making sure," rio retorted. "anyway, i’m in a hurry, i’m going to meet your dad, his coworker, and his coworker's wife somewhere. comportarse,” rio cautioned in a stern tone of voice, walking over to the couch and planting a kiss on her son’s cheek.

“i will,” miles promised as his mom hastily walked to the front door.

“tell [name] i’ll see her soon,” rio called out to miles before shutting the door.

a few moments later, you emerged from the shadows that lurked in the hall and took your seat next to miles on the couch. you scooted closer to him and pulled the blanket over both of your legs, handing him his bag of chips then opening your own. he hadn’t chosen something for you guys to watch yet.

“where’d your mom go?” you inquired, looking around.

“somewhere with dad,” miles answered, shrugging his shoulders at the same time. “she told me to say she’ll see you soon though.”

“aww,” you grinned. you really did love rio. you had to stop yourself from chuckling when you recalled her bringing up one of the shows miles used to watch as a kid. as hilarious as you found the whole thing, you held in your laugh anyway. you refocused your attention to the tv on the other side of the coffee table. it didn't take you long to realize that your beloved boyfriend still had yet to choose a movie to watch or a show to binge.

“what should we watch tonight?... homecoming?”

“jesus, no,” miles frantically shook his head, waving his arms around in a panic.

you were referring to beyoncé's 2018 coachella headlining performance movie. you’d made the boy watch the film with you more times than he could count on you two's twenty fingers combined. miles knew the name's every song being performed, the lyrics, and what order they were performed in. he had almost memorized all of the dance breaks, but not willingly. he swore that the word “homecoming” alone triggered some kind of ptsd. miles knew you too well. he was well aware that the renaissance movie would be a homecoming repeat, but maybe ten times worse. he'd been mentally preparing for that as well.

“booooo, you’re boring,” you frowned.

“thanksgiving is coming up, how about that one charlie brown movie?”

“only if we can binge christmas movies after.”

“deal.”

maybemymali ©

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[teddybeartoji]

here are some very random martial arts headcanons for some of the jjk characters bc why the fuck not. btw yes i am aware that most of them practice more than one style of fighting i just think that these are smth that they'd really like as well!!!!

toji likes brazilian jiu jitsu – he got into that a bit later in life, he did more hand-to-hand combat training when he was younger but ever since he discovered brazilian jiu jitsu, he's been obsessed with it. he can use his size and his strength, and his whole entire body and that makes him feel very confident. he's very good at those on the ground throws,, like when he's being pinned down, he always manages to literally toss the opponent off of him and then immediately put him in a hold. it looks incredibly easy when he does it lmao

satoru likes muay thai – HE LOVES DOING SHIN KICKS idk he's so into them. he looks like a maniac when he's fighting btw he's constantly smiling and it's a little scary (it's very hot). since in muay thai there's a lot of elbow and knee hits too you can get very up close to your opponents and i think this is also something he really likes!!!!! mmm during fights he also likes to rile his opponents up lmao

suguru likes wing chun – suguru is the only one i struggled with assigning just ONE style bc i feel like he's veeery very into different types. but wing chun is very fast and it involves punches and slaps and just redirecting the hits coming your way,, wing chun fighters always look so calm while doing it and idk i really think this could be his thing. honorable mention goes to aikido!!!!!!!! he likes it when he doesn't have to hustle around too much, he likes it when he can just put somebody in their place with a mean little grin on his face.

sukuna likes kickboxing – he's all abt that raw power. he loves throwing punches and he's very similar to satoru in the sense that he too, looks like a fucking freak when he's in the ring. they both love the adrenaline so fucking much. in contrary to muay thai, kickboxing has more leg kicks, sooo you can keep your distance a bit more but he's more than fine with that bc that way he can truly show how hard he can hit lmao he has an insane right hook aaand he also really loves doing high leg kicks:333333

megumi likes judo – takes after his dad:3333333 he trained a lot with toji when he was younger but since toji rarely let him win it was mostly just little gumi being a grumpy little sea urchin lmao the fighting styles are both mostly abt grappling and ground work buuut while jiu jitsu is more abt making the other submit by putting them in a hold, judo is more abt throwing ppl around and megumi really likes that. it makes him feel really strong. (he likes to stare down at his opponent after he's just gotten the point i think he can be very mmm cocky sometimes lmao)(he learned that from toji)

yuuji likes wrestling – HE'S THEE BOY EVERRR!!!!! ofc he works out a lot but he's got soo so much raw strength and he loves it when he can put that into use. he's won like SO many competitions lmao i think he's very lighthearted abt the fights though and he has literally no beef with anybody (kind of like hinata yk?)(others definitely have beef with him though bc he's so stupidly strong lmao) he's very concentrated during the match but the second he's won he's got a bashful big grin on his face!!!!!!!!!! he enjoys the sport a lot a lot a lot!!!!

nobara likes taekwondo – IT'S SO MUCH FUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! she loves it and she has been practicing it ever since she was little. she loves kicking and punching she's very energized all around!!!! SHE GOES TO COMPETITIONS ALL THE TIME TOO!!!!!!!!! oh and she and yuuji are constantly sparring despite the fact that their styles are so different lmao (yuuji will get his ass beat bc he's kind of.. afraid to throw nobara)(but then gets called a 'pussy' bc nobara says he should fight her with all his might)

[lustaffairs]

✏️

Smut request with this gif? And dark vibes?

🙏

File room boss

>1k, dark(ish?)!Steve x boss f!reader | masterlist

A/N: ty @milla-frenchy. Steve bc the first line of your javi fic the brat instantly made me want to take steve here 😫

WARNINGS: I8+, mildly? dubcon, piv, orgasm denial, creampie.

--------------------------------------

Murphy had been acting erratic, and you thought he might have been on drugs. You weren't sure if it was the carnage, the divorce, or both. You asked him to see the DEA counselor, but he never went. One morning you got back from a work trip, and he was even more of a mess. He hadn’t shaved since the last time you saw him. His tie was already loosened. His eyes had darker circles. He looked hot, but you were worried about him. You called him into your office and asked him to give you his service weapon. He rolled his eyes, took it out of the back of his pants, and set it on your desk. Then, he braced his hands on the desk like he might push it across the room. He looked at you darkly.

His eyes were glassy. He asked, “That all? Or ya want this too?” His hand went toward his crotch and your heart skipped a beat, but he was only reaching to unclip his badge.

“Keep it,” you told him. “But I’m putting you on file duty until you get your shit together.”

“Oh come on,” Murphy complained. “You wanna catch this guy or not?”

You glared at him for questioning you. Then you said, “Follow me.” You led him into the file room and he sat on a filing cabinet as you showed him the shelves he should go through. You looked back to see if he was paying attention and he was staring at your ass in your skirt.

“Murphy,” you scolded. “Are you there?”

His eyes shamelessly panned over your body. “Yeah, I’m here,” he answered in a trance, then his eyes met yours. “Just need a second.”

“For what?” you asked. He got off the filing cabinet and brazenly adjusted himself before going to close the blinds. He returned with a darker look in his eyes.

“Sit down,” he put his hands on his hips and nodded to the filing cabinet where he had been sitting.

“You’re on thin ice, Murphy.”

“Just sit,” he repeated in a lower, more ominous tone. He wet his lips and watched as you took your seat. The metal cabinet was cool on the backs of your thighs. Complying was the last thing you should have done, but his display of dominance was turning you on.

He loomed over you, crossing his arms. “Know what I think?” He waited for you to say something.

You rolled your eyes. “What, Murphy?”

“I think you're into bad guys.”

Your face heated up at the accusation. He stepped all the way toward you, and his pants grazed your leg. The cabinet was hip height and just wide enough for him to brace his hands on either side of you. Not to be intimidated, you tried not to pull away. You couldn't do anything about the throbbing between your legs, but you didn't have to show it.

“How many ya thought about fuckin’ a Narco?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoffed.

"The Lion's a good-lookin' fella," he mused.

"No way."

He nodded. “I see those 'fuck me' eyes,” he taunted. “I see’em." He froze at the bottom of his nod and locked eyes with you. “But never when I’m on my best behavior.”

“Which is when?” you retorted.

He smiled with a barely audible chuckle, then walked his hands further as he leaned in. His face was a few inches from yours, and he smelled like cigarettes and whisky. Your heart fluttered and you were gushing wet.

“Now's your chance, boss,” he murmured. He brought his lips almost to yours, then barely grazed them. The spark between you was too much. You kissed him.

Right away, his tongue slid between your lips, he cradled your head, and used his knees to nudge your legs open. The force of his kiss and his body brought you down flat beneath him.

After you were laid down on the surface, he groped your breast and you moaned softly into his mouth. Your hips lifted on their own, seeking contact..He broke the kiss to mutter, “Good girl.” Then, with one hand, he unbuckled his belt, undid his pants and began to tug them down. The bulge in his boxer briefs made your breath hitch.

He stood up to further tug his pants down, then he pulled you by your thighs to the very edge of the cabinet. He threw his loosened tie over his shoulder then hiked up your skirt all the way. You watched his massive hands as he ripped open your pantyhose for access and the cool air hit your dripping cunt.

He looked at your cunt and wet his lips. You wanted him too bad to stop it.

“This doesn't change anything,” you told him.

He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head with a contemplative pout. “We’ll see.”

He pulled his underwear down under his balls and you heard yourself whisper, “Jesus,” at the sight of his thick, stiff cock and his big balls.

He nodded and spat on his dick. Then he wet his lips as he ran his swollen tip through your dripping folds and said, “you're gonna gimme my gun back, aren't ya?” You bit your lip and didn't answer, scolding yourself for being so susceptible to this version of him.

He nodded, and when you didn't answer, he began to pull away. Fuck. You could always get him transferred.

You nodded in agreement.

“Good girl,” he whispered, then notched himself at your entrance and shoved inside. You failed to stifle your moan at the stretch, and he quickly covered your mouth with his. He backed up and slid into you again. His lips broke away, then he started slamming into you, pounding you with his big dick. The files in the cabinet were jostling around, then the file cabinet itself started moving and it was all making too much noise. “Fuck,” he breathed and slowed down. You writhed under him, desperate to come. "Door's unlocked, by the way."

"Why??" You whisper yelled, and he didn't answer. He was so reckless, like he had nothing to lose.

“Can't let ya come,” he panted, “you're too damn loud." Fine, you weren't going to beg. This would give you enough to think about and get off for weeks to come. He kissed you and slowly thrust into you for a minute, grunting and sighing quietly.

Then his deep voice broke the silence. “Where ya want it? Inside or on your blouse?”

“Fuck, Murphy,” you whined. “Not on my shirt.”

After a few more thrusts, he bottomed out and pulsed inside you. “Mmm,” you managed to be quiet but not silent. You were so close, but didn't get there. He pulled out right after he finished. Then he put himself together and left the file room alone without a word. Murphy was waiting for you in your office when you got there.

“My firearm?” he asked.

--------

Ty for reading 💕

[bihanspookies]

Which tekken ex!boyfriends would fuck you better than your new bf ever could?

I’m not sure if this is what you had in mind anon but!

Mentions of religious stuff in Claudio’s lmao

Anyway

HWOARANG HWOARANG HWOARANG

HWOARANG‼️‼️‼️

That man is cocky, arrogant, hot headed and it’s mainly one of the reasons you break up

But googly moogly it works so well in the bedroom bc he knows what he’s doing!!!

Sex with him was always an adventure bc no matter where you were, how short the session was, or how much pent up frustration he had he would ALWAYS make sure you came first. Your pleasure is his pleasure and seeing you cum would always more than likely careen him into his own orgasm.

Your new bf doesn’t give you the same thrill and you unfortunately find yourself comparing the way he fucks you to how Hwoarang would. He doesn’t tease you like Hwoarang would, doesn’t have that air of arrogance in his voice that you found yourself missing whenever you were having sex with your boyfriend and he certainly doesn’t have a motorcycle that he could fuck you on.

Victor Chevalier:

I SAID WHAT I SAID AND YOU WILL HEAR ME OUT.

First of all this hc post I did says enough

Second of all!!

Honestly why would you break up with him but you did in this scenario so.

Victor is an older man, like at least somewhere in his late 50’s early 60’s. Combine that with his looks, charm, wealth, and overall lifestyle it basically a recipe for the perfect man who fucks just right.

Older man are more experienced blah blah blah BUT VICTOR? It is very much true for him. He treated you with the upmost respect in and out of the bedroom!!!

Sure your new younger bf is nice and sweet but he doesn’t have the same charm as Victor! Doesn’t fuck the same way! There was something about fucking in the most expensive places ever while wearing the most fabulous silky robes that truly changed the way you viewed sex. Of course none of that is important but bc it was such an integrated part of Victor you grew used to it, used the fancy and lavish type of sex.

Claudio Serafino:

HOT TAKE

But I think he would be on this list.

You break up bc he’d be too dedicated in trying to eradicate all the evil in the world BUT! The moments he does spend fucking you?? God sent.

I think he’d be like Hwoarang in the teasing sense but not as cocky or arrogant about it. He’s so smooth and subtle about it that you don’t even realize he’s teasing, it’s sort of like a game of anticipation.

He can be very cocky and sarcastic when he wants to be though! The times he’s like that you better hold on tight because his teasing can be borderline a bit mean but you like it.

Also I’m not saying he would bring religion into the bedroom but he just might!

That sort of thrill of doing something taboo with someone who is actually an Exorcist?? Your new bf COULD NEV-ER👏.

He helps you discover kinks about yourself and is more than happy to dive further into them.

NEW BF COULD NEVERRRRRRRR!!

BONUS

Anna Williams:

Dommy mommy

That’s it that’s the tweet.

You think anybody after Anna would compare to her?? Hell no!!!! This woman FUCKS!!!! Toys, kinks, pushing limits, etc etc etc. She took you to new heights that you’ve never experienced and presented so many new things into sex for you that truly no one else is going ever top that.

[qiupachups]

hobie brown

.｡.+*☆ headcannons 🎸💭

contents: general hcs, london based hobes bc i live there

a/n: my wife! the picture above is ‘stay close to me— omega sessions’ by bad brains (super cute song and so hobie)

When he’s not playing shows, antagonising fascists, or staging unpermitted political action slash performance art pieces— Hobie takes care of his garden. There’s just about anything growing on his canal boat that can survive London.

It’s fun just like him! He can repurpose whatever he finds into a planter, which includes old Henry Hoovers.

Most things we take for granted are ridiculously scarce in his world, like running hot water. Not wanting to waste this luxury, Hobie developed the skill of taking extremely fast showers.

Sometimes it feels like he steps in and comes straight out. It’s a little unnerving.

Once a month, Hobie does a super deep clean of his canal boat. He finds all sorts of inter-dimensional trash he’s collected over the weeks. After heaving it off the deck, you swear the boat groaned in relief.

Where does it all go? Miguel’s dimension, of course. The man didn’t have to guess the mystery fly-tipper when he saw the bags flickering through the colour spectrum. In Hobie’s defence, the waste disposal system is better in Earth-98.

If you hadn’t realised yet, Hobie is a methodical and thoughtful spidey. He plans for the best times to grow his produce and harvests them at the perfect time (not always since he’s usually… busy).

After freezing or preserving the amount he needs, he gives the rest to his community. So, expect some strawberry jam materialising at your doorstep.

For as longer as he remembers, Hobie could always cook. There was never a time he didn’t help feed his community or volunteer at F.E.A.S.T— even with his responsibilities post spider-bite.

In Hobie’s eyes, there’s nothing better than a good home-cooked meal. He can make something (amazing) from nothing so you can trust him even when it feels like there’s just dust left in the cupboard.

Multiple spideys can agree that Hobie’s singing isn’t the best. When Gwendy gave him a very forced smile, it only broke his heart a little. The face of Hobie’s idol basically admitting his singing sucks isn’t a big deal. Duh. He’s a big girl— he can handle that…

Thankfully, playing his MaryJane (guitar) more than makes up for it. If he’s not using it to torment police, he’ll make the best damn art that’s gonna stick in your head rent free.

With at least eleven piercings and counting, the dos and don’ts of them are like second nature to Hobie. That’s only eleven we can see— who knows how many more he has hidden? Without a doubt, there’ll be more to come.

Instead of getting blood poisoning from Claires or judged by a pretentious tattoo artist, go to Hobie. He’ll refuse payment but he wouldn’t turn down a drink.

Hobie isn’t called the Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man for nothing. His genuine (almost violent) care for his community has earned him the respect of basically everyone, despite their initial concerns.

“A dependable young man.” That’s how the elderly women tend to describe Hobie. They’re his biggest allies since he’d drop almost anything to help them cross a road or carry groceries.

Gwendy’s chucks aren’t the first and certainly won’t be the last thing he’ll steal. (You seriously think Hobie just happened to have shoes in her size and colour?)

He’ll definitely nick something of something of yours when you’re not looking. Once you realise, he’ll hold it high above your head and force you to jump for it. Why? Because he can.

Like every other British teen, Hobie’s dabbled in some underage drinking. It’s not illegal if you don’t get caught! When he’s drunk, he’ll be obnoxiously sweet and yell stuff like “You’re gorgeous, luv!” because he truly means it.

In addition to Hobie’s strange array of skills, being good at pub games is another. Beer pong, darts, etc… you name it: he’ll clear it. Hell, he might start organising them if he’s drunk enough.

In his personal humble opinion, roses are way too cliche for a romantic gift. It’s overdone, boring and stupidly difficult to obtain in his universe. So instead, Hobie rips off that patch you’ve been eyeing and gifts that to you.

As much as he’d like to, Hobie couldn’t rip off every patch for you. Instead, he makes a matching set and he’s cheesy enough to sew his one over his heart.

tag: @vhstown thanks for bean card xx

[obsessivelyours]

First Sight

Yandere/Dark! Vox x Production Assistant!Reader

ok it’s been a hot second since i've posted but i'm back because this concept is living rent free in my mind!! this might get more parts to it, bc i really like concept (also this man has overtaken my subconcious)

tbh this part is pretty tame, but it will definitely get darker as we move along.

tw: VoxVal mentioned, ValAngel mentioned

Ok so, Vox and Val clearly have something on, and it is not monogamous whatsoever. But that song and dance is theirs, and has been for decades.

Val was a loose cannon, one that Vox knew how to soothe and entice but… Val wasn’t his. Val made that clear multiple times— he was a force to be reckoned with and Vox wasn't looking to damage the empire they've worked so hard to build.

But just think of Vox seeing the controlling relationship between Val and Angel. Vox watching as Val’s hand tugs against Angel’s chain, the latter’s eyes dazed from the addicting crimson smoke curling around the pair. Vox could see the way Val keeps Angel close, a stark contrast to his and Val's relationship.

As an overlord, Vox owns many things— thousands of souls devoted to his empire and all the money in hell. But he wanted something that was fundamentally and wholly his. Call it a desperate need for power, or maybe even a twisted desire for control— he wanted more.

Enter, you. a new sinner who Papermint just hired on as a production assistant. Vox watched as you would dart around set, carrying coffee cups, wires, and other odds and ends, all whilst obediently listening to anyone who asked.

Since you had landed in hell, you were determined to keep your head down. It was what had kept you alive, at least until your death. You learned your lesson the hard way, stay out of sight and stay quiet.

You had heard the way the people on set would whisper about your boss, about his hypnotic stare and demanding attitude. You avoided staring directly at Vox whenever you spoke, eyes averted shyly as you would hand over his coffee order and frantically skim your clipboard to ensure you did everything right. Before he could even speak, one of the production managers yelled through your earpiece. You quickly stumbled through a rushed apology and scurried off, not realizing the eyes watching you leave.

You were so high strung— so tense. Vox’s grin grew as he looked at you.

Oh, you were perfect.

From the second he saw you, he knew he had to have you. Something to break, something to mold, something to be wholly his.

It started off small, with everyone on set asking less and less of you. You even noticed some of them be... wary of you? Odd.

You started taking over requests that the higher up production assistants would usually do, placing you right beside Vox everyday on set.

Eventually you were his on-set assistant, catering to his every command. The first time he asked for your opinion made you almost jump.

You were confused at first, but the media nerd in you was ecstatic— shyly offering comments on the script or whatever he was looking at. He would hum in response before giving you a charming grin,

"Thanks, doll."

Vox knew exactly what he was doing, enticing you with sweet words and praise. And the best part was that you were so receptive. He loved the way you blushed at his compliments, or the way you would bite your lip whenever he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. You would hang onto his every word, listening intently whenever you were in his vicinity.

He watched from across the set at your form, scribbling away on your clipboard. You paused, as if feeling his gaze on you, eyes darting up to meet his. Your eyes widened slightly before you shyly smiled at him. He grinned back at you, enjoying the ways he would watch your cheeks turn a bit pink before you glanced back down at your clipboard.

Oh, this will be fun.