#not good for you but i am at the spot where i think i would rather cut years off my life than to keep dealing with pms for 1-2 weeks every
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𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥: Pt 2
Part 1
𐙚 Marcus acacius x fem!reader/emperor geta x fem!reader 𐙚 18+
Summary: You are the Empress of Rome in a mundane marriage to Emperor Geta. After many months, General Acacius is back from war.
Warnings/Contains: fem reader, smut, teasing, edging, rough sex, [slight] dirty talk, unprotected sex, cheating, not proof read,
Word Count: 2k
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Several months had passed since you last saw General Acacius. He had been away at war, compelled by your husband's greed as he seized lands in your royal name.
Occasionally, a friendly letter would arrive, but it lacked the warmth of his presence. That time apart felt like a sorrowful chapter; in fact, you even found yourself respecting your husband more than before. He had even dismissed his other lovers. You never desired a distraction in the form of a lover because deep down, you understood that no one could match the love that the great general had given you.
Simply thinking about him warmed your skin and made your body crave the desire to please. In bed, you would stretch out, arching your back at the thought of him behind you. You slipped your fingers inside yourself and closed your eyes.
You teased yourself, gently grazing your clitoris and rubbing it. Your moans were impossible to ignore from down the hall. Geta pushed open your chamber doors to find you a sloppy mess on the bed. “[Y/n]! It is two hours past midnight. What are you doing awake?”
From your drunken state, you lifted your head. Although tired, the emperor knew when you needed his attention. Your eyes settled in his gaze, your hands on the bed like an untamed mountain lion. Nails dug into the bedding as you arched. Your makeup and hair were messy from earlier in the day; your nightwear held on by the curves of your body.
He shut the door behind him before moving closer to the bed. “Mhhh, please fuck me.” You had never asked for sex so blatantly. No, not his wife. You were busy being rather mysterious, floating about the palace with a certain distance from anything sexual. “Geta.”
Unfamiliar with this side of you, he proceeded with caution. “Y- you, uhm, you should rest.”
You pulled him into bed and lay on the pillows. “Come finger me…then fuck me.” You undid your night gown.
“[Y/n]! What has gotten into you?”
You moved away from him, closing your night gown. “I will not beg you for sex so just leave.” You mutter.
He left you in your bedroom alone. You sighed and lay over the pillows, the scent of desperation on the sheets.
The next day, you woke up late and took your time getting dressed. While you brushed your hair, a servant adjusted the ties of your dress, expertly tying them into silk bows. “Where is Geta?” You inquired sleepily. He would typically watch you get dressed or sneak a glance at least.
"The emperors are attending the soldier's banquet to honor the return of the general and his troops."
“He is back?” You hurriedly left your vanity and dashed through the palace corridors. Entering the dining room, you spotted your husband seated at the table with Caracalla, the general, and several commanders. Meanwhile, the other soldiers were likely indulging in drinks at the city hall dining hall. An open seat was beside your husband, and you took your place there.
Geta rolled his eyes with distain, “Where have you been?”
“Ahem, good morning, my Queen.” The General and his men stood and bowed in your presence.
There was a pause as you looked across the table at the General. “I- I overslept; I am sorry.” You whispered to your husband, “Please, excuse me, Gentlemen, I was caught up with tonight’s celebration.” Acacius distracted himself with a drink.
“Do not be sorry; eat.” Geta said quietly after you were served.
You were the last to leave the dining room, determined to linger a while longer, as if savoring the warmth of the space just a bit more. From one of the entrances, Acacius waited silently, his helmet held loosely between his hip and arm. He seemed to carry the weight of the world with him, looking stronger than you remembered, with deep lines etched into his face and a weariness in his eyes that spoke of countless battles fought and won—at deep costs. A frown rested on his lips, hinting at a troubled mind, as if he were grappling with thoughts too heavy to share in that moment. The once-awkward atmosphere of the dining room felt distant now, fading into a silence that deepened the tension lingering between you. “Hi.” His voice that usual respectful gruff. Nevertheless, nothing could prevent your desire-filled gaze from slithering over his body like warm honey.
You picked at the skin of your cuticles, “Hello.” You looked at your hands before him again. “A lot has happened these months.”
“I have heard.”
“I am glad you are back…and in one piece.”
He stepped into the room, “How have you been?”
A part of you longed to sabotage his efforts by admitting that you had developed feelings for Geta. It felt like a convenient excuse that might save you both from the inevitable heartache that was looming on the horizon. The idea of walking away without the weight of your true feelings dragging you down was tempting. Yet, deep inside, there was still a part of your heart that belonged irreversibly to him, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself otherwise.
You weren't ashamed of what you felt; it was fear that consumed you. Fear of vulnerability, of the raw intensity of your emotions, and of the consequences that might arise from confessing the truth. By the time you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze and meet the eyes of the general, you found him standing firmly before you, resolute and unwavering. In that moment, the weight of unspoken words hung heavily in the air, the tension palpable between you.
Your fingertips gripped the edge of the table, and you felt his chest against yours as you breathed deeply. You grew flustered easily when it came to him, “G- general Acacius…I would like to personally welcome you back home after ahem, your great successes overseas.”
“Thank you, Empress.” He took your delicate hand into his clutch before kissing the back of it. He leaned over you deeper until you lay against the table, supporting yourself on your elbows.
“Marcus, we cannot do this here.” You whisper to him. Your dress began to grow messy with stains as he touched your clothes, disregarding the platters of food, jellies and other delicacies. You moaned as he suckled on the skin of your neck. “My husband-“
He grabbed your waist, pulling you against him. “Your emperor has put me through hell. I have not had a woman in my hands in months.”
“Marcus!”
“I know you are craving me.” He undid the dress off your shoulders, freeing your breasts. You could not bring yourself to lie to him. You were craving him. More than a crave, it was a yearning. A yearning for perfect dick, perfect sex from a man worthy of your precious body.
You held the back of his head as he suckled on your nipple. His hand tucked beneath your dress, gently stroking your clitoris from over your undergarments. Your thighs trembled and your hips bucked to the hot feeling between your thighs.
That gentle flick of his tongue on your aerolas made your head throw back in pleasure. “Marcus! Marcus!” His fingers snuck into the side of your undergarments, gently lapping his fingers over the wetness between your labia.
He looked you in the eyes as he slipped a thick digit into your needy little opening. You nearly came from the overstimulation alone but— “No, no, hold it. Hold that in, my empress.” You whimpered in disappointment as he drew his finger out.
“Mar-“
He placed a firm hand over your mouth and continued to tease your nipples. Your chest rose and fell quickly as your back arched. You could cum from this if he kept going. However, he stopped. Your hard nipples were left exposed and so very sensitive. Again, you moaned with need; this time, pulling him back to you by the collar. “You will make me cum. I need this.”
“Well then. I will make sure you cum. More than once.” He found your opening again; this time he stretched you with two fingers. “I’ll make you cum more times than whatever ‘man’ you have been to bed with.” You nod to his words, bucking your hips with the speed of his thrusting, and soaked fingers.
As you rocked your hips, he withdrew his fingers from your, now throbbing, opening. “Marcus.” A desperate moan left your lips.
“I will have to do this *tonight* though. I have business to attend to.”
“Yes, that business is me.” You pulled him close to you with your legs around his hips.
“Unfortunately, it is not.”
“Marcus. Please.”
He cupped your face in his hand and smiled, “You are so respectful…stay this way, my empress.” Although you had more power than him throughout the empire, when he spoke so condescendingly, his speech rather degrading, you only wanted to kneel before him.
“How could you leave me right now?”
“I am not leaving you again,” he looked down on you, a smile on his lips. It was rather comforting to hear that from him. “You are going to be just fine. Get yourself cleaned up and I will come to you when I am done.”
“But how long will that take?”
He sighed and took off a chain necklace from around his neck. Solid silver pendant and chain sat in your palm. “To prove that I am not leaving, take this. I would never leave without it.” At that point, you wanted to be the necklace, the clothes on his back and the armor on the table beside you. Just anything to be on his skin.
“I trust you.”
He kissed the top of your head and dismissed himself. You slid off the table, disregarding the stains on your dress as you covered your breasts.
So soon after dinner that evening, you found yourself in bed with him.
Tears were brought to your eyes as he held your neck in a chokehold, his hips pounded against your backside. Your eyes rolled back as your breasts bounced against your own body. Sweat, and tears streamed down your face. “Shhh,” Helpless whimpers left your mouth as he held you closer, “It is ok, sweetie.” He huffed into your right ear from behind. Your legs on either side of him trembled and your fingertips did the same, holding onto his strong forearm.
You had so long ago stopped counting the number of times you orgasmed, instead, letting his cock plow your pussy with no fight.
Marcus turned you over onto your side, staying loyal to his arm on your throat. He kept your legs spread and pumped inside your cunt, reaching your g-spot from another Angle. “Marcus!” You dissolved in his arms; your strained vocal cords cried out to him for more. His necklace was around your neck and with every buck, bounced against your breasts.
“You are doing so well.” He grunted into your ear. “You sound so pretty.”
At this point, you were convinced he was put on this earth to solely fuck you. Maybe *you* were put on this earth to get fucked *by* him. Whatever the case, you were not listening to your thoughts. “Y- yes, g- general.” Was all you could muster out. There was nothing in your head. All you could hear were the sounds of his balls slapping your pussy as he grinded deeper inside of you, hitting your cervix. He was going to bruise it and have you limping for the rest of the week, but you didn’t care. Your limping would be a prize for him, one of many.
You came over his cock again for the…well, you were unsure of the count. Just lay there and relax your body. There was no point of gripping him back; your pussy was worn out by now.
“Breathe.” He whispered, slowing his pace, his fingers trailing to your clitoris. You did not have the strength to reply, you only squeezed his arms. His hands gently rubbed your soft body, helping you lay back onto him. He came deep inside of your cunt, holding you still as he caught his breath. A deep moan left his throat. “I’ll let you rest, my empress.”
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♡ So Kiss Me | OP81
NEFERASKINGDOM
Summary: McLaren's annual Christmas party means failed gingerbread houses and confessions in the snow.
SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
The McLaren Technology Centre was buzzing with excitement. Fresh off the high of their constructors’ championship win, the annual Christmas party was in full swing. The sprawling MTC was unrecognizable, decked out with garlands, fairy lights, and a massive Christmas tree standing proudly at the entrance. It was festive, loud, and decidedly not where Y/N wanted to be at the moment.
She leaned against a high-top table near the edge of the room, nursing her drink and watching the crowd. As a PR coordinator for McLaren, she’d spent months working tirelessly managing their socials and was supposed to be enjoying herself. Instead, she was contemplating the pros and cons of sneaking out early when a familiar voice cut through her thoughts.
“Y/N, you’re not entering the gingerbread contest?”
Caroline. The thorn in her side. Caroline worked in marketing and had perfected the art of weaponized politeness. Tonight, she was wearing a sparkly red dress and an infuriatingly smug expression.
“Nope,” Y/N said flatly, hoping the conversation would end there.
Caroline tilted her head, her smile sharpening. “Oh, I see. I guess some people just don’t have the creative touch for it.”
Y/N’s grip tightened on her glass. She didn’t care about the contest… except now she absolutely did. Caroline’s subtle digs always had a way of lighting a fire under her.
“Actually, I’ve decided I’m entering,” Y/N said, forcing a smile.
Caroline blinked in surprise, but she recovered quickly. “Oh, how fun! Can’t wait to see what you come up with.”
As soon as Caroline walked away, Y/N’s bravado crumbled. What was she doing? She didn’t even have a teammate.
She scanned the room, hoping to spot someone who wasn’t already paired up or too deep into their drinks. No luck. Her usual work friends were either tipsy or engrossed in other activities. After a fruitless search, she retreated to a quieter corner of the room, sulking.
“Why do you look like someone stole your Christmas cookies?”
She looked up to see Oscar Piastri standing in front of her, hands in his pockets and a curious smile on his face. He looked effortlessly good in a suit, the tie slightly loosened around his neck.
“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, not wanting to admit her predicament.
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he said, stepping closer. “Come on, Y/N. Spill.”
With a sigh, she relented. “Caroline made some snide comment about me not entering the gingerbread contest, so I decided to prove her wrong. But I don’t have a partner, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to embarrass myself.”
Oscar’s brows lifted in amusement. “That’s it? Easy fix. I’ll be your partner.”
Her eyes widened. “What? No way. You don’t have to do that. This is your party. You should be… I don’t know, celebrating.”
“I am celebrating,” he said with a grin. “And what better way to celebrate than helping you crush Caroline?”
She hesitated, but the sincerity in his eyes won her over. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m terrible at this stuff.”
“How bad could it be?”
Very bad, as it turned out.
“This wall won’t stay up!” Y/N groaned, holding a piece of gingerbread that stubbornly refused to stick to the icing.
“Maybe we didn’t use enough icing?” Oscar suggested, frowning at their rapidly deteriorating structure.
“I think the problem is that we’re bad at this,” she said, trying not to laugh.
“Speak for yourself,” he shot back, his smirk widening. “I’m an innovator. This is modern architecture.”
“If by ‘modern’ you mean it looks like it’s about to fall over, then yeah, you nailed it,” she shot back, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her grin.
They both burst out laughing as the roof caved in, sending a handful of gumdrops skittering across the table. Around them, other teams were building masterpieces: sleek houses with intricate frosting designs and perfectly placed candies. Meanwhile, theirs looked like it had survived an earthquake.
“This… this looks like something a five-year-old made blindfolded,” Y/N said, choking on laughter as she gestured at the crumbling mess. “It’s somehow defying gravity in all the wrong ways!”
Oscar wheezed, leaning on the table for support. “Hey, it’s abstract. We’re pushing the boundaries of what a gingerbread house can be.”
“Right, because ‘falling apart’ is such a bold statement,” she teased, wiping tears from her eyes.
They tried to salvage their creation, but every attempt made it worse. Oscar’s attempt at adding a candy cane chimney resulted in the entire roof collapsing again, while Y/N’s decorative icing turned into an unintentional Jackson Pollock painting.
“This is a disaster,” Y/N said, though she couldn’t stop laughing.
“The best kind of disaster,” Oscar said, his tone warm. “Seriously, who cares what it looks like? We’re having fun, right?”
Y/N looked at him, her laughter fading into a softer smile. “Yeah, we are. Thanks, Oscar. You’re a really good friend.”
His expression shifted slightly, like he wanted to say something more, but the moment was interrupted by Caroline sauntering past with her flawless gingerbread mansion.
“Oh, Y/N, it’s so cute that you’re trying. It’s all about having fun, right?”
Y/N forced a tight smile as Caroline walked away. “I hate her.”
“Hey,” Oscar said, nudging her gently. “Forget her. Look at what we made. It’s got… personality.”
Her smile returned, though it wavered slightly as she glanced at the crumbled mess of icing and gingerbread. “Personality is one way to put it.”
Noticing the flicker of disappointment in her eyes, Oscar leaned in, his voice lower and more earnest. “Hey, don’t let her get to you. She’s not worth it.”
Y/N gave a half-hearted shrug. “Easier said than done.”
Oscar studied her for a moment before straightening. “Come on. Let’s get out of here for a bit. Fresh air might help.”
The chill of the night air was sharp against Y/N’s cheeks as she and Oscar wandered the grounds of the McLaren Technology Centre. The party noise had faded into the background, leaving only the quiet sounds of leaves crunching beneath their shoes and the soft rustle of wind against the nearby trees. Y/N hugged her arms around herself, her thoughts drifting as she glanced over at Oscar. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets, his posture relaxed but his gaze attentive.
Oscar broke the silence first, his voice warm and conversational. “You’ve been quiet. What’s on your mind?”
Y/N smiled faintly. “Just… everything. The party, the season, life. It’s been a crazy year.”
“Tell me about it.” He shot her a small grin. “But hey, at least we’ve survived.”
She laughed. “Barely. Some days I wasn’t sure I would. Between the endless PR work and trying to keep up with you drivers, it’s a miracle I’m still standing.”
“Oh, come on,” he teased. “You love it. Admit it.”
“I do,” she admitted, her tone softening. “It’s exhausting, but it’s worth it. Especially when I get to see moments like tonight. You guys deserve it, you know?”
Oscar’s smile turned bashful. “Thanks. It still feels a bit surreal. I keep thinking I’ll wake up tomorrow and it’ll all be a dream.”
“If it is, it’s a pretty damn good one,” she said.
They fell into a comfortable rhythm, their conversation meandering from the highs and lows of the season to lighter topics. Y/N found herself laughing more than she had all night, her usual guardedness slipping away in his presence. It was easy to talk to Oscar, too easy, and she felt a familiar flutter in her chest every time he smiled at her.
Snow began to fall, light and gentle, dusting their hair and coats. Y/N’s eyes lit up as she stopped in her tracks, tilting her face upward. “It’s snowing!”
Oscar chuckled, watching as she spun in place, arms outstretched like a child. Her laughter rang out, clear and bright, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. She was beautiful, her joy infectious, and for a moment, he forgot about the cold entirely.
“You’re going to freeze,” he called out, amusement lacing his tone.
“I don’t care!” she replied, still twirling. “Look at how perfect it is. It’s like something out of a Christmas movie.”
Her spinning slowed as she stumbled slightly, and Oscar stepped forward instinctively, steadying her with his hands on her arms. She looked up at him, her breath visible in the cold air, and suddenly the world seemed to shrink around them. The snow fell quietly, the moment suspended in time as their eyes met.
“You’re shivering,” he said softly. Without waiting for a reply, he slipped off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders. His hands lingered for a second, his touch warm against the cold fabric.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her heart raced as she stared at him, the closeness between them making her acutely aware of every small detail—the flecks of gold in his eyes, the way his breath hitched slightly as their gazes locked.
Her mind raced, a chaotic swirl of emotions. She’d always felt something for Oscar, but she’d buried it under layers of professionalism and self-doubt. Now, standing here with him, she couldn’t deny it any longer. She liked him. She more than liked him. And judging by the way he was looking at her, the feeling might just be mutual.
Before she could overthink it, Oscar leaned in. The kiss was sudden, catching her completely off guard, but she melted into it almost instantly. His lips were soft, warm against the chill of the night, and the world seemed to blur at the edges as her heart pounded in her chest.
When they broke apart, her breath came in shallow gasps. “Oscar…” she began, her voice shaky.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, stepping back slightly. “I shouldn’t have—”
“No,” she interrupted, reaching out to grab his hand. “Don’t apologize. I… I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “You have?”
She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. I just didn’t think you…”
“Are you kidding?” he said, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Y/N, I’ve liked you since the day we met. I just didn’t want to mess things up.”
Her heart swelled at his words, and she felt a giddy rush of joy that made her want to laugh and cry all at once. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” she said, her tone playful.
“Yeah,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “But I’m your idiot, if you’ll have me that is.”
She didn’t reply with words. Instead, she pulled him into another kiss, this one deeper and more urgent. His hands found her waist as hers tangled in his hair, the world around them fading into insignificance. She pressed against him, her back meeting the rough bark of a nearby tree as their kisses grew more heated.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their faces flushed despite the cold. Oscar rested his forehead against hers, his hands still on her waist.
“So,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “do you want to head back to the party, or…?”
She hesitated, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “But this is your celebration party. Everyone’s here for you.”
He grinned, his eyes sparkling. “I’d rather celebrate in a different way.”
She stared at him, half in shock and half in amusement, before bursting into laughter. “Oscar Piastri, I didn’t know you had game.”
He laughed with her, his hand slipping into hers. “Come on,” he said, tugging her gently toward the parking lot. “Let’s get out of here.”
As they walked away, hand in hand, the snow continued to fall, blanketing the world in quiet magic. For the first time that night, Y/N felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.
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Christmas Guard
Summary: Dean won’t let you down.
Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader
Warnings: fluff, Christmas fluff, sneaky kids
He's on guard. Dean cannot allow anyone to enter the room. It would mean the end of…simply everything, at least to him.
“No one shall pass,” he says, imitating Gandalf the Grey. He chuckles at the reference to one of Sam’s beloved movies. “Wait for it, you little shits.”
He lays out a mat and two blankets on top of it. “This year, you will not defeat the master. Not again. I’ll protect them at all costs.”
“Dean?” You sleepily rub your eyes as you walk toward the library. “What are you doing? It’s three am; come back to bed.”
“No!” He shakes his head. “They will try to get inside again! I cannot allow them to do it again. Not on my watch!”
You smile at Dean. He’s so eager to defend the library, that he forgets about sleep and even food. “I know you’re on guard duty, so I brought you something.”
Sitting next to him on the mat and blankets, you hand him a paper bag filled with goodies.
“Beer, beef jerky, and pie,” he hums while inspecting the emergency ration for tough alphas and former hunters. “Uh—and you got me a candy cane too!”
“All for my strong alpha defending the Christmas tree and gifts,” you kneel on the mat to kiss his cheek. “Do you want me to stay, Dean?”
“No, you'll get some sleep. You were on a hunt for the perfect gifts for weeks and wrapped all the packages. The least I can do is keep our little critters away from the gifts till Christmas morning!”
“Do not forget to eat the cookies and drink the milk,” you say and kiss his scruffy cheek again. “My hero. Past. Present. Future.”
“Alright, ma’am,” he chuckles. “I’m on guard duty now. Please do not distract me with your beauty and perfect scent.”
“If you change your mind, let me know,” you coo before ruffling his hair. “There’s a spot in my bed for you, sexy alpha.”
He purrs low in his throat but reminds himself he cannot let the little shits win. Last time, Dean Jr. distracted him to give Bobby Jr., Charlene, and his youngest Louise the chance to sneak into the library and rob most of the gifts. This won’t happen again.
Dean grabs the beef jerky, ripping it open with his teeth. “Wait for it, little critters. I’ll not let you get away with stealing the gifts again. This time, Daddy is prepared.”
“Not so fast, Dean Jr.!” Dean is fast to stop his eldest from sneaking toward the Christmas tree. “Go back to bed or Santa will be mad!”
“But Daddy,” Dean Jr. pouts. He tries once again to distract his father, but Dean knows better. “My stomach hurts.”
“Not. A. Chance.” Dean shakes his head. “Go. Back. To. Bed.”
“Fine.” Dean Jr. turns on his heels and hurriedly walks away.
Dean chuckles because his eldest looks so much like him when he walks away, his hands stuffed into his pockets.
“DADDY!” Half an hour later, it’s Charlene’s turn to distract her father. She fakes a sob and clumsily walks toward Dean. “Daddy, my tummy hurts.”
Dean nods thoughtfully. He opens his arms for a hug.
“Come here, baby girl,” he murmurs as she runs toward her father to jump at him. “You’re a good accomplice, Charlie, but Daddy knows your tummy doesn’t hurt. Tell your brother he failed. Again.”
“Damn it!” She curses before pecking Dean’s cheek. “You’re good…too good…”
Charlie giggles before running off to report back to the leader of their little conspiracy.
One hour later, the next try takes place. Bobby Jr. silently sneaks toward the Christmas tree, almost getting away with it as Dean is busy eating his pie.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He laughs and picks the four-year-old up. He plays airplane with his son before carrying him toward the gang waiting for their member. “Not good enough, Dean Jr.” Dean grins as his eldest and Charlene giggle.
“You haven’t faced our secret weapon yet!” Dean Jr. exclaims before taking Bobby out of his father’s arms. “You’ll fail, father.”
The gang rushes off, chatting loudly, as Dean decides to move his improvised bed closer to the tree and the gifts. He won’t let his sneaky son win this time.
“DADDA!” Two hours later, Dean Jr. uses his best weapon. His baby sister, Louise. She whines and makes a fuss while crawling toward her father. She almost reaches the tree and the gifts, but Dean is fast to pick her up.
“Nice try!” He laughs, slowly rocking his daughter in his arms. “Respect, ladies and gentlemen. Admit your defeat and try again next year.”
Dean can hear his sons and daughter mutter. They were so close to distracting their father. “Next year, we will win!” Dean Jr. says before guiding his siblings away from the library.
“That’s the spirit, son,” Dean proudly says. “You make a great leader.”
When you walk into the library, the gifts are still under the tree, along with your alpha and your baby girl.
She lies on top of her father’s chest, sleeping soundly, while he has his arms wrapped around her. Dean made a nest out of the blankets to keep her from getting hurt if she fell off his chest.
“So, your mission was a success?” You giggle when your alpha blinks his eyes open. “A job well done. Can I call the kids in now?”
“Give me a minute,” he yawns. “I think Louise needs a fresh diaper and her favorite drink.” Dean grins as his eyes land on your breasts.
“We will fix our little princess’s diaper and feed her first,” you coo while picking your daughter up. “Give me half an hour.”
“Santa was here,” Dean calls for your kids, telling them they can finally take a look at the tree and the gifts. “Let’s have a loo—” He yelps as his kids storm toward the tree, almost running him over. They squeal and laugh while looking at all the gifts.
“Dadda,” Louise holds out her chubby hands for her dad. “DADDA!”
“Aw, at least my princess wants to cuddle with Daddy instead of wrapped gifts,” he sighs and takes Louise out of your hands. He rocks her in his arms, looking at the tree.
“DADDY!” Your kids yell before hugging their father. “We love you and Mommy. Let’s look at the gifts Santa got for you and Mommy first…”
Tags in reblog.
#dean winchester#dean x reader#dean winchester fanfic#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x reader#a/b/o#alpha!dean winchester#x reader
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Connection ~ Carlos Sainz
Part one
Mafia!Carlos Sainz x Fem,Arranged!Reader
prologue part two
Synopsis: How will we get Carlos to agree to a marriage he doesn’t want?
Warnings: smut 18+ eventually, violence, toxic!carlos
Carlos was sitting at the breakfast table; notably not at the head spot, where his father use to sit. He was reading paperwork and eating an omelette prepared by his chefs, when his mother walked in.
“I found her!” she stated as she sat across from him. She was no longer wearing her mourning clothing. She was dressed in a mauve dress, amethysts decorated her ears and neck. Purple had always been her color. Her hair was up in a french twist, her signature style. She was back to herself again.
“Found who?” Carlos asked, not looking up from his work again. He had been very busy ever since he took over the business.
“Your wife”
The words stopped Carlos in his tracks. He slowly looked up at his mother. He hadn’t expected it so quickly, or for her to make the decision of who it would be. “What? No, if I must get married, I should be able to at least choose who I will get married to”
“Carlos” she sighed “sweetheart, your taste in women has never been exactly, shall I say, stellar” She grabbed his hand, the absence of her wedding ring becoming apparent “Besides, this girl is a family friend. Shes very sweet and very pretty. Her father is f/n l/n”
“y/n?” Carlos was shocked; he remembered the girl from gatherings early in life. It had been a long time, her father stopped bringing her to such events when she was four years old. Him and y/n used to be close friends. They had played together and even got fake married once. Ironic.
“Yes, I saw her a few years ago at her 16th birthday party. Shes a very nice girl. Perfect for the family. Plus consider it a gesture to her father. Him and Carlos always got along. You haven’t spoken to him since the funeral”
“Mother I respect you I do” she sat back “But, I will not marry this girl” I stood up “ I hardly even know her! If I must marry someone… I and I alone will choose who it will be”
“Its too late Carlos” She stands straightening her dress “I have already discussed this with her father. This marriage will be happening.”
“This is ridiculous! You aren’t in charge of me anymore!” Carlos leaps away from his chair wildly gesticulating at his mother “My father is dead… I am in charge you can’t undermine my authority like that!” he puts his hand to the bridge of his nose “Mother what exactly did you tell her father?”
——————————————————————————
“When I was discussing it with Reyes we had couple key things we talked about…” your father stated. You were now in a crowded room with your father at the head of the table; you were seated to his left. “First, you will get married before the end of the year, most likely in December”
“So soon?!” you say, shocked. Everything was happening so fast, it was already August.
“Yes, Darling, soon. Aswell as on the subject of children—“ his voice faded out you started to think about all of the choices being taken from you. This stranger you never met would choose where you live, how many children you have, and how you live your life. Everything would be so different.
“— this whole thing is good for the family; it keeps us involved, which is good. Carlos Jr. and myself never got along as well as his father and I” your father finished out as you regained your awareness of the situation.
“So I have to go live with him? and have his babies?” You question “How are babies even made?” an awkward silence sweeps over the room at the question. You look to your father while he looks away. Then to your brothers who are sharing glances with each other. You look at your mother last, shes looking right at you, pity on her face.
“Y/n, darling, that is something for the two of us to discuss at a later date” you slump into your seat, frustrated at the lack of information.
“Anyway, I will set up a dinner soon for the two of you to meet. Your mother and I, along with Reyes will also be attending” this cause some outrage from yoir brothers; they had always been protective of you and didn’t understand why they couldn’t go.
——————————————————————————
The dinner was not what you expected, neither was Carlos. He was seated at the head of the table, you had to admit he was very handsome; he was dressed in nice clothing, obviously very expensive and tailored to his body. You were seated on the opposite end. Your parents between you.
Despite the silence that plagued the dinner while you were eating, your parents decided to bring a conversation between the three of them to the study. Leaving you and Carlos alone.
“So, what are your hobbies?” You ask, trying to get to know the man that you will soon share your life with.
“I don’t have any, to busy”
“Alright, well, do you like kids?” you try
he sighs “look you don’t have to… we arent gonna…” he pauses briefly standing up “we aren’t getting married”
“What?”
“My mother set this whole thing up… I’m sorry you seem like a nice girl. But, I don’t even know you. I’m sure you don’t want to marry me.”
“Its just business”
He laughs a little “I don’t understand—“
“Thats what my dad said, its just business. We’ll get married, have kids, share responsibilities.”
“Darling, do you even understand what those responsibilities are?”
“Don’t!” You stand up quickly realizing what you did and then sit down “Please, don’t call me that.” you take a deep breath “I may not know everything but I am willing to learn my responsibilities I take that seriously”
“Do you want to marry me?”
“I…need too.”
He looks you, he seems to be contemplating something. “Alright then.”
——————————————————————————
You were sitting in your dinning room waiting for dinner when your parents arrived.
“Darling, I don’t know what you did but I am proud of you!” your father exclaimed as he was seated “He’s going to marry you”
“Really?” You were surprised “He said he didn’t—“
“Well, he changed his mind” your mother interrupted
“He really changed his mind, the wedding has been moves up!”
“Moved up? to when?”
“October, you are getting married in October!”
@formulas-bitch
#carlos sainz series#carlos sainz#carlos sainz smut#carlos sainz x reader#f1 x reader#f1#arranged marriage#mafia!carlos sainz
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Set in sand - Chapter 8
We mark the year 1934 and a peculiar journal falls into your hands. It's telling the tale of an outlaw and the downfall of a gang. Some pages are torn and others are downright unreadable, but nevertheless, you are still able to make out some parts of the tragic story.
With the help of a certain time traveler friend of yours, will you be able to safe the author of the journal or will you be the cause for his demise?
Previous chapter
Next chapter
Word count: 3316
TW: end-game spoilers will be mentioned very early on in the story, 18+ MDNI, sexual themes, violence, gore, death, misogynistic themes (anything that happens in the game as well)
Everyone in camp is on high alert and doing their best to pack up everything as fast as possible. No matter how much you keep yourself busy by putting as much on your plate as you can, you're still unable to shake off the concern you feel for Arthur.
It's nibbling at you, feeding on your anxiety and you catch yourself listening for the familiar sound of hooves approach or looking out for a flash of black from his hat between the trees. Something dawns on you then.
I could leave during this commotion.
Not a single person would notice and you'd even bet money on that. A strange mix of guilt and betrayal spreads in your chest for just considering that option though and you shake your head. This is bad. Really bad.
-
"I'm just worried that it might get to you.", Francis comments and you wave it off.
"What? Are you worried that I might find out how amazing of an outlaw I am?", you tease with your lips curled up into a smirk.
The red head shakes his head in both amused disbelief and frustration. "No, but think about it. You will live with these people, possibly even befriend them. Leaving them behind could proof to be difficult."
His words make sense, but you're not too concerned about it. Arthur Morgan is the only person you have to build up an at least decent relationship with and besides, you highly doubt that you'll manage to properly befriend anyone there.
They're all criminals and you're not. These are two different worlds.
-
I'm a criminal like them now.
It doesn't happen everytime, but every now and then when you close your eyes you see the faces of the two men you killed. One a contorted mask in terror and shock from above and the other a cruel, bloody pool from below.
It's haunting to say the least.
"Arthur! Have you been followed?", you hear Dutch call out and you quickly turn on your heels to get a better look at the man who you've been so worried about this entire time.
His clothes are dirty and he's panting heavily, but you can't see any injuries on him. Not even a speck of blood on his shirt or pants. That's a good sign.
Unfortunately he's not staying for long, because Dutch almost immediately sends him away with Charles to check out a potential spot to set up a new camp. Someone pushes you harshly from behind and you let out a startled yelp.
"Move it! We ain't got time!" Miss Grimshaw's scolding puts you right back to work and you completely forget about the fact that your departure is long overdue.
---
The spot Arthur and Charles have found for the gang is directly by a river and close to a town called Rhodes. You remember reading the name in the journal and recall two families living nearby.
If your memory can be trusted then they're supposed to have some serious feud or so. It would be smart not to get too involved, but you never know with Dutch.
Together with Sean, Karen and Lenny you sit at a table and listen to the Irishman boast about that one trainjob back in New Hanover, the one where you helped steal the oil wagon. How many times has he talked about that now?
"And then that gobshite hit me on the head, but that didn't faze me at all!", he proudly exclaims while puffing out his chest a bit and you fight back an eye roll.
Even Karen who is usually glued to his lips seems a bit indifferent towards the tale. Lenny on the other hand looks quite troubled as if something is weighing heavily on his mind.
"Sean! How about you stop fucking around and instead lend me a hand!", Bill yells over the entire camp and earns himself an annoyed grunt from the red head.
"If you'll excuse me. I have important business to attend to." With these words Sean leaves the table and you shake your head once he turns away.
"I wonder how often he will talk about that.", you comment and get a rather hasty nod from Karen.
Shortly after she gets up from her seat as well. It's her turn to stand guard at the edge of camp. So now it's just you and Lenny and you decide to investigate what's been bothering him so much.
"You okay?", you ask and furrow your eyebrows in concern. The young man let's out an aggravated sigh and scratches the back of his neck.
"I don't know. Sean keeps bragging about all the money he brings in and I guess I feel like I'm not contributing enough.", he hesitantly admits and you place your hand on his shoulder.
As you two lock eyes, you give him a soft squeeze. "Don't take everything he says so seriously. You've heard what Arthur said about the train job."
The outlaw wouldn't shut up about how much Sean was overwhelmed with the task of checking the baggage wagon. He still mentions it regularly, because it gets such a rise out of the Irishman.
"You're right, but I still feel so...I don't know."
You pull your hand away and give him a reassuring smile. "Don't see this as a competition. Everyone knows how much you're doing for the gang."
"Maybe, but it would still be nice to have something to show to the others, you know?", he says and you nod.
Of course you know. That's the whole reason why you decided to learn how to steal from people. Now that you think of it you should maybe also focus on bringing some money in again.
The few dollar bills from that one guy from Valentine definitely aren't enough. Sure, you helped with the oil wagon, but got yourself kidnapped right afterwards and you feel like that overshadowed your accomplishment with how much effort they had to put into your rescue.
"How about we head into Rhodes and talk to the people? To look for a lead, I mean.", you suggest and Lenny's lips curl up into a wide grin.
"Sounds good!"
Together you ride on his horse towards the nearby town and he hitches it outside the post office. There you split up and he heads deeper into Rhodes while you decide to pay the saloon a visit.
With your newly acquired experience in scamming people, you slip into your charm and head straight to the bar to order a drink. As you still try to decide which role to play as and the bartender pours you a whisky, you overhear a conversation at the table next to you.
"They're gonna send me out to Saint Denis to drive this bank coach.", a man says in an almost hushed voice and you throw a quick look in his direction. Two men are sitting across from each other and slightly bend over the table.
How very secretive.
Casually you sip at your drink and pretend to admire the many different bottles behind the bar counter while you focus all your attention to the conversation. If there's anything you've learned so far then it's that bank coaches are a promising steal.
"But you won't drive alone right?", the other man asks.
"Of course not, you moron. Yes, this shithole is a backwater place, but that thing will be loaded with money. Only a fool would make this a one-man job."
You linger a bit longer at the bar with the hope of finding out the exact number of guards that will be assigned to this coach. They might even spill when and where the coach will pass.
Perhaps you should stroll over and make yourself acquainted with them? There is a chance that the guy will even tell you all that himself if you get him drunk enough.
In one go, you finish the glass infront of you and brush your fingers over the right pocket of your coat. The light bulge of the Schofield inside gives you a sense of comfort, especially now that you've gotten so much better at shooting.
And especially now that you're a bit less scared of using it against a person as well. Quickly you fix up your appearance a little and confidently saunter over to the table.
"Hey, boys.", you say in a sultry voice and curl up your lips into the sweetest smile you can muster up.
Both of them give you their attention pretty much immediately and you tilt your head in innocent curiosity. "Do you mind if I join you for a drink or two?"
"No, ma'am! N-not at all!", the coach driver says and hastily pulls out a chair for you.
Now let's get to work.
---
By the time you're done faking your interested, getting both men absolutely hammered and squeezing them of every last drop of information, the sun is beginning to set. These guys would probably sell out their own mother over a few drinks and attention from a pretty lady.
The sunlight from outside is drowning the interior of the saloon in a warm, orange hue and you feel your eyelids growing heavy from both providing entertainment and drinking.
Much to your relief you see, in the corner of your eye, Lenny push open the front door and you wave at him. His face lights up the moment his eyes fall on you which is a vast contrast to the two men you're still sitting with.
As they notice you lock eyes with the young man, their features darken as if they've just received bad news.
"Who is this boy?", one of them mumbles irritated and you stand up from your chair.
Even though you have made sure not to drink too much to keep a clear mind, the alcohol still gets to you. You should have definitely eaten something before heading into town, but alas.
"He is my ride home. Now, gentlemen, if you'll excuse me."
Just as you're about to walk away, one of the men grabs you by the wrist and gives you a sickening grin, one you've seen before not too long ago. Mental images of the O'Driscoll boys who have abducted you flash before your inner eye and you feel something strange boil up inside your chest.
"Aw you can't just leave like that, miss.", he says in a feigned nice tone and his eyes roam over your figure.
The wide grin on his face reveals a set of yellow, crooked teeth and the stench of alcohol hits you in the face like a freight train. You give your hand a light tug, but his grip on you is tight. He isn't intending to let you go so easily.
He says something else, but you're unable to hear what it is. The blood rushing through your ears drowns it out completely and it's as if someone has put a veil over your head.
Your body is on autopilot and with your free hand you fish out the Schofield from your pocket and point the other end of the barrel right at his forehead. His eyes go wide in shock and he quickly lifts his hands up, letting you go in the process.
"I was just jokin', miss.", you hear him say, but it sounds like he's talking to you from another room. His voice is so far away.
That's also when you feel Lenny's hand gently tugging at your arm and you blink a couple times after you snap out of the weird trance. Everyone in the saloon has their head turned in your direction and they're all staring you down.
Some of the faces reveal fear and others carry an unspoken warning with them. Without saying another word you lower the revolver and let Lenny drag you out of the building in the direction of his horse.
"It's a bit early to make enemies, wouldn't you agree?", he says and you brush your hair out of your face.
"I'm sorry.", you mumble and he give you a quick look which you can't quite decipher.
"What was that just now?", he asks and you shake your head.
Indeed, what was that? You're not sure if you can quite explain it yourself. "No idea."
Thankfully he doesn't question you any further and you ride back to camp in awkward silence. After a while you clear your throat.
"So got any interesting leads?" Your attempt to lighten up the mood is pathetic, but he doesn't comment on it.
"Some feller told me about this place, Shady Belle. Apparently there are some good weapons and money."
You nod. "Worth stealing."
"My thoughts exactly.", he answers as you two reach the camp. "I just need to figure out who I could bring with me. I was thinkin' about Arthur maybe."
That's a good choice and the two of them get along so well with each other. When you found out about the bank coach you were also playing with the thought of bringing Arthur on board as well, but you're not sure if he'd want you there.
It still seems like he doesn't quite trust you with big jobs just yet. Especially not after the whole ordeal with the O'Driscolls. While Lenny hitches the horse you tell him about your own findings and he gives you an impressed look.
"That's a good lead, actually.", he admits and you throw your hands in the air.
"Thank you! I just have to figure out what to do next." It's no secret and no surprise to anyone that you lack the knowledge or experience regarding robberies like this.
Or well, robberies in general and you desperately want to change that.
Why? I will be leaving soon anyways. I should have left already.
But it doesn't hurt to extend the stay a bit. Right?
I might have saved Arthur from tuberculosis, but that could have changed the timeline and now something else could kill him.
Exactly. You're only staying here for now to make sure that nothing else happens to him. That's a good reason and you're doing a good thing.
Lenny rips you out of your inner monolog. "If you need help you can always come to me. I might not have been long in this business, but I know a thing or two."
His joke earns him a laugh from you and you give his shoulder a friendly pat. "Thank you. I'll remember that."
With that you part your ways and you make your way closer to the river. There's a log you can sit down on and you sweep the sand off it before you take the seat. You replay the events from the saloon in your mind as you stare out towards the almost still water.
You still can't explained what might have happened there. Perhaps it was your survival instinct that kicked in? Possibly.
A sigh escapes your throat and you feel someone rest down right next to you. Arthur holds out a cup of coffee and you murmur a quick 'thank you' before taking it.
Not everyone in 1899 seems to know of hygiene and you obviously didn't expect for people to smell like roses when you traveled back here, but there's something about Arthur's scent that you really like.
It's not like he takes a bath everyday, but he doesn't smell bad at all. Whenever he's near you, an aroma that reminds you of the forest after heavy rain fills your nose with an undertone of cigarette smoke.
Is it weird that you know exactly how to describe his scent like that? No, you're just a very perceptive person. That's all.
"I like this place. If I ever decide to look for land to own myself I should send you and Charles to search for it. The sight of you two could even give me a nice discount.", you break the silence and he let's out a cackle.
"Will we get compensation for our hard work?", he asks with an eyebrow raised in amusement and you pretend to think.
You tap your finger against your chin in a thoughtful manner. "I'll let you live in the barn. If the land comes with a barn, that is."
"How mighty kind of you."
Your lips curls up into a sly smirk. "I'm nothing, but kind, Mr. Morgan."
He throws his head back and let's out a hearty laugh. "I believe that you're spending too much time with Mrs. Adler to be saying that. I fear the woman might be rubbing off on you."
The conversation goes on with him telling you about his shopping trip with Sadie and you regret not joining them. Sure, you had fun with Lenny too and you love spending time with the boy, but you would have preferred pretty much anything else over the company of the two drunken morons from the saloon.
"It sounds like you did good with defendin' yourself.", the outlaw says and you simply shrug.
"I don't know. I feel bad, considering Dutch told us not to cause any trouble here.", you answer which he waves off in a matter of fact way.
"I'd rather you go threaten folk than gettin' snatched away again. Besides, how much worse can it get than a shoppin' trip with Sadie?"
That's true. You might have held a man at gunpoint today, but Sadie was still the one who fired. The thought gives you some comfort and you nudge Arthur's shoulder playfully with yours. "Thanks. I feel much better now."
"Always a pleasure."
You sit there in silence for a while and finish the coffee. "Got any plans for tomorrow?", you ask and try to mask the anticipation in your voice.
All that is on your agenda tomorrow is doing chores around the camp and you don't particularly feel excited about it. Not after having such a fun day out in the field with Lenny.
"Dutch wants me to find out more about this Gray family so looks like I'll pay 'em a visit.", he answers and your eyes fall on the empty cup you're holding.
You swirl around the little bit of leftover coffee. "Can I come with you?"
Arthur seems to think for a moment before nodding. "Sure, why not?"
His response makes your eyes go slightly wide in surprise and he give you a puzzled look for that. "What?"
"It's uh nothing. I just didn't expect for you to say yes so easily.", you answer. It's true. Last time with the oil wagon you had to come up with a step by step plan to convince him.
"I'll just do some talkin'. Nothin' dangerous and I guess it would look a whole less suspicious if I got a lady with me."
That makes sense. The outlaw has something rather threatening about him with his broad shoulders and the constant frown that seems to be glued onto his face. A smile begins to form on your lips.
"Perfect then! Will we dress up? Pretend to be someone else? Oh, do you want me to work on background stories for us?"
The more questions leave you the less excited he looks and he raises both hands to stop you from continuing.
"None of that please. I'll come up with a plan tomorrow mornin' and you just...try to keep ya head. Don't want another woman shootin' up the place again."
Yes, that sounds good. The last thing you want to do is make him believe that he can't let you join during his jobs ever again. You want to proof that you can handle yourself just fine and then hopefully Dutch will start sending you out too.
That bank coach might just be the prime opportunity to show that. Only thing missing is a helping hand and you got just the right person in mind.
Taglist: @shackspossum
#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x reader#rdr2#rdr2 arthur#rdr2 arthur morgan#rdr2 fanfic#rdr2 x reader#rdr2 arthur morgan x reader
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Clark Kent taking care of his baby :)
Most of my stuff is written while high, none of it is proofread, if a typo really bothers you feel free to point it out so I can fix it :) Made thinking of Tom Welling and David Corenswets' (is that where you put the fucking apostrophe?) superman
tw: Dumbification? Subtle DD/LG undertones (Kind of unintentional). NSFW under the cut (pussy eating! Nipple play!)
Clark Kent loves an independent woman. Well , a mostly independent woman. She's smart, handles herself well, and he knows he never has to worry about her when she's on her own. But with him? Oh well now that's a different story. Why would she take care of herself when her big strong boyfriend is there to do it for her? All she needs to do, all Clark wants her to do, is sit there and look pretty. Holding his hand when she walks with him, not paying attention to cars because she knows he will. Why would she keep track of her keys when she knows Clark will? He's lost count of the times she'll get up from their usual seat in their favorite cafe, leaving her phone, purse and coffee. It's not his baby's job to do all that, he gets to take care of her, and he wouldn't have it any other way. He stops on the sidewalk to tie her shoes, picks out her clothes; even orders for her, choosing what she'll get if she can't decide.
He loves taking care of her. It'd be cruel to do anything else, how could he make her do any of the work? He sits her in his lap when they watch movies, letting her lean back against him while he slides his hand under her shirt, gently kneading her soft tits, playing with her nipples while she squirms under his touch. "Stay still honey", he'll whisper in her ear, pressing a kiss to his neck while one arm stretches across her tummy, holding her against him. He lays her back on the couch, movie long forgotten as he slides up her nightgown, leaning down to suck on her nipples. Letting out soft chuckles as she whines and threads her fingers through his hair, legs coming up to wrap around him. "I know honey. Always so sensitive, but you can take it".
He kisses down her tummy, pressing a few into the pretty blue cotton panties she's wearing, the ones she bought because, "Look Clarky! They match your suit!", tongue darting out of his mouth, gently licking her clit over the fabric, letting out a groan as she pleads "Stop teasing Clarky, please?". And how could he ever say no to her? Tugging off her panties and laying back down, gently sinking his teeth into her inner thigh, the pressure barely enough to leave indentations, before gently kissing her clit. She whines hips rolling up, a silent plea for more. He speaks gently, kissing her thigh again: "Thought you were gonna be a good girl for me tonight?". She pouts at him, "I am! you're being mean." God she's so bratty, and he wouldn't have it any other way. He gives in, licking her clit the way she always fucking begs him too, the need to make her cum outweighing his desire to make her wait.
He puts one arm across her tummy again, holding her down as she squirms, legs closing around his head, sucking in a breath as he forces them open. "M-more", she whimpers and he eagerly obliges, slowly sinking two fingers into her, curling them gently against her g-spot. It's almost too much for her, back arching as she tugs on his hair, gasping as he flicks his tongue again. She's almost there, feeling that familiar knot build in her tummy, her breathing picking up and her body flushing with heat. "Don't stop! Please don't stop oh god!" her voice is higher, desperate as she pleads with him. He groans in assent, continuing his actions, curling his fingers a little faster, the familiar squelch that always makes his cock twitch in his jeans. He can feel her right there, teetering on the edge as she whines, before crashing over it. Her back arches and she cries out, her usual chant of "Clarky!" long forgotten as she struggles to even breathe, her thighs closing around his once more, trapping his face against her as she rides out her high.
She opens her thighs again, sighing softly, as Clark sits up, pulling her towards him and kissing her. The taste of herself on his tongue making her whimper into his mouth as he drags her into his lap. "M'sensitive" she pleas, only eliciting a condescending noise of sympathy from him; "Yeah I know. But you can take it, yeah? My pretty girl can take it, cause we're just getting started".
#david corenswet#superman 2025#superman legacy#superman#clark kent#smallville#tom welling#reader insert#smut
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Do you have any characters you hate in canon but love to write in your fics?
This is such an interesting question!!
The short answer is... Kinda? There aren't many characters that I genuinely hate on the show (*cough*Pip*cough*), or at least not any that I've decided to include in a fic.
But if you're along for the ride, I've got additional thoughts that sort of answer your question hehehehe
So when I first actually sat down to watch South Park from the beginning I was already primed to dislike Cartman. And who wouldn't? He's a spoiled, selfish, bigoted asshole. So when I set out to write him in TSOB I was... Not stoked, if I'm being honest. His dialogue always took me the longest and I kept his pov super limited because I found him so challenging to write.
Eventually though, something clicked. I'm not sure if it was a deeper understanding of his insecurities or if my own brain finally let go of the political correctness (and fear of backlash for not being particularly PC with him) that was holding my creativity a little bit hostage, but I started finding him far easier to write. Now he's my favorite to write for, and easily one of my favorites in the show!
Otherwise I think the only character I don't adore that I have written for is Clyde. I'm sorry guys, he's just such a sniveling little douche. I don't particularly enjoy writing for him, at least not more than any of the other side characters, though I actually did enjoy him in Not Suitable for Children so maybe I'll come around.
Thank you for the ask!! I had a lot of fun thinking about how to best answer this one! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧
#ask asteria#am i revealing why clyde has basically no time in any of my fics?#im afraid so#maybe someday he'll grow on me#like a rash#what a little puke#you would think i hate shelley considering i never include her but i actually dont!#i just havent found a good way to include her#ewily didnt have a great spot for the old throwaway 'shes in college' line but... thats where she was lmao#dont worry i have plans for her soon#ANYWAY now im rambling#okay i love you goodbye#south park#ps yes im a pip hater what of it
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Every appearance of the red-haired menace that is early Laurence forces me to sit here and stew upon how I will fix his introduction in the rewrite. As a coping mechanism. Unfortunately since I can't remember the parts where his character isn't just harassment so I can't cook with the themes the way I'd like to. Like the way he calls Aph "my love" after she very explicitly in the text of the game tells him not to do that... bad vibes. I think I could rock with his character if he'd done the same sort of approach in hitting on Aphmau as heavily, but the moment she lays down an actual boundary, he backs way the hell off. I could even fuck with her trying to be subtle about the boundary and him not getting it and continuing to make her uncomfortable before she snaps at him and he apologizes, saying that he truly didn't mean anything by it, and he respects the boundary she lays like his life depends on it from then on out. It would create some immediate complexity in his need for explicit communication, and backs up the sort of deeper character hinting they seem to try to do when he's talking about Castor and Cadenza, this idea that he deeply cares, if being a bit pushy on accident. It would also make a good detail fueling the conflicts later on with the love triangle that can sort of prevent Laurence from looking like TOO much of a dickhead (him being unaware or misinterpreting situations, and the delicate nature of it making him uncomfortable asking questions, is a compelling reason to see somebody hurting his friends' feelings, and makes him significantly more sympathetic, opening him up for feelings of remorse and guilt).
#mcd#minecraft diaries#jeremiahs mcd notes#laurence mcd#i want autisic/adhd king laurence and im not even remotely joking#i think it would add a lot to his character to give him those struggles#if i'm recalling his character right anyways#i am still very early in the series#But i do recall vaguely there being conflicts where I was absolutely not on his side#and i had a very strong sense of justice as a kid so i imagine that i'm not making that up#but also its been 8 years so who knows#but i think he can still very much get off on the wrong foot with aph and it can still be good#i think honestly having him get off on the wrong foot and then work to make it up to her would be good as hell#bc it's a situation in which she sees him be willing to work on himself without much prompting#(aka as soon as he's told there's an issue he starts to work on it and she doesn't have to ask)#and she goes oh actually. you know what. maybe hes not a dick.#and she starts to be more comfortable around him over time#It might create this dynamic where it feels like he's always trying to catch up to her level#Always apologizing always being the wrong one#and then eventually when she does something that he can't just smile and bear#(as all friends hurt each other on accident one time or another#it is unavoidable we are but human and i believe Laurence would let a lot of things slide bc he knows how much she's had to forgive him for#And I can see as well it not going over well bc aphmau is not used to the idea of being the wrong one#and she had a reason for what she did and she gets defensive#Causing an uncomfortable moment of tension#I also think that there could be a good spot where Garroth is being more controlling as to try to protect aph and she is bothered by it#feeling in that moment very robbed of control and like he's not listening to her#and then here's laurence#who is willing to build himself anew brick by brick with her input#Like this is how I would overthink it if I wanted a true love triangle conflict introduced to the plot here
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Dav spoilers (hardened lucanis ending choices)
Is it low-key bad that I really liked that hardened Lucanis made the choice to separate from Spite without Rook's input. It felt like half the endings of the quest were the companions going "hey you pick this for me I'm nervous" even though that makes zero sense for half of them so Lucanis telling rook "this is what I'm going to do" was soooo refreshing
#dragon age#ill tell if i prefer hardened or softened lucanis after i finish my next run where i save treviso#but i actually really like that. i wish previous choices had determined what they got not rook just deciding on the spot#for example if you encouraged davrin to focus on assan more as a battle companion he would let the griffons stay with the wardens#or send them to be with that elf guy whos name i forgot if you told him to embrace a new future for the griffons#kind of like. okay so like how in pf wotr theres points for different endings like for seelah and ember and Daeran#sorry not the bring up pf wotr on a da post i just think they did it very well#was it stressful as shit not knowing if i got ghe true love ending til credits rolled? yeah. but it was GOOD#i think though that neves and hardings made the most sense with this#harding more than neve though#because thats not rook saying “do this instead of that” its more of rook going “i believe that youre this instead of that”#anyways. i need to put the new post button DOWN i am yapping away 😭#like ive said dragon age Does Something to my brain im never normal about it#dav critical#dav spoilers#crow rambles
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Since I just checked my ask box for the first time in a hot minute:
Just a note that tumblr doesn't tell me when I have new asks or messages and I rarely check my notifications. Helpful corrections of misinformation/any messages in good faith are appreciated (though it's possible I won't see them until weeks later, sorry), but if something I reblog angers you enough you feel the need to get hostile in my askbox on anon, I reccomend the unfollow button.
I'm also not comfortable posting asks asking for any sort of donations/directing people to your blog for donation purposes, sorry :// I just don't have time to vet asks like that
#feel like I've had more hostile asks than usual in the last year or so#(with the usual number being none and the recent number being more than none)#I'm not sure if it's like (1) person who hatefollowed and now just wants to be nitpicky about everything#or if the culture of the site changed when i wasn't paying attention and people are back to being hostile#my theory is that the fall of twitter means twitter users are coming back to tumblr and bringing their hostility with them#also i can't believe i have to say this AGAIN#but while what i reblog is generally in line with what i believe...#sometimes i reblog stuff bc it's interesting and makes points i haven't heard before#or i like the overall message even tho there's a few pieces I'm iffy about#or it's not how I'd say it or i feel like it's lacking in some nuance but still think the point is worth making#if you see a really consistent take on my blog with consistent framing then yeah safe to assume it's probably reflective of how i feel#but if you have problems with the phrasing or framing of a specific post maybe take that up with the OP??#i can find someone's speech worthy of dissemination without agreeing with every word#I'm not going to take responsibility for other ppl's phrasing esp if it's just the phrasing or framing in one post and not a theme 4 my blog#sometimes i just think things are an interesting conversation or worthy of talking abt even if not everyone is saying things 100% correctly#feel free to come for me for things i actually write. but I'm not gonna take responsibility for other people's phrasing#(AGAIN with the understanding that like. if I were constantly reblogging posts with slurs or something that would be different)#this just in humans are complex and do not agree 1000% with every post they've ever shared online#pls hold me accountable for things i actually say...#a good example of a VALID critique was when i was following a secret terf and i was accidentally reblogging things with terf OPs semi-often#there was concern i was a terf (i am not... just bad at spotting terf dogwhistles) bc there were a few of these like...#not explicitly terfy but like popular with terf posts on my blog#so thanks again to whoever let me know so i could hunt down the secret terf i was following and unfollow#and even tho it's not true that I'm a terf it was a valid concern bc of the consistency#if u think the phrasing or framing in (1) singular post i reblogged is sooooo horrible... pls take it up with the OP#again with obvious exceptions of like. hate speech. slurs. actual alt right talking points. content in the post that is directly harmful#but anons in my inbox have been Big Mad abt like. one line in one post. or one bad piece of framing#or one not quite nuanced enough take. or one framing where not every person in the world was considered#so pls take that shit up with the person who actually wrote the post and stop acting like i personally came to your house#and yelled the words of whatever post at your grandma and then was mean to your dog
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people will tell me “ew why would you want to major in something with math?” but then act surprised when i not only solve the hard bonus challenge my calc teacher gave us, but also called it fun
#tbh i didn’t think the problem was that hard#there were def a couple spots where i got stuck but eventually figured it out#it was really just you had recognize inverse trig derivatives#and the hardest part part was realizing u had to undistribute a four a#i know myself enough that i know im good a recognizing those kind of things and seeing those patterns#where i gor stuck for a bit was trying to decide bewteen two angle option#cause like when you take inverse sine u can have two diff angles and i didn’t know which ones#but someone was like ‘why would u just not do the easier ones’ which WERE the right answers but HEY sorry im a stickler for the math rules😔#anyway that’s my whole explanation guys 🫶🫶#it was genuinely fun and i am DEFINITELY doing math in college (but prob more physics side)#berryspeaks#math
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She Wolf
A/N: I said I was gonna get this done and it took me way too long and has an absurd word count but I am incapable of holding in word vomit! Inspired by She Wolf by Shakira cause idc its GOOD and it got me thinking' so here it is. Also you don't have to listen to the song as you read but I think It's fun!
Summary: You've got a crush on your best friend and he's a bit of a dick. He regrets it and tries to apologize but you're already trying to push yourself to move on any way you can, even if it's in some shady club you'd never been to before.
Warnings: MDNI 18+, swearing, Logan's kind of an asshole for a minute, Possessive/jealous!Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), friends to lovers cause that's my fave, fem reader, mutant reader, unnamed creepy guy (?) aaaand Logan absolutely has a pain kink. I think that's it but if there's any I missed please let me know!
Word Count: 7K (im so sorry but I'm not though)
divider credit here
“Are you ever gonna tell him?”
You looked up from your desk towards Ororo’s voice, sighing and taking your glasses off your nose.
“God, I don’t know, ‘ro. I don’t think I should. It’s just going to end with me being humiliated and him never wanting to even be in the same room as me again.”
You’d had a crush on Logan Howlett since the day you first walked through the doors of the mansion six months ago. You’d probably be considered best friends by now with how much time you’d spend together, doing jack shit around the mansion on your days off. Just about everyone could tell he had a soft spot for you and that you had one for him. Logan was a classic ‘tough guy’, constantly trying to hide his kind nature with a hard exterior, but it took only a couple weeks for you to crack that barrier. You weren’t exactly a seemingly ‘soft’ type either.
You’d spent the majority of your life before you joined the X-men hoping from couch to couch and hitching rides with strangers, not really having a destination or a place to call home. You’d been dropped off at a church when you were fourteen, around the time you started to turn every full moon. Your parents couldn’t live with having to chain their mutant daughter in their basement once a month, and so they dropped you where they thought you’d find some ‘help’. You’d been passed from foster home to foster home till you were eighteen, each one passing you up the moment they realized you were not like them. It was always a slip of the mask, something setting you off to make you so enraged your eyes gleam yellow and your sharp canines make an unfortunate appearance. You took off the second you could and being on the road came with its fair share of creeps; men with terrible intentions looking for opportunities. You’d never wanted to hurt anyone - truly - but when cornered by a creep, it was hard to think anyone would miss them. A couple of local newspapers caught on, debating where the wolf that tore men to shreds had gone. You weren’t an animal. You just had teeth like one.
Knowing you couldn’t lurk in town much longer, you’d hitchhiked your way to a camp occupied with people like you; lost with no place to call home. It was there that you’d met a couple of mutants who told you about Charles Xavier and the place that seemed completely unreal until you set your eyes on it. That felt like a lifetime ago by now.
“I think you're underestimating how he feels about you,” Ororo said, bringing you back to reality. She was sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through one of your magazines as you worked at your computer to try and make a lesson plan for the coming week.
“I think you’re overestimating how he feels about me,” you let out a short laugh, shaking your head.
Just as she was about to retort, you both heard someone shout your names from the hallway. You looked at each other curiously and left the room, hearing shouting again.
“Are you guys gonna play Monopoly with us or what?”
You both giggled and made your way downstairs towards Scott’s voice. Him, Jean, Marie, Bobby and Logan were all sat in the living room, the game already set up on the coffee table. Bobby and Marie were picking out their game pieces, assigning everyone else to their own piece.
“Okay, Logan, you’re gonna be the dog,” Marie smiled, dropping the little metal piece into the palm of his hand.
He was definitely not as amused, “why do I have to be a damn dog?”
Ignoring him, she handed another piece out to Jean, “you’re the thimble.”
She then handed the boat to Scott, the top hat to you, and the iron to Ororo. You all began the game after Scott painstakingly over-explained the rules and how to play.
It was a good bit into the game that you all became distracted with conversation, eventually leaving the board game untouched. The topic of compatibility came up somehow, the conversation focused on the joy of Bobby and Marie.
“I think anyone would be lucky to have what you guys have,” Ororo smiled, shifting her gaze between the two of them.
“And what we have, obviously,” Scott joked, hanging his arm around Jean.
“Gross,” Logan chimed in, taking a sip of the beer he’d hidden in the back of the fridge.
“I think someone is jealous,” Ororo said in a singsong voice, poking his arm.
“Of having someone hang on me all the time? No, thanks,” he scoffed.
As stupid as it was, it made you a little sad to hear he had no interest in even entertaining the idea. It wasn’t a surprise, but still a disappointment nonetheless.
Ororo brought up your name and your eyes went huge, silently begging her to keep her mouth shut.
“You don’t seem to mind her hanging on you all the time. I think you’d be cute together,” she said, smiling mischievously at you. Scott and Jean agreed and you had never wanted to smash your head into a coffee table as much as you did in that moment.
“Nah, definitely not my type of girl.”
It was just seven words, out quick without a second thought, and yet it felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You couldn’t take your eyes off the monopoly board on the table, avoiding everyone’s gaze.
Definitely not my type of girl.
“I think I should head to bed, it’s getting late,” you mumbled, keeping your head down to hide your blushed face as you got up from the couch and practically ran out of the room and up the stairs.
“What the hell was that?” Scott scolded Logan the moment you were out of sight.
“That was so mean,” Ororo chimes in, backhanding him on the arm.
“I didn’t mean to be,” Logan said nervously , shrugging his shoulders, “…do you think she’s mad at me?”
“Probably more hurt than mad,” Jean said honestly.
“Shit,” he sighed, putting his beer down to rub his face with his hands, “what do I say?”
“Not that,” Marie replied, “why did you even say that anyway? You could’ve just said no.”
“I think you like her and you’re being mean so that she wont like you back because you’re afraid,” Ororo said after a moment of silence.
Logan sat quiet for a moment, his hands still over his face.
“Am I that easy to read?” His voice was muffled through his hands.
The rest of them couldn’t help exchanging knowing smiles.
“So you finally admit it,huh? You’ve got a crush,” Scott teased.
Logan moved his hands from his eyes to glare daggers at him, “you shut your fucking mouth or I’ll shove that monopoly board where the sun doesn’t shine.”
“I think that’s a yes,” Jean whispered to her boyfriend.
“Talk to her when you see her tomorrow. We’re not going to let you hurt her feelings just because you can’t accept your own,” Ororo advised, lightly patting him on the shoulder.
“Do you think she’s even gonna talk to me?”
“Only one way to find out.”
───────♡──────────────♡───────
Logan tried to catch up with you the next day, always seeing you as you were leaving a room he was entering or passing by and even then, you ignored his calls of your name.
It was a little after dinner now and because it was a weekend, a couple of kids were up playing the PlayStation in the living room. Bobby and Marie sat with them, taking turns with the controllers.
Logan entered the room after about three laps around the mansion, mentioning your name to the both of them.
“Have you guys seen her? I’ve been trying to talk to her all day, she keeps running from me.”
“Can’t really blame her,” Bobby muttered, his eyes never leaving the TV screen as he button smashed.
“She’s in her room,” Marie answered before Logan could come up with a retort, “she went up before dinner, said she wasn’t hungry.”
He groaned, running a hand through his hair, “she’s skipping dinner now too, great.”
“Go talk to her!” She insisted, shooing him away with a wave of her hand.
He made his way to the stairs and up to your bedroom, knocking lightly on your door. Hearing nothing, he knocked again, a little harder. Still, nothing.
“You can’t avoid me forever, you know. I wanna talk about yesterday, I was a dick.”
Silence. Now he was a little worried. He tentatively grabbed the doorknob and turned, cracking it open a bit.
Your bed was made, your desk was neatly organized and you were nowhere to be seen. He noticed your purse was gone from the usual spot you’d leave it in and your closet was open, a couple garments and some shoes strewn about on the floor. It looked like you’d gotten dressed and dipped. He figured maybe Ororo or Jean might know where you were, leaving your room and looking for them instead. He found them shortly after, huddled in the kitchen. Again, he asked if either of them knew where you were.
“She’s in her room, she went up before dinner,” Ororo answered.
“No, she’s not. And her purse is gone.”
Both women turned to each other with the same worried expression.
───────♡──────────────♡───────
Having tried your cellphone about thirteen times from just about everybody’s phones, they all decided they had to tell Charles. He used his ability to connect with every mutant on the planet to try and locate you, visualizing with his eyes closed. Everyone stood in his study, anxiously awaiting his conclusion. After a moment of silence, he started to silently chuckle to himself.
“What’s so funny?” Logan asked immediately, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows.
“I’m afraid you all have your work cut out for you,” he replied, finally opening his eyes.
“So, where is she?” Ororo asked, worry in her voice.
“There is a club called The Nightcrawler - “ Charles began to explain, but Logan interjected impatiently.
“Club? What, like a book club?” He nearly scoffed. There was no way you were at some sleazy nightclub in the city. You were a homebody and an introvert, neither of which made clubbing enjoyable.
“Maybe we should just let her have fun,” Jean began to say, but Logan was already halfway out the door.
Uncharacteristically, you found yourself dressed to the nines in the middle of a dance floor full of people. You’d spent a while trying outfits in your room, searching for something you could actually wear out that wasn’t sweatpants and a hoodie. You’d settled on a halter top that tied at your neck and in the back and a pair of ridiculously tight pants that you’d bought forever ago and never had the guts to wear. You ended up standing in front of the mirror, choosing a pair of very cute but very uncomfortable shoes and looking over the outfit. If you weren’t Logan’s ‘type of girl’, you sure as hell were somebody’s. Trying to get yourself out there may be the best solution to forgetting the heart-crushing infatuation you had with your best friend who would never see you as anything more.
“I feel ridiculous,” you chuckled to yourself, turning in the mirror to see the back of your outfit. You did look good, just super out of your comfort zone. You grabbed your bag and ended up slipping out when everyone was eating dinner. That’s how you ended up where you were, pushing your way through the crowd of people with a drink in your hand. You passed the raised lounge area and felt a hand on your shoulder, making you turn suddenly.
“Hey, you wanna dance?”
He was tall, leaning down a little to shout over the music. He was pretty good looking but didn’t look like Logan in the slightest, which you realized was exactly the point of going out tonight. He was dressed nice and smelled like expensive cologne.
“Sure, why not?”
As you abandoned your half finished drink on a table and let him pull you a little further into him, a familiar song started to thump through the speakers.
“I love this song!” You exclaimed, letting the nameless guy rest his hands on your hips.
S.O.S., she's in disguise
S.O.S., she's in disguise
There's a she wolf in disguise
Coming out, coming out, coming out
“Ironic,” you muttered under the music.
───────♡──────────────♡───────
Logan walked ahead of Ororo, Jean and Scott, his long legs taking him much further at a much faster pace.
“Logan, slow down!” Ororo called out, jogging a bit to catch up with him.
“What if she didn’t even want to be there? What if some guy dragged her there?”
“Oh,” Jean laughed, “ I see. You’re jealous.”
“No.”
“Yup.”
“Nope.”
“So you’d be fine if we walked in there and she is with a guy?”
Logan slowed his pace as they approached the entrance, “sure, whatever,” feigned disdain in his voice.
The second the door opened, the bass of the music was overwhelming. It was dim, save for a few colorful lights projecting around the room. The four of them were squished together near the door, trying to pick you out in a sea of moving people.
“This is gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack,” Scott shouted.
“Not necessarily,” Ororo replied, a smug smile on her face.
“What?” Logan furrowed his eyebrows.
She pointed across the room and he followed her gaze.
There's a she wolf in the closet
Open up and set it free
There's a she wolf in your closet
Let it out so it can breathe
You didn’t even look like you. He’d never seen you in anything that showed that much skin or any clothes that even hugged you like that, for that matter.
And you were with a guy.
Sitting across a bar, staring right at her prey
It's going well so far, she's gonna get her way
“So, what did we tell you?” Jean shouted, waving her hand in front of his glaring eyes.
“Just some kid,” he replied dismissively, turning to her, “doesn’t mean anything anyway.”
“You sure?” Scott nudged his shoulder, making Logan look towards you again.
That kid had his hands up the sides of your top with his head craned down to kiss your neck, your back to his chest. You were giggling, playfully smacking his arm. Truthfully, you thought the attention was nice for a change. After trying so hard for too long to get Logan to notice you, it felt good to have someone pay attention to you in that way.
Not looking for cute little divos or rich city guys
I just want to enjoy
By having a very good time
And behave very bad in the arms of a boy
You felt his hands squeeze your hips a little harder, enough for his nails to dig into your skin. Out of instinct, you felt your canine teeth start to poke against your lower lip. You tried in vain to tug his hands from you, only making him tighten his grip.
The switch in demeanor was obvious even from across the dark room, your smile turning into a grimace that bared your sharp teeth. You yanked the sleeves of his jacket to make him finally let go, turning around while he still had his arms ghosted around you.
S.O.S., she's in disguise
S.O.S., she's in disguise
“Touch me like that again, you son of a bitch, and I will rip you to fucking shreds.”
You gathered fistfuls of his shirt, bringing him down to eye level so he could see your snarling teeth and gleaming eyes as a hint that you weren’t bluffing.
There's a she wolf in disguise
Coming out, coming out, coming out
Before anyone could even tell him to stay put, Logan had already disappeared into the crowd of people.
“God damn it,” Scott huffed, following Jean and Ororo when they went after him.
“Logan!” Jean yelled, trying to grab his jacket to slow him and only having him slip out of her grip.
There's a she wolf in the closet
Let it out so it can breathe
“Shit, I’m kinda into the fangs. What, you gonna bite me?” He was whispering in your ear, your hands still on his shirt. Before you could do something you were going to regret, you felt someone tug your upper arm and pull you away from him.
“Come on,” Logan snapped, “we’re leaving.”
“What the hell are you doing here? What do you mean we?” You yelled back. You didn’t want to stay anywhere near that guy but you weren’t ready to leave either and sure as hell not with Logan dragging you out like an angry parent.
“Hey, she doesn’t really look like she wants to leave with you, man,” the other guy interjected, keeping a grip on you by looping his fingers through one of the belt loops on your pants.
“Yeah? She doesn’t want to stay with you either, jackass,” Logan moved his hand from your arm to hold your hand instead, “she’s not interested.”
What the hell had gotten into him? You felt like you were in the middle of a tug of war with two dogs.
“No one’s gonna fucking ask what I want, right?” You tried to complain, neither of them hearing you.
“Your little doggy girlfriend here was just about to take care of me. You mad about it?” The other guy laughed and you nearly lunged at him, Logan’s hand tugging you back. He intended to pull you away so he could get to him first, but Scott, Jean and Ororo jumped in just in time.
“Alright - enough, enough, we’re leaving!” Jean yelled, pushing you all towards the door, Logan dragging you the whole way. When you finally were out in the cool evening air, you angrily yanked your hand from his.
“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, turning to Logan, “and what the fuck was that?”
“What was that? You’re welcome - “
“I didn’t ask you to come save me - from what, having a good time?”
“Oh, yeah, it looked like you were having a lot of fun,” he scoffed, “he had you by the hip so hard he probably left a bruise.”
He instinctively reached his hand out to check and you swatted it away, “Don’t - Don’t touch me!”
None of them had ever heard you sound so pissed off and you’d definitely never snapped at Logan like that before.
You took a deep breath and reached down to slip off your shoes, leaving you barefoot on the concrete.
“I’m sorry,” you apologized to the rest of them,” but why are you guys here?”
“You left without saying anything, we couldn’t find you and we wanted to be sure you were safe,” Ororo sighed, hugging you in relief, “we’re so glad you’re okay.”
You hugged her back.
“I just - I wanted to disappear for a while,” you explained apologetically, avoiding Jean and Scott’s gaze.
“Do you know how stupid it was to run off and not tell anyone where you were going?” Logan scolded you, but Jean clicked her tongue at him.
“Shut it! Enough from you! You’ve done enough damage control!”
The ride home was almost silent, your tired body slumped in the backseat between Scott and Jean, until Ororo spoke from the front passenger seat.
“Honey, I don’t mean this in a bad way, but,” she paused, thinking over her words, “what were you gonna do to that guy if we hadn’t stopped you?”
You understood what she meant immediately.
“What, you think I was going to kill him?” you asked, crossing your arms and leaning forward in your seat, “I wasn’t. I don’t do that unless I have to and you know even then I hate doing it.”
“I know…so, what were you doing with a guy like him anyway?” she asked, trying to move on from the question that had clearly made you upset, “he seemed kinda shady.”
Logan was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white, dreading the answer.
You shrugged your shoulders, staring at the synthetic fabric of your pants.
“Liked the attention, I guess,” you answered honestly, kind of hoping you could throw anyone off the idea of you being interested in Logan, “it’s been awhile since a guy has liked me like that.”
“He only wanted one thing from you anyway,” he scoffed from the front seat. Ororo glared at him, about to tell him to mind his business before you stopped her.
“And I can’t want it either?”
That shut everybody up and Ororo turned to him again, a look on her face that said ‘you asked, you got the answer’.
You tried to bolt to your room when you all got home but Logan was quick to follow, catching up with you to stand in your path in the hallway outside of your bedroom.
“What’s going on with you?”
“Leave me be.”
You tried to dodge around him but he stuck his arm out.
“Logan.”
He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue speaking.
“Move.”
“I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what’s going on with you. You don’t disappear like that, ever. And I wanna talk to you about last night - “
“There’s nothing to talk about. Goodnight,” you huffed, ducking under his arm and opening your door.
“I care about you, you know, I was worried,” he began to explain.
You tried to slam the door in his face but he stuck his foot out, jamming his boot between the door and the doorframe. You let go in defeat and turned away, gathering your pajamas as if he wasn’t in the room.
“Yeah? Why?,” you scoffed, trying with everything in you to bite your tongue but failing miserably, “I’m not your type of girl. What’s there to worry about?”
Logan’s face fell. He pushed the door closed behind him.
“Is that what this is about? That’s why you went out?”
“Why do you care?”
You still had your back to him, furiously shuffling through clothing in your dresser.
“Stop.”
You felt his hands on your arms as he came up behind you, paralyzing you in your spot.
You let him turn you around gently, almost chest to chest.
“I didn’t mean that.”
“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings -“
“I’m not.”
He leaned back a little to force you to look him in the eye.
“I only said that - listen, I only said that because - “ Logan paused, biting his lip till it nearly bled, but you shook your head and slipped by him again.
“Please, don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Logan.”
You sounded so exasperated, tears forming in your eyes when you turned your back to him.
“Fuck,” he sighed, “I only said that because I didn’t want you to like me.”
You wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek and turned back to him, a confused expression on your face.
“It worked, are you happy?”
“No, I’m not - “
“Well, guess it backfired. Get out of my room.”
You were face to face again, keeping your mouth in a tight line so your lip wouldn’t quiver. It felt stupid to cry in front of him, but you couldn’t really help it once it started.
“Oh, god, please, don’t cry,” he begged, leaning down and actually bringing a hand up to your face to wipe away a tear that rolled down your cheek. You wanted to smack it away, tell him again to just get the hell out , but you couldn’t.
“Why would you do that?” You mumbled out quietly, finally letting the overwhelming feeling of sadness cancel out any rage you had for him. You couldn’t look him in the eye again, concentrating on the throw rug you were standing on.
“I’m so sorry, princess, I am. I’m really fucking stupid,” he huffed.
You were surprised by the softness of his voice and finally tore your eyes from the floor. He’d called you that before, but usually in a teasing way. This time it sounded endearing, like a plea of your name.
“And what happened there, at the club? ‘She’s not interested’, what was that about?” You continued.
He sighed, still trying to figure out what exactly it was that he wanted to say. He realized there probably wasn’t much of a way to beat around the bush and he groaned, closing his eyes as he stood in front of you to make spilling his guts a little less agonizing.
“I like you - like you a lot, and I was an asshole because I figured if you hated me, you couldn’t like me back and it would save you the trouble.”
Hearing no response, he finally opened his eyes to see you still standing in the same spot, your lips parted.
“Save me the trouble of what?”
You were confused, your eyes narrowed as if you were angry.
“I don’t know…having to deal with me, I guess. I - I’ve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else and it scares the shit out of me.”
You could hear him swallow hard, his eyes looking everywhere around the room except at you.
“And earlier, when we picked you up,” he continued, “I acted like that because I was jealous, alright? Can’t stand to see some asshole on you like that, and you were dressed all nice and - I don’t know.”
You’d never heard him sound so nervous in all the time you’d known him.
“You are my type of girl,” he finally choked out, “only type of girl I’d ever want.”
All you could do was inhale sharply, his words echoing in your mind.
“It’s alright if you hate me, I can’t say I really blame you. Fuck, I’m sorry.”
He began to walk out, convinced he’d fucked up beyond repair.
“Logan.”
Your voice stopped his hand from turning your doorknob and he turned back to you.
No longer crying, you tentatively stepped forward a bit, nervously playing with the front hem of your top.
“You’re not something to deal with, you know,” you muttered, letting your hair fall in front of your face.
You supposed this was the point where it was your turn to explain.
“I’ve liked you for a long time, Logan, probably since the day I walked in here and I just - I think I wanted someone to distract me so I wouldn’t wallow in self pity because you didn’t want me.”
“You were trying to get over me,” he realized aloud, a small smile on his face to hide the hurt, “I deserved that.”
After a moment of tense silence, he spoke again.
“Did it work?”
His voice was low and soft, a tone you’d rarely heard him speak with.
You pursed your lips and finally lifted your head, taking a deep breath.
“No. I don’t think it was ever going to, either,” you laughed a little, “when that guy asked me to dance, the first thing I thought of was that he didn’t look anything like you.”
Your voice trailed off a little at the end, a little embarrassed to confess that even if Logan had already flat out told you he was interested in you.
Without another word, he came close enough to reach for your hands and gently intertwine your fingers with his. He cleared his throat, nervously chewing his bottom lip before he spoke.
“Can I kiss you?”
You must have had this dream a million times over, waking up night after night and feeling so empty because none of it was real. But now, with his hands in yours, it was very real.
You eagerly pressed your lips to his, not wanting to waste another second. His lips were soft and you were encompassed in the scent of his body wash and cologne, smelling of pine and cedar wood. You brought your hands up to play with his hair at the back of his head. Logan moved his arms to wrap around your waist, pulling you further into him.
When you finally pulled away from each other, you were both smiling like idiots.
“We should’ve done that much sooner,” you giggled.
“Agreed.”
His fingers traced small circles on the exposed skin of your back, making you shiver.
He kissed you again, this time with much more intensity. It wasn’t long before your tongues were in each other's mouths and you both had fumbled yourselves over to the end of your bed.
“Wanted you for so long,” he mumbled between kissing your neck and jaw, his hands still sliding up and down your back, “I was so stupid.”
“We both were,” you giggled a little, cut short into a moan when he licked your neck all the way from your collarbone to under your ear.
“L-Logan,” you gasped, unable to hide your blushing face.
He hummed into your neck, bringing his mouth to your ear, “Can I show you how sorry I am? Let me make it up to you.”
His voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and you let him pull you onto him to straddle his lap, lost in the feeling of his hands on you.
“Mmm, uh-huh,” you hummed, mouth hung open as he sucked light marks into your neck.
“You have to use your words, pretty girl,” he brought his head up to rest his forehead against yours. He cupped your jaw tenderly, almost as if you’d disappear if he let go.
Before you could answer, he moved his hands to drag your hips over his, grunting when he felt the pressure.
“Y-yes, yeah - please,” you choked out between moans, tugging his hair harder every time he pushed and pulled your hips.
“Please what, baby?”
“You - you can make it up to me,” you groaned into his neck.
He effortlessly lifted you by your thighs and laid you with your back to the bed. You untucked his white t-shirt from his jeans as he crawled over you, desperate to get your hands underneath it. You lightly scratched your nails along his back, making him groan into your ear. He kissed down your neck to the center of your chest, gently slipping his fingers under the hem of your top and around the back.
“Can I take this off you, baby?”
You were already sitting up before he could finish his sentence, reaching to try and untie the knot at the back of your neck.
“Eager, huh?”, he chuckled, “let me, sweetheart.”
He wrapped his arms around your lower back to tug at the knot, feeling it come loose in his hands. He snaked his hands up to the back of your neck, doing the same to the tied strings there. When it came loose, the only thing holding the piece of fabric to you was his hands at the back of your neck. He let it slip from his fingers, a smirk on his face when it fell completely.
You threw the garment somewhere to the floor and tugged on the collar of his t-shirt, bringing him down with you as laid back again and pressed your lips to his. He pulled back for a moment to yank his shirt off and immediately return his mouth to yours, making his way down to your neck. He brought both his hands to your chest and swept his thumbs over your hard nipples, eventually bringing his lips to them and sucking.
“Ah - Logan,” you whined, making him smile against your skin.
“I like it when you say my name, pretty girl,” he mumbled, dragging his fingers down your sides and hooking them into the waistband of your pants. He kissed all the way down to your hips, moving himself to lay on his stomach with his head between your thighs.
Before he could ask you if it was alright to rid you of them, you were already unbuttoning your pants and pushing them down your hips and thighs. He took them off the rest of the way for you and you kicked your panties off with them.
He hooked his arms around your thighs to pull you closer, licking his lips and resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh.
“I thought about you a lot, you know - like this,” he huffed, his warm breath fanning over your pussy.
You had your hands in his hair already, swiping fallen strands of hair out of his face.
“I thought about you like this, too,” you admitted, sighing as he started to plant kisses right above where you wanted him the most.
“Yeah?”
His teasing voice brought goosebumps to your skin and you nodded, gasping when you finally felt his lips graze your clit.
“This what you think about when you fuck yourself?” He mumbled into you, the vibration of his voice making you tighten your grip in his hair. He growled like an animal, trying to push you even further into his mouth by the grip on your thighs.
You were trying to choke out an answer, distracted by the wet sounds of him messily eating you out.
“Y - ah, yes, yeah - not as good as the real thing, though.”
He laughed with his mouth still attached to you and you tightened your thighs around his head, keeping him in place.
He could have spent hours with his mouth to your cunt, practically fucking you with his tongue while you whined his name.
A knock on your door sounded through the room, the both of you freezing in place.
“Hey, I just wanted to check on you. Are you feeling okay?”
It was Scott.
You grimaced, thankful at the very least that your door was locked, but Logan had a terribly smug smirk on his face.
“Y-yeah, I’m alright, just - just tired,” you managed to choke out, stuttering when you felt two of his fingers slip into you effortlessly.
“You sure?”
You sighed, hating and loving Logan at the same time for what he was doing.
“Yup, th-thank you, m’ jus’ gonna go to bed.”
Scott responded with a goodnight and you groaned in relief when you heard him walk away.
Logan was curling his fingers inside of you, still lapping at your pussy and letting you use your grip on his hair to angle his head however you wanted him. You felt the pressure in your lower stomach rise and you tried to warn him, tugging on the hair on the back of his head.
“Logan, I’m - “
“C’mon, pretty girl, c’mon.”
His encouragement sent you over the edge, euphoria blooming from your lower stomach and spreading through you. You had to cover your mouth to muffle your pornographic moans, but Logan reached up to tug your wrist.
“Uh-uh, wanna hear you, beautiful,” he mumbled into you, practically pushing your thighs even further around his head.
“Fuck, L-Logan, too - too sensitive,” you stuttered out, trying to pull his face away by his hair and failing miserably because of his grip around your thighs.
He eventually reluctantly detached himself and crawled back on top of you, sucking the taste of you off his fingers.
“I could do that for hours, you know, if you let me,” he groaned, pulling your hips up to him so you could feel the weight of his hard cock underneath his jeans.
Still sensitive, you reactively gripped his biceps and dug your fingernails into his skin. You were going to apologize and were quickly cut off by the guttural moan he let out into the side of your neck.
“Fuck,” he groaned, rocking his hips against yours.
“You’re into pain, huh?”
You figured it was your turn to tease him, dragging your fingernails from his shoulders all the way down his back.
“You’re gonna pay for that, pretty girl,” he grunted, moving quickly to undo his belt and strip himself of the rest of his clothing.
When his cock sprung up and hit his stomach as he took off his boxers, you swallowed hard; already feeling a wanting ache in your stomach again. You figured he was big - he was already a tall guy, after all - but he was far bigger than any guy you’d ever seen. Logan noticed the way you bit your lower lip, resting himself on top of you again and bringing his thumb up to pull your lip from under your teeth.
“What, are you nervous? It’s alright sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you.”
His voice was so soft and gentle, a tone you rarely ever heard from him.
You could feel the weight of his cock against your inner thigh, heavy and already leaking.
“ ‘m not nervous, I want you, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. You reached your hand between your bodies to line him up with your entrance, trying to push him in with your legs around his waist.
“You sure?” he huffed, trying with every muscle in his body to not slam into you in one thrust.
You nodded eagerly, scratching at his lower back.
Logan couldn’t help himself and gave in, slipping himself into you.
“So tight,” he groaned into your neck, pushing himself in even further.
“You - fuck - you’re so fucking big,” you admitted truthfully, nearly drooling at the feeling of him stretching you out.
“Feels good?”
It was hard for him to speak when you were so wet that he was nearly slipping out of you as he gently rocked his hips back and forth, trying to be gentle and let you adjust to his size.
“Mm - uh-uh,” you hummed, gasping each time he pushed further.
“Use your words, sweetheart,” he huffed and you groaned, digging your nails into him.
“Y-yes, yeah - want you all the way in,” you whimpered.
That was all it took for him to be buried in you, grinding his hips into yours so that you were pinned to the mattress.
He worked up to a devastating pace, practically slamming your headboard into the wall.
“S-someone’s gonna - someone’s gonna hear us,” you managed to gasp out, out of breath every time he filled you and pulled back again.
“Don’t care, let ‘em,” he pressed his forehead to yours, bringing a hand up to your face to affectionately cup your cheek. It was so sweet and almost disgustingly hot, the caring gesture contrasting the intense feeling of him repeatedly slamming into the sensitive spot inside of you.
He really didn’t have a care in the world about who heard you both, far too lost in the feeling of finally being able to have you under him like that. You had sweat soaked strands of hair stuck to your face, your eyes squeezed shut, and he was almost sure you’d never looked more beautiful.
“So fucking pretty,” he huffed, his thumb swiping your bottom lip. He had an idea, one he’d considered many times when he thought of you under him like this.
“Bite me.”
You raised your eyebrows in surprise, threading your hand through his hair, “are you sure?”
“Please.”
You forcibly unsheathed your fangs, letting them tentatively poke at his thumb that was still to your lips.
He moved his hand to your throat, resting it there without tightening his grip.
“Please.”
His pleading had the heat in your lower stomach rising and you obliged, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. You felt guilty - you didn’t enjoy hurting people - until he was whimpering in your ear, moaning your name over and over again.
You bit his neck, his shoulders, his lip - all the small puncture wounds healing themselves within seconds.
Having him so pussy drunk and groaning praises into your ear brought the pressure in your lower stomach to a max and you cried out his name, letting him fuck you through your second orgasm.
“ ‘s good, huh, princess? Come on me, c’mon,” he was begging, feeling your muscles tense around him. That drove him over the edge, his hips rutting into you and his thrusts becoming sloppy. He finally let himself go, filling you and letting it drip from you onto the sheets. He pulled back a little to see the mess you had both made, your inner thighs painted with a mix of his release and yours. He went to pull out completely and you clamped your thighs around his hips again, keeping him still.
“Want me to stay?”
“Mhm - please.”
The sexual tension was replaced with loving comfort, Logan keeping you to his chest as he laid you both on your side. His chin rested on the top of your head and your face was against his chest with your eyes closed. You smiled at the thump of his heartbeat in your ear, nearly letting it put you to sleep.
“Hey, pretty girl,” he mumbled into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head, “you know I love you?”
The last three words made your eyes shoot open and you looked up at him, worried you’d misheard him or maybe he was just messing with you.
“Really?”
“Of course. You think I would’ve done that with you if I wasn’t in love?”
You thought hard for a second, realizing he was right. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had hookups before, but it had been quite a long time since he’d bothered to even get to know someone like that. He wasn’t the type to lead you on, either - always up front with you, even if he didn’t have to be.
“I love you too,” you answered, unable to hide the wide smile on your face.
“I should’ve told you much sooner,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as you snuggled into him again.
Before you could both fall asleep from exhaustion, he yanked the comforter over the both of you, hearing you mumble sleepily.
“You can make it up to me some more.”
───────♡──────────────♡───────
A/N: If you made it to the end I love you <3 pls lmk what you think and reblog+like if you enjoyed!! also still navigating how to write smut without using cringe terminology so forgive me if that part sucks
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett fic#logan howlett smut#logan howlett fanfiction#wolverine x reader#wolverine fic#wolverine fanfiction#wolverine smut#wolverine
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Kid?
Logan Howlett x fem!mutant!reader A/N: I haven’t watched X-Men since I was a child, so I can’t promise this is going to be canon-compliant. I haven’t watched DP & W either, I’ve just been influenced by that one gif where Hugh Jackman shakes his head like a dog. I feel FERAL Also, I am not good at superhero names or coming up with creative powers. So you’re a mutant with matter manipulation and they call you Flux. I mean, superhero names are inherently ridiculous so I think this works. (Don’t judge me, I’m just here for the sexy man) Summary: You walk in on Logan and Jean in a compromising position and feel your heart break. You really thought he loved you, you were so wrong. (Or were you?)
It was your own fault, you should have knocked before you busted through the door. You only have yourself to blame as you struggle to catch your breath and swallow down the lump in your throat. The image of Logan standing between Jean’s bare legs is going to haunt you for a while. Their faces will keep you awake at night, cringing at yourself while you remember the humiliating moment.
You rush towards the door, a stupidly giddy skip to your step. You were a mutant, a superhuman, and getting a chance to talk to your crush should not have you giggling like a schoolgirl. Still, you’re blind to all logic when it comes to Logan.
You turn the corner, spotting the medbay and nearly ramming into the door you know he’s lurking behind. Charles had told you where to find him. Of course, you hadn’t paid attention to the odd tone of voice when he had very clearly warned you to knock. All you’d heard was Logan’s name and you’d zoned out for the rest of the conversation.
And, of course, you don’t knock. You grab the door’s handle and bust in, “Hey!” Your eyes widen and your stomach plummets with a depressing plop to the floor. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see the way Jean and Logan are entangled in each other. He’s leaning over her, the muscles and veins in his neck pulsing with strain. Normally, that sight would have you nearly drooling.
Instead, all you can see is the flush on Jean’s cheeks and the way her pupils are dilated with want. Her nails are digging into his back, bare legs twined around his waist. There’s no way to misinterpret this. No way for you to later assure yourself that this was all just a misunderstanding.
The words stumble out of your mouth in a disjointed mess that even you can’t decipher. You stand there, jaw opening and closing like a fish out of water before you finally get it together. “Charles,” you stutter out, his name sounding like a question. You wince and finally tear your gaze away from them. “Sorry,” you chuckle, trying to play off your hurt as humor. “Charles needs us all for a mission.”
You don’t give them a chance to respond, you slam the door closed, ignoring what you think might be someone calling your name.
You shake off the mortifying memory and groan. Your head falls into your hands and you grip at your face until the pain distracts you from the embarrassment. It’s not too hard to push it all down, to pretend what happened didn’t make your heart crumble away into nothing.
Maybe it’s because you’re a mutant that you’re so used to rejection. You’re used to constantly being disappointed by people around you. Your childhood was nothing but cruelty, your crush not liking you back can’t compare to half of what you went through.
That’s what you tell yourself, at least, to try and pretend it doesn’t hurt as much as it does. You shove it down until you think you can’t feel that dull ache anymore. And when Jean and Logan walk into the room, looking more put together, you smile at Logan like you always do. It doesn’t turn down at the corners, your eyes don’t water. You take in a deep breath and look utterly unaffected.
He sits down beside you and leans towards you. “I can explain-”
You cut him off and shake your head. “Forget about it. I should have knocked.” You turn towards Charles who wheels himself to the front of the room. You dismiss Logan and ignore the way his stare burns into the side of your head.
Charles looks to Jean and Logan, a smile starting. Then his gaze drifts towards you and your chest deflates when you see the look on his face. He knows, the old miser probably coasted over your thoughts and he knows. He sends you a sympathetic look that makes you feel like a little girl who just got told unicorns don’t exist. “Jean, Logan, glad that you’ve finally joined us.”
Logan nods and leans back in his chair. But his eyes remain fixed on you and it makes you wish you could stab a fork into them. You let out a short, irritated huff of air and frown at yourself. Maybe you were a little more angry than you would like to admit.
You blame Logan for that. You never would have fallen so deep into infatuation if you hadn’t believed there was even a sliver of a chance with him. Always speaking so kindly with you when he would barely spare anyone a second glance. Constantly doing checkups on you after a particularly harsh training session with Charles.
Your mind runs over all the small things with him, everything you’ve done together. And you’re hit with a sudden nauseating thought. Oh my god, what if he sees me paternally?
You force yourself not to physically react but inside your throwing up and fucking freaking out. You feel a sudden spark of alarm from Charles and quickly do your best to fortify your mind so he doesn’t see your major mental freakout.
You’re not that much younger than him. Well, it’s not illegal, your crush on Logan. But what if this entire time, when you’ve been falling harder and harder for him, he’s just been platonically taking care of you? You’ve seen him do it plenty of times for the younger kids, as reluctant as he is to admit it.
You’re spiraling further and further into panic. So much so that you have no idea what’s even being discussed or what’s going on. You get onto the jet and have to ask Storm what you’re doing. She gives you a confused look but tells you nonetheless. Just some recon on a potential mutant trafficking ring. Nothing out of the ordinary, as depressing as that is. There shouldn’t be much violence, which is why your group is particularly small today.
You nod your head, moving like you’re in a daze as you throw yourself onto a seat. Logan sits beside you, an alarmed look on his face. “You alright, kid?”
The nickname, which is used to make your stomach flutter, makes you want to throw up. How have you missed it for this long? It was laid out so plainly before you. Of course, he doesn’t want you. Not when he has perfect Jean. Bile rises in your throat with a vicious ferocity when you glare over at Jean.
There’s a sudden petty, vindictive rage fueling you. The type you should have abandoned in high school, especially now that you’re grown. Instead, you feel like giving into Logan’s idea of what you are. You feel like reacting to all of this petulantly.
You ignore Logan and instead catch Jean’s eyes. Slowly, and with as much intention as you can force into your gaze, you look from her to Logan and then Scott. Her eyes widen and Logan scoffs beside you. She shakes her head minutely, silently begging you not to say anything. You smile at her and stand up.
You take a step towards Scott and Logan calls out an irritated, “Kid.” You ignore him and Jean eyes you warily as you approach. She stands like she’s ready to fight you and take the jet down just to keep you quiet. You reach Scott and can hear the way Jean takes in a sharp breath.
“Scott,” he looks up at you with his brows raised. There's a pause before you speak. Dragged on too long for Scott not to realize you’re planning something.
Jean takes a step towards you and you grin, “Mind checking my cuffs?” Scott gives you an odd look and his confusion only gets worse as Jean slumps onto the seat beside him. She’s not even trying to hide her relief. Scott shakes his head and holds his hands out, fingers gently probing around the cuffs on your wrists. The ones that keep your powers in check.
You’re still new to welding them. And they’re too entwined with your emotions for you to just have free range with them. If you hadn’t had the cuffs on this morning, you’re afraid you might have just turned everything around you into nothing but dust.
“They look fine, Flux.” His tone betrays his thoughts. He doesn’t know why you’d come to him for this when it’s Charles who usually deals with it. But this stupid, petty little display wasn’t for poor oblivious Scott. It was for the woman sitting next to him. The redhead whose still drilling holes into your skull.
You’ve got leverage over her that you’ve never had before. Scott wouldn’t take her little foray with Logan very well. And all it would take is a flick of your wrist to give him a very clear image of exactly what you’d seen. Then, her picture-perfect relationship would be over in a matter of seconds. You’re sure Logan would be more than pleased. But he doesn’t seem to understand that Jean just wants to have fun with him, she’d never choose him over Scott.
“Thanks,” there’s a bite to your tone that you’re not used to. You usually keep your emotions relatively in control. That way you won’t have to wear these cuffs one day. But you feel volatile today. You’re channeling your hurt and turning it into misguided anger.
You drop your wrists to your sides and stalk toward the front, hovering behind Charle’s and Storm’s chairs so you don’t have to look at the others. It doesn’t take long for you to feel the floor trembling under heavy booted steps.
Logan’s arms rest on the headrest of the chairs, bracketing you in between them so you can’t escape. He leans forward until his chest is pushed against yours and you can feel every ridge of his muscled torso pressing into you. You try not to suck in a breath, try not to play into the cliche of instantly forgetting why you’re angry when you’re faced with those muscles of his. It is hard, though, because he’s so handsome and so warm and you just want to melt into him.
“Wanna explain what the hell that was?” His voice is so low, whispering against the shell of your ear so only you can hear. You feel the vibrations of it against your back, his tone more gravelly than it should be.
You glance over your shoulder at him, face placid and blank. “What? Just needed some help.” Storm looks over at you both and rolls her eyes.
Logan opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off. “Put a pin in the lover’s spat, we’re landing.” Using just a bit of your power, you push Logan off of you and head towards the back of the jet. There’s a slight jolt as you land and then the ramp opens up and you’re practically running into the snowy forest.
You don’t know where you are, mainly because you weren’t paying attention, you just know it's fucking freezing. The leather of your suit isn’t doing much to help fight against the chill. Charles stays on the jet and reminds you all that this is only meant to be recon. You’re partnered up with Logan, and as much as it irritates you, you’re not stupid enough to argue against it.
You have to put aside your personal grievances for this mission. You can’t risk the safety of mutants because the guy you like likes another girl. Logan seems pleased about it, stubbornly staying by your side even when you make it clear you want space.
You both linger behind the other’s as Storm leads you through the forest. Jean is being more touchy with Scott than normal. Either to assuage her own guilt or to rub it in Logan’s face, you’re not sure which. You nearly gag as you watch them whisper to one another, you glance over at Logan to see if he notices.
You’re startled when you see him already staring at you. His lips tick up into something mischievous when he catches your eye. That smug smirk on his face as he leans in towards you. “Wanna tell me what’s got you so pissed off?”
You roll your eyes and tamp down the rising tide of anger. “Nothing,” you bite out, jaw clenching the longer you stare at the back of Jean’s head. You’re surprised you haven’t chipped a tooth with how hard you’re grinding your teeth together.
He scoffs, not believing you for a second. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you an expectant stare. You can taste the words forming on your tongue, an irritating urge to just spill your guts overcoming you. Before you can stop yourself you blurt out, “I’m a little surprised that’s all.”
“Oh yeah, ‘bout what?” You hate how amused he sounds, the chuckle just lying in wait under his words. Like your anger is funny to him, like he didn’t just break your stupid fucking heart.
You stop walking, not feeling as intimidating as you want while you shiver and huddle into yourself. He seems perfectly at ease in his leather jacket and beater, still refusing to wear the uniform. He leans back and looks at you with a fondness that you can’t tell if you love or hate. “You and little Miss Perfect.” You spit the nickname with enough venom to make both of your eyes widen.
Logan rolls his eyes and takes a step towards you, again, Storm interrupts you both. “Guys, really?” Everyone turns around to stare and you will the heat in your face away. “Not the time,” she scolds and you brush past Logan to catch up with the others.
You come upon a warehouse, it’s nearly camouflaged under all the snow. You see two guards waiting outside the metal doors and you all disperse behind the trees. Storm glances towards Jean who focuses on the guards. They drop to the floor and you wave your hands, their guns melting into puddles of metal.
Logan and Scott move forward, sliding the large metal doors open. You wince at the loud screeching as the rust flakes off the sides. There’s a collective quiet as you all hold your breath, waiting for them to give the all-clear. Once they run inside and run back out, you and the others quickly get to your feet and rush into the warehouse. Logan closes the doors again as you make it inside.
“No one here?” Storm checks. Scott shakes his head and you frown. That doesn’t make any sense. Why would there be guards if there was nothing inside?
Your question is, unfortunately, answered a minute later. You find a pile of metal crates stacked on top of each other. A large beige tarp covers them. You tug at the corner, letting the fabric slide off. Your eyes flutter with disappointment, “Guys! Over here,” mutants sit inside the crates. Each of them stares at you with varying degrees of mistrust and fear.
As awful as it is, you’ve gotten used to these quiet depressing missions. There aren’t usually many mutants in one place. They don’t like to keep the product in one spot for too long. There are only four kids here. The youngest is eleven and the oldest is seventeen. There’s nothing physically telling about their abilities so you assume it must be psychic powers.
They don’t want to come with you until you all give them a demonstration of your powers. Proving that you’re not just trapping them and taking them somewhere worse. You’re nearly out the door when Charles's voice rings loudly through all of your minds.
You wince at the volume, hands coming up to grip at your hair as he shouts, “Behind you!” A gunshot rings out, something hot rips across your wrist and you gasp in pain. There’s a clatter of metal as your cuff drops to the ground, the bullet having destroyed it. Without them both, they’re useless. One won’t work without the other.
You glance up at Logan, a panicked look on your face. You can already feel the tidal wave of power thrashing and building in your chest. It’s been so long with the safety net that you forgot how bad it gets without the cuffs.
“We need to get you out of here!” He shouts over the gunfire. He herds the group behind a cluster of metal shipment boxes. It provides enough cover for you all to try and figure out an escape plan.
You listen to the other’s worried voices, each of them trying to console the kids. You don’t know their powers yet. Don’t know what might go wrong if they get too scared and can’t control their abilities.
You can’t speak, breaths coming short and fast as you clutch your wrist to your chest. You know it’s delusional, hoping that if you keep a tight grip like the cuff you might be able to control yourself. You can already feel the energy leaking out of you, the ends of everyone’s hair stands on end. The wall in front of you warps and cracks like it can’t decide if it’s liquid or solid.
You grit your teeth and look only at Storm. “You need to get out,” you force the words out. It causes physical pain to try and keep everything at bay. You can feel pressure building in your forehead, pushing out until you think you might explode.
“We’re not leaving you,” Logan snaps. There’s shouting going on behind you, a pause as they all reload their guns.
“Wasn’t a question,” you grit out. You look towards Jean and there’s a moment where you both put aside your differences. You both know how stubborn he is, how much he’ll fight against leaving you behind. Regenerative powers or not, it's dangerous to even be close to your gift now. You can see them all straining against the ebbing flow of your powers. Their skin shifts unnaturally like you’re already altering the atoms of their being.
This is why you’re only allowed to train with Charles and Jean. They can get in your head, shut it down when you can’t. You’re not sure you’re going to survive yourself. Logan glances between the two of you and practically growls at Jean, “Don’t you fuckin’ dare-”
His words trail off into an unintelligible slur as he slumps forward, Jean having knocked him out with her powers. Scott grabs him and grunts under the weight of his body. “I’ll cover you,” you gasp the words out. Anything but focusing on your powers causes physical strain that makes you feel like you’re being tugged in a hundred different directions. “Just get them out,” you nod towards the kids.
Storm nods and you slip out of cover. It isn’t hard to push your powers in one direction, to solidify the air in front of you so the bullets ricochet harmlessly off. You listen to the whine of the metal door and wait for the others to be gone.
“They’re in the jet,” Charles's voice rings out. “Don’t do this,” he warns. You can’t think of a response, you’re not even sure what you would say. You never thought you would be able to approach death this calmly, or that this would be how you die. It feels almost pathetic, dying because you lost control on a recon mission.
At least those kids are safe. It’s not a bad reason to die. Just not great. You glance down at the other cuff on your right hand, the air around it fluctuates until it melts off your wrist like liquid metal. With the last barely there tether off your powers, you close your eyes and release the tidal wave.
It feels like a dam exploding. It doesn’t leak fluidly from you, it rips through you like a hailstorm of knives. Tears apart anything in its path and rewrites the molecular build of everything in its path. Screams echo through the air as men’s bones turn into brittle dust and their hearts morph into something inorganic. You’re blind to everything around you, vision clouded by the horrific release of energy.
You can feel warmth leaking down your face. Blood still pours from the wound on your wrist, and fresh blood from other wounds you can’t even feel. You don’t know when the screams stop, or when you’re finally drained. But you feel like an empty husk as you drop to the floor, your head bouncing harshly against the cement as everything goes black.
“I’m gonna kill you,” Logan says with a grin, glaring at Scott even though it’s Charles who is holding him back. He’s got a firm mental grasp on Logan, keeping him locked into place while he focuses on the warehouse.
They’re waiting for the all-clear. The others know there’s always the possibility that they’re going to be collecting a body. But none of them are willing to say that, not with the look on Logan’s face. His muscles look ready to pop out of his skin with how much he’s fighting against Charles’s hold.
Scott backs away from Logan with a scoff. He stands near Jean, but she can’t take her eyes off the restrained man. Nothing had happened this morning, Flux had seen to that. Interrupting them just as they’d started. Seeing the way he’s acting now, she’s starting to believe that nothing is ever going to happen.
He’d looked like he was about to dismiss her when she started making a move. She can see the anger on his face, it seems he’s only ever pissed off. But underneath that, as much as he hides it, she can see the fear. He’s terrified that they're going to walk in there and you’re going to be dead.
Jean can feel the fear of the others as well. They’ve only seen you lose control once and that had almost leveled the mansion. Charles had stopped you then, but the loss of the cuff had been so sudden Jean just barely had enough strength to keep the others blocked from your powers. She didn’t have enough time to shut you down.
Jean, as much as she’s tried to deny it and dismiss her suspicions, can’t look Logan in the eye and ignore it anymore. It’s never been her that he’s wanted. The way he trails along beside you, always prodding and poking until you’re pissy and mouthing off. It’s not done because he finds antagonizing people fun, it's because he loves seeing you all worked up and passionate. He doesn’t view you through the same platonic lens he does the others. You’re something else to him, something she doesn’t want to name, afraid of the bitter taste it will leave on her tongue.
Charles slumps back in his chair and Logan suddenly lunges forward. He looks a little surprised by the sudden freedom of movement, but before any of them can stop him he’s running out of the jet. “Logan,” Jean tries to call after him but he’s already a distant blur.
Scott sighs and starts down the ramp. “Come on,” he mutters. He’s the last one who should be coming along. If anything is wrong with you, he’ll end up being Logan’s punching bag. Jean follows reluctantly, she’s not sure she wants to see what’s happened.
Your powers are too similar in their volatile nature. The way they rule you and come so close to destroying you when you use them too much, is too familiar to Jean. She doesn’t want to see you lying dead on the floor and be reminded of her own mortality. But someone needs to make sure Logan is stuck on a leash.
They reach where the warehouse should be. It’s nothing but a pile of rubble now. Throughout the wreckage, Jean can make out odd pools of liquid, some writhing, others still. She can only assume that these had been the men shooting at them. She doesn’t see your body, none of them do. But Logan isn’t giving up.
He lifts different pieces of metal and tosses them off into the forest. Jean doesn’t sense your presence anywhere but she doesn’t have the heart to tell Logan to give up. After a few minutes of searching, she almost tells him to quit. But she can’t see him anymore. He’s disappeared somewhere behind a particularly large pile of roofing. A moment later, Logan stands up. His jacket is gone, wrapped around the body in his arms. None of them are close enough to see if you’re breathing. And he doesn’t say a word as he brushes past them, just keeps going back to the jet. Ororo, Scott, and Jean all share a silent look. None of them prepared for the potential fallout that’s going to happen after this.
The first thing you feel is two familiar bands of metal around your wrists. The comforting feeling of the cuffs is enough to have you sinking further into the pillows surrounding you. Then you hear the beeping in your ear, feel the cool blow of AC, and become startlingly aware of the fact that you’re in a bed you don’t recognize.
You groan, eyes peeling open painfully as your lashes get stuck on your skin. You reach up to rub at your face but your arms feel too weak to lift. You give up on the thought, instead staring up at the ceiling and waiting for your vision to refocus.
A throat clears in front of you and you nearly jump out of your skin. Sitting at the end of your bed, arms crossed and a fierce glare on his face is Logan. His feet are propped up on the small table beside you. He quirks a brow and gives you a sardonic grin, “Finally awake, princess?”
Normally the name would have you up and doing somersaults, but there’s something distinctly negative and disappointed lacing his tone. It squashes any and all butterflies in your stomach. You grimace as you try and sit up. Logan is up in an instant, an annoyed look still on his face as he helps you up.
You can’t help your dopey smile at how gentle his hands are on you. Even pissed off, he treats you so kindly. Maybe it’s the drugs relaxing you, or the fact that you almost died, but you can’t remember whatever made you mad at him. You can only feel the slide of his calloused hands against your arms, the way you shiver under his touch and crave more.
He pulls the chair closer to you with a loud scratch of metal feet on the linoleum. You groan at the loud sound and he huffs, throwing himself down in the seat. “How do you feel?”
Your head sinks back against the wall and you finally realize you’re in the medbay. It’s why everything smells so sterile. “Like I got hit by a semi.”
He barely lets you finish your thought before he spits out, “What the fuck were you thinking?” He doesn’t ease you into this at all and you frown. You’re not sure why you would expect him to ever beat around the bush. That’s not his style, he’s always been blunt. Even when others wish he wouldn’t be.
“What else was I supposed to do?” You ask, voice weak. Your throat feels like it’s been ripped apart. Idly, you wonder if you had been screaming in the warehouse or if this was just general strain from the whole ordeal.
“Not put yourself at risk like that.” He leans forward, voice stern and bordering on shouting. You know he’s holding back. As much as he wants to lay into you right now, he’s stopping himself from going completely out of his mind. You appreciate it, but you almost wish he would just yell at you. You wish you had a reason to resent him, to finally get over him. “Not have Jean knock me out like that. You don’t get to make those decisions for me.”
It’s completely inappropriate and horrible timing, but you can’t help but scoff at the mention of Jean’s name. Can you not have one conversation that’s not tainted by the mention of the redhead?
Logan’s mouth snaps shut and he glares at you in disbelief. You squeeze your eyes shut, not willing to face him as embarrassment washes over you. No wonder he always calls you kid. You’re not exactly acting like an adult. You’re being a brat and for such a stupid reason too.
Just because you like him doesn’t mean he has to reciprocate. You can’t just force your feelings on someone. “Logan,” you whisper his name, “Sorry. I’m sorry-”
He cuts you off before you can finish. Some of the anger, but not all, has ebbed from his expression. He almost looks like he’s smiling. “Jean? That’s what this is about? Jealous or something, sweetheart?”
You sputter, shocked little noises leaving you but no words. After a solid minute of restarting a sentence you don’t know how to end you finally land on a squeaky, “Who?” If you weren’t so mortified, you might have just thrown yourself out the window. Out of every cop-out you could have gone with you chose to just pretend you didn’t know who she was. Maybe you could make this work, like selective amnesia.
Your shame only builds as Logan laughs. You cover your face and wish you could bury yourself six feet deep and never come up. You feel two rough hands wrap around your wrists, tugging your own away from your face. You don’t have the energy to fight back, so you keep your eyes on his chin. Too afraid to meet his gaze.
“Come on,” he mutters, gently nudging your chin up until you’re forced to look at him. You're caught off guard by the look in his eyes. You recognize it, but you’d only ever seen it directed at Jean. It’s the same way you’ve always looked at him. Pure unguarded want and desire.
The hand on your chin drifts back, fingers tangling in your hair and gently resting on your jaw. He tugs you forward until your lips are nearly touching, breaths mingling with every exhale. “Only ever wanted you, darlin'.’”
The kiss catches you off guard. It shouldn’t, deep down you knew it was coming, but the intensity behind it, the way you can practically taste how bad he wants this, wants you, catches you off guard. You lean into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting yourself melt into his hold.
His free hand drifts to your waist and clutches the flimsy hospital gown until you hear it tear. You part your lips, deepening the kiss so you can finally taste him. It’s cigars and whiskey, something you should hate but is entirely intoxicating when he’s holding you so tightly. Fireworks are going off in your mind, sparks darting between your fingers as the cuffs struggle to contain all the energy suddenly pushing out of you.
He can feel you holding back, squeezing you like it’s a promise he can take it. Take everything you throw at him. You let go as much as your cuffs will allow you. Let the energy blanket you both so you can’t hear your heart monitor going off like crazy. So you don’t feel anything other than each other. You think you’re going to devour each other like you’ll just keep kissing until neither of you can take it anymore. You don’t want to let go of him, don’t want to lose this moment.
But you have to breathe. You don’t get to just keep living the way he does. You pull away from him slowly, every part of you dreading separating from him. His forehead drops against your own, his laughter playing along your lips as he finally hears the monitor going haywire.
You groan, flicking your wrist and shutting it off so it can’t betray how flustered you are anymore. He gently nudges you aside so he can sit beside you on the bed. You don’t waste a second before you’re draping yourself across his chest and siphoning his warmth. He chuckles, arms coming up to wrap around you.
“Can’t believe you were jealous of Jean.”
“Shut up,” you snipe. You look up at him and glare, “How else do you explain what you two were doing?”
He leans forward and gives you a smug grin. “She came onto me, sweetheart.” Your face screws up in distaste and jealousy. She’s going to need to learn to keep her hands to herself. He seems to feel the way you tense up, he huffs in amusement and rubs your back. “Relax, you’re gonna blow your fuse again.”
You glance down at your wrists and nuzzle further into him. You can’t believe you could have been laying on him this whole time. You never want to use a blanket again, not when you’ve got him. “I’ll be fine now that I’ve got my cuffs.”
His hand stills on your bicep. He squeezes it before his hand drifts up to your chin and he tilts your face up again. “I don’t ever want to see that again.” You’re a little surprised by the sudden shift in tone, but you knew this was coming.
“I had to, Logan. I either took you all down with me or I went on my own.”
Logan frowns and takes in a deep breath. You place a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiles down at you, “Next time, take me with you. I’m not fucking dealing with Summers without you.”
You can’t help but chuckle. Your face grows warm and your chest expands with some odd gleeful feeling as he laces your fingers together. “Deal,” you whisper, still smiling at him.
A/N: Okay, this might be shit, I’m not sure. I sort of rushed the ending because as I was writing this I had another idea for him. I guess I’m officially off my hiatus.
end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
#wolverine x reader#Wolverine x you#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett#logan howlett x you#x men#deadpool and wolverine#Wolverine
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If Civil War didn't end in divorce and everyone lived together Part 2
Read Part 1 and Part 3
Tony: Why is Underoos mopping the ceiling?
Sam: Told him since he's sticky that's his chore
Bucky: It's only fair he helps out around the house
Tony: Hm. Makes sense
-
Vision cooked dinner:
Peter: *pushing around food to make it look eaten*
Natasha: *surreptitiously spitting into napkin*
Steve: *taking small bites with tons of water*
Bucky: *just stares at full plate*
Tony: Well this is disgusting, I'm ordering pizza
-
Sam: C'mon man stop moping around, you gotta get yourself a girl
Bucky: Ok.
Sam: Ok? Okayyyyy! I know-
Bucky: Give me your phone
Sam: Oh you got a number in mind already hotshot? *hands phone over*
Bucky: *ring* Hi Sarah ;)
Sam: BOY-
-
Peter: Ned thought you would seperate your colours from your lights but he also thought you'd be homophobic so I don't pay him much mind cuz clearly I'm more of a superhero expert than him but he does have a 2% better average than me in history so like maybe you do hand wash your clothes and that's why I asked what underwear you wear because-
Steve: *listening intently with apprehension and alarm*
Natasha: I can't believe you found the one person on Earth who talks more nonsense than you
Tony: I know right, it's incredibly unnerving. I'm planning on adopting him
-
Peter: Mr. Stark I have to tell you something. I think Vision is a... *whispers* pervert
Tony: Um, why?
Peter: He keeps floating through my room without knocking! He saw me changing, he saw my nipples !
Tony: Well if anyone's a predator here it would be you. I mean showing your nipples to a 2 year old? Deplorable.
Peter:
Peter: Oh god, I'm the pervert...
-
Bucky: Y'know animosity isn't good between teammates. I think we should spend more time together
Sam: Am I being punked right now? Where's the camera
Bucky: I'm serious. I think it would be healthy for us to bond
Sam: Okay fine I'll bite... what did you have in mind
Bucky: Wanna go for a run?
Sam: *slams door in Bucky's face*
-
*staring at Bucky's sparkly clean metal arm*
Bucky: Dishwasher?
Peter: Dishwasher :)
(later that day)
Bucky: I've decided to let the child live
Peter: YoU wHaT?!
-
Thwip
Tony: Who took my coffee cup, It was right here
Thwip
Bruce: Um, has someone seen my book? I just had it
Thwip
Steve: I could've sworn I was holding a pen a moment ago
*giggling from the ceiling*
Tony: Young man I will take those webshooters away if you use them for shenanigans and rascality
Peter, muffled: Mr. Hawkeye told me to!
Clint: Oh so you're just gonna rat me out like that?
Peter: Sor- OOF
*falls out of ceiling vent*
-
Sam: You're in my spot
Bucky: There are no spots, it's a common area
Sam: Well that's my spot
Bucky: Did you buy the chair??
Sam: No, but everyone knows that's where I sit. Right Steve?
Steve: Oops I forgot something in my car, be right back *leaves*
Sam: Still my spot
Bucky: Still not
Sam: *sits on him*
Bucky: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU ALL THE COUCHES ARE FREE-
Sam: IT'S MY SPOT YOU CAN'T TAKE A MAN'S FAVOURITE CHAIR-
BUCKY: YOU HAVE ISSUES GET OFF ME-
(one hour later)
Steve: Hey so turns out I don't have a car! Isn't that funn...
Sam & Bucky: *Squeezed awkwardly on the chair together*
Steve: I think I left something in my car
-
Steve: Leave the bedroom door open when you have Vision in there
Wanda: UGH you're so protective
Tony: Teenagers, am I right? Caught Pete reassembling my particle accelerator at midnight because he needed to neutralize a miniature nuclear bomb he nabbed off some guy he neglected to tell me was trying to kill him
Steve:
Steve: Wanda y'know what do whatever you want
Wanda: Really?
Steve: Yes just keep being normal. At least I can read about our issues in a parenting book
-
Thor: Ah, new warriors I see! Good to make all your acquaintance. But why are you so grumpy my friend?
Bucky: *glaring*
Peter: He's always like that. It's um, P- P- PMS? Wait -
Natasha: Yes it's PMS
Wanda: He's got it bad
Steve: *genuinely concerned* Bucky you didn't tell me something was wrong. What can I do to help?
Bucky:
Bucky: I like chocolate
-
Wanda: Welcome to the first annual girls night! This place reeks of men, so I thought we needed some women time
Pepper: Why is Vision here?
Wanda: I get sad when he's gone
Natasha: Why is Pietro here?
Pietro: Slay queens
Wanda: Moral support I think
Maria: Why is Peter here?
Wanda: He looked really upset when I said he wasn't included and I felt bad
Wanda: Anyways... yay girls! Who wants me to paint their nails?
Peter: ME ME ME
-
Steve: Pancakes or waffles?
Natasha: Pancakes
Steve: Good because I don't have a waffle maker
Natasha: Then why would you ask-
Steve: It's important for your voice to be heard, as team leader I value your opinion
*2 minutes later*
Steve: Good morning Clint, pancakes or waffles?
Clint: Waffles
Steve: Oh no.
-
Some of these were based on requests (ex. more Sam & Bucky, dad Steve w/ Wanda) so if you have certain dynamics you enjoy let me know !
#irondad and spiderson#marvel incorrect quotes#marvel mcu#mcu#incorrect marvel#incorrect quotes#incorrect marvel quotes#avengers#domestic avengers#the avengers#irondad#peter parker#tony stark#steve rogers#bucky barnes#sam wilson#sambucky#natasha romanoff#wanda maximoff#clint barton#pietro maximoff#thor odinson#bruce banner#marvel#vision
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as far as jack could tell, jervis was really out of it; and it made him wonder it was due to something that had happened while he was out with his father, or when they'd gotten here. perhaps both. jack gnawed on his bottom lip, his eyes darting to jervis's hands, which were flexing like he was struggling with something. an eyebrow rose as jack contemplated asking whether he needed some pain medication.
since he didn't receive an answer to his question yet, jack figured he might as well introduce himself. ❝ uhh, well, you don't have to talk to me if you aren't feeling up to it. my sister told me that you fainted in front of her out there — so, i understand if you're still feeling sick. my name is jack, ❞ he scratched at the back of his neck as he continued to observe jervis. whenever the man tried to get up, jack approached him and was about to caution jervis that maybe he shouldn't by lightly touching his shoulder.
but he remembered matilda telling him something about the other really not liking to be touched, so he merely was going to verbally tell him. up until jervis laid back down himself, anyhow. jack couldn't hold himself back from frowning at his poor present state before venturing out of the room with a 'i'll be right back.' and indeed he had been, with two different vials, alongside a few syringes to inject into that IV bag: should jervis want to be medicated. jack figured it'd be easier to just do that rather than forcing him to swallow anything.
he placed those also on the table before tilting his head at the quote jervis had said until it clicked a few seconds later, ❝ that's a quote from through the looking glass, isn't it? and one that the red queen said in the story if i remember correctly. she was basically teaching alice that staying in the same place is falling behind, right? ❞ jack squinted his eyes at that before a thought came to mind. a soft snort left him, but one that was done of an innocent sort of amusement rather than malice. ❝ that is a kind of roundabout way of talking about survival of the fittest. but hey, lewis carroll was all about the whimsy of things, i guess. and its no big deal. ❞
jack pretended not to see the tears that the other shed for jervis's own sake. the blood on his lips was something he couldn't ignore, no matter how hard he tried, though. jack grabbed a washcloth from his pack and held it out towards's jervis's hand. once it was out of his hand was when jack set down that teacup, the slightly too long stripped pants he wore swaying across the ground. ❝ mm, you and dad were both asleep for nearly four hours. sure — i don't think that's silly at all. i keep something on me all the time from when my brother, julien, was still around. ❞ the bracelet he showed the other on his right wrist then seemed to be made up entirely of tiny conch shells.
julien was a big fan of the sea, which jack thought made his death all the more crushing. after seeing the state that the stuffed animal was in, he figured that that bunny must've been really loved; though it didn't really matter by whom it was. the end result was the same, as love changes you. jack knew this well as he'd never wanted anything more than to be embraced by the warmth of it.
he quickly shook that thought off, only to grab the two vials he got from the fridge once more. ❝ eh... the four hours actually went by rather fast. ❞ jack cleared his throat then, ❝ you know, i couldn't help but notice that you aren't looking so hot still, and so i grabbed some meds for you. but i won't force you to take them. i have a pain reliever as well as something that relieves vertigo. are either, or both of these, something you want? ❞
Eigengrau.
A faint hum buzzed in his ears; his mouth was so dry it felt like he’d swallowed a wad of wool.
The thin sheet beneath him brushed his fingertips as Jervis flexed his hands, cracking his eyes open a sliver. The room tilted, everything blurring at the edges. Ah… so he had fainted. Just as he’d suspected. No glasses, then.
"Hey. Ahh, you're awake… That's awesome. How are you feeling?"
The new voice was barely a whisper, young and uncertain—belonging to a boy, maybe sixteen or eighteen by the timber. Was this another of Barton's assistants, a friend of Matilda’s, or perhaps her brother? Jervis couldn’t quite remember; hadn't Barton mentioned something about having more than one child?
He winced, his body feeling heavy, leaden; aching everywhere. Slowly, he exhaled and tried to push himself upright—tried being the keyword. The effort brought only a wave of vertigo, dizzying and blue-hot, making his vision swim.
… ohh, god…
He swallowed thickly, curling into himself. Something wasn’t right. His glasses and gloves weren’t the only thing missing. He was in his socks, jeans, and a now damp charcoal t-shirt, his body slick with cold sweat. His graying auburn curls clung to his neck in tangled ropes. His boots were beside the cot, his messenger bag on a desk across the room. His overcoat and maroon button-down were draped over a chair.
A flicker of discomfort in his right arm. Burning. Tugging.
Jervis glanced down at the source: a plastic tube. A peripheral IV catheter.
"Ah, you know... 'It takes all the running you can do, to stay in the same place,'" he muttered, his voice clipped and hollow; Bermudian accent casual, almost detached. He turned his eyes to the boy; offered him a faint, strained smile. "Keeps things interesting, I suppose... but I appreciate your concern, lad."
He lifted his fingers to his cheek, feeling the moisture trickle down—salt on his lips. Tears, sharp and stinging. Jervis flinched and quickly scrubbed them away with the heels of his hands.
Cold metal pressed into his spine, tight around his neck—the chain with his and Sylvie’s wedding rings twisted against his skin. He must’ve been thrashing in his sleep. There was blood on his lips.
"Forgive me…" His vision swam as he watched the boy set a teacup on the small table beside the cot, just within view. "But I'm afraid I've rather lost my sense of time. How long has it been since I…?" He paused, his voice barely steady. "... if... if you don’t mind, could you please reach into my coat pocket? You'll find a small cuddly toy. A rabbit..." He rubbed his mouth, lowered his eyes. "It sounds foolish, I know... but it... it was my daughter's, you see..."
The boy nodded, moving quickly to retrieve the toy from Jervis’ coat pocket, and placed it on the table beside the teacup. The bunny was missing one of its button eyes, its white fur faded and matted. A pink satin ribbon around its neck was frayed and tattered.
“Thank you,” Jervis said hoarsely. “I must have been out of it for quite a while.”
#divingdownthehole#tw: mentions of child death.#tw: medication.#tw: illness.#ooh okay okay 👀 that song was also a really good listen while reading your reply! like GAH you are just so good at selecting songs-#that capture the vibes of your replies perfectly tbhhh. BUT hiii!! and aww well i was just telling you the truth about how i felt but#its no problem at all emi!!! and OMG really? honestly i didn't get that impression at all as i thought your reply perfectly described-#just how complex the effects of trauma on a person can be as characters are a reflection of real life people so it only makes sense-#that jervis's mind is just... so chocked full of images related to the things he's been through despite him not wanting to be reliving#these events or seeing them anymore you know? and i honestly can't blame him for seemingly not wanting to do either of those things as#recovery + healing isn't really ever a straight path as you pointed out there. thus i didn't think any of it was overdramaticized or#anything of that nature! so don't worry you're totally good with that!! but yeah jervis as a character has really been dealt a bad hand#in my opinion and that's really unfortunate because no one deserves having to lose their parents or lose their daughter ):#and jervis is at a spot in his timeline where he has still lost alice relatively recently right? so that's just. UGH i feel so bad for him#tbh as having to experiencing one of your kids dying sounds really terrible.#but AWW well thank you so much for saying so!! it makes me so happy to hear that you're always excited for them. but yeahhh-#trust me when i say their madness may be even worse when they're just amongst themselves unfortunately enough ahahhh... 🫠#but i'm so honored? that you were intrigued?? by my description of him??? like AHHH i'm giving you the biggest hug RN and i just-#want to say TYSM once more!!! but yes i'm not going to lie because jack + julien were basically like brothers before barton-#even came along jack was very attached to him and julien didn't like killing people either so he was sort of a good influence on him#which might be part of the reason why he is the way he is now TBH but sadly dysfunctional family dynamics often leave people#suffering in their own way from it as you said. but AHH thank you!! you're so sweet PLSSS like i'm glad that you find him interesting-#BC he is a good person at heart unlike barton but they contrast in a different way than say jervis and him would since he tries-#to live his life down the straight and narrow buttt that doesn't always happen for him. and yesss barton is back to bother everyone / hj#LOLLL but gosh you're right!! i think i remember you mentioning it back then :00 but yeah i did some casual research on on it when you-#mentioned the quote in your reply and i thought that the red queen hypothesis had something to do with darwin's survival of the fittest-#idea + it turns out that i was right so i am somewhat proud of myself for that NGL lmao but TBH that is just another example of you-#using such good character writing with jervis because subtext and nuance is like one of those things that i find hard to write sometimes#but what a character doesn't say is also just as important AS what they say so its interesting that you'd bring that up. but huh i never-#actually thought of it that way before but that does definitely seem to check out if i'm being honest. BC grief never truly goes-
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Sunbathing
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Summary: you’ve decided to sunbathe topless, or as your husband Joel would put it, you’ve decided to torture him.
Warnings: needy Joel, kind of sub!joel, unprotected p in v, premature ejaculation, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), come play.
a/n: i sunbathed topless for the first time and well this wrote itself
"You've seen my boobs before babe" A soft laugh bubbled up your throat as you turned your head left.
He wasn't even pretending not to be staring.
"Not like this"
You smiled, "what does that even mean?"
"not out... here"
You lowered your sunglasses to see him better, tilting your head to ask for further explanation
Yes you were outside, by the pool of the beautiful summer house you'd rented, but you didn't get how that made any difference, they were the same boobs he'd seen hours prior in your bed.
"I'm not used to not doing anything about them"
"ah" you hummed "is it that hard?"
You didn't even need to look at the smirk painting his face to regret your choice of words.
"yeah babydoll, it's real hard"
You only needed to lower your gaze a little to asses his statement.
"You're incorrigible"
"And you're torturin' me darlin'"
"How am I torturing you?" you laughed "I'm just taking advantage of the privacy we have to get a good tan"
"and besides, I seem to remember how hard it is for you to see me with the whole bikini on too"
He sat up, the sunbed squeaking as he faced you.
"It ain't my fault if my wife's so pretty it hurts"
"you get so dramatic when you're horny" you chuckled, rolling your eyes.
He smiled, letting his gaze wander all over your body for a good minute, before getting back at your face
"nothin's gonna happen is it?" his tone was full of hope nonetheless
"no baby" you shook your head
He sighed, dramatically letting his head fall to his chest
"I'll have a swim then"
"have fun honey"
__ __ __
"darlin'?"
Not even ten minutes had passed, and that scene from the Barbie movie with the "Ken! Go for a walk or something" line couldn't not pop into your head.
"yes?"
He was standing right next to your sunbed, dripping wet and blocking out the sun.
"don't ya need sunscreen?"
A soft smile pulled at your lips.
Ten minutes, that's how long it took for him to come up with that.
"I put it on already"
He wasn't gonna give up, not on the first try.
"how long ago?"
"an hour, I think"
"the sun's real strong now doll," he said, drying his hair with a towel before throwing it on his bed "I think it's best if you put some more on… I can do it for you if you don't feel like it"
You chuckled, looking up at him, but he stayed in character, continuing to look oh-so worried about your safety.
"Somehow I knew that offer was coming"
"'m just worried about my wife, 's all"
he'd crouched down, taking your hand in his
"mh-mh" you hummed, sarcasm tracing your tone
"can't have you get sunburt now, can we?"
"no, we can't" you played along, smiling at him
"'f course" he murmured, leaning down to leave a soft kiss on your lips as he grabbed the sunscreen.
"I'm so lucky to have such a caring husband"
"I'm the only lucky one babydoll"
He gave you one more kiss, before he leaned away and got to work.
He squeezed some cream into his hand, but to your surprise, his hands didn't land where you'd expected them to-
Only his eyes were betraying him. They were only on one, or actually two things even when it was your legs he was massaging.
The coldness of the cream and his hands felt good against your warm body, so much you couldn't help but hum appreciatively.
"feels good?"
"yeah baby" you breathed as his hands made their way to your thighs.
It always amazed you how hands so big, rough, and strong were able to be so gentle and soft on you.
You couldn't deny the shivers running up your body when his fingers reached your inner thighs, getting close to your core.
"what's that?" your husband was smirking like a cat, as he dedicated himself much too long on that spot.
"I didn't say anything"
If he thought this was gonna work, he was wrong. It was too hot, and you were too relaxed to do what he so obviously wanted to do... although you both knew how much you liked seeing him desperate...
He still didn't touch your boobs, no, next were your shoulders, then your arms, and then... when he felt on the brink of exploding, when he couldn't stop himself anymore, he squeezed a generous amount of sunscreen in his hands, and oh so gently started massaging your tits.
He couldn't stop a soft groan from fleeing his lips.
It felt amazing- of course it felt amazing, but you didn't wanna give him the satisfaction, and this was mostly for him, not for you, so your eyes remained closed as you pretended like it was nothing.
But that only lasted so long, because Joel could endure just about 30 seconds of that before he was bending down, and his mouth was sucking your nipple.
"Joel!" you gasped, your eyes snapping open just in time to see him climb onto you to straddle your waist, and then go right back to groping and licking and sucking your nipples like it was his life long duty.
"baby you're all wet" you tried complaining, but the smile on your lips was everlasting.
He looked so damingly cute like this, looking up at you with those big doe eyes as he worshipped your tits.
"so are you"
And yeah so what if you were- there's only so much a woman can do in front of this.
A soft laugh spilled from your lips as your hand went to find a place in his hair, your back arching to offer more of yourself to him.
"I don't even know how good it is for you to be licking sunscreen"
The look he gave you made it very clear he didn't give one single fuck.
And just when you were about to protest again, his teeth had gently bit your nipple, and a moan had spilled from your lips.
he took that as an incentive to go further, his hand slowly sliding down your belly, between your bodies, until it was seeping underneath your bikini bottoms.
"babe-" you stopped him, your voice breathless
His hand stopped on your mound as he groaned in frustration.
You could feel his rock-hard cock on you since the moment he straddled you- the man was desperate.
"please doll" he murmured against the soft skin of your chest in between kisses "Gimmie something-anything” he pleaded “Have mercy on your poor husband"
Your response was mixed between a laugh and a moan
"I can take care of you if you want"
He shook his head, his teeth grazing your nipple "Need to feel you darlin’"
Again, a soft giggle rumbled from your chest
"’S too hot to have sex here baby"
His hand had gotten out of your bikini to reach the other on your waist.
"the pool- the ground? fuck- anywhere you want sugar, just tell me where"
His clothed hard-on was rubbing against your core now, and fuck but once again you’d succumbed to Joel and his goddamn irresistible neediness.
"bring me back into the house"
It was like he’d been waiting his whole life to hear those words.
In a haze of kisses and lust, he’d picked you up, letting you hold onto him by wrapping your arms and legs around his body as he hurriedly walked into the house.
He didn’t make it far enough to encounter a single surface- and perhaps that was because he’d stopped looking and placed you against the wall the moment he’d passed the threshold.
His mouth was on your tits again, his cock was out, and his fingers had pulled your bikini to the side.
He said nothing as he slowly began entering you, the only sounds in the room being your moan as you threw your head back, and the groan he emitted, muffled by your skin.
“Oh fuck” you cried once he bottomed out.
Your husband was a very gifted man.
"'m not gonna last"
He sounded like the mere act of talking was taking all of his energy, and yet he was thrusting up into you like it was a matter of life or death.
"'s ok"
"I've been hard since you took your top off" he murmured, his breath fanning over your chest “you-you-jesus”
Your left hand passed through his hair, softly soothing him.
“‘S alright baby, don’t wait for me”
“You’re too fuckin’-” he tried to speak, but he was interrupted by yet another groan
“What?” you taunted him, a smirk pulling at your lips “what is it baby?”
His eyes were wide with desperation as he looked up at you, as his mouth stole languid kisses from your tits.
“Too hot- too goddamn perfect”
You bit down a grin at that, still stroking his hair
“I love you baby” you breathed, his cock reaching the deepest, most fucking amazing spot inside you in the meantime.
The moment those words left your lips your husband was fucked- the only words he was able to mutter were a series of -fuckshitgoddamn- before he inevitably reached his peak, filling you up with rope after rope of come that never seemed to end.
He remained like that for a little while, buried inside you, eyes closed, mouth still connected with your boob, until you left a gentle kiss on the crown of his head, and he woke up from his heavenly trance.
He let out a soft groan as he slipped out of you, and took his time letting you down.
You were smiling at him with that soft smile that melted his insides right up, and he couldn’t help but lean in and kiss it, kiss you like you were a soft delicate thing that he was scared of breaking.
“I love you more” he promised, kissing you again, even if you were smiling.
“Feel better now?”
You said it like he was a kid with a stomach bug, and he couldn’t help but laugh a little.
“Yeah darlin’” he murmured against your mouth “thank you”
“You don’t have to thank me” you laughed, but he was already shaking his head
“Yes I do”
And without further explanation, he’d dropped to his knees.
He slid your bikini to the side once again, looking up at you with only adoration in his eyes.
“Baby you don’t have to” you tried to reason with him, but his mouth was already latched to your clit, and your hand had already flown to his hair.
He remained on your bud long enough to make you desperate, and then he started focusing on your whole core, his tongue lapping between your folds with what could only be described as feral hunger.
His come was everywhere, and yet he didn’t care, he was happy tasting the mix of your fluids, because that’s how Joel was- a nasty nasty man- only for you.
So much so that you felt his tongue enter your hole, simulating what he was doing just minutes before with his cock.
“Fuck-babe-”
Your moans were breathless, more like whines, like prayers.
You were looking at him as he was looking at you and Jesus... He looked fucking heavenly.
His hair all tussled from your fingers, his blown-out pupils, his never-stopping tongue-
“Joel” you cried, but he didn’t dare speak a word as he went back to your clit.
“Shit-baby- god!”
You had to tighten your hold on his hair as your orgasm crept up your body- and it was as you heard him groan with pleasure, as he sucked your clit into his mouth like a man starved, that it all came crumbling down, and you felt your body light on fire as your climax took over.
You were moaning and crying into the air for a good minute before you were sane again.
Only Joel hadn’t stopped eating you out for a single second, and even then, he looked like he had no intention of doing so
“Baby-baby” you whimpered, having to literally pull him away from your core.
He was smiling like a kid, and you couldn’t help but follow suit.
He put your bikini back in place, and then stood up, his hands lingering on your waist
“You’re crazy”
He couldn’t help but kiss you before answering,
“You make me”
#i wrote most of this on the train next to this cute old woman with whom I talked the whole way back home#it was a very wholesome trip tbh#if you ignore me writing smut while she tells me about her niece#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller fluff#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#fluff#joel miller imagine#joel miller blurb#joel miller angst#fanfiction#the last of us#tlou#the last of us hbo#tlou hbo#joel miller x f!reader#sub!Joel#sub joel miller
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