#now i'm going to not stare at a screen for a while

[cookiepie111]

Can't get it out of my head but old man in the mountains könig. His dating profile is weird and criptid like. (König x black reader)

My simple pleasure: hunting

My greatest strengths: me

Best way to ask me out: please

While you sit there swooning and kicking your ankles backs about the guy you've been talking to you. You're friends look through his profile, while you sit there swooning, kicking your ankles back.

"Look at him isn't he so cute!"

Nothing but silence and a worry glanced shared between your friends.

A blur of man, a topples picture of him head covered in the snow. Your friends are less than impressed when they're met with a picture taken too close to the camera. hollow blue eyes staring them down.

Your first friend turns to you "Listen I'm going to hold your hand when I say this"

"IS THAT A BEAR?!"

"There's no way this is real. Please don't tell me this is real?!"

"It's cool right! He said he lives in the countryside, lives off the life sort of thing!"

The look on your friends face is nothing short of disapproval 'you can't really fall for this can you?'

You try to steer the conversation better so your friend doesn't completely lose faith in you.

"We've talked a bunch of times, and even video called, so I know he's real!" You blur out quickly.

"show us right now, call him"

You fumble around calling him, the tone rings twice before he picks up.

The screen in close to his face when he picks

"! Hello!" He seems very excited to see you

"Hi ... just wanted to say hello, my friend also wanted to say hello" you angle the phone towards them, unimpressed as he hides away quickly

"See he is real!"

And shy... where do you finds these men...

[harmonic-intervention]

And your sad blue eyes, like mine

When the call came, Buck was already staring at his phone.

He was also about two months pregnant, but that was beside the point.

Got another fix-it. I am joining the mpreg train.

Word count: 11,104 - getting back together, double mpreg, helicopter crash

Excerpt:

When the call came, Buck was staring at his phone. He knew that Eddie and Hen were throwing disapproving glances his way, but that hardly deterred him. He'd gotten worse about this in the last couple of weeks.

But who could blame him? After the news, the desire to reach out to Tommy had increased tenfold.

Pregnant. About two months, now. He'd found out just last week, after he had felt sick and on a hair trigger with his emotions. He'd gone to the doctor, and she had told him that there was no doubt - he was pregnant.

Which caused a whole new set of problems. Namely, he and the baby's other father were broken up! Had been for pretty much the duration of the pregnancy.

Because Buck could guess when it'd happened - the last time they'd had sex, because they'd had it all night, multiple times, and it fit with the timeline.

Buck had known he had the carrier gene, but he'd been on birth control. Only when he'd told his doctor which one, she'd told him that these had recently been proven to fail after a short while of use.

So, here Buck was. Single, miserable, and pregnant. Staring at his ex-boyfriend's contact as if that would give him the strength to make the call. And he did have to make it. Tommy deserved to know, and the kid deserved to have two parents. And if Tommy didn't want to get involved, well then ... Buck had enough love for five parents.

He was going through what to say when he finally did get the courage to call, like perhaps hey guess what, my birth control failed. Or I'm pregnant and it's yours. Or guess I'm not the only one who's gonna call you daddy now.

Only before he could make a choice, his screen changed.

TOMMY flashed on the screen. Buck had removed the little heart he'd put next to his name and had to force himself not to put it back.

He stared at it. For a moment, he couldn't move. For a moment, he was tempted to let it ring.

He'd been waiting for this for two months. He'd been agonizing over having to call Tommy for the past week. And, let's be real, before that.

He accepted the call. Raised the phone to his ear.

"Hey?" he rasped, and really? Hey?

"Buck."

Buck's hair stood on end. His blood felt frozen in his veins. That was Tommy, alright, but he sounded- there was something wrong, and not just because the word Buck sounded wrong coming from him. He was breathing heavily, and his voice was faint. There was a cough, and it sounded wet and painful.

"Tommy? He-hey, hey what's going on?"

What if he's in trouble and needs my help? Buck had said that to Eddie a couple of weeks ago.

"I-uh, I'm kinda not doing too well," Tommy said, laughed a bit but it turned into another cough, then a pained groan. "Dropped. I- I'm stuck here, I think. Can't really move."

"What do you mean, where are you?"

"I don't really know. Not where I'm supposed to be. Also kinda- think I'm bleeding out a bit."

[continue on ao3]

[faint-taste-of-almonds]

ik they're Jewish, but "Merry Christmas, Please Don't call" by Bleachers is so Stan Twins-coded it honestly makes me cry

no actually I'm not done with this

I don't have the ability to animate for shit (maybe one day) so y'all will just have to suffer through my vaguely-described brainchild bc this makes me so ill not even joking

ok so:

(intro music) We see a split screen, on the left (LSS) is Stan and on the right (RSS) is Ford. Stan is early into his grifter years, and Ford is in college. Both look a little older than when Stan is kicked out. Both are laying awake at night staring at the ceiling, Stan in his car and Ford in his dorm bed.

To the tempo of your uptight Uptight being a synonym for an anxious state, we see each of them tapping a foot or a finger

Is the flicker of a street light A streetlight is visible from the Stanleymobile and from Ford's dorm window, though visibly different ones. The light is flickering, for both of them.

You know this moment don't ya Both twins squeeze their eyes shut, and the lights combine into a single one, different from the ones before. This is the light from outside their Jersey home, the night Stan is kicked out.

And time is strangely calm now Both twins stare off into space, the split screen back in place. Stan is in his car, and Ford in their his room. They are young(er) again. (so, so young)

'Cause everybody's gone it's (LSS): Stan looks to his passenger side, where Ford would sit if he were driving them both. (RSS): Ford looks at Stan's empty bunk, at all the stuff he's left behind.

Just you and your anger We see Stan's fists tightening around the steering wheel, and Ford's around the pamphlet. They are both gritting their teeth while tears drip down their faces.

Oh golden boy We now see singularly from Stan's perspective. The boys as children run past, Ford beaming while playing around with Stan. This is tinged with fondness.

don't act like you were kind This is Ford on the swing, talking about West Coast Tech. This is Ford, shutting the curtains, leaving Stan hanging with his High Six in the air.

You were mine but you were awful every time This is Stan with Ford in the basement, smiling about reconciling before being handed the journal.

So don't tell them what you told me Stan and Ford argue in the basement - This is specifically the line "I'm giving you the chance to do something worthwhile for once in your life."

Don't hold me like you know me Ford and Fiddleford, either in college or working on the portal. Ford looks at a picture of the twins before Fidds calls his attention and he stuffs it back in a pocket.

I would rather burn forever Stan, smoking a cigarette down as far as it will go

But you should know that I died slow Stan, alone in Ford's bathroom, tending to his brand.

Running through the halls of your haunted home Stan looks around the mess that is the cabin while Ford is in his deepest paranoia.

And the toughest part is that we both know Stan leafs through Journal 1, desperate for answers.

What to happened to you Stan, hurt and angry, shoving Ford toward the portal accidentally.

Why you're out on your own Stan, watching Ford begging for him to do something as he is swallowed by the portal.

Merry Christmas, please don't call We see Stan's figure outline sitting in the darkness of the broken portal, hugging the journal. He wants his brother back.

You really left me on the line kid 17 year old Ford in their room, cradling something that triggers a memory of Young Stan and Ford

Holding all your baggage Ford puts this item in a box labeled Keep.

You know I'm not your father Portal-Years Ford stares into a mirror. A comparison of Ford, Stan (the way Ford remembers him), and Filbrick in a mirror. Ford looks away.

Who says welcome to your uptight Filbrick stares at a college-age Ford, inquiring about money.

While it flickers like a street light Ford is still nervous in the face of his father. He remembers what happened to Stan.

He flickers through your damage Ford looks at his hands. Five-fingered hands, rough with callouses and boxing scars overlay them. He curls them into fists and looks away.

Oh golden boy you shined a light on our home Ford's view of Stan, a strong and sociable protector and companion. Similar to the photo of them boxing, with Filbrick in the background.

And at your best you were magic we were sold Young Ford, enraptured by the story that a young Stan is weaving for him.

But don't tell em what you told me Post-Portal Stan and Ford, when Stan renounces Ford as family.

Don't even tell em that you know me Stan with the twins, explaining Ford's relation to him as Ford watches, missing something that he can't quite name.

I would rather burn forever Ford, working himself to the bone to prepare for Weirdmaggedon, ignoring Stan.

But you should know that I died slow Ford's time in the portal. He is constantly reminded of Stan, his memory version of Stan (young and loving) wherever he goes, and it pains him incredibly. Hunted and injured, he goes to talk to his brother, but there's only air.

Running through the halls of your haunted home 17 year old Ford walks past family portraits in their childhood home, pointedly ignoring them.

And the toughest part is that we both know We switch to split screen again. Stan is alone and grifting, Ford is at his HS graduation. There is an empty seat next to him.

What to happened to you Single screen again. This is the packed duffle bag by the door.

Why you're out on your own This is the perpetual motion machine, spinning until it breaks. Stans horrified face appears, then Ford's furiously betrayed one.

Merry Christmas, please don't call Split screen. Snow falls gently, Stan in his car and Ford in the cabin. Phones are in frame for both of them. They don't even look at them.

One ticket out of your heavy gaze Post-college Ford, feeling guilty/remorseful looking at an old picture. He flashes back to Stan pleading eyes looking up from the street that night.

I want one ticket off of your carousel Ford then lays awake at night, thinking about how Stan might be doing.

I want one ticket out of your heavy gaze Grifter Stan, staring at the boxing picture. He flashes back to Ford's betrayed face looking down from the window that night.

I want one ticket off of your carousel Stan then lays awake at night, thinking about how Ford might be doing.

But you should know that I die slow Split Screen: Stan and Ford, fighting/running from Nightmare creatures separately during Weirdmaggedon.

Running through the halls of your haunted home Single Screen: Both running to save the Mystery twins.

And the toughest part is that we both know Both twins locking eyes while caged, the plan forming silently.

What happened to you The memory gun being set to "Stanley Pines"

Why you're out on your own Stan in that clearing in the woods, Ford and the twins running to hug him.

Merry Christmas, please don't call Young Grifter Stan, standing at a phone booth as it snows. Ford answers, but Stan doesn't say anything.

Merry Christmas, I'm not yours at all College Ford sits at the table with his parents and Shermie/Shermie's family, having a holiday dinner. Caryn has put out an empty chair. Ford keeps glancing at it.

Merry Christmas, Please don't call me Slightly Older Grifter Stan stands at a different phone booth, holiday sales being advertised nearby. Ford doesn't answer this time.

Please don't call me The landline in Ford's house rings. Bill symbols have begun to appear.

Please don't call me The landline in Ford's house rings. There's even more of Bill this time.

Please don't call me The landline rings, and Soos answers. The Grunkles are at sea. Stan calls something out to Ford, who is standing at the bow. He turns, and answers. The water is calm, and their arms are now around each other. They don't need a phone, they're right there with each other.

Anyway thanks for bearing with me, I hope you can see my vision :)

[stir-knee-oh-low]

cold yet? || matt sturniolo

matt and izaria weren't exactly friends, but they'd had their fair share of moments. it was never about love— something they convinced themselves of.

to them, it was all a game of back and forth sarcastic comments with teasing smirks and empty flirting. they lived for the chase. to anyone else, it was easy to assume they loved each other’s company, but to them it was just “fun.”

they went to a party together, but as the night went on, the temperature dropped. it was matt who subtly showed he'd been paying attention. he didn't ask if she was cold; instead, he broke her to finally admit it and then just so "happened" to have one in the back seat, pretending like he hadn't thought ahead. it was a small gesture, but the meaning behind it was clear: he cared more than he'd ever let her know.

content: fluff, banter, and flirting, flirty!matt x stubborn!reader

“so… you comin with?” his blue eyes, lazy yet expectant, staring back through the screen. there was no urgency, no rush— the dim glow of his tv casting different shadows on his face highlighting his cocky tilted smile, like he already knew the answer.

lounging on her bed, with her own tv on playing different voice in the back she replied “please... you'd be bored without me” matching his tone, knowing full well he liked having her around, more than he'd like to admit.

“yeah ok” he rolled his eyes, already hearing the sarcastic remark in her voice before she even said anything. almost as to say don’t get too confident now. “just don’t forget your jacket. might get cold later” but she might’ve scoffed a bit too loud because who was he to tell her what to do, she thought. except beneath her actions, a small part of her wondered did he actually notice more about her than she realized? "i'm sure i'll be fine" iz responded, regardless of those small feelings, still being a little too confident. "whatever... i'll text you when I'm coming to pick you up later" "alright" the call ended, leaving her alone to figure out what outfit would get under matt’s skin the most

matt was in iz's driveway waiting and as izaria walked closer to the door and opening it he couldn't help but glance briefly at her outfit as she climbed in on the passenger's side. a mini skirt and small top that basically covered nothing. "c'mon iz... you really didn't bring a jacket?" he genuinely wanted her to bring a jacket but he knew her all too well. her stubbornness was granted and he knew she’d pull something like this. holding back from smirking, he knew it’d only make the night more amusing " 'm not taking advice from the guy that wears the same outfit every time we go out" she bites back with a smirk. all matt does was shrug, keeping his eyes on the road and grinning before slyly replying "not my fault I look good in it, right?" shooting her a sideways smile, she rolled her eyes in pure disbelief "whatever" iz was annoyed at how it seemed like he always got the last word. and she hated how effortlessly he could flash his smug grin, knowing she'd never call him out on how much it got to her. but even then, he never heard her deny it.

as the night went on, the air got colder and began biting at iz’s skin, sending sharp chills down her spine. and as much as she hated to admit it her thin strapy top and a skirt that hung only a few inches beneath her waist was a cute outfit but a bold, yet stupid move nonetheless.

now that she was actually outside with the cold air mockingly brushing her skin, it was beginning to seem like an obviously bad choice as it wasn't exactly helping her prove her point. stubborn as ever, she wrapped her arms around herself and tried to act like the cold didn’t bother her.

however matt noticed. of course he did. she could feel his eyes on her from across the yard, even while he laughed at something one of his friends said. he didn’t approach her immediately, though—he waited, letting her sit with her pride for a little too long before noticing her give in, sliding the back door open and sneaking inside the house.

“cold yet?” matt’s teasing voice caught her off guard as she didn’t realize he had followed behind her. leaning against the counter, water bottle in hand, smirking like he’d been waiting for this moment.

iz turned to face him, “i’m fine,” she said oddly calm, though her shivering betrayed her.

“sure you are” he knowingly responded, taking a sip of water “the whole freezing-to-death thing kinda suits you though.” she glared at him, hugging her arms tighter. “i’m not freezing. I’m just—”

“cold?” he interrupted, his smug grin widening.

iz sighed heavily, rolling her eyes. “your impossible to be around , you know that?”

“and yet, here you are.” iz narrowed her eyes at him, refusing to let the smirk on his face get under her skin. before she could come up with a sharp comeback, matt pushed off the counter, his tone shifting slightly.

“come on,” he said, nodding toward the door. “let’s get out of here before it gets even colder. i’m tired anyway.”

her first instinct was to refuse, to stay and prove that she didn’t need him to rescue her. she opened her mouth to argue, but somehow could think of anything to say. almost like she was somewhat out of comebacks

“fine,” she muttered, trying to make it sound like she was doing him a favor. “fine,” matt copied her with a grin, already heading toward the backyard.

they said quick goodbyes to their friends, gathering their stuff before stepping into the chilly night. as they walked through the different cars in the driveway to matt’s car.

“oh,” matt said casually as he unlocked the doors, “i think i might’ve left a jacket in the backseat the other day. you can grab it while the car heats up.”

iz paused, one hand hovering near the door handle. something about the way he said it felt off—not in a bad way, just... calculated. she opened the door and spotted the jacket right away, neatly folded like it had been waiting for her.

matt watched her pull it out. he had planned this. of course he had. he’d thrown the jacket into the car earlier, convincing himself it was no big deal. just in case. no harm in being prepared, right? but now, seeing her hold it, slip it on, he wondered if it was too obvious.

“really?” she asked, turning toward him, her voice skeptical as she slid her arms through the sleeves. “so this just happens to be here?”

it was easier to fall into old habits, to tease and deflect, than admit he’d thought about her—about her being cold, about her maybe needing him. “what, you think i brought it here just for you?”

her brow arched, the fabric of the jacket soft and oversized on her. “i don’t know, matt. you don’t exactly strike me as the ‘just in case’ type.” matt’s chest tightened for a second. he could tell she was trying to figure him out, and the thought made him nervous in a way he didn’t like to admit.

“just feels convenient,” she muttered, though the bite in her tone had softened.

“or,” matt said, stepping closer and lowering his voice just enough to make her heart skip a beat, “maybe you’re just reading too much into it.” matt had no idea why he was nervous—this was iz. teasing her was second nature, messing with her was even easier. but this wasn’t that. not anymore. being so close to her it made the atmosphere feel off balance.

the way he looked at her then—like he was daring her to call him out, like he knew she wouldn’t—made her stomach flip. she wanted to laugh it off, to roll her eyes and call him insufferable again, but the words wouldn’t come. instead, she held his gaze a second too long, long enough for the air between them to shift.

she simply looked up at him, innocent and confused, and for a second, matt forgot how to breathe.

iz felt it too. the weight of the silence between them, the way her heart pounded in her chest, the way the cold no longer mattered. she hated this—realizing he could easily make her feel things she didn’t want to feel.

matt pulled back, his smirk returning, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “come on. get in the car,” he said, his voice quieter now. “before you overthink it.” yeah— would want that now would we? she thought. she climbed into his car unable to shake off the tension that she just experienced.

val’s notes 💌

pt 2?? guys plss😭 i literally said i was gonna post this weeks ago and then i got caught up with school. good thing is that i have exams next week and then im free to hopefully post more!! but pls lmk if this was good. ill post pt 2 soon (actually this time. at most in 2 weeks😭) sorry!! but anyways hope yall liked this one!!

OMGG ALSOO the first person on my taglist!! ⬇️

TAGLIST: @bibbleisking

def let me know ig you want to be apart of the taglist by commenting or sending me an inbox!! and if you want to be taken off also let me know through inbox or comments!!🩷🫶

[itsmeyaspider]

Visual Love~

Yandere Baki Hanma x reader x Yandere Ohma Tokita

Triggers: yandere behavior, stalking, doxing

>>Art is not mine!! All credits go to the artist!<<

Finally! After a long time of waiting, your two favorite martial arts anime are getting their own videogame, it feels almost like Christmas! Once you'd seen the movie Baki Hanma vs Kengan Ashura, you couldn't wait anymore to play the game to the movie.

You were so pleased that you took the day off to play the game. Some people would call you crazy for making such a fuss over a mobile game, but you couldn't help it. You're just to happy that your favorite characters were represented in other media than only in manga or anime!

You stare at your phone when it's finally 9:00 am, with a huge smile on your face you go to the play store as you see the game, you immediately download it. Your excitement grows bigger and bigger as you decide to go to the kitchen to grab your favorite drink, to cross the long wait.

After a few minutes the game is downloaded, you press the app button as you get greeted with a red glowing screen. A huge white front appears with the 'Baki Hanma vs Kengan Ashura the mobile game'. A few seconds later your two favorite characters, Baki and Ohma also appear on the screen. You could feel how your heart starts to beat faster, as your excitement also grew. You finally press start and immediately the screen is filled with a battle arena. It was a good decision to stay at home today!

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A few hours go by as you can't stop playing this game! It has similarities to Mortal Kombat or Street Fighter, and each of the individual characters has their own signature move with their own special attacks. Well, since you only play as Ohma or Baki, you couldn't really tell what the other special attacks are like, but you honestly didn't care that much about it. You have to much fun winning online fights with those two, that you simply forgot the other ones.

Time flies by as you only now realize how hungry you are. It is already afternoon and because of the game you had forgotten to eat something. With a small sigh you are about to close the app as you notice something strange. A small window pops up.

Don't go....

Weird you think as you brush it off, maybe it is a bug which still needs to be fixed. You finally close the app as you leave your phone on the couch and head towards the kitchen to cook yourself something to eat.

After dinner you decide to take it easy, so you grab your phone as you head to your way to comfortable bed. You slowly start to lay down as you swipe through your contacts. Only now do you realize that the messages from your best friend's chat haven't shown to you. God this phone would kill you one day. You try to open the chat but before you could read it something weird again happened.

(B/f): Heyoooo! :3What's up?! Do you want to face-?¿?¿?¿

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error

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error

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What the fuck?? You roll with your (e/c) eyes in annoyance as the entire app freezes and crashes down. Surely that has to be a bad joke right?! Why does your phone hate you so much? You're trying to calm yourself down as suddenly another message pops up. At first you couldn't believe what you read there...was this even possible?! It takes you a short while to realize that this isn't a weird thought you had, infact this is real. A message from the BvK game pops up, something you didn't thought was ever possible, but maybe the creator added something like that to create more variety...

C'mon let's play! Don't leave us hanging here....

A cold shiver runs down your spine as you suddenly have an uneasy feeling in your stomach. Did someone manage to hack into your damn phone and try to scare you?! Or is your phone so old that it just starts to collapse. You clearly didn't know the answer right now. "Maybe I'm just to paranoid... I guess I need to calm down a bit." You tell yourself as you shrugg the weird feeling off, opening the app again. You spend the rest of the evening paying the game, you didn't have much else to do anyway. But you can't shake the strange feeling of that you're being watched.

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A few days passed and everything became a little more normal again. Maybe it was paranoia after all...You went to your job, did finish the work for today and then went home. You usually eat some food and then continue to play BvK. There is something about the game, what made you addicted. You just couldn't stop playing it. The strange thing is that whenever you wanted to try out other characters that wasn't Baki or Ohma, the whole game would freeze and a huge black screen would appear. Maybe another bug who didn't get fixed yet?

With a small sigh you start to bite your underlip as you stare at the character selection, of course Ohma and Baki will always have special places in your heart, you loved them both but you wanted to try out other characters too! Especially when (b/f) tells you how cool Kaolan or Jack is to play! It can't be that the game keeps crashing when you want to play someone else. Maybe this god damned bug is finally gone...

Your (e/c) eyes glide over the character selection as you take a few minutes to decide. "Then...hmm..I will take you Pickle!" You say to yourself as you sincerely hope that the game has finally been fixed. You click on the 'Fight' button, but before the loading screen could even show up the game starts to freeze and everything goes black. "Not again...oh come one..."

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Why are you doing this?!

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Are we not enough?!

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Don't you see it, we are meant to be together!

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This isn't funny (Y/n)...

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error

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You will be ours....

What the hell?!! Out of sheer reflex, you throw your phone against the wall as you watch in bewildered, how it hits the ground. What the fuck...? Did someone really try to talk to you? Where does this game know your god damn name?! The shock runs deep as you decide not to touch the phone anymore, there's clearly a virus on it because otherwise you can't explain it logical.

You try your best to calm yourself down, taking a few breaths in and out, but even that doesn't help much. You would love to call (b/f) right now and tell him everything about it, but you don't want to touch this cursed phone anymore. Besides, would (b/f) really believe you? After all, you have no proof about it and in the end (b/f) would think that you're just setting him up again.

With a small sigh, you go into your living room as you sit down on the couch. A new phone would probably be the only best solution, at least you hoped. Even if you didn't have a lot of money to buy such an expensive thing, you got no other choice. Maybe (b/f) could borrow you some money. Slowly you lie down on the couch as you notice how your eyelids get heavier and heavier, you let out a big yawn as you fall asleep.

----

The next few days went smoothly, thanks to the help of (b/f) who saved your ass with his money, you were able to buy a new phone. Everything went back to normal, your life got boring again but at least your phone didn't try to blackmail you. Just as you were about to take a shower, a message from (b/f) pops up, with a huge smile on your face you reach for your phone and swipe to the message.

(B/f): "Did you see the new Patch? Ahh they added the death row convicts and fucking Muteba!! (Y/n) you need to play it, I swear it makes so much fun."

You look hesitantly at the message, a cold shiver runs down your spine. Normally, you would have loved to try out the new characters, but something deep inside you tells you not to.

(Y/n): I don't know...what if the virus comes back and destroys also my new phone. :( I'm broke rn I can't effort another phone...

It took no less than a few seconds for another message to pop up.

(B/f): Oh c'mon it won't happen again. Maybe you were a little bit to careless and went to strange sites~😉

You roll your eyes in annoyance as you read the teasing message, another sigh leaves your mouth as you head to the all to familiar play store and download the game again. Maybe (b/f) is right, you were a little bit careless. Besides, what are the chances thar something like this happens twice? The fact that other characters were finally added too made you so happy that you immediately go into your shower. You want to play the games again and this time without any weird coincidences.

Minutes pass and you find yourself on your couch where you start the game again. Just as you are greeted with the all known home screen, you have the feeling that you are being watched again. But this time it's worse that the last times... it's more intense and you almost feel like a small trapped animal that has been cornered by predators. You start to bite on your underlip as you shake off the unpleasant feeling as much as you can, you head straight to the battle arena where you find all the characters, even the new ones.

A small smile graces your lips as your eyes pass slowly through every character. Of course the option to play Baki or Ohma again would be there, but this time you want to play someone else. You know them both very well, their attacks and special moves, anything from it and so it's only logical to try someone new. Your eyes continue to wander around, as they suddenly stop. For a moment you rethink everything about who to really choose, but in the end you decide to play Doyle.

Exitment runs through your body, when the familiar loading screen appears in front of you, it only takes a few seconds as Hector stands in the fighting arena. Oh my god! A rush of relief runs through as you can finally enjoy this game. You play a few rounds with Hector, losing most of the time. Maybe you're not as good as you thought, just as Hector does his final pose, the screen goes black.

Two all too familiar faces walk towards you as they suddenly stop in the middle of your phone screen. Both fighter turn at the same time around, their almost dead eyes looking into yours, it feels like they are in the same room as you. What the hell?! This shit is fucking creepy... immediately you try to close the app, you keep pressing the cross but nothing happens. The eyes of the two fighters continue to penetrate you and it seems like as if they were very angry.

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Suddenly, a message appears above Ohma's head.

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You are really a brat, you know that?! Always trying to fight against us, as if we are some monsters...

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Another message pops up but this time above Baki's head.

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We have tried it in a good way but you didn't care at all...

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.

.....

A huge message pops up above both their heads, as a small wicked smile spread their lips.

....

.....

...

. .....

Good for you that we found a way to break out of this game. You won't escape us any longer.

That is clearly been enough for you, your heart starts beating faster and faster and you couldn't trust your eyes what you actually read. What the fuck is this about?! This is crazy....You grab the phone as you throw it against the wall, you'd rather not have a phone anymore than play this fucking psycho game ever again!

Your thoughts are filled with the messages of the two characters, what do they mean when they wrote they've found a way to break out?! It doesn't make any sense at all!!! Baki and Ohma doesn't even exist... You are so distracted by your own thoughts that you only now notice a strange blue glow from your cell phone. Just as you're about to take a closer look, you suddenly see a fucking hand popping out.

What the fuck?!

This is clearly way to weird, what the hell is this?! Your thoughts are going crazy, your instinct is screaming at you to run! Run as fast as you can, and so you do. You run to your door as you only want to leave this damned apartment as quickly as possible. Your legs carry you and you immediately rush out of the floor towards the street. You don't know where you should run but it doesn't matter right now, the main thing is to get put of this place. You keep running and running, your (h/c) hair makes it impossible to see anything, the wind is to strong. But you need to run, you need to...

You want to cross the road, as you suddenly feel a very strong hand grab you, and pull you towards it. You feel yourself almost falling, but before you can feel the impact of the ground, you are grabbed again in a strong embrace. You slowly open your (e/c) eyes as you stare directly in another pair of brown eyes. The man before you has hazelnut brown, fluffy hair and a birthmark on his lips. You also couldn't ignore the muscles that adorn his body, even though he's wearing a T-shirt, he couldn't hide them. You body begins to tremble as you slowly realize who is standing in front of you. This can't be real...this isn't possible!!

A dark, raspy voice awakes you from your thoughts as another muscular, yet taller man appears behind Baki. This one has black, wavy hair and black eyes. "You don't really make it easy, do you?" Ohmas gaze rests on you like that of a beast. You try to free yourself from the much to strong grip, something what you never believed to be possible, but it was useless. The Hanma seems to he very amused by the sight. "Don't try it (Y/n). You know you have no chance."

Of course you know that you didn't have the slightest chance against even one if this two monsters, Ohma and Baki are superior to you in every way. But your pride can't let that happen! Surely your 14 year old fanfiction fan would have died that these two are standing infront of you, but this isn't a stupid fanfictiin. This is the cruel reality and the reality is that you get captured by two fictional characters just like that. "Let me go!" You stutter out, doing you best to sound as strong as possible.

Ohma tilts his head to the side with a big, almost sadistic smile on bis face. "And what if not? Will you try to fight us then?" You can't miss the mocking tone, but something inside you knows that he is right. You can't fight them... Suddenly you notice how one of Bakis hand grabs your chin, forces you to look at him. "You're ours now, don't try to make us ever angry again. You know what will happen if you do." Full of fear, you nod to his kind yet threatening words as your last hope is slowly fading away. Maybe you should have listened to your instinct...

[userautumn]

Tommy stares down at his phone. If he were a better man he would delete the message and pretend he didn't see it, for both their sakes.

No. That's not right.

If he were a better man, a message like this wouldn't even be necessary. They would be spending the holiday together like they planned, curled up on the sofa like two parentheses watching movies before heading over to the Grant-Nashes for dinner. It's the kind of perfect world fantasy that always used to give him hope when he was a child, lonely and bruised and high off a concoction of drugs he almost hoped would kill him. But he's older now, and that fantasy is still just a fantasy.

He starts to type:

Thank you for teaching me what it felt like to be loved. I'm sorry I wasn't enough.

I miss you and I'm sorry.

Happy Thanksgiving.

He deletes them all and turns his phone off for a handful of seconds before impulsively turning it back on again. He brings up his and Buck's text thread and, before he can think better of it, texts back:

❤️

He doesn't know what it means. Doesn't even know what he wants it to mean, but the thought of not sending anything in response makes him sicker than thought of just sending a stupid fucking emoji.

He waits for a response, nauseous like he was the day after their first failed date, and then decides he's being kind of a teenager about the whole thing. But before he can turn his phone off again, it vibrates in his hand. He hesitates before unlocking his screen, unsure if he even wants to read the message. Is he playing with Buck's feelings by sending him a heart? Is he playing with his own feelings? Buck was just trying to be nice, he might have already moved on (and doesn't that make him dizzy to contemplate), and here Tommy is sending him hearts out of the fucking blue —

He opens the message... and laughs.

🦃❤️🦃😭 🍽️👎🏻

(Translation: What if I was a turkey and you were a turkey and we were two turkeys who were sad and miserable on Thanksgiving)

Tommy's throat tightens as he presses dial on Buck's number, laughter warring with grief warring with fondness. Evan answers on the first ring.

Tommy clears his throat. "You know what I think?"

"Tell me."

"I think..." He takes a deep breath, bracing himself for what he's only just discovered he's going to say. "I think we should call a truce. One day only. You, me, a couple movies, and definitely not talking about our complicated turkey feelings. How does that sound?"

Buck hums. "Sounds good, one on condition."

Tommy freezes. He waits for the rejection and hopes the fear doesn't come across in his voice. "What's that?"

"You help me eat the embarrassing amount of desserts I've made while trying not to call you."

"How many?"

"Including the ones I've given away? About thirty-ish."

There's a lot to unpack there, way too much for one impulsive conversation. Tommy nods even though Buck can't see him.

"Well, hey, you throw in a carrot cake and you have a deal."

"Tommy," Buck says seriously. "I have three carrot cakes."

Tommy grins, despite himself. Warning bells go off in his brain and he ignores every single one of them. "Careful, Buckley, or this truce might end up being more than one night."

"Might not be the worst thing."

Tommy swallows. His grin slides off his face as he looks around his empty home. It looks lifeless and hollow, a cold mausoleum where all his hopes went to die. For the first time since the breakup, he allows himself to remember what his home looked like, what it felt like when it was filled with his boyfriend, when it was filled with love. How safe and warm it was, and how it could feel again.

"No," Tommy says softly, and he swears even across the distance of the phone, he can feel some of that warmth even now. "Might not be the worst thing."

living in a world where buck decides holidays don’t count and texts tommy a sweet and earnest, “even though i wish we had more, i’m thankful for the time we did get together. happy thanksgiving tommy.”

[64rd]

Hats FUCKING off to you, holy shit.

what can I say. modern software development is HELL to the point I achieved complete burnout in record time of two years

[cerbreus]

boutta start ordering rocks online again just to feel alive

[keeps-ache]

I AM SPEED

[bucketofbugz]

time to go to sleep and make it only FOUR more days until episode 16!! yippee!!!!!

unfortunately. the added burden of School for those 4 days. mhm. also a group project. mhmmm. this is gonna suckkkkkk

[fmhobeus]

so, nerdy loser college boy choso *sighs* *opens legs*

a/n: just so you know, this man is gonna make you do all the hard work for a piece of that loser boy dick 😮‍💨 so... um so at some point around 2000 words in i realised this is way more than a hc post :3 eat it up if you will!

nerdy!choso who borderline has no friends except his gaming buddies who doesnt meet irl like ever. he doesnt like going to classes, especially this one. he doesnt need it but it's a requirement for all first years. and boy is glad it is when he sees you come in.

nerdy!choso who only listens to discussions when you're talking. suddenly he needs to put down his headphones and nod at every word you're saying. his eyes follow every gesture of your hand, every sway of your ass, every single time you fix your hair.

nerdy!choso who is starting to get a bit enamored with you, your style, your way of speaking. he loses track of time gawking at you in class from the last benches as you prettily do all the work in the class. he hates how beautifully your hair falls on your face, how nicely your clothes fit you despite being pretty modest for college. he hates how he can see the silhouette of your tits when you turn to the side. but he's too much of a gentleman to keep looking.

nerdy!choso who ends a game early when he remembers you, lying and saying that he had promised someone to meet them somewhere. the place is his bathroom and the person was you. god, you really shouldn't wear those tight jeans to class y'know? how will he continue to be a gentleman if you do?

nerdy!choso who despises groupwork but prays to dear god this class has some reason to pair you two together. he's getting so desperate to talk to you knowing damn well he too pussy to do it on his own. and the lord answers his prayers, the teacher assigns groups of three for a presentation. it's you, him and some slacking trust fund baby.

nerdy!choso who is about to combust and have a full blown panic attack when he sees you approach him after class with that smile on your face that would make the angels swoon. you're going on about distributing the work equally and what not while he is trying his fucking hardest to not accidently make eye contact with you and piss his pants : (

nerdy!choso who now has your name, your number and your email and he feels like the happiest man on earth. his hands are literally shaking as he responds to your request to call. he's overthinking every word he types.

choso: yeah i can do wednesday. choso: i'll be okay with whatever day you want.

nerdy!choso who hops on video call and short circuits with a view of you in an oversized band tee and a brief view of your room. why did you have to be this pretty? why did you have to video call him when you couldve done the work on text? why did you have to put your hair up like that? why oh why did you have you say "choso? hey, you there?" so seductively to bring him back to the present?

nerdy!choso who gets like no work done in a 30 minute call which felt like three hours. he knew he would hardly be paying attention so decided to record the call with your consent, saying he'd need the notes you were typing out on screen only to play it back and stroke his dick to you for what might've have been the twentieth time this week. his strokes only getting faster as you say his name in that voice he imagines sounds way better moaning and screaming it instead.

nerdy!choso who, after the presentation, is on greeting terms with you when he sees you studying in the library. he sits as far away from you as he can while still being able to see you. occupying the coziest corner of the library to stare at you study right when you come up to him.

"can i join you, choso? i'm all alone and your space seems comfy" you say with a smile, "of course, i dont mean to disturb you, is saw you were on your own too, so..."

uh oh, uh oh, uh oh. god no. please no. please dont say yes. please dont be staring at her like some dumb idiot (too late) please.

"uh... yeah sure why not?" he awkwardly says as he makes room for you to keep your things. he was such an idiot for thinking he could say no to your pretty face in the first place.

nerdy!choso who is absolutely drunk on your scent. it feels way better than any alcohol he's ever had. he feels like an animal in heat when he smells your sugary perfume mixed with the styrofoam-y air conditioned smell of the library. you're gonna kill him, yknow? how is he supposed to respond to this? what is one to do when their stupid college crush sits next to them? he gives you a half smile before furiously typing away on reddit, the only place with answers for losers like him.

nerdy!choso whose hands. oh his hands. (can be i a big whore for a second?) his long hands that feel like they're the size of your face. his kempt, beautiful and trimmed nails. his lengthy fingers that seem to yearn for something more to foddle with than just the keyboard or controller. he typed as such an insane pace it made your pussy ache. he was going so fast, jesus. those hands were meant to do more than just ask "how to talk to girls" on reddit.

nerdy!choso who (on the advice of reddit) asks if you would want him to order something for you. you tell you had a frappuccino not too long ago and that it was quite sweet and filling. and he hates himself for thinking that he could give you something much sweeter and filling than that like a horny fourteen year old.

nerdy!choso who is now determined to not come off as a creep so he does his work with the focus of four adderalls. he is typing as fast as his heartbeat, not realising he got two classes worth of work done in just an hour. he looks over at you, blissfully unaware of the absolute war in his mind.

nerdy!choso who feels as though if he doesn't muster up the courage to ask you out right then and there, he'll probably be the biggest loser on the planet. (as if he wasn't already)

nerdy! pathetic! choso who stutters a million times and barely gets the job done then too. his eyes are scanning your entire being (trying his best to not gawk at your tits) for any sign of discomfort.

"so- uhh so ummm... wo-would you, like, uh... like to do this again? sometime?... i got a.. a lot of work done today, so.."

oh heavens, the sheer nervousness in his tone makes you want to pull his pants down and show him how to really get work done.

you agree with a smile, even suggesting a better, more ambient (more romantic) cafe to study in. choso's heart is about to burst and flood the fucking library with his blood the way it is beating at an alarming rate.

"umm yeah uh 5 sounds... awesome... i hope it isn't a-a bother to you?" "no way, choso. i loved today," you offer him a smile as you gather your things, "i really like your hair, by the way" "i like your hair too, y-y-you smell very nice", he gulps.

fuck. why did he say that? what? you smell nice? who says that? is he like ten? you can't help but giggle at the sheer embarassment on his face.

he feels as though he's gonna melt into a puddle and turn to stone and throw up all at the same time.

nerdy!choso who is the most stupidly hot guy you've ever met, you think as you go giggling back to your dorm. mental note: pick a skimpy outfit for 5pm ;)

[louisa-gc]

how to start reading again

from someone who was a voracious reader until high school and is now getting back into it in her twenties.

start with an old favourite. even though it felt a little silly, i re-read the harry potter series one christmas and it wiped away my worry that i wasn't capable of reading anymore. they are long books, but i was still able to get completely immersed and to read just as fast as i had years and years ago.

don't be afraid of "easier" books. before high school i was reading the french existentialists, but when getting back into reading, i picked up lucinda riley and sally rooney. not my favourite authors by far, but easier to read while not being totally terrible. i needed to remind myself that only choosing classics would not make me a better or smarter person. if a book requires a slower pace of reading to be understood, it's easier to just drop it, which is exactly what i wanted to avoid at first.

go for essays and short stories. no need to explain this one: the shorter the whole, the less daunting it is. i definitely avoided all books over 350 pages at first and stuck to essay collections until i suddenly devoured donna tartt's goldfinch.

remember it's okay not to finish. i was one of those people who finished every book they started, but not anymore! if i pick up a book at the library and after a few chapters realise i'd rather not read it, i just return it. (another good reason to use your local library! no money spent on books you might end up disliking.)

analyse — or don't. some people enjoy reading more when they take notes or really stop to think about the contents. for me, at first, it was more important to build the habit of reading, and the thought of analysing what i read felt daunting. once i let go of that expectation, i realised i naturally analyse and process what i read anyway.

read when you would usually use your phone. just as i did when i was a child, i try to read when eating, in the bathroom, on public transport, right before sleeping. i even read when i walk, because that's normally a time i stare at my screen anyway. those few pages you read when you brush your teeth and wait for a friend very quickly stack up.

finish the chapter. if you have time, try to finish the part you're reading before closing the book. usually i find i actually don't want to stop reading once i get to the end of a chapter — and if i do, it feels like a good place to pick up again later.

try different languages. i was quickly approaching a reading slump towards the end of my exchange year, until i realised i had only had access to books in english and that, despite my fluency, i was tired of the language. so as soon as i got back home i started picking up books in my native tongue, which made reading feel much easier and more fun again! after some nine months, i'm starting to read in english again without it feeling like a huge task.

forget what's popular. i thought social media would be a fun way to find interesting books to read, but i quickly grew frustrated after hating every single book i picked up on some influencer's recommendation. it's certainly more time-consuming to find new books on your own, but this way i don't despise every novel i pick up.

remember it isn't about quantity. the online book community's endless posts about reading 150 books each year or 6 books in a single day easily make us feel like we're slow, bad readers, but here's the thing: it does not matter at all how many books you read or what your reading pace is. we all lead different lives, just be proud of yourself for reading at all!

stop stressing about it. we all know why reading is important, and since the pandemic reading has become an even more popular hobby than it was before (which is wonderful!). however, there's no need to force yourself to be "a reader". pick up a book every now and then and keep reading if you enjoy it, but not reading regularly doesn't make you any less of a good person. i find the pressure to become "a person who reads" or to rediscover my inner bookworm only distances me from the very act of reading.

[amaramizuki666]

I have been pulled from the depths of my hibernation by this post. And now y'all should know my drill. I'm making this DP x DC baby.

Anyway

_________

Tim opened his door to see what looked to be a underweight preteen. The boy looked to be the personification of a wet cat. "Do you need something kid?" Tim's asks and leans aginst the door frame. Tim raked his eyes across the kid, he had ice blue eyes and black hair 'he looks like adoption bait'.

"I know what you are" the kid says. Tim raises a brow 'is this kid with the paparazzi or something?'. Tim tilts his head and tired smile on his lips "oh, Do you now?".

The kid with an all to serious expression lifts up a photo... of him.... as Red Robin climbing into his apartments window 'well fuck'.

Tim grabbed the kid by the wrist and pulled him into his apartment "so what do you want?" Tim asks cearfully, grabbing his coffee mug and nursing it as he stared the kid down.

Tim dosnt want to come off as threatening, but he won't just let the bratt expose him. "So you are Red Robin?" The kid says, not in a way that makes him seem unsure of himself, but like in the way he wants to hear it from Tim's lips.

"You can't prove it" Tim says calmly sipping his coffee. Tim knows he basically just conformed it, but he could tell the kid already knew.

The little shit gave Tim a wide smirk and pulled a manila folder, out of... somewhere? And hands it to him. Tim takes it, sets down his coffee, and opens it. Inside are a few dozen pictures of Tim, some were his mask is off while he is still in suite.

"Ok you got me, so what do you want?" Tim says slightly impressed, he is getting flashbacks to his younger years of chasing Batman and Robin with his camera.

"I'm going to be your sidekick" The kid says firmly. Tim's jaw drops. It feels like he is blue-screening. 'Is this how Bruce felt?' "Ok" The word left Tim's lips before he even relized.

The kid stuck out his hand "it's a pleasure doing business with you, I'm danny". 'You know what fuck it, this is my kid now' Tim smirked tiredly, taking Danny's hand (his ice cold hand) in a firmly grip "Guess we need to pick out a name for your then".

Danny's grin grows showing too many teeth "i already have one, is go by Phantom"

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

I also think this would be hilarious if danny is actually older than Tim but is stuck as a sad meow meow because he stopped aging after he died, and ge saw Red Robin, practically on his own and most of the support he was receiving was from other teens, and deciding, no, no kid should be without adult support.

Danny wished he had someone to watch his Back besides his freinds and sister, sure they helped a lot, but he feels he would have been better off with an adult mentor (shut up vald you were never his mentor, just a creepy fruitloop).

And if Red Robin thinks he's a kid, all the better, it should make him less reckless if he thinks he has a kid to watch out for.

[logaenhowlett]

SOMETHING HAPPENS AND I'M HEAD OVER HEELS - L.H.

Summary: What starts off as a simple favour to watch Laura’s cat sends Logan into a spiral as you continue to make your way into his life.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff - Logan is 100% whipped, Wade

A/N: 4.4k - my longest fic yet! Worst!Logan has my entire soul, I'd give anything just for that pretty smile. Title creds to Tears For Fears. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The familiar burn of whiskey stings the back of his throat. Logan rests his head against the couch, second-guessing his decision to babysit Laura's cat while she's enjoying her night out. Her tireless attempts of pestering him at last working in her favour so he can finally meet his 'copy-kitten' - her words.

A quick glance at the time reveals he should probably head out now. Logan rises, groaning as his muscles protest after weeks of just slumping around the apartment. Even Al had pointed out how lazy he'd become lately. And that unsolicited observation gave him half the mind to consider finding new roommates. But who was he kidding? As much as he also barely tolerated that one incredibly maddening little prick's incessant jibber-jabber, he wasn't going to find anything for what he's currently paying.

Soon enough, he weaves his way through the crowds, swerving past the shoulders of, frankly, one too many people absorbed by their devices to step aside for his large frame. Luckily, Laura's place isn't too far and he really appreciates that detail as the sound of thunder rumbles overhead. A faint ding emerges from his pocket and he retrieves his phone, reading the screen with a slight squint.

His boots soak the welcome mat as he fumbles with the door trim, locating the key according to Laura's text - making a mental note to remind her of personal safety later. Shivering, he shrugs the wet jacket off, tossing it over the armchair. His eyes dart around the room, looking for the damn cat, and for a moment, Logan wonders whether he's being pranked.

The pitter-patter of paws against the hardwood floor has him snapping his head to the little creature in question. The cat, or Leopold Alexis Elijah Walker Thomas Gareth Mountbatten - Leo, for short - he learns begrudgingly after Wade shoved pictures upon pictures to his face one particular day, stares at him with indifference.

Understanding the need to be left alone, Logan trudges towards the kitchen, swinging the fridge open. A small post-it stuck over a box of leftovers, reads "Knew you'd be hungry", has him scoffing, mildly amused that Laura had predicted his actions.

Minutes later, he sinks onto the couch, making brief eye contact with Leo, who's nonchalantly licking his paws. He's halfway through the bowl of pasta when the cat suddenly leaps onto the cushion next to him. Logan watches curiously, he's not terribly experienced around pets, hardly spending any time with Mary Puppins herself despite living under the same roof.

"Alright, here's the deal." He murmurs, "You stay outta my way and I stay outta yours."

Leo replies with a meow to which Logan nods, satisfied by the response. He hopes to god this cat has the same temperament as Dogpool and allows him to simply coexist till Laura returns. Intrigued by the smell, Leo slowly inches forward, gently nudging his head against the bowl.

"Don't think you can eat this, bub."

Leo seems to understand the implication and meows in defiance. With a sigh, Logan gingerly flexes his hand, stroking the cat's head. The act immediately has Leo purring in content, the desire to investigate the food long forgotten. And no one's there to witness the ghost of a smile that teases his lips.

The calm attitude only lasts an hour before Logan's biting back a string of profanities, frustrated by Leo's refusal to take his medication. He's thankful for his healing factor, for otherwise, he'd be covered in a litter of scars. How the hell Laura deals with this devil-of-a-cat is beyond comprehension.

There's no use in trying again. Leo clearly wants nothing to do with him or what he's hiding in his hand. The thought of seeking help crosses his mind, perhaps one of the neighbours is especially skilled in feeding pills to literal hellspawns. Logan tunes his hearing to the apartments on the floor. Old lady already asleep to her TV - no. A family of six attempting to eat dinner in peace - no. Two people about to - fuck no. Now he really wants a word with Laura about her living situation.

Just when he's about to give up, a recognisable melody reaches his ears - one he's unwilling heard Wade jam out to in the shower. This person swaying along to music seems far more approachable than anyone else in this building, and so he steps out, knocking on the apartment across from Laura's.

The door cracks open slightly, you peek your head out giving him a questioning look, “Um… hi? Can I help you?”

“Hey, sorry to bother you. But, uh… I’m watching Laura’s - your neighbour’s cat.” Embarrassment creeps into his cheeks as he points behind him, “He’s not takin’ his meds and uh do you… can you help me? Please?”

The look of absolute defeat paired with the remnants of red scratch marks on his arms has your heart clenching for this poor man, “Of course.”

When the door fully opens, Logan’s eyes widen reflexively at the state of your undress. There’s nothing evocative about it, yet he feels as though he’s intruding on an intimate side of you. One he’s definitely not privy to.

Your sheepish smile sends a wave of something indescribable through his body. He clears his throat, turning on his heel to lead you inside. Leo flicks his head up at the sound of footsteps, purring as if he hasn’t been driving Logan insane for the past hour.

You knew Laura had rescued the little guy a while ago, having run into her in the hallway the night she brought him home. Every interaction you’ve had presents him as the sweetest kitten in the world, so watching the distinct mark of dread on this stranger’s face has you stifling a laugh.

“What?” Logan asks, feeling a little self-conscious about the whole situation.

“Nothing. It’s just - Leo’s very friendly. Or at least, I thought so… what the hell did you do to piss him off?” You chuckle, kneeling a foot away.

“Piss him off? I was just tryin’ to give him the damn pills. Had no problem with me before that.” Logan’s fingers twitch as you approach the cat, wanting to protect you from the sharp claws the demon would surely attack you with.

Yet, to his astonishment, Leo innocently crawls into your outstretched arms. And Logan swears he saw a flicker of mockery come across the cat’s eyes as he peers at him, relishing your comforting embrace.

“See? He’s a sweetheart.”

The fondness in your tone almost has him believing your words. In no time, Leo’s fully cooperating with your gentle requests, happily taking the medication as if it’s the tastiest thing in the world.

Logan learns three things that night. One, your name. Two, that you have some innate ability to charm everyone around you - human or otherwise. Three, he absolutely couldn’t wait to see you again.

Logan tries to drain out the shouting match between his two roommates, ducking calmly as Al’s miscalculated spatula throw flies in his direction. Laura giggles next to him, entertained by the whole ordeal - Wade had accidentally left his cock ring plugged in the bathroom again, nearly short-circuiting the apartment.

“Hey! Kink shaming is very frowned upon, Althea.”

“You motherfucker! I almost got electrocuted by the toaster this morning!”

Logan grumbles to himself, knowing there’ll never be a quiet, normal day in this household. He turns to Laura, “Kid, you wanna grab some food later?”

“Can’t. I’m going out.”

He nods, not giving it a second thought. But as the memory of you flashes across his mind, he stops bouncing his leg, heart beating a little faster. It had been a whopping seven days since that interaction, yet every little detail has stuck with him since. In fact, he spent many hours pacing in his room planning some way to magically run into you.

“… What about the cat?” He asks, and when she raises her eyebrow, “Who’s watchin’ him?”

She replies with a shrug, “I’ll figure it out.”

The solution to his problem falls perfectly onto his lap. Oh, how his pulse quickens at the thought. And as if to not seem suspiciously enthusiastic, he pauses before speaking, “I can do it.” 

“Why?”

“Better than this shit.”

Laura considers him for a moment then agrees casually - she knows exactly why he offered. You had bumped into her a couple of days ago, offhandedly mentioning meeting Logan that night as you recounted the details of your week. It took mere seconds to put two and two together and realise he was incredibly smitten.

Logan spends a good fifteen minutes messing with his hair. Fuck, did it always spike up like that? The one tiny mirror in his room supposedly taunting him with each look over. A low tsk breaks the flood of self-criticism as he slams the door shut behind him, roughly brushing past Wade.

"Ooh, is that cologne I smell or are you just horny to see me?"

His teasing spirit immediately drops when Logan shoots him a glare, precisely throwing Al's spatula straight at his crotch.

"God - not the home office, peanut! Jim and Pam need protection!"

The walk to Laura's seems a lot shorter this time, some sort of nervous, giddy energy surging through his chest with each step. Logan bites the insides of his cheeks, feeling childish by the stupid smile daring to grace his lips just at the sheer thought of you. He can't remember the last time someone had drawn these kind of emotions from him. A part of him wants to cower in fear of rejection and self-doubt, and other? Oh, it's got your name written all over.

As soon as he reaches the hallway, all his senses are directed to your apartment. Confused by the silence he finds instead, Logan strains his hearing harder than ever. Hm, it's barely seven-thirty, maybe you're not home yet? Disappointment twirls around his mind, he sighs before opening Laura's door, convincing himself it's probably for the better.

To his surprise, Leo behaves quite well this time around - eating his food, taking his medication, and sticking with minimal efforts to annoy him. The black and white movie he randomly chose keeps his thoughts from drifting to you for the most part, though he can't help but wonder where you are at - he checks his watch - 10:38 pm on a Thursday?

Whatever hope he held onto paints him a fool as time slips by. He couldn't blame you, you didn't owe him anything. Logan runs a hand down his face, and despite his wavering relationship with Leo, he's at least grateful for the cat's company on this rather lonely night.

"Was a dumb idea, huh?" He mumbles, gently scratching Leo's ear.

Not ten minutes later, the jingle of something hitting the floor has him sitting up, intrigued. Logan pads over to look through the peephole, his heart fluttering at the sight of you. It doesn't take a genius to note your drunken state with the way you're cursing and fumbling with the keys. His hand rests against the doorknob, a flash of hesitation creeping in. Do you even want to see him right now?

Before he can psych himself out, his instincts make the decision for him. Logan's unsure of how to announce his presence, wanting to avoid any chances of scaring you. In hindsight, that task should’ve been deemed impossible when you flinch suddenly anyway.

"Logan! Shit - did I wake you up?"

He chuckles at that and before he can even respond, you fire off another question, "Wait, what're you doing here?"

"Laura's out. I'm on babysitting duty." Leo purrs from somewhere behind him in confirmation. Logan watches as you nod slowly, the keys once again sliding from your grasp, "Here, let me help you."

The two of you reach down, fingertips barely grazing as he reacts faster than you. He realises he's much closer than he anticipated when your perfume crowds his senses. Logan buries the urge to meet your eyes deep, deep down, instead unlocking the door with a clenched jaw.

He's very appreciative of the fact that you're too out of it to observe his actions. He wanders into the kitchen to fetch some water, a laugh nearly spilling out of him as you collapse onto the couch, "Hey, easy."

"I'm not that drunk."

"I believe you." He lifts the glass to your lips, words ever so soft, "But... how about we get you to bed hm? Doesn't that sound better than this couch?" When you blink at him tiredly, Logan knows it's so over for him - every shred of denial he held within now shattered by your very hands.

"Okay... "

He maintains some distance, assuming you'd stubbornly dismiss his attempts to guide you to the bedroom. Leaning by the doorframe, he doesn't try to hide the fondness in his expression as you settle under the covers.

"Night, Logan."

He hears you murmur beneath the blanket. It's almost natural how quickly he replies as if you've had this exchange hundreds of times before, "Good night, sweetheart."

A groan leaves you as the sunlight eventually breaches the comfort of your dark room. Rubbing your eyes, you blindly reach for the bedside table, hoping to find your phone. Instead, your hand retrieves a piece of paper while knocking over a bottle of Advil that definitely wasn't there earlier.

'Not that drunk' my ass. - L

The party hat lays tilted on his head. Logan hooks his finger onto the string, momentarily stopping it from cutting into his chin. On any other occasion, he wouldn't have been caught dead wearing the stupid thing, but it was Laura's birthday and once she pulled out the dangerous puppy eyes, there was no way he could refuse without being an asshole.

He's been leaning against the wall, thumb lightly tracing the rim of the beer bottle in his hand as he blankly stares around the room. Throughout the night, Logan's eyes impulsively shift in your direction, tuning into the conversations you're having with - what feels like - everyone but him.

Mary Puppins zooms by, stepping on his boots in the process. She must've caught a whiff of whatever Al's cooking. He bends down to pick up the stuffed Wolverine chew toy she dropped along the way, mildly concerned by the amount of slobber coating it.

"Nice hat."

Logan hears you chuckle behind him. He quickly turns around, tossing the toy somewhere far, far away before you could notice. And despite wishing all night for the opportunity to talk to you, he finds himself tongue-tied now that you're actually in front of him, awaiting his response with an amused expression. Get it together, dumbass.

"This thing? Well... it made the kid happy." He says, incapable of suppressing the smile that never fails to make an appearance whenever you're around.

The way your features soften releases a storm of arrows to his poor, old heart. Whatever anxiety he felt earlier increases tenfold, Logan takes a swig of his drink only to realise it's empty. With nothing to divert his energy to, he grips the bottle tighter, hoping the integrity of the glass is enough to withstand the force of his nerves.

"Thank you, by the way."

His eyebrows raise in confusion, "For what?"

"Few weeks ago. When I got home totally wasted." As your cheeks turn a little red at the memory, Logan wants to relive that moment over and over again.

"Oh... yeah." He huffs lightly, gaining a smidge of confidence from your flustered state. It gives him just enough courage to throw in a cheeky comment, "At your service."

He's mighty pleased when you giggle, biting his lip to control the proud smile aching to take over. Logan studies you briefly, and if he didn't know any better, you almost seemed nervous too? That possibility sends his mind reeling in excitement. Perhaps you also feel something here?

The shrieking sound of a party blower has him wincing, the plastic hits his cheek as Wade sneaks up right next to him with a wide grin, "Sugar bear! Don't mind me, I overheard you tell Yukio about your date tomorrow. Now, spill. Who is this mystery man and does he have a twin by any chance? Brother or sister - daddy's not picky."

Logan's initial reaction to harshly shove the man aside dies in an instant when you laugh rather bashfully at the question. He prays to god it's another one of Wade's fucking jokes. However, that hope flies out the window as you hesitantly ramble on about this guy. Excusing himself, he leaves the apartment, ripping the party hat off in agony - not witnessing the guilt eclipsing your emotions.

Droplets of sweat linger at the ends of his hair as he places the last of Laura's cardboard boxes on the floor of her new apartment. After weeks of mulling it over, she decided to move a little further away, complaining about how rent was becoming too crazy. Logan offered to support her financially till she was good on her own, yet she strongly refused just as he expected.

Since she was no longer your neighbour, the chances of running into you dwindled over time. He saw you in passing last month when he came over to help Laura with apartment hunting. The logical part of his brain convinced him to not stick around, desperately clinging to the idea that you're not interested. But catching your expression fall as he dismissed your presence nearly made him run back to wrangle you into his arms, to whisper apologies and beg for forgiveness.

After an especially tiring day, Logan returns home, crashing onto the couch with a sort of emptiness as he stares at the ceiling. Both his roommates are muttering in the corner, afraid to call out his incredibly irritable mood of late - instead, walking on eggshells whenever he's around. It seems that Wade loses the hushed argument, settling a good arm's length away from him.

"Peanut." He drags, slowly, "Al and I are... worried about you. As much as this brooding, tough guy act is really doing wonders for my sexual wellbeing, I just can't let you Debbie-Down-Pour all over this parade."

"The fuck you want me to do?"

"You need a one-way ticket to pound town-" He chirps, and when Logan grunts angrily, Wade shrieks, shielding himself from any incoming attacks, "Don't hurt me!"

The aroma of coffee tingles his senses as he takes an exaggerated sip, ignoring the need to continue such an aimless, one-sided conversation. Across the table is one of Vanessa's acquaintances, Karen or Kira - he can't remember - mindlessly explaining why her previous dates didn't work out. Logan forces a nod here and there, humming in pretend acknowledgement while he concocts some plan to seriously bash Wade's head against the nearest wall.

In all honesty, he didn't know how the hell that bastard persuaded him to entertain this woman for the night, making a note to check his alcohol for any suspicious substances later. What he did know was that this was going as terribly as he thought. And while he might be awfully rusty in terms of dating, Logan's certainly not oblivious to basic body language cues. Deciding twenty minutes of this torture is enough, she hastily rushes out the building and that's the last of Karen he ever sees.

The grocery bags feel like cinder blocks in your hands as you walk down the street. Mentally scolding yourself for postponing this chore till the last minute, you huff in exhaustion, adjusting your grip every few seconds. A woman nearly bumps into you on her way out, you stagger backwards, watching her storm off. Startled by her rashness, you turn to glance at where she came from, gasping when you spot a familiar face.

“Logan?”

He snaps up, recognising that particular voice - your name leaves his lips softly. Mixed emotions swirl around his mind, yet, he can't help the way his heart jumps as you fill his senses, “Wha - what’re you doin' here?”

“I was just passing by... saw you through the window.” Your gaze drops to the half-finished cup of coffee opposite him, “Were you on a date?”

“Uh Wade - he...” Logan stutters for a moment, dumbfounded that you're even talking to him after his childish behaviour the last few weeks. He nods lightly as the unmistakable bullet of regret pierces his insides.

“It’s her loss anyway.”

God, he wants to apologise so badly. Your friendly attitude only serves to make him feel worse, but Logan thanks his lucky stars that you don't hate him. He definitely wouldn't have been able to handle any sign of resentment on your part - no matter how much he deserves it.

“What’s with the eggs?”

You laugh, looking down at the several cartons peeking through your bags, “I’m stress-baking.”

He's so lost in your eyes that it takes him a second to register your reply, nose scrunching in amusement, “Stress-baking?”

“Yes, it’s a perfectly valid activity.”

That draws a chuckle out of him. He raises his hands in defense, “I ain’t judgin’, doll.”

A comfortable silence takes over and Logan realises just how happy he is to see you again - how much he's missed you all this time. He opens his mouth to spill something out of pure impulse when you beat him to the punch.

“Why don’t you join me?”

It doesn't take much convincing and he's already fallen into a steady pace as you walk together - his fingers effortlessly hooking onto all the grocery bags. His chest threatens to explode when you lean towards him, moving aside for people brushing by. Logan wills his entire strength to not drape his arm across your shoulders in an effort to keep you safe.

Time becomes irrelevant when you're around. The frequency of his own laughter shocks him at first, but he's not really thrown off by the joy you bring out of him because - well, of course, you do. It's safe to say that Logan can't bake to save his life, though he doesn't mind this particular weakness as you giggle at his dreadful attempts to mix the cookie dough. Shamelessly, he watches you come closer, breaking into a tangent about proper kneading techniques - if you ask him to repeat any of it, he'd be stumbling over his words like a fool.

Eventually, he makes something that somewhat resembles your example. He dips his finger into the dough and lifts a small piece in your direction, "How's this?"

When you gently grasp his hand to lick the sweet mixture straight off, he thinks he's trapped in some wild daydream. Logan stares at you in surprise, cheeks turning into a telltale shade of red. Your hums of approval fall onto deaf ears as he remains frozen, wondering how you're so quick to move on from that bold gesture.

Every little thing you do stains his mind - from the way you dance around to soft music playing in the background, the way you focus all your attention on him whenever he speaks, even the way you warn him about the oven as if he could get burned.

His expression must've turned serious by how you suddenly pause, peering at him in concern. Bearing a rush of emotions, the words pour out of his mouth without hesitation, "I am so sorry."

"I was an idiot and I... avoided you 'cause I couldn't deal with these damn feelings-"

He stops.

He's revealed way too much. And judging by your face, that was definitely a mistake. Logan shuts his mouth, jaw hardening as he fights something heavy crawling up his throat. His eyes land on the door and all he wants is to escape from this shrinking room.

A whisper of his name fractures the glass cage he's built up around his heart. His boots seem to be cemented to the floor, unwilling to break free even as you still in front of him - a mere breath away. Your hands rest against his cheeks, slowly turning his head so he's compelled to meet your tender gaze.

Not a single sound slips out of him before your lips are on his. His heart pounds in his chest, burning at sensation. Logan leans into the kiss, hands settling on your waist, holding you as close as he can. Relief washes over him, he tilts his head slightly to deepen his movements - his breath nearly giving out when you whimper softly.

The loud ding from the oven has you pulling back with a faint chuckle. Logan smiles too, letting out a sigh as he lays his forehead against your shoulder. He presses his lips to your collarbone, whispering against your skin, "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"The cookies... or us?"

He gently pokes your side at that comment, mirroring your dazed look. Between the quiet exchanges of laughter, he knows exactly what this means - what you mean to each other.

His muscles feel looser with each stride, embracing the breeze tangling with the warmth pooling inside from your touch moments ago. Logan makes his way home with a kind of ease he hasn't felt in forever, chewing on a cookie you insisted he taste.

As he walks through the door, Wade rests his chin on his hands, “So… how did it go? I see you’re enjoying the post-bang baked goods.”

Logan rolls his eyes, not wanting his mood to be spoiled. He grumbles under his breath, your name accidentally slipping out.

"You ran into angel-reincarnate?" Wade gasps, "Oh. Finally putting that horse cock to good use." Clapping excitedly, he follows after Logan, "Wait a second, this fic is tagged fluff. There'll be no fucking on my watch, partner!"

Logan slams the door to his bedroom behind him, blocking out Wade's muffled chattering.

"She had you cosplay as Paul Hollywood all night? Goodness! The power she possesses. I must gain all her secrets."

"Fuck off."

Wade grins to himself, quickly pulling his phone out to shoot off a text.

Wade: Project-Wolvie-Gets-Pussy is a go!

Laura: We are NOT calling it that.

[ddejavvu]

Helloo!! Sooo I have a picture of mgg as my lock screen but his face isn’t in the picture and I was wonderinggg if you could write about the girls at the bau seeing your background of your phone and it’s some guy but they don’t know it’s spencer and they ask all these questions about this mysterious secret boyfriend you have and asking to meet him and r is just like maybeeee idk knowing that they have in fact met him and maybe spencer is near by and hearing all this and is just all shy and flustered. If you do write this THANK YOUUU you’re writing it phenomenal, one of a kind, it’s so good!!! <333

"Woah, hubba hubba," JJ's eyes bug out at your phone screen, and Emily, forever on JJ's wavelength, snatches it out of your hands before you can properly dim the screen.

"Who is that?" Emily asks everyone's burning question, and one of Penelope's hands squeezes yours, with nails, to emphasize her urgency.

Your lock screen is a picture of Spencer's bare chest clad only in a blazer, the front open in a lewd V that showcases the dark pink kiss marks you'd spread across the smattering of wiry curls he's grown. It's not something you'd meant to flash your coworkers with, and Spencer chokes on his water while Derek hoots and hollers at it.

"There are some things that should be kept private," Rossi drawls, eyes wide and haunted as he stands, "I'm going to get Aaron and myself another refill, just in case any worse pictures get shown around the table."

Hotch laughs at the older man, amusement lining his features handsomely as the group continues to tease you.

"So, when are you bringing this guy around? Not that we'd recognize him anyways, unless he showed up shirtless with lipstick all over him."

"Derek, you-" You barely stop yourself from saying, 'you have met him', instead swerving into an easy insult, "You're the last person I want to introduce him to. You'll never let us live this down."

"None of us will." Prentiss promises, her grin wolfish, "You'll be lucky if Garcia doesn't manage to track him down using nipple-recognition software."

Your technical analyst cackles into her drink, and Spencer makes a hasty getaway.

"I need the bathroom," He paws with burning cheeks at Derek's leg, ushering the man out of his way so that he can speed-walk to the bathroom. You watch him go, hearing Hotch let out a rare laugh at his urgency.

"Poor Spence," JJ croons, "Did you see how red his face was?"

"That kid's almost thirty and I bet he can't even say the word 'sex' without blushing." Derek scoffs.

"He can't. I've seen it." Garcia confirms, "It's pathetic."

"Pathetic," You snort, but what your team hears as agreement, you mean as contradiction. Spencer was nothing close to pathetic that night- sweet and tender, yes, but pathetic, no. He'd cupped your face while you'd spread a smattering of sticky kisses across his chest, and he'd stared into your eyes when you'd taken the picture, a smile on his face even though he'd known his grin wouldn't be in frame.

"Well get all of it out now," Hotch advises, a teasing tone in his voice, "Spencer won't come back if we're still talking about it."

"I'm happy for you." Dave states, setting his and Aaron's drinks down, "But so help me, Y/N, if I ever see your boyfriend's naked torso again, I'll kill myself."

You refrain from telling Rossi he had just seen your boyfriend's bare torso, last week when Spencer had needed to be stripped of his cold, wet clothes, and thrust into a heated blanket for warmth. No one had batted an eye at his brief nudity, and neither had you, because you'd memorized every inch of his skin. You didn't need to ogle him; you could recall his body from memory.

"I'll keep that in mind." You nod at Rossi sagely, "Just don't go through the rest of my camera roll." You see Spencer exit the bathroom, peering cautiously at your table to see if he can predict the conversation before returning, "Or you'll find a lot worse than his chest."

[honeydazai]

୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ sending them suggestive pictures while they're at work

feat.: Dazai, Chūya, Ranpo, Fukuzawa, Fyodor, Sigma

content: nsfw, female reader, spanking, sexting, oral sxx, masturbation, semi public

It's not unusual for DAZAI to tap away on his phone during work hours, so no one — except for Kunikida, who still hasn't given up on glaring — pays it any mind when his smirk widens at his screen. What remains a secret, however, is that he's not looking at some funny tweet but instead at your tits, the blue lace of your bra making for a pleasant contrast in colour.

He's awfully smug about the whole ordeal, really; also, who is he not to play along? He definitely sends you not only some appreciative words back, but also a picture of his own, featuring either his hands — he does know that you're quite fond of his fingers, after all —, his face — because you can never complain about that! —, or his by now half-hard dick, pressing against his trousers, even though taking soft nudes borders on workplace indecency. Oh, and your pictures are definitely saved and stored away on his phone for later usage.

[new message from Dazai] “someone's needy, harassing me during work hours! just kidding bella!! you're so cute xx stunning too! how am i supposed to listen to kunikida any longer when you're so so pretty? :( ill call out sick, be there in 20 x”

CHŪYA really doesn't expect to see anything but a picture of a dog you saw outside or of a particularly pretty flower when he spares a brief glance at his phone during a Port Mafia meeting. It's already disrespectful, though he doesn't plan on anyone noticing the miniscule action — that is, until he all but chokes on his coffee at the photo of you, legs spread wide, two fingers deep inside of yourself, wearing not only his favourite lingerie set, but also one of his ties.

He tries hard to ignore the way everyone stares at him when he, all too abruptly, excuses himself to the bathroom, his face bright red. In the safety of a stall, he really can't do anything but shove his trousers to his knees, one hand immediately closing around his dick while he types your number into his phone with his free one — and while he might snap at you, oh so flustered, he's also so damn turned on that he can barely focus on anything but the sound of your voice and your photo.

“Fucking Hell, babe—, God, with how Mori was looking at me, I bet he knew what was up. Fuck—, send me another one, please, I'm so damn close, ah—”

Business meetings aren't RANPO'S favourite way to spend time. They're awfully boring, making him huff and sigh when he has to sit through them — though this one gets a lot more interesting the moment he clicks on a text message from you. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of your panties, pure lace and hiding not even the slightest bit just how wet you are, thighs glistening, though that's about all the physical reaction he's going to show. The fact that his dick strains against his trousers is no one's business.

He is, however, quick to text you back, amusement dripping from his messages, and if Fukuzawa wasn't already watching him with sharp eyes, he'd sneak away to the bathroom to call you. For now, you'll just have to do with sexting — this meeting is going to go on for a while, especially if he won't soon start contributing, and he's unfortunately got better things to do.

[new message from Ranpo] “having fun without me? youre so mean. at least send me more pics im dyin g here... maybw bend over or— ooo i know, we bought that toy a while ago, right? why don't you use that one for me, doll....”

FUKUZAWA sucks in a sharp breath the second his eyes fall onto your form clad in nothing but one of his yukatas, and even though he attempts to remain calm, he's already blushing, arousal churning low in his stomach. Really, he was just trying to take a miniscule break from all the paperwork he's facing — besides, the cat ringtone signaling your message did sound rather urgent! —, though now he's not certain whether he can focus on it again.

He ends up typing “This is most inappropriate.” in response, though he never sends it, instead replacing it with a “You look stunning.”, only to never send that one either. In the end, he just quits work a little earlier that day and hurries home faster than he'd ever want to admit, cheeks still flushed with arousal when he joins you in bed, immediately slotting himself between your pretty thighs, long fingers spreading your folds apart and into your cunt to prepare you — only to realise you've long done that yourself. How convenient. He might reprimand you a little afterwards, though both of you realise it's not to be taken seriously. When he's honest with himself, he rather liked that photo — and he'll definitely keep it.

“That was awfully inappropriate. Darling, you know I enjoy getting to hear from you during the day, and yet — what? I didn't mind you wearing my clothing in the slightest. I was worried about someone from the Agency seeing the picture. In fact, wear my clothes again whenever you feel like it. Please do. You looked quite irresistible.”

It's almost unfair just how seemingly unbothered FYODOR is. When checking his phone during a Decay of Angels meeting, aware that you know not to contact him except for important reasons, he merely glances at the photo lewdly depicting your raised skirt and the curve of your behind before putting it back into his pocket. Really, it's downright adorable that you're attempting to tease him — you should know better by now, darling.

While he doesn't bother with a response, he certainly makes sure to pay attention to you when he returns home. And, oh, the next time you want to toy with him, he sure hopes you remember this very moment, of you bent across his lap, his hand coming down ever so often on your butt, on the soft skin of your upper thighs, making you cry out with every slap. The marks, at least, will serve as a nice reminder, especially when you keep forgetting to thank him for every hit.

“There we go, dear. Ah, ah — don't cry now. This is what you wanted, is it not? My undivided attention — and you certainly have it, now. Which number were we on again? Tell me, darling, or we will have to start over, I'm afraid.”

The second SIGMA spares a quick glance at his phone, only to stumble upon a rather revealing picture you just sent him — and, God, 'rather revealing' is an understatement when he's able to see just how wet you are, thighs spread for the camera —, his face heats up significantly, earning him some odd looks from the other men he's currently in a meeting with. In a desperate attempt to regain professionalism, he clears his throat, trying to simply continue, but it's as if every thought has been erased from his mind and was replaced by you.

When getting home that evening, he's calmed down considerably, cheeks still warm with the memory of you being this bold, though his sudden calmness might just change when you expect him in that exact same position, legs wide apart, the smile on your face teasing — and who is he not to end up on his knees in front of you, tongue flattening against your cunt while both of you let out breathy moans? In the end, he's all but begging you to return the favour.

“Ah, God, I'm close. At least finish me off, please—, you were really cruel today, dear. Make it up to me? Please? Oh, fuck—”

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