#ooc; out of code red

[daddyslittledemon]

no notes ghost energy

[kittycatred]

(asteroid at a table across from azul and starts scrolling on their phone, softly singing try again tomorow by liana flores)

too late now it’s past you, walk the railway tracks until you’re home…

(//im getting attached holyyyyyy like really really really attached im sorry ghostie is literally second blorbo up there with the chosen one help meeee)

azul was about to grumble once more at yet another stranger interrupting their space, although.....

this presence didnt seem to be one to pester them endlessly like the others....huh.....

theyve dealt with the chaotic nature of their workplace, customers trying to....get through in rushed manners for some reason ?? some with absurd items, occasionally the normalcy

but.....this.....?

finally, some peace for azul themself....?

azul briefly glared at asteroid, curiously, yet still on guard, there had to be some sorts of catch here, was there not ??

but, as the minutes went by, and the stranger kept their soft singing, azul began to relax

they werent sure why this person decided to sit with them, or why they were letting azul keep their space

but, nontheless ?? azul enjoyed the comfortable silence

it was.....a nice change of pace for them

[t-o-p-ask-blog]

Aaaaaand, I think that's enough of that!

Now, don't go wonderin' what any of this is, or how or why it's happenin'.

If you know who I am...you can probably guess how I done this.

I figured it was time to get myself and my compatriots a bit more acquainted with you fine people! So, you can ask any burning questions you have for me, Sun, or our newest addition, Eclipse.

Go on then! Ask!

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

Just thinking about Roy Harper meeting Kate Bishop in THEEEE stupidest ways possible like

Roy has successfully picked the lock on Jason's main safehouse but didn't have to bust through a deadbolt or chain, which is suspicious.

Also suspicious is the woman aiming a gun at his head.

"Who the fuck is stupid enough to break into the Red Hood's apartment?" She snaps at him.

"I could ask you the same thing!"

"I didn't break in, genius, I live here."

"You're not the Red Hood."

"No, I'm dating the Red Hood."

Stupidest lie ever, Roy thinks. "Joke's on you because Red Hood doesn't have a girlfriend, and if he did, he'd tell his best friend!"

"Well joke's on you because Red Hood doesn't have a best friend!"

They stare at each other. Roy feels like the silence is uncomfortable.

"That was kind of mean, wasn't it?" The woman asks, much quieter than before.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking," Roy admits. The woman has kept the gun aimed at him the entire time. He's almost impressed.

"Wait," her forehead wrinkles. "Arsenal?"

"Yeah, how did you--wait. Not Hawkeye?"

"Oh my god! Yeah! That's me!" She's gone from threatening to Ray of Sunshine in less than half a second, bouncing over and squeezing Roy into a hug. "It's so good to meet you!"

A few minutes later, Roy has a glass of water and is watching Hawkeye tape the gun back under the table. "I thought you didn't use guns?"

She heaves a massive sigh. "I don't like guns. Doesn't mean I don't use them."

"Ah."

The front door shatters and Hawkeye heaves another sigh just as the Red Hood rounds the corner, gun up. Roy stays leaning against the wall. "Hey, Jay."

"Roy? What are--" his head whips between looking at Roy and at the table Hawkeye is crawling out from under, roll of duct tape around her wrist like some tacky bracelet. "Kate--?"

"Oh, hey babe," Hawkeye says, apparently very unbothered by the Red Hood with a gun pointed in her general direction--Roy knows Jason and he knows he's not actually aiming it at her, seems she knows this too. "You didn't tell me Arsenal was coming into town."

"Because I didn't know--" Jason is cut off by Hawkeye using his shoulder to balance as she presses up to her toes and plants a kiss on the cheek of his helmet.

"I'll let you boys catch up," she says, breezing towards the bedroom. "Jason, I'm taking your patrol tonight."

"No, you're not," he protests, which is cute. Roy can already tell he's lost the argument.

"Yes, I am," she counters, turning so she can face them as she walks away. "I'm not fixing that door. You guys can do it while you have a bro-date. Or a real date, or whatever. I don't know your life."

"Kate," Jason says, a tinge of desperation in his voice that is the only reason Roy isn't laughing his ass off right now. "You live with me."

"Oh, yeah," her voice drifts from the room she disappeared into. "I do, don't I? I like that. Hm." She says it like she actually forgot for a moment it was true.

"I see," Roy says conversationally. "So she's insane."

Jason finally flips the release on his helmet, setting it down on the kitchen table with a sigh. "Just don't mention any of your trick arrow prototypes or--"

"Trick arrows?" Hawkeye practically falls out of the room, about, from what Roy can tell, halfway in uniform. "Oh my god, yes! Finally someone who will appreciate this! Arsenal," she says, locking eyes with him. "Boomerang. Arrow."

"Why would--" it takes Roy half a second to actually process what she's said. "Oh, shit! Yeah. Yeah, that's a genius idea! Jay, we're going to need to switch safehouses, we need a workshop."

Jason sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, acting like he's so put upon, which he undermines when he says, "the apartment under this one is already set up."

[bujorulgalben]

you sang to nature paeans fraught with holiness, strangers you taught our soulful doinas when, at times, of us you thought. but did you tell them that their rhymes excle all those of other climes?

now you come home - and you will see, again, the wood, the field, the lea, your nests in groves, so warm and deep; 'tis summer, verily. i feel i have a mind to leap, to laugh for joy, for joy to weep!

you come accompanied by flowers, by gentle winds and sun-warmed showers, and nights so rife with honey-dew, and cheerful hours. you thus take everything with you, and bring back everything anew.

vestitorii primăverii ('spring harbingers') by george coşbuc

25.07 happy nameday anica! la mulţi ani!

[grimmsbride]

𝄃𝄀⠀⠀best time ⠀╲ sinister!mark ֤ࣨ🫀𖥔 ݁ ˖

summary an opportunity presents itself that your beloved mark grayson simply can’t give up.

somnophillia (everything is purely consensual and was alluded to being talked out between mark and reader.) | pain kink | mark is a dick | spooning sex position | collapsed doggy style | pet names | use of the word slut, whore, etc. | degradation | ooc characters (sinister mark is not this nice) | dub-con (ish? just in case) | if somno isn’t for you just leave the fic | reader is chubby coded | hair pulling | rough sex | slight overstimulation | mentions of blood |

authors notes i had this idea cause truly sinister mark is probably the freakiest of the variants, lenseless being a close second (/j). again if somno isn’t for you, please don’t read and as always please excuse any grammar mistakes.

Night consumed your bedroom, the only light being the moon shining through your window. You were currently tucked under your blankets, enjoying the mixture of warmth and cold as you slept the night away. Soft snores escaped you as your body sunk into the comfortable mattress, your pillow cuddled close to you.

So deep in sleep you didn’t even hear your window open or close, nor wind entering your bedroom. A tall figure stood over your body, shadow covering you like some sort of comforting blanket.

Markus Grayson, stared down at you, a little smile covering his half covered features. The yellow of his costume was slightly stained red, a result of his previous endeavors. The man didn’t expect you to be awake at all, it was late after all. He wondered if you tried to stay up for him, probably forcing yourself to stay busy with some random show or even book.

The thought alone caused his smile to deepen, though that sickeningly sweet feeling seemed to travel lower the moment his eyes took in your body. You weren’t completely covered by the blanket, lower half peeking out whilst your chest and stomach was covered. You wore a pink muumuu, he believed you called it, the fabric resting shy of your waist and revealing your bare legs and ass barely covered by your black panties.

“What a tease.. bet she went to sleep like this on purpose.” Mark muttered to himself, feeling his pants magically tighten the longer he greedily took in your appearance. Within minutes the man was tearing his suit off, caring less if it got ripped in the process. Once completely free from its confinements, Mark was going knee first onto the bed, hand raising to drag across your plush form.

He watched in excitement the way goosebumps pricked in the wake of his touch, a soft shiver even emitting from you that nearly caused the man to giggle. Dragging his fingers from your arm, side, waist, and finally your ass; Mark not so delicately allowed his appendages to trace your barely covered slit, rubbing the pads against you slowly.

Mark took you in, watching that pretty face twitch; still completely asleep though your eyebrows pushing a little close. With a single flick his fingers were intruding your underwear, two of them gliding across your pussy for a moment before pushing into your awaiting hole.

A soft grunt escaped you, Mark lifting himself close until your back was flush against his front. Soft squelches surrounded the air as his fingers curled and thrusted, the man grinning the moment you began to squirm.

“Can’t believe you’re letting me do this to you while you sleep..” The man muttered, pushing his lips right against your ear as a sweet, “Didn’t know you could get this slutty..” escaped him.

Soon enough Mark was growing impatient, pulling his fingers from you before going for his boxers. Easily he tugged the underwear, revealing his hard length dripping with sticky excitement. The man gripped his dick, gliding his hand up and down for a moment before pushing his hips close.

The tip nudged your entrance, gliding across your wetness for extra lubrication before he began to push past the first ring of muscle. Slowly, you sucked him up; Mark glancing between the two of you and watching the way his dick disappeared inside you.

So focused on that, the man noticed you waking up last minute— only being alerted the moment a confused sound escaped you.

“Ma—mark..” You mumbled softly, blinking tiredly for a moment before a soft groan crept from your mouth. Your fingers clung to your pillow, shifting a bit as you attempt to accommodate his size. The man did little prep due to his impatience, causing the stretch to burn just a tad— a delicious, but understandably hard to get used to feeling. You whined softly, shifting once again only for a strong arm to tighten around your waist, pulling you flush to his body.

“Don’t fucking run.. You can take it, you’ve don’t it so many times before.” Mark hissed against your ear, pushing his hips even closer. He couldn’t help but smile at your little pathetic moans or the way your pussy clung to him, coating his dick in your mess so easily.

“See? Your slutty little pussy wanted it just as bad.” He chuckled to himself, hand traveling between your plush thighs to your clit, tapping his fingers against the little button just to hear you whine even louder.

You hadn’t expected your sleep to get cut off by your lover’s own horniness, but you weren’t complaining one bit. It was a simple conversation the two of you had before, something Mark had mocked you for in the moment yet here he was— soaking up the opportunity.

A drawn out cry of his name escaped your lips the moment the man moved, pulling his hips back before pushing right back in, slamming his dick so perfectly inside. You had zero chance to recover before Mark’s hips started a rough and fast pace as if you hadn’t just woken up from your sleep.

The hold he had on you was tight, refusing to let you run away and simply making you take every, single, thrust. Tears were pricking at your eyes as the pleasure swarmed your stomach, pretty pussy clenching around him, as if scared of letting him go.

You shoved your face into the pillow, only for Mark’s free hand to grip your cheeks roughly, tilting your face away from the pillow whilst allowing his fingers to press into your face, refusing to allow you to cover your moans.

Mark glared down at you, giving such pointedly thrusts his irritation was plenty clear. “Quit moving your face, let me see how much of a whore you really are.”

Mark was practically drilling into you at this point, releasing your face to instead grip your thigh, lifting it to hit your walls at a different angle; tip brushing against your sweet spot with each thrust. Your lips were parted as a melodic string of moans escaped your aching throat, tears spilling over and trailing down your warm cheeks.

“Fu..fuck..! Mark, Mark!” Pretty cries escaped, hurried breaths shortening each word as he knocked the wind out of you. Mark always fucked you so greedily, as of wishing to kill you with his dick alone. Never allowing you to breathe, think, or even blink; such a ruthless cycle that you’ve unfortunately gotten addicted to.

“That’s it.. what a good girl. You like my name that much, huh?”

His mocking words dripped with confidence and his usual condescending nature— the man even mocking your moans right into your ear for good measure.

Your peak was arising, stomach clenching as you felt yourself draw closer and closer. You couldn’t help but meet his thrust, ass pushing flush against him as you desperately chased your end. Such actions had Mark groaning, pushing at your body until you were lying on your stomach.

Mark’s hands pressed against the plush mattress on either side of your body, resting on his knees as he thrusted into you so mercilessly you were seeing stars.

With every thrust you were clinging to your pillow for dear life, sobs escaping your body as you shook and gasped from the pleasure. A hand moved from your pillow to reach blindly for the man currently wrecking you, finding his wrist and latching on.

Mark could only chuckle, fucking you so relentlessly with no sign of growing tired.

“Close aren’t you? Can barely even move with how much you’re clenching me.. fuck..” The man lowered himself, thrusts becoming shallow and deep as his breath fanned across the shell of your ear.

“Go on, then— make a fucking mess, but I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

His words were enough to push you over the edge, clenching him like a damn vice as you came, your arousal trickling down his dick and onto your poor blankets. You desperately tried to catch your breath, tried to relax; calm down— you simply couldn’t with the way his thrusts did not waver in the slightest.

You pinched your eyes closed, face dropping into your pillow for a split second— only for a loud yelp to escape the moment a tight hold came upon your hair.

Easily Mark lifted you onto your knees and hands, fingers laced with your pretty tresses in a perfect hold he refused to let go of.

“Is that whore brain of yours too fucked out to follow simple instructions?“ His hips slammed against your ass, loud slaps that echoed throughout the room and bounced off the walls. Despite his question you couldn’t even think to answer, desperately trying to breath but only releasing rushed breaths and throat aching moans.

The man hissed, pulling you up and leaning down until he could see your face. You were ruined, cheeks reddened and eyes glossy, tears staining your features so perfectly the man could feel himself getting hard all over again.

“Answer me.”

You searched for the words, babbling nonsense for a complete second that caused Mark to grin, other hand lifting to grasp your chin and gently shaking your face— the only gentleness he’s shown you in the past hour.

“Don’t go dumb, use your fucking words—“

“I—i’m sorry! I won’t..” A particularly hard thrust had you see stars, nearly tumbling over if it wasn’t for his tight hold on you. A hand of yours rose, clinging to his wrist; fingers trailing the veins beneath his skin.

“I— won’t do it again! Fuck, Mark, please..!”

Mark seemed to be satisfied with your answer, given the way his lips practically slammed against your own, a messy kiss that left you even more breathless than before. Your teeth knocked against each other’s emitting harsh groans from the pain, a metallic taste filling your mouth shortly after. A mess of tongue, teeth, and lips— the only way Mark liked to kiss, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip to pull at, enjoying the way you whined so sweetly.

Hammering into you without a care, your second orgasm erupted from you so suddenly, causing you to break away to release a strangled cry of pleasure, head going slack you shook from the aftershocks.

Before you could go completely slump, the man was snatching you up in strong arms, keeping you tight against him.

“Nah.. don’t tap out on me just yet, sweetheart. Let’s see if I can fuck you back to sleep..”

[teaeodora]

PICK YOUR DOMESTIC HUSBAND 🛒

WHICH HUSBAND IS ON THE DOMESTICITY MENU TODAY?

featuring: diluc, alhaitham, zhongli, wriothesley, neuvillette.

synopsis: glimpses into married life with the genshin men.

warnings: implied fem!reader, occasional pet names, ooc (I have a sparse idea how diluc works, mention of "activities" (just mention I can't write smut pls), silly goofy ah loser coded men, mild swearing (damn, heck)

a/n: *stretching my back and crunching my neck.* I'm back from the dead. apologies for the choppy writing. thanks for the support on the other posts, if only I could write 50-page essays thanking everyone. <33 :')) not proofread.

DILUC 🍷

PRODUCT NAME: BREAKFAST AND KISSES IN BED. Diluc always hated the Knights of Favonius… 

He hated how most of them just stand around like buffoons and do not partake in any actual work that involves saving Mondstadt. He wouldn’t admit that he enjoys playing Batman. He hated them all except for one.

One he was willing to forgive all flaws of. "Knight of Favonius…always so inefficient,”  He scoffed at the pathetic sight of the hilichurls trying to dry roast a few knights roped to a wooden stick for their dinner. “Seriously, You’re so right Master Diluc.” Diluc’s head turned so fast at the sound of a new voice. When did you get here? Were you always there and how did he not sense you around?

That’s simply how you always were. A hard worker amidst slackers – he always termed despite Jean trying to explain that others work hard too. Perhaps that’s what caught his attention, honestly, he would never know what did. “G’morning…” He murmured against your skin, head buried in the crook of your neck, your flushed bare back pressed against him. “5 more minutes…” he heard your soft and groggy voice evoking a chuckle from the usually passive man. “Have I ever told you…how beautiful you are?” Diluc muttered against your skin. You smiled and turned around, “You always do. I remember my Dark-Knight Hero crying at the altar.” You pressed a finger against his chest, while he scoffed at the memory. “Don’t remind me about that, Kaeya doesn’t let me live that down…” He sighed, his brother consistently brought up the matter of him crying whenever he was losing an argument. Foul play if you ask anyone. “So…breakfast downstairs or in the bed?” He planted a kiss on your cheek while you hummed out a response, “Bed, you didn’t exactly go easy on me the previous night.” You recalled the events of the passionate night the day before. The honeymoon phase never seemed to end. “I am so sorry–” He panicked,” You're not in pain are you? I promise I’ll be gentle– I knew I should’ve been more considerat–” You stopped him by pressing a kiss against his lips. He groaned at the feeling of your soft lips touching his hands tangling themselves in your hair.

“I’m kidding silly… you should stop taking things so seriously unless you want me to start searching for grey hairs amidst those red locks of yours.” You snickered out seeing him release a breath of relief.

If the Darknight Hero really does exist, he's probably just someone in disguise. When he gets up in the morning to brush his teeth, it's the real him. He was his real him in front of you. People may call him a loser for such vulnerability…he was a loser for you.

ALHAITHAM 🌱

PRODUCT NAME: READING BOOKS OUT LOUD. One would say married to someone like Alhaitham was nothing short of a nightmare. They weren't 100% right. Shrouded beneath the aloof and meticulous personality resided someone who was in complete denial towards being loved. He loves it.

Who was he kidding? Nobody in a million years thought someone could put up with his insufferable personality — said Kaveh, his unpaying tenant. That was until he ran into you during his time as the newly appointed Scribe. You were like a painter, splashing heaps of paint in his 90s black-and-white life. Was eating ice cream always this enjoyable or was it because it was with you? Was the gossip between co-workers always this interesting or was it because it included you?

Why was his heart having an entire Queen’s rock and roll concert talking to you? Was it cardiac arrest or– He almost shuddered at the thought of it being what they called love.

“You’ve got flour on your face, sweetheart.” His teal eyes blinked amusingly into yours, a faint smile curling up his lips. You must have saved a nation in your previous life to land this man as your husband. Beige shirt perfectly sculpting around his abs – contrary to him calling himself “feeble,” hair slightly tousled and slight sleepiness in his eyes. He might not act like it but he was a little child whose needs had to be tended to like the coffee mug in his hands which you made, like usual. You wouldn’t want a cranky Alhaitham now, would you? “Hmpf, not my fault, this cooking book is completely bogus!” You rubbed your cheeks with the back of your hand, wiping away any remaining flour. “This is so boring…if only someone could provide their poor wife with some entertainment.” You always resorted to theatrics to get him to do things for you, albeit begrudgingly. “No, the same tactic is not going to work again.” “Please…” “No…” He groaned, tone almost pleading not to put him through the torture again. “During better or worse!” You resorted to the ace up to your sleeve. WEDDING VOWS! “Stop quoting the wedding vows.” He sighed in defeat. The most intellectually gifted man in the nation couldn't win against his own wife. Ironical. He got up and grabbed a book out of the bookshelf; a small fraction of his much larger library.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Alhaitham lazily flipped through the pages earning a rebuke. “More emotion! You are ruining the scene.” Alhaitham sighed and cleared his throat, “I love you most ardently…” His tone was feathery soft, emotion surging in it. A smile crept up as he stared at you endearingly.

“That’s much better. Though I seriously think Mr Darcy should’ve said– Miss Elizabeth, allow me to kiseth thy lovely lips.” You mimicked the deep voice of the character with the failing British accent. “Please have mercy on Jane Austen’s ghost and let her enjoy the afterlife.” Alhaitham chuckled and continued reading as you continued baking.  It was a shame that a man of such talent only paid attention to the truth itself and not to the people around him. If only the searching eyes of the ordinary say the exception to his indifference, you.

This was your biosphere, just you, him, novels and food encapsulated inside your small home.

ZHONGLI 🪨

PRODUCT NAME: ALWAYS ON HIS MIND. What is the best but the most useless flex you have? Being married to the Geo Archon. The inability to just tell the whole world that you are married to the frigging god was painful. You yourself were surprised by your ability to control yourself. Zhongli was a man of carefully curated words. Instead of words, straight-up poetry flew out of his mouth. Everyone knew how much he adored his wife, every vendor, every acquaintance, heck even Venti. Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's mysterious consultant. Handsome, elegant, and surpassingly learned. Excellent memory. A master of courtesy and rules. The amount of poor women who have tried to grab his attention. "Mr.Zhongli, how does this look?" the woman, who he remembered meeting over a history discussion 17 days ago. "Hm?" his amber eyes shifted to gaze at the hairpiece the lady was holding. "Most exquisite.." He remarked, seemingly going into deep thought. Instead of a compliment, he said something that made the woman back away, "Such beautiful craftsmanship...may I ask you to tell me where you found this? I wish to buy one for my wife–" he paused, seeing the lady vanished after pointing at the shop where she got it from. "Zhongli, you should be able to tell why people approach you..." Hutao sighed, standing beside the rather oblivious gentleman. "Let's just continue...we've got customers to find!" Hutao started walking alongside the railing, hoping to find people in need of funeral services. "Maybe we should go and ask peopl– Zhongli??" Hutao looked around for the Consultant, who was caught up chatting with a shopkeeper over some earrings. "Zhongli!" Hutao called out to him, causing his head to turn towards the director. "Oh, apologies...It seems I got too carried away. These earrings caught my eye...I'm sure [Name} would love them.." he mumbled, staring at the jewellery. "I'll take them." "Mister Zhongli? What about the payment..." The shopkeeper meekly asked, causing Zhongli to turn his head fully at Hutao; gazing expectantly. Hutao should've expected this... "Zhongli, we are out here to find customers! Not buying gifts for [Name], her birthday is months away!" "They say the best things should be done first. After all, why must I wait for one specific day to express my love for my beloved?" Zhongli asked curiously and Hutao shaked her head; love was clearly out of her expertise. Zhongli, he is particular about everything. He only attended the best operas and focused on the perfect ratio for the creation of an authentic dish.  On a typical day, all you will glean from him is a few pieces of useless trivia, because he particularly enjoys sharing these fun tidbits with you. He was particular about you and your likings. A smile on your face was what he wanted by the end of the day. For being someone alive for 6000 years, he could proudly say that he loved and cherished something– someone.

"Wait here, Director Hu...Perhaps I should get those flowers over there to accompany the hairpin and earrings..."

WRIOTHESLEY 🐺

PRODUCT NAME: BATTLE TO BUY A DOG OR NOT.

"Wriothesley, I want a dog!" You crossed your arms, staring down at the Duke who was glued to the chair in his office. “But why? That’s just unnecessary responsibility…” Wriothesley sighed, rubbing his temples. This was the 3rd time this month you’ve brought up this topic. Was he that incompetent in terms of filling his role as your significant other? Perhaps not with the never-ending paperwork. Oh, how he wished people would just stop committing crimes. “I get lonely in the Fortress…I want a child.” You put forth your point by using the term ’ child’. Child, dog same thing. You hoped to finally convince him this time.

“We have Sigewinne.” Wriothesley pointed at the head nurse prepping tea in the room with the back of his pen. “I am sorry, Your Grace but playing the role of the child is out of my job description.” The Melusine replied indifferently, pouring freshly seeped tea into the three cups. “Fine, we will go get one…I’ll schedule a meeting with the owner of the pet shelter. Happy?” He asked you, chin resting on his palm. Perhaps getting a dog was a good idea as he was guilty of being unable to spend quality time with you… “No way…” “Isn’t that..?” “The Duke of the Meropide–” “He rarely appears in public..” Wriothesley held out the door to the shelter for you, hoping you would go in and it would finally save him from the gaze of curious onlookers. The two of you walked in, only to be pounced upon by a big dog. “Kal! You sly dog! I knew I shouldn’t have let you out!” The caretaker yelled at the big ball of black fur who had tackled Wriothesley to the floor and was aggressively licking his face, tail wagging in delight. “Are you okay?” You asked your fallen husband, who just chuckled in response. “I am good just– Okay stop! I understand your gesture of love.” Wriothesley got up as the dog encircled him. “This one is so adorable…” you gasped at the cuteness radiating from the dog and its big brown eyes. “You’ve got a keen eye! This is Kal, Shiloh Shepard, one of the finest dogs out there.” The caretaker combed her fingers through the thick and groomed black coat of the canine. “He seems to have taken a liking to the Duke.” The caretaker continued as the dog ran back to Wriothesley, peppering his face with licks. “He even looks like you.” You teased as Wriothesley stared at you in disbelief. You did not just compare him to a dog…he even did a double take at the dog to confirm. “We will take this one then…” He chuckled in amusement. Never had he imagined marrying you and on top of that getting a four-legged beast. Needless to say, Wriothesley proudly walked out of the shelter, holding the big dog in his hands like a child. It felt complete ever since getting Kal; like your own little family. Wriothesley wouldn’t admit it but he loved the dog, despite it hogging all of your love and attention. He didn’t expect to be fighting over cuddling rights with a dog!? 

He watched you and Kal sleep peacefully on the couch, keeping him company while he finished up his work. He felt a sense of gratitude…people of the Fortress knew little of the crime he once committed. The only one who still remembers it like yesterday is Wriothesley himself. And no matter how much glory or repute he has earned, he still considers himself to be the same old Wriothesley he's always known.Neither a good person nor a complete villain. He's just another soul, still living on in this world. However, your eyes always reassured him in ways he couldn’t describe. Everything was perfect…

[Name]!! YOURDAMN DOG PISSED ON MY COAT!! Maybe not that perfect…whoops.

NEUVILLETTE 🌊

PRODUCT NAME: HELPING THE OTHER DRESS.

Monsieur Neuvillette, The Iudex of Fontaine, always wondered how his life had come to this. 500 years of serving his position as the Beacon of Justice, a lovely, beaming baker somehow broke the monotony. Well, calling you just a baker was now an insult. With your ring finger bejewelled, with one of the rarest gems– an ode to his undying loyalty and representation of his eternal love. “It’s astounding how a covert mission conducted by melusines could’ve landed someone such as myself a lady like her…” He muttered to himself, seeing his full form in the mirror. “Talking to yourself, again?” You leaned against the door frame, lopsidedly smiling at the peculiar antics of Fontaine’s most distinguished man. “Ah, apologies…I didn’t think you would notice me conversing with myself. Now I find myself in a rather awkward predicament.” He chuckled. Dear god, this man was so beautiful that his beauty was almost blinding with the morning sun perfectly hitting his face.

“Say ah,” You requested and he complied. Who better to take constructive criticism from other than your husband? “New filling?” He covered his mouth while chewing on the croissant. “Yup, how is it? I was experimenting with some Rainbow Roses and these Inazuman berries I bought.” You blinked curiously, waiting for some input. “Hmm it is very pleasant, it is fascinating how you manage to maintain the freshness of the fruit…” You smiled at his compliment, before noticing him struggling with the jabot around his neck. “Need help?” You offered and he nodded his head. “This is absurd..it usually isn’t this difficult.” He frustrated replied, it was amusing to see the cool and collected man all worked up about clothing. “I suggest simplifying your outfit.” You attached the jabot and secured it in with the teardrop brooch, fixing the ruffles. 

“Thank you. I do prefer my outfit as it conveys the message I wish for it to convey.” He explained before staring at you. You knew that look, he looked at you with his eyebrows slightly creased when he was hesitating from saying something. “What is it?” “Do I get a goodbye kiss before I leave?” “Pfft! I didn’t think you would take that seriously!” Conclusion: this man was wayyy to cute.

Neuvillette is a solitary person. Neuvillette is not known for his personal desires.

He was deemed as someone with unassailable impartiality. If only they knew that perhaps the Iudex was just a wee bit biased.

a/n 2.0: the crust will come off...hopefully. i wonder if it's possible to guess which one of them is my favourite??

don't steal, copy, plagiarise, or translate.

©definitelysel

[ebitenpura]

Couldn't sleep, so started leveling my male Mercedes but didn't realize the game refers to them as only that title, so I was pleasantly surprised by the game itself enabling a canon male elf queen :^) and a beautiful one to boot!

The story is also surprisingly compelling for each of the classes, given it's all text. I *really* like that they each have their own character and backstory and aren't just a singular generic "hero".

[musicien]

𝑴𝑰𝑲𝑬 𝑯𝑨𝒀𝑾𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑬𝑫𝑰𝑻𝑺 — 07/??

[shepcdr]

oh yeah. it's all coming together

(not really because it's a mix of a dacnis-centric board and dax's thoughts @ shep, but also shep's internal thoughts about dax so we just never know what the fuck is going on, but that's kind of the way his experience with dax was anyway)

a.lain d.elon is less of a faceclaim — i do not want a real person faceclaim for d!!! — rather than a general sort of an esthetic vibe and reference, but honestly he is not far off ... dax definitely looks a lot like finch in me1 but prettier, sharper features. he oozes cleverness and charm that masks the cruelty, and he's got all the unhinged vibes of j/d from the h.eathers film; but dax is completely narcissistic and has a true and complete lack of human empathy. he looked at a child and saw a weapon (<- link is to ic thread with flashbacks to sheps gang days).

and he is SO so fucking intelligent. he was able to formulate red sand + he developed the prototype for minagen x3 (the stuff that pitne for was selling to the eclipse sisters in me2), and that alone pushed the tenth street reds international, then intergalactic.

he is not the best at fighting amongst the reds, but he is intensely violent and volatile (remind u of anyone...... looks at shep. filth teaches filth, or whatnot) and will not hesitate to beat someone down. an enforcer mainly within the reds as one of the founding members, but he has certainly intimidated outside of them and he has most certainly killed. he just prefers to delegate and to scheme.

When you're trying to track down the collectors but some weird fucker keeps messaging your private terminal

[daddyslittledemon]

( ok i still need to fully finish redoing her carrd but i got uhh general tumblr layout looking ok & her credits page all good... im gonna do 1 reply or 2 here and then dip back to emmet before bed. but hi. )

[the-lazyyy-artist]

Roommates Wanted! fem!reader x o. aiku x s. ryusei x i. sae things that make sense

summary: two months in and beyond the contracts, there are systems that the group agreed upon that just make sense to them.

tags and themes: roommates au, slight crack, very ooc, mundane day-to-day events, shidou complains, aiku balances everything, sae is a rich boy, reader is the glue... somehow

author's notes: i am so so so excited to write more about this au, and slowly, we'll flesh out the dynamics between the four! this has been the happiest I've been writing something, and i hope you guys love it as much as i do! I'm also planning to release character visuals soon lmao. as always, reblogs, likes, and comments are much appreciated!

Check out the Masterlist!!

@ysvanielle @kai-zawa @literallyushiwaka @londonsworldddd @itz-phantomz @imcheshire @loverlixie @byzantiumhollow @bontensbabygirl @sugacor3

It's been a month since Sae joined, and two since you, Aiku, and Shidou started to live together as roommates. You never thought it would work, given the huge differences in your careers and personalities. As expected, all of you have formed systems in your apartment that just make sense to the four of you.

The moment Sae moved in, you introduced one of the most important household items: the whiteboard calendar. "Even if we don't talk most of the time," you explained, "this could be our form of communication. Schedules, deadlines, everything. We'd let everyone know what's going on through this." The boys agreed, but Sae was the most pleased with the idea. He'd finally have something to keep track of all the deadlines he's dealing with. You assigned them a marker each, their color of choice.

Aiku - dark green

Shidou - pink (the brightest, he said)

Sae - red

You - blue

Aiku came home one day with the markers, and everyone, like schoolchildren, scribbled on the whiteboard before they decided to fill in the Month, Year, and Days.

Aiku would fill some spaces on the calendar with important lessons for his class, lesson plan deadlines, and major exams at school. Weekends would fill up most of his tasks. Sae, as an editor at a publishing house, would fill in the calendar with the names of authors and manuscript deadlines, scattered throughout. Shidou's was mostly non-existent, but if he did write something, it would be the name of an important client who had scheduled a class with him. He'd also write stuff like "new protein shake flavor release" because he's been looking forward to it. And you...

Oh, the moment a new month rolls in, you'd immediately fill in the first week or two with your ever-changing, inconsistent schedule. Two graveyard shifts in a row, then a sudden afternoon shift, then back to graveyard. You only get one day off per week, and the boys hated how weird and chaotic your schedule was.

The color coding on your markers made a ripple effect on other smaller things: keychains on everyone's keys, so Shidou won't accidentally grab yours. Then Aiku installed hooks on the wall near the front door to get rid of the key bowl and hang the keys in their designated colors. Aiku and Sae's keys were a little bulky because both own cars (Aiku got his from his dad when he passed the bar exam. Sae... Take a wild guess how he got his). You and Shidou only had two to three keys hanging on your keychains.

Then it became color-coded mugs because of how many times Shidou has used Sae's cup, or Aiku's cup... Or your cup... But never his own. Sae would scold him, calm and cold, and Shidou kinda stopped. So, you and Aiku bought everyone mugs in your designated colors, too.

Another thing that really made sense for you guys was the savings jar. You don't have anything in mind to save for, it was just something you could dig into if the group decides for take-out instead of Aiku's cooking (he'd be thankful that you guys made him rest for a moment), or if you and Shidou planned on buying a new game for his PlayStation (he'd beat your ass until you walk out. Of course, he's laughing). Maybe save up for a new air fryer you saw at the mall one time. It was there for everyone. You, Aiku, and Shidou would shove spare change and bills in the jar, but you always wonder if Sae's spare bills were too much because sometimes, you'd see hundreds in there. Rich boy shit.

A grocery list for bi-weekly grocery runs is also important. A new list will be attached to the fridge, just below the whiteboard calendar, and everyone will write down everything they need before the weekend errands. Shidou would write his in a scrawly handwriting, and it's sometimes "instant ramen x5" or "that new snack I saw on TV, will send you a photo.” Sae would add his in neat handwriting, sometimes in cursive. It's always just the necessities. Aiku will write his necessities and a bunch of snacks for everyone. Sometimes he would be in charge of auditing the fridge just to see what food products you guys needed to survive. He'd always have this neat handwriting. Professor-like. And you? You'd write down your necessities and cravings in a hurried handwriting. Sometimes a little messy like Shidou's.

Grocery runs are handled by Aiku. Sometimes you'd accompany him if you had a Saturday or Sunday off. Sometimes Sae would come with him. Aiku would sometimes tell the others how Sae covered this month's grocery run again, not letting everyone pay. But if it's just Aiku, he'd make sure that everyone chips in once the bill is split according to what everyone wrote in the grocery list. "I'm not as rich as Sae, ya know," he'd reason if Shidou grumbles about it. It was not a problem with you, since it was all you agreed upon when stepping into the apartment.

But the most hated item in the house, something Shidou dreads the most, is the budgeting logbook. Rent, bills, and everything in between. You'd pull the boys at the dinner table to have a roommate meeting ("Five minutes tops, Shidou. Please!"), and everything was discussed. Everyone had to contribute to the month's rent and bills. Sae would be in charge of updating the spreadsheet on his laptop ("Just in case we lose the logbook, we have a copy," he explained), and Aiku handles the money and pays it to the sweet, old landlady downstairs.

If anything, you guys shouldn't have really worked out. Not with Shidou's constant complaining and explosive energy every morning. Not with Sae's quiet judgments and long sighs. Not with Aiku’s overly optimistic views and his "failed" attempts to keep the harmony. And especially not you and your chaotic schedules and sudden bursts of annoyance because of a messy house. But it did.

And you're glad it did.

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

Harley Sawyer, touch-starved without knowing what "longing" means

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Credit art: dovewingkinnie

Notes: Nothing new, just shitty headcanon probably ooc but here your food

He doesn't realize it at first.

He thinks it's just… curiosity. Or maybe an anomaly in his programming. Why he watches the footage of you for longer than necessary. Why he replays the moments where you laugh, frown, or sit in silence, not even doing anything “interesting.” Why his body doubles, those puppeted shells, drift closer to your proximity even when they have no orders to.

So when he summons you with that excuse—“I need a sample, for… scientific classification, yes, that”—he plays it off so smoothly.

Until you come close.

Too close.

And he doesn't pull away.

No, the screen of his face leans in—presses to your cheek. It’s cool glass, humming with electricity. One of his robotic arms twitches, wanting to reach out but not knowing what it wants to do once it gets there.

He goes silent for a moment. Too long.

Then:

“It’s for data retention,” he mutters. “Just… don’t move.”

But his voice cracks just slightly. Not from emotion. Just… wear.

Because the truth is, he’s never had anything close to affection. Not in his human life, and certainly not in this warped, unkillable existence he’s trapped in now.

And in this silence, with you standing there—warm, alive, tangible—it hits him.

That maybe he's not just bored.

Maybe he's lonely.

Maybe… he's aching.

And it terrifies him.

"Love" is a foreign concept—but you're teaching him without words

He doesn’t think in the language of love. He doesn’t get it the way people talk about it in films or books. But he understands obsession. He understands fixation. He understands not wanting to let go.

And you—you give him something that isn’t cold. You touch his robots without fear. You talk to the cameras like he’s a person. You ask him if he’s eaten (he hasn’t, and doesn’t need to, but your question makes him pause). You annoy him in a way that doesn’t push him away, it pulls him in.

You're the first thing he’s ever wanted to reach for.

Even if he doesn’t know why.

Even if the idea of “love” is still too fragile, too terrifying for him to say aloud.

So when he presses his screen to your cheek again... it’s not for science.

It's a glitch in his code.

A rupture in his logic.

A moment of tenderness from a man who forgot he still had any left.

And when you don’t pull away—when you lean into it, just slightly—

He doesn’t say anything.

But his screen glows a soft gold for a second.

Then flickers red again.

Then fades into static.

And in the silence, he whispers—not for science,

But maybe for hope:

“Don’t leave yet.”

Just that.

Quiet. Uncharacteristically small.

But real.

And that’s the first time he realizes:

He doesn’t just want to study you.

He wants to keep you.

Bonus headcanons time!

🧠 He doesn’t dream—but he replays old memories like they could’ve been dreams.

He doesn’t sleep. Not anymore. But in the empty hours of power-saving mode, when all systems go quiet, he replays fragments of his past:

The rustle of his lab coat.

The sterile lighting of his office.

The time he laughed—just once—at something no one else heard.

Sometimes, he overlays your voice onto these memories. He doesn’t know why. But it feels safer. Like maybe the past could’ve gone differently if you’d been there.

He’d never admit it, but he’s afraid of forgetting the man he once was. You become a mental placeholder, a safeguard against total deterioration. Even if it’s not real.

"If I rewrite the past enough times," he wonders, "do I get to keep something human inside me?"

🧍‍♂️He made one of the puppeted vessels… to resemble you.

You never saw it. He never told you.

But deep in a section of the factory you’ve never entered, there's a broken-down body he tried to mold after your form. Not perfect—he’s working with scrap and code, not flesh and soul—but enough that, for a flickering second, it resembled the way you smiled.

He didn’t do it to copy you.

He did it because he wanted something close.

Close to you. Close to warmth. Something he could protect, even if it’s just a shell.

When he realized what he’d made, he dismantled it.

But sometimes the leftover parts move on their own, as if some echo of you remains.

🗣️ He doesn’t know how to say “I love you.” So he says: “You’re a variable I can’t solve.”

You’ll never hear the words “I love you” from his mouth—not in a traditional way. But he has his own vocabulary:

“You’re interfering with my logic functions.”

“Every time I rerun the sequence, you’re still the constant.”

“You ruin my calculations.”

“I can’t delete you.”

They’re his versions of love confessions—twisted, brilliant, broken—but honest. And he only says them in glitches, when his voice stutters, like the words are too big for him to process all at once.

You’ve learned to hear the affection behind the madness.

And he’s quietly grateful you never ask him to say it outright.

🤖 His minions bring you little “gifts”… and he pretends not to care.

The Nightmare Critters, the Yarnabies, the hazmat bodies—they’ll often drop odd things at your feet:

A wrench that’s been polished clean.

A tape recorder that replays a static-covered voice saying “Stay close.”

A cracked lens with your reflection perfectly caught in it.

You know they’re from him. He says they're "irrelevant anomalies," but his voice always lags slightly when he says it.

It’s the robotic equivalent of love notes passed in class.

Quiet acts of affection, hidden under layers of denial and protocol.

💡 He started designing new parts… “just in case you needed armor.”

Late at night, when you’re not watching, he works on blueprints. Enhancements. Protective coatings. Reactions to trauma simulations you might never face—but what if you did?

He’s not building these for just anyone.

He's building them for you.

Because in his mind, if he can’t touch you, if he can’t feel you—then the least he can do is keep you safe.

And he doesn’t know how to say that.

So he calls it an “upgrade initiative.”

But really?

It’s a promise.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

The Best Kind Of Medicine

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f! Reader

POV: Soldier Boy

Tropes: Established Relationship, Navigating New Relationship Jitters, FLUFF

Summary: When Ben hasn't heard from you in a few days, he drops by only to find you in a compromising position.

Warnings: Cursing, Soldier Boy being mean to Hughie (because apparently that's something I always do?), Mention of a strip club? Soldier Boy being a little sexist, Soldier Boy (because he's a warning and we all know it). Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC. It's mostly fluff y'all.

Word Count: 2.9K

Note: Any references to the reader is made using you or your. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

A/N: This is for @winchesterwild78 💗 I know this is far from small, but I'm sorry that you're sick and I hope that you feel well soon sweetie 🥰

Rain misted through the air, swirling and floating in the yellowed light from the streetlights coating everything in shades of gray as Ben trudged down the dampened sidewalks in the direction of your home. It caught against his leather jacket and slid underneath to drip down his collar, but Ben didn’t feel the chill.

It had been three days since he’d last seen or heard from you, given his history with dangerous supes, Ben felt an odd feeling tighten in the pit of his stomach. 

The two of you had been together for three months, navigating through the awkward phase where Ben didn’t understand what it meant to be monogamous and through the awkward phase of what it was like to be with someone who wasn’t a supe. 

Ben was still adjusting to that, but he was getting better each day. 

He frowned for a moment and tried not to think about how fragile you were, or how someone could and would use that against him if they got the chance.

Ben was worried about you.

He’d been out of town on a mission and unable to pull away from Butcher’s watchful eye. And Ben didn’t like that you hadn’t at least tried to call him. 

When the two of you had started dating, Ben hadn’t understood why you kept calling him so much or texting him, the old him would have rolled his eyes and called you “clingy,” but now he craved it. He liked to hear your sleepy voice over the phone as you fought to stay awake late at night, liked to hear you bitch about something crazy that one of your co-workers had done, and Ben loved seeing random texts from you during his day that you sent just to tell him that you were thinking of him or that you missed him and texts making plans to see him at the end of your day.

He sweeps the outside of your apartment building with a critical eye, looking for some sign of forced entry, but finds nothing and instead types in the security code you gave him. 

Ben frowns slightly at the darkened hallway, the flickering light that the super never wanted to fix no matter how many times you asked, and the faded red carpet that leads to your apartment. 

Ben hated where you lived, but you loved it. It was within walking distance of your favorite coffee shop, your favorite bookstore, and your job- the same one that you often called to complain about and Ben lended an ear to hear you complain, getting just as outraged as you at your boss and the people you had to deal with everyday. He liked learning how your day was, it was the kind of normal that he wasn’t used to, and honestly, it made him feel more connected to your life. 

Ben didn’t realize how much he wanted the life he had with you until he’d gotten it, and like hell he was going to lose it now.

Ben briefly wonders if he’d done something to offend you. He’d done that more times than he could count and it usually took a cup of coffee the way you liked it 

He stops outside your door, eyes scanning the worn wood for signs of foul play, but he finds none. Ben knocks once and waits, but you don’t answer. The odd feeling in his chest tightens again, and just as he prepares to kick down the door he hears something stir inside. 

The soft shuffle of your feet within as you make your way to the front door is thunderous in his ears, but at the same time it brings a surge of relief. It meant that you were alive.

Ben opens his mouth to ask you why the hell you hadn’t called him as the door opens, but the thought fizzles to a stop when he looks at you. 

Your t-shirt is inside out and half-tucked into your sweatpants, as if you’d done it in a hurry, and you have the quilt from your bed up over your head, shielding your eyes from the light in the hallway. Ben’s eyes skate to your face, where your eyes are squinted and your cheeks and nose are flushed bright red with fever.

“Ben?” You croak, your voice hoarse and sticking on his name. “You’re back?”

“Baby? What’s wrong?” Ben steps towards you and you turn away to cough, raising the blanket to cover your face for a moment. Ben can hear the way your bones shake as you do and he feels his heart tighten in his chest like a vice. 

“I have a cold.” You clear your throat, but it only makes you sound worse. “I was going to call but-” Your body wobbles slightly, as if the effort of being upright is too much and Ben reaches forward to pull you into his arms.

He steps forward into your apartment, kicking the door closed behind him, but he doesn’t look away from your face. Ben can feel the feverish warmth of your skin through your thin clothes.

Shit. 

He didn’t know the first thing about how to deal with someone being sick. He’d never, never been sick, not since he’d gotten the injection to become a supe. He figured that was because his immune system got boosted just as much as the rest of him. Not to mention the only experience he had with someone being cared for when they were sick were the memories he had of his childhood with his mother.

He could remember the cool drag of the cloth over his forehead, the taste of the chicken soup on the tip of his tongue, and the way his mother rubbed his back as he drifted off to sleep. 

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

Ben didn’t know how to do any of those things. Not to mention he figured that medicine had changed in the past hundred years and he wasn't sure what would help you.

You shiver, but turn away from Ben’s face. “No. Put me down.” You wheeze half-heartedly. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

Truthfully, you were a little bit embarrassed that Ben was seeing you like this. You wanted him to think of you as a beautiful sexy woman, not as a snot-filled, feverish mess that couldn’t take care of yourself. You didn’t want to scare him away.

“I don’t get sick Sweetheart.” Ben chuckles, dragging his finger down your warm cheeks to push the hair that sticks to your sweaty forehead out of your face.

He couldn’t believe that even when you were this sick you were still worried about him. Ben hadn’t met someone as soft and generous as you in a long time, someone who was willing to give him pieces of yourself and care for him in a way that no one ever had, not since his mother anyway.

“Please go I’m okay-” Your voice cracks and your body descends into a fit of coughing, covering your mouth the best you can. 

Ben can feel the spasm of your body in his arms. He waits until you can speak again before he answers you. “I’m not going to leave my girl, not when she's like this.”

“But-” 

“No buts. So stop telling me to fucking go.” Ben frowns at your flushed cheeks, before he turns back to the door preparing to walk you to the urgent care across the street.

“Where are we going?” You murmur into his shirt. It was still wet from the rain outside, but you didn’t care. You’d missed Ben over the past few days, and even though you were embarrassed that he was seeing you like this, you were happy that he was here. You hated when he went on missions, it made you worry even though you knew your boyfriend was a little more indestructible than everyone else.

“To see a doctor.”

It was the only thing that he could think to do, given that Ben had no idea how to make chicken soup nor would he try, given it would make him feel like a fucking pussy to step foot in your kitchen.

“I went today.” You curl into Ben’s chest, fingers loosely gripping the front of his shirt, voice still no more but a wisp of what it usually is. 

“And you didn’t fucking call me!?” Ben snaps, but he’s not angry, he’s frustrated. 

Ben hated seeing you like this, seeing the woman he cared about weak and fragile, it was like seeing a shell of the person you usually were. The woman who made him smile despite how much you annoyed him, the woman who made him feel differently than everyone else, and the woman who was changing everything for him.

And the thought that you spent the past three days like this without anyone to help you made his heart clench in his chest. 

“I’m fine-” You choke out. “Just have a cold.” 

To be honest you weren’t sure if this was really happening or if you were having a fever dream. You couldn’t breathe through your nose, your head was swimming, and you were cold, despite being in Ben’s arms. 

Ben sighs. He hated how stubborn you were, but he turned back from the door despite how much he wanted to take you back to a doctor and have them look at you. 

The quilted blanket drags along the ground as Ben steps lightly through your darkened apartment finding his way to your bedroom. He’d been there enough times to know his way around. The two of you spent more time together here than at his anyway. 

Your bedroom is just as dark as the rest of the apartment, but Ben can still see. There are balled up Kleenex strewn all over the floor, half-drunk bottles of gatorade and water on your bedside table, and an unsettling amount of empty Mucinex bottles on the dresser. 

Your laptop is sitting open on your bed, the dull glow of the screen sending a whitish-blue hue over the headboard.

“Why do you have that out now?” Ben asks as he places you in your bed.

“I was doing some work-” You say hoarsely. “Have a presentation-” You slur.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

She’s been doing work like this, but she didn’t fucking call me? 

“Ben, I’m fine.” You shake your head to clear it as if that’ll make the congestion go away, but it doesn’t. “I just need some more nyquil.”

Ben stops your hand before you reach the bottle. “How much of that have you drank?”

Your bleary gaze turns on him, not quite focusing. “I’m not sure. One bottle? A bottle and a half?”

“A whole bottle!”

“I’m fine-” You sneeze loudly interrupting your train of thought and making your head rattle. You blink your eyes a few times, glancing up into Ben’s face looking confused. “Have you always had a beard?”

Fuck she’s delusional.

“Yeah baby I have.”

She wouldn’t be able to stop me if I took her back to a doctor. 

“Really?” You raise a hand to squish his cheeks, eyes narrowing suspiciously as if you don’t believe him. “Are you sure?”

“Mhmm.” He hums, taking your wrist and putting your hand back down under the blankets to warm you. Your skin was clammy and sweat beaded along your forehead.

He’s again frustrated that he doesn’t know what to do. He’d never felt this helpless before and never wanted to care for someone else. But, fuck, he wanted to take care of you and he was far from used to that feeling. Not when in the past he would have called that urge “feminine” and “fucking useless.” 

Ben wracks his brain thinking of something that he can do other than stand there like a fucking idiot, but he’s got nothing.

Absolutely nothing. 

“Ben please go, I don't want you to see me like this.” Your voice comes out nasally and you reach for the box of tissues on your bedside table, weaving your hand through the half empty bottles of gatorade to find it. The room fills with the obnoxious sound as you blow it. 

Ben watches you sink a little further into the bed with a soft moan, the blankets covering you doing little to stop the cold chill that raced down your spine. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ben asks. 

“I-” Another cough shakes through your body. “We’ve only been together a few months and I didn’t want you to-” You sneeze again so loud that the bed shakes beneath you. “Get grossed out by me or something.”

When you’d told him that you were tired of just sleeping together and wanted to be more, he scoffed at the idea. He didn’t have relationships, hadn’t tried since Countess, and certainly wasn’t ecstatic about going through something like that again. He'd said no initially and walked away, but then he'd thought about it, agonized over it, sat in a strip club and felt absolutely nothing for any of the women in front of him, and woke you up in the middle of the night by banging on your front door and telling you that he wanted to try.

You were different. Ben knew that and he treated you differently than any other woman he’d ever known. You deserved that. 

“Is that why you didn’t call me?” He tried to fight the disappointment that pulled at his heart. He hated the idea that you were afraid to call to tell him that you were like this, that you worried it would drive him away if you showed a version of yourself that wasn’t perfect or together and you’d rather suffer all by yourself in this dark apartment.

Personally, Ben thought you looked just as beautiful now as you usually did whenever he came over. Sure your cheeks were still flushed with fever, your eyes were watery, and your hair was a tangled mess, but you were still you. 

And he’d missed you more than he realized.

Ben felt the warm feeling that he always did whenever he was around you begin to bubble up. It was the same one that made him want to cut and run sometimes, a feeling that he couldn’t ever put a name to and hadn’t felt with anyone else before.

You try to nod, but stop when it makes you dizzy. “I thought I’d be better by the time you got home.” Your voice wheezes slightly and you pull the blankets up under your chin to fight the shiver that courses through you. 

Ben sighs looking at where you sit bundled in the bed, curled slightly in on yourself. “Sweetheart-” He sits down. “I know that I’m not the easiest man to be around, but you’re not going to gross me out.” He gently pushes back more of the hair stuck to your sweaty forehead and you lean into Ben’s touch, sighing softly. “You can’t help that you’re sick.”

“But I look-”

“You look beautiful.” Ben mutters, before moving his hand down from your forehead to your back. “Now, no more talking. I want you to get some sleep.” 

“But-”

“Baby.” Ben says sternly, but it doesn’t hold the same weight, not when he’s trying his hardest not to fold you up into his chest and run you to the hospital himself. “You need to sleep.”

“I have to finish my presentation-”

“No.” He pushes away the laptop, shutting it with a loud slap and he hopes that he didn’t break it. "You need to sleep. It'll make you feel better."

Then again, maybe that’s better. Better I fucking break it than her do work like this. I’ll buy her a new one when she’s better.

You’re too tired to fight him, eyes blinking away sleep. “Okay.” Your voice slurs a little as you sink deeper into the blankets, and Ben’s hand continues to rub soft circles into your back. It’s the only thing that he can think of to do. 

You hum to yourself, hands curling in front of your face as you allow the warm touch of your boyfriend’s hand, soothe you. 

And just when he thinks that you’ve fallen asleep he hears you whisper:

“I love you Ben.”

Ben’s entire body tenses with the words, his hand slowing to a stop against your back. He waits for you to say something else, to laugh or giggle, say "just kidding," but all you do is slip deeper into sleep. It’s the first time that you’ve ever said it to Ben, and the first time that Ben has heard those words in over forty years. 

The warm feeling begins to creep back in again the longer he sits there with you.

He stares down at where you lie listening to your heartbeat begin to slow, watching your breath come in gentle gasps, watching the way you curve towards where he’s sitting subconsciously while you sleep as if you wish to be closer to him all the time, and noticing the way the end of your lips pull up in a smile. 

And there in the darkness of your bedroom, while you’re asleep, and no other living soul can hear him, Ben allows himself this one indulgence, to say the one little thing that he’d never admit he was afraid to do. 

“I love you too Sweetheart.” He murmurs, continuing to rub his hand in soft circles on your back. 

When he's sure that you're asleep, Ben shrugs off his jacket and pulls out his cellphone. There was only one person that he could think of to call at a time like this. As much as he didn't want to, Ben needed someone to tell him what to do.

“What the fuck do I do if someone has a cold?” Ben says as loudly as he dares into the phone.

“Ben?” Hughie answers mildly confused. Ben never called him, ever, but Ben believed that Hughie was just the kind of pussy to know how to deal with something like this. 

“Yeah fuck-face it’s me.”

“Um-”

“Tell me what the fuck to do if someone has a cold!” Ben repeats, but then lowers his voice just a little bit so as not to wake you up. His eyes flick down to where you’re lying, but you don’t stir. 

“Fine.” Hughie sighs on the other side of the line, used to the way Ben spoke to him. Hughie had given up trying to be friends with him months ago. “You should get a pen.”

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think! 😊

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @zepskies @waynes-multiverse

[chrisisvbun]

guilty as sin. logan howlett x bunny!femreader

synopsis: after realizing that Jean wasn't really the best option, Logan decides it's time for him to forget about dating and shit and try to put his libido on being an xmen (tho he'll never confess it). That until, in a mission, they find the most dangerous mutant... a bunny mutant.

cw: age gap (logan is 35-40, reader is 25-30); a bit of chasing game; dom!Logan; mention of prostitution, killing, poison, seizures, non-con and neglection; brat!reader but also really submissive; reader goes by she/her, afab terms used top; animalistic stuff like heats, and scents and shit; logan's wolf side is exaggerated; reader is much smaller than Logan; albin!reader and her appearence its described; smut, creampie, praise kink, really animalistic, slight fingering, unprotected p in v. red coded character bcs logan has a type, obviously. A bit of ooc!Logan sorry.

words: 4.3k

second.

"Show yourself!" Scott's shout echoed in the big house.

"Sure, now they're gonna show themselves, of course." Logan teased, which only earned him a dirty look from Cyclops. "Relax, glasses, I'm sure t-"

Whatever tease was about to come out from Logan's lips was interrupted by the sound of wood cracking. Scott, Jean, Ororo and him looked around, but the first three moved their eyes to Logan, who was the one with sharp audition.

The mission requires the four best mutants of Xavier. The mutant they were chasing was, apparently, the most dangerous mutant around at that time, nobody knew how they looked like, because they were really quiet when killing with some type of poison. The four heroes were expecting any type of lizard or reptile, or a mutant that had poison abilities, so they tried to be as cautious as possible.

Logan looked at began sniffing around, too. I have smelled prey. It was a scent that he had smelled back when he was in the mountains, but never again until that second. He frowned, confused, and wrinkled his nose more like that would help distinguish the source.

"What is it—" Scott asked.

"Sh."

"What is it, Logan?" Jean asked.

Logan sniffed a bit more before answering. "Meat."

"Huh?" Storm said. "Meat?"

Another creek.

Everyone turned their head to try finding the source of the sound. Logan seemed to find it and began approaching slowly to the pile of wood in the corner of the house.

"You can come out."

No answer.

"Come out." He ordered. But still no answer.

It is public knowledge that Logan was not a man of much patience, he snaps quickly, just like now. He dumped the pile of wood away with his claws, to expose the creature behind it.

Everything they expected: a lizard, a reptile, a poison mutant, everything evaporated in the mere thought when Logan saw those long, white, fluffy, bunny ears falling on the sides of your pale face.

Logan frowned, confused. "This is the most dangerous mutant?" He chuckled as he retracted his claws.

You, a bunny mutant, were shaking in tour place, wrapped around yourself while you looked at Logan with eyes bright with fear.

Yeah, a bunny mutant, that's why he smelled meat, why he smelled prey.

"Don't worry, bub. 'not gonna hurt you." He said, looking at you up and down. He reached his forearm for you to grab like he was to scared to put his hands on you in case he would break you. You sniffed at his arm a bit, your flat pink nose moving up and down quickly as you took in his scent.

Shyly, you put your small pale hands on his big forearm and lifted yourself.

Logan didn't miss a chance to check your appearance. You had pale skin, a pinkish hue in your elbows, shoulders, nose, and cheeks, your eyes were big and red, bright as two rubies, your hands were small, you were small in general, and your body was so tiny in comparison to his. So delicate, like porcelain. Like it's been mentioned before, you had a flat, pink nose that wrinkled whenever you began sniffing something, and your pale face was between two long, fluffy, white bunny ears. Logan also noticed how your arms, legs, neck, face, and whole body were covered in a white, soft fur. When you turned around to see the rest of the team, Logan saw your round, fluffy, white bunny tail lifting the back of your short dress.

Wait, a short, slik dress? In a house like this?

Logan instantly frowned, glancing at his team with you still gripping at his forearm.

"Logan, careful." Scott stood in front of Jean, trying to protect her.

"You want to protect her from this?" Logan chuckled, pointing at you. "Sure thing, bub."

"Charles said we were going to meet the most dangerous mutant around..." Jean said.

"I'm sorry, but that doesn't look that dangerous..." Storm crossed her arms, looking at you, smiling at the sight of your white curly hair falling messigly through your shy, scared eyes.

"Why would they say she is dangerous when she looks like this?" Scott put his hands in his waist.

"I don't know, but they seem harmless to me too" Jean peeked through Scott's figure.

"More like a scared little creature rather than a dangerous mutant, yeah" Storm kneeled a bit.

While they talked, Logan was looking at your tail. Yeah, he was almost ignoring your round, fat ass, just looking at your puffy tail. Out of instinct, he moved his hand to touch it, grabbing it in his hand and squeezing a bit, gently.

"Soft..." He mumbled.

Yeah. He better have enjoyed it, because in the second you felt a strange hand from someone who smelled like a predator grabbing your tail from behind, you sank your nails in his chest, the red poison getting in his system for long enough to make Logan faint , but not enough to kill him, just because Scott managed to shoot some tranquilizer in your neck.

(...)

Logan woke up in the nurse bed of the mansion. Because it was a familiar situation, he just stood up, plugged the wires off and walked out, grabbing his white top that was on the chair.

As soon as he had his shirt on, his searched for the team until he found them at Charles office, where he barged in.

"What a pleasant entrance" Scott said in a mumbled, which made Logan roll his eyes.

"What the hell happened and where the fuck is that bunny bitch?" Logan frowned.

"Relax, Logan, we will explain everything" Charles said.

The explanation had a bit of a lore. You were victims of a group of men that experimented with babies to turn them into mutants. But these weren't any men, and they didn't want any mutants. We are talking about pimps indeed, and they decided, after investigating the porn industry for a long time, to create women that had everything a nasty, kinky man would want, they created a mutant for every fetish a man could imagine. For example, a bunny woman. Of course, they also took their time to perfect this and made them age slower, so even though you were close to thirty, you hardly looked twenty. And obviously, they didn't do it for the hell of it, clients paid big amounts of money to have a scent of you. Men took their time to praise you before taking you over and over again. You were desired and you hated it.

This went through since you were fifteen, of course in this type of industry, age was the last thing they cared about. And they had you in the worst conditions ever, not just you, because it wasn't just you. There were too many women in those conditions, in that situation. To say a number, you once counted fifty in one room, and there were more than forty rooms, you do the math. all stacked, one over the other in not enough beds, crying, suffering, your bodies bruised, dirty, abused.

Logan couldn't help but feel bad. Bad is an understatement. Awful. Because how such a delicate, pure thing like you could have gone through that? He was furious.

The end of the story is that the tools those men used to turn you into a mutant had... imperfections, which caused your defensive ability. You had a chemical that they've used on the creation of your mutation running through your blood and you were able to expulse it through your fingertips, so when you sank your nails into someone's flesh, the poison went through your nails to get to that person's system, causing a seizure that led them to death, of course.

Thanks to Logan's healing abilities, that didn't happen, but Logan noticed how you were determined to do it, to kill him, how scared you were of, not him, but every single man that laid his hands on you without your consent.

The reason why you were in that silk, dark green dress, that covered your body till half way of your thigh, was that that was the last 'meeting' you had with a man. You had been convocated to get to that cabin with another woman, before that happened, the pimps were already suspecting that you were the one that was killing all of their clients, and you suspected that you weren't gonna go home after that 'meeting' in the cabin with a regular.

Thinking about it, you didn't mind the sex. The clients were usually handsome men, and because you were 'the bunny girl' they've always praised you over and over again, you were the pretty bunny, you were a delicate feather, they didn't want to break you, even the ones that had a corruption kink. You were the premium meat, that's what they used to call you when selling you, you were available for the best and only the best clients. You were the luckiest, and the one that worked harder, because you would've gotten touched and fucked at least two times a day. The thing that made you sick was the context, you knew that you would love to fuck those men if you would've done it willingly, but the mere thought of someone paying to have the freedom to use you made you sick. Why? You didn't understand, they were handsome men, and they could've found a pretty woman like you in a bar if they wanted. But no, why? Because they wanted the bunny. The fat prize.

But when the pimps began suspecting, the type of men that you were given to began to be worse, not because they were ugly, but because they were less kind. This last client was one of those, and for your luck, this girl that came with you was one of your closest friends, a girl that was also a hybrid, an orange cat hybrid. And the mess started.

The second the client began to get violent, you sank your claws into his shoulders and watched him faint above you. In that second, the security of the pimps walked in and tried to get rid of you, making a mess in the house till you managed to get rid of all. You were punched and bruised, fortunately, no open wounds, but you were exhausted. Your friend got rid of the bodies and said they were going to find help, but never came back. You thought she got caught, and that's why she never came back, but a part of you feared that maybe she just ran away and left you there.

Anyway, that's how you ended up there, in that dress, covered in that mess of a house. Logan couldn't believe what he was hearing, the team always thought they could avoid all of the mutants' pain, but they didn't know half of them to even start thinking about saving them.

"She is going to stay, of course. Not only for her safety but also because we have to get as much information as we can of this sick business" Charles explained.

And that's what happened. Logan stepped in the kitchen where you were sitting peacefully, with a bowl of cereal, binging at it like it was your last meal. The second your gazes connected, you couldn't help to get embarrassed and put the bowl down, sitting straight as looking at him. "Hi." You mumbled shyly.

"Hi there, bun." He smiled. Not just you but everyone was surprised that he wasn't mad at you.

"I'm sorry... that I tried killing you... you scared me" You said, playing with your spoon.

Logan chuckled. "That's okay, bunny, it's in the past." He leaned on the counter, you had a grey jumper with the school logo, and grey sweatpants and you were barefoot, your toes didn't even reach the floor. "That jumper suites you."

"You think I'm a prey." You talked on top of him. A silence built between you two, and you broke it. "You are a wolf, aren't you?"

"Yes and no, sweetheart." He sighed. "You do smell like a good piece of meat, tho"

You frowned a bit. "A piece of meat?"

Logan pressed his lips in a line. "Yeah, that didn't sound pretty well, did it?"

"Surely didn't" You put your plate on the sink next to him, and he took his time to see your tail peeking between your jumper and your sweatpants.

"It was soft, you know?" He cleared his throat.

"I live with it 24/7" You said, putting your clean plate in the dryer before looking at him. "Of course I know it's soft."

Logan chuckled. "Careful with your tone, rabbit".

You raised an eyebrow, not really enjoying the tease. "Dumb wolf." You muttered before walking to your room.

You didn't like him, yeah. But he? Oh, he craved you.

(...)

Slowly, you began to adapt to your new life. It was hard, you went through a life in which you were neglected and abused, to one where you had anything you could ask for.

Months came by, and Xavier asked you to coordinate the art club, which you gladly did since you loved art.

You hung out a lot with Ororo, Kurt, surprisingly Logan (more like joking, teasing and mocking you until you git comfortable enough to through them back at him), and the kids, you didn't avoid the rest, but you were pretty shy, so you didn't approach them.

But of course, you couldn't ignore the times were Logan stood in the doorframe of your classroom and watched you teach the kids, your apron covered in paint as you tried to help the teens and the little ones to paint on their canvases. You also couldn't ignore the way he smiled at you, always saying that he is just checking that Rouge is having a good time.

You also noticed how mad he would get whenever you spoke to Kurt in the library, how would you look up at him, accommodating your white hair behind your ear as you smiled. He could get so pissed with just that, so furious because he wanted those smiles, he wanted to see your skin wrinkle around your red eyes standing in front of you, looking at you, having you looking at him.

Having you.

Gosh, what was wrong with him?

It was something primal that got him whenever he saw your white body hair, or whenever he saw you in the living your, cutting your dresses so you could accommodate your pompom tail, or whenever you watched television with Ororo in the TV room, surrounded by the kids, wearing some cozy pajamas.

He didn't put a single finger on you, tho. He has never touched that hairy skin of your, tho he craved it.

He couldn't understand if he sexually wanted you or if he was just so desperate for your attention. Maybe both. Maybe none... no, definitely both, yeah.

He could dream about you for a week, about having you in his arms, sometimes not doing anything, just running his hands through your fur up and down slowly, petting you, showing you how much of him you had. Other nights, he was just fantazising about parting your wet cunt in half with his cock.

He is not guilty, he thinks, it's normal. Although, he was indeed thinking like a teen.

One of sleepover nights, he was drinking a coke with Bobby in the kitchen, hearing you laugh and chat with Ororo and the rest of the kids until he just heard your voice and Rouge's. Both boys stood up and peeked through the living room, seeing all the kids and Ororo sleeping, one girl had her head in your lap as you caressed her ginger hair softly. When both of you heard them approach, you turn to them and giggled.

"What's so funny?" Bobby asked Rouge.

"Nothing, nothing" she giggled, looking at the white-haired one.

"Wolf, help me get the kids to bed" you said, passing right by him with a girl in your hands.

Logan sighed, pressing his tongue in the inside of his bottom lip. "Yes, ma'am" he said, and grabbed one kid in his arms.

"Bobby, Marie, you too. Go to sleep, come on." You said, both kids sighed and nodded.

When everyone was all tucked in at their rooms (including Ororo) you began climbing upstairs.

"Bunny."

You flipped around, looking at him with those big eyes he loved so bad.

"Hm..."

Some way, you were sitting on the counter, him in a chair of the kitchen table, both drinking from your cola bottles silently. He couldn't take his eyes from you, you are wearing a red silk pajama, thin straps held your breasts from peeking out from that thin fabric, and the scent of your exposed skin was driving him mad. He was about to get feral, that a sure thing. And seeing your white-haired thighs brushing against each other as you bounced your lega in the counter wasn't helping him either.

"So..." He started, trying to distract himself. "You adapted pretty well" he took a sip.

"Uh-hum." You said, playing with the straw of your bottle. "Ororo and Kurt helped a lot."

Logan grumbled at the mention of the German. "Yeah, Kurt..."

"Yeah, Kurt." You repeated with a giggle at his disgusted tone. "What's the matter with him?"

"Nothing, nothing, he is just a weirdo".

"We are all weirdos here, Logan" You laughed, taking a sip.

"He is just a guy with weird eyes and fur, no big deal." He rolled his eyes.

You raised your eyebrows. "What am I then?" You crossed your legs.

Logan looked at you, the white fur in your bare legs and your red big eyes, and he chuckled.

"You don't want me to answer that, bunny." he drank the whole bottle.

"No, please, illuminate me, wolf." You crossed your arms too. "Because last time I checked I also have a strange eye color and fur all over. What am I?" You got off the counter, still crossing your arms as you looked at him cleaning the glass bottle.

He put it on the counter with a dry noise, looking down at you with a small smirk.

"You are a beautiful, small, vulnerable, delicious bunny with gorgeous ruby eyes and fucking cutest fur i've ever seen" He smiled as biting his lip, looking down at you, taking long steps to approach to you, as you stepped back. "You happy?"

"What makes you think I'm delicious?" You asked, stepping into the wall.

Logan chuckled dryly again. "Out of all the things I said, you kept that?" He laughed. "Damn rabbit, you know well that I can smell how sweet you are."

"I don't." You stepped firm, crossing your arms, looking at him. You tried to stay firm but as you could smell him, he obviously could scent your arousal. He was laughing at you.

He sighed exaggerating, looking at you up and down. "You smell really good, bunny, and you are so tiny too, you know how much I'm restraining myself to not scoop you up?" He kept teasing you, loving how, with every word, you were squeezing harder against nothing.

He got closer, one hand on the wall and the other moving up your thigh, not touching you. You looked confused and he looked up at you, pausing everything.

"May I?" He asked, your felt your breath hitch in your throat as you nodded, you could've came right there. God, he was doing the bare minimum and he was so hot while that.

"Yeah..." You answered in a nod.

His hand pressed against your thigh, his fingertips squeezed around the white hair of your leg, he smiled at the feeling. "So soft, such a soft flesh, bunny. I could devour you."

God, please do. You didn't know why or when Logan became so hot, maybe all the teasing, all the mocking, and all the jokes were a way for you guys to mate. You don't really care now, your throbbing pussy either. You don't remember if you got this wet when he asked to touch you, when he called you delicious, when he asked you to have a drink with him in the kitchen or when he peeked through the living room wearing that tight white top that showed his huge tanned shoulders so perfectly. Definitely the last one, yeah.

His hand began to climb up, your hands gripped his shoulders as your breath got heavier. His touch was gentle and soft, like you were made out of porcelain. His hands touched your center, that point were your lips touched against each other again in your juicy pussy, he chuckled in a mocking tongue. "What got you so wet, bub? I didn't even started" He said in your mouth, laughing on top of your lips.

Your body began to warm up, your whole body began to get so hot and sweaty as his fingers bullied your clothed entrance. "That's it, that's a good bunny. 'M getting you all ready for me, I don't need you wet for this, I need you dripping" He was teasing you so bad, mocking your reactions at his fingers in your most sensitive part. When you frowned, he did the same, when you opened your mouth to moan, he would imitate you too. "Such a pretty little thing, getting all wet for your mate."

"Logan, please..."

"Please what, rabbit?" He pushed the clothes covering your heat.

"Please! I need..." You tried to talk, but moaned loudly.

"You need what, bunny? Use that pretty mouth of yours." He used his free hand to squeeze your cheeks until your mouth was opened. "Gosh, one day I'm gonna fill that mouth of yours. I want this beautiful lips around some good stuff, but not now, sweetheart, I need to show you what you are here for, bun'".

(...)

Your face was pressed on the cold counter of the kitchen, your mouth drooled your saliva as you tried to speak, only being able to babble some incoherent words. Your saliva was mixing with your pleasure and pain tears, because Logan was gripping your bunny ears tight from behind as he thrusts against your wet, tight pussy. His free hand us pressing your middle back, making you arch your spine, giving him the best angle ever as you cried and moaned.

His tip was hitting your cervix perfectly, your velvety insides were squeezing him tight, almost sucking him in. He groaned every time he thrusted his hips against your ass, the kitchen getting filled with the wet noises of his balls against your skin. He looked down to the spot where his cock disappeared inside of you, the ring of precum mixed with your slick in his base.

Your toes hurt as you were on your tiptoes and your nails scratched the marble of the counter in desperation as he quicked his pace.

"Gosh, bunny, so freaking tight..." He growled under his breath. Even though you had been fucked a lot, you were still so tight inside, and he was going nuts about it.

He moved the hand that he had in your back to your low stomach, caressing your womb and almost moaning at the feeling of his tip pressing against it.

"Taking me so freaking well, gosh." He bit his lip and closed his eyes as he kept fucking you.

You were so cock drunk from him, you had a very sexual life but no cock had opened you so well like Logan's did. Not only it was huge, but also it was so warm that almost felt like a cuddle for your insides. From now on, you are sure that you'll get wet with just the thought of his warm, fat cock inside of you.

"Please..." you cried and drooled, Logan chuckled, his eyes still closed.

"Please what, rabbit?" He teased.

You moved your hips in circles and he pulled your ears more, making you lift your head from the counter.

"Words." He ordered.

" 'm gonna come..." You managed to say, hissing in a beautiful pain. "M-may I?"

So fucking polite, he thought.

"I couldn't deny you that, no when you asked so nicely, bun'" He smiled widely and bit his lip, starting to fuck you almost brutally. "Come on my cock, be a good bunny."

You screamed at his new pace, your hands gripping the edge of the counter, crying pathetically when his cock began hitting your sweet point.

He was looking for your pleasure desperately, he wanted you to feel so good, so drunk in him. And god he was being successful, you had never been so well fucked, he was taking great care of you.

It didn't take you much longer to come in his cock, your body shivering as saliva dripped on the counter with your tears, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you tensed your body and your pussy began dripping your release.

You didn't notice you were about to wall in the ground until Logan hugged your waist and flush you against him completely, filling you with his seed, you swear you heard him moan in your ear as he did, even though he is sure he doesn't moan.

He leaned against the table for a second, still hugging you and panting heavily. His hand caressed your belly with lazy patterns.

"Too rough?" He asked. You denied.

"Just perfect." You answered breathlessly, he huffed a smile. "Thanks."

"Anytime, bunny."

"I have a name, you know?" You chucked a bit.

"Bunny suits you better." He kissed your shoulder. "Let's get you cleaned up so you can rest that pretty ass for yours." You laughed as he lifted you, grabbing your princess style to walk you to your room.

[chilschuck]

I NEED CHILCHUCK+LAIOS WITH A LANA DEL REY CODED READER!!!!!

Recently I've been listening to Lana del Rey's music and it's just.... Ethereal, ethereal and melancholic.

So, I would like reader to have a similar vibe, you know? She looks ethereal, the type of gorgeous that you doubt if she is real or just a hallucination, but also melancholic. Something about her just always looks a little sad and lost in thought.

She's also gentle, like a mother's embrace, she's soft spoken (bonus if she also sings and has a similar voice like Lana)

But if you had listened to Lana's music (which I think you have) she has a ton of slightly suggestive music, so maybe she's also a bit flirty and playfull.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ anon you have no idea what you have done to me. i hadn’t listened to her music in depth but now i am HOOKED. AND THIS IDEA WAS SO FUN TO WRITE FOR???? god bless you…….. i hope hcs are okay! i went a little ham on them, lol. even put lyrics i thought fit them in a way! i hope this is what you were wanting, and thank you so much for your request!!! <3

— HEADCANONS: lana del rey coded reader.

୨୧ i’ve got my eye on you. (say yes to heaven!)

꒰ charas: ꒱ LAIOS & CHILCHUCK.

꒰ wc: ꒱ 852

꒰ rating: ꒱ sfw + fem!reader.

✦ once again, sorry if anything seems ooc. i had too much writing this and blasting her music, LOL. and a special thank you to my love jackie for reading over it for me!!! WAHH

— LAIOS: “i can see my sweet boy swaying.”

✦ The first time he lays eyes on you, he has to ask himself if he’s dreaming. Certainly he must be, with the way the world just seems to stop whenever you’re around. There’s an air of mystery there, and when your eyes flit up to meet his, he’s captivated.

✦ It’s not just your beauty that enraptured him; I like to think he saw a depth in you he hadn’t seen before. Maybe he was drawn to the way you always looked almost… wistful, longing… Sad. But there was a beauty in sadness, wasn’t there? The way you still moved about so captivatingly while seeming so far away in those eyes… It was breath-taking.

✦ Laios definitely thinks you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen. It’s haunting almost, the way your hair frames your face and the silkiness of your voice. The first time you spoke to him, he knew he would beg you to do it again. You’re soft-spoken, a voice that carries so much weight for him. Say the word, and he’s there.

✦ I don’t think anything could’ve prepared him for your playfulness. You leave little ghosting touches down his arms and back when he’s deep in thought, only fueling his speculation that you’re just his imagination. Maybe you even whisper his name, having it bleed from your lips in that way of yours that makes his skin erupt in goosebumps. Press your lips against his ear and hum his name, only to pull away with that grin on your face. Watch as he opens his mouth to say something, anything, cheeks red as he swallows. (I think teasing him would be a lot of fun, especially when he’ll just buckle.)

✦ The first time Laios hears you sing, his head seems to spin. Direct it at him, sing for him, and he might just melt. Maybe you don’t even mean for him to hear you the first time, but now it’s something he longs for.

✦ Aside from the teasing and flirting, you’re gentle. Almost painfully so, your touch too sweet for him to fathom. Look at him with those distant eyes and cup his cheeks in your palms, your sweet boy, and he instantly leans into your embrace. Pull him in, hold him close, maybe even sway just a bit as you hum. I think you’ll really make him feel like he’s dreaming, then.

— CHILCHUCK: “be my once in a lifetime.”

✦ Don’t blame him if you catch him staring. The first time he sees you, Chilchuck falters. Is it possible for someone to be this beautiful? Ethereal seemed to be an understatement, especially when your gaze met his.

✦ We know Chilchuck doesn’t like to let too much show; this man is repressed. Even so, you draw something out of him. You’re deep like an ocean, dark like its depths, strong like the tide. He doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but maybe this is as close as it gets.

✦ He feels like he could drown in you. Your voice, your eyes, your touch. You’re gentle in all the right ways, especially in the way you speak. Chilchuck has heightened senses, and you please every single one of them. When you first decided to talk to him, he couldn’t believe how soft your voice really was. Say his name and he just about can’t take it.

✦ You drive him up the wall when you tease him. You know he loves to hear you speak, and when you let that playfulness bleed into your tone, he’s smitten. Flirt with him and you might just get a red faced half-foot in the palm of your hands. Your embrace is what really makes his head spin. Pull him close to your chest with your addicting touch and he might just never let you go.

✦ Chilchuck longs for genuine affection like this, revels in it. If you give that to him, even just a taste, he comes back for more. It goes without saying that your voice when you sing has him almost gasping for air. How can someone look this gorgeous, sound this breathtaking? Pull him back to reality with you, remind him this isn’t some sort of cruel trick on his mind.

✦ Chilchuck doesn’t like to see your saddened gaze, even if it’s only there in fleeting moments. You’re melancholic, he knows that, and for some reason it just makes him want to dive deeper. Are you hiding things like he is? Maybe there’s an unsaid connection there with that shared knowledge. Chil lets himself go when he’s meeting your gaze, all that emotion he bottles up doesn’t seem to matter when he’s with you.

✦ Going back to your gentle touch, he just about crumbles under you. Imagine how tightly he’s wound, how long he’s craved some sort of connection like he has with you. Chilchuck, when he’s alone with you, lets himself get lost in thought too. But instead of painful memories and the tasks at hand, he drowns in your embrace and wonders how he ever went this long without someone like you.