#reader fem

[alessabriel]

And it didn't.

Summary: with the scars left by civil conflict, of broken relationships and shattered bridges the years passed, and she was finally caught up with the consequences of what she did.

Cw: NO CAITVI, angst for Caitlyn, post arcane 2 and my soft imaginings, Vi x Reader.

✄ — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Caitlyn had lost herself and neither time, nor regret could bring back the people she lost what was important to; I saw the one she pushed away so many times because of that stupid instinct to see her down for being from Zaun who contaminated and infected her, Jayce who even though I told her everything was resolved I still saw that resentment in her eyes and did not blame, her father still loved her and was there for her but in his eyes at times there was a disappointment so palpable that it hurt to see her because she had destroyed what her mother worked so hard for costing lives in Zaun. She knew that her owner and suffering was not justification, it would never be, just as she knew that she had made many decisions that were wrong and even today, at 35 years old, they still haunt her, stalking her in every free moment to think, in every corner of her psyche and heart, it is a curse that would never leave her and she accepted it, she let the remorse bite her skin, scratch her bones fragmenting them until it reached the organs underneath and stay there forever. Not that all Zaunites' looks at her were better or let her forget what she had done in the past, they all looked at her with a well-hidden and civilized rancor, which, in contrast to what happened years ago showed that Zaunites were not animals.

"It's in your blood, it will always be in your blood!"

These are words that still to this day follow her relentlessly, spoken to a woman who stood by her side unflinchingly, daring to wear the uniform of the very beings who murdered her parents, who oppressed her for years and who were part of Zaun's continuing misfortune. Vi wore the uniform and became an enforcer for her, and a with it at that moment, after a shared kiss hurt her and it was not the blow that hurt the most, but hearing Vi cry at the bottom of the well and left her without looking back, at that moment she never regretted it and thought she deserved it for not letting Vi go, she herself pushed her away. Now, as Sheriff with Piltover restored and Zaun in better condition after joining forces to drive away Noxus and his threat, she is surprisingly alone. She had managed to catch Jinx and served her sentence, helped restore Piltover as part of that sentence but even with everything Jinx was never left alone but was supported by all of Zaun and, to her own selfish pain; For Vi, Vi was in the process of Jinx's improvement and her mental treatment, when she was imprisoned and released by herself, she watched as Vi received her and although there was an uncomfortable air Vi saw her with a filial love and bright, shy accompanied by Ekko, Sevika, Isha and another person who did not hesitate to embrace Jinx. Even Jinx even with all the crimes on her list, she had so many people surrounding her and she on the other end just and Sheriff was alone, she knew it was her own fault.

There was a sea of guilt that was always at her feet, threatening on her worst days with a huge swell, monstrous waves that threatened to swallow her whole and sometimes she wished they would but, it would be selfish not to bear the consequences of her actions.

The council had been renewed for the sake of progress since they all had such archaic and cruel ideas by the next leaders of those same houses who were young, people who saw beyond prejudices and painted a difference, a before and an after. A renewed council, like Piltover, with Jayce and Mel at the head, but there were two representatives of Zaun who never showed up leaving two chairs together empty in their name. They had all changed, Piltover finally after seeing how hundreds of Zaunites risked themselves to drive Noxus away without caring about coming back alive showed them how much damage they inflicted on their twin city.

Damage she contributed to, added to, and how it tainted her mother's contribution so that the Zaunites could breathe.

She hated herself but dared not ask for forgiveness, because she did not deserve it and she knew it.

She lives each day mechanically in the Enforcers base office, and with documentation up to her neck, in a cold and monotonous rhythm until that day came, a day where Loris was coming to visit her as she had not agreed to stay in the Enforcers corps with the others but rather, was sentinel in Zaun an organization created by two people in Zaun along with other creations that Zaun did not have before.

"Wow, you're still dating the paperwork Sheriff?" questions Loris, walking into the office with a lazy smile looking at the paperwork by the pile.

"Let's just say they're nice dates" replies Caitlyn, inviting him to sit down, it's the little visits and sincere interactions he has that let him see that he kept too good people away from his surroundings because even Seb kept her at a distance, Maddie walked away from her after he had used her to forget Vi; spoiler he never could, Vi as soon as the conflict ended and the trials came she didn't return to Piltover, so Loris was the only one who still maintained some pleasant air between the two "Something going on? You usually come over on Fridays when I go out for a drink together."

Caitlyn looks at her former partner and notices it, a nervous uneasiness almost shy about how she keeps herself hidden and how Loris tries to keep the air light, jovial and pleasant. Loris was a very short time active part of the Enforcerd but damn but he was a good element and the Sentinels would take a good element. She watches silently as her former partner takes a seat, but it never goes unnoticed the conflicted eyes of the man in front of her and she honestly can't blame him as Loris is one of Vi's best friends and continuing to talk to her feels like some sort of betrayal, or so Caitlyn assumes.

"Well, I'm not wasting your time with my humble visit Sheriff" she concedes, lightening the mood and tension, pulling out a simple envelope sealed with wax and a unique flower that only grows in Zaun "Consider coming, she asked me to deliver it to you."

Caitlyn with that, spends the rest of the day dreading opening the letter leaving it on her office bookshelf as if it has the toxic and poisonous in it, so at the end of her day with the evening light streaming in through the glass she plucks up her courage. She sits up from her chair and takes the letter, it is made of a soft and in plain sight recycled paper but it has a fresh floral scent, with some fear creeping up her joints she opens it using the letter opener seeing how the black wax falls on her desk next to the small single flower of Zaun that she takes and keeps it, inside the envelope is a paper folded in three and when she opens it something stirs in her gut with such force that she feels her organs pushed into her bones and the physical exterior of her body, she restrains herself and swallows the bile to start reading, though she knows that doomed her because she suspects it is.

† Violet and [R] †

Just reading that line generated an immense, monumental dismay in him, had he stopped loving Vi? She didn't want to know the answer because it would hurt, because when she pushed Vi away, making her feel guilty for everything, guilty for not being able to stop loving her sister in spite of everything, what was she thinking back then? Making her choose implicitly only served to further establish the imbalance and mistrust in whatever it was they had, and lo and behold the consequences years of loneliness and minimal, if any interactions with Vi that were for matters merely concerning both cities. At the very thought, the very image of it tightens her chest.

Vi was getting married and he was inviting her to his wedding, with a +1.

She dropped into her chair, tossing the pretty invitation on the desk before scrunching up her face, stressed, hurt, regretful and with an amalgam of feelings of self-pity and cruelty towards herself for the past, for the hatred her being since she was a child had harbored towards Zaunitas which only incubated until it exploded that fateful day where she took it out on Vi, took it out on a woman who knew how to read her better than she did herself and prevented her from doing something she would regret more. He knew he could not give, if he would fail as Vi said but his pain did not allow him to see, understand, or comprehend. His hands tremble running it over his face in an attempt to get rid of that mutilating feeling in his chest, and he feels the pain climb up his bones, Vi was going to marry someone and by name it's a woman; [R]. A short, concrete text, a wedding which will be held in the newly opened temple of Janna, signed below in sweet, flowing calligraphy in Violet's name, next to another straighter, linear calligraphy signing with [R]. They sure did that cute thing of writing each other's name would Vi love her? Would that unknown woman love Vi? How long had they been in a relationship? Did they love each other? Why was Vi inviting her?

She doesn't want to go.

[pmaxshay]

Love Conquers All

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader (Fem)

~ Part 2 ~ ~ Part 3 ~ ~ Part 4 ~ ~ Part 5 ~

~ Part 6 ~ ~ The End ~

~ Part 1 ~

Y/N strode into the ballroom, her Pa, Richard, on her arm acting as her chaperone for the evening. A surreal notion for Y/N as her Mama would always be the one to do so before now.

“Are you nervous?” Richard asked, a concerned scowl on his face. Like Y/N, this was a new, surreal feeling for him. His dear wife would always be the one to take on this role.

“Partly, but do not worry Pa. I will disguise the nerves with grace and hold my head high.” Y/N spoke with such confidence that even she was convinced by her words.

Richard smiled, a genuine one before ushering the two of them further into the room.

This was their first encounter with Mayfair and all its grandeur. Having moved away from the country recently they decided this was the best fresh start for them both.

A few eyes were cast their way as they made their debut. Lots of hushed whispers and words behind hands were shared between members of the Ton.

“I fear they mock me Pa.” Y/N mumbled, using her free hand to smooth down the front of her dress.

“If they mock it is only out of jealously my love. You are the most beautiful here.”

Y/N smiled shyly at her father’s kind words.

“You have to say that, you are my Pa.” Y/N sighed.

“I speak only in truths Y/N. You are eight and twenty years old. You should know this of me by now.” Richard chuckled, scooting the two of them over the marbled floor to stand away from the entrance.

Just as he did so, a lady came bounding over with such confidence. Y/N was impressed by how she seemed to carry herself, a cane by her side as she made strong strides.

“Good evening to you both.” The lady curtsied, to which Y/N and her father followed suit.

“Good evening.”

“Forgive me for being so blunt but I fear do not know either of you? I am Lady Danbury.” The stranger smirked slightly.

“No do forgive us. I am Lord Richard Pembrooke and this is my dear daughter Miss Y/N Pembrooke. We recently moved to Mayfair.” Y/N and her father both curtsied once more.

“Pleasure to meet you Lady Danbury.” Y/N cooed.

“Well… the pleasure is all mine. Mayfair has become somewhat ‘normal’ as of late. Some fresh blood may shake up this town. And if the fresh blood is as charming of face as you my dear, well… it will be very shaken up indeed.” Lady Danbury smirked once more, before spinning to stand next to the new members of the ton.

The three of them watched as couples waltzed around the dance floor, charmed smiles and nods shared between other members strewn around the room.

Through the doors across the room entered a large party. A beautiful, older lady strode in with a handsome man on her arm. Another equally handsome man behind, a younger lady on his left and an even younger lady on his right.

It’s like the room had to stop to take notice of them, everyone exchanging pleasantries with the new partygoers.

“Pardon me Lady Danbury but who might they be?” Y/N asked quizzically. The man with the two ladies on his arm catching her eye.

Danbury watched as Y/N’s eyes followed the man across the room. That familiar, cunning smirk on her face still.

“They Miss Pembrooke… would be the Bridgertons. A well endowed family, whom I am quite well acquainted with. Their mother Violet Bridgerton, Anthony on her arm, Benedict behind with Eloise and Hyacinth. Hyacinth being the youngest lady of the family.”

Y/N nodded and hummed, continuing to watch as the Bridgertons made their way around the room. She noticed that Violet took Hyacinth by the arm and paraded her around. Anthony accompanied them. Benedict sunk into the shadows with Eloise, the two of them laughing as they picked at the food.

“Quite the duo those two it seems.” Richard chuckled.

“They do make quite the double act. This is Eloise’s third year on the marriage mart. Although she would much rather be anywhere else. Likewise with Benedict.” Danbury stated.

“I do hope we may have hope for you Y/N? Hmmm?” Danbury continued, glancing over at Y/N.

“Oh.. I… uhhmm… my apologises but I am not interested in all of that. I am just happy at home with Pa and my books.”

Danbury glances between Y/N and her father with a disapproving stare.

“Hmm. Despite what society may lead us to believe, age may just be a number Miss Y/N. Do not count yourself out yet.” Danbury hummed, before exchanging her goodbyes to speak to other people.

Y/N glanced at her father.

“Well… she was quite the woman.” Richard coughed with a slight chuckle.

“She is… brilliant. If I am to be an old spinster I would like to be just like her.” Y/N announced proudly.

Despite the need to keep his daughter close and keep her in the nest, he knew Danbury was right. Y/N was an incredibly bright, beautiful woman and deserved to find love. Just as he had done with her mother.

“Lady Danbury has a point Y/N. As much as I would love to keep you at home for as long as I shall live…” Richard paused, realising the power of those last few words.

Y/N frowned slightly.

“Life is incredibly short my dear and you deserve to be happy. You also deserve to find love.”

Y/N huffed in annoyance before replying.

“I’ve told you Pa. I am not interested in love. Love is all well and good but it doesn’t last. Something always comes to destroy it. Take yourself and Mama. I do not want to experience that kind of heartbreak.” Y/N let go of her father’s arm and began to walk away in a huff.

Her feet carried her away from him and further into the grandness of the ballroom.

She was so distracted by what had just happened that she had not seen the handsome Bridgerton, known as Benedict, standing close by.

Her shoulder collided with his arm, causing them both to stumble but Benedict had managed to reach out his hands to steady Y/N in time.

“Steady. Are you alright?” Benedict cooed, staring directly at Y/N. His hands holding onto her arm.

“I… I… am… alright. Apologies.” Y/N mumbled out, curtsying rather clumsily.

Benedict smirked before releasing his grip and straightening up.

“Oh that is quite alright Miss…”

Y/N was just staring at him. She’d missed her queue to tell him her name.

“Y/N. Y/N Pembrooke!” She bowed once more.

“Y/N Pembrooke.” Benedict repeated in a soft whisper. The way he said her name and the hushed tones he used caused goosebumps to rise on Y/N’s skin.

Benedict now turned to his sister who had seen this whole event go down.

“Eloise do you know of the Pembrooke’s?” Benedict asked.

“I do not know. Are you someone new?!” The tone in Eloise’s voice had indicated that she was excited by the prospect of someone new in town.

“That would be correct. Myself and Pa just moved here from the country.” Y/N had also now straightened up.

“The country? We always visit when the season is over. How have we never crossed paths?” Eloise continued to quiz Y/N.

“I do not know.” Y/N chuckled at how giddy Eloise seemed to be. From first meetings it seemed Eloise would be a great confidant to have. Someone to rely on and possibly become friends with.

“Brother would we not have remembered such a face as Y/N?” Eloise pushed for Benedict to join back into the conversation. He had just been eating a handful of grapes as he stared at Y/N as she conversed with his sister.

He paused chewing and glanced between the two women now. A confused look on his face.

“What was that sister?”

Eloise grinned.

“We would have remembered someone like Y/N had we met before. Would we not?”

Benedict glanced between them once more. He most certainly would have remembered a face like Y/N. Her features were soft but her eyes seemed to tell a different story. He could see the hard, tough persona she seemed to have built. It was clear she was clever and carried herself well, a trait that Benedict couldn’t help but adore.

“I certainly would have.”

[nemmxx]

🕷 Stepdad Miguel O'Hara! Who is in an established relationship with your mother, thinks he loves her or feels the closest thing to love until he meets. She met you at the Spider Society headquarters with your suit still on; you were a gorgeous girl, a beautiful curvaceous body, a velvety voice that caressed her ears in a good way, exceptional humor but what seals the deal was how you could simply keep up with her on your first mission, you followed orders and the ones you didn't seem to like you defied it on solid grounds. You were a damn challenge that ignited something dull in himself and when he looked at you without the mask, embarrassingly he had a damn unchecked hard-on; delicate and soft features, you were beautiful and with a tender air that sweetened your image but that your mischievous eyes rendered toxically sweet. When he recruited you he had not listened well to your data, distracted by the way you fought, but he listened well after the mission to what land you came from and it sounded familiar, almost like deja vu (his fault that he was captivated by the mere image of her).

🕷 Stepdad Miguel O'Hara! I had had to work close to you since you were new to the headquarters but you seemed eager to learn, to collaborate and participate. You were someone pleasant but not invasive, optimistic but not bordering on over the top and with a particular sense of humor (always deny that you made him laugh a couple of times). But as the days went by and you went on missions together he noticed how you were somewhat similar to someone close, it was as if you shared something with someone you knew. Miguel didn't inquire any further, you asked for it and he complied with your request. So time went by and you were sneaking under his skin, between his ribs to get to his heart although he tried to stop it in a thousand possible ways because he was in a serious relationship but with every talk, glances met, shared anecdotes, signs of affection that respected his limits and shared time you just sneaked into his soul, it was impossible not to think of you.

🕷 Stepdad Miguel O'Hara! He had to pretend not to be surprised when he looked at you in his partner's house (at that moment he didn't know about your family) opening the door with a soft groan of irritation and recognized your voice, your scent and the rhythm created by your heartbeat. Miguel could only remain speechless and only admired you for a few seconds as you did, just an awkward exchange of glances (he never wants to remember that disconsolate look in your eyes). Only for the awkward moment to be cut short by your mother with hurried introductions and chatter in which everyone sat in the living room, things Miguel didn't hear because he kept his eyes on you; in short and somewhat disheveled pajamas (you were still cute), you both share a glance between the sea of words emerging from his partner and your mother, until he dares to say or rather ask you to call him 'papa' you just go with the flow with a tense smile, you say nothing either (he would never say what whipped his mind).

🕷 Stepdad Miguel O'Hara! He starts to get to know you more in the comfort of your home, and simply falls in love with you; every flaw, virtue, and particularity fascinated them. So he begins to spoil you with your tastes; if you mention that a food pleases you he goes out of his way to make it or take you to a restaurant to satiate that craving (he forces himself to ignore how your sweet whimpers when you taste his food are not reproduced when he was with your mother), if on a family outing he catches you looking at something in a shop window it only takes a day before you find him in your bed, and he begins to show you physical and emotional affection and to be present in your life in a special way. Your mother is on cloud nine, her new partner accepts her daughter without any problem and even does what your biological father never did.

🕷 Stepdad Miguel O'Hara! He is a total sweetheart to you, and that starts to play with your mind in a good way due to his specific attention, his innocent touches brushing against areas of your body that border on private and his lingering kisses, his lips making a nice steady pressure on your cheek, you fell at his feet (little did you know Miguel would be able to kiss the ground you walk on), and there is a small ember of guilt given that you love your mother but also hated her for her zero care for you and little to no interest in you as a daughter. It was a shame that she didn't want you as a daughter because you didn't want her as a mother either, so getting into your new stepfather's pants wasn't so much to blame. But all your mother could see was that her partner was affectionate with you, attentive and almost like the father you never had and she always smiled encouragingly at her partner's good treatment of you and you of her new partner, on that occasion you could only laugh as you carefully rubbed your butt in your stepfather's lap.

You had heard his breathing hitch as you brought the snacks for movie night and leaned across the table from him before falling into his lap. Through your heightened senses you could hear his racing heartbeat and when he placed his larger hands on your hips you felt your fingertips on his skin savoring the warmth and rapidity of his blood circulating in his veins as you settled better into his lap leaning against his broad, muscular chest. Miguel almost covered you completely, barely your head reached his collarbones and without foreseeing it you squeezed your legs together. You both suddenly relaxed when your mother and her partner came into the living room with the drinks (Miguel couldn't ignore the lack of the drink you asked him to bring you as a favor but his and hers). "I am so glad you two are getting along so well!" Joyfully exclaimed the woman taking a seat at the other end of the couch between pillows before handing father and daughter a blanket which the younger one put to cover her legs and those of the older one who let her sit on his lap. The older woman could only smile contentedly at seeing you so affectionate with your partner "Are you comfortable?" Feeling naughty you settled better on your mother's partner's lap and took him by the arms making him wrap you snugly, you wordlessly affirmed feeling Miguel affirm the same. For your mother it was a pleasant evening. For Miguel it was hell, his hands were intertwined with his fingers on your belly and he knew with your movements you were taking his hands between your legs under the blanket, as normally as if nothing was happening until his palm was covering your crotch where from time to time you were rubbing yourself in his hand. You were a warning in itself, but he didn't deny that he was getting turned on by how your sweet scent was intensifying and sweetening even more, he knew where that sweetish aroma that graced your normal scent came from; it was that of your honey emanating from your sweet pussy being made even more delicious by the racing beat of your heart. That day you both had ended up in hidden kisses in the kitchen when your mother was asleep on the couch, you felt guilty? They lied to each other saying yes when it wasn't so. ||

🕷 Stepdad Miguel O'Hara! That night when they kissed you had been chaste and innocent kisses, completely different from how Miguel touched you when he was hugging you, big hands squeezing your waist tightly and touching your ass mercilessly, almost as if he was taking the stress out bruising you.

🕷 Stepdad Miguel O'Hara! It was over breaking up when they are alone one night, you all pretty leaning against his side snuggled comfortably and relaxed with your small hand on his abdomen drawing circles on his t-shirt not paying much attention to him but by the way he had his hand on your hips without much intention he felt the thin strip of something over the waistband of your tiny shorts that barely covered the entirety of your ass, It was as if you really hypnotized him the instant he caught your bright gaze on his face, you smiled sweetly without looking away and it was as if there was magnetism between the two of you that you slowly came closer kissing each other. It had started innocently with chaste and harmless kisses, just your soft lips on his but Miguel felt how little by little you were handling him to your liking and way, until you were in his lap with his tongue deep in your mouth and his big hands groping you shamelessly. That day they could not continue as your mother interrupted him in the middle leaving you wet and him with an almost raging erection, but Miguel had reassured you before he left.

🕷 Stepdad Miguel O'Hara! Who begins to avoid your mother's affection on the pretext of being tired, which in itself is not as such a lie at all since he did get tired of his jobs and of an insatiable young girl who couldn't seem to get enough of him.

🕷 Stepdad Miguel O'Hara! He is ecstatic at how you are so bold to make out with him, with your tender tongue almost failing his mouth within earshot of your mother at the risk of being overheard (he can't ignore your infectious giggles between kisses) and hidden barely in the hallway. And he couldn't deny you anything with his hands on your sweet body, groping you hard and smacking your buttocks as punishment. It wouldn't do to get caught.

🕷 Stepdad Miguel O'Hara! He was intoxicated with you, you were the person who made him fall in love with just a blink of an eye and even more with how daring you were, how behind your mother's back at the table you bent over slightly spreading your legs in the kitchen where he could see you well to give him a clear view that you were wearing nothing under your skirt just your pretty little pussy on display to his eyes which distracted him from whatever he was talking to your mother and when your mother turned around you were gone. You were an expert at getting him hard in seconds.

🕷 Stepdad Miguel O'Hara! He fucked you for the first time at headquarters, at his desk he had just ripped your tight Spiderwoman costume at the crotch promising to give you a better costume.

Miguel walked his tongue all over your pussy from the drooling entrance to your little pearl to which he devoted more attentions feeling you trembling, he held your legs wide open feeling your strength to be reckoned with trying to close your pretty legs but he avoided it with his sheer strength too, he had to have space between them to be able to eat you as he had dreamed so much. Like a pretty girl like you deserved. He had lost count of the erections you gave him when you displayed yourself before his eyes; lifting up the skirts you liked to wear giving him views of the lack of panties or thongs that left little to the imagination, how he lifted your blouses behind your mother giving him a view of your perky tits or how you had hot kissing sessions near where your mother was. And now, in that instant he was finally tasting the delicious honey dripping from your sweet pussy on his tongue. "D-daddy I'm going to c-c-come" you whimpered squeezing his head between your thighs tighter and taking his calloused and larger hands between your hands intertwining his fingers tightly as you removed them from your legs. You felt so sensitive, as your body tensed and the knot in your belly tightened as it loosened, the beginnings of your orgasm were not the same as the ones you brought on yourself with your fingers this one ran from your head to your toes and you felt slightly frightened, it was so much that it managed to overwhelm you in a way you had never felt before, you squeezed his hands and closed your eyes clearing your vision only to have it cloud over again and it was so much, so much but you couldn't get enough "E-eat me more d-daddy." And that alone dictated a clear sentence for your battered body that convulsed in the major's mouth, almost riding his face in search of prolonging your climax. Miguel swallowed all that your sweet center oozed from your needy hole, every drop of honey he wiped with his tongue until you came down from your orgasmic stupor but kept rubbing your pussy over his mouth gently letting out soft, needy whimpers. "Did you like it my girl?" mockingly questioned Miguel getting up from his previous position without letting go of your beautiful hands, shamelessly licking his lips savoring the last drops of your sweet climax catching you self-conscious. You barely managed to listen carefully and laughed, you couldn't help it your orgasm had whipped you so hard you felt overwhelmed, lost in something fluffy. "I really liked it" you replied watching as Miguel leaned over your body to kiss you, you could taste yourself on his lips even though you had done it before when you made yourself cum with your fingers only and took them into your mouth sucking them until you fucked your mouth with them but the very conception of making out with the man you liked after he ate you so voraciously turned you on even more as he sucked your tongue before running all over the inside of your mouth to part and breathe both of you, sharing breath "Will you fuck me?" Miguel smiled before kissing you again, your sweet lips and bright eyes catching him nonchalantly, almost as if he couldn't escape and it's not like he wanted to either.

[h0neysiba]

¡Yan! ¡hombre rico! x lectora!

(TW: Menciones de sangre, secuestro, esclavitud, leve mención de desnudez, muerte y solo eso. Si olvido algo por favor dímelo!)

¡Yandere! ¡Hombre rico! que te compra joyas caras semanalmente para demostrarte la gran devoción que tiene por ti

¡Yandere! ¡hombre rico! quien se enamora de ti en el momento en que te ve

¡Yandere! ¡hombre rico! que le encanta comprarte vestidos, sabiendo que es el único que te los puede quitar.

¡Yandere! ¡hombre rico! que le encanta ver como las cuerdas rojas que te ha puesto cuelgan de tus muñecas y tobillos cuando te secuestra

¡Yandere! ¡hombre rico! que se frustra al ver que no eres feliz en tu nuevo hogar. ¿Por qué no lo amarías? Instalo todo lo que necesitabas para que pudieras tener una vida plena con él.

¡Yandere! ¡hombre rico! que no dudarán en encerrarte en su habitación compartida si alguna vez intentas escapar.

¡Yandere! ¡hombre rico! que mata a uno de sus sirvientes porque intentó ayudarte a escapar de sus garras

¡Yandere! ¡hombre rico! que adora tu presencia y te trata como a una diosa, besando el suelo por donde caminas con devoción

¡Yandere! ¡Hombre rico! que te mima con todo lo que deseas. ¿Un cachorro? Ya lo estás comprando, ¿ joyas nuevas? No preguntes dos veces.

Dios mío, esta es la primera vez que hago este T-T espero que les guste :O

[randommultifandomrants]

Being a girl is: wanting to go to bed early but deciding to just get on tumblr/wattpad/Ao3 for a little bit and then end up finding a fic series that you really like and read until well past your usual bedtime then keeping on because it’s already past your bedtime. Then being mad when you wake up in the morning because you overslept your timer.

[reiyaus]

fem reader intended

husband nanami who quit working overtime because he hated seeing you stay up so late- dozing off on the dining table, a warm plate of food waiting for him at 11:37 on a tuesday night.

husband nanami who carries you to bed, making sure you were warm before focusing on getting unready himself. putting your health before his, like always.

husband nanami who make sures to eat the food you’ve prepared for him, appetite or not, because putting your cooking to waste would make him feel even more guilty (if possible).

husband nanami who likes waking up and catching you in the kitchen, dancing to the music while preparing his lunch. sometimes he even sees you taking small samples of his food before stopping yourself from eating the whole thing.

husband nanami who goes to work with his bento inside his bag, staring at it his whole shift and counting the hours until he gets to read what you’ve written him for the day.

husband nanami who stores all your letters inside the first drawer of his desk, rereading them as if they’re motivational quotes on a coffee cup whenever his coworkers and boss start testing his remaining bits of patience.

husband nanami who leaves the office building the moment his shift is over and heads straight to your favorite café, ordering every single one of your favorite pastries- not minding how the number keeps increasing with every beep.

husband nanami who surprises you, freshly out the shower, with a huge bag full of bread you’ve been craving the whole week.

husband nanami who helps you with your post-shower routine while ocassionally feeding you, laughing at how your eyes never left the bag the moment he came home.

husband nanami who makes sure you actually get to sleep before 10 pm, leaving no excuses as he carries you to the bed again, but this time you’re laughing and gripping onto his shoulders.

husband nanami who traps you in his hold, lulling you to sleep as he apologizes for all the times he made you stay up late- sleeping uncomfortably on the table.

husband nanami who gets to sleep another night with your face as the last thing he sees.

and husband nanami who wakes up another morning, with your skin being the first thing he feels.

[cruel-seduction]

It’s like a full-blown addiction, but instead of drugs or booze, it’s this fictional guy who’s got her wrapped around his finger. She knows it’s fucked up—knows she’s out here daydreaming about someone who’s not even real—but who cares? This guy? He’s everything. He’s charming in the worst ways, flawed in every possible sense, but there’s just something about him that has her hooked. He doesn’t even know she exists, but she’s ready to fight anyone who says a word against him. Seriously, she’ll defend his honor like it’s a fucking life-or-death mission.

He’s a goddamn trainwreck, but he’s her trainwreck. She’ll put up with all his baggage, his emotional scars, his dark sides, because somehow, that brokenness makes him feel more real to her than any real guy could. He’s messed up, but she’ll fix him in her head every single time. Maybe it’s that thrill of knowing he’s dangerous and untouchable that makes him even more irresistible. He might break her heart in a hundred ways, but it’s the kind of heartbreak that makes her feel alive, even if it hurts like hell.

And it’s never gonna happen, right? She knows that. He’s not gonna waltz into her life and sweep her off her feet. But it doesn’t matter. Because she gets to have him on her terms—no messy reality, no awkward first dates, no risking her heart for real. He’s always there when she needs him, in that perfect little bubble of fantasy she’s built for herself. And maybe she’s a little crazy for it, but at least with him, she’s never disappointed. Every time she replays his scenes, reads the fanfics, imagines their future together—it's like a high she can never quite shake. She knows it's all just a mindfuck, but she’s never felt more alive.

[twinkletfout]

Nanami is the type of husband to pop a boner every time the both of you kiss.. THINK ABOUT IT

it's just a simple kiss and just when you are about to exit the car, his hand would reach out to you and he would just say "wait.." during the first few times it happened you were confused. "What's up?" You asked looking over at him. "Gimme 5 minutes" he wasn't looking at you, just anywhere else other than your face cause looking at your face is not going to help his little problem right now "5 minutes for what?" You asked, even more confused. He adjusted his pants slightly as he sank down on his seat, spreading his legs "um.. darlin' this is a little.. embarrassing to say but.." he rubbed the back of his neck, you noticed his ears turning a soft pinkish color. "What's wrong, ken?" You asked more impatiently, "I'm getting worried—"

he let out a heavy sigh as he said "I'm hard" your eyes widened as you tilted your head to the side, thinking if you heard it correctly. "Did i-" he cut you off before you finished your sentence, "yes you heard it correctly" his ears a bright reddish color now, "from the kiss? Really?" You asked. He nodded his head, embarrassed. You looked at him in disbelief, but you were quite turned on at the fact that you could turn him on just from a kiss "Don't look at me like that, sweetheart, it's not helping.."

[eupheme]

— sugar, sugar

[part ii] | [part iii] | [masterlist]

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 6.5k

tags: asshole friend!wade, (sorta soft) roommate!logan, baker!neighbor!reader, flirting, mutual yearning, immature humor, a reference to while you were sleeping, wingman!wade and the worse way to meet someone, light angst, oral sex, swallowing, fingering, v. light ass play, unprotected PiV, appearance of The Claws, what’s a refractory period, sorta audible voyeurism (brief/humorous)

a/n: includes spoilers for deadpool & wolverine (which omg I loved - what was your fave cameo?)

Your eccentric neighbor Wade may drive you a little up the wall… but, you’re willing to put up with him if it means he’ll introduce you to his new, grumpy-looking roommate.

“You gonna introduce me?”

You’ve cornered Wade in the apartment’s laundry room - the door to the front-loading washer hanging open as he holds a bundle of red fabric up to his chest.

“You think this will wash out?” 

The suit in question looks like it had been run over by a truck and then set on fire, with the rips criss-crossed in the leather and the numerous charred holes scattered across the chest.

“Definitely.” Your eyes flicker down, and then back up, “So, will you?”

He bundles the suit up - flinging into the back of the washer, the laundry basket still tucked under an arm.

“Really? Not even ‘hello, Wade’? ‘Looking good, Wade’?” His voice pitches up, imitating yours, “Does our friendship really mean nothing to you?”

You wouldn’t necessarily call Wade Wilson a friend.

In fact, he’s honestly the worst neighbor you’ve ever had. 

Loud, obnoxious. Persuasive - the first night you met you had been banging on his door at three in the morning, yelling at him to shut up as music and a caterwauling voice blared through the shared wall.

Ten minutes later you were playing the drums on his late night session of Rock Band, using a banana and a wooden spoon in place of sticks. Only for Althea to stomp out of her room and shut everything down, scaring both of you out of your skins.  

But sometimes, you think - remembering the times he came through for you, a shoulder to cry on, helping him this slump he’s been digging himself out of - he might just be the best, as well.

And maybe that was friendship, after all. 

You sigh, leaning against the row of washers. Eyes flicking over him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You do look good, Wade,” There’s a tilt of your head, the smile widening, “Glad you lost the toupee, that really wasn’t your color.”

“Ah, ah. Repurposed,” He chides, cupping his crotch, “You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve missed-”

“Ew, stop.” Your face scrunches, a hand covering your eyes as you shield your vision, “Will you please just answer my question?”

He throws a handful of shirts in the washer, “Which was...?”

Your head shakes - a hand on his arm as you reach for a glint of gold in the pile of clothes. Cringing as a handgun appears, held gingerly between thumb and forefinger as you set it on the side table.

“Good call,” He nods, “Dry clean only.”

You can't help a laugh then, even as your hands brace on your hips, “I want to meet your roommate.”

He frowns, “You’ve met Blind Al.”

“Jesus, Wade. Not Al." A hand waves, " I mean Mister Tall, Dark, and Brooding.”

You’ve seen the stranger in the hallways a few times in the month since he’s moved in. Scruffy and scowling the first time, a silent shadow behind Wade’s endless chatter. 

But in the weeks following, that look had softened. You’d stopped by twice with cookies to welcome him, but every time you’ve just gotten Al.

Not that you dislike Al, that’s not it at all. She’s sweet enough to you when it’s not 3 a.m. or if Wade doesn’t have her annoyed half to death.

But you certainly weren’t harboring a crush on her. Maybe even secretly hoping that maybe the new neighbor will get a little lost and end up at your door, instead of his new place.  

“Ooh,” The syllables draw out - detergent flung in, before he’s leaning against the washer too, facing you. “Yeah, Logan. He's great, got a mean ‘Hugh Jackman’ vibe, just without the singing. You’d like him.”

Something like hope flutters in your belly, but then he’s raising a finger - wiggling it at you, “Just one question though. What’s in it for me?”

That has you scowling, “What do you mean? You owe me. I covered for you when you had that barqueue in the stairwell.”

“God, that was great sausage.” Wade groans, thinking back, “Mmm, but I think Peter covered for me.”

“Who do you think got Peter?”

“Well, I don’t remember seeing you.” He shrugs.

“I was right-,” You pinch the bridge of your nose between thumb and forefinger, a sharp exhale of breath, “Fine. If you do this for me, I’ll do that thing you keep asking me to do.”

Wade gasps gleefully, “You mean you’ll make the triple decker-”

“-chocolate caramel cheesecake chimichangas. Yes.” You finish with him, arms crossing over your chest, “You’re lucky you heal fast because that should put you right into a food coma.”

“Right. Lucky me,” He smirks. A second as he thinks, before he snaps his fingers, “I’m having a little get-together tonight! You should come. Was gonna invite you anyway.”

The pounding in your head ratchets up at the thought that all this could’ve been avoided.

“Logan sleeps on the couch, though,” He adds, sagely, “So just letting you know that if the two of you decide to get your fuck on in my bed, according to the state of New York I am legally allowed to join you.”

“Thanks for the warning,” You grimace - even if you’re certain that cannot possibly be true, “But I do have my own apartment.”

“Oh, right.” There’s the faintest edge of disappointment in his tone, paired with a sigh.

You give him a sideways look, then.

“I saw Vanessa leaving yesterday. Things getting better?”

He sobers at that, eyes moving towards the sliver of a window. The glimpse of the street outside.

“Yeah.” Wade manages, “Yeah, I think so.”

There had once been a flicker of something. In-between your annoyance and exasperation, there were tendrils of tenderness. Long snuffed out, when you had seen just how banged up his heart was. How it’s always belonged to another. 

You had gotten over it. Gotten to a place where seeing him now, like this, makes you smile.

“I’m really glad to hear that.” 

He smiles, then.

“Thanks. Me too.”

“Hey, hold on.” Wade darts in front of his roommate, a leg kicked up high to block the doorway, “Where are you going? You can’t go out.”

Logan scowls, an arm already shoved into his leather jacket, “Sure I can.”

The blow against his shoulder might move a lesser man, but Wade’s fingers just grip the frame even tighter, “But I promised-, I got a friend that wants to meet you. There is some really important shit at stake here. I can’t let you go.”

An eyebrow cocks, “Can’t? I think we both know how that would go if you tried to stop me.”

It would be easy to get into this right here and now, but his suit is still in the dryer and he’s not about to spend another hour cleaning up blood.

“Wait, wait, wait,” He throws a hand up, “Aren’t you listening to me? A girl wants to meet you. She’s hot, she has a job, and she has an apartment. You’re only one outta three there. Can’t you see what a good opportunity this is? This is totally in your favor!”

Logan scoffs, his tongue tucking against his teeth. Hesitating for just a second, but it's enough that Wade knows he’s got him.

“I’ve met your friends,” He eventually acknowledges, “They’re good folk and all, but there isn’t anyone there I’d like to ‘get to know better’, yeah?”

“You haven’t met this one. She lives next door.”

The pause stretches longer this time. Dark eyes dart out into the hallway, and Wade can practically hear those rusted gears turning.

“Apartment 16 or 18?” Logan finally rasps, his arms crossing. 

Oh, he’s definitely got him. Just call him Wade Wilson, New York’s own personal Cupid. New life goal - get his friends laid. 

He nocks a mental arrow - aiming, and then firing with his answer. 

“18.” 

Another beat passes, and then a sigh. 

“Alright.” The leather sleeve slips from his arm, drooping in his fist.

“Five minutes. That’s all I’m staying.”

Wade’s fist pumps. 

Bullseye, motherfucker. 

The apartment is packed and it’s been well past the allotted five minutes. Logan’s been nursing a beer for the last fifteen, eyes flicking over the people he’s grown to know well.

Offering a tight, half-smile when the big man claps him on the back, followed by Opposites Attract. Almost tempted to find that damn dog, just to have something to do. 

Or maybe, just bail all-together.

Starting to think this was all an elaborate prank. Some fucked up aspect of this Earth, unknown to him until now.

He’s too old for this shit. If he heads for the bedroom now, he might make it out the fire escape before anyone notices.

Logan is still entertaining this new thread of thought until he hears his name - called out over whatever fuck-face bullshit boy-band music Wade’s been playing. 

Ambiance, his ass.

The muscles of his crossed arms flex. Catching the way his roommate hauls a girl across the floor - the look of panic on her face as she tosses a container onto the nearest surface.

Wade hadn’t been lying, after all. It was Apartment 18 - that was about as much as he knew about you.

Other than the color of your eyes. The smell of your perfume in the hall. Your hair, your schedule - waking in the mornings to hear your door opening at 5 a.m., five days a week.

A baker. A damn good one, from the bits of cookie he’s snuck when no one was home. 

Had never thought to introduce himself, because he’s been through all this before. Knows better than to reach out in the first place - still nursing the old wound of heartache, one that still flares to life in his chest.

Better not to hope, or even think, at all. 

You stumble when he lets go, and Logan’s hands only curl tighter. Afraid to touch, now that you’re so close. 

A pretty young thing compared to him. This was a fucking stupid idea, his eyes darting away as Wade claps, his hands spreading wide. 

“Logan,” Wade’s tone is cordial, as if discussing the weather, “This is our neighbor, Sugar. She bakes a mean penis cake and likes emotionally unavailable men.”

A dejected sigh as he regards you, “Which is why it’s never worked out between us. I am just too available.”

Penis cake?

Logan shoots you a sideways look, an eyebrow cocked. Caught off guard by this unexpected intro, and it seems you are the same - gauging by the way your mouth drops open. 

Your face swimming with regret, as you hiss, “Oh my god. Wade. It was one time. Why do you have to put it like that?”

Wade’s smile widens, his tone still innocent, “Just skipping over the ‘getting-to-know-you’s, so you can know if you’re compatible.”

Already pivoting to face Logan with a little wink, his own scowl already deepening. Something like nerves flickering to life - as he wonders if this will all be over before it ever begins.

“And this is Logan. He’s from another Earth, is two-hundred years old, and has a metal dong.”

Jesus Christ. 

Logan’s teeth grit, before he snarls, “It’s not made of metal-”

Out of the corner of his eye, catches the curious dip of your gaze. Past the folded twist of his arms, the flannel, down to his thick belt buckle.

A knock rings out then, interrupting him from any further clarification.

“Ooh! Door,” Wade thumbs over his shoulder, “Go on now, we’ve got some good energy going here. Sugar and spice, I love it.”

A spin on his heel, and he’s leaving them alone. Silence a lingering companion for a long moment, before Logan turns.

“Nice to meet you.” He seethes, jaw working as he shoots daggers at Wade’s back. A hand extended - he’d manage that much at least.

Waiting for you to make an excuse and run, but all you do is fit your hand into his. Soft and strong and a near perfect fit.

Logan doesn’t touch people much anymore unless it’s a hand around a throat, or claws buried deep into a chest. Had almost forgotten what it was like, even if this meeting is close to his own personal version of hell.

“Nice to finally meet you, too.” Your smile is wry. Hands still clasped a moment longer, until he’s withdrawing. 

Your hands shove into your back pockets. The tilt of a head as you regard him, and he lets his eyes meet yours. 

They’re pretty, like the rest of you. Captivating even, if he could use such a word, and Wade’s words ring out in his head. 

She wants to meet you.

He’s wondering if that’s still true. Maybe you’re wondering the same, with the way you look at him. 

“So,” You begin, awkwardly - another unconscious flick of your eyes,“How does-”

“Uh-uh.” Logan’s head shakes. He’s picked up a couple things living with Wade. Never used to be a bargaining man, but he has to admit it has its uses. 

“If you wanna know, you gotta go first.” 

He hates you.

He must, with the way he’s scowling. Thighs spread wide as he sits on the couch you had gestured to, fingers in a vice grip around the bottle. No doubt plotting a dozen ways to ditch you the second he can.

Who wouldn’t, with a meeting like this? You could kill Wade, cheeks burning as you sink into the worn cushions next to him.

That is, until your knee knocks against his. The muscles in his thigh flexing - but Logan lets it rest, instead of pulling away. 

“You gonna-?” His voice is gruff, a low rasp that makes goosebumps raise across your skin. 

“Uh, sure.” Your fingers twist, “Which part did you want to hear about?”

His eyebrows lift. Those dark eyes beneath, almost a hint of amusement in them.

“Right,” The little laugh that bubbles from you is self-conscious, “Well, I don’t really like emotionally unavailable men, they just have a habit of finding me.”

His voice is low, “How would Wade know that?”

“Mm, how would he know about your-?” Your eyes flicker down for the third time, and he shifts. 

“You first.”

“Alright.” You huff, but you’re smiling now. Some of your discomfort easing. 

Logan is even more handsome than you had thought. You like the way his eyes dart away, only to come back and linger. 

It’s starting to make you think that maybe it’s not dislike that has so much of him hidden away. Maybe it’s just been a long time since someone tried to peel any of him back. 

Maybe he’s as nervous as you are.

“Well, he’s had to scare an ex or two away.” You shrug, “He only knows because I told him. And the cake, oh-, that was him, too.”

You turn then, to face him. A shoulder brushing the arm he has thrown across the back of the couch, a flicker in his eyes as you get comfortable beside him.

“Well, Wade had gotten ripped in half a couple years ago,” You nose wrinkles, a wave of your hand, “And it all like, has to grow back, right? It’s so creepy.”

Logan grimaces at your explanation, and you wonder if he understands. You think he must - you had thought he was like Wade, in some ways. 

Different. Special.

“Well, he uh, finished growing everything in,” You make a sweeping gesture over your lower half, “And the next year to celebrate his dickiversary, he ordered a penis cake from my shop.”

“His… dickiversary.” Logan repeats slowly.

The heat is back in your cheeks, but you nod, “Yeah, because it like, it came back and all. And he paid in cash, I couldn’t say no.”

There’s the smallest twitch of Logan’s lips, and it feels like a victory.

“Right. What flavor was it?”

Your smile widens with relief, “Strawberries and cream. It was so good. I’ll have to make it for you sometime.”

A second before you cringe, adding, “I mean, a normal one. Not…”

He hums then, close to a laugh.  

“Sure. You do that.”

You smile, letting your shoulder bump his, “And with that… I think it’s your turn.”

The bit of humor in his expression flattens. A searching look thrown your way, before he inhales a breath.

Setting it free. 

“I’m a mutant.”

Logan waits there, as if expecting something. You only nod, thinking of the ones you know. Colossus, Ellie, Yukio, Domino. Wade. 

“Wade said you were similar to him. I had assumed-” You encourage, waiting.

“Right,” He seems relieved, some of the tension ebbing, “My powers are regenerative, like his. But unlike him, I have these-”

There’s the jerk of his wrist, and three sharp metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. Your gasp is caught in your throat as you cling to his flannel shirt - the surprise bleeding into worry. 

They glint in the light, as his fingers flex. 

“Adamantium instead of bones. All of me is like this.”

The claws sheath themselves inside him again. His wounds smoothing over seconds later, as he scrubs his knuckles across his jeans, wiping away blood. 

Offering out his hand, after. Letting your grip unwind from his shirt, and press against his skin instead. Feeling the tendons in his hand, his wrist. The skeleton beneath utterly unyielding, a weight to his limb that is so unlike your own.

“Metal…” You trail off, as pieces click into place, “I get it now. So does Wade really think there’s like, an actual bone-?”

Logan huffs again, “Guess so.”

You laugh then. A thought sobering you after, as a fingertip drifts up to the dip between his fingers. 

“But doesn’t that hurt?” 

It makes you wince to even think about it. Much less how casually they sprung from him, no different than breathing. 

He shrugs, and it’s heartbreaking.

“Doesn’t even phase me anymore.”

“And, the two hundred years,” Another facet you put together out loud, “You’re still alive because you keep healing? Will it be that way forever?”

His hand flexes in your grip.

“Not forever. Apparently my powers will run out, at some point.” His eyes meet yours, “The Logan in this world is dead. Wade pulled me from another.”

Your brow furrows - always trying to keep up with the snippets that Wade has told you across the years - stories about time-traveling and mutants and even how he came to be. But this seems too deep. Surely Logan must be joking.

“Another world, huh?” You ask, head tilting - trying your best to roll with it, “Won’t they miss you in yours?”

Only now does his face falter. That sharp mask cracking, as his hand pulls from yours. Resting again on the back edge of the couch - his answer low and rough. 

“No. I don’t think so.”

Another jolt racks through your heart. You don’t know him know him yet, but you already can’t believe that could possibly be true. Your fingers fan out, hovering - before it folds into a fist.

“Well then, I’m glad you’re here.”

He doesn’t reply. 

The room is darker now, dim with the setting of the sun. Street lights outside pouring in a golden beam that cuts across his face. 

His eyes are hazel, you can see that now. A fading rim of green spilling into the brown, beneath the near-permanent furrow of his eyebrows. 

Yours caught in the glow of the flamingo string lights that curl out from the kitchen, stapled to the walls.

He breaks the silence, the words coming slowly. 

“Let me ask you one more thing.” 

“Sure. You know some of my worst secrets already.” You smile, a shoulder lifting.

His hand twitches, where it rests near your shoulder. The tip of a finger ghosting against skin.

Just the slightest brush but it feels like it radiates out, lingering after.

“Why’d you tell Wade you wanted to meet me?” 

His voice is still low, rough. But it’s lost that sharp edge. The combination has your stomach tied up in knots, suddenly more nervous that you’ve been the whole night.

Surely he must know? 

“Well…” You hedge. It’s your turn to look away, but then there’s the brush of his fingers again.

“Because I did want to meet you.” You admit, “You, you seemed like someone I wanted to get to know. In whatever capacity you’d like.”

“Is that right, Sugar?” Logan husks, and the nickname sounds even sweeter on his tongue, stealing your breath.

All you can do is nod, as his eyes darken. 

Voices rise behind you, ripping you out of this little bubble you’ve found yourself in. Nearly forgetting just how many people are here, how many eyes have been glancing your way since you’ve arrived.

“Not strip poker Wade, please.” The rough rumbling plea of Colossus’s voice rings out above the others, “You never wear anything under the suit-”

You didn’t even realize when he had changed, but he had - patches of bare skin on his ass showing through the holes. Your nose scrunches, before you turn back to realize that Logan’s eyes are still on you.

Dropping when your tongue peeks out to wet your lips - your words coming out in a soft hush. 

“You want to get out of here?”

You want him. You can only hope that he might just want you, too.

The corner of his lip twitches.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

It’s strange to have someone like Logan in your space. You can remember the last time you’ve wanted someone here.

His fingers still entwined with yours, from where you had reached back for him. Leading him through the dim corners of the room.

Thinking you had made it, only for the rousing cheers to rise when you had cracked the door open to slip through.

His grip tightening when you made to tug your hand free, in an urge to press it against burning cheeks. Letting you fumble with one hand, to open the lock next door.

It’s quieter here. A low echo of the music next door, as the darkness wraps around you again.

Here, his fingers move, but it’s only to skim up your wrist. To tug you between him and the front door, until your back presses against it. 

His nose brushes yours as he steps into your space, your lips already parting. Holding himself there for a moment, inhaling the scent of you as his arm braces above your head.

Leaving you to be the one that closes the gap. The tilt of your head and the press of your lips against his.

A rough hum when your arms wrap around his neck, fingers buried in his hair. His hand gripping at your waist, pulling your hips against his.

Tugging and pushing. A messy path from the front door through the small living room - a mirror-image of the apartment next door.

Through to the bedroom, wandering hands and the brush of his tongue against yours as he deepens the needy kiss. Until his knees are hitting the edge of your bed, and he’s letting you nudge him back onto the mattress.

He brings you with him - your hips cradling his as you settle yourself astride him. Hands flatten against his chest as you rock down - drawing a rough, mumbled “fuck”.

Grinding yourself down where he’s hard, the curve of his cock straining against his jeans. Letting your hands follow, as his own cup your ass. Squeezing, before slipping to press the heel of his hand against the seam at your clit.

You moan into his mouth, as your fingers curl around him. Eyes blown wide when you pull back, scooting your hips down. 

It’s here that he comes back to himself. 

Going tense as you fit yourself between his thighs, fingers at this belt as the other still cups him.

“You shouldn’t want this.” He rasps, those eyes glinting in the dark, “A man like me. You know that, right?”

Propping himself up on an elbow, so he can see your expression. So you can see the way his jaw grits, nostrils flaring. 

It’s a warning, wrapped up in silk. A last ditch effort to scare you away - knowing that once he has you, he won’t want to stop.

Your fingers slow - his zipper half-undone, baring skin and a dark shadow of hair beneath. 

The other pulling away, “You want me to stop?” 

He catches your wrist, jerking your hand back. His hips bucking into your palm, grinding himself into your touch. 

“The last thing I want to fucking do is stop.” It’s almost a growl, “But on my Earth, I-”

You sigh then, impatient, “Logan, this Earth isn’t all that great either. I lost five years of my life to the blip.”

He frowns, not understanding - but your head shakes as you continue, “I’m tired of being too scared to take chances. I’ve been trying to live each day to the fullest, and I’d like to end this one with you.”

And out of everyone - Logan knows a little something about second chances.

“Yeah,” He manages - the grip of his fist leaves you, “Yeah, okay.”

"Thank you,” You answer primly, just as you finish yanking the zipper down. 

His hand beats you in the race to ease himself out, fingers curling around the base. You can’t help it - you inhale a breath at the sight of him.

Heavy, with the way the flushed tip bobs in his grip. Thick enough that you’re already wondering if you’re going to be able to take him. 

The huff he makes turns into a groan as you start small - engulfing the leaking head with your lips. The first inch turns into another as his hips lift, feeding his cock into your waiting mouth. 

Only when he’s halfway inside you, bumping against your throat, does his hand drop. Letting you replace it with your own - squeezing, as drool slicks up his shaft. Your head bobbing in time with the twist of your fist.

That brief hesitance is quickly forgotten. Fingers brush at your cheek, curling around the base of your head as he guides you.

Leaving you eager for more. Another hissed groan when your mouth leaves him, your hand loosening as you strip your clothes away.

“Oh fuck yes,” He coaxes, when he realizes what you’re doing, “Let me see you, baby.” 

Your shirt and pants left to pool on the floor. A second of boldness as you unclasp your bra next, leaving you in your panties as you focus on his cock again. 

A bitten-back moan when your tongue slips across his swollen shaft - an low throb between your thighs as you rub them together, clenching around nothing. Resisting the urge to slip your hand beneath the hem to ease the ache. 

Instead, your keep your hands on him. Goosebumps raising as your nails scratch against the deep v of muscle at his hips. The others working him into your mouth, as he slowly comes more undone. 

His hips flex with each bob of your head, lips parted as he pants. The words a rough mumble, becoming almost desperate. 

“That’s it sweetheart.”

Another moan when you take him deep, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, “Oh fuck, gonna fill that pretty mouth.”

His hand cups your jaw, holding you steady as he bucks into your mouth. Those dark eyes fixed on you in wonder, all that pretty skin bared for him to touch, to taste. He’s mesmerizing like this - the weight of gaze. Jaw slack with pleasure, eyes aflame.

You did this to him. 

It sends something warm flooding through you, as his eyelashes flutter. The tipping back of his head, muscles ticking in his cheek as his teeth ground down. 

A sound still slips between them, as he floods your mouth with the next flex of his hips. Pulsing between your lips as you swallow him down, a choked sound ripping from his chest when you cup his sack to gently squeeze out every last drop. 

Logan melts into the mattress after, an arm thrown over his eyes as he catches his breath. His gaze focusing on you when he feels you squirm - dark, and hungry.

A lithe stretch of muscles as he moves - legs easing from beneath you. 

“Hands and knees,” He commands, head tipping towards the bed next to him, as he rolls off. Kicking off his jeans as you listen, watching over a shoulder as the flannel and white tank underneath joins your clothes on the floor.

Your eyes widen at how toned he is - muscles rippling, the bed dipping as he fits himself behind you.

His broad hand at the small of your back, pushing your torso down against the mattress. A pleased hum then, fingers trailing just along the elastic edge of your underwear.

“Could smell how much she needed this.” The tips of two press against the damp fabric between your thighs, making you gasp, “Even next door. You want it that bad?”

It should be embarrassing that he could tell how much you desired him, but at the moment all you can think about is him touching you more.

“Yes,” You agree, “Please, Logan.”

“So fuckin’ polite,” The fingers withdraw; but only so his nose can replace them. A ragged inhale, just before his tongue drags against your clothed slit.

A groan against your skin as you cry out, before a finger hooks around the fabric, baring you for him to taste.

The heat of his tongue flattens against you - lapping at where you drip with need, a rough rumble in his chest. 

“Sweet, too.” Another flick of his tongue, “Your name. ‘s fitting.”

You can’t manage words. Only his name, muffled against the sheets as your fists twist in them. Back arched as you resist the urge to grind yourself against his tongue, as it flicks against your clit.

It’s messy, how he eats you. You don’t think you’ve even had someone take you like this. Hungry, desperate even, as he devours you. The rumble of a groan against your cunt as his tongue delves inside you, stretching you open. Letting your slick smear into his beard, with how close he presses his mouth.

That need inside you thrumming. Winding tighter as he yanks your panties down your thighs. His palm flattening against your ass, holding you open as he licks you from clit to hole, then higher. Humming as you squeak, when his tongue flattens against your tight rim. 

A thick finger nudging against you then, as his tongue dips back to your clit. There’s no resistance as it slips deeper, into slick walls that clamp down around him.  It’s what you needed - that little bit more.

Unable to help rocking into the crook of his finger now. Whining when a second joins it, spearing deep and curling. Dragging against your walls, loud and wet and filthy with each plunge. 

Your whimpers only grow louder. Needier, as his lips wrap around your clit. Fingers pounding deep, stretching you out. Leaving you babbling, your words slipping together. 

“Don’t fucking stop.” Tears prick at your eyes, each breath a rattling gasp, “Oh my god you’re gonna make me come-”

He has you gushing, with the next flick of his tongue. A pleased groan as he feels your pussy tighten around his fingers, hearing the wail that is muffled into your pillows. That sharp pace slowing, his thumb replacing his tongue to draw your orgasm out until your legs are shaking. 

His fingers sticky when they pull from you, only to slip between his lips - tongue curling around his knuckles, sucking them clean.

It leaves you floating above yourself. You can’t remember ever coming this hard, even by yourself. Only the tintest thread of disappointment as you drift, and it’s only that you won’t get the pleasure of his cock filling you tonight.

You would’ve liked to see what he can do with the rest of him. 

Perhaps you can convince him to stay until morning.

But he moves behind you, instead. His knee pressing against yours, spreading your legs further. The rhythmic shuffle of skin against skin, as his hand slips from between his lips to fist around his cock. 

“Tell me I can fuck you.” It’s not a plea, not with the harsh rasp of his voice. But it’s as close as you’ve heard, as he swipes the tip against your leaking pussy.

Smearing your slick on him, teasing at your waiting hole.

You don’t know how he’s hard again, but at the moment you really don’t care. Not sure if you’ve ever felt a need like this, your back arching further as you present yourself to him. 

A twist of your neck, so your eyes can meet his. 

“Fuck me, Logan.” 

He groans, broad hands squeezing at your ass. Slipping up to sink his fingers into the flesh at your hips. Holding you steady as he lines himself up. 

Your breath held, when you feel his cock start to breach you - muscles stringing tight.

“Relax, sweetheart,” He grits out, though not unkindly, “You can take it.”

Trying to hold himself back from filling you with a single thrust, with the way you’re already gripping him.

Easing himself into your heat. Two inches forward and then one back, and with each one you think you’ll feel the press of his thighs against yours. A low whine as your cunt makes room for him, that sharp stretch as it feels like he’s reaching into your belly.

Feeling full when he finally is flush, the weight of his sack kissing against your clit. His shoulders following the curve of your back, as a hand slips up to plant next to your head.

“Feels fucking incredible,” It’s mumbled against your skin, almost as if it hadn’t meant to say it. 

“Mm,” You grin, your face tipping up to his, “Should’ve met you weeks ago.”

He smirks, a low sound in his throat as his mouth presses to yours. Starting a slow rhythm that drags his cock against your walls. Slipping until he’s halfway out, only to sheath himself again. Pushing the air from your lungs as he flattens himself, knees digging into the bed as your thigh spread wider - forcing him deeper.

It’s almost too much. 

You hand shoots out, reaching. Wrapping around his wrist, nails biting against his skin. 

It feels like he’s surrounding you. Each thrust a heavy weight that presses you into the bed. Splitting you open, until all you can do is squirm beneath him.

That pressure in your belly building again, as his hips pound. His breath, hot and panting in your ear as he chases his own end.

“Fuck, Logan.” You sob, “Harder-”

His tendons flex under your grip. Knuckles pressing flat against the sheets as he makes a rough sound in his throat. 

Those claws unsheathing with his next thrust. Punching down into your mattress. Anchoring as he loses himself to the feel of you beneath him.

How tight and wet and warm you are, your arousal still sweet on his tongue. Fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your throat, as everything tightens up inside him.

“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning, rasped out. 

“Come in me,” You whine, “Wanna feel you.”

He does growl then, at the thought of filling you to the brim, until he's leaking out of your pretty little pussy. Hips snapping faster, pinning you to the bed as he ruts into you. Each squeak of the bed paired with the sharp rip of fabric as his claws dig in. 

Feeling how your body strings tight beneath him, how you clench down in anticipation. Wanting to feel you once more, before he gives in to his own desires.

“Come on, baby,” It’s hushed, murmured against your skin, “Fuckin’ give it to me-”

The sharp point of a canine scraping against your skin, his groan rough and throaty in your ear. 

Your fingers work down to wedge themselves between your thighs. The tips brushing where you’re speared open, before circling your clit like his tongue had.

He has you mindless. Fucked out - that soft glow from your earlier orgasm shining bright as he tips you towards a second.

Burning at that tightly wound thread inside you, until the ends fray, and then snap. 

It has you coming with his next thrust. A wail ripped from you as he buries himself deep, feeling the way your pussy clenches down around him. 

Fingers still swirling, drawing out the deep pulses that fan out from your core as your toes curl, vision going hazy.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” He rasps, those sharp thrust slowing to a sloppy grind, “Make a fucking mess for me, there you go-”

Panting, as he groans. Another roll of his hips before he’s coming with you - teeth bruising skin as they sink into your shoulder. The sound he makes is broken as he spills into you, muscles clenching with each pulse that paints your walls.  

Marking you thoroughly with teeth and come, the saw of his hips slowing until you both finally go still. A breath finally caught. 

Blissed out, when he rolls you both to the side. His thighs still mapping yours, cock still notched deep. A thick arm thrown across your waist, his breath ragged in your ear as he catches his breath.

Your fingers drift, as you bask in your afterglow. Dipping into the rips in your mattress, knuckle deep.

There’s a grunt as you wiggle, the words low in your ear, “I’ll get you another, sweetheart. Just lost control for a moment.”

The thought doesn’t bother you as much as you’d think. In fact, you wouldn’t mind if happened again.

Only as your imagination runs wild, do you hear the muffled moan from the brick wall behind you.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Dramatic and drawn out, paired with faint rhythmic noise. 

A beat - before you hear mumbled protesting. The voice of someone talking with their mouth full, “No. Back the fuck off Peter, I’m not going to share.” 

Eating. The fucker was eating his end of the bargain, ear pressed to the wall.

The next louder, “Alright, pay up everyone, Operation ‘Get Sugar Some Sugar’ was a success!”

You grimace, eyes rolling. Logan grunts behind you, the words mumbled out sleepily.

“Wish I could sew that goddamn mouth shut.”

There’s a faint “they already tried that!” before Logan’s fist bangs on the wall, shutting him up.

But you can’t help the smile. Your fingers fitting between the ones that rest just below your breasts, squeezing.

“He’s not so bad,” You admit, “Wade, I mean.”

Logan groans, “Don’t say his name while I’m fucking you.”

“You’re-” You start - but then you can feel him.

Still hard - as his hips cant slowly against yours. Your joined hands slip up to cup a breast - as his lips press against your neck, stubble scraping you skin.

“Again?” You breathe, disbelieving that he’d be up for a third time - your hips rocking back to meet his. The sound lewd with how he drips from you - but it only has him grinding himself deeper, “You sure you’re two hundred?”

“Regenerative powers, sweetheart.” Logan husks, the flash of teeth with a knowing smirk.

“Can’t say it doesn’t come with perks.”

I used to have the biggest fucking crush on wolverine, haha - so fun to watch a new movie with him!! 👀💕 thank you so much for reading! And please me know if you'd like to read any more for him! (like more one-shots,etc!)

[ofourlee]

megumi x reader

"i want a kiss."

"no."

megumi let out a scoff, feigning being offended by your response

"no? you're denying me a simple kiss? that's cold."

megumi turned his head slightly, crossing his arms across his chest with a huff, his lower lip sticking out in a slight pout.

"gumi,"

he continued to sulk, his back facing you as he laid on his side. he was stubbornly refusing to look at you

"meg—"

"you're so mean to me. you're not even calling me baby anymore."

you slightly chuckle

"baby, can you look at me? pretty please?"

but to no avail.

you wrap your arms around him and kisses his cheek from behind. leaving occasional pecks on the corner of his lips.

"i was kidding, let me see your handsome face, baby."

megumi, still stubbornly facing away from you, huffed a small sigh before reluctantly facing your way.

"what?"

"are you done sulking?"

"yes, i'm done sulking," he admitted, his voice low and sincere. "in fact, i think i've been teased long enough. now, give me my kiss please."

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

bear hybrid! price who stalks around your house at night, protecting you from whatever else might be lurking in the woods. you don't know that he is of course, but you should be more thankful when he shuts and locks your windows when you're asleep. occasionally you see him lumber on the edge of the forest, minding his own. he doesn't want to scare you, but he wants you to admire him, too.

wolf hybrid! simon that follows you everywhere (from a distance and he rarely lets you touch him). you were frightened at first of the big bad wolf, but when he takes you away from snakes and other dangers in the woods you learn to leave out some scraps for him. (he sleeps on your front step. won't enter the house yet.)

fox hybrid! johnny who regularly sneaks into your house to play in your blankets. the wildlife here is so friendly you're shocked, shouldn't they be frightened of you? however he sleeps under your bed and he's fine unless you try to kick him out. red fur is on everything, he seems unusually close to the wolf that looms around. loves scratches to the ears!

falcon hybrid! kyle who hovers in air around your house. he finds little trinkets for you and leaves them on your porch. he mostly hangs around price, but he will chirp greetings and steal bird feed from your feeders.

they protect you in different ways, trying to worm their way to your affections before they bed down in your abode for winter.

[alessabriel]

Pink shimmer

Summary: In Zaun you don't always live, everyone, each and every one of the inhabitants, no matter what level they live on, knows they must survive, you always survive every day and surviving involves paths you don't want to take.

Cw. Scenes with blood and violence typical of the canon, angst with ambiguous ending, reader with characteristics: white hair and pink eyes,

✄ — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Vi hated silence, it was something despicable to her and her psyche, five years inside a four-walled room with no one to talk to, no one to listen to, and nothing to do was hell. She never stopped to think about how much she heard in Zaun, between streets and alleys there was always the industrial hum, voices she never fully recognized, the laughter of her brothers and that voice that always made her skin crawl, a voice that could bring her calm like no one else ever could, a voice that in her brain was within the category of unforgettable. It had all been a hell plagued by some beatings that she had seen herself provoking to be given in order to get even and respond, that earned her isolation but it was no different from day to day, that had been her life until that day.

Someone got her out of jail.

At first she didn't believe in that enforcer, just another Piltie who believed she could handle something that was bigger than all of Piltover and at the beginning she wasn't wrong, it was that very thing, but, as time went by Caitlyn Kiramman stopped being just an Enforcer and an insufferable Piltie to be someone inside her chest, even though she was someone inside her chest she never saw herself telling her life beyond what she allowed herself, she had to preserve that, so that no one else would contaminate it but between that night after a fight that she couldn't contain herself to start with someone from her past, someone from her past who knew where she would be.

|| The first blow came unexpectedly, and out of nowhere, treachery was the implicit message. The same blow ended up bringing the brunette to the ground, who in seconds stood up and faced the pink-haired girl.

Everyone in the alley fled.

Vi knew that what spoke for her was anger, courage and rage at knowing that Sevika had betrayed Vander, what he meant before and everything he brought. A betrayal that still burns and gives her the strength to deliver each blow until having Sevika against the ground, her voice came out.

"Where's Powder?! What did they do to him?" she questions with a firm and demanding voice, anger and anger tinting her tone "Where's [Name]?!"

And perhaps Vi should have suspected that amused smile, that dark and mocking smile, almost poisonous and toxic, destined to contaminate, to hurt, to destroy.

"...she works for him" Sevika answers briefly and amusedly, feeling the weakness in Violet's grip and taking advantage of that, there is no reason to hold back or soften anything, because between alleys and the rest of the Zaunitas the rumor spreads, a true fact that Violet, Vander's daughter is with a Piltie "he even treats her like a daughter, she is no longer Powder but Jinx"

Vi did not know when or how, but the ringing in her ears became deafening, and heavy, her head had contaminated cotton filling every space and disbelief, desperation, helplessness and emptiness fill her. Powder with Silco?

"[Name]?" she finds herself questioning in a small voice, not what her loud and firm voice is, just a vestige of before when the edge of something is embedded in her side with a hefty, bloody, violent and perhaps sadistic slowness.

Sevika turns the blade around by rising from the ground, bringing Violet's weight to the edge of the blood-soaked blade and pulling her out, watching her fall to her knees like a puppet whose strings have been cut. It's satisfying in a way. With her mechanical hand she takes a handful of pink hair, slipping a single engraved gold coin between her lips and closing her mouth herself, before retracting the mechanical arm to strike the first blow.

"...she's worse"

But it all ends with a bullet landing on metal.||

So, in retrospect, I didn't expect to be able to find her, but I try, I try amidst all the persecution, and together with Caitlyn they reached that area, climbing and jumping, dodging Silco's men. It was an isolated area with only one door through which they entered, being pursued only by one last man inside the room, who in a matter of seconds is shot down by a bullet that makes her stand still. She admires the room, in the heights there are circular windows with bars. The area where she was was empty, but where the darkness converged, she saw something, a pair of pink eyes that make her feel and not feel at the same time.

"...I see it was true," says a female voice, syrupy, almost bored and mocking, like a joke that only she understands.

After that voice she saw a long white hair in the light before it fell, and it was a few meters away from her and Caitlyn, her heart stopped as it could not, it was her, it was her but so different and the same, long white hair lacking any tone or color except for the soft pale pink roots almost just a reflection, body with soft curves but notice there is a certain thinness that remains, features still delicate and feminine but with an expression of boredom, as she tilts her head to one side like a feline not understanding.

It was her, it was her [Name].

And his hands itch to touch her, but a bullet passes dangerously close to him again leaving a soft reddish line on his cheek that almost blew his ear off, a looseness in handling weapons and he notices bandages covering from his fingers to his elbows, bandages tinted red, but he never expected that look to tell him so much but at the same time nothing, a pair of eyes that he remembered as having a dark tone turned to a dangerous and almost toxic pink color.

"With a piltie? I knew you could fall under Violet. But that much?" the unknown female figure questions, with a lazy smile

"It's not what it seems..." Vi tries, in vain, to explain

Perhaps she shouldn't have thought it would be that easy, Sevika had told her that if Jinx was with Silco almost like a daughter and it was true, she should have believed that in those words, when she feels cornered, like a wild animal by a superior predator lurking around her and Caitlyn clings to her jacket, for the first time she knows what it is to be afraid of something that shouldn't generate fear. She knew [Name] since she was little, both of them taking care of younger brothers and sadly [Name]'s younger sister: Lily died at the hands of an Enforcer, and she remembered it late, when she felt the wild tug of Caitlyn's hand and only had a second before turning and seeing Caitlyn on the ground at [Name]'s feet with a firm chain wrapped around Caitlyn's neck. Caitlyn's level, she fears for the first time and more so when the chain continues to tighten, little by little and so slowly that it unhinges her, drives her to despair and she feels the helplessness of seeing how Caitlyn can barely fight, clinging to the chain without being able to flee or move because a boot is pressed hard on her knee from behind, if she breaks her knee it will be impossible for her to get out unharmed herself.

"If it's what it seems Violet, you show up after five years" [Name] hisses in a cold, almost helpless tone of voice "...and you do it with a piltie hanging from your fucking arm, that uniform no matter how much you modify it is still the same" the pink-eyed one ends up saying in the air with an implicit mockery, a fed up and somewhat dull, her cold gaze focused on the chain, on the useless attempt of the enforcer to fight until she cuts off her air enough to knock her down and let her fall to the ground "...you should go back to Piltover, things always change" advises the pink-eyed one

Vi never felt such a visceral fear of being the center of that gaze, of those eyes that she used to love to see because they were a dark tone that cleared up in the sunlight and left a spectrum that fascinated her, eyes that looked at her with shyness and love when they were just two silly teenagers fighting to survive and find themselves among the streets of Zaun. She is afraid, afraid of what might happen and of what she doesn't know, helplessness that runs through her veins so quickly and she wants to fight, her survival instinct comes into play but on the contrary she doesn't seem to care in the least.

"W-why?" Vi questions, with a broken tone seeing Caitlyn on the ground unconscious and only by the slow rise of her back does she confirm that she is not dead but that terrifies her, the notion that she saw death in the eyes of the one she loved and loves the most currently "What happened to you?"

"You say it as if you weren't different yourself" the white-haired girl recites with ease before diving into the dark side of the room and in a second she is out of the opponent's range of vision "... everything changes Violet, people included"

Vi has to swallow dryly, she was moving so fast that she barely managed to keep up with her and that's when she manages to see her, sitting on top of a beam with a bit of dark light coming in from somewhere and she sees her, a long chain in her hands that ends in a sharp end like a scythe or an Oz, but it's so sharp that she fears she might see it cut but she handles it with ease, as if it were an extension of herself.

How much had happened?

"P-powder she, t-she...-" Vi begins uselessly, feeling as helpless and vulnerable as when Sevika told her the truth, because it was the truth and she wants to vomit, everything is coming together in her head

"She works with Silco, like everyone else but with privileges" answers the white-haired one shrugging her shoulders as if it were no big deal

"You too?"

And the taller one with pink hair prays, implores something she never believed in to say no, to shake her head and give her the calm she needs, that there will be no more of that silence so fairy-tale.

"...everyone works for Silco, Violet, don't be naive"

Something breaks, maybe it's the weight of everything and the fear that pushes it as far into her mind as possible, pushing it away so much that she steps forward furiously, fear and terror are changed by anger, courage, indignation and desire to fight, to hit her.

"You too!" Vi exclaimed furiously and when a giggle was heard she wished she could break her mouth "What's so funny?! You betrayed Vander, what he wanted for Zaun! What we hated so much as children!"

"But we are no longer children, understand that once and for all" the pink-eyed woman answers quickly without flinching, playing with the chain, a tacit warning "Vander or not, I needed to survive and make Powder survive, so I had to rip out my heart for that, I was going to do it"

It is like a bucket of cold water, Vi remains silent swallowing dry saliva when the tone of her beloved's voice is heard firm and without hesitation, a ferocity that borders on the unnatural added to the almost violent pink eyes.

"... don't try to tell me that you could have done better, make me laugh" the woman continues speaking before falling from the beam in a single clean jump, revealing for the first time her arms uncovered by the sleeveless blouse and high collar that she wore, a shoulder pad on the right side but fine lines like a break in the skin that light up in a violet pink as if there was light under her skin "Everyone survives in Zaun Violet, don't forget that"

"You talk about survival and all that, but what the hell did Caitlyn do to you that you would do that to her?! You almost killed her!" accuses with a firm and loud tone Vi, quickly approaching the unconscious body when [Name] approaches and leaves her near him, he will not hesitate to fight

"So you already chose, huh? Interesting choice, I hope that doesn't come to bite you in the ass later"

Everything happened so fast that she doesn't know how or when, she should have expected it since what she remembers from her adolescence is that [Name] always managed to take her by surprise and this time is no different, the blow of falling to the ground reaches her extremities first and that's when she notices it, pale, lifeless skin, thin and fine lines of breakage that shine in a pinkish-violet tone as if there was light underneath, her long white hair creates a curtain that isolates them from the world and she sees the dagger so close to her face that she swallows dryly, feeling its weight on herself and the null hesitation of the hands of her beloved, of her heart because [Name] was always her heart and always would be, whether they were fighting eternally or not. He can't help but notice how beautiful she looks, how wild and precious, the intent to kill in her eyes but the emptiness in her gaze.

"...you're just as beautiful as I remember, cupcake" he found himself whispering, despite the sharp edge of the dagger against his neck

And perhaps it was a bad combination of words because the white-cinnamon girl reacted badly, stabbing the dagger very close to his ear, cutting off only a lock of hair.

"...don't you dare call me that name again, it's contaminated" the pink-eyed girl whispered resentfully, before getting up "...take your fucking piltie and get out of here, I don't want to see you, next time I'll kill you and hang you from my tower"

Vi can't help but want to scream when he sees her walk to the window which she opens and jumps through, but when she looks down she can barely see, the pollution and smog make it difficult for her to see, [Name] let her go, she wants to ask so much but she keeps quiet and picks up Caitlyn, they must continue.

He wants to find her again, he will never be able to live properly without her heart.

[gojosprettyprincess]

Kento loves posting couple photos and selfies of the two of you together on Instagram because he wants the whole world to see just how beautiful his dear girl was, he posts them all the time and everyone likes and comments about how adorable the two of you look smiling together, even Gojo teases him about it in the comments.

To everyone you two were this shy, innocent well-put-together couple but what they didn't know was that the sweet darling blond had the hem of your pretty sundress all brunched up on his lap with his cock stuffed soo deep to the hilt inside your warm fluttery walls, where you had huffs of blond pubic hair grazing against your clit soo deliciously that had you grinding against him needily for friction.

In fact about 80% of the selfies you two post together he always has his cock nestled inside of you because he thinks it's such a perfect moment to take a photo with his pretty girl because you look soo perfect and sweet while you're keeping your loving husband's cock, snugged and warm.

He'd be planting soft gentle kisses on your neck trailing up to your ear before whispering "You look so cute right now my love, why don't we take a quick photo yeah?" and then you get all shy telling him just one photo as your cheeks start heating up. His cock twitches against your walls relentlessly as he taps "post" for everyone to see. It's like your dirty little secret that no one else knew but the two of you, They assume that the you two were this innocent and novice couple smiling together happily, not having a single clue what was happening just mere inches below the camera.

[koling2345]

Just Simon with a cute new recruit. NSFW

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

Lieutenant! Simon who: Thought you'd be just another recruit, until he saw that you were such a cute little bird. So obedient and pliable, always listening to what he had to say without refuting it.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Never even looked at any recruit in a different way until you arrived on base. The way you looked at him with sweet little eyes and called him 'Sir' was almost a symphony in his ears.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Loved it when you asked him for help with something on the base, sometimes purposely disappearing with things, only to see you coming after him to find out where that item was.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Made a point of training you, he never let any other superior do it. Not even Johnny. Simon wanted to be solely responsible for your success, or rather, he wanted to be solely responsible for giving you orders. And watching you obey them.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Started glaring daggers at any other soldier who looked at you. Not only that, but any soldier who even spoke to you or flirted with you was magically given a month's worth of hard duties. What a shame ;(

Lieutenant! Simon who: Was in charge of you at the gym, giving you several repetitions of exercises, never passing up an opportunity to put you in some positions that were a bit... Lewd, to say at least. Always keeping a close eye on every exercise you did, his eyes roaming over your body as you knelt down to stand up when you finished a set. The sight always made his pants a little tight.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Always gave you heavy workouts, tiring you to the limit. Just to make sure you'd get tired enough, then he'd have the excuse of helping you to get your bearings. Putting a hand on your lower back. Sometimes even being bold enough to put his hand on your waist, pulling your body against his in an attempt to help you. And if you were really, really tired, he could carry you on his shoulders. No, it wasn't an excuse to stare at your ass and thighs, feeling your body pressed against his. He swore it was just his good intention, he just wanted to help!

Lieutenant! Simon who: Would let you sleep in his room, there was a storm and the base was without power, you didn't want to be alone because you were scared. And he wouldn't let you be alone after learning that you were afraid of thunder, poor thing. That night he wrapped you up in his sheets, pulling you into his lap as he comforted you.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Helped you forget the fierce storm outside, pumping his thick fingers into your pussy, slipping in and out of you, scissoring and curving inside you. He made you come once, twice, three times, enough to make you tired and sleep on his lap, in the mess you made on his thighs, and he didn't care. In fact, he was proud to see the mess you'd made, that he'd given you.

Lieutenant! Simon who: After spending one night with you, he refused to sleep in separate rooms, so every night he dragged you to his room, at which point he already considered you his cute little thing. Normally, he would hold you all night with a death grip, so don't even try to escape.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Couldn't sleep peacefully until he'd buried his cock in you. Sleep only came to him after he had slid his thick cock into your wet folds, deep into your tight warmth. Slamming into you without mercy, he swears that his lullaby is your whimpering sounds under him.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Was mean to you, used you until he had his fill. It didn't matter if you'd already come for the thousandth time, he didn't care, because he went after his own pleasure, he would pound into you all night if he wanted to.Even if you were whimpering underneath him and saying you couldn't take it anymore, he'd respond with:

“You can and you will.”

[silverskyeline]

'messy' 18+

oneshot (request) - logan learns that you can squirt, he indulges in that information (1.8k words) pairing - logan howlett (xmen) x f!reader tags - established relationship, fingering, petnames: babygirl, baby, good girl, praising, kind of overstimulation, squirting, lots of squirting, a little rough, he talks reader through it, wet mentions, reader orgasm, dirty talk, fingers in mouth, logan makes reader taste themselves.

.・。.���゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

you're splayed out on his lap on the sofa just how he likes you to be, nestled on top of his plush, firm thighs. your knees are bent with your ankles resting over either side of his legs, your back flush with his warm chest, your whole body exposed, open, for him.

logan's thick, calloused fingers lazily stroke your clit, earning soft mewls from your lips as your head tilts back over his shoulder. his other hand is ensuring his middle finger pumps in and out of you at a slow pace, your body craving those broad digits stretching your tight walls.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

you're moaning, gripping his arm for dear life as you squirm in his lap, rolling your hips instinctively. it was beautiful, the way he could make you sing for him, the way he could make your body move for him with just a few simple strokes, almost like a puppet, pulling your strings. he would never consider himself your 'master', but god, you'd let him control you whenever he liked.

he smirks, nuzzling his fuzzy beard into the side of your cheek, his lips finding their place at your ear, "that feel good, baby girl?" logan asks, his voice a deep purr. he already knows the answer.

you gasp at his low-toned voice, gruff like gravel but sweet like honey, "yes. . ."

"mh, that's what i thought. . . think you can take a little more though." he huffs, slipping another finger inside.

your walls clench around the sudden new presence and you moan, loudly, craving the feeling of being filled by him in whatever capacity he's willing to give.

"that's it," he coos, picking up the pace, "good girl, gooood girl. . ." logan loves how easily he can slip inside of you, how he'd always find you dripping, cunt aching, core throbbing for him. his sensitive ears perk up at the sweet sounds of your wet pussy taking his fingers in, the wet schlick sounds filling the room.

your cheeks flush, looking down at the way his fingers are making light work of you, your shirt hiked up to expose your breasts. with the pace increasing, and the way he's so sweetly purring filthy words into your ear. . . you feel a sensation start to build.

it's. . . new, almost uncomfortable but not quite. not the same as an orgasm but almost. it pools low in your belly, just a little out of reach.

but his fingers pick up again, slamming deep inside of you, curling just enough. his fingers circling your clit remain slow in contrast, creating a dizzying combination of sensations that have you clenching around him and calling out his name over and over in some desperate plea. desperation for him to continue, for the building feeling, for him, full stop.

the feeling returns. fuck, it almost feels like you need to piss. your cheeks flush, eyes rolling back as you fight back the feeling, but he's rubbing you and touching you and fucking you too good for you to hold anything back.

"logan," you gasp, arching your back, "l-logan wait-"

but it's too late, before he even has the chance to slow down, you squirt. your juices coat his hands, his fingers, dripping down along his arm and onto the sofa below earning a gasp from both of you.

his eyes widen, stopping his movements immediately causing you to whine at the sudden lack of friction.

then there's silence, save for the lewd wet dripping from the sofa onto the hardwood floor.

your head is reeling, did. . . did you just squirt? fuck, you'd never done that before. heart pounding, you swallow hard, instinctively wanting to apologise for the mess, "shit, sorry i-"

"holy fuck. . ." he whispers shakily before you even have the chance to finish your sentence, "where were you hidin' that from me?" you can hear the smirk in his voice clear as day as he talks into your ear.

"what?" you whisper.

he smirks, kissing your ear, "you didn't tell me you could make cute little messes like that, baby."

"i didn't know i could. . ." you admit, biting your lip as you feel the cool air of the room brush against your dripping sensitive core.

logan's eyes widen, the implication of your words nestling deep in his brain, and groin. he was the first ever to make you squirt, the first to make you feel so good that you couldn't help but make a mess for him. pride swells in his chest, manifesting in a low rumbling smug chuckle at the back of his throat.

". . .think you could make another mess for me?" he hums, his fingers on your clit slowly resuming their movements.

you whimper, the new sensation you experienced was foreign but surprisingly welcomed. you had no idea it felt that good, that you could ever do that. but logan has a way of coaxing everything out of you, cock and fingers playing you like an instrument he's mastered.

"don't know. . ." you mumble, suddenly feeling skittish.

it's then that his fingers start fucking you again, gliding in and out easily, your fluttering hole welcoming the movement. "you can, i know you can." he encourages, nibbling at your ear, "you'll be a good girl, you'll make another mess for me, won't you?"

fuck, his words. his fucking words. every single time they had you acting crazy, letting out sounds you didn't know you could make. and he drinks them in, drinks up all those sweet little sounds from that pretty little mouth of yours that he loves so much.

you simply nod, feeling his digits pumping rougher, curling to find that sweet sweet spot once more. you're not sure if you can even do it again, but logan seems pretty fucking set on making him gush for you at least once more.

he scissors his fingers slightly, stretching you, the motion making you whine with pleasure. but when he pushes in a third finger? that's when you really start screaming for him.

"that's more like it, huh?" he grins, breathing deeply through his nose from how hard he's working you, "just needed a bit more, cus' i know you like it thick baby, don't you? like it thick like my cock?"

you want to gasp, to react to his words, but your eyes are rolling back again, mouth stuck open in an 'o' shape as you feel that sensation build once more. your body is tensing, thighs clenching, back arching, eyes squeezing shut. subconsciously you hold your breath as if that'll help. he's got you right where he wants you, right where he knows you want to be.

seconds later you're gushing, more this time - it lands on the hardwood below with a crude splash and coats his hands nicely. logan laughs, a deep dirty laugh as you writhe. he gives a gentle slap to your clit, then a firmer one, causing more to spill from you along with some squeaks.

"there we go, good girl, what a good girl. . ." you can hear the smirk in his voice, the wide grin he's wearing, the smugness lacing every word that leaves his lips, "feels good to make a mess for me, doesn't it?"

you're breathless, panting, overwhelmed in the best way. and then he speaks again.

". . . i think you can handle one more." logan purrs, movements suddenly fast and hard. his fingers fuck deep into you, curling to hit your g-spot with each calculated thrust. the fingers on your clit speed up, rubbing in practiced circles sending sparks of electricity throughout your body.

you want it too, you'd give it to him over and over again, create messes all night long if your body let you.

god you'd do anything for him, especially in that moment, and how could you not? the way his fingers play with you, toy with you, slide into you. . .

"d-don't know if i can!" you admit, huffing, trying to get more air.

but he shakes his head, "yes you can." is all he says, firmly.

and he's right. moments later you feel it pooling in your belly once more, the accompanying orgasm approaching that threatens to throw you overboard. you're lost in a sea of sensations, stars in your vision, his voice in your ear the only anchor you have to reality. you let it guide you, until you're drenching his fingers and jeans once more, voice ringing out within his bedroom as his voice coaxes and praises you softly.

his fingers on your clit come together to slap down against you, each smack against your sensitive bundle of nerves causing more to spray. you're making such a big mess, his jeans are damp. he doesn't care. this is what he wants, and fuck, if you don't feel the best you've ever felt in your entire life. . .

he keeps going, his fingers steadily pumping into you roughly, desperate to get every last drop as he feels you clamp down around his fingers. you're moaning, gasping, gripping onto his arm for dear life as you ride out your orgasm. it's too much, but it's also perfect. logan watches on in deep satisfaction as you writhe on his lap, his bulge pressing against you above him, cock twitching and rock hard just from touching you.

as your body relaxes, so do his movements, slowing down. he glides his fingers in a few times, enjoying the slick sounds they make before pulling them from your still-fluttering hole. he lazily drifts his damp digits along your tummy, leaving a trail of wetness up to your chest until it finds your mouth.

you part your lips gladly, turning your head to look up at him through hooded lids as you take his fingers in your mouth. diligently, your tongue laps at his fingers, reeling at the taste of yourself on him, dripping from him.

"good girl, you're always so fuckin' good for me. . ." he smiles, kissing your forehead as he watches you, his free hand resting on your tummy. you enjoy the feeling of his large palm against you, making you feel comforted whilst also grounding you after that whirlwind of release.

you pull his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop, instead kissing along his fingers and down across the sensitive skin of his knuckles. a silent thank you, for making you feel so good.

logan watches keenly, growling quietly at the stirring in his groin. his eyes flash with something. you'd call it mischief.

your eyes flit up to his, knowing what he's thinking before he's even said it.

"wonder what else you can do. . ." he smirks, "keeping any other secrets from me?" logan asks as he rolls his hips against you, prompting you to feel how hard he is for you and you exhale, relaxing back against him.

it was funny, how he could always push you right to the edge when you think you're spent.

and yet have you craving more. . .

you grin, biting your lip, "wanna find out?"

[slightly-knot-insane]

Defeated Monster

tw noncon

There is nothing more empowering than riding your enemy's cock while he spits and curses you. But he is hard. For you. For your body. You can see it in his blood-shot eyes. He is tied down, beaten by you, completely covered in cuts and bruises. The big bad monster defeated.

"Accept I'm your mistress now. You are mine to do whatever I wish with. My slave."

You bite his swollen nipple one more time while bouncing up and down against his shaft. He is sweating, furiously trying to break his bonds. You laugh. All his efforts are futile - you made these chains just for him. They fit him perfectly just like his dick fills your hole completely, stretching you just right.

He is trying to suppress his moans. But his desire is throbbing inside your pussy, betraying him. You rock your hips back and forth, moaning in pleasure, gloating in your victory. He hates your guts but can't mask how much he enjoys being fucked by you.

Just before you are washed over by your orgasm, you stand up, sliding off his erection, and squirt all over him, shaking from pleasure. He snarls and tense, chains dangerously vibrating from his strength. You moan in ecstasy, rubbing your wet cunt, and his exposed cock twitches before spurting his hot seed all over your thighs that arched above it.

"Aaaaah fuck! Fuck!" He is furious, humiliated beyond words. His own body failed him.

You laugh, licking your own arousal from your fingers while his cum tickles your skin. "Don't worry - you'll get used to this, my pet."