#requests are always open it's just when i start writing them

[sun-kissy]

Hi San! I absolutely loveee your writing, and I thought I'd go ahead an request smth since it said your request were open! ☺️

Could I please ask for gn!reader x Remus Lupin, where reader is struggling during Christmas time and holidays, feeling guilty because of how much they're spending and how much others spend on them? I'd be so grateful, thank you so much! 🫶

i’m sorry for getting to this kind of late babe! but i hope you’re still able to enjoy 💕🫶

worth it | r.l.

remus lupin x gn!reader

summary: you don’t feel like you deserve remus’ gifts, he thinks you deserve the world

Remus arches an eyebrow. “None of them?”

“None of them,” you confirm, dumping all the clothes you tried on into the basket outside the fitting room. He wraps an arm around your waist on instinct, pulling you close as you walk.

“Not even the black one with the nice design?” Remus brushes his lips to your hairline, little squeeze to your hip. “That looked lovely on you, sweetheart.”

You shake your head. You feel bad, and then again bad for feeling bad. It’s inescapable.

His frown seems to deepen, though he lets you pull him along and out the shop. “I thought you liked it, though. Didn’t you?” He pinches your waist teasingly. “Or were you just saying that to appease me?”

“No, no. I did like it,” you murmur, subtly trying to steer Remus towards the carpark so you can go home. He didn’t take the hint, or maybe he didn’t want to, continuing to walk further into the mall. “I just… don’t need it.”

“But you want it.”

“No, I don’t want it.”

“Are you sure?” he smiles. “‘Cause it didn’t seem like you didn’t want it when you tried it and were showing it off –”

“Yes, I’m sure.” It comes out snappy, and you regret it instantly. “Sorry.”

He looks hurt for a brief moment, grip on your waist loosening. But then his mouth falls back into a thin line, not hostile but not quite a smile either. “No, dove, I’m sorry.” He bends down to kiss your cheek. Guilt seeps into the skin where his lips just touched. “I’m sorry. I don’t want this to feel like I’m forcing you, yeah? It’s okay if you didn’t like it.”

“Sorry,” you mumble again. He tsks, his way of gently chiding you not to apologise.

You walk around the atrium in silence for a bit. The mall is more crowded than usual, bustling sales and exhilarated mobs of shoppers. The holiday season was always like this.

Remus had gotten you some really lovely books you’d been wanting for Christmas. Along with some video games, clothes, jewellery, the lot. He had woken you up with a bunch of kisses, given you even more although your face fell at the sight of all the presents.

You hated it. Not the gifts, and you certainly didn’t hate Remus. It just didn’t feel like you deserved any of it, much less so much. Too much. He didn’t have to spend this much money on you, money he barely had, but he did – he did, even though you were worth none of it. It made you feel like the worst lover in the world.

“Hey, wait,” Remus tugs you to a stop. He sounds almost excited.

His hand drops from your waist to point at a shop. “That’s the one with the jewellery you like, isn’t it?”

“No,” you lie.

He gives you a funny look. You feel your heart start to climb up your ribcage.

“Come on, sweetheart. You’ve been talking about the silver necklace all year, can’t believe I didn’t get you it for Christmas. But it’s no worry, we can get it now.” His hand closes around yours as he moves towards the shop. You don’t budge.

Remus turns back towards you, confusion in his features obvious. “Dove?”

“No.”

He blinks. “Huh?”

You tear your eyes away from the necklace set on display. “I don’t… I don’t even like that shop, Rem. Dunno what you’re talking about.” You try to sound as nonchalant as you can.

Remus frowns at you but says nothing. It feels like he’s looking right through you, like he’s digging through your skull to find your secrets. It makes your heart flip some awful way.

Then he softens. The tension in his features dissipates, he gazes at you some colour of affectionate. You know he’s figured you out.

“What’s this about?” he asks anyway.

The gentle tone catches you off guard. “Nothing.”

“Hey, no,” he slides his hand up to your wrist, lightly squeezing. “Talk to me.”

“It really is nothing,” you protest meekly. “I told you, I just don’t like that shop. Or jewellery in general.”

“Sure you don’t,” he murmurs bemusedly, humouring you. He takes your other wrist into the curve of his palm too. “Why don’t you want me spending money on you, sweetheart?”

“What? No, no. It’s not that,” you answer quickly. “It’s just, um…”

Remus gives you a knowing smile. That melts the last bit of fight in you.

You sigh. “I just… I don’t want you wasting your money on me.”

“It’s not a waste, dove,” he says gently, thumbing your wrists. “Not if it’s you.”

“But it is,” you swallow. “I don’t – I don’t deserve it, all the presents, and money, and effort. I don’t.”

His face falls, smile dimming a little. But he still looks at you like you’re the prettiest thing on the planet. “That’s not true. Not one bit.”

You stay quiet.

“You do deserve it, sweet thing,” he continues, and you really want to believe him. “It’s not too much, it’s not a burden. You’re not a burden, y’know?”

“I know I’m not a burden.”

He presses a kiss to the soft skin between your brows. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like you do, dove.”

“I like buying you things. I like spending money on you, making you feel loved. Because you are –” another peck to your nose, “– you are so loved. And you deserve to know it, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumble. “You love me, got it.”

Remus pulls you closer, needles his arm under yours to hold you in a half hug. “I do love you, sweetheart. And it was never my intention to bombard you with stuff, or make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his stomach. “I don’t feel uncomfortable, just… overwhelmed. But not in a bad way.”

“Got it,” he says gently, pulling you in for a proper hug. You go easily. “Let’s start slow then, yeah? First things first, I’m gonna buy you that necklace.”

[lizziesangel]

This is a request if that’s ok!! But will you be able to write nerd!Rafe and sweetheart!reader where they’re both in the same class and the reader gifts Rafe a Valentine’s Day gift for being such a gentleman💝💝

thank you for your request, angel! ughhhh, i love this!!

also, thank you for 2K followers and all the support i receive from all of you!

rafe was used to feeling out of place. the textbooks, lectures, and glaring fluorescent lights of the classroom weren’t exactly his comfort zone, but having you by his side made it all manageable. the way you’d always flash him that sweet, reassuring smile or sneak little notes his way—it reminded him that he wasn’t alone. you believed in him, and that was enough to keep him going.

today was valentine's day, and while the class droned on about derivatives, rafe kept sneaking glances your way. you were taking diligent notes, your lips quirking up at something the professor said. you had no idea that just being here made his heart feel ten times lighter.

when the lecture finally ended, the shuffle of books and chatter filled the room, but you turned to him, your eyes were twinkling.

“hey, wait a second,” you said, fishing around in your bag.

he raised a brow, his curiosity piqued. “what are you up to?”

“close your eyes,” you commanded, your tone sweet but firm.

he hesitated, his cheeks already starting to flush. “oh, c’mon, seriously?”

“yes, seriously!” you giggled, and the sound alone made his chest tighten. “just trust me.”

reluctantly, rafe shut his eyes. he heard the faint rustle of tissue paper and felt something soft and warm being pressed into his hands.

“okay, open them.”

rafe blinked down at the small gift in his hands—a neatly wrapped box with a red bow on top. tucked into the ribbon was a card that read, to my favorite gentleman.

his heart stuttered as he opened the box to reveal a knitted scarf in his favorite color and a box of his favorite chocolates.

“you got this for me?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

“of course,” you said, your smile bright and proud. “you’re such a sweetheart, baby. i just wanted to do something to show how much i appreciate you. you’ve been so kind and thoughtful… you deserve it.”

rafe’s cheeks turned a deep shade of pink, and he looked down, fiddling with the edge of the scarf. a lopsided smile tugged at his lips, but he couldn’t meet your gaze.

“you didn’t have to do this,” he mumbled, his voice tinged with both shyness and gratitude. “it’s… wow, thank you. i mean it.”

you leaned closer, resting your hand on his arm. “you’re welcome. but there’s no need to be so shy about it, baby. you deserve nice things.”

he chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “i, uh, actually got you something too,” he admitted, his smile turning sheepish. “it’s just… back at home. i didn’t bring it because i didn’t know if we were doing, you know, the whole valentine’s day thing in school.”

you laughed softly, your heart swelling at his awkward charm. “it’s okay. i didn’t do this to get something in return. but now i’m curious…”

rafe glanced at you, finally meeting your gaze. His blush deepened, but his grin was brighter than ever. “guess you’ll just have to wait and see, sweetheart.”

you laughed, and he swore he’d never heard a sound so beautiful. for the rest of the day, rafe wore his new scarf, his chest warm with more than just wool. and that evening, when he handed you his gift—a heartfelt letter and a delicate bracelet—you realized you’d never been happier.

because awkward, blushing rafe cameron was yours—and that was the best gift of all.

[crepezinhos]

omgeee. I see requests are open...can we please get wanderer orrr Kabukimono in a dress? A cute little smut fic? This stuff has me UGH. I just want to see him in feminine attire but I'm busy writing something else, so the next best thing is to ask someone else and HOPEE

No pressure <3 thoo

My Little Geisha~

“You know… I think I should start being more grateful for you. Wanna know why..?” You leaned down to whisper in his ear as you continued thrusting a dildo in his g-spot from behind, a spot that you had just discovered, actually.

“W-Why..?” He continued pushing his head against the pillow under him, mumbling most of his voice.

“Because if it weren’t for you, I would’ve never found out how beautiful you look in a kimono and a veil, and how fun it is to peg you on it while calling you a… good boy.” You made sure to coo when calling him a ‘good boy’, which forced a whimper out of his mouth.

“Y-You little— aAAH!!” He was about to rise his head from the pillow to insult you with his stare, but you made sure he didn’t do that by using a hand to slide under his body and hardly stroke his bricked, pre-cumming cock.

“What would’ve been of me if I hadn’t walked on the one and only, Hat Guy, trying out a random kimono and veil I’ve never seen while using my makeup and hairpins without my permission?” You proceeded to whisper on his ear as if you weren’t making the poor puppet scream for his dear life. “No need to feel embarrassed, darling, I think you look mesmerizing on it…” You kissed the back of his neck after reassuring him before continuing. “But if I were you, I would feel very embarrassed to have the dildo I used to fuck my girlfriend with being used on me.” Your tone changed to sexier tone that brought him to lean his ass up to you even more.

“S-Shut up and go faster..!” You could see his hands tightening their grip and the sheets under him as he tried to keep his voice stable.

“Faster? I’ll go faster…” You chuckled in the back of your throat as you rose your body up and begun being more precise with the dildo in your hands.

He couldn’t help but slide his legs apart from each other even more than before, melting at how you had quickened your pace.

“Such a good boy…” You tapped his left buttock as a way to approve his manners as you cooed like he was some little puppy.

“Why do you even like dressing up like a woman? If I knew about it earlier, I would’ve definitely helped you with your makeup!” You asked more seriously to him, but made sure to always keep him overstimulated.

“I don’t know…” He whimpered under the pillow, trying to ignore you to focus on the pleasure he was receiving.

“Oh, come on… tell me!” You begun stroking and jerking his cock faster to convince him, causing him to moan high-pitched.

You could even feel a few drops of cum sprinkling off him, all of them falling on the palm of your hand.

“G-Gonna cum..!” Wanderer announced the good news as if it was a war cry.

“Cum for me, my little geisha~…” You continued cooing to him in that same merciful tone although you were being merciless to him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He kept whimpering multiple insults and bad words as you obliterated his manually-lubricated hole.

You were struggling to push the vibrator in and out with how tights his hole actually was, no matter how much lubricant you applied to the dildo and him. It needed you to get up to make sure all of the precision and strength of your hands were being used to push Wanderer over his edge the same way he’d do to you when he topped.

His hands slid under the pillow where he was drowning his face at, trying to make the contact he did with it even harder for you to not hear to his shameless screams and failed makeup attempt. You didn’t care really for it, but it’s not only his first time ever being pegged by you, but the first time you’d ever seen him in such feminine clothes.

“Oh, I can certainly feel you cumming…” You cooped your palms on the leaking tip of his dick, trying to pump it out of it directly in your hands.

And those movements definitely brought his body to go insane with its hormones levels, resulting in a very precocious orgasm that left on him on edge of insanity. To have an enormous dildo shoved down his hole, bullying a sensitive spot, while his dick spasmed cum in your palm was a feeling that he’d never expect to feel so good. No matter if he used to torture you just like that, anal and oral sex, he thought it’d feel lame with roles switched.

Thank God you didn’t find his request weird… and thank God he got to experience what it was like to be the one receiving a cock.

“L-Listen… would you be ok if I asked you to try… uhm… to be… the one… thrusting..?” His puppy eyes, being accentuated by his pathetic makeup and feminine clothing made it impossible for you to neglect.

Just remembering him asking you that made you feel sorrow for the situation you were putting him in, but also glad to be the only one he trusts to do such an intimate act.

After a few seconds of Wanderer himself thrusting his hips against the air, you felt a final thin rope of cum add itself to the little thick pod of cum in the center of your palm.

“There you go~…” You gently leaned down and smooched his cheek with a whole load of love while he still drooled and breathed in exhaustion. “How do you feel?” You whispered in his ear.

“G-Good… Really good…” His hips were still shivering every now and then at the fact that the dildo remained shoved down his hole.

“Good boy…” You patted the back of his head.

“T-Thank you for… this…” He finally turned his head to the side, finally making eye contact with you.

“Open your mouth.” You quickly pulled out your hand that remained messy with his cum, and he obediently took the order like a trained dog.

He begun licking and swallowing the cum that rested in your hand, rope by rope, cleaning your hand crystal clear.



“Such a good boy..!” You patted his head in appreciation for he obedience, very glad that you were experiencing that side of Wanderer. “But seriously, why do you do it?” You finally laid down on the bed too by his side, still making eye contact with him.

“It’s nunya.” His eyes turned serious again, just like the Wanderers you fell in love with him.

“It’s all my business.” You argued back before he could even dare insulting you.

“I guess it’s just…” His hands finally started pushing him upwards, and Wanderer quickly turned and sat on the bed before finishing speaking. “I was supposed to be a girl when my mom first started drafting me, and I guess that led her into putting a lot of… estrogen… on me…” He looked away from you and pulled his kimono upwards, trying to cover his chest after having it exposed for so long.

“That’s cute.” You treated him with honesty, which made him immediately get triggered.

“No, it’s not! He screamed at you with that cute little annoyed face of his, looking even more pathetic with the makeup.

“Yes, it is.” You remained chill.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t start this.”

“I already did.”

And the conversation quickly enrolled into multiple other topics until both his and your eyes couldn’t keep themselves open anymore.

Taglist: @shyentsfoundherink @kindofshyent @the-stinky-winky @alatusorrow @bigmantiddys @luminieee @goofy-ego

[springtyme]

Can we get pregnant reader and baby Spencer pls? Like seasson 1-5 ish 🥹 It would be so cute, i just know he would be so excited but also nervous to be a dad. Thank you ❤️ Love you sm! Your writing is always so amazing

𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ♡

Thank you for the request, anon <3 This was such a cute idea!

Spencer Reid x afab!reader || Masterlist || Spencer playlist

summary: After a week apart Spencer is back home to navigate your early pregnancy together.  

word count: 2.1k

tags: Fluff. Comfort. Pregnant reader. No use of y/n.

The sun peeks through the blinds of you and Spencer’s shared apartment, casting a soft glow on the room. You lay in bed, your hand resting on your stomach, a small smile dancing on your lips. It has been almost two months since you discovered the little secret that is growing inside you. You haven’t really started to show yet, but it can’t be long until you do. 

Spencer is still asleep next to you, his unruly hair splayed across the pillow. You turn on your side, admiring the way his long eyelashes brush against his cheeks. He looks so peaceful in his slumber, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth in your chest from the sight of him. The faint sound of his breathing fills the quiet room, a soothing rhythm that lulls you deeper into your thoughts. It is a surreal experience, knowing that in just six months’ time, the two of you will become three. 

It was not planned, you’re both still young and navigating the complexities of life, Spencer’s job with the BAU demanding long hours and intense focus, not to mention the dangers that come along with it. There is a lot of uncertainty, but you’re happy. Very, very happy. There is no one you would rather do this with than him. 

He came home late last night from a case. He was gone for almost a week, and you have missed him terribly. You always miss him when he is away, of course, but the ache of his absence feels way more severe now, compounded by the whirlwind of emotions swirling in your mind about the future, as well as the hormones that seem to be amplifying just about everything. 

You shift slightly, careful not to disturb his slumber. Your fingers brush against the soft fabric of his t-shirt, the familiar scent of his shampoo wrapping around you like a warm hug. You can already picture him reading to the baby, the two of them snuggled together on the couch, his voice low and soothing as he spins tales of adventure and knowledge. 

You scoot closer to him, nestling into the crook of his arm, seeking comfort in his presence. The warmth radiating from his body is inviting, and you close your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to breathe in the serenity of the morning.

The minutes pass slowly, and the sun continues to rise, illuminating the room with golden hues. Spencer shifts beside you, his arm wrapping around you instinctively, pulling you closer. You can’t help but chuckle softly, delighted by his subconscious need to keep you near. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes about the kind of father he will be—protective, nurturing, and endlessly loving.

You sigh constantly as you settle further into his embrace. Spencer begins to stir slightly, his eyes slowly fluttering open, blinking sleepily as he processes the morning light until they finally focus on you, a soft, sleepy smile spreading across his face. “Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep but laced with warmth and affection.

“Good morning, handsome,” you reply, unable to suppress your smile in return. 

His smile widens, but you don’t miss the tiny glint of concern in his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good, I think I’m finally over the morning sickness stage,” you say, “Just a little queasy here and there, but nothing I can’t handle. A little tired too, but I think that’s to be expected.”

Spencer’s gaze drops to where your hand rests, his brow furrowing slightly as he processes your words. “Tired, tired? Or… emotionally tired?” He tilts his head slightly, his hazel brown eyes searching yours with a mixture of concern and curiosity. 

“Maybe a bit of both. I mean, it’s hard to keep track of my feelings these days. Sometimes I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster, and I didn’t even buy a ticket,” you admit, smiling softly as you reach your hand out to brush a few errant strands of hair from his face and tuck them behind his ear. He grabs your hand, gently pulling it from his ear to his lips and placing a soft kiss on your palm. The gesture sends a flutter through your heart, a reminder of how deeply he cares for you and the little life you’re nurturing together. 

“I’m here for you, you know that, right?” Spencer says, his voice steady and reassuring. “Whatever you need, just tell me.”

You nod, feeling a swell of gratitude for him. “I know, and I appreciate it. Honestly, just having you here makes everything feel better. Even when you’re away, just knowing you’re out there doing what you do best… It’s comforting.”

Spencer’s expression softens, and he nods, understanding the weight of your words. “It’s tough being away from you, especially now... I wish I could be around more, be more present.” His brows knit, his gaze falling to your hand which he’s still holding, his thumb gently rubbing circles over your knuckles. “Honestly… I’m scared.” Spencer’s voice trails off, his vulnerability hanging in the air between you like a delicate thread.

You can see the internal struggle etched across his features, the way his mind races with possibilities and fears. “Scared..?” you prompt gently, encouraging him to share what’s weighing on his heart. A beat of silence unfolds between you as he gathers his thoughts. 

“Yeah,” he finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared about being a dad. That I’m not going to be good enough… I don’t know one thing about being a dad… My own dad didn’t teach me anything, besides how not to be one…” His voice cracks slightly. “And it’s not like I can just look it up in a book,” he continues, his eyes searching yours for understanding. You could argue against that, he has been buying a lot of parenting books, but you know what he really means. 

Your heart aches at his raw honesty. You turn to face him fully, propping yourself up on one elbow so you can look into his eyes. “You’re going to be an amazing dad. I know you will. You’re already doing so much for us, Spence. Just being you is enough. You’re so kind and intelligent, you have so much love to give. You’ve always been there for me, and I know you’ll be there for our baby too.”

He shakes his head slightly, the doubt still lingering in his expression. “But parenting is a whole different ball game. What if I don’t know how to handle everything? What if I don’t have the right answers?”

You lean closer, cupping his cheek with your hand. You know him well enough to know exactly how his mind works in situations like this, that he is about to go into overdrive, his mind racing with scenarios that haven’t even happened yet, letting his mind spiral into a whirlpool of ‘what-ifs’ and doubts, but you’re not going to let him do that now.  

“You don’t have to have all the answers. No one does. It’s okay to be uncertain. What matters is that you care, and that you’re willing to learn and grow. We’ll figure this out together, I promise.”

Spencer’s eyes soften at your words, though the worry doesn’t completely dissipate. “I just want to be the best for you both. I want to give our child everything I didn’t have.”

“Spence,” you say gently, “you are already giving them so much. You’re here, you care, and you’re already thinking about what it means to be a parent. That’s what matters. It’s not about being perfect; it’s about doing your best.”

He exhales slowly, processing your words, and you can see the tension in his shoulders begin to ease just a fraction. 

You lean in and kiss him softly, feeling the weight of the world lift just a little more with the tender touch of his lips against yours. When you pull away, you look into his eyes, wanting him to see the sincerity in your gaze. “We’ll make mistakes along the way, but we’ll learn from them. And we’ll always do the best we can.” 

Spencer nods slowly, his expression shifting from doubt to a tentative hope. For a while he just stares at you, openly and vulnerable, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail of your face. The sunlight continues to pour into the room, casting a warm halo around the two of you, and in that moment, everything feels right.   “You’re so beautiful,” he finally whispers, his voice filled with admiration. 

You feel a flush of warmth spread across your cheeks at his compliment, and you can’t help but smile, feeling cherished and loved. “You’re not too bad yourself, genius,” you tease gently, nudging him playfully.

Spencer chuckles softly, the sound a delightful melody that fills the air around you. “I still can’t believe we’re having a baby,” he says, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief. “It feels surreal.”

“Surreal is definitely one word for it,” you agree, your heart swelling with affection. 

“And you’re already so good at it,” he adds, his gaze unwavering as he takes in your expression.“You’re going to be an incredible mom.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you can feel the warmth spreading through you again. “I really hope so,” you say, your voice soft. 

A comfortable silence settles between you, filled only with the sounds of your breathing and the gentle hum of the city waking up outside your window. It’s a moment just for the two of you, where the world outside feels far, far away, leaving just the two of you and the little life growing inside you.

Spencer shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to mirror your position. He places a warm palm on your stomach, his fingers splayed gently across your shirt. You can feel the heat of his hand seeping through the cotton, and a wave of comfort washes through you. “I can’t believe our little one is in there,” he murmurs, his eyes wide with wonder.

You nod, a smile breaking across your face. “I know, right?” You lean into his touch, reveling in the connection that’s forming not just between you and Spencer, but also between the baby and their father.

“Do you have a feeling about what they’re gonna be? Girl or boy?” 

“No,” you shake your head with a smile. “I know people say they usually have a feeling one way or another, but I honestly don’t know. I’m just excited to meet them, no matter what.”     

Spencer nods thoughtfully, his fingers still resting on your stomach, his brow furrows slightly in thought before he responds. “I think I’d like to have a little girl,” he says after a moment. His voice is soft, almost shy as he speaks.

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Oh really? Why a little girl?”

“I mean, I will be happy no matter what—ecstatic, really. I already am. It’s just that when I picture them, it’s a girl.” Spencer replies, his thumb caressing your stomach softly. “I can already picture her sitting on my lap, just like how my mom used to do with me when she read me stories… I am pretty scared about all of this, but I’m also really, really excited. I want you to know that.” His voice is filled with sincerity, and you can see the determination in his eyes.

You can’t help but smile at the image he paints, a vision of a little girl nestled in his lap. It’s a beautiful thought, and you can already picture the kind of father he will be—patient, loving, and endlessly supportive. “I think you’d be amazing with a little girl,” you say, your voice laced with warmth. “And I don’t doubt that you’re excited. Not for one second.” You learn forward, softly pressing your lips against his in a soft, tender kiss. 

The kiss lingers. Spencer removes his hand from your stomach to instead cup your cheek. When you finally pull back, Spencer’s eyes are sparkling, filled with a mixture of awe and affection. “I can’t wait to watch you become a mom,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’s afraid to break the magic of the moment. 

You nod, feeling a swell of gratitude that he’s chosen this journey with you. “And I can’t wait to see you as a dad.”

As the sun continues to rise, bathing the room in warmth and light, you feel an overwhelming sense of hope and love. You lean back into his embrace, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

“Whatever happens,” you whisper, “we’ll do it together. Always together.”

“Always,” he echoes, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

[suuniyunnio]

squid game

HII this is my first time writing here soo im so sorry if this is a little underwhelming<3

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ SQUID GAME | the 'recruiter' x reader !

! , when the reader is just a random small waitress, meets a man with a suit and a stack of cash accompanied by.. ddakji in his brief case?

Life fucking sucks.

That's one thing that life teaches you, and you've learnt that you've had nothing good happen so far in your life other than the fact that you got yourself a job, even if for a small amount, a car to sleep in and food to eat because you've got nothing else.

"Was I a shitty communist in my previous life?" you muttered to yourself, wiping the table with a cloth as you occasionally mutter small remarks regarding a customer or you, in general. Cleaning up the table from spilled alcohol from a drunkard for what felt like the 7th time, you were starting to think every thing thrown at you felt like karma for whatever bad you did before.

A single ding could be heard from the rundown restaurant as you steadied yourself to greet the customer, smiling rather forcefully and turning your head over to meet whoever came in, your eyes was a rather tall man with a suit and a briefcase who offered you a small smile and a nod along your way.

well, there goes the rest of your luck for the week.

'whatever.' you thought to yourself before shaking your head and heading to the counter to throw the used rag on the previously messy table and making your way to the man. You prayed this man wasn't going to molest you or scam you, but with the way the man looks you doubt any man with a suit would do such thing, any person in general... hopefully.

"Good evening, what can I get for you?" You asked with a tilted head, watching as he taps a few times on the table before looking up at you. What's a man like him doing here, in this shitty place always conquered by assholes?

he looks kind, for the most part.

"Excuse me, can I get two glass of soju?" The man asks as he sets down the briefcase, a kind smile on his face. You sighed internally before nodding in his way, before making your way to the kitchen to prepare two glass of soju. Two glass, huh. probably meeting a client, but why here anyway?

Coming back to the man with two glasses of soju, you hoped he didn't complain before setting them down with a small 'enjoy' and a turn of a head before he called out for you.

"Kyung Y/N."

You probably shouldn't have stopped in your steps and looked back, you probably should've convinced yourself you were hearing things but you didn't. You turned your head around slowly and locked eyes with the man, your expression dropping, but before you could say anything he gestured to the seat in front of him and said , "Take a seat."

A mistake on your part, because you did sit. Taking a seat in front of the man, he took one glass of soju before subtly gesturing to the other cup for you to take it, hesitating to speak a little you shook your head and narrowed your eyes at him.

"Can I help you, sir?" You asked, a silent request from him as you watch him set down the cup and folding his hand on the table. tilting his head, he spoke, "A very unfortunate situation for a pretty lady, a pity." he cooed, and smacked his lips. 

You tensed a little, gosh, guess your luck did run out. Before you could say anything, he raised a finger before he pulled his suitcase and opened it. Inside, you could see stacks of cash and .. ddakji?

"Would you like to play a game of ddakji with me, miss?"

"I am sorry?"

"Ddakji." he repeated before showing you the red and blue paper, gosh now you were starting to think this man was not okay at all. For whatever reason it was, no matter what you were gonna say you just keep getting interrupted. "For every round you win, you'll get 10,000 won. but if you lose.." he clears his throat before standing up, you standing up momentarily afterwards too.

"You'll pay with your body."

"absolutely no-"

"a slap, I mean." the man quickly corrected himself, adjusting his tie before he looks down at you. Holding out the blue paper, and a tilted head, you stared down at the paper. win a game of ddakji.. for 10,000 won? Is this where your luck finally comes into play?

Hesitating for a split minute, you sighed and picked up the paper. The man seemed delighted, with the way he whistled and nodded in approval.

well.

"ouch," a loud slap was heard after the 6th game. your cheeks is red after being harassed by this man, but hey? money is money, and you were gonna get there eventually.

"here we go," rubbing the red paper in your hands, you blew a wind to it before using all your force into throwing the paper and baam!

the paper flipped, and words couldn't express the joy you felt after seeing how it actually flipped to the other side, as if it was your only achievement in years. The man, idly standing, clapped before retrieving 100,000 won and handing the crisp bill right into your hands.

"thank you, sir." you thanked him and looked down at the bill, before looking up and realizing the man had disappeared, the cup of soju had been drank and sat empty, next to it was a card with three shapes.

Circle, square, triangle.

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

request: can you write one where the sister is newly 21 so she’s at the bar but she’s without her brothers because she decided to stop there last minute just for a drink. She ends up getting drugged and she rushes to the bathroom and calls her brothers for help. The guy ends up breaking the door down but before anything happens really, Sam and Dean rush in and take care of it. The drug is tripping her out and she throws up outside too. I know you’ve already kind of done these stories but I thought a mix of them box could be good. I don’t know I thought this could be an interesting story.

A/N: Hi!! I hope you like this! Even if I’ve already written something I’ll continue to write more if you request them— I don’t mind! This was a great request. Requests are always open!

Warnings- drugs/roofies, attempted SA,

Sam and Dean Winchester x sister!Reader

The neon lights of the bar buzzed faintly above you, flickering like the last remnants of the day’s energy. It was crowded, loud, the kind of place where people went to forget. You weren’t here for that—just trying to blow off some steam after the last hunt. But now, as you sat on a barstool, sipping your drink and scanning the room, everything felt off. The glass in your hand was suddenly heavier than you remembered, and your vision, sharp a moment ago, now felt blurry around the edges.

Focus, you told yourself. You needed to focus. But it was like someone had turned the volume down on the world, muffling the voices around you, the laughter, the clinking of glasses. Everything was... distant.

The man who had been sitting next to you moments ago was now gone, his seat empty. You didn’t even remember him leaving. That’s when you started to feel it—the overwhelming sense that something wasn’t right. It wasn’t the alcohol; it wasn’t the atmosphere. It was the weird, creepy sensation crawling under your skin, like a thousand invisible fingers skittering across your arms. Your hands were trembling now, and you tried to steady them against the bar, but it was no use. You were suddenly very aware of how heavy your eyelids felt.

The bathroom.

You needed to get to the bathroom. Now.

You lurched from your seat, your legs unsteady beneath you, and staggered across the room. Everything seemed to sway around you, like the world had gone drunk on its own axis. The door to the bathroom felt miles away, but somehow, you made it, your palm flat against the cool metal as you pushed it open. Slamming the door shut behind you and locking it.

Inside, the bathroom was a small, dimly lit space. The fluorescent lights flickered above, casting an eerie glow on the tiles. Your back was against the door before you stumbled forward, gripping the sink tightly as the nausea hit, a wave of dizziness so intense it felt like the floor might just swallow you whole.

What the hell was happening?

The panic started to creep in, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts. Your heart thudded in your chest like a drumbeat, faster and faster, and your hands were shaking so badly you could barely hold onto the edge of the sink.

You didn’t know what was happening to you, but you knew it wasn’t normal. You knew you weren’t just drunk. This felt like something else. Something... worse.

No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.

Your mind started to race—too many thoughts at once, too many wrong things. Your vision swam in and out of focus, the edges of the room blurring and then snapping back into clarity, only to fade again. A sick, icy dread curled in your stomach as you realized: you weren’t going to be able to get out of here. You were losing control.

No. No, I can’t pass out here. I can’t—

You fumbled for your phone in your pocket, your fingers slipping against the smooth screen. It took everything you had to unlock it and call the one number you knew could help you, the one person who could always save you.

Dean.

You dialed his number, your heart pounding so loud you thought it might drown out the ringtone. The phone rang once, twice, before it clicked, and his voice came through, sharp and worried.

“(Y/N), what’s up?” Dean’s voice was still upbeat, though you could tell he was trying to be casual, not knowing that everything inside of you was falling apart.

“D-Dean?” you stammered, struggling to get the words out as your chest tightened. You could feel the tears pricking at your eyes, your voice trembling, but you couldn’t help it. “I... I... I don’t know what’s happening. Something’s wrong, Dean... I... I think I’m... I don’t know... I think I’m gonna pass out or something.”

“Hey, hey, (Y/N), what’s going on? What’s happening?” Dean’s voice was sharp, laced with panic and urgency. “Where are you? Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“Dean… I don’t know, I don’t know,” you gasped, your words slurring and getting caught in your throat. The spinning was getting worse. The walls of the bathroom felt like they were closing in on you. “I... I’m not okay. I... I don’t know… I don’t know what’s happening, I... everything’s spinning.” The words tangled in your mouth, and you barely recognized your own voice.

“Where are you?” Dean demanded, his tone growing frantic. “What do you mean you’re not okay? Are you hurt? What happened?”

“I’m... in the bar,” you stuttered, gasping for breath between every word. “I don’t... I don’t know what’s going on, I feel... I feel dizzy, Dean, I feel so weird. I’m... I’m so scared...”

Dean’s voice faltered for a second, then snapped back, tighter, sharper. “Sweetheart, what do you mean? Where are you in the bar? Who are you with? Did someone...”

Your heart lurched, the word hanging in the air like a physical weight, but you couldn’t process it fully. "I... I don’t know... I don’t know who I was with..." You gasped, fighting against the overwhelming fog. “I feel like... everything is moving too fast… like... like I’m not here… I don’t know… I don’t know, Dean... I don’t know what’s happening...”

“Did someone drug you?” Dean’s voice was suddenly sharp, his words clipped, the panic now hitting his voice with force. “(Y/N), did someone drug you??”

His words made your chest tighten, but something inside of you clicked, like a terrible realization. You weren’t just confused. You weren’t just dizzy. Something wasn’t right. You weren’t in control of your own body, your mind was slipping away from you, and the terror of that realization set your heart racing.

“Wh-what?" Your head felt like it was swimming in an endless fog, and you couldn’t make sense of the words he was saying. “No... No, I’ve never done drugs... What... what do you mean?” You stammered disoriented.

“Goddammit,” Dean cursed, his voice breaking as he pieced together the worst possible scenario. “Someone drugged you, slipped you something in your drink. I’m coming, I’m coming to get you, kid. Stay with me.” Dean’s heart broke as he heard the confusion in your voice. He knew, though. He knew exactly what was happening to you. Someone had slipped something into your drink, and you were paying the price for it now. It made his blood boil, but right now, all that mattered was getting to you, making sure you were safe.

“But… but I’ve never done drugs before.” You blinked at the confusion clouding your vision, trying to make sense of what was happening to you.

"I know you’ve never done drugs before, I know sweetheart, I know. Someone did this to you. Someone put something in your drink, okay? You’re gonna be alright though, I’m coming. Stay with me.” He said gently, trying to explain what was happening to you, though the pain in his voice was evident.

“I... no... I don’t... I don’t understand…Why...” You were gasping for breath, your words slurring more and more, the confusion twisting in your mind. “I don’t understand, Dean... I don’t know... What... what’s happening to me?”

Dean clenched the steering wheel in his car, his knuckles white as his heart pounded painfully in his chest. “Listen to me, sweetheart. You’re gonna be okay. I’m on my way. I need you to just stay calm for me, alright? We’re gonna get you out of there. Just stay with me.”

Tears welled in your eyes as the panic started to swell inside of you. You were slipping. You were fading. You could feel it, a terrible, unrelenting fog in your mind, and the thought of losing control—of passing out—sent a new wave of fear crashing into you.

“I... I don’t want to… I don’t want to pass out, Dean! Is… is someone going to hurt me.” You gasped, the words tumbling out in a frantic, terrified rush. Dean clenched his jaw knowing exactly why someone roofied you, but he couldn’t instill that fear in you. “Hey! No…No! No one’s going to hurt you. I’m coming to get you, I’m coming.” But your mind already connected the dots which spiraled you into a deeper panic. “What if... what if I can’t... what if someone comes in... I can’t... I can’t stop them… I can’t fight them, I... I’m not strong enough! What if—what if something happens to me?”

Dean’s heart cracked at the sound of your voice, so broken and terrified. He was practically yelling into the phone now, his voice rising with frustration, desperation, and worry. “(Y/N), listen to me. You’re locked in the bathroom, alright? No one can get to you. No one can hurt you. You just stay away from the door. You’re gonna be fine. I swear to God you’re gonna be okay.”

“I’m scared, Dean,” you whispered, so softly now that it barely made it through the receiver.

"I know, sweetheart," Dean’s voice cracked, like it was breaking apart at the seams. "I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Just stay with me. We’re almost there. Just hold on."

Your body was shutting down, your mind was swimming, and you couldn’t fight it anymore. You didn’t know if you could hold on, didn’t know if you could stay awake.

Everything was starting to fade.

You gasped again, your breath hitching. "I can't...

“I-I'm gonna-pass out, Dean."

“Stay awake, (Y/N). Don’t you dare let it pull you under,” Dean’s voice cracked as he gripped the steering wheel harder, driving faster, his own panic starting to bleed through.

Suddenly, you heard muffled sound in the background, a voice from the phone, sharper and more insistent. "Dean, give me the phone," Sam barked. "Give me the damn phone."

Dean grunted, clearly panicked, but he handed it over. Sam's voice cracked through the phone almost immediately, low and commanding, but so full of fear that you could hear it even through your confusion…

Sam immediately spoke into the phone, his voice soft and gentle, trying to ground you. “(Y/N), hey, it’s Sam. I’m here. Just... just breathe for me, okay?”

“Sam?” Your voice was thin, confused. “What’s happening? Why am I... What’s wrong with me?”

Sam’s heart sank hearing the confusion and panic in your voice. “You’re going to be okay. We’re coming to get you, okay? You’re gonna be alright. Just stay calm. I’m right here.”

You whimpered, your head spinning uncontrollably. “I’m so scared, Sammy... What if someone gets in? What if they hurt me? I don’t know what they want...” Your voice trailed off into another sob, and the fear that clenched your heart was almost suffocating.

Sam's voice softened, trying to soothe you as much as possible. “You’re safe, (Y/N), you’re locked in the bathroom. No one’s getting in. Okay? You just stay away from the door, alright? Don’t open it. Don’t even get near it. We’re almost there. Just stay with me. You’re safe.”

You could barely understand his words, the fog thickening, but you clung to them, trying to focus on the sound of his voice. The air was too thick, the silence too loud, and the weight in your chest was unbearable.

The sound of the door rattling suddenly shattered your fragile grasp on reality. The harsh knocking echoed through the room, sending your heart into overdrive.

“Sammy?” you whispered, barely able to speak. “Is that you? Is that you at the door?”

Sam’s stomach dropped at the sound. He could hear the panic in your voice, and he knew the door was no longer just a symbol of safety—it was a threat now.

“No, don’t open the door, (Y/N),” Sam yelled into the phone, his voice filled with panic. “Stay away from the door, alright? Don’t let anyone in!”

You could barely process his words, the terror drowning you. “It’s... it’s not you, Sammy... It’s not you... Someone’s trying to get in...”

The door rattled again, and this time, it sounded even more forceful. The fear was rising, thick and suffocating, like a cold hand closing around your throat. “No, no, no... I can’t... I can’t stop them...”

Sam shouted, his voice almost breaking, “we’re almost there, (Y/N), we’re coming!”

Another loud bang came at the door, the sound sharp and menacing, and your blood ran cold. Your eyes darted to the door, fear overtaking every inch of you.

“Stay on the phone!” Sam was shouting now, but the fear in your voice drowned out everything. “We’re coming, we’re almost there!”

Your body trembled violently, your knees buckling, and you fell against the wall as your thoughts scattered. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop the terror from overtaking you. You wanted to be brave, you wanted to fight, but you couldn’t.

“I can’t... I can’t...” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“I’m with you, (Y/N),” Sam’s voice came through, shaky but full of determination. “We’re almost there. Just stay with me, alright? Just stay awake, stay alert.”

Your eyes were starting to close, the weight of exhaustion pressing on your eyelids. But you couldn't let it happen. You couldn’t.

The banging continued, louder now, but through it, you clung to Sam’s voice, the only thing grounding you. You were barely hanging on and as you whispered one last plea for them to hurry, the door rattled again, louder now, the metal handle shaking as whoever was on the other side tried again. It sounded like they were getting closer, breaking through the frame with each hit. They were coming in.

“NO!” You screamed, struggling to pull yourself up from the cold floor, your hands shaking as you tried to steady yourself. The room spun even harder, your body swaying, vision blurring.

Then, with a final crash, the door gave way. The lock snapped, and the door swung open with a jarring screech, revealing the silhouette of a man standing in the doorway. A stranger, tall and looming, his face partially obscured by shadows. His footsteps echoed loudly in the small, tiled room as he took a step forward, eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger. The fear in your chest exploded into pure, raw terror.

“No, no, no!” you whimpered, backing up against the wall as he stepped closer, your breath coming in shallow, frantic gasps. “Please... please... don’t! Please...”

Your words slurred, each one harder to get out, as the drug in your system weighed you down. You could feel the darkness pressing in on the edges of your vision, your mind trying to shut off, but the terror was still there, an open wound in your chest. You tried to scream, tried to get up, but you were too weak.

“Shhh... It’s okay,” the man cooed, his voice a low, mocking whisper as he took another step forward, his eyes gleaming with a sick amusement. “You don’t need to be scared...“

The words hit you like a slap to the face. Your brain barely registered the cruelty of it as he approached, his shadow casting over you like a weight you couldn’t escape.

“No... No... please...” You begged, your voice barely above a whisper, your body trembling uncontrollably. Your hand flailed around the bathroom floor, searching for something, anything to defend yourself with, but your fingers couldn’t grip anything. Every time you tried to move, you felt weaker, your body refusing to obey your commands.

The man grinned, a cruel smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “No one’s going to save you, sweetheart. You’re mine now. Just let go, it’ll be over soon.”

You couldn’t breathe, your chest tight as the fear suffocated you. You could feel the blackness creeping in again, and you knew—if you let go, if you passed out... he would have you. You wouldn’t be able to defend yourself, to scream, to fight. Your limbs were too heavy, and all you could do was whimper.

“No! No, please!” You choked out, unable to move. The door had fallen open behind him, the sound of your brothers’ desperate voices rang through the air and with everything you had left, you screamed, as if your voice could somehow reach your brothers, stop him from getting any closer. But it was a weak cry, shaky and broken, too afraid to even believe it would be enough.

“Get the fuck off of her!”

Dean’s voice, filled with fury and rage, cut through the room like a sword.

In an instant, Dean was on him, shoving the man away from you with a brutal force that sent him stumbling backward. Your body, still weak and trembling from the drugs, barely reacted, but Dean's presence was enough to anchor you to the reality of the situation.

"I’ll fucking kill you!" Dean growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He charged, fists flying as the man tried to regain his balance. The sound of bones hitting flesh was unmistakable—loud, sickening, and filled with the fury that only Dean Winchester could channel when someone dared threaten his family.

Suddenly, Sam’s familiar face came into view, his expression tight with worry. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said, his voice gentle but urgent, like he was trying to anchor you to the here and now. His hands, warm and steady, cradled your face, lifting it slightly so he could meet your gaze, his thumb lightly brushing over your skin as if to remind you he was there. His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of the haze that the drugs might’ve left behind, any sign that your focus was slipping away from him. "You're okay. You're safe, I promise. I’m right here with you, okay? We’ve got you. We won’t let anything happen to you."

His words were steady and warm, like a lifeline, but your body was betraying you. The drug had sunk deep into your system, and it was wreaking havoc in every muscle, every nerve, sending waves of strange sensations through you. Your chest tightened, and it felt like there was a weight pressing down on your lungs. You couldn’t breathe deep enough, and each shallow gasp only made it worse. Every breath you tried to take felt like it was being stolen from you. Your hands—your fingers—felt stiff and unresponsive, curling on their own, twitching with spasms.

“Sam...” you barely whispered, but your voice was weak, trembling, like it wasn’t your own. “I feel so weird…”

“I know, (Y/N), I know.” Sam said, his voice thick with emotion but full of that calm authority that only made you trust him more. His large hands were on your arms, trying to hold you steady, to remind you that you were here, you were real, you were safe. But your body wouldn’t stop jerking, twitching violently, like the drug was seizing control of your muscles. Your back arched involuntarily, and a choked sob bubbled in your throat.

The panic set in deeper. Your arms and legs felt like they belonged to someone else—heavy, uncooperative. You tried to move, but your body refused. The dizziness spun in your head, and the world around you was a blur. You felt like you were drowning in it. “Sam... Sam, I can’t...”

His grip tightened on you, anchoring you to him, and you could feel his breath close to your ear, his voice softer now but no less urgent. “Listen to me, (Y/N). I’m right here. I need you to stay with me. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. The drug... it’s coursing through you right now, your body’s trying to fight it, alright? Stay with me. Stay awake.”

His voice cracked with raw emotion, but it didn’t waver. He was so present, so solid in this moment, even as your body continued to react violently. You jerked again, the spasms making you gasp for air as you felt like your muscles were locking into place. You didn’t have control over your own body. The feeling of being completely out of control overwhelmed you. You could feel your head spinning, your vision blurring more with each second, and that constant pressure on your chest that made it harder and harder to stay conscious.

“Just breathe with me, (Y/N),” Sam said, his voice steady, but his hands shook slightly as they gripped you. His hand moved to your back, rubbing it slowly, trying to comfort you through the chaos, but your body was betraying you in every way imaginable. The drug was taking hold, seizing control of your senses, your thoughts—your every nerve. You could feel it as your heart raced, pounding violently in your chest, like it was trying to break free from your ribcage. Sweat was pouring down your face, your skin slick and clammy, and your limbs felt like they were no longer your own—jerking and twitching uncontrollably.

You wanted to scream, wanted to beg Sam to make it stop, but your mouth wouldn’t work. It wouldn’t obey, wouldn’t form the words. Your chest heaved with each shallow breath, but it wasn’t enough, wasn’t enough to pull you from the panic. Every time you tried to breathe, the air felt too thick, too far away. Your vision blurred, and the edges of the room warped and wavered.

And Sam… Sam could see it all in your eyes. The terror. He saw you struggling, saw the panic flashing in your gaze, and it crushed him. You could hear the sound of Sam’s voice rising, frustration and fear mixing in with his calm words. “What the hell did you give her?!” He suddenly screamed, his voice cutting through the room, filled with a ferocity that made you feel like it was cutting through the air itself.

He wasn’t just speaking to you anymore. The sound of his fury—his absolute protective rage—was directed at the man who had done this to you. You could feel it in the tension in his grip, in the way his hands clenched around you, holding you like you were the most important thing in the world.

But despite Sam’s rage, he never broke his focus on you. He didn’t leave you, not for a second. “Okay,” Sam said, taking a breath as if to calm himself. “Okay. I know you’re scared, I know. I need you to focus on me, alright?” Sam continued, his voice now a little softer again as his thumb stroked across your cheek, trying to soothe you through the convulsions rattling your body. “Your heart’s racing, I know. That’s the drug. That tightness in your chest? It’s normal right now. Your body’s in shock. It’s trying to fight the drug’s effects, but you’re going to be okay, trust me.”

The sensation of weightlessness was threatening to pull you under, and your body jerked again, making you gasp for air. But Sam was right there. His hands moved to your face, cupping your cheeks gently but with purpose, forcing you to look at him, to focus on him, despite how blurry everything seemed.

"Don’t you dare close your eyes, okay?"

Your chest felt like it was about to explode, the spasms were making you writhe in his arms, but Sam stayed with you—his voice still a tether in the madness, guiding you through each second. Even through his own anger, his pain, his desperation—he was there for you, unwavering.

The sound of Dean’s voice in the background seemed muffled now, lost in the whirlwind of sensations, but Sam’s presence was constant.

He didn’t wait for you to reply—didn’t need to. He could see the way you were struggling just to breathe, could see the fear and confusion in your eyes. You were scared, but you didn’t need words to tell him that. His voice didn’t falter once as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and helped you stand. Your legs were unsteady, like they weren’t yours anymore, but he held you up—held you close as he guided you toward the door.

“Come on, I’ve got you,” Sam murmured, his arm supporting you as you stumbled forward. The world outside was a blur, the lights of the bar flashing in your peripheral vision. Your body was shaking with each step, still fighting against the drug, but Sam was there. Always there.

As soon as the cold night air hit your skin, the nausea hit you like a freight train. Your stomach twisted violently, and before you could do anything, the pressure built up—too fast, too strong—and you dropped to your knees, your body convulsing with a wave of sickness.

“Let it out,” Sam said immediately, his voice firm but full of empathy, the knowledge of what was happening to you clear in every word. “It’s okay, just let it out, (Y/N). You’re okay. Your body’s fighting the drug. You’re fighting it, alright? Just breathe. Let it out. You’re gonna feel better. I promise.”

Your body lurched forward as you threw up, everything inside you coming up in violent waves. You felt weak—so weak—your hands barely able to hold yourself up as your body continued to heave. The dizziness was making everything spin, but Sam was right there, his hand on your back, steadying you. His voice was a constant hum in the background, soothing, telling you that it was okay, that you were okay.

“That’s it, just let it out,” Sam said again, his hand still pressing gently on your back, keeping you grounded, keeping you steady as you threw up, as your body trembled violently. He was talking to you like he knew exactly what you needed, guiding you through the worst of it. “You’re okay, you’re okay, just keep breathing. Your body’s doing what it needs to. You’re okay.”

You didn’t know how long it lasted, but your strength was drained, your energy zapped, and your body finally stopped heaving, leaving you weak and trembling on the cold pavement. You were on your hands and knees, and the nausea still clung to you, but Sam didn’t let go—not even for a second.

And just as you started to collapse, your body exhausted from everything, Sam’s hands were there. He caught you effortlessly, pulling you into his chest as you slumped, your head falling against his shoulder.

“I got you,” Sam whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re alright. You’re alright, (Y/N). I’ve got you.”

His arms wrapped around you, holding you up, keeping you from crumpling to the ground. You could feel his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, and even though you still felt weak, you weren’t alone.

“Breathe, just breathe,” he murmured, his voice soft now, a gentle comfort that you clung to. “You’re gonna make it through this. I’m right here. We’re gonna get you through it.” He kept you safe, kept you calm, as Dean took care of the man that attempted to do the worse to you.

His punches were swift and relentless, each one more vicious than the last. The man staggered back, but Dean wasn’t about to give him a chance to recover. With a final, savage swing, he sent the man crashing into the bathroom sink, the impact rattling the entire room.

Dean’s voice, sharp and full of anger as he finished dealing with the man who had dared to hurt you. “You don't even know how lucky you are that I don't have more time," he growled. "Stay down, or you won’t get up again." The stranger groaned, blood dripping from his busted lip, but he wasn’t getting back up—not for a while.

Dean didn’t even look at the man as he stepped over him, walking out of the bathroom and out of the bar. His face softened just a fraction as he saw you trembling in Sam’s arms, his voice turning gentle despite the fire still burning in his eyes. “(Y/N), hey... It’s Dean. We’re getting you out of here. Just hold on for me, alright?”

You could barely breathe, your body still too weak to function properly, but just hearing him calmed the chaos in your mind.

“Stay with us, okay? Stay with us, don’t fall asleep. We’re here. We won’t let anything happen to you.” He said as he rushed to open the car door while Sam held you up, but you could feel yourself slipping.

“No,” you whispered weakly, your hand gripping Sam’s jacket as you struggled to stay awake. “Don’t leave me alone.”

“We’re not leaving you,” Sam said, his voice steady and warm. “I’m right here, and so is Dean. We’re getting you to the car. Just breathe. You’re safe.”

The door slammed shut behind you as Sam climbed into the car, cradling your trembling form in his lap. Dean slid into the front seat, his knuckles white on the steering wheel as he started the engine.

“You’re safe, (Y/N),” Sam murmured, wiping away the tears that stained your cheeks. “We’ve got you. We’re not letting go. Not ever.”

You were fading, the world slipping away as the last of your strength drained from you. But Sam was right there, holding you, comforting you.

“We’ve got you,” Dean added, his voice thick with emotion as he drove. “We’re not going anywhere.”

And even though you could barely hold on to consciousness, those words were enough. You weren't alone anymore. You had your brothers. And you would be safe.

[theartofcollapse]

Would you write something about f reader x casey in which somehow casey ends up finding reader’s underwear drawer and she’s impressed by the amount of matching, skimpy lingerie sets reader owns and she feels some type of way about some of the sets

a/n: thank you for requesting this! summary: read it above pairing: Casey Novak x female reader warnings: heavy flirting word count: 590

masterlist

Laced Intentions - Casey Novak

Casey Novak had been in your apartment many times before, usually with takeout and case files, her heels clicking against the hardwood as she vented about her day. Tonight, though, she had ventured into unfamiliar territory.

You were in the shower, water running faintly in the background, when Casey decided to be helpful and fold your laundry. It started innocently enough: sweaters, jeans, the usual. But when she grabbed the lacy crimson bra that had fallen out of the laundry basket, she froze.

"Wow," she murmured, running her fingers over the delicate lace. She turned toward your dresser, eyes darting to the half-open drawer beneath it. Curiosity - and maybe something else - got the better of her.

Sliding it open, she was greeted by a treasure trove of matching lingerie sets, each more delicate and daring than the last. She hesitated, then picked up a soft lilac set with sheer details.

"Jesus, Y/N," she muttered under her breath, cheeks burning. "What are you planning to do in these?"

Casey wasn't one to blush easily, but there was something about seeing this private side of you - organized rows of sultry lace, silk, and satin - that left her flushed and maybe even turned on.

She didn't hear the shower stop or the soft padding of your feet until your voice broke through her trance. "Casey? What are you doing?"

Her head whipped around, guilt flashing across her face before she forced a sly smile. "I was just…uh…folding laundry. But, well..." She gestured to the drawer, still holding the lilac set. "...this explains why you always seem so confident."

Your eyebrows shot up, a smirk tugging at your lips. "I see you found my little secret."

Casey held the lingerie up by its delicate straps, her gaze sweeping over it appreciatively. "Little? This is strategic warfare, Y/N. You're telling me you've got all these," she gestured to the drawer, her voice lowering, "and no one to model them for?"

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Not yet. Any volunteers?"

Casey's eyes darkened, her usual professional demeanor slipping. She stepped closer, the lilac set still dangling from her fingers. "Depends. Are you taking applications?"

"Only if you meet the qualifications," you teased, heart pounding at her proximity.

She smirked, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Oh, I think I'm more than qualified. But if you need proof..." She trailed off, her gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips.

You stepped closer, closing the gap between you. "And what would that proof look like?"

Casey's free hand brushed against your hip, her touch featherlight. "Let's just say it involves me getting a much closer look."

You grinned, leaning in so your lips barely brushed her ear. "Be careful, Novak. You go digging through a woman's lingerie drawer, you might end up biting off more than you can chew."

Casey tilted her head, her lips hovering just above yours. "Good thing l've got a strong appetite."

Her words left a delicious tension hanging between you. You let the moment linger for a second before pulling back, swiping the lilac set from her fingers. "Patience, Counselor," you said with a wink, slipping it back into the drawer. "I'll let you know if I need help with... modeling."

Casey stood there, stunned but grinning as you walked away, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Well, I guess folding laundry isn't so bad after all," she muttered, already planning how to make sure this wouldn't be the last time she got a peek of those sets, especially that lilac one. 

[itsmemuffy]

I can make you feel better...

And you know you will (chapter 2)

Contents: Original Trilogy! Logan x fem reader, obsessive and touched starved Logan, major honeymoon phase, male masturbation, panty stealing, oral (m! receiving), breast worship, fingering, cum eating/swapping, angst, light blood + violence, mentions of Charles, Scott, Jean, Ororo and Peter (Collosus)

Chapter One Summary: You keep everything running as smooth as possible in the background while Professor Xavier keeps a very full plate of locating mutants, running the school, and leading the X-Men. A steady stream of mutants come and go through the mansion, but a certain one in particular makes it his mission to nestle his way into your life.

Chapter Two Summary: Logan navigates his needs as your relationship blossoms. He weighs his insecurities against his feelings for the woman he loves. Once everything is said and done, he finally gives in. Smut under last divider.

Author's note: Credit where credit is due, this post by @avocado-writing inspired the first part of this chapter. Thank you to all the wonderful writers in this fandom ;*

Logan played the memory of your lips against his over so many times in his head as he was falling asleep that by the time he woke up, he thought it must of been a dream. The morning sun that crept through the curtains of his room assisted him in coming to his senses. He squinted as he finally opened his eyes, light beaming into his retinas. That wasn't a dream. It was all for real this time...

He stumbled down the dim hallway in his usual morning stupor. Routine the same as always, except for one factor. You were gone. Your scent lingered faintly in the hall from when you left to catch your flight before the sun even had a chance to rise above the landscape.

Logan's brain didn't have time to catch up with his body before his feet stopped himself in his own tracks in front of your bedroom door. Snapshots of you standing before him, wrapping yourself around his body flooded his memory. The way you held onto him in that moment was as sweet as candy, but your touch heated him like pure capsaicin.

As the scene replayed in his mind, that same throbbing heat overcame his body, starting at his groin until it reached the tip of his ears. Logan glanced to his left. And then his right. Good, he thought. No one was around to bear witness to what he was about to do. He tested his luck when he wrapped his hand around the doorknob. Holy shit, it's unlocked.

Your door was swiftly opened and then shut behind him with a quick squeak that sounded out into the hall. It was a noise no one would bat an eye at upon hearing, but Logan was treating this as serious as a diamond heist. Sometimes he forgets that not every mutant's senses are as sharp as his.

He decided against turning the light on as not to raise suspicion. Instead, he let the dull lines of blue light from the closed window shades guide his endeavor. The space was tidy and organized, just as Logan expected.

He had only been in your room once before now. You had left notes on your bedroom desk on students whose mutations required them specific nutritional needs. Charles had requested them in a meeting that Logan also attended. Of course, he was the first to volunteer to grab them for you.

He had ample opportunity then to do what he was doing in the current moment- hunting for pieces of you in your own private space. As much as he was tempted to do so, he couldn't bring himself to keep his sweet girl waiting. He melted at your praise when he promptly delivered your papers.

He glanced around your room. Logan didn't know exactly what he was looking for. Something- anything that could give him his fix. It was your own fault, after all. You just had to spur him on last night.

First and foremost, he was an animal that never gave much practice to supressing his more perverse compulsions. To Logan, it was just simple biology. That was the excuse he gave himself when he made a beeline straight to your dresser. He knew what he was looking for now.

He quietly opened each and every drawer, carefully sifting through your clothes making sure they were put back exactly where he found them. Some articles evoked pleasant memories of the times you have worn them- others he had yet to see on you. Logan dreamed of the day you would get all dressed up just for him, wearing things no other man has ever seen you in.

When he got to the second to last drawer, Logan hit the jackpot. Inside, your bras and panties were lined up in tidy little rows. He held up multiple pairs, envisioning the way the fabric would wrap snugly around your curves. A pink, silky thong adorned with little ribbons is what he settled on as his favorite. He put them all back except for that specific pair.

A stack of polaroid photos that lay on your dresser piqued Logan's interest next. He snatched them up and made himself comfortable on the divit on the far side of your bed. It wasn't lost on him how you appeared to sleep on a singular side in favor of the middle of the mattress. Maybe you were saving room for someone to lay down beside you at night. Maybe you needed him as much as he needed you.

He shamelessly took a moment to rub his face into the pillow. The scent of you mimicking the sensation he felt when he nuzzled himself into your hair the night previous. Your shampoo, your lotion, your perfume, your sweat. It all came together to create a sensation he could never get from anyone else.

It was maddening- all too much and never enough at the same time. His cup could never be full of you, yet it overflowed in crashing waves. God forbid you found out about his little expedition into your bedroom, but he was a desperate man. Logan lay on his back and focused his attention to the pictures he held.

The photo on top of the stack captured the common area of the mansion, adorned in white and gold with "New Year's Eve" hanging from the ceiling in glittering letters that reflected the flash of the camera. It was from the year before he had arrived at the mansion. He shuffled that one to the back of the pile.

The second one was of you, Jean, and Ororo posing with champagne glasses in hand. All of you were in your best holiday dresses. Logan's eyes immediately caught on your exposed thighs, semi-transparent tights spread taught over the ample flesh. Now we're getting somewhere...

He flipped through a few more; photos of the catering, Jean and Scott dancing, and the clock striking midnight. None of them interested Logan.

The next photo in the stack displayed a shining bald head taken from above. It was Charles with a bright lipstick print on top his scalp. Logan immediately recognized your signature shade. This one was labeled underneath as "New Year's Kiss."

He couldn't supress the laughter coming up from deep within his chest as he pictured you tipsy off the champagne, planting a big 'ol smooch onto the unsuspecting professor. Logan had half a mind to be jealous, but he was convinced he'd be the one you would welcome into the next year- this time on the lips.

Logan's breath caught in his throat when he saw what the next picture was of. You were standing in front of your bathroom mirror, leaning forward slightly over the sink with your chest pushed out. The straps of your dress had slipped down your shoulders, exposing your breasts.

Immediately, he felt his pants tighten. Logan already craved your body like a starved beast and seeing your perfect tits left him in awe. They were better than he could of ever imagined, and he imagined them a lot. The days you chose to wear your tight little sweaters were like fucking Chistmas to him.

As he notices your face was flush from the alcohol, he fantasizes about how that night must of went. His sweet, responible girl maybe had one too many to drink. You probably saw yourself all dolled up in the mirror when you stumbled into the bathroom, wishing you had someone like Logan there to worship your pretty tits. What else were you to do but reach for your camera, not to waste this precious moment?

His cock was expanding at such a rate he was all but bursting out of the denim. It was too late to turn back now. Logan hurriedly unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans to shimmy them down to his knees. He took a second to palm his hard buldge through his boxers. All of the time he spent memorizing your tender touch once again came to good use.

Enough playing around, he thought to himself, time to get to business.

Logan fished his fully erect cock out of his boxers in one swift motion. It was already throbbing. He took a single finger to spread clear beads of precum around the head until the swollen, sensitive flesh was sticky and shining in his own arousal. In his mind's eye, Logan was imagining you lapping at the tip of his dick like the needy little thing he knew he would be able to turn you into.

He placed the stack of photos down next to him, keeping his favorite on top, and grabbed your panties. With one hand steadily stroking up and down his entire length, the other held up the silky pair to his face. Logan would of preferred them worn and marked with your scent- but a man in his position has to take what he can get.

His tongue ran stripes up and down the crotch of your panties, now envisioning you sitting on his face with your juices soaking through the material. In reality, they were just coated in his saliva. He wanted to hold you tight and make you squeeze his head between your thighs like a vice. If he could just taste you, Logan may finally be able to die and reach heaven. He chokes out a desperate groan into the fabric, breathing heavy and shallow.

Logan was getting close, rhythmic schlick-ing noises echoing off the four walls. There was no way his fist would be able to squeeze around him like you would, but he still tried anyway. He wrapped your thong around the base of his cock, the delicate fabric brushing against his full balls with every stroke.

The final scene he conjured up that drove him over the edge was you bouncing on top of him. Logan pictured you all sweaty and panting as you chase your high. Your legs would shake against him with exhaustion. The way his cock would be nudged so far deep inside would be too intense for you to hold any of your pathetic little noises back. He'd leave bruises in the shape of his palm on your ass as you rode him. Just to make sure you were unmistakably his. Nobody else's.

He bit his knuckle to stifle the guttural sounds of him reaching his peak. All of Logan's red hot blood had rushed to his cock, length pulsating in syncopation with his heartbeat. His breathing stopped completely as he spurted thick, white ropes into his own hand. What a waste he wasn't dispositing his cum into your warm mouth. He knows his good girl wouldn't waste a drop.

Logan has touched himself to the thought of you before. Many times, in fact. But this time, deep in your very own bed, he reached heights he hasn't felt in god knows how long. His chest and thighs were slicked with sweat and his breathing remained heavy long after his initial release. When he finally gets to make you his, he questions if he'd be able to stop himself from completely ravaging your body. Would his sweet girl be able to handle all that he's ready to give you?

He cleaned up himself with your goddamn adorable little thong, fabric barely able to hold all of his spend. After his slow return back to reality, Logan realizes his teammates might start wondering where he is. Not that it's any of their damn business. I go where I please.

It could be bad news if they start searching for him, however. Him and Scott were due to depart on some sort of mission. The briefing that had been schedueled beforehand was coming up in less than twenty minutes. Alright, alright. Time to get a move on.

Logan wrapped your panties in a tissue from your nightstand and tucked them away in his pocket- making a mental note to hide them somewhere safe in his own room before he departed. He considered taking that photo with him, too. Ultimately, he ruled it too risky. But not before taking one last look, committing every detail to memory.

Charles has suspected there to be a shadow organization tasked with framing mutants for crimes they didn't commit to accelerate anti-mutant sentiment. He had split up the X-Men to visit scenes of the alleged crimes to hopefully figure out who could be behind this. Every team came back empty handed.

Time was moving painfully slow for Logan while you were away. The mission he had gone on with Scott ended up being a total waste of time. He had to endure an entire day working alongside his favorite teammate, with no one to mitigate between them, and it was all for nothing.

To top everything off, one of the students started a fire trying to toast a pop-tart in their room. Unable to control his ability, he instead let out a huge explosion that incinerated a good portion of the east wing. Charles almost had an aneurysm when he got an estimate on the renovation costs.

It took hours to clean out the debris, painstaking and tedious work for even the mighty Wolverine. Him, Scott and Peter were working at it even as the biting cold came with the nightfall. Needless to say, Logan was having a miserable weekend.

He needed a victory- some worthless piece of shit to sink his claws into. Logan was growing extremely restless. Good thing the danger room remained untouched in the accident. Might was well blow off some steam...

Logan trained well into the night, the morning you would arrive back fast approaching with the coming dawn. He lost himself tearing through fabricated enemies. So high on his own adrenaline, all the pain he should of felt went ignored. His knuckles were tingling and numb by the time he collapsed to the ground, heaving.

When he finally caught his breath and every wound stitched itself back together, he ended the session. He actually did feel better now- emotionally, anyway.

Logan stomped through the halls, mind completely vacant. His entire body gleamed with sweat, except for dull patches of dried blood scattered across his torso. The underside of his eyes were heavy with bags. If someone were to ask him at what point in there he had lost his shirt, he wouldn't of been able tell them.

"Jesus Christ," a voice he had dearly been missing called out from behind him. "You went ahead and dragged yourself through hell again, didn't you?"

All he could do was grunt as he turned on his heels to see you, eagerly prancing toward him with suitcases in stride. He took a second to take you all in. You were dressed in your comfiest of clothes, hair and makeup slightly dishelveled from your plane ride. Logan thought you looked oh so warm and inviting. He wanted to scoop you up and carry you around like his own personal teddy bear.

As jarring as he appeared before you, it wasn't a sight you've never seen before. You had to learn early on to let him do what he needed to do- and there was no use in wasting your breath to scold him for pushing himself past limits. In this moment, you were just happy to see his face.

"C'mere, big guy," you stepped forward and enveloped him into your arms, not caring if Logan was getting your sweatshirt dirty.

As much as you had fun spending your days off with some of your old friends, you couldn't help from thinking about him the entire time. You weren't quite sure where the two of you stood now in terms of your relationship. All you knew is that you both benefited from having eachother close.

Logan's nose flared up at the scent of dozens of strangers on you. The unfamiliar sensation made his lips curl up in a snarl. He wrapped his arm around your waist tight, lifting you a foot off the ground.

"Missed ya, doll," he nuzzled his beard up and down your neck and chest, marking your body with a scent more suitable for you. You giggled uncontrollably as the hairs tickled your flesh. "Hope you had a better past few days than I just did."

"Yeah, I heard..." You held on to the back of Logan's head as he put you back down, fingernails gently grazing his sweaty scalp, "I'm gone for one weekend and this place falls apart, huh?"

"Damn right, it did," he chuckled darkly, breath hot against your earlobe.

"I'm just glad no one was hurt," you watched him as he broke the embrace to scoop up your luggage, "that's more than we can hope for some of these days."

The two of you made your way down to the rooms. At your doorway, you thanked Logan for carrying your bags with a kiss on the cheek. He adored how the feel of your lips was already becoming routine.

"So, do you want to uh..," Oh god, you had no idea how to do this. You were so comfortable with eachother as friends but now that he was looking at you like he wanted to devour you whole, it was like learning how to speak again. Logan would steal glances like this since the day he first laid eyes on you, but now he didn't have much of a reason to hide it anymore. It definetly did not help that the rise and fall of his bare chest with each breath was so fucking mesmerizing. "You want to maybe, um, see what I brought back from my trip?"

The way Logan towered over you, boxing you in against the doorframe and burning holes into your body with his gaze, was borderline criminal. "Let me go ahead and jump in the shower then you can show me, sweetheart. I want to hear all about your little vacation," his voiced remained low, bordering on a whisper. "I'll meet you back here when I'm done, okay?"

He gave you a quick peck on the lips before he split off into his own bedroom. Logan knew if he gave you anything more, he wouldn't be able to help from shoving his entire tongue in your mouth. All in good time, he reminded himself. There was no need to rush when things were going so well between you. You plopped down on your bed and tried not to think about the man soaping up his body just a few doors down.

Steaming hot blasts of water pounded away at Logan's aching muscles, reminding him how just exhausted he truly was. Despite the lethargy that was dragging him down, he was determined to push through it just to spend more time with you. It felt to him like he hadn't seen you in ages.

Logan patted himself dry as he stared into the mirror. Now that you were back he pondered all the ways this relationship could go. He ached to be close to you in every way possible. As much and he felt you belonged alongside him, there was still an apprehension nagging him in the back of his mind.

After all, you haven't even see the full aspects of his mutation. He's never protracted his claws around you- never had to, thankfully. And you've only witnessed him recover from very minor injuries. Would your soft, sweet self still feel the same way about him if you saw him bloody and gored, metal bones protruding?

You've never shown signs of being scared or wary of him besides basic shyness. Maybe you would of if you'd seen early on what he can really do. Logan wanted to squeeze you tight and never let go, but could he even trust himself to sleep through the night with you beside him? The rips and tears in his sheets told him, no, you can't.

He threw on a fresh pair of sweats and a t-shirt. With the flick of a lighter, he lit up a cigar to calm his nerves. After running his fingers through his hair to get it juuust right, he headed back to your room like he promised.

Your suitcases were open on the bed as you sat patiently at end with your hands in your lap. Was inviting him back into your bedroom a bad decision? Something in you yearned for Logan to take the lead and bring you to all those places that other men didn't even know existed within you. On the other hand, you weren't sure if you'd be ready to take him on in that way. At least not yet, anyway.

Your door opened and you immediately perked up. "You mind if I..." Logan waved the burning cigar in his hand before he entered the room. This may have been the first time in his life he had asked someone for permission to smoke. He cringed at himself for already being so whipped.

"As long as you don't ash anywhere but the tray." You had an old glass piece on your nightstand you repurposed into a dish for your jewelry. Rings rattled as you dumped them out and slid them out of the way. Logan turned his face to the side, hoping you wouldn't catch the small grin lifting his cheeks. It was the little actions that showed him how ready you were to make room for him in your life. Even as friends, you would always make the extra effort to go out of your way for him. God, what he wouldn't do for you in return.

He passed your dresser on his way to you and noticed the stack of photos as he felt a twinge in the pit of his stomach. Nestled there was something between guilt and the sick satisfaction that you were none the wiser about the parts of you he's now seen. The image of you topless in the bathroom mirror crept into his mind again and if Logan wasn't so damn exhausted, he would of gotten rock solid just thinking about it. Your panties were still hidden in the confines of his own room. He had already jerked off into the pair several times.

The bed dipped as his weight brought the mattress down, making your bags slide a bit towards him. He laid down on his side, propping himself up slightly on his elbow. "I'm all ears, baby. Tell me what my girl's been up to." Logan didn't miss how your posture shifted when he called you his.

He listened attentively to your soothing voice as you told him about the stores you visited and the all things you could only find in your hometown and he vented to you about his shitty weekend. You had a way of melting away the worries and the doubts from his mind without even trying.

Sleep crept it's way up his broad form until Logan fell unconscious. His cigar slowly billowed out in the tray. If it was a deliberate decision, he would of chosen to stay awake until he got back to his own room. You babbled on for a bit longer as you unpacked. After a minute or two without an affirmative yeah? or is that so? did you notice he was totally conked out.

You glanced over your shoulder to see him peacefully asleep, a low rumble sounding from his chest. He was obviously snoring, but the noise was more akin to that of a big purring kitten. It turned your heart to warm jelly seeing him this content.

You crawled on your hands and knees up the bed, careful not to wake him. At this point, you knew more than anyone else how falling and staying asleep was an active battle for Logan. You couldn't help from selfishly pressing a feathery-soft kiss to his forehead, even if there was a small chance the gesture would stir him to consciousness.

Your bodies faced eachother when you also succumbed to your own exhaustion- your travels hit your body harder than you had realized. Somewhere in your slumber, you had snaked your legs around his. Likewise, Logan instinctively reached out to hold your body against him with a heavy bicep.

A few hours later with noon fast approaching, a steady barrage of knocks at the door alerted Logan out his sleep. He glanced over to you, not able to recall when he had drifted off. Your limbs were still locked with eachother's as your slowed heartbeat and soft breath fanning against his arm almost lulled him back into his dream of you.

A voice from beyond the room shook him out of it. "Wakey wakey, I know you're in there." It was Scott. "I let you sleep in long enough. The professor needs you in his office asap."

Still in a daze, Logan completely forgot whose room he had just woken up in. He had not even considered that Scott could be talking to you. "Just fuck off and give me five more minutes, Summers," Logan grumbled.

Scott stood behind the door stunned, a scandalous smirk creeping up his face. Finally, some development between you and Logan- and was the visored mutant ever smug to be the one to make this discovery. He couldn't wait to tell everybody how he caught the big, bad Wolverine sneaking a nap in with the woman he has been pathetically crushing on for ages.

"Logan!?" Scott exclaimed incredulously, not even trying to supress the laughing fit he was breaking into. "Do me a favor, will you? Make sure the lady makes it to Charles in once piece. No time for funny business, you hear me?"

Logan would make him pay later on for mocking him, but to Scott it was sooo worth it. As he turned his attention back to you in bed, he noticed a dried streak of drool trailing from the corner of your mouth. You couldn't help it- his presence next to you made you feel safe and that lent itself to a very deep slumber. He wet his thumb between his lips before wiping it away from your face.

"Sweetheart, get up," Logan gently but firmly coaxed you out of your slumber with a hand tapping your shoulder.

"Mnnn... whaaat?" You mumbled as you swatted his hand away. "C'mon, let's go back to sleep..." You reached to pull him in, but he was all too sturdy in his stance. He was this close to saying fuck it and giving in to you. Hopefully you would forgive him for denying your whims this time.

"No, you come on. The big boss says he needs you in his office," his response illicited a long, disapproving groan from you. "Hey, hey, none of that," Logan tsked. "Not my fault my girl is so important."

My girl. Those words sure had a way of making you feel energized. You reluctantly sprung up from the bed and headed straight to the bathroom to clean yourself up a bit. He got up and followed close behind you, watching you wash your face and thinking about how that was the best sleep he had gotten in ages- even if it was only a short nap. Maybe sleeping next to you every night wasn't as crazy a dream as he thought.

You sat opposite of Professor Xavier at his desk, old leather of the seat sticking to your legs. The office was bright with natural light, fresh air circulating in through an open window. Charles was giving you a run down on everything he needed done this week. Letters to send out, field trips to scheduele, and an obscene amount of phone calls to make.

"We need to get those repairs done before the weather does irreperable damage to the insulation. Patching the roof is our top priority, call this number first." He handed you a slip full of contact information.

"Now that you're all caught up on current affairs, is there any matters you'd like to bring to my attention, my dear?" The professor looked you dead in the eyes in a way that you hated. You could never let your guard down around a telepath.

"You know me, Charles. Same old, same old. Never anything too exiting," a nervous exhale punctuated your words.

"What about Logan?"

Goddammit, Charles. You also couldn't stand how absolutely nosy the man could be sometimes. He was like a father awkwardly trying to gossip with his children, if only out of a desire to feel more included in their lives. It was irritating as it was endearing.

"What about Logan?" The way his name rolled off your tongue was enough to quicken your pulse. When did his name become the most beautiful sounding word? Everything was for Logan. Logan. Logan. Logan. "He's my best friend. We've just gotten close over the time he's been here, you know?"

"Fine. Whatever you say, my dear." With a dismissive wave of his hand, Charles gave up. You both had far too much to do for him to waste time wearing you down. He already saw everything he needed to see- sitting front row in the theater of your mind. The lecture he just gave to the students on ethics in telepathy be damned.

"Sorry, Charlie. You can't be the only man in my life forever."

"Yes, I know, I know." You could see the corner of his mouth curl upwards. It was nice to see a smile on the professor's face despite the stress he's been under recently.

He left you alone in his office to make your calls. The majority of the next few hours mostly consisted of hold music and the impatient tapping of your pen against the desk. You took on meaningless tasks like tidying up Charles' already spotless office as you silently prayed for a savior to your boredom.

Your prayers must of somehow been heard. As soon as your brain started to leak out of your ears from the sheer lack of stimulation, a larger than life presence made his way through the door.

"Thought you could get away with skipping breakfast, huh?" Logan sauntered his way into the open room, carrying something in his hand. "And skipping lunch, for that matter," he stated as he set down a plate full of food in front of you.

On the plate sat what was perhaps the saddest looking sandwich you had ever seen in your life- toppings slapped haphazardly between two slices of bread with condiments dripping down the sides. Still, it was cut vertically in half with chips filling the free space of the dish. You could tell he earnestly attempted to make it into something special.

"Tried to do it up as nice as you always make 'em for me..." Logan trailed off as he gazed down at the pathetic display. "Listen, at least it tastes good. I made sure a'that," he reached down to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Only now did you notice the bite taken out of the corner.

You brought your hand up to shyly cover the grin creeping up your face. "Looks delicious, Logan. Thank you," you giggled.

"What's baldy got you doing now? Playin' secretary?" Logan's focus turned to your legs that were swaying to the tempo of elevator jazz playing from the phone's fuzzy speaker. He watched intently as each subtle movement shifted the hem of your skirt.

"Basically. Not the most exiting but it needs to get done all the same." You took a mouthful of the sandwich and he was right- it was pretty damn good. If not a bit messy.

Small smudges of mustard collected at the corner of your lips, "No napkins?" Logan shook his head in response. You collected the condiment with your thumb, bringing it up to your mouth to clean off your finger. "Did I get it all?"

"Let me look at ya," he lifted your chin and turned your face, using this as an excuse to admire each side. From the slope of your nose to the angle of your eyes- every feature was a work of art to him. "Missed a spot." Logan's towering form bent down to be eye level with you sitting. Before you could realize what was happening, you felt his warm tongue lap at the smear on your cheek.

You didn't even know how to react. Logan was a roaring fire- in every aspect. Not only in terms of body temperature, but in his rage and how he burned hot for you. Crackling flames inside him drove his every decision. Your affection only provided more kindling. To put it simply, he was not a subtle lover.

He snuck in a few extra licks than were necessary and patted the excess drool away with his sleeve. "You're disgusting," you scolded him light-heartedly.

"Tell me you don't love it." Logan shifted to his knees to stay face to face with you. He captured your lips in a kiss, toying with locks of your hair while he put his devotion on display.

You could tell he was using every ounce of restraint he had. It was sickly sweet the way your mouths met again and again- each kiss never going beyond surface level. A fog was rolling in on the both of you. Dense in the air was the feeling of longing for more. These desires were as desperate as they were aimless. The two of you would never truly be able to get enough of eachother.

Your hands found themselves tenderly smoothing over the hair on his face. At this point, you knew him all too well. He was waiting for you to demonstrate to him how far you were willing to go. Logan felt the tip of your tongue swipe his bottom lip and the grunt this illicited from him sent a rush to your core.

He greeted your tongue with his and next thing you knew, your mouths were inseparable- locked together with no intentions of coming up for air anytime soon. Logan's movements still remained steady and deliberate. He was hedonistic in how he savored every sensation. His hands moved lower to knead at the dip in your hips to steady himself. Yours remained on his face to keep him locked in this embrace.

The two of you could of stayed like this forever, wetting eachother's appetite as you both held on for dear life. Forever came to an end when the hold music cut out abruptly- "Sorry for the wait, m'am. How may we help you?"

That night the students were still camped out in the common area whilst the repairs on their rooms were in progress. They made themselves comfortable on couches and in sleeping bags. It wasn't an ideal situation, but you tried to make it fun for them. You prepared popcorn and let them watch a few movies past their typical bedtime.

After the kids were all settled in for the evening, you joined everyone else in the kitchen. The soft buzzing of activity put you at ease. Within the room, Scott and Logan were complaining to one another- a cornerstone of their relationship.

"I don't understand why Charles couldn't just let us fix up the place ourselves like we aren't more than capable," Scott whined. He stood behind where Jean was sitting, leaning on the back of her chair.

"I reckon he doesn't think we're fit for the job," Logan left his position against the wall when he was greeted with your presence. Everyone's eyes were on him as he gravitated towards you.

"You know there are codes and regulations for stuff like that, right?"Jean remarked through a mouthful of pasta. "Stick to fixing sinks and patching up walls and leave the rest to the professionals."

He was standing right next to you now, hand at the small of your back while the conversation continued, "I'm telling ya, they didn't look very professional to me."

Logan took it upon himself to investigate the workers from the roofing company. They had arrived earlier to assess the damage. It didn't sit right with him how late they came and at such short notice. He took note of their attire- neat work pants and button ups that appeared to have never seen a day of hard labor in their life. The men were also absent of the distinct musk that handing tiles and other construction materials gave off. No traces of dust or dirt, the only thing Logan's nose detected was the unremarkable scent of a sterile office space.

"If they end up doing an inadequate job, you and Scott owe us a big, fat I told you so," Ororo chimed in from in front of the fridge. "Until then, the two of you can hush."

Logan's brows lifted and he rolled his eyes. It was hard to argue with a literal goddess. The hand at your back snaked its way to your hip, pulling you closer. He needed you close and he didn't care who knew. In fact, he preferred it that way. There would be no question of who he belonged to, because no one would dare mess with the woman who had his heart.

Knowing looks were cast in your direction from every corner of the kitchen. Everybody in the mansion has always regarded you with respect, even if you had a tendency to fade into the background. Frankly, you were not used to this kind of extra attention.

You pretended not to notice but Logan could tell it was bothering you. "Uh oh, I guess they know I'm sweet on ya, doll," he muttered to only you before planting a kiss to the top of your head, guiding your focus away from the prying eyes and back to him. "I'm going out for a smoke, c'mon."

Logan kept his arm around your waist as he escorted you through the mansion. You weren't sure where he was taking you, but you didn't care. As long as you were with him, all other details were not of concern.

The two of you turned a corner and he stalled, catching you from tripping over your interrupted step. An unfamiliar silhouette stood at the end of the hall, casting a long shadow against the dark wooden floor. Logan's body tensed up and all his senses were on alert. He recognized that sterile scent from earlier.

"Stay here," Logan commanded as he grabbed and secured you against a nook in the hallway. His touch was rougher than what was typical for when he handled you. You could feel the urgency in his grasp.

You froze in place and watched as he made his way towards the stranger. Logan took an intimidating stance, arms hunched out and prepared to make a move at a moment's notice. "Any reason you're still here? Why don't you head home, bub?"

The other man stayed silent in response. At this point, you and Logan both knew something was not right. He stood a few feet away from the stranger while waiting for provocation to retaliate.

The dim light caught between Logan's knuckles. Shining appendages gradually expanded from his fist with a sound unlike anything you have ever heard before- a combination of flesh tearing and a metallic shling that made you a bit queasy. He was preparing to strike.

You knew what they were. It was no secret to you what Logan was equipped with. His fellow X-Men would tell you wild stories about the vicious Wolverine that fought alongside them on missions, describing someone completely different from the man that you've come to know.

After what felt like an eternity but in actuality couldn't have been more than a few seconds, the man made his move. He grabbed something at his side. Everything was happening far too fast for you to catch what it was.

A large cracking noise reverberated off the walls as Logan was struck on the shoulder. You couldn't tell if the sound was the weapon breaking or him. He toppled over slightly, swinging his sharp claws at the stranger's legs with a roar. A twisted symphony of growls, grunts and shredding rung through your ears.

Before you knew it, the stranger slumped to the floor with a thud. The man wasn't dead, the exasperated breaths that he was squeezing out of his lungs made that much clear. Logan wasn't going to let him take another step towards everything that he cared for.

A group of speeding footsteps could be heard behind you as they made their way onto the scene. Jean, Scott, and Ororo must of heard the commotion. Still high off his own adrenaline, Logan turned to face you and his teammates. You could barely make out the dark fluid dripping from his claws and onto the floorboards. The air smelled like a roll of newly-minted pennies.

His eyes caught on your face. He had on an expression that you have never seen before. Wide-eyed and crazed, with a hint of something you couldn't quite put your finger on. Was it rage, remorse, or maybe even shame? Arms now limp at his side, Logan's slowly slid his claws back into himself.

You now understood the paralyzing fear his enemies must have felt when they faced him in combat. More importantly, you understood that he would preserve the safety of those around him without hesitation. All you could do was stand and stare, half expecting him to be pulled towards you like an opposite magnet similar to how he did earlier- but he didn't.

No one asked any questions. They all had a mutual understanding of what was to be done next and they made quick work of that. Jean took the man to the infirmary to treat his injuries and to be questioned later on. Ororo and Scott patrolled the mansion to see if the aggressor was alone, securing every enterence around perimeter. Now it was just you and Logan alone together again.

The gap was bridged between the two of you when you cautiously stepped towards him. The closer you got, the harder it was for him to maintain eye contact with you. Logan wanted to avoid this moment for as long as possible and he deluded himself into thinking he may of been able to forever.

You stood before him, granting him the space to recoup from what just happened. He was still stiff in posture.

"Well, we shouldn't just stand here," you were desperate to break up this painfully strained moment. "Those kids are probably scared, they don't know what's going on."

Logan followed close behind you, still on alert. To your surprise, the students were sound asleep in the common area. The movie still playing in the background must have drowned out the commotion down the hall. You sat on the last remaining couch that didn't have someone passed out on it and patting the space beside you. "Let's stay just here while we wait to hear back from everyone else."

Good idea, he thought. If anyone with nefarious intentions got to you or the children while he was absent, Logan would never forgive himself. Might as well make himself comfortable because he was not planning on getting a lick of sleep tonight. He sat down next to you, keeping a noticeable distance.

You thought of something you could do or say to put his mind at ease. Just when you thought you were starting to tear down his walls, he puts up another barrier. It was frustrating. All you wanted was to know what he was thinking.

"I don't really know what else to say but... thank you, Logan." You really meant it. No one was hurt because of him. The way he was quick to act with no regard for himself was unlike anything you had ever seen before.

"Don't mention it," he muttered shortly. Logan cut himself off before he could assure you with the usual affectionate pet name. You noticed this, and it made your heart sink to the pit of your stomach.

"Are you... hurt?" You knew he was okay, even if he felt the pain in the moment like anybody else would. "You took quite a blow back there."

"M'fine." He couldn't even look at you. You were getting nowhere.

"Whatever it is, just know that I love you, Lo." He was now viewing you from his peripheral, not even turning his head. You felt your voice start to waver, "All of you, every part. Don't worry about saying it back. I just need you to know that."

"Love ya, too. Not another word now, sweetheart, I mean it." Logan pulled you into him and you wrapped yourself around his side. You obeyed his request even if there was so much more you both could say.

You dozed off on his shoulder as he stayed awake through the night, ruminating on his conflicting feelings. It amazed him how even after you've seen the animal- no, the monster he saw himself as, you still felt secure in his presence.

Tonight he gave you a piece of himself he never intended to give, and you cradled that piece in your hands with a tenderness no one has ever granted him. His cheeks became damp with sparse tears as he kept his eyes darting between every point of entry. Under this roof, he was loved. He was needed. Anyone threatening his home better be ready to beg for mercy.

Charles assigned everyone busywork while he formulated his next move. He suspects that the X-Men were close to getting to the bottom of what was going on with the shadow organization, and perhaps that's why the mansion was targeted. Logan was more than happy to distract himself by putting his calloused hands to good use. In the end, him and Scott got what they wanted. They both worked from the inside while Ororo flew between sections of the busted roof.

You assisted them any way that you could, mostly by running supplies back and fourth. The mansion was filled with chatter about the night previous, but no one would have many answers until Jean finished questioning the intruder.

By nightfall, building materials had run out and there was nothing left to do until the stores opened the next day. A sizable portion had gotten done, but there was still plenty of work ahead.

After dusting himself off, Logan pulled you to the side. "Meet me in my room in a bit, yeah?" he rasped in a way that put you on edge. The two of you hadn't exchanged many words that day. The most you were able to get from him were single-word replies paired with a hungry look in his eyes.

"Are we going to talk, then?" You anxiously rubbed the tip of his elbow as you spoke.

"Talk?"

You bit your lip. Maybe now wasn't the best time to push him out of his comfort zone. "I care about you, Logan. I'd like to know what's on your mind sometimes."

"Hmm..." he leaned into you, close enough you could feel every exhale of each breath he took. "What if I showed ya instead of saying it with words? How's that, darlin'?"

A flutter was felt in the depths of your core as you realized what he might have in mind. "Yeah, I'd like that."

With a kiss that was much too quick, the two of you parted. You checked in with Charles like you always did before you retired for the night. After confirming he didn't need anything from you, it was time to make your way back towards Logan.

You approached his door and for a second, you hesistated. If Logan always made you feel safe when you were around him, why were you so damn nervous? There was so much pent up energy inside you that you were almost afraid to release. You felt for him far too much and you didn't want to mess this up.

The metal of the doorknob was cold in your hands as you turned it. Inside the room, Logan sat in a chair in the far corner in the low light of a desk lamp. He was leaning back with his legs spread apart.

"C'mere, baby," he set down his glass of whisky on the side table and gestured you towards him with his pointer finger. "Been hard at work all day. All I want is my sweet girl."

Logan never took his eyes off you as you made your way toward him. You felt his gaze shift up and down your body. When you stood before him, he looked up at your face again and patted his lap.

You sat down with your legs splayed across his own. He kept you in place on top of him with an arm around your waist while his fingers absent-mindedly stroked your upper thigh. All that was on his mind was how perfectly you fit against him. This is what he wanted- to clear his thoughts. You were the only person who had the power to do that for him.

"Wanna know what's really been on my mind, huh?" His words came out rough and strained. Before you had showed up, Logan was already getting himself worked up. He was savoring the sweet silence and the harsh bite of liquor all while visions of you danced around his head.

Logan ran the pad of his thumb back and fourth across your bottom lip, steady and focused. Blood rushed to your face and you couldn't help but purse your lips to gently kiss the tip of his calloused finger. This only encouraged him further.

You felt his digit dip past your lips and you obediently parted them. He started to rub small circles on the tip of your tongue, collecting saliva. Once he was pleased with how wet your mouth had gotten for him, Logan slid his thumb all the way in.

Gentle strokes to the back of your tongue was all the instruction you needed. You hollowed out your cheeks and began to suck as he pumped his finger in and out in a agonizingly slow motion. This action somehow both shut off your brain and fired all of it's synapses simultaneously.

"Now that's a good girl." His low, rough voice continued to fill the air with praises as you salivated around his digit. Logan was a man of few words, but he'd run his mouth nonstop about inane nonsense if it meant he could keep you here like this. He couldn't help but feel this way, you were being so good for him.

It was all so was maddening. Didn't he know how frustrating this was for you? Of course, the man knew. He could hear in your pulse, smell it in your perspiration. The sillage of the arousal between your legs was the most prominent as it wafted around him. Knowing that you are just as crazy about him as he is about you was the only way he could be satisfied. Logan figured now was the perfect time to take things a step further.

"Your mouth feels so good, sweetheart," he cooed through steady breaths. "Wanna taste the real thing?"

Your jaw dropped a little and your eyes widened. This was getting too real too fast. Fantasies were crossing over into reality and the excitement was almost too much. Your heart was now pounding against your ribcage.

Logan was gazing at you with soft eyes, pupils blown out to their fullest extent as he awaited your answer. You couldn't say no to him when he was looking like this. No longer were you going to let your nerves stop you from getting what you truly wanted. Especially when the thing you wanted was pressing into the underside of your thigh.

You nodded with his thumb still in your mouth. He drew it out with a string of spit gradually stretching until it broke apart. The same hand then held you by the jaw and pulled you into a kiss. Every muscle in your body seemed to give out. You had no choice but to lean into him, palms pressed into his solid chest.

The exchange was hungry, wet. Way sloppier than he has ever kissed you before and it caught you a bit off guard. He took turns between sucking at your top and bottom lip. You let him take what he needed while you savored the taste of him- faint flavors of cigars and whiskey. So decadent, so Logan.

"Tell me, baby," He used his grip on you to pull you back so he could admire your swollen lips, slicked from his own mouth. To him you were the most gorgeous like this, when you looked like something that was his. Logan's breath was hot againt your face. "Need to know how bad you want it."

"Please, I..." you trailed off trying to find the right words. You've never spoken your desires out loud for anybody to hear like this before. "I need it, Lo. Please let me taste you."

"Hmm..." Logan mockingly looked to the side as pretended to think about your request, like he somehow had pros and cons to weigh about having your lips wrapped around his cock. Then he clicked his tongue. "How can I say no to my girl when she asks so sweetly. Of course you can, baby."

He connected your lips to his again, tongue unabashedly exploring your mouth. So warm and velvety, Logan couldn't believe you were about to use it for his pleasure. You gathered your bearings and kissed him back, matching his fervor. It wouldn't be surprising if the nicotine and alcohol was getting into your bloodstream this way.

His hands found the dip in your hips as he lifted you up. You squealed as Logan placed you exactly where he wanted you- on the floor with your back pressed up to the foot of the bed.

You gazed upwards at the man before you. The buldge in his jeans was eye level with you in a way that was honestly a bit intimidating. Shaky hands reached for his belt. Your body was acting with very little input from your brain, so drunk off of him.

Logan's buckle was undone with a clink and you slid his belt out of the denim loops. The way he was watching you with big, dark eyes made you hot with embarrassment. That feeling mixed with the heat between your legs practically melting you into a puddle on his floor.

After popping the top button and unzipping his pants, the material fell to his ankles. His cock was straining against he cotton of his boxers. You notice a damp patch around where the head is. Without thinking, you leaned forward and closed your mouth around the clothed tip. Logan tasted better than you expected; rich and heady, sweet and salty. You were desperately sucking the precum out of the fabric, already addicted to the taste.

"Such a dirty little tease," Logan groaned, gaze never departing from the look of mindless bliss on your face. "Couldn't even wait to undress me to get a taste."

In an unexpected move, he pulled you back with a hand on your neck and yanked his boxers down with the other. His cock swung around from the momentum, casting a shadow over you.

Logan held himself by the base, rubbing the cockhead across your bottom and top lips. His arousal was speared all over your mouth "Don't you look so fucking pretty. Think we found you your new favorite lipstick, sweetheart?"

"Mmm hmm," you agreed, the sound vibrating though his length making him shudder.

"Now open up, baby," Logan was practically whining. He was just as deperate at this point. You obey and part your lips.

He slid his cock past your wet, swollen lips. Your tongue ran against the vein on the underside of his cock, the taste of him even stronger now. "That's it, just like that. Doin' so good for me."

The back of your head was cushioned by the edge of the mattress and he shallowly thrust into your mouth. Logan was testing how much of him you could take. The obscene symphony of you slurping and gagging around his dick was more than enough to make him lose his mind. He wiped a tear streaming down your cheek away with his thumb.

You push your head forward, bringing him into your throat. Logan would be happy with anything you were willing to give. Still, you felt the need to prove yourself to him, make him proud. You were demonstrating how you would chose his cock over air. With each loud, deep groan from the man above you, you took him in deeper.

"M'gonna... fuck," his hips quivered and his voice was faltering. You knew what that meant- soon you would get the reward for all your hard work.

"I'm almost there. Can I please cum in your mouth, sweetheart?" Logan reached down to push the hair out of your face. All you could do is look up at him through your watery vision- eye contact acting as a silent permission. While panting sequences of please, please, baby, please, he pushed himself to the back of your throat.

Rope after rope of his hot, thick spend filled your mouth. Some of it slid down your throat causing you to cough around his cock, making a mess of the both of you. Logan rode out his high with a few more additional thrusts before gently pulling out.

"On the bed, c'mon," he lifted you up and made you sit on the edge of the mattress. There, he stood between your legs and began lapping up all the excess cum on your face. Your mind was so clouded by arousal, all you could do was pathetically whine at the sensation.

"Shh, shh..." Logan reassured you between tender kisses, delighting in the taste of himself on you. "Don't worry, sweet thing. I'll make sure you are taken care of."

He starting to knead at your breasts through your shirt, feeling your heart beat fast in your chest. "You're gonna let me make you feel good, aren't ya?"

"Yes, Lo. Please," your words were barely audible through airy gasps.

He didn't waste another second removing your top. If Logan was able to rewind this moment and watch it over, he would be embarrassed by the groans slipping so easily from his lips. The anticipation of finally being able to feel you, to worship you- it was almost too much.

To take out his excess frustration, Logan started attacking you with his mouth. He licked, sucked, and bit from jugular to your sternum like he was trying to eat you alive. All while snaking his hands around your back to unclasp your bra. Marks were already blooming across your chest. No one could deny who you belonged to now.

Your nipples wound themselves into tight buds from the sudden exposure to air. Rough palms warmed them up again as he desperately groped at you. You let out a long moan when you felt him roll your nipples between his calloused fingertips.

"Sensitive, huh?" Logan exhaled into your neck, "just how I knew they'd be."

He trailed sloppy kisses down to your breasts, marking the mounds with the signature of his mouth. His warm tongue swirled around your hardened bud as the hand it replaced trailed lower.

Logan was completely gone at this point, suckling at your tits like it was the only thing he wanted to do for the rest of his long life. You felt his teeth graze the sensitive area and you threw your head back in response. Every whimper and mewl was music to his ears.

His love bites almost distracted you from the palm underneath your skirt groping your thigh. Logan's hand was brought to the front of your mind when his fingers grazed the damp crotch of your panties.

"Got this wet just from sucking my cock? What a needy little thing. It's okay, it's all yours now, sweetheart. I'm all yours." He incoherently rambled with your tit in his mouth, "don't you worry 'bout a damn thing, baby."

He slid his hand under the waistband of your panties, palm now flush against your wet, hot cunt. You squirmed in his grasp, overstimulated from having your breasts and pussy worked at the same time. A finger rubbed circles around your enterence before dipping into the quivering hole.

Logan's mouth was still sucking and biting your flesh raw until your entire chest was flushed. The scratch of his beard only made it more intense. You glistened under the low light from a mixture sweat and saliva coating your complexion. He pumped a single finger in and out of you, losing control of the pace. You squeezed around him when he crooked the digit, swiping your sweet spot with every thrust.

Your arousal was all but leaking down to his wrist as he inserted another finger, fucking you knuckle-deep with his hand. He could tell you were close by the way you were scratching at his shoulders, holding onto him for dear life.

"C'mon, let it out. Be a good girl and let it all go for me." Logan groaned into your chest while you ground your hips onto his hand. He didn't stop or slow down when your legs violently shook around him.

The wind was completely knocked out of you as you came. "Breathe, baby, breathe," he coaxed you through your high. Your windpipe opened again and you gasped for air, shocks from your orgasm still rippling through you.

A lewd, wet noise sounded out as he slipped his fingers out of you. Logan brought them to his mouth, closing his eyes and moaning from the taste. He met your lips with his and the swirl of flavors from eachother was unlike anything you ever tasted. There was no way you wouldn't be thinking about the taste the next day, craving it's decadence until you got your next fix.

Logan kissed and held you throughout the night. From here on out, he didn't want to make it to another morning without you in his arms. That was where you belonged and that was where he'd make sure you stayed.

Fin.

[bad268]

I would love a story with Elastic Droid where reader is always cold and steals droid's hoodies and stuff to stay warm and one day during a group live stream reader walks behind them to get something and everyone including chat freaks out because they know it's droid's clothes

+ Could you write some living together fluff about elastic droid 🙏 -Anon

+ could you write something for droid with an s/o that’s really energetic all the time but just randomly crashes out and sleeps for hours 😋😋😋 -Anon

Domestic Bliss (Elastic Droid X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Youtubers

Requested: Clearly (Hope yall don't mind I combined these)

Warnings: None

POV: Second Person (You/you)

W.C. 1447

Summary: 4 things you and Droid do that's domestic

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~ (^Pinterest)

“Can I trust you to saute these onions without burning the place down?” You asked as you finished cutting the veggies for dinner. You were making dinner for the boys who were coming over to celebrate your engagement, but you had made cookies earlier with Droid. In true chaotic fashion, the flour had gone everywhere, and you wanted to take a shower before they got there.

“I think I can cook a few onions,” Droid scoffed, taking the spoon from your hand and lifting the cutting board to put the now-chopped onions in the pot. “It’s not like it’s rocket science.”

“Ok, I’m trusting you with this. Just please don’t burn the house down,” You replied before slowly turning and walking away. You were about halfway through your shower when Droid came into the bathroom. You peeked around the curtain to see him looking frantic. “Please tell me you didn’t burn it. That was our only onion.”

“No! It’s just not cooking!” Droid defended immediately as he stopped pacing and looked at you. “I don’t know why it’s not cooking! I turned the stove on, I turned it up when I noticed it wasn’t cooking, and I don’t know what to do now.”

“Give me the towel. I’ll check it out,” You climbed out and wrapped yourself in the towel before walking into the kitchen. Immediately, you smelt gas, and your eyes widened as you looked at Droid. Then you ran over to the stove and turned it off. “Are you insane!?”

“What did I do?” He shouted after you, following you into the kitchen. “The stove was on, but it wasn’t getting hot!”

“Droid, babe, you turned the gas on, so good job, but you didn’t light it,” You explained as calmly as you could. “Gas stoves need to be lit.”

“So I almost just gassed us?” He laughed, not realizing the severity of the situation. 

“You know what? Get out of the kitchen,” You said, snapping your fingers as you pointed for him to leave the kitchen. “Go order a couple of pizzas. You’re banned from the kitchen.” ~~~

“Droid!” You shouted from your bedroom. You knew he was in the middle of a stream, but you needed his help now. “Droid!”

“I’m here,” He sighed as he walked in, taking in the scene before his eyes widened, and he rushed to you. You just bought some clothes online, so you were trying them on. This one shirt, however, seemed to be 5 sizes smaller than you ordered, and you couldn’t get your head out.  “What the fuck happened?”

“I don’t know, but I need help,” You rushed out, starting to get claustrophobic. “I’m never buying anything from this store again! Their sizing is so off!”

“If it makes you feel better,” Droid started as he grabbed the front of the shirt and pulled it down just enough to meet your eyes, “it’s a cute top.”

“A cute top that doesn’t fit,” you rolled your eyes. “I buy clothes to fit me, not the other way around here. I don’t even know if I want this shirt anymore.”

~~~

A quiet knocking pulled Droid’s focus away from his screen. He was in the middle of editing a video, and there was this one part that was really pissing him off. He could not get this clip just right, and he was focusing so hard on it that he lost track of time. 

He leaned back in his chair with a sigh as he spun the chair around to see you wrapped in one of your throw blankets from the living room. You slowly waddled towards him, stopping directly in front of him for a second before sitting on his lap. You didn’t say anything as you simply laid your head on his shoulder.

“You tired?” Droid whispered as he wrapped his arms around you and swayed the chair back and forth a little. “It can't be that late, right?”

“It’s almost midnight,” You whined as you rubbed your face against his neck. “You said you would be done by 9, so we could watch that new movie.”

“I’m sorry, I got carried away with this video,” Droid apologized as he rested his head on top of yours before turning back to his computer. “You can stay with me until I finish up. How does that sound?”

“Better. The bed is so cold without you, and this blanket isn’t really helping,” You complained as you pressed your body closer to Droid’s.

“Maybe you're getting sick or something,” He commented more to himself than you as he pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. “You are a little warm. Here,” He pulled back, having to pry your arms from around him as he took off his hoodie and helped you put it on, “that should help you for a while. I’ll finish this up and tell the guys I can’t stream with them tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to cancel the stream,” You tried to object, but Droid just pulled you back to rest again. “The fans will miss you.”

“They’ll understand I gotta take care of you,” Droid replied immediately, planting a kiss on the crown of your head. “If anything, they'll call me a simp.”

~~~

Droid was, once again, in the middle of streaming Five Nights at Freddy’s with Puffer when they randomly heard a glass shatter, followed by sprinting. Puffer jumped in shock, thinking it was in the game at first, but when the running sounded too real, he turned to look at the door before back at Droid, who was unaffected.

“I think Oso broke something,” Puffer said before pointing at the door. “Do you wanna switch and go check?”

“It was probably Y/n more than Oso,” Droid chuckled under his breath, opting to just stick the night out. “It happens more often than you’d think. Now, if we hear a louder thud or it just stops, there’s a problem.”

Puffer looked between Droid and the door multiple times as he continued hearing running around the house. It went on for almost 20 minutes before it suddenly stopped. 

“Uh, I think something happened,” Puffer pointed out. Droid was back on the game after Puffer died at 2 AM. “There’s nothing.”

“Give it five minutes tops,” Droid replied after briefly pausing the game and listening. Then he went back to the game. Sure enough, about three minutes later, there was quiet knocking at the door. Droid quickly paused the game and gestured for Puffer to take over. “Here, you play.”

They swapped places before Droid continued to the door to see you sheepishly looking at him. He sighed, opening his arms for you to collapse in them as he rocked you back and forth for a bit.

“I broke that one vase you got me for our anniversary,” you whispered as you buried your face in his chest further, trying to hide from his reaction. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Don’t even worry about it. I’ll get you another one, but you’re not hurt right?” Droid comforted before changing his attention to look at your arms and legs for any cuts from the glass or bruises from maybe running into walls (one time!).

“I’m fine,” you chuckled tiredly trying to lean back into his body. “I slipped a bit in the kitchen and knocked my elbow, but other than that, I’m good. Tired, but I’m good.”

“Alright, come here,” he pulled you back into his arms after looking wearily at your arms. You wrapped them around his torso before he could scrutinize them too much. “You can sit with me and Puffer while we stream.”

“But I wanna sleep,” you whined, planting your feet at the door. “How much longer are you streaming?”

“At least another hour,” Droid guessed as he looked back at Puffer who just died again. “Dude, you suck at this game!”

“I don’t see you playing right now!” Puffer shouted back. 

“Fuck you, dude! I’m being a good boyfriend!” Droid shouted back before turning his attention to you. You were almost asleep against his chest so he dropped his voice to whisper, “Here, you can sit with me. If you fall asleep, I’ll try not to be too loud for you. Actually, I think you’re already asleep.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2025. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[strawberryforks]

Can you please write something for Tim Bradford where the reader is his rookie? Kind of like a grumpy /sunshine fic?? I just started watching the rookie and I'm literally in love with him😩

reckless smiles

warnings: probably swearing, mentions of DV & guns, other police stuff, nepotism (oops)

a/n: got you anon! hope this works! 🙈🙈 as always, asks are SO open! i’m working on a part two to the other TR fic i posted (per request) and if anyone likes this one there’s another small fic in this little mini series already written that i could post! it’s the call with barnaby <3 anyways, ENJOY!!

Sergeant Grey stands at the front of the briefing room. You’re sitting in the front row (like all rookies do), just happy to be here, beside fellow trainees Nolan, West, and Chen. “Rookies!” booms the sergeant, “today, we’re going to switch things up. Nolan you’re with Lopez, Chen with Bishop, West with me,” your face falls, smile collapsing completely, morphing into something else as you realize who's left to pair up with. Who you’ll be riding with today.

Tim Bradford.

Nolan leans over from his chair. He rests his hand on your shoulder while standing up and moving past you. But first, “You’ll be okay,” he assures—Chen, Bradford’s usual victim, doesn’t say a thing. Instead she shoots you a squashed smile and mouths “good luck,” you know you’ll need it but… but you’ll make the best out of it. Like always.

You steel your expression, trying to wipe away the upset that slipped onto your face momentarily. Despite Tim Bradford being the biggest asshole in the LAPD he’s your superior and you were raised to respect rank… even if you don’t respect the person.

“L/n, you’re with Bradford. Try not to kill each other. You’re good cops, we need you both.”

“She’s a boot. Hardly a cop,” Tim Bradford, asshole extraordinaire, chimes in.

“This batch of rookies is a good one and you know that. L/n is a legacy, top scores in the academy and a record number of arrests for her first year on the force. That’s not easily dismissable.”

Officers began to trickle out of the room, Lopez and Bishop were the first to leave, and then your friends—their rookies, Nolan and Chen, with.

“Feeding me to the wolves, West?” Jackson grins back at you, shrugs, and the door shuts behind him. Even Grey leaves, not wanting to be a part of this. The entire briefing room is empty save from you, Tim Bradford, and Smitty. Smitty, who has his hand inside a miniature bag of popcorn and his feet crossed at the ankles and stacked on top of the desk in front of him. He smacks loudly and Tim shoots him a withering glare. “Fine, fine,” he says, palms raised, “I’ll go. Just uh… tell me how it–”

“Smitty!”

He leaves the briefing room and then you’re left alone.

“Boot,”

“Sir,” you echo.

“I know you’re used to special treatment but that’s not how I work. I’ll be driving,” sure you (with your history) love to be behind the wheel but that’s not a problem, Tim doesn’t let Lucy drive either, it isn’t bias, just how he does things. “You do what I say when I say–none of that reckless idiotic behaviour I hear about from Harper. Just because she has unorthodox methods does not mean you should be copying them. You’re a rookie. Today, my rookie.”

“I don’t expect special treatment. And yes sir.”

Tim crosses his arms across his chest and tilts his head ever so slightly. He can’t figure you out–it frustrates him that he wants to. You’re always smiling and even now, looking at him with as close to a frown as he’s ever seen on your face, there’s something in your eyes. Not happiness but challenge, maybe? Determination. A sparkle that can’t be dimmed. Not with his shouting, not with his Tim-Tests. He almost takes it as a challenge. He almost tries to break you, to interrupt that inability to back down–the one he knows will get you killed.

The next week is awful but every day you show up to work with a smile (sometimes faux–but fake it until you make it and all that) and the drive to do better, to impress him.

You can’t.

At a DV call, the assaulted woman is terrified. Tim, he would leave that detail out, instead focusing on your shortcomings (how he had threatened to give you a blue page, how you sat there and took it: “I’d understand, is all I’m saying. If you need to put that blue page in my file, go ahead. And I know my lack of regret is not making this better for myself but… I’d do it again,”) that when the victim pulled a gun and pointed it at your head, after you arrested her husband, you decided to take away Tim’s shot. She was frantic and angry, losing her absolute mind, but moreover she was scared and when she pointed the gun at you–safety off, finger pulsing over the trigger because all of her was shaking. Tim had her in his crosshairs. You saw this and moved. You moved, knowing she would follow, and putting yourself at risk while making sure she couldn’t be killed. In your eyes, she was still the victim. She did fire her weapon. Into the ceiling, after you knocked the gun away.

Two similar incidents follow. Ones where you put yourself in needless danger.

You’re reckless. Impulsive. He’s seen you speed off duty, seen you sweet-talk the would-be arresting officer, give him your number and drive away scott free. All because of your smile, because of the twinkle in your eyes. The brightness, the innocent glow. Tim has seen you out at the club, drinking your bodyweight in booze, dancing and singing karaoke, and even a Clip Tok video of you soaking wet after diving into a partially frozen lake to rescue a dog. The public went wild over that one–Aaron Thorsen was in frame too, boosting the videos popularity. Tim could recognize the sentiment. It was great how determined you were, how kind you were, and the soft spot you had for animals and people alike but he was there and had hated every second of that terrifying call.

Tim corrects you, you smile and take it, switching your coffee into your other hand, handing the one you bought him over.

Tim shouts at you, that’s fine, you smile and take it.

That’s what you do, what you’ve always done: smile and endure.

“It’s downpouring, good thing our shift is almost over.”

“I’ve always liked the rain. It’s nice,”

“What part of getting rained on is nice, Boot? It’s basically the sky crying.”

“We need rain. If it’s good for plants it can’t be bad for us.”

“I find that logic flawed.”

“You find a lot of logic flawed, sir.”

“What was that?”

You tell him nothing, that you didn’t mean it, and your shift is over. Heading back to the station to grab your things you make your way into the locker room. Lucy’s there, pulling on her jacket and taking out her umbrella. “How do you do it, Luce?” you ask.

“Do what?”

“Deal with Tim. He hates me. I try so hard and he just hates me,”

“I don’t think…”

“He does. You know he does. He hates me because of my last name, because he doesn’t think I’m a good cop. Because I smile. I don’t know what to do. No one’s ever hated me for smiling before…”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “Just hang in there. We’ve only got a few months left before we’re P2s then Grey’ll let you ride with someone else, I’m sure. Maybe with me–how about it?”

You nod, and give Lucy a small smile. She sees through it, how tired you look, how defeated. She rests her hand on your shoulder. “I’ve got to get going. Jackson’s waiting for me–I said I’d cook tonight.”

“See ya, Luce. Have a goodnight and say ‘hi’ to West for me.”

“Of course.”

Lucy slings her bag over her shoulder and leaves the locker room. The door swings open a second time and in walks Tim. He’s silent as he walks over to you. As he mirrors your movements across the small room, grabbing his own things from the cubby space.

Hehearditallhehearditallhehearditall.

You paste a smile on, almost wincing as you slip past him and– “Boo–Y/n.”

Your back faces him and all of you wants to keep it that way. My shift is over–I don’t have to endure, you think, but then you hear your father’s voice. Hear his lessons on respect, on how things should work in the department, how to interact with coworkers, superiors–even the awful ones. You turn to him, you look up, meet his icy blue eyes and repress a shiver. You forget to smile. Your slips stay pressed into a small line as you look at him, realizing that you are too close. You’re too close and you should back up but you can’t. Your breathing heavily, you realize Tim is too. He’s looking down at you with melting eyes. The frost, the coldness, seem to fade away as his hand flys to the back of your neck.

Your tongue darts out, wets your lips, and then his press to yours. Your eyes flutter shut, your body reacting to his touch while your mind hasn’t caught up. TimBradfordiskissingme. MyTOiskissingme. Those thoughts are the only ones that make it through the fog. The questions are satiated by how he’s making you feel. His lips are warm and soft, like his breath, when he pulls away for a moment, eyes boring into your own. “Is this–”

“Yes,” you say. It’s okay. It’ssookay. Betterthanokay.You nod a few times for clarification and one of his large hands lands on the small of your back, pressing you to him, the other moves beside your head as he pushes you against the wall, caging you in.

You’ve never been more okay with being trapped. By him, by his mouth.

His kisses were talking and when they stopped, he was ready to.

Staring down at you with a fast beating heart (no match for the rate your own was thumping in your chest at) he smiled back, for once. It was infectious. A grin split your face and you felt blissful, for a moment. Like you and Tim were the only two in the world, like nothing else mattered, like you were floating in a bubble, transcending your problems and surroundings.

It was a nice bubble, “I don’t hate you.”

Until he popped it. Until he reminded you of what had just happened, of what led to this and the conversation you had with Lucy–the one he overheard.

“I don’t hate you,” he said.

“I don’t believe you,” you blurt.

He raises a brow. His expression says ‘you don’t believe me? After that?’ and fair enough, because all you believe now is that you’re incredibly confused. Incredibly, very confused.

“You yell at me, you constantly talk about how I’m not ready to be a cop, you regularly threaten to give me blue pages and criticize what I do in my freetime–”

“None of that means I hate you.”

“It doesn’t make it seem like you like me! You get mad at me for smiling!”

“I don’t… okay, I get annoyed sometimes but it’s situational. When I’m reaming you out, you shouldn’t be smiling.”

“It’s that or cry! I don’t like being yelled at.”

“I don’t like when you put yourself at risk constantly. That’s why I yell, that’ why I reprimand you. You’ll make a damn good cop but no one wants you to make yourself a fucking martyr. No one wants you to put everything else–the job, a dog–above your own life! I get mad because I care,” he argues. Then lowly, “too damn much.”

“Bradford…”

“It’s Tim, to you.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to worry anyone. I just…” you trail off, Tim still watching you closely. “I can’t not try to save someone. I became a cop to do good, to help people, not to hurt them, to shoot them, to arrest innocents and victims of circumstance. There’s enough awfulness in the world that I don't want to contribute. I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?”

“I didn’t want to be a cop but it’s what my family does–I like the job now, but the way I work it, you know?”

“I get it. I do. You just need to be more careful. You weren’t even on the clock on that call,”

You’re not exactly sure which call he’s referencing. You’ve intervened a few too many times when you shouldn’t have been on duty. It’s how you have (as said by Grey) ‘a record number of arrests for your first year on the force’ because you don’t let injustice slide just because you’re not getting paid. That, and because you’re ridiculously nosey.

“What call?”

“With the drug dealer and that stupid dog.”

“Hey,” you scold. “Barnaby is far from stupid.”

“Barnaby?”

“Yeah. He was a stray so I kept and named him. We trauma bonded–no way I was letting him go to a shelter after that.”

“No, no, that makes sense. I’m just wondering how the hell you came up with Barnaby.

You shrug; it’s a good name.

“Bradford!” shouts Grey, “you in there?”

Tim walks towards the door, shouting back and confirming his presence.

“My office! There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Alright!” Tim turns to you, he mouths his goodbyes and slips from the room leaving you incredibly confused.

[thomine]

THOMINE / a sideblog ran by (@)milkstore for genshin

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[sukirichi]

i’m so normal about aiku haha

[totalswag]

hii, I’m not sure if you take request still but if so is there a possible way you can do a drew x singer!reader one shot take on how Sabrina “arrests” her fans before performing Juno for being too hot but the reader does it to Drew during her shows please 🫶🏼

arrested for being too hot — DREW STARKEY

authors note THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS!! my request box is still open so feel free to send me any ideas regarding singer!reader or regular fic ideas you’d like me to write. this was so much writing too. thank for all the love on my last fic lovies <3

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summary "arresting" drew, your boyfriend, during your show before performing your song from your new album.

warning(s) none!

You are on tour for your new album in-front of thousands of fans almost every night. You worked hard on this album and it turned out wonderfully. If it weren’t for the amazing fans of yours, you don’t know where you’d be in your career— they are the reason you are doing this.

Half way into the show— going amazing. The crowd tonight isn't disappointing you. Everything you've hoped for on this tour. You've performed eighteen songs and about to go onto your nineteenth. Played musical spin the bottle not long ago which was really fun.

Before Juno, you begin with a small "skit" where you call someone out in the crowd, arresting them for being too hot. This became a thing after your first show of the tour and doing it ever since. Plus, fans absolutely love it. Interacting with your fans has always been something you did and create those bonds.

Drew, your boyfriend, is attending the show with Madelyn Cline, a mutual friend and cast-mate of Drew's. You told him earlier today you wanted to arrest him in the middle of the show to get the audience excited and it would be fun.

Drew was all for it, and he didn't want you to tell him what you were going to say—he prefers surprises.

Your pink, glittering, dazzling clothing was sparkling in the lights. You pressed your free hand to your brow as though you were looking around for a call. With security, you could see Drew and Madelyn making their way to the front.

You begin by adjusting your earpiece while moving around the stage in your long skirt. "You guys know that moment when you are in a room filled with such beautiful looking people that you start to feel overwhelmed?" When fans applaud, you smile.

"Oh, girls, I think I just seen my future husband in the front row! Oh my god, girls, come here, come here," you say anxiously into the microphone, beckoning them over and waving your free hand.

You turn to face Drew as the girls approach you, asking, "Do you see that gorgeous looking man over in the front row with his arms crossed in the tan shirt?" You speak into the microphone aloud, pointing to Drew in the crowd.

Your girls joyfully waved at Drew while placing their hands on your shoulder. As Drew blushes on the big screen, the crowd reflexively turns up the volume in the arena. 

"What's your name handsome?" With your head cocked slightly to the right toward your shoulder, you inquire in jest. 

"Drew!" You can hear him when he places his hands on the side of his lips. He gives you a childlike smile and a flushed face.

You say, "I'm sorry I couldn't get that?" as though you couldn't hear him. Leaning forward more, you place your free hand behind your ear.

He shakes his head and utters "Drew!" a little louder. 

"Oh my Drew, I must say that you must be a magnet because you drew me in" brings a smile to your face. Your tone indicated that you were trying quite hard not to laugh, yet you kept your calm brilliantly.

Fans had their phones out, capturing the entire interaction. Nobody would have expected Drew to be the person arrested at your gigs since the tour began.

"Drew, you are under arrest for being too hot," you say aloud, smiling and pointing at him— fanning yourself, moving your hips side to side as the sound of sirens going off with blue and red lights behind.

You put your left elbow against your girls shoulder, "guys do you ever just see someone so good looking that you just don't know what to do and all your clothes fall off in that moment" your long skirt slips off smoothy.

"Like your brain just like malfunctions and like I just wanna handcuffed to you now like," one of your girls puts the pink fluffy handcuffs into your hand, you kneel down, "do you know what I mean? Will you take these from me?"

Drew is overwhelmed in this very moment— it's very obvious how much you are affecting him. Drew gives you a gimme me gesture with his fingers, ready to catch the hand cuffs.

He takes them in his hands, looks down, and feels the smooth texture of the fuzzy. He tilts his head to the side before slowly glancing up at you with a smirk—keep in mind that he's still on the big screen.

"We're gonna sing this one to you, Drew."

Juno's song intro starts playing. You wave goodbye to Drew and Madelyn as you return to the center of the stage. You could hear the two begin speaking to fans in the distance.

Drew and Madelyn met you in the dressing room following the show. After giving Madelyn a hug and thanking her for attending the event, you moved to approach Drew and put your arms around his neck while grinning.

"That was insane," Madelyn exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. "What about the full call-out and the handcuffs? Iconic! "You're the talk of the night; everyone is crazy about it."

You giggled as your face heated up. "It seemed right." "You should have seen his face!"

She laughs, "I got the whole thing on video, I'll send it to you later."

"I'm going to give you two some alone time, but you did such an amazing job tonight and looked so hot doing it," Madelyn adds, taking your hands in her and wiggling her brows. 

"Thank you, babe. I love you always," you say, hugging her before she leaves you and Drew alone. 

When you close the door, Drew comes behind you, placing his arms around your waist and kissing you on the cheek, making you laugh with the tenderness of his lips.

"I'm so proud of you baby, you did such an amazing job on stage and looked unbelievable in your outfits made me feel like the luckiest guy in the entire world." He expresses emotionally, which uplifts you. 

"Coming from you, it warms my heart baby. Forever grateful to have you in my life," you smile softly, leaning against his chest, feeling that sense of warmth you always feel whenever you are with him.

"And I'm forever grateful for you" he quietly responds, kissing the top of your head.

"So what are we gonna do with those pink fuzzy handcuffs?"

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[froggibus]

i’m begging you for some nsfw hcs with wade & logan

i NEED more info about jealous sex with them specifically

please and thank you 💋💋

Jealousy Sex - Logan Howlett & Wade Wilson

Pairing: Logan Howlett x reader (no pronouns are used but has a pussy) x Wade Wilson

Genre: smut/nsfw

CW: poly! relationship, jealousy, possession, scent kink/scenting, taunting & humiliation, oral, double penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, AFTERCARE

omg of course!! the two of them being jealous over you would be such a handful >~< id love to write a full length of this sometime too!! thank you for the request lovely 💓

these two are such a handful when they’re jealous

Logan has no patience for other men getting in your personal space

if some other guy is talking to you too long or starting to get a little too close

he comes and stands behind you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your neck

he’ll make a big show of it too, sucking at your skin and breathing in your scent

“d’ya smell that? hm?”

you scrunch your eyebrows together, wondering what’s about to come

“that’s my scent. mine. all fuckin’ over ya.”

he’s dragging you upstairs to the nearest locked bedroom before you can even react

sex with him while he’s jealous can go either way depending on just how riled up he is

sometimes it’s deep and intimate, going until you’ve forgotten the rest of the world

or it’s rough and hard and biting, until your head is spinning and his name is the only thing you can remember

he’ll have you face down in the pillows, his grip on your hips so tight you swear he’s using his claws

his cock bullies so deep inside of you that tears form in your eyes and you have to wind your hands into the sheets to keep from screaming

and once you throw Wade into the mix…

Wade does NOT get jealous easily & even if he does, he just jokes it off

it would take a lot to get him going & god help you if he does

he’ll swoop in when someone’s hitting on you and press himself in real close

not nearly as showy as Logan but he’ll make real good eye contact with them and call them out for it

“i know i know” he’ll kiss the side of your head. “so fuckable, right?“

he’ll have you propped on the counter of the nearest bathroom, his face stuffed between your legs in an instant

he’s holding your legs open with ease & relentlessly licking your poor, overstimulated clit

every time you try to shuffle away or close your legs he’s pushing them further apart

“ahahah, not yet baby. if you can still move then I haven’t done my job right.”

when they’re together & jealous?? you’re not leaving that room for hours and they’re going to fucking ruin you

they’ll have you whining and overstimulated long before either of them slip inside of you

they take turns over who gets to eat you out, the other holding your legs open and mumbling a tantalizing mix of praise and degradation in your ears

they’re both dirty talk kings

by the time Logan slips his cock through your folds, your legs are already shaking

you’re moaning so damn loud that Wade has to shove his cock in your mouth to keep the people at the party from hearing

the two of them can go for hours thanks to their regeneration and if you think you’re getting out anytime before that…

once you’re nice and fucked out in Logan’s arms, Wade’s sliding his cock inside of you and then they’re both fucking you

they get SO caught up in the moment trying to one up each other too—the only thing they can agree upon is that you’re theirs

when the night is over, you’ll be stuffed to the brim with cum and half-conscious, fucked out on the bed

they’ll clean you up nice and good though

Wade is the best ever at aftercare, he’ll always have water and a warm cloth for you (or in this case, a tshirt he stole from the closet)

meanwhile Logan will massage your aching muscles and shaking limbs, kissing your feverish skin

masterlist | marvel masterlist

if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! i appreciate every like, comment & reblog i receive ^^

[tender-rosiey]

Your husband, sukuna AU, is driving me crazy. That's like my 1st time ever experiencing what a comfort fic was. I have been re-reading them like crazy 😭

If it's okay with you, can you do a husband sukuna AU but with whatever scene you want? I really love the way you write him,,, it's just so perfect 🥹

dry your tears — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: i am so glad you like them omg srsly you're too kind <33 i really hope you like this too 🥹🫶🫶

“my lord, her highness requests your presence in the garden.”

said man’s eyes open slowly, and he narrows them at the servant who instantly kneels to the ground. he scoffs, “requests? she sure has become impudent.”

the servant trembles, “that’s how she worded it, my lord. I swear I have no role in it.”

“I didn’t speak to you,” sukuna replies as he gets up as places his foot on the servant’s head, pressing into the ground a bit more.

the servant whimpers but tries to be as quiet as possible.

sukuna warns, “and you’re to address her as ‘her highness’ or ‘the queen’ only. do you understand?”

“but—but I did?” he splutters.

“ ’that’s how ‘she’ worded it?’ ” sukuna sneers.

“I didn’t mean it that way! I am sorry! I am sorry! my apologies, my lord!” the servants chokes out, and sukuna takes it as the cue to kick him out of his way.

he starts walking towards the garden, while stretching and examining his surroundings.

the palace hasn’t changed in the time he was gone which was good. at least the human servants are capable of doing one thing right.

the gates to the garden open, and they reveal you.

deep down, the sight brings a bit content to sukuna’s heart, seeing you alive and well. however, that is a vulnerability that he would never admit, so he gets closer to you.

you’re giving him your back despite, definitely, feeling his presence.

he groans, “what do you want?”

“where have you been?” you reply with the same tone.

he rolls his eyes, arms folded on his chest, “fighting, obviously. I was passing time.”

he hears you take a deep breath before you speak up, “and you couldn’t tell me in advance?”

he can tell that you’re trying to sound calm and collected. yet, he still can’t pinpoint whether you’re angry or sad. either way, he believes that your attitude is unacceptable.

he chides, “don’t blow it out of proportion, and you have the nerve to ‘request my—"

“you have been gone for a month.”

the edges of sukuna’s lips quirk up just a little as he starts to understand why you’re acting like this.

“not the first time,” he hums.

he sees your shoulders raise slightly, and they seem to get tenser by the second. you speak lowly, “but you usually tell me before you depart.”

he closes his eyes in annoyance.

this looks like it will drag out longer than he prefers. what he expected when he returned was him spending time with you, his wife, not you giving him your back and seemingly lecturing him.

“stop beating around the bush,” he commands, “what’s wrong with you?”

you grip your kimono tightly in your fist and squeeze your eyes shut as you exclaim, “you had me worried sick!” your voice is watery and is shaky, but you couldn’t help it.

you had spent the past month alone, nobody knew of sukuna’s whereabouts not even uraume. were you supposed to just calmly wait for his return?

he may be strong, but is it always guaranteed? especially considering how the sorcerers are always planning a way to lead him to his demise.

you bite your lip as you hold back a sob. meanwhile, your husband quirks a brow, “you crying?”

you open your eyes and stand up abruptly, “no, I am not!”

throwing the hood over your head, you turn towards the other entrance and announce, “I am going inside!”

you start your march with determination, but as you get close to the gate, you hear your husband sigh and stop you by the arm. he pulls you towards him, tearing off the hood to take a good look at you.

your tears are not plentiful, but he can see their traces.

you frown and try to pull back, “let go, sukuna!”

he raises a hand to cup your cheek and squishes your cheeks like a pufferfish. your eyes widen, and you furrow your eyebrows in frustration.

“stop this,” you shoot.

he looks silently at you for a few moments, and it starts making you nervous. you finally decide to ask, but then he starts wiping your tears.

you blink in confusion as he lightly scolds you, “foolish girl.”

you register the insult after a few seconds, and it makes you frown and look away while grumbling, “shut up.”

you sniffle lightly and pull away from him. he looks down at you, silently watching you. you try ignoring his gaze, but then you just snap your head at him and huff, “what are you staring for?”

you study his face for bit then falter, “if it’s about yelling at you then I am sorry, okay? I was frustrated and—”

he pinches your nose, making you yelp.

“your worrying is unnecessary,” he says slowly, “I will always come back.”

sukuna, you realize, is comforting you. he lays a hand on top of your head and commands you, albeit gently, “so stop crying.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will send my cat after you

[redcherrykook]

──𐙚 bad boy, good girl / highschool sweet♡s

────୨ৎ────

content: highschool sweethearts, parking lot blowjob, backshots, they r lovebirds, dirty talk, praise, big cawck JK, creampie, desperate seggs, getting chased by cops, jungkook smokes and sells weed, is tatted UP, oc is a quiet good girl nerd

note from cherry: this request is MONTHS old but i finally wanted to write smth fluffy and sexy, hope u guys like it!!

@rockstryoon 4 u <3

────୨ৎ────

the backseat of his makeshift hot box, ford taurus smelled like sweat and weed,

fogged up windows that blur the beautiful sunset behind the barrier, strangely, the best views are always on random gas stations or parking lots,

much like this back alley parking spot of a local grocery store,

"fuck angel, just like that" jungkook groans, his full sleeve tatto glistening with wet droplets that spurr from his worked up, heated body

"yeah? like this baby?" you mumble through the soft licks to his fat mushroom head, pink and swollen, leaking with his arousal,

you bat your lashes up at him, squeezing his heart in the meantime,

"so fucking good, imagine everyone knew what a slut you are f'me" clenching around nothing, you shift between his spread, muscular thighs, shoving his length into the back of your throat- fuck, he fills it out so well, hitting the very back

"you take me so well sugar" his hand combes through your long strands, slicking them away from your face while you work your hot mouth on his cock, he moans- a long, desperate moan as the grip tightens

your slick practically pools in your panties, clinging to every crevice but hidden beneath the plaid, light blue skirt

his half lidded doe eyes flicker down to your messy, half opened blouse where your tits sit perfectly, full view of the small swells that fit inside his large, rough palms, your stiff buds standing proudly, begging for his attention,

he reaches down to cup your tit as best he could, groping it, toying with the fabric that covered your nipples while he rolls his fingers over them

Jungkook was nothing like you, and that's certainly why you love him,

While you spend your weekends studying for your advanced literature classes, he drives around selling weed, getting little addtions to his sleeve tatto, skipping classes to go escape the world for a little, only to sneak into your room by your window, roughed up and with his signature leather jacket, a little scratched by the tree he needs to get on to knock down the window he knew would be open,

he loves that about you,

That you're so good.

Nothing about your sweet, innocence smile smells like danger- like a police report or a chance of rebellion,

he adores how you get shy everytime he stares too long, how he never needs to worry about having to pick you up drunk out of your mind but god- does he love how much you care,

how you sit on his lap and clean up his rough skin after a fight, how your eyebrows wrinkle in concern when he lights up yet another cigarette

"m'so fucking close angel" your boyfriend mutters, lip tucked beneath his teeth, the long, shaky digits on his hands yank your messy hair, gripping it so tightly your pussy aches for relief,

like a primal instinct, his hips start rutting into your mouth, chasing, running after the wet, squeezing sensation of your body engulfing his,

It only takes your soft, manicured hands gripping the muscles of his thigh for him to snap, stuttered hips that paint your throat with a coat of his cum,

your almond, ombre nails do it for him every time, how small your palm is compared to him, how feminine you are- smell, look, feel

"good girls swallow sugar" he winks and you roll your eyes, knowing that you loved to taste him,

slightly salty, but it tasted like adoration nonetheless, you lick it off your bottom lip as well, before meeting his exhausted, loving eyes

"c'mere" nose burried in your jumbled hair, he takes a second to inhale your scent, soft, fresh laundry with a hint of cherry that resembles your beloved shampoo,

you can feel his quickened heartbeat, body crunched up in the confined space but you need more, if you could crawl in his skin, you would, needing him everywhere

Jungkook showed you that love is sometimes unconventional, and that's the most beautiful part

"you did so good, so good at sucking dick aren't you?" jungkooks whisper lingers in your ear, husky, still out of breath from his high,

"oh god- please be quiet"

one hit to his chest, another,

"okay, okay sugar, let me make it up to you" he chuckled, catching your wrist before you could throw yet another soft punch to his toned chest,

he manuvers excellently in the small space, manhandling you like it was the easiest thing he'd ever done, until you're plump rear is pointed up, arched back perfectly on display and decorated by the bunched up skirt you decided on today,

"you're so perfect you know? So pretty" you can feel his hands round over your ass, spreading them to reveal your dripping femininity all bare to him, the thong you wore now pooling at your ankles,

"i love these little things, they make you look so sexy" refering to the white thigh high socks that squeeze your thighs, he taps them,

"gguk please" your hips wiggle tesingly beneath his hungry eyes, he can see your hands pressed on the seat and your head hung down in anticipation,

one harsh slap,

"be Patient pretty, you're a good girl right?"

onther one, your skin slowly shifting into being covered in a girlish pink hue,

"are you not hm? are you a little slut after all?"

just as he's about to deliver another harsh spank to your skin, your softened, desperate voice sounds all around him, making his lips elicit a small groan,

"no gguk, i'm a good girl"

"that's right angel, such a good girl" he breathes out and finally joins his body in with yours, his stiff, angryly throbbing length held heavy in his hand,

"feel how big i am?" he teases, watching with his mouth hung open while he guided his tip between your soppy folds, grinding between them to coat himself in your stickiness, he nudges your clit, thrusting against it to watch how you clench around nothing,

"mh.. gguk.." you whine once more, biting down on your lip to not yell in desperation,

"I know pretty, i know" as he says this, his tip aligns with your entrance, pushing all the way in with one go,

"god you're so fucking tiny" jungkook moans, gripping your hips to pull you back against his pelvis, his abs flex at the contact, stiffening once he's nestled his entire girthy cock inside of you,

you could feel everything, his raw, throbbing cock filling out every crevice inside your flush walls, veins bulging against your warmth

he's ruthless with how he fucks into you, giving you no time to adjust to his size that will remain a stretch forever, snapping into you with force as you rock yourself back on him, tumbling out whimpers from your open mouth,

"yeah.. so good, my pussy, all mine, made for my cock" his torso connects with your back, wrapping his muscular arms around your trembling form as he reaches deep into your cunt, embracing the overwhelming pleasure you can only whine, moan, and hope that he wouldn't stop now,

"fuck, fuck baby you're so sexy" its now his turn to whine, he's becoming restless with his movements, moans growing more high pitched and needy with every deep push into you, his lip ring grazed by his tongue over and over again,

it's becoming too much- too much to feel your soft, small back colliding with his half revealed, sweaty torso, feeling your walls squeeze him, sucking him in so well,

Jungkook's head is spinning when he catches a glimpse of your face, red cheeks, shut eyes and a drooly mouth that begs for him, the soft strands of your well kept hair now messily falling over your shoulders and features,

but he completely looses it when you decide to grind your hip up and down, everytime he'd thrust back in, you'd keep him there a little, only pathethically grinding into his burried cock even more,

"no fuck- sugar, if you keep doing that i'm gonna fucking burst" he whines, attempting to stop his rapid orgasm but it feels too good, way too blissed out to really try and stop you,

"gguk please, i need it" you cry out, only now he notices your shaky hand thats poorly trying to play with your clit, he replaces it quickly, drawing tight circles on it while you keep grinding your hips,

"cum for me pretty, let go, make a mess on my cock" begging, pleading with you to make it messy for him, make him feel how you fall apart on him,

and god, you do,

trembling underneath his body that fully surrounds you, your knees buckle as they dig into the fabric beneath you, you practically collapse on your forarms and tits, hips held up roughly by the many hands that still them,

"oh fuck sugar, you're so cute" he rasps, fighting the urge to cry out of joy, he'a watching your eyes wet with overwhelming pleasure but all you can do is moan, stumble out his name and feel him, feel him coat your insides in his milky release,

he swears in that very moment that he never, ever wants to stop making you feel good

"that's it baby.. that's it.. such a good girl.." jungkook speaks against your skin, his tired hips halting inside of you but he's fully wrapped you in his arms now, kissing your delicate shoulder, stroking your hair to slowly ground the both of you,

you feel his fluttered kisses collide with your skin and the spotty vision slowly returns to a normal one, the sun has set entirely now, leaving a small glow to illuminate your boyfriends face and body,

"hi" you giggle, pecking his nose when faced with the handsome boy again,

"there she is" he smiles, pulling your lips in for a deep, slow kiss

"my little treasure" he mumbles into your lips, words getting lost in what the both of you call only call love, a stronger word not having been invented yet

"okay but, i promise you i could beat jake Paul in a fight" the laugh that rumbles deep inside your boyfriends chest brings a fond smile to your face, even though he's ridiculous, you would never tell him that

"Course you could, look at that bicep"

"Right? I knew i wasn't crazy!" Jungkook exclaimes, flexing the very muscle you're fingers attempt to curl around,

"pass me the lighter sugar"

He takes the small object from you, igniting the weak flame to light up the brown cigarette in between his fingers,

"A blunt? Now?"

Your round eyes widen, melting his poor heart,

while you knew he loved to smoke weed, he doesn't really do it often,

given that he mostly sells it to whoever asked him for it, as long as they were at least sixteen

he hums, taking the blunt to his lips before dragging a long puff of smoke out,

"never a bad time" while smile slightly, he presses a few kisses to your jaw, nuzzling his button nose against yours afterwards,

"Don't we wanna leave soon? It's cold gguk"

he contemplates for a secod, but as his mouth opens to reply, sirens start blaring, a blue, radiant light right with it

never a bad time huh?

"shit" he reacts quickly, putting the blunt out and starting up his engine,

panic sets in, your heart thumps like crazy inside your chest and you could feel the cortisol pouring from your neurotransmitters,

"gguk what-"

"shh baby, buckle up, don't be scared" as he says this, he quickly takes off from the parking lot, speeding down the empty street while the siren keeps blaring, cop car closely following behind,

Jungkook is no stranger to the police and of course, you try to grow acustom to it, but you've never been directly woven into his escapades, not like this

anxiously, your hands fumble with each other, images of your boyfriend in handcuffs flooding your head in rapid time,

"hey, relax pretty, i got you, i got you i promise" he says, almost too reassuringly while reaching for one of your hands,

the other one continues steering, his foot steep on the gas petal but the cops don't back off yet,

"This is scary" you whine, whipping your head back to see you've managed to create a safe distance,

"Well not my first, don't worry" jungkook chuckles and if it weren't for him driving you would punch him in the balls right now,

"Somtimes I forget you're crazy" you tell him in all honesty, relieved when after a good 8 minutes, the road is starting to grow quiet again

"Okay miss perfect" your boyfriend teases, sticking his tongue out childishly

But you don't mind, sticking yours right back out just when you both fall into lighthearted laughter

"I love you sugar" he says, squeezing your thigh softly,

"I love you too ggukie, by the way.."

"Hm?" he hums, licking his lips while his eyes trace the road attentively

"Where are you driving to?"

"Wendys, you need to eat and I know your precious brain must be all jumbled from our little adventure"

you smile, leaning over to kiss his cheek, biting it afterwards

he truly knew you all too well,

"Best boyfriend ever"

Jungkook laughs, nodding in agreement

"Gonna have desert in your bed though"