#she’s also really cold when she sleeps
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I have this idea in my head that you can come in Inej’s room in the Slat at any given moment of the day or night and see her bed neatly made, and then go a floor up to Kaz’s attic and see Inej sleeping soundly in Kaz’s bed under like ten blankets, while Kaz looks at you from his desk like he’s about to attack you for entering his room, but at the same time he has this look that says ’wake her up and I’ll kill you’ and it’s terrifying, but at the same time you actually wonder what will happen if you do wake her up…
#Inej has a problem with sleeping in a room alone. she’s afraid that someone will come in and take her#she’s also really cold when she sleeps#so at some point she just started taking naps at Kaz’s office when she had the chance#Kaz was so stunned by it. all he thought of doing was to bring her extra blankets because she was shivering#Kaz doesn’t mind her being there. he can sleep in his chair#he also can’t say no to her so after Nina joined the band it was actually a regular thing when all four of them would a#stay there just to sleep#six of crows#kaz brekker#grishaverse#inej ghafa#inej x kaz#kazzle dazzle#kaz being kaz#kaz soc#kaz and inej#kaz rietveld#kaz six of crows#kaz x inej#inej#soc inej#six of crows inej#inej supremacy#sankta inej#inej my beloved#kanejdaily#kanej has my whole heart#kanej headcanon#*cries in kanej*#kanej
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Book 2 au: and there was only one bed!! :00
Because of course I just had to do this trope
This is the first and last time they decide to sleep in an inn and they have an unspoken agreement to pretend this never happened
#zutara#zuko#katara#atla#book 2 au#my art#i like to think katara is pretty clingy when sleeping cause she's from the south pole#and she's probably really used to cuddling in order to share body heat to get through the really cold nights#ofc she'd usually be cuddling up with her family and not the banished prince of the fire nation who's also pretending to be her husband#zuko on the other hand is not used to sharing a bed with anyone much less sharing his personal space and cuddling with anyone#but anyways zuko would rather die than admit he didn't mind it as much as he thought he would and that he slept comfortably well that night#to the anon that was just asking about this au this one's for you lolol#i told you i was just about to post something and here it is
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Speaking of "The City on the Edge of Forever," I've been thinking about how my femslash Spirk AU winds out through the canon TOS episodes, interacts with gender expectations of the show, etc, and am mentally organizing episodes by how drastically affected they'd be.
I'm also thinking of S'paak hiding her ears beneath a beanie in 1930 :P
#s'paak and jessica in a piece of the action too! damn. i didn't even think of their mobster suit chic era when i was planning but...#still. poor s'paak freezing while trying to build a computer out of 1930 materials and also passing as fully human AND pining#iirc there's canonically only one bed in their flop (no really) and she's torn between staying as far away as possible when they sleep#(for lesbian angst reasons) or huddling near her (for lesbian angst + living space heater reasons)#i think s'paak is obviously ice-cold when jessica's skin brushes hers but she blatantly lies about being fine and stays 6 in away at night#jessica (exhausted but trying to think of how to convince her. suddenly struck by genius): i don't understand why you're being illogical :(#s'paak: *affronted cat look*#also poor s'paak not only has to watch jess fall for edith but keep them from smashing into homophobia in the usa c. 1930#on the bright side both jessica and s'paak look very cute and i think s'paak finds she likes the music of the time#it once slips out when all three of them are talking that s'paak is musical and when edith is like 'oh what do you play?' s'paak is '...'#and jessica promptly says: oh she's a wonderful harpist. the first time i heard her play with some - uh - friends i stopped in the hall#and stood outside the door and just listened because i was on my way to somewhere else but it was so beautiful#edith: oh how lovely <3 i hope you'll be able to find an instrument to play someday - if things get better. i really do believe they will.#s'paak: ...i hope so. (and then edith goes away and with some not quite concealed exasperation s'paak is like#i have never understood how you manage to manufacture narratives out of nothing. and jessica just says 'well it's easier#if you take something that really happened and change a few details. it was your lyre instead of a harp of course.#and not all friends but just the rec room on *makes a gesture obviously meant to mime a starship. possibly with sound effects*#but i did get distracted and stand listening until our... mutual friend wanted to know what was taking me so long to get to the hospital.'#s'paak: .......i see.)#anghraine babbles#fic talk#fic talk: the lesbian spock agenda#s'paak#jessica kirk#star peace#genderbending#c: i object to intellect without discipline#c: who do i have to be#otp: the premise
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KateKevAaron cohabiting and Katelyn and Kevin automatically putting things up on high shelves just because that’s where there’s space/they’re things they use less etc without considering Aaron can’t fucking reach the top shelf
Aaron constantly having to haul himself onto the counters to reach things down (and also things going unused/buying duplicates frequently because if he can’t see what’s on the top shelf he forgets it exists)
Katelyn gets him a little foldable kitchen step and she even gets it in green for him but it’s too late he’s been a counter climber all his life (and who even has the patience to go get a step every time you need something!!)
Of course if she’s present she offers to get it down for him (he’ll allow this). Kevin thinks it’s funny to watch him struggle but he’ll step in sometimes as an excuse to press himself against Aaron (Aaron is less accepting of Kevin’s help and will try and race him to grab said item because he can dO IT HIMSELF OK)
Basically Aaron Minyard being a victim of his considerably taller partners 😔 extra suffering as he’s the main cook in their house
#he gets the best snuggles from his gazelle and flamingo lovers tho#they’ll change sleeping positions every so often so no one feels left out but they put Aaron in the middle a lot#as he gets cold easiest#and also he tends to have more doubt about their relationship and if he deserves both of them#so they like to sandwich them in reassurance#Kevin runs hot so he likes to be able to stick a leg out the side of the bed if needs be#Katelyn sometimes likes to cuddle her fave stuffed toy too so she likes having a free arm#also Kevin snores really loud and while she’s used to it now it’s not always great when he’s lying right against her ear#let Aaron be the buffer for that#Katelyn spooning Aaron spooning Kevin but because he’s shorter she can tangle her legs with Kevin’s as well#having Thoughts about them again#KateKevAaron
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im so fucking tired it's unreal i dont want to Do anything i just want to lie in bed for the rest of my life.
#text#trying not to think about how fucked i am if i fail this semester. w hich is looking likelier and likelier with every missed assignmetn#also apparentlyu my gov professor sent ellen a rly nice email sayinfg that she could tell im trying and that she appreciates that#and she emaield me saying smiliar and. :(((<3 god.#guy who cries really hard when authority figures are kind towards him#i need to just. get stuff done i need to just keep trying#but im so so exhausted#i want to go to sleep but its room check week and idk if my RA is doing room checks Tonight or later this week#i dont want to be in here when they do them bc im anxious#but i dont want to be in public either#and i cant be outaide bc its very cold.#well ig i could but i wouldnt be able to be on my puter bc my fingers would get so cold you understand#i need to find a dark quiet private room to hang out in that isny my room and theres nobody else in there
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dunno if this is just placebo effect but I do feel like it's already helping a bit. usually at work I'm fighting for my life trying to write emails or ask ppl for things bc I find it so hard to put my words in order in a way that makes sense to other people but it's been 100% fine.. and I've managed to just Do every task I need so far without rly needing to think..... I feel so calm wtf
#can't really tell if I have any side effects so far. apart from dry mouth but I had that yesterday.. I think im catching my roommates cold#also a bit sweaty but thats bc we STILLLLLL dont have functional AC at work and im working with an 80c water bath this morning 😭#its like a sauna in here rip#my stomachs being weird but then again when is she not. and its usual for me to get the shits on my period#so nothing definitive......#maybe sounds strange but I also just feel more aware of my environment. normally when im walking around I look at the ground a lot#but this morning on my walk from the bus stop I realised I wasnt doing that. actually maybe first time ive even noticed I DO do that#its too early to tell if this IS from meds but we'll see the next few days.. im glad i took it on a work day bc its much easier to see-#how it might affect me. i think last time i wasnt sure if there was any effect bc it was a weekend so i didnt have much i needed to do#but also last time i didnt have any side effects until the insomnia hit so we'll see how bad tonight is 😝 at least its a friday so if-#i cant sleep i can just play elden ring its whateverrrr#.diaries
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can't believe all my roommate's friends were so actively working against me when it came to who gets the big room with the balcony attached to it and in the end she actually got it....
#we agreed to make it fair by drawing lots for it#but i ended up suggesting to use the spinning wheel generator so that it's really up to luck#and i can't believe i shot myself in my own foot with this bc she actually got the big room#even though in the beginning of the year i asked if i could have it when the other roommate moves out#(we knew for a while that she'd move out in summer)#but then my roommate asked if we could draw lots maybe and i said yes bc i didn't wanna be an asshole 😭#but now she actually got the big room and now i kinda regret not putting my foot down and claiming it#bc on my side everyone told me i could just say that i've been in the flatshare the longest and therefore i could claim the room#but idk i wanted to be nice and look where it got me#it's not the end of the world bc my current room is still nice it's just the smallest#but i'm really complaining abt nothing ig#at least i'm saving money on rent 😅#but the big room would have been saur nice tbh....#and the fact that my windows still fave the balcony and now the roommate who constantly invites friends over has the balcony .........#you see where i'm getting at 😵💫#let's hope i'll get some good sleep the next few week before it's too cold to be on the balcony CJSJCHS#but yeah with her friends working against me i also mean that a lot of them smoke so apparently they told her that she should get the room#bc she smokes and has friends that smoke as if i am not worthy of a balcony bc i don't smoke like 🫠#idk i felt like i was the only nice on in the scenario who was willing to play fair even though i didn't have to and her friends were still#lowkey pissing on my leg behind my back yk#she was nice about it but her friends get the side eye from me abt the whole thing 😶#sorry for the rant#delete later#000
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i don't wanna lose this with you a spiderman gojo fic
pairing ⸺ spiderman!gojo x reader
summary ⸺ an amalgation of misunderstandings and stress lead to a very big fight between you and satoru, but you certainly don't expect the way he wins you back.
warnings ⸺ college au, spiderman!au, angst, hurt/comfort, i warn you reader might infurate you, but she's just a woman in stem :(, tooth rotting fluff bc he's a loser for his gf, not edited sue me
playlist ⸺ quantum rizzics
a/n you'll probably need to read the first installation (nsfw, so mdni) to understand this one :3
general masterlist | spiderman!gojo m. list
you've blocked gojo on all platforms.
you don't really remember what caused the "break up" (you didn't really break up). maybe it's the fact that you've been stressed about grad school admissions, your dorm's floor was covered in his boxers, and he's never been able to visit you pre-3am these days. somehow, the city's criminals are determined to keep your boyfriend away from you, and maybe it was your pms, or maybe it was truly just because satoru is annoying. regardless, it's when you guys have plans that's not an impromptu healing-gojo's-wounds-in-your-dorm-at-3am sesh and you're waiting at the coffee shop that you explode.
because he was supposed to arrive ten minutes ago, and when you move to go to the bathroom, you see him. through the window, his white hair is never not noticeable, and who you see next to him makes you falter.
he's standing next to a girl with blue tinted silver hair that you recognize as mei mei, and she's gripping his upper arm as she smiles while looking at his face, his lips with such fuck me eyes that you could tell they were having some sort of intimate conversation.
and if it were an ideal day, you would know that it's all a misunderstanding, you would know your boyfriend is someone you trust. but, again, the cards were stacked against you, and the only things that go through your mind all make your eyes all glossy. he's late to the one date that you planned because you and him were finally free at the same time and you've been busy because you've been desperately applying for internships because unlike your boyfriend you don't have a plethora of papers and coding experience and you've been getting four hours of sleep on average this week and ugh you've heard a rumor that satoru used to hook up with her and fuck now your tampon is poking at you in the wrong way—
great. now tears are fully streaming down your cheeks. in public.
as you rush to the table where your stuff is your vision is so blurry that you also almost fall flat on your face as you stumble over the legs of chairs and tables. blurting out a ensemble of choked up sorry's and excuse me's you hurriedly gather your laptop and notebooks in your backpack and book it for the exit.
the biting cold stings at your face, but you nevertheless determinedly move in the opposite direction of where satoru and mei mei are situated, praying your boyfriend doesn't recognize you. however, it seems that the heavens are working against you because you hear a yelled "baby?"
you don't look back because you know a new set of tears will leave your eyes, and with it being finals season, you're not very hydrated to being with. but you hear footsteps running towards you and fuck your boyfriend's long ass legs because he quickly catches up to you. then, he grabs your hands, attempting to stop you from running away and face him.
"baby," he breathes, baby blue eyes looking into yours as he moves to kiss your forehead. you stay silent, pinning your gaze to the ground while shivering. "where are you going? aren't we supposed to hang out right now?"
look, you and gojo have a good relationship. but recently, things have gotten...strenuous lately. you guys haven't been communicating, and it might not help that half of your calorie intake was from energy drinks. or perhaps what lead you to say what you said next was driven entirely by the brain eating mold on your unwashed dishes, but dumb excuses aside, you sneer. "shouldn't you be busy doing that with mei mei, instead?"
a small part of you--the part that knows you shouldn't be like this--feels relief that hurt doesn't immediately flash across his eyes, only confusion. but lack of sleep has not only stripped away at your sanity but also your people pleasing and overthinking tendencies, leaving you only as a girl frustrated, even irrationally angry, with her boyfriend. so you only avert your gaze when he dumbfoundedly asks, "what?"
"what do you mean, "what?"" you scoff, wrenching your hand from his grasp. "you were ten minutes late to our meet-up, gojo." it is at your use of his last name, instead of your sweet my love, that the hurt you've been looking for flashes across his eyes. he moves to speak but you cut him off, no longer wishing to be here with him. "if you're so busy talking to bitches you hooked up with before, why did you even bother saying yes to hanging out with me?"
he looks at you in confusion, eyes quickly flitting back and forth across you. then, slowly, as if he's still processing the weight of your accusations, he says, "i don't exactly know what you're referring to, but let's calm down---"
and you see red.
"calm down?" you snap, voice sharp and icy, just like the wind stinging your cheeks. "did you seriously just tell me to calm down? you were late again, gojo, and i find you chatting it up with her?" you practically spit the word, arms crossing as a flimsy defense against both the cold and the ache building in your chest.
satoru blinks, his confusion genuine, but you’re too far gone to care. "wait—mei mei? is this about mei mei? she's not—"
"don’t you dare finish that sentence," you cut him off, your voice rising as your blood boils hotter. "i don't want to hear how she's just a friend, or how it's not what it looks like. i’m so tired of hearing the same bullshit excuses."
"baby, you're jumping to conclusions—"
"and you’re jumping at the chance to look like an idiot in public," you snap, your hands trembling now, either from the cold or your rising fury. "god, what do you even say to her? let me guess, you go around telling girls you're spider-man to get into their pants, huh? bet that works like a charm."
the accusation hits like a slap, and for the first time, satoru looks genuinely stunned, his mouth falling open slightly. "what the hell are you even saying right now?"
"am i wrong?" you let out a bitter laugh, one that echoes in the frosty air. "you’re late to the one date i actually planned, and i see you with her, all cozy, like i’m not even waiting for you. like i don’t even matter."
his eyebrows knit together, frustration mixing with something softer. "you seriously think i’d—"
"i don’t know what to think anymore, satoru!" the words burst out of you, your voice cracking as hot tears well in your eyes. "all i know is that i can’t keep feeling like this. like i’m some afterthought while you’re out doing—whatever it is you do. swinging through the city or flirting with your exes or—" you choke on the words, wiping at your cheeks furiously as the tears spill over. "just forget it. i’m done."
"wait." his voice is quieter now, more desperate as he steps toward you, his hand reaching out. "baby, come on, we can talk about this—"
"no," you say firmly, jerking your hand away before he can grab it. "i’m blocking you. on everything." then, mockingly, "you can figure out how to save the world without me."
his eyes widen, his mouth opening like he’s about to plead or argue, but you don’t wait for him to speak. you turn on your heel and storm away, the cold wind biting at your skin as the lump in your throat grows heavier.
you don’t look back. not when he calls your name, not when you hear his footsteps falter. you just keep walking.
it’s 3 a.m., and you don’t know if you exist.
well, you do, but after how light you feel after you’ve cried a disgusting amount, you just lie down on your floor staring at the ceiling and contemplating the meaning of life. or more specifically, the meaning of your life, which right now feels like it’s revolving around nothing but stress and a breakup you don’t even fully understand.
you wouldn’t be having these problems if you were a childless cat lady.
but alas, you’re just a college student. in the few days where you haven’t seen satoru, you’ve finished all your finals—miraculously, considering the fragile state of your emotional wellbeing—and now you’re finally on break in your dorm. you’re supposed to go back home in two days, but the thought of packing feels like trying to climb a mountain barefoot. you can’t summon the energy to do anything except wallow in your self-pity and selfishness, letting it wrap around you like a weighted blanket that’s somehow comforting and suffocating all at once.
you’d like to say this is rock bottom, but truthfully, it’s worse than that. because rock bottom implies a kind of finality—a place to push off from. this? this feels more like you’re sinking in quicksand, the weight of everything dragging you further down.
in your stress and impulsiveness, you’ve managed to kill your entire grind for internships. deadlines have slipped past while you spent hours doom-scrolling job boards and second-guessing every application. the ambitious, career-focused version of yourself feels like a stranger now, buried under the weight of your own doubts and insecurities. and on top of that, you may have potentially lost the love of your life.
it’s laughable, really, how thoroughly you’ve managed to self-destruct in such a short time. the worst part? you can’t even bring yourself to check your socials. if you unblock him and see there aren’t any messages, you think your heart might shatter completely. which, if you’re being honest, isn’t exactly fair to him. you’re the one who had the meltdown. you’re the one who blocked him on everything. he probably doesn’t even know what he did wrong because you didn’t even communicate anything.
your stomach twists at the thought, guilt mingling with the ever-present ache of missing him. he was supposed to be the one person who made everything feel a little less impossible, and now you’ve pushed him away.
there has got to be a taylor swift song for this.
so you make your way to your spotify account to listen to afterglow, putting in your airpods while somberly looking at the ceiling once again as the lyrics fill your ears. tears well up as soon as the lyrics start
i blew things out of proportion, now you're blue⸻
tears well up before you can stop them, hot and heavy as they trail down your cheeks. god, you’re a mess. and yet, as much as you hate it, you can’t seem to stop the flood of thoughts that follow.
you miss him. you miss the way he made you laugh even when you were on the verge of tears, the way his ridiculous confidence somehow made you feel like everything would work out. you miss how he’d stay up late just to facetime you when you were overwhelmed with schoolwork, how he always seemed to know exactly when you needed him most.
and now? now you’ve gone and ruined it. maybe he’s angry, maybe he’s hurt, or worse—maybe he’s just done with you entirely.
the thought makes your chest ache, your breaths coming in shallow and uneven as the lyrics hit their crescendo.
i need to say, hey, it’s all me, in my head—
then, suddenly the song changes. you frown as you hear early 2010's pop blast through your ears.
i threw a wish in the well, don't ask me i'll never tell⸻
why the fuck is call me maybe playing?
annoyed and rubbing at your eyes, you move the change it back to, now, the sad girl hours playlist spotify curated for your and assume your dead fish position on the floor once again.
however, it seems as if your spotify is genuinely tweaking, like it's realized it’s gotten your attention. when call me maybe starts playing again, you groan out loud and move your phone. but before you have a chance to switch the song again, it seems to switch.
baby by justin bieber.
call me, blondie.
i love you, i'm sorry, gracie abrams.
letstalkaboutit, aminé.
i don't understand but i luv you, seventeen.
please please please, sabrina carpenter.
and then, once more, as if to really drive the point home: call me maybe, carly rae jepsen.
again, it's 3am, and you're stuck in a surreal mix of grief and confusion, staring at your phone as your spotify queue seems to have gained sentience. each song feels like a pleading nudge, an unmistakable pattern forming, and your blood runs cold when you remember one very important fact.
you share a spotify account with satoru.
"carly rae jepsen," you mutter under your breath, a mix of exasperation and fondness bubbling up despite yourself. he's hijacking your queue. right in the middle of your emo songs.
you sit up abruptly, tossing your airpods onto the bed, and hover over the call button on your phone. there’s a split second of hesitation—your pride battling with your longing—before you give in and press it.
the line rings twice before his voice comes through, breathless, like he’s been pacing. "baby?"
the sound of his voice sends a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, sharp and raw like an open wound. the sound of his voice makes your stomach twist uncomfortably, equal parts relief and guilt. "satoru," you say, barely above a whisper. "why are you messing with our spotify?"
"why am i messing with our spotify?" he echoes, his tone incredulous. "why did you block me on literally everything? what was i supposed to do—send you a letter by carrier pigeon?"
you wince at the edge in his voice, your earlier anger wilting under the weight of his hurt. "i… i don’t know," you admit, the words tumbling out before you can catch them. "i was upset, and i wasn’t thinking straight. i shouldn’t have done that."
"yeah, you shouldn’t have," he says, still sounding a little indignant, though there’s something softer beneath it now. "do you know how many songs i had to go through to make my point? do you know how hard it was to resist the urge to rickroll you instead?" then, there’s a pause on his end, the line suddenly feeling too quiet. then he sighs, his voice softening into something that feels too much like an apology. "i didn’t know what else to do. i hate not talking to you. i hate knowing i made you upset, even if i don’t entirely understand why."
you close your eyes, the lump in your throat returning with a vengeance. the silence stretches between you, thick and unbearable, until you finally break it. "i’m sorry," you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "i shouldn’t have blown up at you like that.” and now that the dam has been broken, it all comes rushing out as you start choking up. “i’ve just been so stressed, and i’ve been missing you and then i saw you with her and then got irrationally angry when i really should’ve trusted you and oh my god i’m like a possessive tradwife husband that doesn’t let you leave the farm i’m sorry and i didn’t even communicate before i blew up at you like that—”
"hey. hey, hey, it’s okay," he says immediately, his tone filled with an earnestness that makes your chest tighten. "i know things have been hard for you. i should’ve been better, too. more present. i hate that you’ve been feeling like this while i’ve been...doing spider-man things." then, he lets out a dramatic sigh, the kind that’s equal parts exasperation and playfulness. "but wasn’t fair,” and you can hear a whine in his voice, “you blocked me and then ghosted me like i’m some kind of random tinder match. do you have any idea how insane i felt when i couldn’t even check to see if you were okay? i thought you hated me."
your breath catches at his words, guilt twisting like a knife in your chest. "i don’t hate you," you say quickly, the words spilling out in a rush. "i could never hate you. i was just… stupid, and emotional, and i didn’t know how to handle everything piling up. i’m so, so sorry, satoru."
there’s a pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter, a little more vulnerable. "then why did you say those things? about mei mei, and… and me using the spider-man thing to get into girls’ pants."
you bite your lip, the memory of your harsh words making your throat tighten. "i didn’t mean any of it," you whisper. "i was just lashing out, and i know it wasn’t fair to you. i know you’d never do something like that, and i trust you, satoru. i just… i let my insecurities get the better of me."
"wait," he interrupts, his voice laced with amusement that shouldn’t make your heart ache the way it does. "you actually think i’d use the spider-man thing as a pickup line? that’s...wow. that’s genius. i should write that down."
"satoru!" you exclaim, half-laughing, half-crying, your emotions unraveling all over again. "i’m being serious!"
"i know, i know," he says, but you can hear the smile in his voice, warm and teasing. "and i’m being serious, too. i’d never do that to you. mei mei’s just...she tripped in front of me, i was just helping her up. i didn’t even realize how it must’ve looked, but i’ve never done anything with her. you’re it for me, okay? always."
you sniffle, wiping at your cheeks as your heart swells and aches all at once. "you mean that?"
"of course i do," he says, his voice soft and sincere in a way that makes your breath hitch. "i love you, even when you block me on everything and make me resort to spotify warfare." he sighs again, but this time it’s softer, the warmth in his voice breaking through his remaining irritation. "i’m not mad. i mean, i was mad, but mostly i was just upset. you really hurt my feelings, you know?"
the lump in your throat grows, your guilt threatening to choke you. "i know," you say, your voice cracking. "i’m so sorry, satoru. i’ll make it up to you, i promise."
"oh, you will make it up to me," he says, the teasing edge returning to his tone. "i want a week of boyfriend privileges—no complaining when i steal your fries, no making fun of my movie picks, and you’re buying me snacks for at least three of those days."
a small smile tugs at your lips despite the tears still clinging to your lashes. "deal," you say softly.
there’s a pause on his end, and then his voice comes through the line, quieter but no less sincere. "you really mean it? you’re not still mad at me?"
"i’m not mad," you say, your voice thick with emotion. "i was never really mad at you, satoru. i was mad at everything else, and i took it out on you. but i’m not mad anymore. i just… i miss you."
"i miss you too," he says, and the raw honesty in his voice---the subtle way it chokes up, as if he had been crying and missing you too---makes your chest ache. "so, can i come over? or are you going to make me keep hijacking your playlists to get your attention?"
you laugh softly, the sound tinged with relief. "just come over already, you dummy. and bring snacks. good ones."
"done," he says, his grin audible through the phone. "i’ll be there in twenty. and for the record, you owe me at least a whole playlist dedicated to how amazing i am and you sucking the absolute soul out of my dick---."
"don’t push your luck," you reply, but there’s no heat in your words, only warmth (and you’re absolutely going to suck his soul out of his cock). regardless, for the first time in days, the tightness in your chest starts to ease, replaced by something lighter, something whole.
general masterlist | spiderman!gojo m. list
a/n he's so cute :( i'll keep on writing stuff for them whether it be small fics like this or long ass fics. i think my next one is gonna be freaky if you guys are nice to this one
TAGLIST im really sorry if i missed you if you sent an ask asking to be tagged pls feel free to remind me again im afriad ur ask has drowned in my shitposts and other asks
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#aashi writes#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#spiderman!gojo
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Cuddling
Squid game x reader hcs
Summary: How the people in squid games would cuddle you (separate)
Includes: Thanos, In-ho, Se-mi, Dae-ho, Myung-gi, Jun-ho, Hyun-ju, Mi-na (non!squid game au)
Warnings: might be slightly suggestive at some points.
masterlist
a/n: I love writing these so much! I hope you guys enjoy them as much as I do!!
Thanos
Get ready to be crushed
Lays on-top of you
And does not let you get up for anything
“Let me get up for a second I-“
“No.”
While laying on-top of you he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck or chest
If you do end up getting up he whines until you lay back down
Type of Bf to use your butt or thighs as a pillow 😔✊
Randomly bites you
Has cute aggression 100%
Very deep sleeper
Moves so much in his sleep so if you guys fall asleep cuddling at least one of you is gonna be upside down when you wake up
Will give you pda anytime anywhere he does not care
I’m literally Dr. Seuss
In-ho
Not very big on cuddling
He tolerates it for you tho 😚
Even tho cuddling isn’t really his thing he LOVES when you sit on his lap
Especially when you’re facing him
Also likes when you lay on his chest
Literally just lets you cling to him and do whatever
Acts like he doesn’t care for it but we all know the truth
When he’s tired he just completely lets his guard down
That will probably be the only time he initiates cuddling
Other wise you’re kinda on your own 
Se-mi
Loves laying on your chest !!
Gives you neck kisses when she’s the big spoon 😏
Also a biter
Likes to have you on her lap
Touches your tummy while cuddling
you cannot stop her 😡
Clingiest Gf you can have !!
Takes every opportunity to hug you from behind and just stays like that for as long as possible
When you lay on her chest she likes to play with your hair
Another deep sleeper
Girl will not wake up for anything
If you are in bed with her you better be ready to never leave the bed again once she gets her hands on you
“Babe I need to get up”
“Five more minutessss”
Dae-ho
Most cuddly person ever
Big spoon !!
not so secretly likes being small spoon sometimes
Either rests his head on-top of yours or in your neck
If you guys fall asleep like that expect not to be getting up at all
Literally has a death grip on you
Lays his head on your thighs or chest pt.2
Will fall asleep immediately if you start playing with his hair 🙁
HATES sleeping without you
The lightest sleeper ever
If you softly shake him awake he will either have a dramatic mom reaction or he’ll just be confused asf
My babbyyyyyy
Myung-gi
Struggles to sleep if you aren’t next to him
Religiously the big spoon
He likes to put his hands up your shirt while cuddling and his excuse is
“My hands were cold 🙁”
“Damn right they are 😡”
Yaaaa we all know his real intentions ✊
Neck kisses pt.2 !!
Another one that uses your thighs as a pillow
Moves a lot in his sleep as well but stays holding you the whole time somehow
Loves you being on his lap pt.2
The type to rub your thighs while watching a movie or some sht😭😔🙁😭😡😔😔😡
I want him so bad
Gives you so much kisses !!
I need someone like him omg 😔
Jun-ho
Loves cuddling face to face if that makes sense 😭
Likes to hear about your day while just holding you
Listens intently and plays with your hair as you speak
He also enjoys when you lay on his chest
The weight of your body calms him down and he feels better knowing you’re safe in his arms
If he’s feeling extra vulnerable that day he’ll lay his head on your chest
Probably gets super exhausted after work sometimes so he just falls asleep the second he gets home
and when you join him in bed he immediately wraps his arms around you
Overall I don’t think he’d be to big on cuddling but he also wouldn’t mind
Hyun-ju
She’s just a big teddy bear
Especially when you’re alone with her
She isn’t too big on pda so in public she probably just sticks to holding your hand
But in private you’re getting cuddles, kisses, you name it
There will be a lot of giggling going around
Loves if you braid or play with her hair while cuddling
Lets you try out new hairstyles on her to see which one looks the prettiest 🤭
Loves when you lay on-top of her
When the both of you go to bed she HAS to be touching you
No matter if it’s holding hands or being straight up on top of eachother
Poor girl just needs you 😔
Mi-na
I feel like she wouldn’t really care for being touchy with anyone but if it’s her s/o
Sign her up !!
Definitely small spoon
She wants to be treated like a princess 😋
Puts her legs over your lap and just pouts at you till you rub them
If she’s feeling a little frisky she’ll get you to put your head on her chest and then just cling onto you
Loves giving you kisses !!
ugh I want her
Cannot fall asleep if you aren’t in bed with her
a/n: hii! I hope you guys enjoyed thissss! (If you’ve made requests it might take awhile for me to get to them I’ve been busy lately I hope you understand!) (reqs are currently closed)
#dae ho x reader#thanos x reader#se-mi x reader#squid game x reader#dae-ho x reader#squid game#choi su bong x reader#choi su bong#se mi#semi x reader#se mi x reader#junho x reader#jun ho x reader#lee myung gi x reader#myung gi x reader#myung gi#lee myung gi#daeho x reader#kang daeho#daeho#kang dae ho x reader#cho hyunju#hyunju x reader#hyun ju x reader#kang mi-na x reader#mi-na x reader#in ho x reader#in ho#hwang in ho#inho x reader
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Pj party for the gang <3

[BG3 PRINTS] - [COMMISSIONS]


(Please don't spoil me act 3, I've still not got around to play it-)
Everytime I go to camp to clock in for the night, and a good 4 out of 6 of these fuckers go to sleep wearing *leather* outfits- I understand it from a 'this is a video game of course they don't change clothes to go sleeping' perspective..... But on the other hand I slept once in leather pants and that was one of the worst experiences of my life, so to think these people do it voluntarily everynight- freaks. All of them.
So I gave them pyjamas :D that was a lot of fun ! Also I like when characters have a more diverse builds and sizes, so I killed two birds w one stone and drew what the gang looks like in my heart <3 and of course I made a quick little line up !

A lot of yapping about the pj choices and process below vvv
Gale : fancy depressed wizard gets a fancy bathrobe type get up ! I don't think this man was getting dressed a lot in that sad year post his breakup, so why not invest in a comfy cool pj he can slip on in the morning feeling like it kinda counts as dressing up ! And I get that they didn't exactly pack before getting kidnapped by aliens, but Gale is a wizard I'm sure he can just reach into a pocket dimension where he stores some of his belongings (ala my tes mage !) or something
Astarion : I don't think astarion owns many clothes. He isn't wealthy, and well.... Let's not talk about Cazador in the fun pyjama party post- so his ruffled shirt untucked from a pair of looser cotton or silk pants it is ! Also I learned that elves are typically shorter on average in dnd and that's great, that's perfect, that's so funny, I can just picture him insisting this is true (which it is).... And then enters Halsin fjdjdk anyway
Halsin : I just know in my heart that man sleep in his bear form. It's when he's most comfortable, and he doesn't need to talk to other people when sleeping so why not. Also comfy bed mate :) ! Other option is completely nude (yes I forgot to include him in the lineup, sue me but I'm too tired to re open photoshop rn-)
Shadowheart : this is my art, and if I want the resident goth girly to be in a cute little nightgown I can >:( she gets lace and everything let me be a lesbian !!! Also she small and sturdy
Wyll : a slight variation of his canon camp clothes :) made his top less skintight, and once again changed the texture from leather to something less terrible to sleep in seriously why are all these people committed to this lifestyle-
Lae'zel : no pjs, a githyanki must be ready for battle 24/7 only the weak wear comfy clothes and don't commit to sleeping in leather pants and leather underwear. She's a freak and I love her dearly
Karlach : she deserves the best pyjamas of them all : topless in underwear. Nothing comfier than that and it's not like she'll get cold :) also she wears it very well what can I say fjdjdkd



I started working on the lineart like a month ago alongside a commission that I really didn't like working on- so anytime I got work done for the commission (btw not from someone online so it's none of you tumblrinas), I would reward myself with adding more shit to the bg3 drawing djdjdkk which resulted in a lot of details and clutter, that I didn't want to start coloring because that would be a nightmare to figure out and very long to do, so I would continue adding shit instead of starting colors- and the circle kept turning. Also 10 hands..... So this took a while to get right fjdjdk
But on the bright side, it's the most detailed illustrations I've done yet and I'm really proud of it (especially all the little story elements I could include <3)
#it's currently 4:30 am and today I spent 12+ hours straight coloring jgkfj hopefully I'll still like it tomorrow :)#wyllstarion#shadowzel#if you squint#(and I want you to squint)#shadowheart#lae'zel#gale dekarios#astarion ancunin#wyll ravengard#halsin#karlach cliffgate#baldur's gate 3#bg3#bg3 fanart#bg3 wyll#bg3 astarion#bg3 shadowheart#bg3 lae'zel#bg3 gale#bg3 halsin#bg3 karlach#bg3 scratch#bg3 owlbear#bloodpact#cw alcohol#cw weed#cw smoking#my art#digital art
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My mom will be taking a nap in the living room with her HEADPHONES ON. and my dad will glare at me if I take a single step into the kitchen.
#drinking cold (hot) chocolate because apparently using the electric kettle is too much noise#it's not even that he was concerned it'd wake her up it's that both him and my mom default to staring me down like i killed someone#even when they're like. mildly annoyed.#it doesn't help that i panic when they do this but that's not exclusively on them#like could they chill out occasionally. could they do that for me#their child#i guess not#my dad didn't even know if it'd wake her up. this isn't me using the kettle knowing it could wake her up#it seems pretty likely to me that it wouldn't but neither of us know for sure#I'm 18 years old I'm pretty sure i can assess that risk for myself thanks#he's ALWAYS LIKE THIS too. you make the SLIGHTEST noise while my mom is napping and you will face the consequences.#even though she could sleep through a tornado#i just. ouuuuugh it feels so patronizing and harsh and unnecessary. it also makes me want to cry#like i get to a point. where I'm like maybe my dad isn't that bad. and then he reminds me he has the temper of a thousand suns#and he does NOT think I'm allowed to be upset about it ever. even when it's stupid#and i feel so upset and angry but mostly i feel scared. i feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop#and any second someone's gonna scream their head off at me or take away my shit etc#and this is like such a tiny thing but i spend all my time around people who i don't like and am beholden to and it really grates on me#so we have things like this that are like. nbd y'know. hell I'd probably apologize if it was anyone else#even if i believed i wasn't gonna wake anyone up#but because it's my dad. and he has spent most of my life alternating between ignoring me or screaming at me.#being protective of my mom. who is demanding and mean and selfish.#i feel like i want to cry and scream and throw something but I can't do any of that.#because it would wake my mom up and we can't fucking have that can we.
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Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)
A/N: This took way longer than expected, and I also sort of got carried away...Hope it still lives up to the requester's expectations (I also saw that the anon asked for fluff...and this ended up being fluff and smut...hope that's okay). Def some errors...I only proofread twice. This one is also inspired by "Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby" by Cigarettes After Sex. Enjoy!
Summary: Logan's kindness towards you is strictly friendly. Until it's not just friendly anymore...
Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI! Unprotected PIV, Oral (f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms (uh, they're outside...), grumpy!Logan, cursing, major angst, comfort, fluff, references to canon typical violence/death/conflicts, f!reader/afab!reader (reader has hair at the nape of her neck but no description of length/texture/color), mutant!reader, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.
Word Count: 4,662 my back hurts
It had been a long day. Every day was a long day. There were the kids to worry about, and then there was the rest of the world. There’s a war coming, you see it everywhere you look, and hear it everywhere you go. The news. The papers. The kids whispering in hushed echoes late at night when you’re walking the halls sleeplessly. You don’t want a war. You want a life.
The mansion is still bustling—it always is—but it’s slowly winding down. You listen as kids walk up the stairs in waves, heading into their bedrooms for the night. You know you should too, but you like it when the mansion gets quiet. You like knowing that everyone is safe, tucked away. You like it when no one else is around—when you can be alone, the stillness and quiet of a dark and sleeping house cradling you like a mother.
You find yourself in one of the living rooms, the T.V. still on, playing reruns of a cartoon you recognize from years ago. You smile as laughter erupts from down the hall, the padding of small feet echoing along the floorboards and the sound of much heavier boots following close behind.
“Hey! Watch it!” A grumpy, familiar voice shouts as kids run past the doorway to the living room, giggling mischievously. “Fucking kids.” You turn towards the sound of Logan’s voice as it bounces off the walls, his frame entering the doorway.
He has a plate of cookies in one hand and a glass of milk in the other as he strides over to you.
“Hi,” you say sheepishly, smiling up at him. He’s in his beater and his jeans and that leather jacket that hugs him just the right way. You try not to think about how good he looks as he places the plate and the glass down on the coffee table in front of you. Friends don’t think about friends like that, and that’s all you two are: friends.
“Thought you might want a snack,” he mumbles, pointing to the cookies. “And maybe someone to talk to. You’ve got that look on your face.”
You roll your eyes, staring at him incredulously. “What look?”
“That sleepy, stressed face you make,” he starts, walking around the coffee table and taking the spot on the couch right next to you. “When you’re listening to everyone, making sure they’re alright.”
“I’m fine,” you say, reaching for a cookie. Logan sits up and grabs the glass of milk, extending it out to you. “Really, I am,” you promise, but you know he can tell that you’re lying.
You take the glass from him, and his hand falls to your thigh. The feeling of his skin against yours is intoxicating. He works his jaw and opens his mouth. “What’s going on—”
“Logan?” Storm cuts him off, standing in the doorway. Her gaze is focused on Logan’s hand resting on your thigh. “Did you make tea?”
His eyes flicker between you and Storm. You tilt your head, waiting for his response. “Yes,” he answers, his hand lifting from your thigh as he stands. The spot is suddenly cold. You want to grab his hand and yank him back down.
“Well, the water is about to boil,” she says, smirking as the kettle begins to whistle.
Logan mutters a quick shit under his breath as he prowls out of the living room and down the hall to the kitchen. Storm giggles as she watches him, shaking her head. She squints at the cookies and milk, and then at you. You nervously place the milk back down on the coffee table.
“Wow,” is all she says, her arms crossing her chest as she leans against the frame of the doorway. You can hear Logan shuffling around the kitchen, closing cabinets and cursing. “All this for you, huh?”
Your jaw drops just a bit at her words, their meaning instantly smacking you in the face. “O-oh, no,” you stutter defensively. “It’s not like that.”
The conversation quickly ends as Logan walks into the living room with a cup of tea, passing Storm and heading to the couch. He sits down next to you and places the tea in front of you. The tag of the tea bag hangs over the side of the mug, steam wafting off the top.
“You like tea, right?” He asks as you lean over and grab the warm mug in your hands. The heat feels good, but not as good as when his hand was on your thigh.
You nod, swallowing those feelings down as you blow into the cup to cool the hot liquid inside. “Thanks, Logan.” You smile, and he smiles back.
Storm is still in the doorway, a soft laugh stuck in her throat. “I’ll leave you two alone.” And before you can protest, she’s gone, her heels clicking down the hardwood floors of the hallway.
Alone now with Logan, you can’t help but feel nervous. You bring the mug to your lips and finally take a sip, the hot tea dripping down your throat. Was Storm right? No. This is just a friend looking out for a friend. There’s no deeper meaning. So what if Logan brought you cookies and milk? So what if he made tea for you? He’s just being nice, kind, caring. That’s what he always is…to you at least. Maybe only to you—
“Hey, everything okay?” Logan’s voice yanks you back to reality, his palm suddenly warm on your thigh again. You jump at the sensation, accidentally spilling tea on Logan’s hand and all over your thighs.
“Shit,” you mutter, the liquid stinging just a bit against your bare skin. “I’m so sorry,” you say, placing the cup down on the coffee table. When you look back up, Logan is gone. You can hear scuffling in the kitchen again, drawers opening and slamming closed.
“What the fuck are you doing, Logan?” Scott’s voice chastises in the distance.
Logan scoffs, his footsteps echoing against the tile floors. “Fuck off, Summers,” he chides, and you can’t help but laugh at their bickering.
“Think that’s funny?” Logan teases, suddenly in front of you. He rushes over, kneeling next to you. He has a towel in his hand. “You okay?” He asks. “Anything hurt?”
You shake your head from side to side. “Nope, all good,” you say, grinning, ready for him to pass you the towel. But he doesn’t—he’s cleaning you up himself.
He rubs the towel gently across your thighs, sopping up all the tea. His touch is soft and careful. You can feel heat rise to your chest at the closeness—the intimacy of it all. You take a deep breath, struggling to calm your heart as he takes his time taking care of you.
“You sure you’re alright?” He whispers, his eyes suddenly searching yours. The towel hikes up a bit further, the tip brushing against the hem of your shorts. You’re dizzied by his touch, by the comforting way he smiles up at you as he lets the towel fall to the side. Both of his hands are on you now, one on each thigh. His thumbs brush soft shapes into your skin.
Just friends, you say to yourself. Just friends just friends just—
“Hey gu—oh,” Bobby stutters, standing in the doorway with Peter. “S-sorry to interrupt. We didn’t mean to—”
“What do you two want?” Logan cuts him off, his hands slipping off your thighs as he stands to face the boys. You can hear the gruff annoyance in this voice. “No privacy in this goddamn mansion,” he mutters under his breath so low you almost don’t hear it.
“Charles told us to come get you, Logan,” Bobby continues nervously. “He has to talk to you about something.”
Logan groans, irritated as ever. “Fine. Tell him I’ll be there in a second.”
Bobby and Peter nod, too nervous to say anything else, and walk away. Logan is still standing in the same spot. You can tell he’s thinking, contemplating something.
“You better go,” you say, cocking your head towards the hall. “Can’t keep the professor waiting,” you joke. You watch as the corner of his mouth twitches up. Your heart squeezes in your chest at the sight of turning his frown into a smile.
He turns his body so that he’s completely facing you. His throat bobs as his hands curl into fists at his sides. He looks like he’s holding back, resisting—but what? You can’t quite tell.
“Logan?” Charles’ voice calls from down the hall.
“I wanna see that plate clean when I get back,” Logan finally says, pointing to the cookies.
You let out a laugh as he walks to the doorway. “Yes sir,” you pledge, hand on your heart. His smile widens, his eyes grazing up and down your body, as if committing your form to his memory. What you’re seeing can’t be right; it has to be an illusion. You almost think he doesn’t want to leave you—can’t leave you. His feet are planted on the ground, his arms tucked against his chest.
He opens his mouth, but the Professor interrupts him before he can get a word in. “Logan!”
Logan steps out of the doorway impatiently, fists still clutched at his side. “Meet me on the lawn in thirty minutes, okay?” he huffs out, walking down the hallway towards Charles’ voice before you can give him an answer. Charles calls him again. “Yeah, yeah, old man. I hear you!”
Thirty minutes. Just thirty minutes. You can—absolutely cannot—wait thirty minutes.
God. You are so lovesick.
Twenty-five minutes later you’re sitting out on the lawn, far away from the mansion, waiting for Logan, popping the last cookie into your mouth.
You lay down on your back, the cold, wet grass sending a shiver down your spine. There’s a light breeze in the air, bending the green blades and the leaves of the trees back and forth. You look up at the stars, imagining just how hot they are, just how bright they can shine.
“You finished the cookies!” Logan’s voice calls from a few feet away. You sit up, watching the shadow of his form make his way over to you. You can see the smile spread across his face as he reaches your slide, crouching down and sitting next to you.
“Of course I did,” you say. He’s looking down at you, his eyes flickering across your face. You want to look away, but you can’t. It’s like he’s got you stuck there—he always does. He is the one thing you can’t resist.
Logan’s shoulder bumps against yours, the sudden warmth reminding you just how cold you are. You shiver, crossing your arms and tucking them into your chest.
You instinctively and involuntarily lean into his touch, searching for warmth. He catches on to what you’re doing before you do. “Cold?” He asks, shuffling a bit in his spot as he lifts his jacket.
“O-oh no it’s okay you don’t—” But then he’s taking off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders.
“Better?” He asks, his arm wrapping around your shoulders too, inviting you to lean into him completely.
“Y-yeah,” You stutter, letting your head rest against his chest. You close your eyes, too nervous to keep them open. His jacket smells like him—pine and tobacco and musk. Every breath you take is intoxicating. He’s everywhere, flooding your senses. It’s overwhelming, but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than with him.
He sighs, his breath fanning against your forehead. “So, what’s the matter?” He asks, tugging you in tighter.
You shake your head, looking up at him. “Nothing,” you say, doing your best to be convincing. “I’m fine.” But you know it’s no use. He can see right through you. It’s like knowing when you’re lying is part of his mutation.
Logan raises his brows. “You’re stressed.” It isn’t a question, it’s a fact. “I could see it before, when we were inside. I can see it when you’re teaching the kids.” He rubs his hand up and down your arm, the feeling almost distracting you from his words. His eyes search yours for the truth, for an answer. “You can talk to me, darlin’. I’m right here.”
Your breath hitches in your throat as those last three words replay in your mind. You swallow your nerves down, searching for the right thing to say.
“What if we’re in danger?” You stumble over the sentence quickly, shooting it out into the air like it’s something you’ve wanted to get rid of for a long time. “What if the stupid war they’re always talking about comes, and we aren’t ready?” You can feel your heart racing, tears brimming behind your eyes.
Logan presses a kiss to your forehead, the warm feeling of his lips unexpected but welcome. “Hey,” he coos, his lips still pressed against your skin. “It’s gonna be okay.”
A tear slides down your cheek. The words come out like vomit, each syllable slipping off your tongue in rapid-fire succession. “But what if it’s not? What if I can’t protect the kids or the team or you for fuck’s sake?” You can’t stop the floodgates—tears flowing freely down your cheeks. You’re speaking between sobs now. “What if they get to us before we can convince them that mutants aren’t something to be wiped out or some disease to be cured? What if—”
Logan’s arms wrap around your body, tugging you against his chest, pulling you as close as possible. “I’m not gonna let that happen,” he murmurs. “We’re going to figure this out. We’re going to be okay.”
“H-how do you know?” You choke, your chest heaving against his. “What if—"
“No more what ifs,” he whispers, his hands rubbing against the leather of the jacket—his jacket—on your back. “No one’s gonna hurt you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Gonna keep you safe, okay?”
“O-okay,” you mutter. “Gonna k-keep you safe, too.”
Logan hums, the bassy timber of his voice filling your ears, calming your mind. “Don’t worry about me,” he pauses, one hand reaching up to the nape of your neck, rubbing circles into the sensitive skin there. “Just let me worry about you.”
“Always gonna worry about you,” you say, not backing down.
You can feel his heart beating against yours. “You don’t have to right now,” he soothes. “Let me take care of you.”
You don’t protest—don’t try to fight him this time. You let him pull you into his lap, let him hold you closer, let him play with the hair at the nape of your neck. You can feel his lips on the crown of your head. He’s so close—closer than he’s ever been before. He feels so good, so firm and solid underneath you, so steadfast and constant. He’s a lifeline, a necessity. A safe place—asylum.
It has always been him that you need, and you’d be a liar to say otherwise.
Logan finally breaks the silence. “What are you thinking about?” He asks. You, you think.
“Me?” What?
“Did I just…” you trail off. “Did I say that out loud?”
“Yeah, you did,” he husks, his hands lowering down your back, slipping under the jacket and your thin t-shirt to the bare skin underneath. His palms are warm, and his touch is tentative, hesitant. “This okay?”
“Y-yes,” you stammer, and Logan starts to draw patterns and shapes across your back. “Feels nice.” Your voice is soft and shaky as he explores your skin.
“I’ve been thinking about you too, you know,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. His nails drag across your back. You move your legs to straddle him. “You’re the only thing on my mind, princess.” He presses his forehead to yours as if to show you, to prove to you that he’s telling the truth. You shudder at the words, at the thought. He presses a chaste kiss to your nose, lowering his lips until they’re just centimeters from yours.
The world feels frozen. You’ve long forgotten you’re outside, the breeze cutting across the grass. You’ve forgotten about the stars twinkling above you. They’re nothing—just balls of heat burning out millions of miles away. You’ve forgotten about all the hatred you’re forced to face, all the variables and lives at stake in this stupid war. Your mind is calm. Everything is suddenly nothing.
Everything is him. Logan.
“Logan,” you mumble. It’s a plea, a prayer, a demand. And he knows exactly what you’re asking for as his name hangs in the air between the two of you.
His lips crash down onto yours, tasting you, savoring you. But it isn’t languid or slow—it’s rushed, frantic, starving, as if your world is ending; it very well could be. He’s pushing you down onto the grass, his muscular arms on either side of your head, caging you in underneath him.
“Wanted you this whole time,” he pants in between kisses. “Needed you, couldn’t stop thinking about you. Still can’t.” He pushes the jacket open with one of his hands and hitches your shirt up. He lowers himself onto his forearm as his nails drag up your stomach, settling just under your ribs. He spreads his palm, feeling the expanse of your skin, tracing your curves and the dips of your body.
“F-fuck,” you stutter, arching your back off the grass and into his chest, offering more of yourself to him.
He bites your lower lip and kisses the pain away. “You gonna let me take you right here?” He growls, his fingers playing with the hem of your bra. “Gonna let me fuck you outside, pretty girl?”
“Yes,” you whine, lifting your hips against his, feeling his erection straining in his jeans. “Need you, Lo.”
He curses under his breath as he sits up, his hands pawing at the leather jacket, tearing it from your body and casting it aside. You sit up too, keeping yourself close to him. He’s yanking at the hem of your shirt, lifting it up and over your head. He takes off his beater next, but you don’t get the chance to admire him. Everything is a blur, the throwing of clothes, the way he’s shoving you back down to the grass as his fingers unclasp your bra. The straps fall down your arms, and Logan slips it off the rest of the way.
He pauses, taking you in, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, lowering himself back down over you, balancing on one forearm as his free hand slides up your stomach, over your ribs, finally settling on your chest. He cups your tits, squeezing gently, his thumb brushing over one nipple and then the other.
“Perfect. You’re so goddamn perfect,” he praises, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and then to your chin. He continues his trail down to your jaw, your collarbone, the center of your chest.
He takes a detour, his lips latching onto your nipple and biting lightly, his tongue flicking out and soothing the ache away. He kisses across the valley of your chest, bringing his mouth to the other side. He flits his tongue across your other nipple, and continues his trail down your stomach, peppering innocent kisses as he travels lower and lower.
He stops at the hem of your shorts, looking up at you under hooded eyes. You can see the lust, the desire, the need. “Please,” you whimper. And then he’s hastily unbuttoning and unzipping your shorts, wasting no time as he hooks his fingers into the waistbands of your shorts and panties, yanking them down your legs and throwing them carelessly into the grass.
Logan pushes your thighs open. “Keep your legs spread for me, sweetheart.” You can feel his breath on your clit. “Wanna taste you,” he rasps, kissing your core teasingly. “Wanna feel you come on my tongue.”
And then his tongue is pushing through your folds, lapping at your juices, all the way up to your clit. It’s already too much, your hips lifting off the grass. Logan brings his arm across your hips in response, keeping you down. “Stay,” he grunts, his voice vibrating against your heat. “Don’t know where you think you’re going, princess.” He’s looking up at you now. You can see the desperation and the hunger in his eyes.
He's starving for you.
He buries his face back into your cunt, swiping his tongue through your folds again before finally settling on your clit. He latches his lips around the bud, sucking harshly. He flicks his tongue out, drawing sweet, sacrilegious circles against your core.
His free hand climbs up your inner thigh, spreading your legs wider for him. His nails ghost across your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. He finds his way to your folds, spreading your slick, teasing your entrance. You moan his name as he presses your squirming hips down firmly into the ground. “Doing so good for me,” he breathes against your swollen clit. “Such a sweet fucking pussy.”
He sinks two fingers deep into your cunt, humming against you, savoring the taste of you. He pumps in and out, deeper every time. “F-fuck Lo,” you cry out, your hands grasping the blades of grass beneath you for purchase. “Feels so good.”
Your walls flutter around him, your muscles already contracting as he works you open. “That’s it, princess,” he huffs, his teeth grazing your clit as he sucks, hard. “Can feel you squeezing my fingers, can feel you getting close.”
“S-so close,” you choke out as he fucks his fingers into you. His pace becomes faster, relentless. He laps at you like he’s a man who has never eaten in his life.
“I know, sweetheart,” he soothes. “Come on my tongue, darlin’. Know you can do it.” He’s working you through it, swirling his tongue, flicking your clit, licking thick, hard stripes around the bud. His long fingers scissor inside you, rubbing against your walls deliciously. It’s all too much, but it’s just what you need. “Let go for me, pretty girl.”
You feel your walls contract as the fire in your belly spills. You chant his name—Logan. It’s a prayer—no—a promise. It hangs in the air as you come undone underneath him. His fingers pump in and out of you slowly, helping you ride out your orgasm. He carefully pulls out after a few more thrusts, but his face is still buried in your cunt, still lapping at your swollen, overstimulated clit.
“Lo,” you whimper, looking down at him. He looks up at you, his tongue licking one long stripe before he stops completely.
He presses a chaste kiss to your clit as he sits up and unbuckles his belt. “Gonna have to taste that pretty pussy again later, yeah?” He throws his belt to the side and unbuttons his jeans. He slides the zipper down, too, and hooks his fingers inside his jeans, shoving the denim and his boxers down his legs in one quick movement.
You can make out just how big he is in the moonlight. You swallow at the size of him. He lowers down onto you again, resting on his forearm, guiding his cock towards your entrance.
He captures your lips in a kiss as he nudges against you, teasing you, spreading your folds open for him. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” he coos, kissing you again. “Gonna make you feel good.”
You wrap your arms around his back, bringing his chest flush to yours. “Need you, Logan. Need you inside me.”
“I know,” he whispers, nudging teasingly against you again. “I know.”
And then he’s shoving himself deep inside you, filling you up. You can feel his cock twitching, throbbing, searching for more of you. He pulls all the way out and buries himself back down to the hilt.
“F-fuck,” you curse, your nails digging into his shoulders, searching for support. “It’s s-so much. So big.”
He presses his forehead to yours. “I’ve got you, pretty girl,” he husks, setting a slow, easy pace, letting you adjust to the size of him. “Taking me so good.” He’s working you open with every pump, his cock rubbing against your walls and stretching you out.
Logan brings his free hand between your bodies to your still-swollen clit, stroking gently as he plunges deeper into you, hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You moan his name, your chest coming flush with his as you arch your back. The contact feels so nice—just what you needed. He’s fucking you out, pounding into you over and over again.
He's erasing every fear, every bad dream, every horrible vision you’ve ever had. It’s what he does to you. It’s just him—Logan—always has been and always will be.
“Such a good girl,” he grunts. “Letting me fuck you out here.” His hips snap against yours—building his pace, growing faster and deeper as he thrusts into you. You can feel yourself growing closer, crumbling underneath him. You can’t last much longer, your walls fluttering around him, squeezing him tightly.
He moans your name into your mouth, his tongue sliding across your bottom lip, tasting you. “You feel so good, pretty girl,” he groans, rocking into you. “So soft, so tight. Know you’re close.” He flicks your clit, and then circles roughly. “Wanna feel you come on my cock.”
“G-gonna…” You trail off, a bumbling mess, unable to finish your sentence as Logan fucks into you.
“I know, pretty girl,” He soothes. “I’m right here, I’ve got you. Come for me.”
You can’t hold back anymore. You can feel yourself letting go, your walls fluttering around him, taking him deeper, holding him tighter. Your orgasm washes over you, like sun stretching across your skin, like a fire spreading in a forest. It’s all too much, too good.
Logan isn’t far behind. You can feel his cock twitching deep inside you, his pace faltering, his thrusts becoming sloppier. His fingers leave your clit and travel up your body. His hand slides to the back of your neck, holding you gently as he pumps into you, pressing his forehead to yours.
“Wanna come inside you, pretty girl,” he moans, pulling you closer, taking you deeper.
You nod against his forehead. “P-please,” you stutter, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Don’t want you to leave yet.”
“F-fuck,” he growls, your words sending him over the edge as he spills inside you, filling you up. “You’ve idea,” he chokes, “how long I’ve fucking wanted you.” His thrusts slow as he rides out his orgasm, pumping in and out a few more times before pulling out of you.
He doesn’t break contact—doesn’t rush to get changed. He rolls onto his back and pulls you with him so that your head rests on his chest, your body tucked tightly into his. You can hear his heart beating deep inside—hear his shaky breaths become more stable. The air is no longer cold—the breeze a welcome contrast to the hot summer night air.
Your legs tangle together. Somewhere in the distance birds sing. A branch creaks. The wind whisks through the grass. You close your eyes and listen. The calm before the storm. This peace can’t last.
“Lo?” You call, breaking the silence.
He kisses the crown of your head. “I’m right here.”
“I know, but—”
It’s like he can read your mind. “I’m not going anywhere. No one is.” He tightens his arms around you, pulling you closer.
“I’m just scared to lose you, to lose all this.”
Logan presses another kiss to your head. “I know,” he murmurs. “But I’ve got you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you. I promise.”
Nothing’s gonna take you from my side.
#Logan Howlett x reader#Wolverine x reader#James Logan Howlett x reader#Logan Howlett x reader smut#Wolverine x reader smut#James Logan Howlett x reader smut#Logan Howlett smut#Wolverine smut#James Logan Howlett smut#Logan Howlett imagine#Wolverine imagine#James Logan Howlett imagine#Logan Howlett x you#Wolverine x you#James Logan Howlett x you#Logan Howlett x you smut#Wolverine x you smut#James Logan Howlett x you smut
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sick love
spencer reid x fem! reader

pt2!!
synopsis;;
you catch your best friend spencer touching himself and far from being embarrassed, it only turns him on even more. if only you knew he had been dreaming about this moment for his entire fucking life and that he has even planned for it to happen…
cw;; (let’s act as if spencer and reader are the same age (consensual 18) in high school
really perv!spencer, dark themes, spencer uses readers body without implicit consent (i don’t know if it counts as cnc since later we find out she doesn’t mind), somnophilia (if you squint), INDECENT use of cum, stalker behavior, use of masculine sex toys, breeding kink, mommy and daddy kink, praise kink, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms, oral sex (f receiving), sub and dom spencer, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cum eating, cream pie, masturbation (m), voyeurism (?), dacryphilia, violence (not towards reader), dirty talking, hair pulling, blood… MINORS DNI OR I’LL COME FOR YOU!
@cafekitsune ‘s separators
Spencer was obsessed with you. Not in a lovely kind of obsessed —that too— but in a really perverted way. His sick infatuation commenced a warm summer, when you and him, best friends since freshman year, had ended up staying up late in your house for a movie night. Your parents were no where to be seen, and being scared of spending the night alone, you invited Spencer for a sleep over.
Everything was perfect. Little snacks, the newest film in D.C in tape and a cozy sofa in which the two of you silently rested as you stared at the tv. That was until you had fallen sleep on the other end of the sofa, loose and extremely short pijama pants letting your lace panties show and nipples erect due to the coldness of the night underneath your tight and white tank top. He found himself stating for far too long, instead of bringing up on your body the blanket that you both had been shared, his eyes taking in just how beautifully exposed you were.
Full honesty? He didn’t even remember how his dick had gotten that hard nor how it had ended on one of his hands, palm slick in precum as he thrusted in it, bottom lip in between his teeth and soft moans and groans scaping his lips. But he didn’t care. He came so hard that night that he swore he saw stars on your living room’s ceiling.
After that, he of course felt awkward and embarrassed of himself around you. Masturbating to his sleeping best friend, and just mere inches away from you? Jesus Christ. Though that remorse quickly went away when he found himself sinking deeper in that sickness under your name.
He relished in that pretty tears of yours when you cried about another stupid boy being mean to you and dumping you against his neck, your tits fully pressed to his chest and whimpers making his cock push against his jeans, even more when that same guys were the ones crying and begging for him to stop as he beat the shit out of them.
He liked to see you cry, but if it wasn’t because of him, he wouldn’t have it. He sent a couple of them to the ER, but they were too scared to get a couple more bones broken if they ever spoke up,— and also, who would believe them if they said that the slender nerd of their class was the one that beat them up— so he always got away with it. In no time, the guys were fucking terrified of even glancing at you, leaving you all to himself. Like it had to be. You were his, or you’ll be.
You were always complaining about things of yours disappearing, “Fuck! I cant found my chapstick.” him shrugging even when he knew that he was, in fact, the thug. Then, he’d go back to his house and open the last drawer of his desk — which he had under key— and take the same chapstick out of his pocket to push it inside along with the other things he had stolen from you: lipgloss, necklaces, bracelets… Panties.
He loved them. He almost had a collection of them, of all types; cotton, lace, thongs… He loved the ones that he stole from the dirty laundry the most, which’s crotch he could push against his nose and lick as he fucked his fist. Getting to taste and smell your slick always drove him crazy.
Another thing Spencer loved to do was take photos of you. He had albums and albums of polaroids for the two of you, being both on the pictures or just you. He loved to watch them from time to time: you smiling, you singing, you dancing, you blowing a kiss to the camera, jumping in the pool, petting a stray cat… Being simply you.
But he also had some photos that were exceptionally and just for him. Some of them were flashes of your body in those little and pretty bikinis you always wore in the warm summers, some other of your naked body —facing away from the door of your bathroom— when you changed, you eating ice cream with cheeks, lips and tongue stained in the vanilla treat, some of you sleeping, some others of the panties and little skirts that you’d wear. He even had one of you resting asleep on his lap, lips parted and against his hard cock. He saved some of them on his wallet in case he ever had to take care of a boner when he hung out with you.
He was in love with you. Sickly in love. Sickly enough to take some of those photos of yours and cut out your face just to tape them to his porn magazines. Some of the pages had even stuck together due to his cum.
And you were just so unbelievably oblivious of his infatuation that you always left the window to your room unlocked in case he ever wanted to sneak in in the middle of the night to stay with you if he ever felt lonely in his empty house. At first, before his infatuation appeared, he would sneak in from time to time when the loneliness became too strong for him to handle, cuddling with you and leaving first hour in the morning. Now? Now he snuck in almost every goddamn night. To cuddle, to watch you sleep, to be able to hold you close and even to take advantage of your heavy slumber. He had licked his cum out of your fingers when he had used your hand to masturbate, having to hold in his moans and whimpers. Other nights, he would get under your covers and part your thighs just to push his head in between them, face against your clothed cunt as his hips buckled against the duvet, tongue flattening against your heat and moaning when your thighs would unconsciously squish his head.
He loved it when you played with his hair, groaning when you’d pull from it when he’d tickle you, and laughing when you’d scream at him for using your good conditioner after a pool day. He was obsessed with your little lotions and expensive shampoos, using them as lube to fuck his hand while he showered in your house, using then his cum to fill the tubes, evening out the difference.
He would steal food from you in the cafeteria, using your own fork or spoons just to be able to have your spit in his mouth. You’d always whine about it, but he never stopped, so you eventually stopped caring, giving him full access to it when you were full.
Spencer considered himself to be a man with clear tastes when it came to sexual preferences. He would love to fuck you to his liking, to sink you into submission and to get you to call him daddy. He thought of himself as a dominant kind of person rather than a submissive one, but that changed when in one of his numerous wet dreams it was you the one who choked him and fucked him, using him like you’d use a fucking toy. He had woke up with a raging orgasm as from his lips fell the word ‘mommy’.
Was he a pervert? Absolutely. Would he ever speak up about his feelings for you? Absolutely not.
He’d prefer to die with a boner than ever telling you he loved you. He was just terrified of the thought of you pushing him away or ever hurting your friendship.
So after a day full of what he thought of ‘teasing’, since it always involved you dressing in one of those incredibly short skirts or staring at him for too long as you sucked on one of the lollipops that he always bought you, he would come to his house and enter his room with a full tent in between his thighs. He would pull out of the back of his closet his fleshlight and spray one of his pillows with those little bottles of your perfume that came as gifts with the bigger version just to bend his other one and push the fleshlight in it, fully lubed and ready for his cock to fuck into, just like that pretty pussy of yours. And that’s what he’d do, fuck his stupid little toy with his face fully buried on the perfumed one as he imagined you under him, ass up and chest pushed against his bedsheets. His pace was needy, harsh and deep, from his mouth, dirty talking spilling. ‘Yeah, take my cock you slut, fucking take it.’ ‘That’s a good girl for daddy.’ Those were always the best orgasms, making him fill the toy to the brim when he couldn’t found himself to stop. Too pussy drunk even when it wasn’t your pussy what he fucked in between whimpers.
He sometimes would leave his house’s and bedroom door open with the dream of you someday catching him red handed.
But they were all just dreams, they weren’t supposed to fucking happen in real life. Yet, there he was, and so were you.
That day he had come with a really painful bonner in between his thighs. You’d been sitting on his lap for a whole goddamn hour since your classmates from class B had borrowed most of your chairs to hang prom signals, leaving you without a place to sit and using your best friend as a chair. The problem was not only that, it was the fact that you’d be adjusting every five minutes and the fact that he had found himself being completely ignored by you as you talked with your best friends, laughing with them and jumping on his lap when the jokes were too good. Well, he was not being completely ignored, since one of your hands, had found his hair and slowly massaged his scalp, every now and then pulling at his hair when you played with his locks, his hands trembling on your thighs —which spread sideways across from his — thumbs circling your soft skin.
The fact that you were using him. The fact that he felt used by you and only you, was what had him gritting his teeth and fighting the urge to buckle against your ass. But Spencer was a good boy, so he just stood sit and went through that delirious torture with not a word coming out of his mouth. He felt like breathing once again when you got up from his lap when the bell rang, notifying the students that the day had ended, but still choking when he no longer could smell your cologne or felt you flush against him.
“Fuck…” he whimpered when he plopped on his bed, his palm pushing hardly against his pulsing and leaking cock, precum staining his jeans and underwear. He had pulled out from his closet his fleshlight, since he felt that his hand would not be enough today. He had to fuck himself. “Please, fuck me, please…” he was a babbling mess when his tip pushed inside the lubed toy. “Use my cock, baby… Use me…” he found himself whimpering at his mind scenario, in which you would ride him relentlessly, his dick reaching deep enough to hit that sweet spot that you’d torture to make yourself cum all over his cock. “Fuck, mommy, fuck, feels so good… Ah, faster.” he was a babbling mess, his hips rutting upwards against his hand movements to fuck his cock deeper in his toy.
“Spence!!!” you had called from downstairs as you opened his unlocked front door. Spencer always left it that way for you to come and go as you pleased. You were smiling, in between your hands a copy of a book he had been dying to read for months and for which he had cried after finding out that it had been sold out. After seeing just how badly he wanted it, you had been fighting with sharp nails to get a hold on one of the limited edition copies that had gone on sale in the city’s center, where you had rushed just as classes finished and where you had killed your savings in the dib. “I have a surprise for you!!” you chanted, locking the door behind you and jumping excitedly, frowning when you didn’t hear and answer from him. “Spencer?” you called out again, the soft sound of his voice reaching you from upstairs. You took off your shoes, a smirk growing on your lips when the idea of giving him a scare came to mind. Up the staircase, you were like a ghost, slowly approaching his room and mumbling, though you froze when a moan got to your ears. Your skin went pale and your cheeks heated up when needy whimpers followed up right after, as if all the blood under your skin had ended up pooling there.
“Fuck, just like that. Faster, please…” was he with someone? Your chest heaved at the thought of Spencer fucking with some random girl that wasn’t you. You’ve liked him for years on end, since the first time that he held you as you cried your heart out after your first breakup. But he never seemed to look at you in any other way that wasn’t friendly, so, at the end, —being too scared to speak up about your feelings in fear that it would break your friendship— you had decided to bury them as deep as you could inside you, believing that he had to be just what he was; your best friend.
Even though you knew it was wrong, you slowly approached his slightly open door, peeking in in need to see who was he fucking, promising yourself that you’d leave once you’ve taken a glance. But all that went to hell when you found out he was not fucking anyone but himself, back against the mattress, bare chest rising and lowering slowly as his hips fucked upwards, inside his clear flesh light. Your eyes widened and your legs trembled when from his lips new groans and moans fell. Spencer was fucking touching himself. Fuck, fuck, fuck… You needed to get away from there. Yeah, that’s what you’d do. You’d go back to your house and forget all about it… Or that’s what you thought, instead finding your feet glued to the floor as you watched.
He looked so hot and pretty all needy… Eyes closed shut and mouth agape in gasps, glasses crooked, eyebrows pushed together as his head fell back against his pillow, hair messy all over it. His hand was slow, pushing the toy down on his cock in deep and harsh strokes. You could almost perfectly see his long and thick dick, his thrusts making the lube’s wet sounds fill the room. “Ah, fuck…” his voice was low and so broken you felt your panties damp in your slick, you were so turned on that your free hand cupped your cunt, making you almost moan if you hadn’t bit down on your bottom lip.
Your fingers had started to push against the lace of your panties underneath your plaid skirt, freezing on your clit when a new babble came from inside the room and your best friend’s lips. “Fuck, y/n…, mommy…, please, fuck, fuck, fuck…” your eyes widened, not only because…, fuck, Spencer was fucking that goddamn fleshlight with you in mind doing so, but because he had called you mommy too. Surprisingly enough that only turned you on even more, a needy moan tearing your throat before you could push it down to your chest. Spencer’s movements stopped, his gaze moving to his opening door just to see you standing there, flushed cheeks, heavy breathing and book in hand.
He quickly pushed away the toy, cursing under his breath when he sat up, a pillow hiding his hard and leaking cock, which was twitching at the sight of your trembling legs. “Fuck, y/n, I…” he didn’t even know what to say. You had caught him, caught him fucking himself with his goddamn fleshlight, and even worse, caught him moaning your name. He felt sick to the stomach, but at the same, so turned on too. You had caught him… Finally. And who knows how much time you had been listening and peeking at him while he pleasured himself. He had to hold back a whimper at the thought of it. “How much did you hear?” he cursed when you didn’t answer, cheeks reddening and cock twitching under the pillow, leaking against his thigh.
“Mommy.” you said, making his head snap back to you, a frown on his face, eyes widening when you let the book fall from your hands as you stepped in, closer to his bed.
“W…What?” fuck.
“ ‘Mommy’. That’s what you called me.” you smirked, eyes falling to his lap when he pushed the pillow further down. “Who would think that Spencer, the Genius Spencer Reid, would be so goddamn dirty to even leave the door unlocked for anyone to see as he fucks himself. And even worse, have a mommy kink.” he stuttered as he shook his head.
“It’s not what it seems like, I…”
“You what?” you pushed, thumb and index gripping his chin so his eyes would find yours. “Are you gonna deny that you were touching yourself while thinking about me? That you were calling me mommy and whimpering for me to fuck you faster?” he moaned at your words, half-lidded eyes full of lust staring at your full and rosy lips. “Mmh? Answer me.” you ordered and he whimpered, your pussy clenching when he shook his head and cried out a ‘no’. “ ‘No’ what?” your lips brushed against his, teasing him to get out of him what you wanted.
“No, mommy.” you pulled his hair when he tried to kiss you, making him groan against your lips as you clicked your tongue. “Please…” he pleaded, hands rocking the pillow on his lap.
“Only good boys get a kiss, Spence.”
“I’m a good boy…” he was so gone that you almost laughed, so needy for pussy…
“Oh yeah?” he nodded, his tongue dampening his lips, hips thrusting upwards towards the pillow that covered his naked body. “The why don’t you show me?” he shivered when your lips latched to his neck, your tongue pressing against his skin in open mouth kisses that led to his ear. “Why don’t you show me how good you are and let me watch you fuck that pretty toy of yours, hm?” he moaned, muttering a ‘fuck’ as he nodded, making you smirk. “Then go ahead, baby, let me see.” you pulled away as he pushed the pillow off his lap, dick twitching below a pool of precum that dripped from his tip.
In the state he was… He would do anything for you. He would even fuck himself stupid if you said the word. Anything you asked, anything you wanted. Anything for you.
He moaned when you sat down on his desk’s chair, skirt rolling up and letting more of your soft and beautiful thighs show. His hands were shaking when his fingers gripped around the clear silicone or his toy, whimpering when he noticed your eyes on his twitching dick.
You had seen dicks before, but none of them was as beautiful as Spencer’s. It was big, with a great large and just the perfect girth, large and thick enough to have you limping for a few days after a good fuck. And you knew he could give it to you, that he would fuck your hard and needy, deep enough to have you drooling over yourself as you came over and over again. You would love to drool and choke on it too, outline the veins on his shaft with your tongue and take him so deep on your throat you’d need to swallow when he came in your mouth. “Aw, poor Spence…” you cooed at his twitching cock, red tip and tight balls. “Caught about to cum. It must really hurt, doesn’t it baby?” he nodded, tears on his eyes due to your teasing, chest rising in heavy breaths. “Are you gonna cum on that cup for me to drink, hm? Want me to drink your cum, Spencer?” he moaned a breathy gasp, and you smirked to his reaction. He liked that.
Dirty talking. Mommy kink. Praise kink. Notes taken.
“Yes, yes, yes…” he muttered, almost begging for it. The thought of you swallowing his cum making him go crazy. He whined when his leaking tip brushed against the artificial hole, his lip being tortured by his teeth when you parted your thighs, panties exposed and damped lace for him to see. “Fuck…” he cursed, bottoming out into the wetness of the fleshlight in a deep and large stroke, almost cumming at the sight. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” your hands came down your body, your left resting on your breasts— hard nipples pushing against your shirt, which you pulled and pinched in between your fingers— and your right sneaking in between your thighs and below your underwear, whining when you felt just how wet you were. “Shit, y/n.”
His dick was twitching like crazy with every new and fast thrust of his hips, pleads falling of his lips. ‘I need you. Need you so bad…’ ‘Please mommy…’ ‘I’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum…’
“Oh yeah? You gonna cum?” You clicked your tongue when he nodded, chuckling at his behavior. “Look at how pathetic you look.” he whimpered when you had made your way back to his side, standing in front of him and making his head fall backwards when you harshly pulled on his hair, making his hips stutter and breathy whines rip his throat. “Hold it. I haven’t even told you where to cum yet.” he cried when you pushed down your thighs your panties. “Fuck, you are too fucking loud.” you said and he had to squeeze his dick to not come when you pushed your damped panties into his mouth, slicked crotch flat against his tongue. His muffled begging only made your pussy wetter, his eyes full of tears that seemed about to fall when he could take a taste on just how sweet you were. He choked on the lace when you startled his legs. His eyes fell just as your free hand did, straight to your core, where your fingers dug on your wet folds and parted them for him to see thin strips of slick connect them and just how swollen your little pink bud was, hidden under its hood. “Here. Cum on my pussy.” you said, leaning on the skin of his neck to suck a hard hickey on his flesh.
You didn’t even had to say it twice, his hand quickly throwing away the fleshlight to cum all over your folds and clit, muffled groans and moans filling the room when his white and heavy gropes painted your core in white, his mind all foggy and pussy drunk just by the simple contact of your cunt on his tip. You hummed as you stroked his hair, open mouth kisses being splattered across his chest. He was still fucking hard. “Good boy…” you cooed, loving just how fucked out he seemed, moaning when you sat on his cock, his length in between your wet folds and his tip bumping against your clit.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck….” he cried out with your panties on his mouth when you rocked your hips against his. That’s all it took for him to cum for a second time, right after his first orgasm.
You moaned, feeling his dick twitch and nails dig on your ass, your pussy sliding too easy due to the amount of his cum that coated it. “You came again, baby?” he nodded, his cock quickly getting hard again to your humping. “Fuck, Spencer…” you pulled your panties away from his mouth, wanting to hear his groans. “Look at you, making a mess of my cunt.”
“Fuck, y/n…” your name sounded so wonderful falling from his lips… “Please, can I… Can I clean it for you? Let me clean it for you, pleasepleaseplease. I’ll make you feel good, I promise, I’ll be good…” you pulled his bottom lip with your thumb, warm skin under your fingertips. “I promise. I promise mommy…” your thumb brushed your own lips when he leaned in, pupils blown and need on his hazel thin irises. He looked high. And he was, high on his favorite drug: you.
You nodded, giving in, and gasped when he had your back pressed against the mattress in just a matter of seconds, lips all over the skin of your neck and exposed collarbones, his hands leaving your hips to bump against the bottom of your tank top, fingers so desperate to see your tits that dug too hard on the piece of clothing enough to tear it up. You moaned when you felt the fabric give out, his hands cupping your exposed breast and biting hickeys on its flesh in between groans, muttering a ‘The prettiest tits I’ve ever seen, fuck.’. You were tugging on his hair as he played with your tits, biting your nipples and teasing you for a couple of minutes before slowly lowering his lips further down on your stomach, bumping with your skirt, which he quickly discarded it away on his bedroom floor. He pulled away to look to your fully naked body, hair messily spread on his pillow —the same he had fucked multiple times while thinking about you—, lips swollen due to constant biting, half-lidded eyes and flushed skin. He moaned, dick twitching, ‘cause you were so goddamn perfect. Perfect for him.
He didn’t waste time in parting your thighs —which he took his time with, and of course he would, he had been dreaming about making them bleed for years now—, leaving open mouth kisses and sucking hard on the skin, making you whimper and tug on his hair. “Spencer…” you whined when he bit down on your flesh, making your back arch at the incredible pleasure the pain inflicted made you feel. He was so drunk on your skin… He could spend his whole life kissing it that he would never get fucking tired of it. But his teasing was making your pussy clench and tingle. You needed his mouth on it now. And he seemed to get it when you pushed him further against it, his hands taking your now fully marked thighs to pull them above his shoulders as he sunk on the mattress, stomach flat against it and fingers gripping at your flesh. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when his tongue pushed in between your covered in cum folds, flattening in a long strip and bumping against your clit. Both of you moaned, him due to just how much he had dreamed about the taste of your pussy —which he had tasted before, but only clothed— and you to how many times you had touched yourself with his mouth in mind. His name falling off your lips on a whimper had his hips rocking against the duvet as he ate you out sweet and slow.
It was only when his fingers found their way to your entrance that he started to eat you just like you needed and he always dreamed of: rough, needy and hungry. You were screaming his name when his fingers pushed inside you, quickly fucking the shit out of you and curving to hit your g spot as his tongue circled your clit. Spencer knew how to use it, really well. So well that he had you tipping the edge in less than ten minutes. He was like a starved man, burying his face in between your thighs unable to get enough of you and your sweet taste, of the mix of the two of you in his tongue. “Fuck, Spencer, I…” you babbled, thighs twitching as you pulled harder on his hair. He knew you were close by how moans fell of those pretty lips of yours over and over again. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum…” you cried out, Spencer crushing your sweet spot with every harsh thrust of his fingers.
He moaned, begging for it. “Please cum on my mouth, mommy. Please, let me have it, please mommy, please…” you whined when his tongue gave just one last stroke to your clit, dissolving in the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had, whimpers against your cunt as Spencer drank every last drop of it all, helping you ride out your orgasm as your sweet moans filled his bedroom.
You mewled when once you’ve come down from your high, his tongue licking you clean as hips rutted on his wet sheets, seconds away from coming when you called from him. He whimpered when you tugged on his hair, pulling him away from your pussy as you sat up. He looked completely gone. Half-lidded eyes unfocused, messy hair due to your tugging, swollen lips and wet chin. “Please, just a little bit more, mommy…” he begged, needing to go back in between your thighs. Needing to taste you and make you cum again on his mouth. “Please, I need it…” your eyes fell to his twitching and leaking cock, and then, to the dampness of the sheets where he had been rocking against. You clicked your tongue as you took him in your hand, making him gasp.
“I’ll let you choose where to cum next, Spencer.” you said, your other hand coming to his cheek to rub the flush on his skin. “I could let you eat me out again and let you cum all over the sheets all by yourself…” his balls tightened to the thought of it, feeling cold when the hand that cupped his face left him to fall in between your thighs, spreading you open for him to see. “Or you could cum inside of me.” his eyes rolled to the back of his head, hips thrusting into your hand in anticipation. “What do you say, Spence? Where do you want to cum, baby?” he was almost hyperventilating, whimpers falling of his lips as he leaned on you, eyes on your own.
“Inside.” he found himself to mutter, unable to think, not when you were offering him the chance to fuck you raw and fill you up. Just the thought of it had him reeling.
“Oh yeah?” you whispered against his lips, him nodding slightly, bewitched by your minty breath connecting with his own. “You wanna cum inside, hm? Gonna let me use your cock too?” you gave him a sweet smile when he moaned, furiously nodding. Leaving a little peck on the corner of his mouth, you fell backwards on your back once again. “Then come here, Spence.” he was fast to top you, your thighs parting to receive him there, hands on his neck when he leaned in, eyes asking for permission to kiss you, which he didn’t even need since you were now entering your tongue in his mouth, making him groan. Fuck, he could come just with that. With your tongue on his mouth, your body against him and the thought that you were only letting him fuck you to seek your own release. He moaned on your open mouth when you took his dick to align it with your entrance, which twitched at the feeling of his tip. You needed him, and you needed him now. “Fuck, baby, please fuck me Spencer, please, please…” you whimpered, and he didn’t wait to push inside in a deep and fast stroke. You both moaned, foreheads against the other’s as he bottomed out.
“Fuck, so tight, mommy, so tight… Shit. I’m gonna cum.” your head had fallen backwards in gasps, giving him full access to your neck, which he kissed and sucked, leaving new marks. He was so big you felt like splitting in half, but not in a painful way. His stretch had you delirious, his tip brushing against that sweet spot that would make you come in a matter of seconds. Your nails dug on the skin of his back, making him groan. The two of you were taking your time, him getting used to the feeling of your tight and warm walls trying to milk his twitching dick and you to the feeling of his heavy and big cock sitting inside your wet cunt, spreading you to edges you’d only dreamed of getting to. He groaned against your neck when you started to unconsciously rock against him. “Please y/n, can I fuck you now? Let me fuck you mommy, please? I need to… I need to…”
“Go ahead, baby. Be a good boy for me and let me use your cock, alright?” he whimpered at your words, and in less than one second he had you gripping to his back for dear life and losing yourself in between moans. “Oh fuck, yeah Spencer, just like that baby, shit, fuck me, fuck me…”
He was just feral. Thrusting in you with just cumming in mind. His hips were pushing against yours in a hurry, hitting that spot inside of you that had you whimpering as you thrusted yourself on his cock, just as desperate as him. He was too pussy drunk to even kiss you straight, spit dripping down your chin at the messy made out. “Fuck, y/n, mommy, shit, so good, feels so good, fuck, I love it, love your pussy, ah shit, love you mommy, loveyouloveyouloveyou…” he was a mess. Both of you were. His thrusts had you drooling on the pillow, back arched and eyes squeezed shut, too lost in the pleasure, in him. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release with every new deep and harsh thrust, making your nails dig up on his back, probably leaving marks.
“Fuck, Spencer, fuck, I’m close, shit, I’m gonna cum…” you whimpered on his ear, making him fuck you harder.
“Cum on my cock, mommy, please, please… Use me. Use me…” he begged, and then you could only feel yourself cumming over and over again. It was all too much, but too good at the same time. So good that had your soaked cunt gushing all over his dick as he fucked you dumb, his hands pulling on your nipples and teeth digging so hard on your neck that draw blood. You were seeing fucking stars in the ceiling.
The only thing that you seemed able to coherently form was his name, which you chanted like you sang your favorite summer song. “Spencer, Spencer, Spencer…”
“Shit, Imma cum, I’m cumming so fucking hard… Gonna fill your pussy mommy, gonna…, fuck!” his thrusts became sloppier. “Im gonna cum, i’mcummingi’mcummingi’mcumming.”hips thrusted one, two, three more times before his dick twitched inside of you, filling you so full you choked on air, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when some of it spilled out. He was whimpering ‘mommy’ over and over again in between cries against your neck, thick gropes of cum painting your insides in the purest white.
“Shit, fuck, Spencer. So good…” you moaned, rolling your hips at the feeling of fullness. You were fucked out, brain dead on the cock that had just gave the best sex of your life. You were trying really hard to come down from your high and calm down your breathing. “Spencer!” Though you really couldn’t even do that, since you found your head being hardly pushed against his pillows and back arched with your chest against the duvet when he pulled you up from your ass, his newly hard cock ramming inside of your full of cum pussy. You cried out when his hand came down on one of your cheeks in a hard spank that had you whimpering.
“You didn’t think I was done with you, were you, ‘mommy’?” you could hear the teasing in his voice. “I’m sure you really enjoyed having your way with me, didn’t you?” you couldn’t really comprehend how his mentality had switched so drastically fast, but you were no one to whine about it. If a submissive Spencer had you cumming so hard on his cock, how would a dominant fuck you out? You felt your pussy clench around his dick in anticipation. “Well, I hope you did, ‘cause now is my fucking turn.”
-
i needed to.
#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#perv! spencer reid#spencer reid x oc#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid criminal minds#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid x plus size reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fanfiction#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x fem!readr#criminal minds x you#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#spencer reid cm#cm
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sevika, grayson and ambessa cuddling hcs 🥹🥹 i love them
Cuddling the butches -`✮´-
thank you for the ask, anon. heres some sevika , grayson , and ambessa because the last fic a while ago got a lot of love (rightfully so) <3 !!!
more of them , masterlist
Ambessa loves being the big spoon, pressed up behind you with one of her thick arms under your head, the other grabbing at your torso.
It's calming for you both when you trace over the scars on her arm under your head, leaving small kisses trailing after your fingers. She shows her appreciation by returning the favor and running her hands under your shirt to trail up your stomach.
If you grew ticklish at your touch, she would reluctantly stop, punctuating her actions with a kiss to the shell of your ear.
Sometimes, you would roll over to lay on her chest, her back now against the bed and her arm over your shoulders.
This way, she could see your face and admire your features with a smirk. Loving the way you look up at her with sleepy eyes and a smile gracing your lips.
Her chest was thick and comfortable to lay on, hearing her heavy heartbeat in your ear. This was one of your favorite sounds, and did its job at lulling you to sleep.
These were just your activities before you fell asleep, but once you do thats when the fun begins..
She was unusually hot when she slept (not just temperature wise). Sometimes, you'd have to throw the blankets off you both in the middle of the night just for some freedom.
And the fact that she is as close as possible to you doesn't help either. But on cold nights, you appreciated it, snuggling your face closer into her arms to feel the heat.
Her snores were deep and loud. That woman is always in a deep DEEP sleep. Sometimes, it woke you up, but you didn't mind. It just gave you more time to relish being in her arms.
Sevika is just a big softie, she wont admit it in words, but she loves being little spoon.
You definitely have to stretch your limbs a bit to wrap around her frame, but it's okay. it's for her. Usually, you can wrap your legs around her waist and hold her shoulders. She feels safe.
Sometimes she will turn around and put her face in your chest so that she doesnt have to face the world (just your tits).
She likes to inhale your scent and hear your heartbeat, and it makes it easier for you to stroke her hair and hum to her.
In that position she has her thick arm wrapped around your waist, holding you to the bed. (God knows she only needs one thats why she was nerfed)
She doesn't wear her mechanical arm to bed most of the time in fear of hurting you or crushing you with it.
But sometimes she will be lazy and just throw a pillow around her metal arm so that she can hold you still.
If you had a bad day, she insists you lay in her lap, face in her stomach while she smokes a cigarillo.
To add to that, have you seen her thighs? You fall asleep instantly due to comfort. And shes not complaining.
And if you are really sleepy, she will carry you around the house with one arm whilst doing her daily tasks. (Have you seen her wrangle isha with one arm?)
If she needs to step away for a second, she sits you on the counter, leaving you to huff at her absence before immediately picking you back up again.
Grayson is definitely the type of person to like the weight of someone's body on top of hers.
Just lay on her, legs on both sides of her hips and arms around her neck. She doesn't need a weighted blanket while you're sleeping over.
It's also easy to plant kisses on her neck and jaw, soothing her to sleep.
She also has a bunch of pillows, and you both wake up with them all over the floor (you might also be on the floor)
She is tossing in turning in her sleep every night. She was born this way, and if you do it too then you might be kick boxing eachother in your sleep.
Also, she will let you sit on her back while she lies on her stomach, pressing at her tense muscles and running your fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck.
When you are having a hard time falling asleep, she will soothe you with her husky/gravelly voice right in your ear. You can feel her hot breath on the side of your face while she whispers sweet nothings to you.
I know she's a dream to wake up to, her hair sprawled out all over the pillow and skin illuminated by the sun rise (NEED THAT).
When you wear her clothes to sleep, beware because you might not be sleeping for the next hour (that probably goes for everyone on this list..)
And her gun is always at her bedside. She is strapped and ready to protect you.
i know i said im on hiatus but shh...im posting drafts... i swear
#sevika#grayson#ambessa#ambessa x reader#sevika x reader#grayson x reader#arcane sevika#arcane ambessa#arcane grayson#grayson arcane#ambessa arcane#sevika arcane#ambessa medarda#arcane#sevika arcane x reader#arcane netflix#lesbian#wlw#cuddles#hcs#cuddle hcs#gimmie dat#arcane s 2#arcane 2 1#arcane s 1#arcane act 2#act 1#arcane act 3 season 2#arcane act 3#arcane season 2 act 3
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sweet sweet baby (since you've been gone)
harry castillo x reader
series
warnings: no y/n, 28 year age gap, female reader.
The last time he had gone up to a woman was at a wedding reception and it ended terribly for him.
Lucy was her name.
He had thought she was the one. All the time they had spent together, all the nights he held her, it was all for nothing. In the end he was the one left behind while she and that broke fucking waiter—oh how much he hated that broke waiter with a fucking passion—ran off into the sunset all happily.
John.
John was his name. Living in a rundown studio apartment with a struggling college student as a roommate. Yeah, what a fucking life she decided to choose.
He still follows her on Instagram.
An Instagram she begged for him to have. He valued his privacy. Being a successful CEO had its perks but it also had his downsides. Privacy was a major downside. He's lucky if a week has gone by without The New York Times calling his office.
Something he should've done a long time ago was delete Instagram and move on from Lucy, but of course he loves to make things more difficult for himself.
19lucy89 has posted a photo!
He should've at least turn off the notifications notifying him of her posting but he couldn't do it. He still wasn't over her. Scrolling on the social media app had him scoffing.
She had posted a photo of her and that broke waiter kissing.
"Whiskey neat."
Harry slips his phone back into his pocket, thanking the bartender. Sliding off the barstool, he glances at all the couples around him. He rolls his eyes.
Since when is everyone fucking dating? Everywhere he goes it's always a couple canoodling. It pisses him off.
Getting back to his table, Danny slaps Harry on his back as he sits down. He cringes as the hand hits his back. He's always had back problems but never acknowledged them.
Not until Lucy. She made him start seeing a chiropractor.
But since she's out of his life, he has been ignoring his pains and ignoring his chiropractor’s calls. She didn't care anymore so why should he.
"Dude Vanessa and everybody are going to an afterparty—"
"Is this not an afterparty?" Harry furrows his brows, interrupting his partygoer friend.
Danny shakes his head playfully, scoffing. "Any excuse to continue drinking, am I right?"
He really didn't want to spend another hour at a party. He's 54 for god's sake, he done.
He's old. He's an old man.
He gets cranky if he doesn't go to sleep at a certain time, he gets aggravated when he pushes paperwork aside leaving it to the last minute, he hated pleasing his friends who have been trying to get him out more ever since the whole Lucy thing happened.
He's leaving, he wants to go home.
"I think I'll be heading—" Then his phone vibrating in his coat pocket stops him.
Maybe Lucy texted him?
Fuck he's so delusional.
"Actually I'm gonna head out. I have a lot of paperwork." Harry stands up, pulling out his phone.
Danny furrows his brows at his friend.
"But you didn't even touch your drink?"
Harry tells him he has liquor at his place, he can finish his drink at home, not here. He doesn't bother to say any goodbyes to any of his friends. They won't remember it anyways.
He hurriedly swipes open his phone as the cold air hits his face.
19lucy89 has added onto their stories!
Clicking onto her profile made him sick.
He should have deleted Instagram.
He should have blocked her.
But he wasn't strong enough.
She posted a video.
Though it wasn't just any other video. The video showed John on his left knee holding up a ring.
He was fucking proposing.
It was like his whole world came tumbling down.
He had never felt this sick in his life.
Harry used to hate the way rich people would talk about money. They used to say money isn't everything, how it doesn't solve anything and it isn't happiness.
He begged to differ.
He didn't grow up with much. His mother struggled especially.
She was sick and wasn't financially stable for treatment so she died.
He used to think that if they had money she would still be here.
He never told anyone about it. Never spoke about the situation, he always tried to ignore it. Until Lucy came around.
She was the only person he confided in. He cried in her arms.
He didn't understand how she could just leave so easily. He remembers the night she told him, they were in the kitchen when she spoke the truth about how she was still in love with John.
She had said that he was the one that got away and that they needed each other.
She packed up her clothes and left his penthouse.
And that was it.
And now he’s standing outside The Met at 54 years old, pathetically hung up on a woman who left him for some broke waiter in a studio apartment that probably has one fucking bathroom.
A couple bumping into him made him come back to earth. He mutters an apology for blocking the entrance.
Another fucking couple.
He shoves his phone into his pocket with too much force, rolling his shoulders as he takes the steps two at a time, the cold air biting against his skin.
Only Vanessa Garnier would throw a goddamn dinner party at The Met.
He needs to go home.
Needs to drink.
Needs to pretend he didn’t just witness the woman he once loved agreeing to marry a broke fucking waiter.
Harry is already pissed off as he stomps down the Met steps. He’s just trying to leave this godforsaken party, get home, and drown himself in whiskey while pretending he doesn’t care about Lucy’s engagement.
Then—he sees her.
She’s sitting on the steps wrapped up in her own world, scrolling her phone.
She’s alone. Not giggling into her phone like the socialites inside, not throwing herself at men with trust funds bigger than their personalities.
Just…sitting.
And for some reason, it annoys him.
"You’re in my spot."
It wasn't his spot but he was annoyed.
Maybe he was annoyed of seeing people who aren't miserable like him.
She barely looks up.
Just a quick flick of her eyes from her phone to the man standing in front of her, assessing him in a single glance before exhaling softly through her nose—unimpressed and unbothered.
That should have been the end of it.
But it wasn’t.
Since he was already irritated, already on edge, already a step away from either throwing his phone into the street or smashing it against the nearest wall—he stood there, waiting for a reaction that didn’t come.
Nothing.
No wide eyes.
No forced politeness.
No recognition.
Just a woman sitting on the steps of The Met, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, scrolling through her phone like he wasn’t even there.
His jaw ticked.
"Did you hear me?"
She sighed—actually sighed—as if he was the one disturbing her.
Well he kind of was.
Finally, she lifted her head, phone still in her hand, her gaze settling on him with all the enthusiasm of someone being asked to do a survey on the street.
"Yeah. I heard you."
His brow furrowed. He waited.
She didn’t move.
Didn’t shift.
Didn’t apologize.
Didn’t give him an inch of what he was used to—deference, nervous laughter, people scrambling to please him just because of who he was.
Instead, she blinked once slow and deliberate before tilting her head slightly to the side.
"Pretty sure the city owns these steps."
Harry clenched his teeth.
Of course.
Of course, he’d have to deal with this tonight.
This was not his night.
This was not his fucking night.
He didn’t even know why he was still standing there, why he hadn’t just turned and left. He should be in his car by now, should be halfway home with a drink already in his hand.
But for some reason he wasn’t.
For some reason he sat down instead.
A slow, deliberate movement. A shift of his coat as he lowered himself onto the step beside her, his knee brushing against the fabric of her own red coat as he exhaled sharply.
Her brow lifted slightly, her grip on her phone tightening for a moment as if she was considering whether to acknowledge his presence or simply ignore him altogether.
She settled on the latter.
Good.
Fine.
He didn’t want to talk anyway.
Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring out at the street with the same burning resentment that had been sitting in his chest since he walked out of that party.
Another fucking couple passed by.
Laughing. Whispering. Holding hands like they were the only two people in the world.
His grip tightened around his knee. His mouth pressed into a firm thin line.
He should be at home.
He should be anywhere but here.
Instead, he was sitting on the cold steps of The Met beside a stranger who didn’t care that he was Harry fucking Castillo.
He scoffed.
The sound must have been louder than he intended, because this time—she looked at him.
Actually looked at him.
Not just a glance. Not just a flicker of vague recognition before returning to her phone.
No—she studied him, just for a second.
And then…the corner of her mouth twitched.
Not a smile. Not exactly. But close enough.
Close enough for something inside of him to tighten, for his stomach to knot in that irritating way he didn’t like.
She turned back to her phone.
"Rough night?"
He huffed out a sharp breath, shaking his head adjusting his tie even though it wasn’t loose.
"Something like that."
She hummed. Hummed. Like she wasn’t even surprised.
Like she already knew that about him.
Like she had already figured him out.
His teeth clenched.
She didn’t know him.
She didn’t know anything about him.
"What?" His voice was sharper than intended.
She barely reacted. Just tapped her thumb against her screen, scrolling absentmindedly before murmuring
"Nothing."
But it wasn’t nothing.
It was something.
It was definitely fucking something.
Harry exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his exhaustion settle deeper into his bones.
This night was never going to end, was it?
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
The sounds of the city hummed around them. Car horns. Distant conversations. The occasional roar of an engine as someone sped down Fifth Avenue.
And then—
"You gonna sit here all night?"
Harry turned his head slightly, catching the amused glint in her eyes as she finally looked at him again.
"Depends," he muttered. "You gonna move?"
She smirked. "Nope."
He exhaled.
Rolled his shoulders.
Ignored the way something unsettled was shifting in his chest.
"Guess I’m staying, then."
And for the first time in a long time—he didn’t mind.
That realization alone should have pissed him off. Should have made him get up, adjust his coat, and leave like he had originally planned.
But he stayed.
The cold air pressed against his skin, sneaking beneath his collar, curling around his fingers where they rested against his knee. The whiskey from earlier still burned slightly in the back of his throat, though it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, to settle the restless storm churning inside his chest.
The silence stretched.
Not an uncomfortable one, surprisingly. But an unfamiliar one.
People didn’t let silence sit with him. They filled it, rushed to fix it, scrambled to find something clever or charming or useful to say because people who sat next to him were always trying to get something from him.
The woman sitting next to him, scrolling through her phone like he wasn’t even there. Like he was just another insignificant part of the city.
That part should have pissed him off.
But it didn’t.
It intrigued him.
He tilted his head slightly, just enough to catch the faint reflection of her screen. Not because he cared what she was looking at—he didn’t—but because he needed a distraction. Any distraction.
A taxi app.
She was waiting for a ride.
She was leaving.
Good.
Great.
That meant he wouldn’t have to sit here much longer, wouldn’t have to keep pretending like this wasn’t some strange, unexplainable moment in his otherwise predictable night.
He could go home, pour himself a drink, scroll through Lucy’s Instagram like a fucking idiot, and pretend he wasn’t still furious.
But—
He didn’t want her to leave.
Not yet.
Not before he figured out why the hell he was still sitting here.
Not before he figured out why she wasn’t miserable like him.
His gaze flicked to her hands, the way she tapped at her screen absentmindedly like she wasn’t in a hurry, wasn’t anxious about the time, wasn’t dreading the ride home.
He wanted to ask where she was going.
He didn’t.
Instead, he spoke before he thought.
"Where do you live?"
She didn’t react at first.
Just kept scrolling.
Then without looking up.
"That’s a weird thing to ask a stranger."
Harry exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly.
"You’re waiting for a cab."
Finally, she turned to him, brow raised. "And?"
He rolled his shoulders, voice even. "I’ll take you home."
A beat of silence.
Then—
She laughed.
Not a giggle. Not a polite chuckle. A real, unfiltered laugh.
Like he’d just told the funniest joke in the world.
Harry’s expression did not change.
"I wasn’t joking."
That just made her laugh harder.
She shook her head, lips twitching as she locked her phone and slid it into her pocket, finally—finally—giving him her full attention.
"You, a man who I met ten minutes ago, are offering to take me home."
Harry blinked, unfazed.
"Yes."
"In your car?"
"Yes."
She exhaled, shaking her head again.
"This is the part where I ask if you're a serial killer."
He smirked, dry and humorless. "Would a serial killer offer?"
"Maybe a dumb one."
He scoffed. "Do I look dumb to you?"
She considered him for a moment. Then—
"A little bit."
Harry almost smiled.
Almost.
Instead, he sighed adjusting the sleeve of his coat as he stared out at the street again.
"Look, I don’t care where you live. I don’t care what you do. And I don’t care if you take the cab or not. But it’s late and I have a driver waiting." He paused. "Take the ride. Or don’t."
She studied him for a moment.
Not like the people at the party, not like the women who assessed him as a prize, a trophy, a walking investment.
No, she was studying him like she was still trying to figure out if he was serious.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why offer?"
Harry clenched his jaw.
Good question.
Why had he?
Because he was restless.
Because he didn’t want to be alone.
Because he wasn’t ready for the night to end.
But he didn’t say any of that.
Instead he said, "Because I can."
She hummed at that, something unreadable passing over her face.
Then to his absolute fucking surprise
She stood.
Pulled her coat tighter around herself.
Looked down at him with a grin.
"Lead the way, then."
The Maybach was parked at the curb, sleek and expensive and definitely out of place for a random stranger sitting on museum steps.
His driver, James barely batted an eye when Harry pulled open the door and gestured for her to get in first.
She hesitated.
Just for a moment.
And then—
She slid into the seat like she did this every day.
Harry followed, closing the door behind them.
James glanced at him through the rearview mirror, silent, waiting.
Harry exhaled, glancing at her.
"Where to?"
She gave him a look.
"Aren't you supposed to be a gentleman and ask for my name first?"
He huffed. "You never asked for mine."
"Because I don’t care."
His lips twitched. "Then why get in the car?"
She leaned back against the leather seat, legs crossed, gaze flicking out the window.
"Because I wanted to see if you'd actually do it."
Harry shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he gave James the silent cue to start driving.
This was insane.
He should have just gone home.
Should have just let her take the damn cab.
But now—he was in a car with a woman who didn’t care who he was, nor his money, didn’t even seem remotely fazed by the fact that she was sitting in a million dollar car with a man who could buy out half the city.
And for the first time all night...
Lucy’s engagement didn’t feel like the worst thing that had happened to him.
The car pulled away from the curb, merging smoothly into the flow of late night Manhattan traffic. The soft hum of the engine filled the space between them, a quiet luxury that most people would have fawned over.
But not her.
She wasn’t running her fingers over the leather seats, wasn’t sneaking glances at him, wasn’t pretending to be indifferent while stealing curious looks.
She just stared out the window, completely at ease.
Harry tilted his head slightly, studying her side profile.
"You still haven’t told me where you live."
She blinked, turning back to him, almost as if she’d forgotten he was even there.
"Oh. Right." She exhaled, stretching her arms slightly before dropping them into her lap. "I’ll just have your driver drop me off at the corner of—"
"Not James." His voice was firm, sharp in a way he didn’t expect.
She raised a brow.
"What?"
"Tell me."
A slow smirk curled at her lips, amusement flickering in her gaze.
"Are you always this controlling?"
"Are you always this difficult?"
Her smirk widened slightly, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she turned to the front of the car.
"Excuse me, take me to—"
"Don’t talk to my driver."
She whipped her head back to him, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"
"He’s not your driver."
She let out a small, sharp laugh, shaking her head.
"You’re serious?"
"Very."
She rolled her eyes, but there was something else there, something interested.
She sighed, crossing her arms, "Fine. Since you clearly need to be the one in control, Lower East Side."
He barely nodded before shifting his gaze back toward the front.
James, wordlessly, made a turn.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Harry leaned back against his seat, stretching out his legs, exhaling slowly as the tension from earlier in the night settled into something quieter.
The city moved past them in streaks of light, taxis cutting through traffic, pedestrians still wandering the streets like the night would never end.
She stayed turned toward the window, her fingers mindlessly tapping against her knee.
The silence should have been comfortable.
But it wasn’t.
Not for him.
Because he was still thinking.
Thinking about Lucy. Thinking about how stupid he felt for still checking her Instagram. Thinking about how much he hated the feeling of losing.
But also—thinking about her.
This woman.
This stranger who got into his car without a second thought, who didn’t care about his money, who didn’t care about him.
That part was what unsettled him the most.
Because he was used to being recognized. Used to being admired, envied, feared.
But she?
She was just here.
Like he was just another man.
Like he wasn’t anything at all.
And for some reason—he wasn’t sure he hated that.
She broke the silence first. "So, what’s your deal?"
Harry exhaled, rolling his head to the side slightly.
"My deal?"
"Yeah." She waved a hand vaguely. "You seem miserable."
"You say that like it’s an observation."
"It is."
He scoffed, shaking his head. "Maybe I just don’t like parties."
"Nope."
He arched a brow.
"No?"
"Not just parties. Life."
Harry’s jaw tightened. "Bold assumption."
"Accurate assumption."
His gaze flicked toward her, sharp, assessing.
She met it without hesitation.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then she shrugged.
"Look, I don’t know what rich guy problems you have but you were sitting on those steps like someone had either ruined your life or just rejected your marriage proposal."
Harry stilled.
His fingers twitched slightly against his knee, his pulse slow, heavy.
She didn’t know how close she was.
How dangerously fucking close.
She didn’t know about Lucy. About the proposal he never got to make. About much time he spent believing he was enough only to realize that he wasn’t.
She didn’t know anything.
But she still saw right through him.
And that?
That pissed him off.
"Maybe I just wanted some fresh air." His voice was clipped, sharp.
"Sure." She smirked, looking out the window again. "And maybe I’m a billionaire, too."
Harry inhaled, slow and deep, rolling his head back against the seat, eyes flickering up toward the roof of the car.
"You’re insufferable."
"So I’ve been told."
For a moment, it was quiet again.
Then—
"Was it a girl?"
His brow furrowed.
"What?"
"The reason you were brooding." She tilted her head slightly. "Was it a girl?"
His fingers clenched.
She smirked.
"It was, wasn’t it?"
He clenched his jaw.
"Not everything is about a woman."
"I never said it was." She lifted a shoulder. "You just confirmed it, though."
Harry exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face.
This was insane.
She was insane.
Why was he even still talking to her?
Why hadn’t he just dropped her off and left?
"I don’t do small talk." His voice was firm.
"Good. Me neither."
Then—silence.
Not uncomfortable.
Not forced.
Just…there.
The car slowed as they reached her street.
She shifted slightly, sitting up, unfastening her seatbelt as James pulled over.
For a second, Harry felt something strange.
Something he didn’t want to name.
She reached for the door handle, but before she could push it open—
"Wait."
She paused.
Glanced back at him. Brows lifted, waiting.
Harry swallowed.
"Let me take you to dinner."
Silence.
Her head tilted, lips curving up at the corners. "Are you asking or telling?"
"Does it matter?"
She smirked.
"I guess not."
She pushed the door open, stepping out into the cold.
Harry watched her go, watched as she turned, hands stuffed into her pockets, eyes unreadable as she met his gaze one last time.
Then—
"If you find me again, maybe I’ll say yes."
And just like that—
She was gone.
Harry sat there for a long moment.
Watched the empty space where she had been.
Felt the quiet weight of something new settle over him.
And for the first time in years, he found himself hoping—
That he’d see her again.
And knowing, somehow—
That he would.
#harry castillo#harry castillo x reader#materialists#materialists fanfic#harry castillo x you#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#joel miller x reader#joel miller writing#joel miller x y/n#joel tlou#pedro pascal fandom#the materialists#the materialists fanfic
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desperate people find faith
summary: your first mission ends with you in Jean's lab and a very worried Logan who's had trouble leaving your side wc: 2.0k a/n: thank you thank you so much for all of your very positive feedback on the previous fics with these two!!! I am really looking forward to writing more for them, so please feel free to send any requests for them my way, or Logan requests in general! And yes, the title is from a Taylor Swift song again. Lots of hurt/comfort in this one, talks of mushy gushy feelings, very worried Logan find the previous part here! all empath!reader fics here!
You took the cold table underneath you as a sign that something had gone wrong. You peaked one eye open before quickly squeezing it closed, the bright florescent lights too much to handle. You took a beat, trying to make sense of your surroundings.
You remembered the jet landing in what seemed like the middle of nowhere, you and Jean searching an abandoned building looking for the young mutant that Charles had promised would be there and coming up empty. The two of you had made your way back to the jet and.. shit. The kid had freaked, and you distinctly remember taking enough damage to warrant a swift retreat back to the school. You must be downstairs, in Jean’s lab. It’s probably a bad sign that the first thing you worry about how much shit Logan is going to give you for this.
You reached out with your power, too cautious of the lights (and the judgment of the rest of the team) to look with your eyes. A few people were mildly worried just across the room, but it was hard not to be distracted by the huge amounts of anger and exhaustion on your left. You debated facing him head on, being a grown up about it and fessing up to the fact that you were wrong. Thankfully, you could be immature when the situation called for it. You attempted to even out your breathing and smooth out the crease between your eyebrows, anything that could give you away.
“Sweetheart?” Logan’s voice is so much softer than you were expecting, based on the waves of pure fury currently radiating off of him.
You shush him, blinking one eye open. “I’m sleeping.” You whisper, letting your eye fall shut again.
You felt his hand gently brush over the top of your head. His voice is closer, air tickling your ear as he leans down beside you. “Been sleeping for three days, bub. Need you to wake up now.”
You turn your head to the side and are treated to Logan dropping a small kiss on your forehead. You can’t help but smile at the affection, eyes half open against the bright lights. After a few moments, they dim. Jean takes her place on the other side of the table, lab coat on and stethoscope in hand. You expected her to shoo Logan away in the name of a more thorough analysis but she doesn’t even attempt it.
Logan’s hand finds your own, gripping tight enough to be just short of uncomfortable. Jean makes quick work of taking your diagnostics, and gently informs you that besides feeling fatigued, you are just fine.
That can’t be right.
You know that you caught the brunt of the impact, it was beginning to come back to you. The young mutant had lashed out, and before you’d had the chance to get close, he’d sent a car flying towards you and Jean. She’d managed to counteract it with her own mutation, firmly shoving you out of the way. But she hadn’t been fast enough to catch the small metal spikes he’d also thrown. There was no way you should be ‘just fine’ by now.
Either Jean was in your head or the confusion was showing clearly on your face. She gave you a tight smile, eyes darting between you and the door. She took a few steps back, clearly intent of making her exit. “Jean, wait, there’s no way-”
She gave you her please stop talking smile. “I think it’s best if this comes from him,” she nodded at Logan, placing her stethoscope and clipboard on the side table. “I’ll be back in a bit to do one final check before we clear you.” She gives you another smile that didn’t meet her eyes, and then she was gone.
You began to sit up slowly, still in shock that there was little to no pain, only stiffness from being immobile for too long. “What is she talking about?” Logan huffed, supporting you with a hand on your back. “What’s going on?”
One hand made long, slow strokes up and down your spine, while the other had not loosened it’s grip on your own since you’d woken up. His eyebrows were scrunched together, the tell tale sign of his thinking face. You tried your best not to rush him, but everything about the situation was so confusing and your mind was racing. You were far too healed, and he was being far too calm for the anger that was rolling off go him, still.
“Didn’t expect me to just sit around when you came back one foot in the grave, did ya?”
“I’m sorry if me coming back banged up gave you extra work, I just don’t understand why you’re so upset with me.”
His eyes went wide, the hand on your back stilling. “I’m not mad at you, sweetheart.” The tremble in his voice almost had you convinced.
“Don’t lie to me about it,” you help up your hand, still firmly entwined with his. “I can tell.”
“I’m notmad at you, bub.” He brought the back of your hand to his lips, peppering it with kisses. “I’m mad at the little fuck who did this to you, I’m mad that they let this happen, and I’m furious with myself that I wasn’t there.”
“He’s just a kid, Logan.”
His shoulders shook with silent laughter, a stark white dancing at the edge of his emotions now. Shock. “You almost died, and your first instinct is to defend the little asshole responsible.”
You leaned forward, bumping your shoulder against his chest in warning. “I feel fine.” He nodded, taking a deep breath in through his nose while his hand not currently locked with yours resumed it’s path up and down your back. You let it go on for a few moments, appreciating the silence and the grounding effect of his touch. “Do you… wanna fill me in on why exactly that is?”
He sucked in a breath, shoulders visibly tense. “We were lucky that Hank was stopping by for a visit.” He played with your fingers, distracting himself. You tilted your head to the side, wondering why that information was important at a time like this. “When they brought you in, god there was so much blood. Jean managed to take care of a lot of it, but she didn’t know when, or uh, if you were going to wake up.” He blew out a breath, steadying himself. “You know that Hank has been asking for a long time-”
Both of your hands gripped his tightly. “Tell me you didn’t.”
Hank had been asking for ages to use some of Logan’s blood to synthesize a more advanced healing serum for the X-Men. It was rare they came back with more than bumps and bruises, but he was a worrier and felt that Logan was the key to making something truly effective. The only problem? Logan hated needles. You’d only gotten bits and pieces from him about why, but you had a hunch that when you were alive for as long as he had been, people were willing to poke and prod for some answers. He’d never admit it, but you had felt how terrified he was the last time he’d been down hard after a mission, and Jean had tried to give him an IV of fluids to speed up the regeneration. It hadn’t ended well, to say the least.
“I should’ve done it sooner. Seeing you like this, knowing I could have done something about it.” He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.
Cautiously, you fit yourself against him, arms tight around his neck and your chest flush with his own. You half expected him to reprimand you, to remind you that you should be careful, not to move too much. Instead, he held you tightly, the side of his face pressed against the top of your head. The two of you stayed like that for a good long while, reveling in the comfort of the other.
“I know you think that you only did it because,” you paused, steeling yourself. “Because it was me.” You can feel him trying to pull away, but you mold yourself to him even more tightly, knowing that if he really wanted to he could break away from you like it was nothing. “You’re wrong. You would have done this for anyone.”
“Except for-”
“Even for Scott.” You were quick to cut him off, unwilling to hear him being so harsh on himself.
You pulled back, just enough so that you were able to meet his eyes. You needed him to know that you are being earnest. “You are a good man, Logan. And before you even try to deny it or say I’m lying I know you can hear my heart beat. And I know you can tell when people are lying. And besides, I’ve never ever lied to you, have I?” He shakes his head slowly, one tear falling, and a few more after that. You reached up, brushing them away. He grabbed your hand, gently placing a kiss on your wrist, and then your palm.
“Y’scared me, sweetheart.” He murmured, voice muffled by your palm still against his lips. “Don’t ever do that again.”
You slide your hand to cup the side of his face, prompting him to meet your gaze. “You know I can’t guarantee that.” His eyes closed for a moment, and you knew he was doing his best not to shout. “I will always be careful, but I can’t stay back and leave the work to everyone else. If I can help, I’m gonna help.”
His eyes narrowed, the tiniest hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “Fine. But we’re getting you trained up and you aren’t going out there without me again for a good long while.”
You rolled your eyes, the both of you well aware there was no ill will behind it. “If you insist.”
“I absolutely do.” He pulled you back into his chest, keeping you there until Jean peaked her head in through the door.
“If you two are done being mushy, there are a few people who have been dying to see you.”
Ororo rushed into the room, playfully shoving Logan away to scoop you into her arms. She gently checked you over, ignoring the fact that you’d already had several medical professionals on the case. Scott clasped you on the shoulder, reassuring you that for a first mission, this was a success. You laughed before shooting Logan a look that begged him to let it pass. He huffed, but nodded all the same.
“Shocked we didn't have to keep him from trying to tear the kid apart, but he refused to leave the lab.” Scott nodded his head at Logan, who was continuing to shuffle closer to the table where you sat.
Well, you would be dutifully ignoring the latter half of Scott's quip, instead choosing to focus on the young mutant. “You mean he's?”
Scott smiled, nodding. “He’s settling in upstairs.”
You grinned, glad to know that it hadn’t all been for nothing. You fixed your gaze on Logan, narrowing your eyes at him. “Don’t even think about failing him out of history as some kind of weird revenge, I’ll know and I will find a way to get back at you for it.”
Your friends laughed around you, let you know that Charles has ordered in your favorite take out for dinner and started to filter out of the room. Eventually, you and Logan are left alone again, sitting side by side on the metal table.
“You still owe me an important conversation, ya know.” You bump your shoulder against his. You stay there, pressed against his side with your head leaning on his shoulders. His hand rests on your shoulder, holding you close.
“Maybe wait until you aren’t in a hospital gown, sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes, clearly aware that he was deflecting, but still content to take in his warmth and quiet support. You were safe, and you were home. Not just at school, but with him.
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett#wolverine#wolverine x reader#deadpool and wolverine#marvel x reader#marvel fic#Logan howlett imagine#Logan howlett fic#wolverine imagine#wolverine fic#hugh Jackman x reader#x men x reader#x men#x men fanfiction#x men fic#marvel imagine#my writing#x men comics#x men movies#hugh jackman#empath!reader
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