#so these were a nice compromise/baby step!

[blueish-bird]

there are JJK figurine blind bags I’ve been occasionally buying for myself — I’d gotten 3 out of 4 without duplicates, but considering that I had a 25% chance to get Megumi/avoid duplicates, I’d made peace with the low likelihood of completing my collection. But, when I went to buy another one today, someone had partially opened a blind bag and I could see Megumi was inside!

in conclusion: thank you whoever opened and didn’t take anything from a blind bag at my local target. my collection is complete and I’m very happy about it

All Four of Them

[sceletaflores]

it’s the easiest thing (just love me and eat me)

pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader

wc: 6.1k

anon says: nat pls speak on sub!logan...people are hating on the sub!logan agenda and someone needs to show them that they're wrong and it can be done cuz if anyone can convince them it's you mommy!

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, crimson! again! she's back!, slight angst, swearing, violence, light gore, somewhat dark content, religious symbolism? (idk this one got weird babes), established relationship, lowkey a toxic relationship but you didn't hear that from me, sub!logan-ish, handjob, p in v, slow sex turned rough, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, pain kink, scent kink, blood play, blood...eating (drinking? idk), porn with a tiny bit of plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: anon i'm so sorry this took me so long...i hope it was worth the wait! it started as a short smutty drabble that somehow turned into…this? idk it got out of hand so fast. i am a proud member of the sub!logan nation but that's mostly because i think that ALL men have the potential for sub vibes like doesn't matter who he is if i want to fuck him he's probably a little subby. special shout out to my baby boo and fellow sub!logan truther @avocado-writing <3 tysm for sharing anon! xoxo mwah.

dividers by icon @saradika-graphics!

psst! want more logan and crimson? here's the to the bone au masterlist!

it’s not often that logan needs this, but you’re always more than happy to give it to him when he does…

The team had a big scare earlier in the day.

It was supposed to be an easy mission, bust a mutant trafficking ring in Albany. You do assignments like these every week, and as sick as it sounds, it’s almost routine.

But this one was different. It was an ambush, and you were compromised.

Only humans, but they were smart. Waited until the team split up to attack. They had tech, things you'd never seen before.

Big guns loaded with tiny darts full of an ominous red liquid.

It was your fault really. You didn't clear your surroundings, so focused on getting to the kids that you let yourself get sloppy.

The tiny sting in your back barely registered, you don't think you would have even noticed if it didn't kick in so fast.

You'd never felt anything like it before in your life.

It didn't hurt. The rush of pain you braced yourself for never coming.

The sensation was strange—like your body was shutting down, piece by piece. You fell to your knees, shaky legs folding under you in less than a second.

You felt empty, wrong. An eerie silence trickling in to fill your insides.

Panic bubbled beneath your skin, but you were too numb to feel it. Trapped in the mounting weight of your limbs, the slow blink of your eyes, the shortness of breath despite hardly moving.

Your hand slipped across the gritty cement, reaching for support that wasn't there.

That was when you saw it, the shock of it was enough for your heart to drop. Your skin, blanched and sallow, the veins in your arms black and spreading like spilled ink.

You tried to fight it, tried to will your body to move, to react, to do something. You had to get up. You had to. The kids.

As hard as you willed yourself, there was nothing. It was like your body wasn't your own, like it had become something completely foreign.

You could barely make out the tiny voices calling for you. Pleading, frantic yelps of your name fading into a dull hum as everything went hazy. The edges of your vision blurring into a narrow tunnel.

He stepped in front of you, the same one who shot you. A cynical grin on his face and collar in his hand. You'd seen collars like it before, used on mutants to muzzle their abilities, to weaken them.

You tried, fingers barely twitching by your. Nothing. Just another shock of that cold, unfamiliar feeling shooting through your body.

“Got a big one, boss.” The man boasted into a comm strapped to his wrist, his voice sharp and grating. He took a single step towards you, smug grin still stretched across his face. “Yeah, real nice lookin' one too. She'll sell for—“

A muddy roar pulsed through the molasses filled haze of your ears, six claws flying through the air to embed themselves on either side of the man's skull with a wet, stomach-churning sound.

The collar dropped from his slackened grip with a dull bang, shattering into different pieces that slid across the floor haphazardly. A mess of wires and metal.

There were rushed footsteps before he dropped to his knees in front of you, his torso bathed in a dull glow from the overhead lights yellow shine.

There was blood splattered across the side of his face, slicking the front of his suit enough to reflect light off the leather.

Logan, perched in front of you like an angel.

Not one with a golden halo and a harp, but a indescribable mess of eyes and wings looming over you calling 'be not afraid'.

You'd never seen him so shaken before. All wide-eyed and pale as he checked you over for any major injuries. His breath coming in short bursts, hands frantic and shaky as they skated along your body for the viscosity of blood or uneven shift of a break.

He refused to let you even try and walk on your own, swept you off the floor and cradled your trembling body to his chest as he called for help. The beat of his heart was fast beneath your cheek, strong enough that you could feel it even through the thick leather of his suit.

You buried your face deeper in the crook of his neck, the pit in your stomach barely warmed by the feel of him. His scent is strongest there, so much so that in a room full of spilled blood, you could only smell him.

He was careless stepping over clawed up bodies littering the floor like a messy maze of twitching limbs and entrails. You didn't even know there was more than one guard in the room.

The evidence of his love for you, of his devotion, oozing red on the concrete.

Logan didn't even give the carnage a sideways glance as he raced you outside, back to the jet.

Trusting Scott and Jean to take over getting the kids out. The unsteady murmurs he pressed to the top of your head the last thing you heard before there was nothing.

You woke up six hours later.

The sterile hum of medical equipment was the first thing you heard. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled your nostrils, and the faint pressure of a needle in your arm confirmed that you were hooked up to an IV. 

Your muscles felt heavy, like someone had filled them with lead. But you were alive.

You could feel your body working overtime, fixing itself. The sickening shift of your insides falling back into place. 

It took a few more moments for you to realize you weren’t alone.

A low, familiar rumble caught your attention. You turned your head to see Logan slumped in a chair by the bedside, his face buried in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. His hair was mussed, his usually sharp features softened by exhaustion. 

He looked different, smaller, as though the weight of what happened was pressing down on him, making him fold in on himself.

You’d seen him bloody, beaten, on the verge of death, but you’d never seen him like this–completely and utterly human.

Your throat was too dry to speak, but a small sound escaped you, and Logan's head snapped up. His eyes met yours, and in a heartbeat, he was at your side, his large hands hovering over you, unsure where to touch, like he was afraid you’d shatter under his fingers.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. His voice was hoarse, cracked with a mixture of relief and something else, something deeper. His eyes darted over your face, your arms, as if memorizing every detail just to make sure you were real.

“I'm sorry,” you managed, your voice barely more than a rasp.

Logan's eyebrows furrowed, the lines in his forehead deepening. "What the hell are you apologizing for?" His voice was gruff, but there was a tenderness beneath it. A gentleness he only reserved for you.

Your lips cracked into a weak smile. "It was my fault. I messed up."

A growl rumbled low in his chest, and you could feel the anger simmering just beneath his skin, not at you but at the situation, at whoever had dared to hurt you.

“Don’t,” he said, voice like gravel. “Don't start, none of this is on you.” His voice softened slightly as he leaned closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you. “What matters is you’re here.”

The reassurance wrapped around you like a warm blanket, grounding you.

Logan’s thumb traced the line of your jaw, his touch sending a spark of warmth through your veins. “When I saw you on the floor like that…I thought—” He shook his head, jaw clenched as he forced himself to meet your gaze again. “I thought I lost you.”

Your fingers twitched slightly, managing to catch his wrist, squeezing it with what little strength you had. “I’m right here,” you said softly, voice clearer than before. “I’m okay.”

Logan’s gaze softened again as he looked down at your hand, his rough exterior cracking just a little more. He gently pried your fingers from his wrist and pressed your hand to his chest, right over his heart. “You scared the hell outta me, you know that?”

You tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a breathless huff. “Didn’t mean to.”

He shook his head, but there was a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You never do.”

You were fine an hour later. 

The color of your skin had returned, glossy and like new. The hollow emptiness inside of you long gone. Your abilities passed every test Charles threw your way with flying colors.

Fully recovered and finally excused from the med-bay after Hank and Jean checked you over one last time, you were given your strict marching orders in the form of extra fluids and bed rest, no matter how much you argued that you were fine.

Your health was the last thing on your mind, just a distant phantom ache each time your eyes would find Logan.

He was still shaken up, even after all the reassurance from Charles and Hank. He kept close the rest of the day, hovering, his presence more protective than usual, but he didn’t talk much.

You could see it in the way he moved, slower, less sure, like he was carrying around something too heavy to shake off. It lingered in the tight set of his jaw, the way his hands flexed as though still looking for something to fight, to protect you from.

It wasn’t hard to guess what it was. 

You hated seeing him like this, burdened by a guilt he didn’t deserve. 

It gnawed at you, that heaviness. The way he started to shut down, to close himself off in the face of fear. It was the only way he knew how to cope.

After seeing him like that, bed rest was the last thing on your mind.

You knew Logan. Knew what he needed when his thoughts got tangled up like this, dragging him under. He wasn't the type to sit and talk through it, not easily anyway. 

And even though you know he’d never ask for it himself, you knew what he needed—to be reminded, physically, that you were still here, still his.

Later that night, when the mansion had quieted and the others were tucked away in their rooms, you found him exactly where you thought you’d find him—in the room you shared, sitting on the edge of the bed. The yellow light from the bedside lamp cast soft shadows across his face, the tension in his jaw still there.

A frown tugged the corners of your mouth as you moved towards him, catching his attention with the rustle of the sheets as you sat next to him.

“Logan,” you say softly, breaking the stillness. He doesn't respond, only the slightest twitch in his shoulders indicating he even heard you. “Hey,” you try again, your voice a little firmer this time.

He turns his head just enough for you to catch the edge of his profile, the crease between his brows, weariness etched into his features.

But he still doesn't speak.

You shift, moving closer until your fingers brush his arm, the heat of his skin radiating through the fabric of his shirt. “Look at me,” you whisper, and finally, his gaze lifts to meet yours, guarded and pained. “I’m fine. I’m right here.”

Logan shakes his head, bringing a hand up to run it through his already messy hair. “You could’ve died,” he bites out, tone rough and low. “We should've never fuckin' split up. I should’ve been there faster, sooner. I should’ve–”

“Logan.” Your voice cut through his, sharper than you meant it to. You catch his hand in yours, thumb brushing against the pulse point of his wrist. “You saved me, I’m not going anywhere. I need you to hear that.”

He meets your gaze then, eyes dark with something vulnerable, something raw. He nods weakly, like he only half-believes it. You can still see the hesitation swirling through his eyes, the reluctance in the stiffness of his muscles against yours.

He needs something more than words, something to bring him back to you.

With that, you move to straddle his lap, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs. His body stiffens under yours, his breath hitching slightly as his hands fall to your waist almost instinctively.

“Hold on,” Logan starts, tone hesitant and hands light as they hover over your hips like he’s still scared to touch you. “You heard what Hank said–”

“I’m fine,” you repeat, finality lacing your tone and leaving no room for argument. You reach down, taking his hand in yours and bringing it up to press flat directly over your heart. The very same way he did your first night together. "Can you feel me?”

The question hangs between you, soft but weighted with purpose.

Logan’s breath catches in his throat, fingers splaying wider across your chest. The heat of his palm sinks through to your skin, lighting a fire in you. 

The steady beat of your heart under his touch is an undeniable reminder–alive, strong, with him. You can feel him relax, just a touch.

The tension in his muscles breaking down beneath you piece by piece as the rhythm grounds him, helps to pull him out of his spiral.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, barely audible. His eyes drop to where his hand rests, his thumb absently grazing the space just above your sternum. “I feel you.”

“Then trust it,” you murmur. “Trust me.”

A deep, slow breath escapes him, and something in his eyes softens just enough. You lean closer, your fingers trailing up his arms, over his shoulders, until they thread into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

You smile softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He sighs deeply, leaning into your touch like a dog starved of attention from its master. His grip on your waist finally tightens, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to feel that edge of need—the need to let go.

“You’ve been taking care of me all day,” you murmur, scratching your nails along his scalp softly. “Now let me take care of you.”

You feel him shudder, a weak groan escaping from his slack lips. His hazy eyes search your face, pupils blown out and seeping into the warm hazel color like an oil spill over a lake.

You tilt your head, lips grazing the stubble on his jawline, moving slowly, deliberately, until you can capture his mouth in a kiss.

It’s soft at first, gentle, but you feel him melt into it, the sharp edge of his restraint crumbling as he kisses you back with a kind of hunger that fuels you.

Logan’s hands slide up your back, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as you take control, deepening the kiss, coaxing him further into the moment.

His mouth is warm and wet and urgent against yours, the scrape of his teeth along your bottom lip sends a thrill down your spine. 

His lips move over yours with a reverence that makes your chest tighten, as if each slick glide of your lips together is an apology, a promise, and a plea all rolled into one.

But you don’t want his apologies. You want his surrender.

His breath stutters in his chest when your fingers twist in his hair, tugging just enough to remind him who’s in charge tonight.

When your hand finds his chest, pushing him down gently, he goes without protest. His eyes never leave yours as he settles against the pillows, following your every movement as you crawl closer.

Climbing over him to perch on top of his thighs, you waste no time in reaching for the hem of his shirt, gently tugging on it in a silent question. Logan’s breath comes in shallow puffs as he nods, fingers twitching on your hips. 

You can feel the way his chest rises and falls under the tips of your fingers, the sharp intake of air when your hands ghost across the skin of his lower stomach as you lift his shirt up and over his head.

You toss it over your shoulder carelessly, it lands with a muted thump somewhere behind you, leaving his chest bare. His muscles taut and rippling as he forces himself to stay still, the dim light plays across his skin, highlighting the contours along his torso.

You take a moment to just admire him, trailing your fingers along the familiar planes of his skin. Your touch is feather light, tracing over the spots that should be littered in scars. 

The place in his shoulder where he got shot two weeks back, or where the loose shrapnel that embedded itself in his side on the last mission should be, or the skin where his shoulder meets his neck after you dug your teeth into it hard enough to bleed a few nights ago.

The way his body responds to you makes your pulse quicken—the way he finally relaxes completely under your touch, melting into the mattress. 

You continue your path down, fingers slipping through the ridges of his abs, scratching your nails through the dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his bottoms teasingly. The muscles of his stomach jump under your touch, the power of his need thrumming beneath your touch.

You drag your hand over the hard length of him, his cock thick and hot as it twitches beneath your fingers. There’s a sharp hiss bleeding through grit teeth as his hips twitch up off the mattress ever so slightly.

You lean forward, hiding a small smirk in the crook of his neck. “Logan,” you whisper, voice dripping with intent, “I want you to beg for it.”

A deep, guttural growl rumbles through his chest. It shakes your body like thunder, finding a home between your thighs. Logan’s head falls back against the pillows, exposing the tan column of his throat to your hungry gaze.

It’s almost immediate, your reaction, your bodies reaction. The pulse of your blood starts to simmer with that telltale heat, slowly bubbling beneath your skin in anticipation.

Your gaze traces along where the vein of his jugular presses against his skin enticingly, barely suppressing a full body shiver at the sight.

You slip your index and middle finger beneath his waistband, brushing against his hard cock with barely any pressure. His hips buck up again, seeking more friction, but you pull back slightly, making him chase it.

“I said beg, Logan,” you murmur, your voice low, teasing, a sharp edge to it now. Your free hand comes up, gripping his jaw tightly, forcing him to look at you.

His eyes, dark and blown wide with lust, meet yours, and you can see the war raging inside him—the urge to dominate, to take control—but then he’s giving in to you, surrendering so beautifully.

“Goddamn,” he rasps quietly, his voice rough, broken. It’s barely a word, more of a growl torn from his throat. He bites it out, quiet and foreign sounding coming from his tongue. “Please, I need—”

“Good boy,” you purr, and finally, drag the soaked fabric of his bottoms down. His cock springs free, slapping against his stomach lewdly.

You moan softly, deftly wrapping your fist around him loosely. Logan groans, you swear you can hear his teeth grind together at the first feeling of your touch where he wants it most.

He’s scalding to the touch, velvety skin throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Rock-hard and flushed an angry red, darkening even more the closer you get to the tip.

You keep the pace of your strokes tortuously slow, letting him feel every movement, teasing him. It’s addictive, watching the way he starts to unravel beneath you at the slightest touch.

His legs kick out against the mattress minutely, hands falling from your hips to grip the sheets as hard as he can in a failing attempt to calm himself.

You lean down, slick lips brushing against his as you speak, your voice soft but commanding. “You’re going to let me do whatever I want to you tonight, aren't you?”

Logan nods, his breath coming in quick pants, his sweaty chest rising and falling rapidly. “Yes,” he chokes out, eyes brimming with need. “Fuck, do whatever you want, baby. I’m yours.”

The usual dominance he carries like a second skin has been peeled away, leaving him vulnerable, laid out beneath you, at your mercy.

Your hand speeds up, grip tightening as you twist your wrist over his leaking tip. Your knuckles shine with pre-come, slick from the gratuitous amount of wetness steadily drooling out.

“You’re being so good for me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice soft and laced with praise. “So good, letting me take care of you like this.”

His response is a loud moan, his hips arching up off the bed, but you’re quick to press them down with your free arm, your thighs tightening around him.

“Not yet,” you warn, strength on display as you stop his movements. “You’ll come when I say.”

A strangled sound escapes him, somewhere between a growl and a whimper, and it sends a thrill through you. He’s right there, teetering on the edge, but he’s holding on—for you.

“Poor thing,” you mumble, idly pressing your thumb into his slit, gathering the precome there to spread it along the flushed crown. “So hard, so needy for me.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Logan whines, his head tipping back against the pillows a second times, eyes squeezing shut tighten enough to wrinkle the skin around them.

You smile, your nails digging into his chest as you shift, positioning yourself above him. The heat between your legs is unbearable now, slick all along your inner thighs as it pools from your aching cunt, drenching the soft cotton of your panties.

So desperate to be stretched around Logan’s cock, to be filled the only way he can. You roll your hips forward, the hard jut of his cock sliding through the sticky mess of your panties.

“Shit, baby,” he groans, loud and hoarse. “Fuck, give it to me, I’m ready–”

You press your finger to his lips, silencing him as you hover over him. “Not yet,” you whisper, a wicked grin on your face as you slide your panties to the side and take him in your hand, letting the tip brush against your soaked entrance, still not giving him what he craves.

Your own patience is starting to run thin, but the sound of his begging is too good.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” you say, your voice sharp and commanding as you rub the tip of him along your cunt, teasing. “Tell me what you need.”

He’s trembling beneath you, a soft whimper leaving his lips as you sink down slightly, barely letting him inside. "Please, darlin'," he groans, voice rough with need. "I need to feel you—need you so fuckin’ bad."

You finally give in, sinking down onto him in one slow, deliberate motion.

His body jerks beneath you, a choked growl spilling from his lips as you take him in, inch by inch. You don’t stop until he’s buried deep inside you, your walls clenching around him as you settle into his lap.

The feeling is overwhelming, the stretch, the heat, the way he fills you completely.

You both groan at the same time, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you roll your hips, savoring the way he pulses inside you, how his entire body reacts to every little movement.

“God, you’re so big,” you whisper, your voice heavy with lust as you look down at where your bodies meet. “You gonna be a good boy and let me ride you?”

“Fuck,” he grits, voice like gravel crunching underfoot.

His hands slide up your back, desperate and needy as they cradle the back of your head softly. “I’d kill them all,” he pants, lips messily searching for your own, desperate for more frantic kisses. “Fuckin’ all of them, all for you.”

You moan loud and unabashed, eyes screwing shut as your nails rake down his chest hard enough to break the skin. The smell of his blood breaks through the air, heady and sharp. He throws his head back, a broken gasp dragged out of him as his hips speed up.

You think back to the room in the warehouse, the floor slick with stray remains and viscera. Think back to him lifting you to his chest, of the blood spattered across his suit and face slipping against your own clammy skin.

Flashes of Logan running to you like a loyal livestock dog, covered in the blood of any wolf that dares attack his precious sheep. Staining the white of your wool red with the righteous wrath of his sacrifice. 

You roll your hips faster, bouncing with enough force to have you crying out. The tight suction of your walls pulling him as deep as he can get at this angle.

The coarse hair along his stomach drags against your throbbing clit, making white hot sparks of pleasure zing up your spine to light up each vertebrae. 

Logan presses his forehead to your chest, hot breath puffing out over your sweaty neck. You tilt your head to the side almost subconsciously, bearing more of yourself to him.

“Can’t hold back much longer,” he admits weakly, blunt nails digging into your skin sharp enough to sting. “Feels so good, so fuckin' good."

He trails off, face pinched with ecstasy as he gazes up at you. You smile, rolling your hips slowly, tiny figure eights that let you feel every inch of him pressing against your walls.

“You're not supposed to hold back," you whisper, your voice thick with need as you lean down, kissing along his jawline. "I want you to let go, Logan."

His eyes snap open, the hazel gone wild and desperate, and it’s like you can see the exact moment he breaks. The tiniest shred of self control finally crumbling under the weight of his instincts. With a low, feral growl, he surges up.

You’re on your back quicker than you can blink, stomach surging with it. You hardly have any time to react, Logan punching all the air out of your lungs as he sets a brutal pace.

The sudden intensity has you gasping, your body jolting as he takes over, fucking you like his life depends on it. 

Each thrust is hard and deep, hitting the spot inside of you, over and over again until you’re a trembling mess above him, moaning his name, your nails digging into his chest.

Logan’s grip on you is ironclad, pulling you back onto him harder, faster, his breaths coming out in ragged pants as he loses himself completely in the heat of your body.

"That's it," you pant, feeling the way your body tightens around him, the tension building deep inside you. "Fuck, Logan, just like that—"

He growls again, the sound vibrating through his chest as he slams into you harder, his pace relentless. You can feel the sweat slick between your bodies, hear the wet, filthy sounds of your bodies coming together as his control snaps completely.

“Mine,” he growls between thrusts, voice low and rough as he pounds into you, his eyes locked on yours, full of possessive need. "All fuckin’ mine."

Your body responds to his words, tightening around him as your orgasm builds, every nerve in your body on fire. "Yes," you gasp, your voice barely more than a broken moan as he hits that perfect spot again and again. "Yours—only yours."

Slowly, deliberately, you bring your hand to your mouth, biting down on the pad of your thumb hard enough to draw a thin line of blood.

The scent of iron fills the space between you, mixing with the musk of sex and sweat. Logan’s nostrils flare as he takes in the scent, his pupils dilating further, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

You raise your thumb to his mouth, sliding it along his bottom lip to leave behind a thin trail of red. “Suck,” you whisper softly, pressing your thumb into his mouth ever so slightly. 

And he does, without hesitation. 

Logan’s lips part, and he pulls your thumb into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the taste of your blood. The look in his eyes as he does sends a wave of heat crashing through you.

The pure devotion of the act thickening the air around you to coil the spring of pleasure winding in your lower stomach tighter.

You groan, your own restraint folding like a house of cards as you drag your nose down the column of his throat, stopping right at the base. You press a quick kiss over the rapid fluttering of his pulse before you bite down, hard.

Logan keens around your thumb, teeth digging into your skin roughly as his blood floods your mouth. 

You get lost in it, the familiar taste of him seeping onto your tongue as his cock jerks and pulses in your clenching cunt. Getting lost in the way you can feel the rhythm of his heart against your lips, each strong beat sending more blood pumping out to leak along your taste buds.

You press your chest to his, not leaving an inch of space between you. It’s still not enough, it will never be enough.

You need more, so much more.

You want to encompass him completely, to be encompassed by him.

You want to dig your hands into his skin–to peel back each layer of flesh and fat and muscle, snap each of his ribs back so you can bury yourself in the cavity of his chest before you bend them back into place. Burrowing yourself deep enough inside him to watch him heal all around you, to watch his skin stitch itself back together.

It’s a sick feeling, the need to take and take until he has no more left to give. Sick and all consuming, lighting you up like the raging flames of a forest fire that destroys everything in its path. 

When you finally pull your hand away from his mouth, he lets out a breathless moan, and you lean down to press your lips against his in a bruising kiss.

The coppery tang of your blood lingers between you, mixing with Logan’s as your teeth clash together violently, as you devour him, pouring every ounce of your control into the kiss.

You press your palm to his chest, powers surging to life over his heart. You don't need to open your eyes to see what you leave behind, the red and blue pulse of his blood lighting up beneath his skin like the neon sign hanging outside his favorite bar.

Logan moans into your mouth, tongue dragging along the point of your canines. "Don't stop," he pleads, “Please, baby, don’t fuckin’ stop.”

You can feel the energy coursing between you, a tangible thing that's threading itself between your fingers. It’s intoxicating, a connection deeper than flesh, a binding of souls fueled by blood and lust. You lean into the heat radiating from him, urging your energy to flow freely, wrapping it around his heart like a warm embrace.

“Logan,” you whisper breathily, breaking the kiss just enough to look into his wild, pleading eyes. “You feel that? You and me, we’re connected.”

“I feel it, honey,” he groans, bucking his hips, forcing you to take him deeper. “You’re everywhere. It’s all I can think about all the goddamn time, drives me fuckin’ crazy.” His words tumble from his lips, raw and unfiltered, sending another thrill of desire through you.

You whine, head tipping back to the ceiling. Drunk of the feeling of him, of his cock, of his blood on your teeth.

You've come to think that being in bed with Logan is like being in church.

There's a holiness to the way he holds you—like you’re the only thing worth believing in.

The familiar weight of his body pressing you into the mattress is the alter. The heat of him like laying in the burning flame of a candle. The strong planes of his muscles each a different scripture that you take in by touch alone, skating your hands over his skin with something close to worship.

Each bead of sweat on his skin feels sacred, a testament to the intensity between you, as though every part of him has been crafted for this moment of devotion.

The hard length of his cock carves a place for itself inside you, each heavy smack of his hips punching another desperate sound out of your slack lips. 

His breath, deep and ragged, is a chant that pulls you into reverence. It puffs against the wild beat of your pulse, his lips brushing over the fever hot plane of your skin. 

The sound of your name falling from his mouth sounds like a prayer answered.

You can’t help but close your eyes, not in exhaustion, but in a kind of spiritual surrender, like by shutting out the world, you can truly grasp the divinity of it. His blood, mixing with yours on your tongue feels like a sacrament—an unholy communion.

The air between you crackles with heat, your bodies moving together in perfect sync, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. Logan’s head tilts back, his mouth open in a silent scream as he claws at your hips, pulling you down harder, deeper.

“I’m close,” he groans, his voice strained, desperate. “Please—fuck—I need to—”

You reach up quickly, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look at you. “Look at me when you fuck me,” you demand, your voice sharp, dripping with authority. “I want you to watch me when you come.”

That’s all it takes.

 Logan’s entire body goes taut, a strangled roar tearing from his throat as he buries himself inside you one last time, the force of his release crashing through him. The hot spray of his come floods your insides, drenching your walls in thick spurts of white. 

His hands grip you so tightly you’re sure there’ll be bruises blooming later, but you don’t care. You wish they wouldn’t fade. You want them. You want to wear his mark, to feel the evidence of this moment lingering on your skin long after it’s over.

His hips don’t stop even as he comes, a sharp cry ripping its way from his throat as he keeps fucking you, pumping you full of him like he can’t stop. 

When you feel him start to lose control like that, feel the frantic twitch of his cock inside you, you finally let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. The force of it rips a scream from your throat as you clench around him, your body spasming with the intensity of it.

Your abused cunt gushes around his cock to seep into the mattress, soaking both the sheets and his lower body all at once as you let out a weak mutter of his name.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the ragged, uneven breathing between you as you both come down from the high. Logan collapses on the bed, arms circling your waist to drag you along with him. His cock stays inside of you, plugging you full of his come.

Your body trembles with the aftershocks of your orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. 

Logan is warm and grounding under you, soft and lax. You can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath your cheek, and you press a soft kiss to the skin there, a silent reminder.

His hand comes up to thread through your hair, his touch gentle now, his body relaxed in a way that it wasn’t before.

“I love you,” he whispers against the crown of your head, his voice soft, vulnerable in a way that makes your heartache.

You smile, soft and secretive in the valley of his pecs, “I love you too.”

It’s a quiet admission, the first time you’ve ever said that to each other with words. The first time you both felt the need to, because it’s nothing you didn’t already know.

Your blood dripping from his teeth lays the same claim over you as his come dripping down your thighs.

It means you're his, and he’s yours.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[sanguineterrain]

This is not on the prompt list(s), but I’ve been inspired by the phrase “This is for your own good.” and could we have a debut Red Hood Jason saying this to Vigilante!Reader, who was also his pre-death lover, as he’s keeping her prisoner in one of his bases so that she won’t be caught in the crossfire?

OOH. interesting prompt. I haven't really written a darker jason 😏 thanks anon! hope you like.

jason todd x gn!reader. DARK THEMES. drugging, toxic relationship, codependency, chain restraints, knife threats (not from jason). what would happen if jason's best traits (protecting the people he loves, prioritizing safety) manifested in the worst way?

****

"This is for your own good, baby."

You pull at your chains, making them clink against the floor. You snarl as he steps back.

"This is crazy, Jason! Let me go!"

Jason looks at you in sympathy. It pains him to see you like this; Jason never wants to do anything that'll frighten or upset you. Your comfort and happiness always precede his. He'd put a gun into his mouth without hesitation if it would save you.

But he means it: this really is for your own good.

"I thought you were better than this," you say savagely. "I thought you of all people would understand how wrong this is."

"I know it's wrong," Jason says quietly. "I know I'm a bastard and fucked in the head. I know I don't deserve ya. But this is the only way. You won't stop going out there. You're too sweet for this city. It'll tear you apart, and I won't let that happen."

"That isn't your decision to make, Jason!" you say, squirming in your restraints.

You take a deep breath. The Bats only respond to logic when they're this deep in paranoia. You have to appeal to that.

"Jason, listen to me. I know you're scared of me getting hurt, but I know what I'm doing. I've done this for a long time, just like you—"

"And that's exactly where the danger lies. Things go wrong all the time, no matter how long you've been out there. I'm expendable. You're not."

Jason tugs once, twice, three times on your ankles and wrists. Satisfied, he moves on to the chain around your waist that's connected to the wall. It gives you a walking range of about five feet before you're yanked back. Jason had fussed about bedsores, and what keeping you in a bed would do to your range of motion. This was his compromise.

I'm not a monster, he'd insisted. I don't want to hurt you.

"Jason, please," you say. He starts to walk away and you chase him. The wall chain pulls and you land on your knees. Jason stops, looking down at you. You start to cry.

"Jason, please, please! Please don't leave me like this," you say, reaching with bound hands to grab his pant leg. "Please. This isn't right. I'm not a doll for your keeping!"

"I don't think of you as a doll," Jason says, kneeling in front of you. He holds your cheek and wipes a tear with a gloved thumb. "Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. Please don't cry. Hate to see it. I won't keep you like this forever. 'S just until I finish up in Gotham. Then we can go away from all this. Live normal lives."

"This is the life I want to live!" you shout, pawing at his clothes. "Let me go, Jason, let me go!"

"Baby. Hey, hey. You're gonna work yourself into a frenzy. Y'want something to calm you down? Make y'feel nice and sleepy."

Your blood turns to ice. No. No drugs. If Jason drugs you now, there's no telling when or if he'll stop. This is a man who was trained by Batman. You're sure he knows about every drug there's to know about.

You shake your head, your crying becoming quiet blubbering. "No. N-no drugs. Please."

He pets your forehead. "'Kay. No drugs, baby. 'S okay, see? I'll be back in a few hours and then we can eat and I'll draw you a bubble bath. Those are your favorite, remember?"

Jason kisses your salty cheek and stands, putting on his helmet. Like this, looming over you, in full Hood gear, Jason is terrifying. The reminder strikes you again, how capable and deadly your lover is.

Jason leans in and pets your cheek. "So pretty. Love you so much. Won't let anything happen to you, baby."

You watch, defeated, as Jason leaves, locking the door behind him. You listen for the sound of the lock clicking.

Then you get to work on finding an escape.

****

You keep your breathing silent as you wait. Your limbs ache from how long you've been crouched in hiding, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except escaping.

The door opens and shuts. Jason quietly removes his boots and helmet, surveying the apartment like always. He sets a plastic bag on the coffee table. The smell of Thai food fills the apartment.

"Baby? Hey, I'm home. Brought your favorite takeout."

You wait until he walks by your spot behind the TV. Then you strike.

You take Jason down to the floor with a move that only works due to your element of surprise. Then you hold a dagger to his neck, the cold metal pressed flat.

Jason regards you calmly, hands at his sides. You pant furiously, pressing the blade warningly.

"Let me go," you order. "I won't be chained up like that."

"I see," he says, and the way he says it is scarily reminiscent of Batman. You keep that to yourself.

"I mean it, Jason. You can't do that. I'll—I'll call someone on you. Bruce, Clark, Dick. Somebody."

"Alright." Jason holds up his hands slowly. You watch the movement, nerves raw. "Alright. 'S okay. Just breathe. You're upset, I get that."

"I don't—I don't wanna hurt you," you say, squeezing the dagger harder. Your hand cramps in protest. "But if you make me..."

Jason nods. "Yeah, baby. I know. 'S okay. We can fix it. 'M not mad."

"Don't talk to me like that," you snap. "I'm not stupid, Jay. Not stupid."

"I know, sweetheart. I know you're not stupid. I don't think you are. Y'wanna cut me? Feel like hurtin'?" He leans into the blade, breathing steady as a river. "Go on, honey. I heal quick. You need to do it, take it out on me."

The thought of hurting Jason makes you sick. For all of his misguided protection, he hasn't hurt you. Hasn't laid a hand on you or shouted at you. Every form of restraint is as gentle as possible.

"No," you say, voice wobbly. "I-I don't wanna hurt you. Please don't make me."

Jason strokes your arm with his thumb. "No, I won't. You'll never have to hurt anybody. And I'll never let you get hurt either. 'S okay. You're safe with me. 'S me, just Jay."

Jason's hand wraps around the wrist with the knife. You stiffen, and the blade slips. A thin line of blood beads on his neck. He loosens his grip.

"Okay," he says. "Alright. You're safe."

"I don't wanna be chained," you say, tears in your eyes. "I can't be chained. I'll go fucking crazy, Jason."

"I know. I'm sorry. We don't have to do chains."

Your heart hammers in your chest. But Jason is nothing but calm. Blood sluggishly drips down his neck. Your eyes widen.

"I'm sorry," you say, reaching for his neck. "I'm sorry, Jaybird, I didn't mean—"

"I know." He catches your hand. "Shh, shh. That's okay. 'S just a scratch. It was an accident, baby, that's all."

Tears fall down your cheeks. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"I know." Jason slips the knife out of your hand. He slides it away. You collapse into his embrace.

"I can do it," you say, sobbing. "I can go out there, Jay. Please just believe me. Please trust me. You trusted me before."

Jason cradles the back of your head. He slots you between his legs and rocks back and forth. You put your arms around him. His heart is an even thump against your ear.

Finally, you've gotten through to him. Jason isn't completely gone after all.

"Don't worry," he says. "Don't worry, 's okay. It'll all be fine. I know my mistake. I'll be better. It'll be better for us."

Something pricks your neck.

Hope sinks like a rock in your stomach. You squirm, but Jason holds fast, legs trapping yours. You whale on his shoulders with your fists. He holds your biceps, expression sorrowful.

"Baby—"

"No, you promised. You promised!" you scream. "You promised me!"

"It's just to soothe your nerves, honey. Please don't—"

You lunge for the knife, ready to do some serious damage. Jason tackles you before you can. He traps you on the floor, holding you down in a full lock. He holds your arms to your sides, and your legs are pinned to the floor. It's perhaps the gentlest restraint you've ever experienced. You scream and thrash, but it's no use.

"You monster! You're no better than any of them!"

"Sorry, 'm sorry," Jason says. No matter how much you fight, his grip won't budge. You've never been a match for Jason's strength or ability.

"I hate you! You don't love me!"

"I do, I do love you." Jason rests his forehead against your spine. "Christ, your life means more than mine. I won't lose you. You're the only one who matters."

His words are muffled. Your world is going fuzzy. The drug is kicking in.

"You promised," you say weakly, wiggling in one last attempt.

Jason tucks his face into your neck as you fall unconscious.

"I'll keep you safe," he says, lips on your neck. "No matter what."

[cupcakeinat0r]

DadBod!Miguel as a brat tamer

You’d been dying to go out dancing for a while now, but your man, Miguel, wasn’t too keen on going. Besides being swamped with work, he also wasn’t really into the scene due to his introverted nature. Not that you were an extrovert nor was it your scene either, however, you did love to dance. You didn’t need to drink or smoke or take those “poppers” or network with a bunch of fakes or whatever. You just loved to dance, and Miguel loves nothing more than to see you happy, so he agreed.

Miguel took you to a really nice spot in the city that played some salsa and reggaeton bangers. For Miguel, the smile plastered on your face made all the loud music and over-bearing people worth dealing with.

“Alright, mama, the floor is all yours. I’ll be waiting here.” He uses his lips to motion at a small table off to the side. Attached to his arm, you look up at him with a frown.

“You sure you don’t wanna dance with meeeee?” You bat your eyes, using one last effort to get him on the dance floor, but alas, he wouldn’t budge. To ease the disappointment, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead and tells you to have fun, and that he gets more joy out of watching you instead.

Making your way into the crowd, one of your favorite songs comes on and you immediately get into it, and like sew, you find a group of those sweet girls that are complete strangers but end up being your best friends by the end of the night because that’s how nights at the club go.

You all dance with each other, singing/screaming the lyrics at each other. Y’all salsa dance with each other, swaying your hips, letting loose. You’re having a blast, but a part of you still wishes that Miguel was dancing with you.

You glance over at the small table where he sits with his legs spread wide open, his black slacks that fit his thick thighs and ass perfectly, and his belt hugging his wide waist, his soft belly the cherry on top. His black top is buttoned up except for the top four, letting his chest hair peek. The long sleeves are fighting for their lives as they try to contain his bulging muscles. He makes the table look so small. His dress shoes are just as shiny as the thin, gold chain around his neck. He takes a swig of his drink as he looks back at you, practically undressing you with his eyes. You smile at him when you decide to give him a show.

Miguel lets his mouth sit slightly open as he watches you dance, your ass jiggling through the thin fabric of your dress. Whilst enjoying your show, he’s simultaneously looking around, making sure no one makes a move on what’s his.

The song comes to an end and a more slow one begins. You start seeing people couple up and you look at Miguel again, your hand motioning for him to come to you.

Miguel shakes his head and raises his hands in refusal, but you’re not giving up.

It’s corny, but you start lassoing a pretend rope, miming as if you’re pulling him onto the dance floor. This wins a chuckle from him, but he doesn’t get up, shaking his head ‘no’. You drop your hands in defeat then make a tear drop motion with your finger on your face and pout. He pouts as well, and mouths ‘I love you’ as a sorry for not wanting to dance.

You chuckle back and roll your eyes, walking toward the table.

“You’re really not gonna slow dance with me? Not even a little bit?” You ask with your hands on your hips.

“Baby, you know I’m not a dancer.” He says, grabbing your hand to rub circles on with his thumb.

“I’m not asking you to be a dancer, I’m asking you to hold me and step side to side with me for like 2 minutes.” You cross your arms, actually getting upset now.

“How about this, I’ll slow dance with you when we get home, alright?” He speaks lovingly, trying to compromise his own insecurities so that you were happy. You let out a short sigh, “You’re acting like an old man…” Miguel wasn’t amused by that comment, but he knows you’re just giving attitude at this point. “ay beba, por favor, no seas asi conmigo…” he tuts, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you closer in between his legs, his thumbs making circles on the fat of your hips.

“No, that’s fine. Be like that then.” You pull away from his hands to turn on your heel, going back to the dance floor.

Everyone is already paired up, and you look around awkwardly trying to figure out what to do. You feel a tap on your shoulder and turn to see a guy.

He’s absolutely nothing compared to your Miguel but you guess he’ll do for now. You smile at him and begin dancing with him. It’s bachata, so your hips are extremely close to his, his hands tightly grabbing your waist to keep you tightly against his own body.

The glass in Miguel‘s hand could’ve broken had he squeezed any tighter.

You paid no mind to him, but you could feel Miguel’s eyes practically burning a hole into you. Maybe next time, he won’t think twice about dancing with you now.

He thinks about just running in there and ripping the guy to shreds, but he knew better than to embarrass his girl in public like that. He’ll have a talk with you later, privately.

2 hours go by and Miguel sits miserably at his seat after watching you dance with strangers. When you walk back to the table tiredly, you see how pissed Miguel looks.

“Okay… I’m ready to go home!” You’re breathing hard from dancing. Miguel is silent and cold, but still stands to take your hand and walk you out of the club, holding your purse, carrying your shoes, and letting you wear his jacket.

The whole ride home is quiet and his hand that is usually on your thigh isn’t there. You know why. You felt bad, but you never asked much of him, and the one thing you ask for, he wouldn’t give to you.

Still feeling guilty, you try to start conversation in the car, about what to possibly cook for dinner or if y’all needed any groceries, but he just kept facing the road, his brows furrowed and hands clutching onto the steering wheel.

Once you two get home, you reach for your car door handle, but Miguel spits out a curt ‘wait’. Miguel hates when you open doors for yourself. That’s his job, the gentleman. He leaves the car to go over to your side to open the door, but when he does, he stands in your path, and you’re not able to get out, “Care to explain to me what all that was?” His speaks with authority.

“What do you mean?” You play slick. You knew your boyfriend was a giant teddy bear at heart, but sometimes… it was fun pushing his buttons.

“Que tu creer? The stunt you pulled at the club, that’s what I’m talking about.” You’re really trying him, but Miguel is doing his best to control his temper.

“I was just dancing. I asked you if wanted to and you said no, so-“ and in less than a second, Miguel’s pulled you over his shoulder and is carrying you into the house.

You laugh hysterically, kicking your feet, calling out his name and telling him to put you down. Oh, he was mad. You were laughing, but none of this was funny to Miguel.

“o, bueno, entonce baile con un cabron, right?”His voice starts to raise and his blood begins to boil as he walks through the front door and makes way to y’all’s bedroom.

He throws you onto your bed, your body bouncing on the softness of the comforter as you let out some giddy chuckles.

“Jealous?” You smirk, having a little too much fun with this.

“You think this is funny? Cuz’ I don’t.” His lips don’t curl even a bit, which meant you were in for it. You watch him start to unbuckle his pants, biting your lip and rubbing your thighs together.

Just when he was gonna pull down his slacks and briefs, you gasp when he grabs you by the ankles and pulls you open. He basically rips your panties off to find that you’re already starting to drip. “Puta madre, you’re so needy…” he hisses under his breath while he pulls down his briefs, revealing his own dripping, hard mess. He goes to pump himself, inches away from your heat. Watching him fuck his own hand so close to your entrance, you needed some type of relief, so you reach for your clit, but Miguel is quick to catch it and hold it above your head, pinning your other hand shortly after, “Nuh uh, you don’t get to do that. Not tonight, baby.”

His vice on your wrist is tight, making you squirm under him while he thrusts into his one hand, your wrists pinned against the pillow in the other.

His breathing picks up as he edges to his climax, the squelching of his pre-cum in his hand ringing in your ears. He purposefully moans and whimpers into the shell of your ear, putting you through absolute torture. “You don’t like it, do you? Not getting what’s yours? Huh?” He breathlessly speaks between each pound into his fist, your moans becoming more desperate. You can feel yourself clench around nothing, your body weeping for his fat cock.

“Mig, please, pleaseeeee… not fairrrrr,” you beg, wriggling under his grasp, his belly grazing yours every time you arch your back. You had your legs wrapped around his waist and any time you tried lifting your cunt closer to his dick, he’d pull away so you wouldn’t reach, and you’d whine in defeat.

“Not fair? Dancing with some idiot when I told you to wait ‘til we get home isn’t fair.” He growled. With a small whimper, he did one last, slow thrust into his hand before he could combust, edging himself because he wasn’t gonna let you have the pleasure of having his come all over your stomach. Not yet.

He lets go of your hands and positions himself on his knees, moving closer to your leaking cunt. Getting hot, he unbuttons his top and throws it across your shared bedroom, unveiling his now glistening dad bod. You thought you could come just from the sight.

“Fuck, had you not acted up, I’d be devouring this… mierda…” his mouth waters from how wet you were, but he had to stand on business. You flinched when you feel one of his thick fingers drag along your folds, from the bottom to top. When his middle finger meets your pulsing clit, he draws small circles on it, making you whine, “Miguel! Please, I’m sorryyyy, pleasepleasepleaseplease…”

Your eyes are wide shut and your mouth completely open when he starts quickly shaking his forefingers against your clit, your juices flying and falling onto his lap. Miguel takes your moans as indications that you’re close, so just when you’re about to come,

He stops.

You literally cry when he pulls away his hand, a smirk growing on his face, “Mig, I- please, I can’t- I can’t, I’m sorryyy,” you plead for his fat cock, which is practically hovering over your aching heat.

He lowers himself to you, his hands gripping onto the softness of your waist. This allows you to feel his length against your pelvic bone, twitching and wet.

“Sorry for what?” He glares down at you, waiting for your reply.

“Sorry for being mean… just wanted to dance with my man, is all,” you pouted, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing his forehead to yours.

“I won’t do it again, I promise. Please, fuck me?” Your eyes wide with innocence and pleas, you push over Miguel’s heart. You play with his chest hair as he scans your body, thinking if he should accept your apology.

“Coño… such a brat. I’ve spoiled you, you know that?” His voice softens, lining himself up with your hips.

“Because you love me!” You baby talk back to him, batting your lashes at him knowing you’re finally gonna get what you wanted.

“I do. Too much.” Is what he breaths out before rooting a hot, tongued kiss. He groans into your mouth when he starts grinding his cock against your folds, with the addition of your hand pulling on his curly locks on the back of his head.

He pulls away, a string of saliva breaking as he looks down to guide his puffy tip to your entrance. He brings his lips to your ear again and as he slides his dick in, he simultaneously grunts in your ear, “Don’t ever do that again.”

Giving you no time to adjust, he pounds your pussy into tomorrow. The room full with your pornographic moans as well as Miguel’s, the lewd squelching, and the bed creaking. If he went any harder, he’d break it.

Miguel has your legs pushed against your chest now, putting you in a panting mess. He bunched up your dress so that your skirt was up to your midriff and the neckline sat right below your bouncing tits. The way his tip meets your spot every time had you seeing stars and yelping high-pitched gibberish. His happy trail and lower belly slapping against your clit was the cherry on top of everything.

After groaning in your ear, Miguel whispers again, “Am I still an old man, Beba? Huh?” His lip curls as he watches you go dumb from his cock.

You didn’t even bother answering him because all you could think about was how good he was filling you.

He slaps your ass and this snaps some sense into you, somewhat bringing your gaze to his. “Answer me, baby.”

Your voice shakes from the rigor of his thrusts, but you still manage a, “N-no, baby… no…” While you were somewhat right, Miguel was still technically older than you, but that didn’t stop him from fucking you like a horny college boy. The man knew how to fuck and make you come.

“That’s right, mama… fuuck…” Miguel lets a couple more groans out, his ability to be so vocal helping the coil in your stomach unfurl.

“Baby, I’m- I’m gonna c- I’m gonna come…” you barely get it out in a whisper.

Miguel slaps your ass again, “louder.”

“I’m gonna come!” You cry out, your climax about to explode, but Miguel feels you clench.

“ay, diablo… you liked that, didn’t you? Squeezing me s’good…” he slaps your ass one more time before you let out a series of ‘yes’, your hips stuttering against his.

Miguel drags out his own high, slowly pumping in and out of you as he groans into your ear, “Mmmfuckkkk mami…”

He pulls out slowly as to not hurt you, his juices mixed with yours, eventually leaking out. After telling you how good you were and placing a loving kiss to your cheek, He grabbed some tissues on the night stand and cleaned you both up.

“Hey, I really am sorry about earlier. I feel bad for how I acted.” You finally catch your breath, speaking sweetly to Miguel who was changing into a clean set of boxers. He had put you in one of his t-shirts that fits oversized and grabbed a pair of panties for you.

Miguel insists on getting you everything and doing everything for you. When he said he spoiled you, he meant it. He took off your dress and dressed you, he wiped your face with toner, got you some water, everything. You were his queen.

“Mamita, please, I should be sorry for not dancing with you.” He coddled you, pulling you to his chest. No bed sheet or pillow could compare to his soft stomach. “Well, still, I shouldn’t have reacted that way.” You look up at him from his chest and he looks down at you, his hand rubbing your back underneath your shirt.

He lets out a soft chuckle, “It’s alright, mama. Besides,” he turns over to his side, making you two face each other and he whispers, “I can just fuck the attitude out of you.”

“Hey!” You slap his shoulder while he lets out a velvety laugh.

Even though the space between y’all is minimal, it is still too far for Miguel’s liking, so he wraps you in his burly arms, your leg instinctively slinking over his waist. His laughter dies down, your own giggling coming to a stop, and he just whispers, “You know I love you, right? So much, it’s crazy.” Which makes you smile like an idiot, so you roll your eyes.

“I love you, too, viejito.” Now it was Miguel’s turn to scowl and you laugh.

But his expression melts when you kiss his nose as a quick save. Not enough, Miguel cups your face for a full kiss. It was a less passionate kiss, but a long, loving one, putting the perfect seal to an incredibly romantic and intimate moment.

Want more DadBod!Miguel? Here’s my master list bae!

Tags <3

@reewrite @pigeonmama @fayeofthenightingale

[sluttywonwoo]

arm's-length || y.jh

pairing: yoon jeonghan x female reader

summary: you wake up sick the night before you're supposed to join your boyfriend on his work trip. you don't want to get him sick but he still wants you to go. a compromise is made.

warnings: swearing, mentions of covid (the reader does not have it though!!!!), suggestive content (mdni;18+)

word count: 4.4k

a/n: this was originally posted (years ago) on my main/tom holland account. but since i'm sick right now, i thought i might post it here too

notes: fans aren't (as) weird about k-pop idols dating in this au, seventeen also doesn't fly privately in this au... just suspend your disbelief for me

When you woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, throat burning, you assumed the worst. The shrill beeping of the thermometer in your mouth only confirmed what you already knew. You sighed, washed the thermometer and put it back in the medicine cabinet, trading it for a rapid COVID test. You still had a few a stacked underneath the sink for cases like these. You opened the package, swabbed yourself, and reached into the medicine cabinet bottle of ibuprofen. You shook two pills into your palm and used your other hand to cup water from the faucet to swallow them with. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you took a moment to look back up into the mirror at your bleak appearance. Even in the darkness you could see glassy, tired eyes staring back at you and a fine sheen of sweat that had broken out on your forehead. 

It felt like the minutes were dragging by, but your phone’s timer was going off before you knew it. You checked the test- negative, thank god, and then took a seat on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, trying to decide what to do. Jeonghan was leaving to go to Paris tomorrow morning for an UNESCO event, and you were supposed to be going with him. But you couldn’t get him sick too. You wouldn’t.

Resolving to spend the rest of the night on the couch, you tiptoed back into the bedroom to grab your pillow and a blanket.

Jeonghan turned over towards you as you attempted to quietly gather everything in your arms at your side of the bed without dropping anything and you bit back a curse.

“Baby?” he asked groggily, voice raspy. You saw him blinking hard, trying to get his eyes to adjust so he could see you, but you took a step back into the darkness, knowing that if he saw the state you were in he’d never fall back to sleep, and he needed it desperately.

“Go back to sleep, Hannie, I’ll be right back,” you lied, biting your lip as you did so, but you saw him relax back into the mattress and breathed a sigh of relief.

In the living room you sprawled out on the couch, but your aching muscles prevented you from getting comfortable. The thin blanket you’d dragged from the bedroom didn’t do much for your chill, but you wrapped it around you tightly anyway, hoping it would subside once the medicine kicked in.

“Baby?” you awoke to Jeonghan’s concerned voice above you.

You sat up with a groan and immediately shut your eyes tightly, willing the splitting headache that must’ve developed overnight to go away.  

“Why’re you out here?” he asked. “Did we have a fight I’m not remembering?”

You smiled weakly. “No, baby, I’m just not feeling that good so I moved to the couch. Didn’t want to get you sick.”

“What?”

“I just have a little fever, it’s not a big deal.”

Jeonghan looked appalled. “How little?”

You pressed your lips together, not answering. His soft brown eyes hardened just the tiniest bit and he leaned over the couch to feel your forehead. You ducked him initially, and he chuckled at your stubbornness, putting his hand on your shoulder gently to steady you and you surrendered. His cool fingers on your warm skin felt nice and you let yourself relax slightly back into him as he gauged your temperature for himself.

“You’re burning up, love. Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked, trying not to sound hurt.

“You needed sleep,” you explained, voice barely audible.

“And you didn’t?” 

You shrugged. “You have all that important stuff starting today, I just didn’t want-”

“I’m canceling it,”

“No, Jeonghan, you’re not.”

“You’re sick!”

“You can’t cancel on the UN,” you repeated in a measured tone. 

“What are they going to do, fire me?”

“I don’t know, maybe? I’d go as far as to say they’d murder you.” You took a deep breath. “I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.”

Jeonghan let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “But you shouldn’t have to!”

“It’s fine, babe, really. I do it all the time, my immune system is a bitch.” You laughed lightly.

“Because I’m gone all the time,” he murmured in realization.

You frowned because that’s not what you’d been trying to get at, but you knew Jeonghan was already beating himself up for it anyway. “You know that’s not your fault. Your job…” you trailed off. 

“I just want to be able to take care of you.”

“And I don’t want to get you sick during the most important season of your career.”

Jeonghan pinched the bridge of his nose. “I-I can’t just leave you like this!”

“Fine, what about a compromise?” you asked with a cough. Jeonghan narrowed his eyes, but was listening. “I go with you, but you can’t touch me.”

“What? I can’t-” he sputtered.

“Not until I’m better! Do you know how much of an earful I’d get from your managers if I gave you what I have?”

“That’s a terrible compromise.”

“It’s the best I’ve got.”

“You realize how ridiculous that sounds? I can’t touch my fucking girlfriend?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“That you’ll let me take care of you.”

“You can. From an arm’s length.”

“An arm’s length?! Like literally?”

“Yep.” You held your arm out in front of you to demonstrate. “That should be good.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

You were not kidding. And you were nothing if not stubborn. At the airport,  you were able to exchange your first class ticket for an economy seat in a row that wasn’t completely full when Jeonghan was taking pictures with some fans. You felt a little guilty about stranding him and going behind his back, but you told yourself it was for his own good. 

“Ready, babe?” you asked with as bright a smile as you could manage, hoping you didn’t look as sweaty as you felt.

The girls Jeonghan was surrounded by glanced up at you and gave you polite smiles. They backed off to give you guys some space, but still watched on curiously as the two of you interacted.

Jeonghan reached out for your hand and you didn’t pull away, knowing how bitchy it would look in front of the fans. He smirked as he interlaced his fingers with yours and waved goodbye to the girls. As soon as you got to the security line you yanked your hand out of his grasp, pulling out a bottle of hand sanitizer and squirting a bit into his hands. 

“You’re paranoid,” Jeonghan said with a chuckle, rubbing his hands together nonetheless.

“I’m trying to save my own ass,” you muttered coughing into your sleeve a couple of times. A few people in line gave you wary looks, but you ignored them.

You sat two seats apart from Jeonghan at the gate while you were waiting for the plane to arrive and Jeonghan didn’t protest, talking to you softly as you rested your eyes. You liked to listen to his voice, and he didn’t understand it, but indulged you anyway. He talked about different people around the terminal, describing them in detail. He talked about his sister, gossiped about his members like they weren’t sitting a few feet away. He talked about how beautiful you looked, making you laugh. You were wearing his clothes, the ones you’d gone to sleep in, and your eyes were bright red. Your entire face was flushed and you were still sweaty.

“It’s time for more medicine, my love,” Jeonghan reminded you softly and you opened your eyes again. You sat up and held your palm open so that your boyfriend could shake the pills from the bottle into your hand. You swallowed them with a sip of sprite. The bubbles felt good on your throat. 

An announcement was made for first class to start boarding and Jeonghan stood with a stretch, cracking his knuckles. 

“That’s us, baby,” he said when you didn’t stand, beckoning you to join him.

“About that…”

“About what?”

-

“Mr. Yoon, I’m really sorry, but you need to board, sir.” The flight attendant was young and nervous. You felt bad about holding everyone up, and even worse for making this woman’s job harder than it had to be.

“Please just give me another moment,” he pleaded impatiently. 

You’d been arguing with him for about ten minutes. The rest of first class had already boarded and business class was on standby, the only one holding them up being Jeonghan. In any other circumstance they would’ve gone ahead and started boarding business class anyway, but because Jeonghan was a priority passenger, they had to wait for him to be seated before they could continue. 

“It makes no sense. Why the fuck would you switch you tickets?”

“Jeonghan, we’re making a scene,” you said tiredly, noticing some of the passengers waiting had their phones out. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to, but you knew this wasn’t going to turn out well for either of you. 

“I don’t care.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” you apologized, your voice coming out weak. “Can we talk about this later?”

He hesitated, but ultimately gave in with a curt nod. 

“Now get your ass on that plane. I’ll see you when we land.”

Jeonghan gave you a tight smile and a kiss on the cheek that made you freeze. “I love you.”

“Love you.” Bastard. 

And then you watched him go, shoulders tense, expression guarded as he handed the scanned his ticket and walked into the tunnel.

You were one of the last to board, lagging behind the other passengers as not to draw more attention to yourself. Though in hindsight, it had the opposite effect. You could feel everyone watching you out of the corner of their eyes as you walked to the back of the plane and took your seat.

The only other person in your row was an older businesswoman which left the middle seat open. She gave you a nod before turning back to her kindle. You settled into your seat for the flight and shut your eyes. You just wanted to spend the next eight hours asleep and not thinking about how Jeonghan was probably fuming in his own seat right now, but you knew your chances were slim. 

By the time the plane landed, you hadn’t even slept for an hour, despite how hard you tried. It only added to how miserable and exhausted you already were. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of your phone screen and winced at how wrecked you looked. You were already dreading getting off the plane. Not only was Jeonghan probably still mad at you, but you knew people would be taking pictures of the two of you in the airport and you looked like shit. But there wasn’t much you could do about it aside from trying to comb through your hair with your fingers, which did little to nothing. 

Jeonghan was waiting for you on the jet bridge when you got off the plane, but he didn’t speak to you. You followed him off the ramp and into the airport where he slowed a little bit so you could grab his hand.

It was a routine you were used to, but tired of. Pretending like everything was okay in public when it wasn’t. You knew it was necessary, but you didn’t like how natural it had become for you. You and Jeonghan fought like any other couple, only you had to hide it. Putting on a happy face had become second nature, even when you felt shitty. And Jeonghan giving you the silent treatment right now made you feel shitty. 

You knew you couldn’t blame him either, you had lied to him, but you already felt like you were dying and his anger wasn’t helping. 

The airport seemed a million miles long and your hand felt sweaty in Jeonghan’s. He smiled and nodded at the fans who were waiting over by baggage claim and the entrance and you tried to do the same, but your cheeks hurt after just a few minutes and you knew the pictures posted online later were going to be rough. 

You were almost out the door and in an Uber, when you began coughing and doubled over in the middle of the walkway. It was all way more dramatic than it should’ve been. It wasn’t really a big deal, it happened whenever you got sick because your asthma was a bitch. You just needed a moment to catch your breath, but in a second Jeonghan had a hand on your shoulder, standing in front of you to block you from onlookers and cameras.

“Baby, are you alright?” he asked, voice laced with concern. 

“Now you talk to me?” you shot back, smirking when a brief shade of bitterness crossed over Jeonghan’s features. You straightened up and brushed yourself off like nothing had happened. “I’m fine, Jeonghan. Let’s get to the hotel, yeah?”

He sighed, and gave you a once-over like he wasn’t sure if you were telling the truth, but relented and grabbed your hand- the one you’d accidentally coughed into before switching to the crook of your elbow (like you were supposed to do to avoid spreading germs) and you rolled your eyes. He was impossible.

Jeonghan rubbed your head in the Uber on the way to the hotel and you didn’t protest. You weren’t being very good about enforcing the whole “arm’s length” rule, but you gave yourself a pass for this one. 

-

Once at the hotel, you tried to carry some of the luggage up to your room and nearly gave Jeonghan a heart attack in the process. The way his eyes bugged out of his head when you picked up the biggest duffel bag in the pile and slung it over your shoulder while he was trying to check in was comical. You saw him curse and apologize to the receptionist before jogging over to where you were standing, leaving his credit card and wallet on the counter. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he hissed, and took the duffel bag from you, promptly dropping it on the floor. 

You grinned at him sheepishly. “Sorry?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, something he’d been doing a lot in the past twelve hours. “Just- stay here, okay? And don’t do any more weightlifting.”

You shook your head at him as he walked back over to the check-in desk, while keeping his eyes on you and nearly tripping over a side table on the way there. You stood there for a second while he finished up the paperwork and the security deposit, too out of it to do anything with yourself.

“Let’s go, hot stuff,” Jeonghan called out from across the lobby, flashing a pair of keycards at you.

He grabbed the bags this time and handed you the keys in return. As soon as you were in the room and the door clicked shut behind you, you flopped down onto the bed like a starfish, and groaned in pain.

“I’m so sorry you’re sick, baby,” Jeonghan said sweetly as he kneeled on the carpet beside you.

“And I’m sorry I went behind your back and changed my seat on the plane without telling you.”

“It’s okay. I understand why you did it. I would’ve liked to sit next to you, though.” 

“I would’ve liked that too, but I refuse to get you sick, Jeonghan. And I got like two hundred airline points when I downgraded my seat!” 

You smiled triumphantly and Jeonghan chuckled. He propped himself up on the edge of the bed on his elbows and leaned forward to kiss your forehead. He frowned.

“When was the last time you took medicine, y/n?”

You tried to recall it, but you couldn’t remember. Your brain felt too fuzzy. “I dunno.”

“Did you take anything on the plane?”

“Um…” you winced, knowing you were about to get an earful. 

“‘I can take care of myself’ absolute bullshit,” Jeonghan scoffed and reached for the backpack next to him. “I’m never leaving you home sick again.”

“Hannieee,” you whined.

He parroted your name back in the exact same tone of voice. “Here, let’s take your temperature.”

He held the thermometer out to you and you put it under your tongue lazily, already knowing it wasn’t going to be pretty. It beeped loudly only a few seconds later and Jeonghan snatched it out of your mouth before you could look at it. 

“Fuck.”

“What’s the damage, doc?”

He cracked a small smile and sighed. “One hundred point six.” He checked his watch. “Okay, it’s about six-thirty now, you can take some ibuprofen now and then some tylenol at nine-thirty.”

“Are you really supposed to swap them out like that so much?” you asked, taking the pills Jeonghan offered you.

“The managers always did it for me and the members, we turned out fine.”

“Define ‘fine’,” you teased, earning a glare from your boyfriend. 

“Please just take your medicine,” Jeonghan begged. “You haven’t had any in your system for hours.”

“I’m usually good about this stuff,” you insisted and threw the medicine back with a gulp of water. 

He slid the bottle of pills back into the backpack along with the thermometer and crossed his arms. “Yeah, something tells me that when you get sick you keep going to work even though you tell me you’re staying home, you sleep on your breaks, take ibuprofen every ten hours or so, don’t really use your inhaler- even when you’re coughing up a lung, and eat mmm once a day? That sound about right?”

He’d only really half nailed it. Well… maybe seventy percent nailed it. Eighty at best. You gave him an amused look and smiled smugly. “You don’t have any proof.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow at you. “I have your best friend.”

“Son of a bitch, I’m going to kill her.” You sat up and reached for your phone that you’d set up to charge on the bedside table. 

“Hey,” Jeonghan grabbed your wrist gently. “She was just trying to help, love. I asked her what you usually did when you’re sick so that I could know what you like and take care of you, and she told me the truth. She worries about you, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know that actually,” you admitted.

“Well she does.”

“I know those are all bad habits and stuff, but I’m not completely incompetent. I make myself tea and soup when I’m sick. I take hot baths, 

“Do you want me to draw you a bath?”

“That’d be really nice at home, but… I don’t know, I’m just weird about hotel baths.”

He nodded in understanding. “I get it, let’s just shower instead.”

“Both of us?” you asked hesitantly.

“I was thinking so?” He scrunched his face up in confusion. “Why?”

“Because,” you paused to cough, “I’m sick. I don’t want to get you sick. Arm’s length and all that.”

“I know, but it’ll help you feel better.” Jeonghan held his hand out to you. “Come on, baby,” he coaxed and led you into the bathroom. 

He managed to get you and himself undressed and in the shower without further argument from you. Truthfully, you were too tired to fight about it. You could barely stay awake and upright as Jeonghan worked shampoo through your hair, let alone form a comprehensible sentence. You moaned a bit as his strong hands rubbed soap down your torso, not being able to help your body’s reaction to his touch.

“You okay, baby?” he asked. “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” you said and shook your head, immediately regretting it when the room started spinning around you. “Sorry, just kind of out of it.”

“Don’t worry, my love.” Jeonghan smiled at you and leaned in to kiss you. You came to your senses and pushed yourself away from him. He didn’t even try to hide a frown this time.

“Can you at least try to stay healthy?” you sighed and stepped out of the shower.

Jeonghan wasn’t far behind you and wrapped a towel around your shoulders. “I’m sorry, but it’s not my fault you’re so fucking irresistible.”

You glared at him. “Smooth.”

He looked amused. “Wow you must be really sick, not even my pickup lines are working on you.”

“I’m going to bed,” you said, ignoring him.

You climbed into bed in a sweatshirt, pajama pants, and socks while Jeonghan came to bed in just his boxers. You looked at him in disbelief. 

“You’ll freeze, Hannie. It’s cold as fuck in here.”

“No it’s not,” he replied and bit his lip. “You’ve got a fever, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize, baby. I can warm you up,” he offered and rolled over to hold you, only to be smacked with a pillow. 

“Keep your hands to yourself, Yoon.”

You made a small barrier of pillows between you so neither of you would accidentally (or purposely, ahem Jeonghan) roll over and touch the other in the middle of the night. 

“Are you serious?” Jeonghan pouted. “Baby-”

“Nuh-uh we had a deal. You need to be feeling your best for... whatever it is you’re doing tomorrow. You’re the interim leader, after all.” 

“Whatever,” he huffed and rolled over onto his other side.

“You’ll be thanking me whenever you don’t catch what I have,” you said and coughed a few more times. 

You rolled over to turn off the lamp on the table next to you before pulling the covers all the way up to your chin and finally, finally getting some sleep. 

You dreamt about him. About Jeonghan. About his hands on your body while being buried deep inside you. His mouth was on your neck, your shoulders, your collarbone. You arched your back when he moaned softly in your ear, gripping the sheets tightly with one hand, using the other to pull at his hair. You felt yourself getting close when he began thrusting into you harder than before and you gasped at the sensation, only getting closer to the edge when he called out your name. 

“Y/n,” at first whispered and then more firmly. “Y/n. Y/n!”

Your eyes snapped open and you searched the dark room frantically, looking for Jeonghan. He was right next to you, gazing at you in concern. His hair was sticking up all over the place from where he’d moved around in his sleep and he was looking at you expectantly. 

“You were calling out for me, are you okay?”

Your face was burning with embarrassment and you wondered if he could tell. You were still breathing hard, and you were a little sweaty, but you couldn’t tell if it was from your fever or from your dream. “I’m fine, sorry to wake you.” 

“Were you… dreaming about me?” he pressed, leaning over the pillow barrier to look at you closely. 

You hesitated. “Uh, yeah.”

“What was the dream about?”

“Nothing important, we were, um…in a corn maze! We were in a corn maze and I couldn’t find you and that’s why I was calling out for you.”

“A corn maze?” He didn’t look convinced.

“Mhm.”

“Baby?” he asked again. 

“Yeah?”

“Was it a sex dream?”

“…maybe.”

Jeonghan’s face lit up and he lifted himself up onto his arms to climb on top of you. “Here let me help-”

You held out and arm to stop him. “I’m, I’m fine Jeonghan,” you lied, clenching your thighs together. 

He flopped back down onto his stomach on top of the pillow barrier. “So if I reached into your panties right now, you wouldn’t be wet?”

You swallowed. “Nope.”

“Liar.”

“I’m fine, Jeonghan! Sex is literally the last thing we should be doing right now! Do you know how much bacteria-”

“I never said anything about sex,” he countered.

“What are you talking about?”

“I was just going to eat you out! I want you to feel better, baby.”

“I think that’s somehow worse?”

“No way, I don’t think I can catch anything from eating you out.”

“I’m almost positive you can, Hannie. I’m fine.”

“I’m googling it!” He announced and rolled back over. Before you could protest the light from his phone was shining over his face as he typed. “Can you catch a contagious virus from eating pussy?”

“That’s going to be in your search history forever.”

“The internet doesn’t say anything against it,” he declared victoriously.

“Does it say anything about it at all?”

“Uh… yeah. It says it’s fine”

“Who’s the liar now, Jeonghan?” He grinned sheepishly. “Go back to sleep, I’m fine. I’m not even horny anymore.”

He looked at you like he didn’t believe you, but ultimately put his phone back on the table and closed his eyes again. In no time he was breathing deeply and you could relax. Why was common sense so lacking in your boyfriend? What part of the no touching deal did he not understand? The answer was all of it and it was a pain in the ass. He was a pain in the ass. A pain in the ass that you loved very much, but a pain in the ass nonetheless. 

You closed your eyes, but couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t that you weren’t tired, you were still completely exhausted, but Jeonghan had been right. You were still insanely turned on from your dream and you weren’t sure what to do about it. You waited a few minutes for the urge to subside, but it didn’t. 

“You were about to cum, weren’t you?” Jeonghan piped up out of nowhere, scaring the shit out of you.

“Fuck, I thought you were asleep.”

“Just answer the question,” Jeonghan growled, not helping your current situation whatsoever. “In your dream, you were about to, right? You were biting your lip like you do when you’re going to cum.”

You sighed. “Yeah. Yeah I was.”

“But you didn’t?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“Let me help you finish, baby. It’ll help you sleep,” Jeonghan insisted. “You need rest.”

You sniffled and groaned. “Ugh, you’re impossible, you know that?”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes,” you surrendered and pushed the blankets down below your hips. “But the rule still applies. Arm’s length.”

He smirked. “I think I can work with that.”

[slowcatsworld]

Blue Lock Master Striker Headcanons

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

France’s PXG: Julian Loki

My sweet

Julian definitely is an older sibling (literally made a 3 post long argument on how he is one so TRUST he is). His favorite memory of his little sibling is when they first said his name. The small ‘Julian’ mumbled in multiple breaths (ju..julian yk) made him pause his homework and look them straight in the eye. They stared back with a big, innocent smile. Julian broke out into a smile of his own and grabbed the little guy for a hug.

Julian has such a carefree relationship with his mom, he gives off such mama’s boy vibes. They are a duo that would stay up late watching tv shows even though he has school in the morning and his mom has work. When his mother would cook something Julian was always her taste tester. He lost count the amount of times he would go back for seconds just to “get a better taste” and receive a wooden spoon to the hand. Julian’s mother would adore his girlfriend, especially since she can tell what a good impact you have on her son.

Julian would work well with someone who has a lot of energy but doesn’t need to be monitored or babysat. For example, say he is out at an amusement park with his friends and significant other. His girlfriend sees a game stand that piques her interest and hurls away from the group to investigate with determined steps. Julian isn’t worried about her getting lost or in an altercation with someone. he knows she’ll be back soon and give everyone a detailed report of the stand, the game set up, and the prizes offered. Whether or not she will ask him to spot her some cash to play the game is a whole other story. (Brother is loaded just from playing football)

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England’s Manshine City: Chris Prince

I hate him

Pathetic man baby vibes

Chris is very aware of his personal hygiene and is ridiculously active in taking care of his body. He has a personal massager, esthetician, chiropractor, waxer, the works. He loves his physicality too much to let himself rust in any capacity. He almost never skips brushing his teeth or washing his face. If he isn’t fueled with a type of passion or desperate enough, he won’t kiss you in the morning until you both at least have some mouth wash. He carries two different deodorant scents in his practice bag. This is nice because you know he won’t ever smell bad, but sometimes he becomes cologne nose blind (especially on high end dates).

He has a beef with Americans. (I don’t know if he’s confirmed English but he is today) He doesn’t mock them or become outwardly rude to them, but he’s thankful to be in the European League and not the North American League (is that a real league? Google isn’t helping and I don’t know shit abt professional soccer leagues-) Chris goes bonkers when someone jokingly calls him an American; as he will be whining and waving his arms about how he’s so much better than them and how it insults his legacy to be compared to an American and not be acknowledged as an English man.

When his hair isn’t cooperating with him he cries out of frustration.

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Spain’s FC Barcha: Lavinho

Lavinho loves the feeling of dancing with his partner. It’s intimate and free, no matter what style nor if there was music or not. Lavinho is so fond of holding your hips and gently swaying the two of you in the silent hours of the night that he has a pep in his step when he walks home from practice. Your scent filling his nostrils, the heat he can feel coming from your neck and shoulder as he rests his head there, it’s all too perfect as he begins to hum a song to himself.

Lavinho would want to get a tattoo reminiscent of you. If yall ever were that serious. At first he was thinking of your name, but you shot that down quickly. Something more primal and colorful was more his style. He wants something that represents you, though. Y’all compromise on a couple things that fit both of your wishes. Your favorite flower, a kiss mark, and a woman dancing with a pair of wings emerging from her back. (Picture this omg. The woman could be bowing, in the middle of a dance move or smth and the wings are halfway out of her back. Or something like the woman looking up and outstretched and welcoming to the feeling around her. With the wings spread out powerful and graceful. Okay I’m done I’m done)

Lavinho loves being barefoot. If he can’t be barefoot, Lavinho is wearing open toed shoes. Chanclas, flip flops, Birkenstocks, doesn’t matter. He grew up like this, and doesn’t quite want to conform his freedom and customs to the world of Europe yet. Even if he has been living there for years. He gets so happy at feeling sand under his feet as well, it reminds him of his younger childhood days in the best way. (This is prolly canon bc the first time we see him he’s barefoot right?)

Am I becoming a Lavinho girl..?

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Italy’s Ubers: Marc Snuffy

I don’t like him but I don’t hate him-

He says ‘shitty brats’ too much in the same breath at the end of the Ubers vs BM match I think he unlocked his previous degradation kink or smth idek maybe that’s why

Okay focus

Mick Moon’s death still haunts Snuffy. He hasn’t truly let it go, and even though he seems to make progress during the Ubers vs BM match, he has a long way to go to fully come to peace with his best friend’s death. Most times Snuffy can’t drink alcohol without thinking of Mick and becoming guilty. All the thoughts of how he could have saved Mick from his fate, how he did try but it wasn’t enough, how he allowed for his best friend to ruin his own life- even though that meant Mick stayed true to his philosophy. It hurts Snuffy. It’s the main reason why Snuffy cares so deeply for his teammates now, and why he goes out of his way to make sure they are okay mentally in his own way.

Snuffy wasn’t that interested in the luxury of lust that came from women when he first started out on his dream to being a professional footballer. It wasn’t until Mick that he started indulging in being a lady’s man. While it was almost always lustful and physical, the women that tugged at his heartstrings were the ones that would compliment Snuffy’s nose. The ones that would hold his face to their chest and give him slow, loving kisses to his nose while their hands moved further up into his hair. The ones that knew his eyes were actually orange and not brown and how those women looked into his sharp, big eyes like he was the reason for all their happiness was surreal. Those instances it would become all too real for Snuffy. The lines between lust and something more would get blurred and blurred until he got scared and backed away and moved to the next lady in the next club with a smaller smile than before.

Snuffy is very proud of his black belt in Jujitsu. Especially with the way it helps him on the football field. His understanding of his own body and abilities mean more to him than the average person too. Also because of Mick and how Mick ignored his body both before and after getting let go as a footballer.

Okay, Snuffy isn’t that bad I guess-

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Germany’s Bastard Munchen: Noel Noa

My man my man my man

Let me give you a big smooch

Noel sunburns so easily. He never tans, he always burns a hot pink. He has but an ounce of melanin in his skin that prevents him from being totally albino. Because of this, he is very serious and methodical about applying sunscreen. He applies daily, especially when he knows he’ll be outside for practice or a game. He also isn’t that fond of costal activities because of the sun exposure, even more so because he can’t swim that well. (OMG I read a little blurb about Noel not being able to swim but his wife loved to I don’t know who wrote it but it was so cute I’ll try to find the writer)

He does interviews for football, but finds them rather bland and not that important. He likes to discuss football strategies and profile analysis he’s done of other players, but most of the time reporters aren’t that interested in his words. They always want to know more intimate details about him, it feels like to Noel. Just not his exact cup of tea, but he knows other players are always willing to talk in an interview so he leaves the chitter to them if he can. He likes for his actions on the field to speak for him.

Noel makes an effort to acknowledge stray animals if he can. The cat sitting on the restaurant sill? He gave it some head scratches before continuing his walk. The dog that always lays in the same sunny spot of concrete on the sidewalk? Noel has given him some water just yesterday. It feels as though he’s paying homage to their sacrifices by giving them small acts of domesticity as he was once a stray too. He still feels like one sometimes. At night when he’s awake in his bed thinking, he ponders the possibility of taking one of the many strays home with him. He won’t allow himself to though. He can’t stoop so low as to take an animal into a home that he knows he’ll be absent enough from them (his football commitment sigh) to not properly take care of them, his head reasons, even if his heart wants him to act so unrationally.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This biscuit is just for you, mwah 😽

8.6.24

[draftdweller]

Cherry, baby

Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Unprotected P in V, Oral F receiving, plus sized reader.

You were on your way home from your late night Diner shift, the uniform looking straight out of the 50's, your cherry red lipstick providing a stark contrast to your facial features, the dark mass of hair tied back in a nice updo to keep it out of your face and make sure it's contained while you work. You loathed the pastel pink dress that you had to wear for your shift, but money is money. You were flat broke every month after bills and groceries, the economy was more than difficult to survive in. You blamed the cost of things on the damages every city endured from every spat that came from mutants fighting their own wars. You noticed the city you were in was compromised the most, New York. Every week a new part of the city was destroyed, every month a new price raise on things. You loathed it completely. Even being a mutant yourself, you stayed to yourself.

Your family had tried to ship you off to Charles Xavier's school for the gifted. You booked it out of there by first light of the next day. No one had even noticed you were gone. Who would, with your powers being nothing spectacular, just telekinesis and the ability to cloud your presence from others. It was useless in any of their battles, and useless in life unless you were using it to move the trays at your job when you were busy with other things.

When you got back to your tiny apartment, you sighed seeing the notice on your door, three days to evacuate the premises, two months late on rent due to hours being cut meaning you couldn't afford it any longer. luckily you had almost no possessions, and the next thing you knew, you were on your way back to the mansion of professor x.

You approached the door and gave a tentative knock, who knew if Charles would let you back into this place. But when the door opened, it wasn't Charles before you. No, it was a muscular man, broad shoulders, dark hair that came up to a point on either side of his head. He was gorgeous, and rugged. He had a cigar between his lips and eyeing you cautiously.

"Can I help you, bub?" A gruff tone left his lips as he spoke.

"Uh, Yes. I'm looking for Charles"

"Charles? How D'you know him?" Another glance in your direction as he took a drag from the cigar.

"He's an old friend."

"I see. Well, come in then" As he spoke he turned and stepped into the house.

You nodded and walked in, and suddenly all eyes on you, Storm drawing in a breath as she caught sight of you. She was one of the only ones who had noticed you had left back when you did. The look in her eyes was both hurt and shock, taking in the sight of you. She walked up to you, her hair significantly shorter than when you'd last seen her.

"Y/N? Where have you been? I thought you had died. Why are you back?" She cautiously held you at arm's length and looked you over

"Died? No, I was just fine. I was on my own as soon as I could be. No one knew where I was because I knew if you all could find me, you'd bring me right back here, and I don't think I ever belonged here, my gifts are useless to say the least. Could you take me to Charles please?"

Without another word, she led you to Xavier, who you spoke to about staying here. You were assured you would always have a place at the school, and so there it was. You were working on unloading what little things you had, when the man who answered the door was standing there in the doorway. Keeping his eyes on you, as you used your mind to move the items around where you wanted them.

"So. You've been here before then? What brought you back?" He spoke and as he did so, you could feel his eyes tracing over your curves. You took off your hoodie you were wearing and looked back at him. "I had nowhere to go anymore" Your reply was short, not unkind but definitely blunt

"I guess that makes sense. But why'd you leave in the first place?"

"Look. I'd rather not discuss this with someone I know nothing about." Your cherry red lips pursed as you finished your sentence, hoping that would be the end of it. You couldn't be more wrong.

"Yea, well bub, Good luck trying to know anything about me. I don't even know much about myself from before I got here. Just that my name is Logan, and I have adamantium bones, and claws"

Your eyes rolled and you looked at him unbelieving. Then you noticed the look on his face. Your brows crinkled up and you sat on the bed.

"You really don't remember?"

"Not really. When I try to look back, it's foggy. Like someone covered it with mist"

You were nodding along as he spoke, and couldn't help but feel bad for him.

"So then, what is your name?"

"Logan." That was all he said before he left the room. That in itself was weird.

SIX MONTHS LATER

You had adjusted to the mansion life, always buzzing during the day. Quiet at night, there seemed to still have the curfew to be in your rooms at. But tonight, you couldn't sleep. You cautiously made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a drink and snack, and going to the room where the TV was. You made sure that it was turned down low enough that it wouldn't disturb anyone, but high enough that you could still hear it. You were in the middle of a horror movie when there was the sound of someone clearing their throat. You felt your body launch ten feet in the air, knocking the snack and drink off the coffee table in front of you. You turned around to see Logan standing there, his hair messy, and him wearing sleep pants and a white tank.

"You do know, there's a curfew, correct?"

"Yes, I, Yes. I just couldn't sleep. I'm sorry" You were tripping over your words as you spoke, your eyes following the contours of his body.

"Yea, that's the understatement of the year for me. I don't sleep much either. You mind if I join you here then?"

"Go ahead, as long as you promise not to scare the shit out of me like that again." You were moving over to make room on the couch for him, and he sat, eyeing you with a smirk playing on his lips.

"What are you doing sitting so far? I don't bite." He motioned for you to sit closer to him, and nods at the TV "Poltergeist huh? that's a good one"

You nodded, and slid closer to him, leaving a bit of space between the two of you. "One of my favorites that still startles me here and there."

He chuckled and nods. "I suppose it still has some good jumps here and there. If you need to, you can hide in my shoulder"

Your own laugh left your lips, and you nodded keeping that in mind. Eventually you did wind up burying your face against his shoulder, feeling nothing but muscle. He wound up moving to wrap said arm around you, his hands stroking over your plush curves, fingers splaying against your bare midriff, and tracing circles against your skin. You felt your cheeks heat up as he did this and looked up at him. You couldn't form words, but you could feel a spark of energy between the two of you.

You leaned up, and pressed your lips against his, kissing him slowly. At first, he resisted, shocked by the bold move and then kissed back. The kiss increased in passion, until you pulled back looking at him sheepishly.

"I, I'm so sorry. I don't know why I did that."

"Don't apologize, I was just stunned at first, bub. I liked it."

You met his eyes, your own wide, just as he crashed his lips back into yours, kissing you hotly. You returned the kiss with the same urgency, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair, a guttural groan leaving his lips as you tug gently, and his hands coming to rest on your hips, trying to pull you into his lap. You resisted with that move, mainly because you were self-conscious about your weight. You pulled back and looked at him "I, I can't" Your words were hushed, and he looked at you his brows knitting in confusion. "I'm heavier, I don't want to crush you"

"Bub, look. You wouldn't crush me, believe me. You may think you're too heavy, but I promise, I'm indestructible. I can handle you" As he spoke, his fingers came up to grip your chin gently. His words were sincere, and his touch gentle. He brought your lips back up to his, kissing you slowly. Instead of pulling you onto his lap this time, he pushed you back gently, causing you to lay back on the couch.

He pulled back from the kiss and moved his lips to the hollow of your throat, kissing and nipping gently, eliciting a gasp from you. He looked up at you from your throat and smirked "Oh, you liked that, did you?"

You didn't respond. You just nodded your head. In an instant, his lips were back on your throat, licking, nipping and sucking on it. Sure to leave marks on it. His hand was trailing up your thigh, and stopped at the junction between your thighs, stroking gently through your clothes. You moaned out and covered your mouth. He smirked and hushed you slightly. He moved up and hooked his thumb in your sleep shorts, pulling them down, revealing nothing underneath. He let out a ragged groan as he took in the sight of you. You glisten slightly in the lighting of the TV.

"Fuckin' beautiful" He murmured. His eyes had a look in them like a man starved and he met your gaze again. "If you want me to stop at any point bub, tell me. I will" "I want to keep going" Your words were a whisper, your hands covering your face slightly as he moved to place his head between your thighs.

He gazed up at you, and his fingers coming up to stroke along your folds. The little moan that left your lips encouraged him to keep going. His fingers slipped between your folds and caressed the sensitive bud above your entrance. Another gasp slipped from your lips, and he inhaled sharply, taking in your scent. His lips replaced where his fingers were, and they slipped down, teasing your entrance before pushing one digit in. You moan out loudly and arch your hips, his lips capturing the sensitive bud, sucking and nipping on it gently. "Logan, please. I need more" You mewled out as his pushed another finger into you. He smirked against you and sped up the motions of his fingers, continuously hitting the spongy area that had you most about to come undone. You felt yourself tighten around his fingers. "Come on bub, let go. Soak my fingers."

With his words, you let out a strangled cry, coming around his fingers and your hips buck slightly. He pulled back and looked up at you, bringing his fingers to his lips, and sucking them clean with an appreciative groan

"You taste so sweet, like cherries" His words caused your cheeks to heat up again and you look at him

"I, maybe we should go to my room, if you wanted to, I mean"

He smirked and nodded, pulling your shorts back up and lifting you effortlessly. He made his way to your room, and opened the door, bringing you into the room and shutting it with a kick. He made his way to your bed, laying you on it and kissing you once more. His knee separating your legs, and he nipped at your lip roughly. You could feel the bulge of him in his sleep pants pressing into you. Your hand came down to rub against it gently, causing him to let out a low growl "You sure you want to go there bub?"

"I've never been surer of anything, Logan" He nods and pulls back, peeling his shirt off his body, and then his sleep pants. Finally, he removed his boxers, and you gasped as he sprung free. He was thick, and long, with the tip red and leaking precum. He noticed the way you were looking at it and smirked slightly. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you" You nodded slowly, and looked at him, carefully peeling off your crop top and sleep shorts. You made an effort to cover your body back up as his eyes danced hungrily over you, but he grabbed your hand gently. He looked you over and used his free hand to stroke your face gently "You are so beautiful. Don't hide it" You were speechless, most people didn't compliment you for your body. But he did, and his eyes devoured you. Before you knew it, his lips were back on yours. His hand moving down to line himself up with your entrance.

He slowly pushed into you, stopping after an inch to let you adjust, and your jaw was slack at the feeling of him. He was waiting for you to adjust. "Logan, please move" With your plea, he pushed further in, until he bottomed out, his balls against your ass and a groan leaving his lips at how tight you were around him. Slowly he began moving and growled at the first thrust. He couldn't take the slow pace, and began to speed up, the sound of skin slapping filled the room, along with the grunts and moans. Your hands were on his back, nails digging into the skin making him hiss. Your eyes rolled back as he hit your sweet spot. The feeling was washing over you again, and he was murmuring sweet things to you, encouraging you to let go again. You let go with a cry of his name, tightening almost painfully around him, and he thrust, the thrusts getting sloppier. As you came undone around him, he followed quickly. His hips stuttering as he shot his seed deep into you. He collapses on top of you, breathing hard, and looked up at you, a small smile playing on his lips. "You did so good for me, Cherry baby" "Why do you call me that logan?" your eyes met his curiously

"Because when I first met you, and every day I see you. your lips are red as cherries"

You smiled and nodded, taking in what he said and agreed. A yawn slipped from your lips, and he pulled out gently, moving to lay by your side. You turned to face him, spent entirely from the sex and his hands rested on your hips. Before you knew it, you had drifted off to sleep, and logan snuck from your room.

By the time you woke up, you had noticed the side of the bed he'd been on was cold, and empty. You couldn't help the disappointment you felt. You decided that last night was just another meaningless night.

A/n: I'm so sorry, this was my actual first attempt at writing smut. It's not very good, but I enjoyed it. Let me know if you did too!

[cosmos-coma]

My Sun, My Star- Part 3

A/N: I feel like I’ve been writing and editing this forever but I think I’m finally done! I had a lot of requests for the Winter Soldier meeting his baby and so here we are! Besides a small epilogue this will probably be the last direct chapter of My Sun, My Star. Hope you’ve enjoyed!

Pairing: Bucky X Reader / Winter soldier!Bucky x Reader

Words: 4996

Warnings: Blood, fear of kidnapping/death, threats of violence, swearing, pregnancy/labor/birth, GN reader (no pronouns), but pregnant reader, blood, canon-level violence, rare use of Y/n (let me know if I missed things)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Epilogue | Bucky Masterlist

Buy me a Ko-fi?

________

“And you promise this is safe?” Bucky asked tentatively, his brow drawn together as he frowned in concern. His arms would have been crossed tight across his chest had one hand not been occupied holding yours. 

“It’s the safest thing anyone could do,” Maria assured him from across the table, “it should only take about 40 minutes. We just need someone to make sure everything is set up properly in the safe house. There's some light cleaning and we need to make sure that the locks are good, the thermostat works, and the signal jammers are functional” she explained at length. 

Today they were receiving a low-tier HYDRA agent that had recently defected. Fearing for his and his partner's life they sought refuge with what remained of SHEILD, promising to spill whatever secrets he needed to keep them safe. However, in the off chance it was all a ruse, they set up signal jammers so there’d be no chance of the agent alerting HYDRA or anyone else that may compromise the location.

“If it helps we can even keep the house under surveillance just in case. There’s plenty of cameras on the surrounding houses we can use to keep an eye out,” Maria continued, looking across the table to you this time.

You rubbed your enlarged belly, nearly bursting at the seams as you were due just a few days from now. Bucky had been the perfect companion while you were stuck at home, getting you anything you could possibly need, making sure you didn’t tip over, and keeping you entertained while you were mostly couch and bed-bound. 

But now you were bored out of your mind, beyond tired of sitting on the couch at home all day and night, so why wouldn’t you take an easy job and the bit of money that goes with it? You can waddle around for a while to check some things out. You might be a little slow, but it couldn’t be more than an hour at most. What’s the harm in that?

 “I’d love to, when do I start?” 

Bucky did not have a good feeling about this.

____

It started as any other day; fairly quiet and mundane, and although it would be boring to anyone else, you were just happy to see something other than the inside of your apartment. You pulled the car to a stop in the driveway, looking up at the nice yet bland little house that sat before you. It was a good-looking neighborhood just an hour outside of the city, with decently spaced houses and gardens dotting the lawns here and there. And if you were anybody else it’d be your perfect suburban dream.

After a brief moment of struggling to squish your belly past the steering wheel you finally managed to hobble out, “Ha ha! See? Pregnancy isn’t so hard… I make this look easy,” you boasted to yourself with a grand smile as you stepped out of the car. You took a moment to dig your knuckles into your lower back as you exited, trying to chase away the pain you felt. It had started aching something awful on your way out here, cresting and falling in small waves, but it was nothing you couldn’t work around. You’d lay down eventually and you're sure it would right itself in no time.

You waved to the cameras pleasantly as you walked to the front door, clicking the key into the lock and punching in the ever-changing security code Maria gave you. Unlocking with a lighthearted mechanical chirp you stepped inside and looked around.

It was pretty bare bones; just the basic necessities- food, water, a couple of games, and a shelf of books to pass the time with. Curtains were drawn tight over the windows, keeping the place veiled in shadowy darkness and prying eyes out as you took your first few steps in. Closing the door behind you with a soft click you pulled out your phone to text Maria.

‘Testing testing 123,’ you sent, pausing a moment before giving a satisfactory nod as it refused to go through. The jammers seemed to be working just fine. 

Bucky had been thoroughly against it when he heard there’d be signal jammers; he did not want you anywhere you couldn’t contact him with your due date so soon. But Maria assured him (as much as she could) that you’d still be able to call if needed- and vice versa- but that you’d have to use the tapped landline hanging inside the kitchen. 

You hummed softly as you went about your work, ignoring the discomfort that ran down your back and stomach as you moved. You were just about halfway through your list when you felt your belly begin to quake, “Ohhh, hey. Okay, I know you probably wanna sit down, but we’ve barely started,” You winced as you rubbed your stretched-out skin, only to be met with a sharp kick. 

“Ow! Okay! okay, maybe 5 minutes on the couch first…,” You held both your back and your stomach as you waddled toward the couch slowly, surely looking like quite the sight had anyone been around to see it. 

Clink clink clink

You paused as you heard the front door jiggle. 

No one was supposed to be here for hours yet.

It jiggled again, and this time you heard the voices of several people standing outside. 

“There’s a car outside, he’s got to be here” you barely made out as the first voice mumbled, “if not him, then his partner- And I won’t be going back empty-handed,” another chimed in.

“We’ll find a way to keep him silent. Whether with his blood or theirs.”

Your stomach dropped.

They must’ve been HYDRA agents. Were they here for the defector? How on earth did they find this place? 

But there was no time to think as the landline rang loudly from the kitchen. Wincing, you prayed to anyone who would listen that they wouldn’t hear it- but no such luck.

The door rattled again, violently this time, and was followed by mumbled threats to an agent you had never met.

Panic coursed through your body as you waddled quickly through the house, head turning this way and that as you searched desperately for a place to hide. 

‘Can’t fit under the bed, the bathroom is too obvious, the kitchen is too open, I can’t go outside, and I can’t fight my way out…’ Your brain ran through endless possibilities, unhappy with each one as you clutched your stomach.

Pew pew

You recognized the sound of muffled gunshots immediately, they were quieted by a silencer- a terrifying thought- but you recognized them all the same as they shot through the security pad outside the door. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you cursed as you bolted toward your last choice, darting into the closest bedroom and tucking yourself behind the closet’s sliding doors, pulling them closed with a swift slam just as the front door busted in. 

‘Deep breaths… Deep breaths…,’ You tried to slow your frantic breathing as footsteps entered the otherwise silent house. You desperately wished there were clothes, anything, in this closet you could hide beneath but it was as bare as the rest of the house. Sitting down, you curled into the furthest corner of the closet you could, forcing your heavy breaths into silence as you raked your brain for any solution you could.

‘Ah! My phone!! I can text for help!’ You scrambled to pull your phone from your pocket and quickly typed out a message to Bucky. Hopefully, he’d alert the others and be the first to come to your rescue. 

“No, no, no, no…” you groaned quietly, “Why isn’t it sending?” You shook your phone angrily as it continued to refuse you and sighed in defeat when you finally remembered the jammers set up throughout the house. Your only hope now was the landline in the kitchen….

“Spread out,” the HYDRA leader commanded as he made his way into the house, picking up your bag that you so carelessly left out, “Find whoever’s here, and do whatever you need to bring them in. As long as they’re breathing, I don’t care how they come back,” He ordered, several pairs of feet breaking away immediately to search through the house. 

You pulled your knees as close to your chest as you could, tears prickling your eyes as you tried to think of a way out. You weren’t even sure when the tears started to run, your mind growing numb as you thought of bad ending after bad ending. Doors slammed on the floor above you, making you flinch as you knew that at any moment it could be yours. You were trapped

But you had to be calm- Bucky would want you to remain calm. You could think of a way out, you knew you could, you just needed to take a deep breath. What would Bucky tell you to do? 

 You had just managed to get yourself somewhat calm again when a sudden wetness took over your lower half. Panic set in again as you scrambled to see over your ballooned belly, fearfully wishing this wasn’t what you thought it was. But as an even worse pain tore through you, like knives jabbing into your pelvis, you knew you weren’t mistaken. 

Your water just broke.

——-

Technicians clacked away at their keyboards with lightning speed as Maria Hill entered the room. They had called her not too long ago, alerting her of an urgent matter- but even she couldn’t have guessed what this was about. 

“There’s been a security breach…” the head technician announced as she flicked across their various screens to show her. “They weren’t subtle about it, I’m not sure if they wanted us to know or if they just didn’t care, but-“ 

“What did they take?” Maria interrupted, trying to get to the point.

“That’s the thing… they bypassed all our important files, the only file they actually opened was the one containing the safe house addresses…” she looked up at Hill with an expression that could only be described as nauseous, “We tried calling Y/n, but there was no answer…,” she bit her lip as she finished, even she obviously expected the worst.

Maria’s jaw clenched. She knew Barnes was going to kill her as soon as he found out, but she couldn’t just keep it from him either- “Pull up the security footage of house #6… now. Right now….” Her pen clicked nervously in her hand as she waited for it to come up, her stomach dropping as she saw a dark SUV in the driveway, the front door left partially open, and the security panel completely down. 

“Rewind it…” she ordered, clicking her pen faster and- “Shit. This is…. Not ideal…” Maria said, obviously trying to keep her voice level and professional. 

She stood behind her technicians, watching the back-tracked security film play the video of trained agents pulling up to the safe house and shooting in the door. 

“Alert the team… I need to make a call.” 

She slowed the clicking of her pen as the phone rang, barely getting out one full ring before it was immediately answered.

“Where do I need to be?” His voice was low, anger barely being held back on its tight leash. He already expected the worst and unfortunately, this time he was right.

“Sargeant Barnes, we have a situation... I’m sending you the address now.”

————

Horns blared as Bucky swerved onto the shoulder, speeding past traffic as he made his way to the safe house. His knuckles were a ghastly white as he gripped the steering wheel like a vice, the creaking of steel beneath his hands the only thing keeping him connected to the present.

He should have never let Maria talk you into it, or at the very least he should have been there to help you. 

“Sergeant Barnes, we have a situation… I’m sending you the address now” Maria said.

“What kind of situation…?” His voice had been deathly low, barely restraining the anger it held. He made a beeline for the car as soon as he saw Maria’s name flash on the screen. He’d had his phone in hand all morning just for this exact scenario.

He could hear her frown through the phone and his skin burned with worrisome anger as she spoke, “HYDRA’s broken into the safe house… we’ve tried to contact Y/n but there was no answer. They’re still there, no one has left, and as far as we know there’s been no shots fired besides at the front door.”

He nodded curtly as he hung up, putting the car into gear and peeling out of the lot with a roaring screech of his tires. He couldn’t count the number of laws he broke as he tore through the city’s endless streets racing against an invisible clock.

Out of nowhere his arm jerked to the side, pulling him from his thoughts as he narrowly missed a stopped car before him. Stunned breaths caught in his chest as he realized what a close call it was, literally inches from disaster. 

His body had acted without thinking, moving almost like it had a mind of its own… it was only when the back of his mind began to itch and squirm did he know why. 

 “Shit...” he sighed. The Winter Soldier must’ve sensed what was going on, digging himself toward the forefront of Bucky’s mind to take over. Bucky was still in control for now, but he wasn’t sure how much longer it would last.

“I guess I owe you a thanks,” he begrudgingly mumbled to himself, focusing once more on the road ahead. He was just 25 minutes out and he prayed he’d get there in time.

Continuing down the road he shifted uncomfortably; the Winter Soldier’s presence didn’t fade, but it didn’t press any further either. It was almost like he was… waiting for permission? 

Bucky shook his head. 23 minutes out.

He knew you trusted the assassin, and after watching the videos of your last interaction he… trusted him too- to a point. But even with this iota of trust, his instincts still had him hesitating to relinquish control. What if it didn’t have a happy ending this time? What if he went too far? What if he couldn’t come back…?  The fear had been ingrained in him so long ago that he wasn’t sure he could ever fully give it up. 

But he may not have a choice anymore. If what Hill said was right then there were at least 6 agents waiting for him and he was completely unarmed. There was only one person he knew that could bring both of you out in one piece…

“Fuck,” Bucky swore. He knew what he had to do. Speeding passed the last car in his way, he pulled out into the empty straight-away before him. Bright blue eyes stared back at him through the rear-view mirror as he sighed, “Don’t make me regret this…” 

Pain rippled through his skull, ringing as if his head was stuck inside a church bell. Haze crept into his sight as the edges of his vision blurred and he let himself fully slide into the backseat of his consciousness. His shoulders shifted slowly, rolling as he gripped the steering wheel even tighter. The soft material caved under his metal fingers with a wretched creak, leaving ripples in the leather-covered metal. 

As the cloud of pain finally passed, burning away like early morning fog, he pulled the rear-view mirror down. A familiar dark aura surrounded his gaze as he watched himself, trained and sharp as he nodded to his reflection. 

He wasn’t Bucky anymore.

“Вы не будете [you won’t].” 

————

“No no no no…. Not right now, please. Anything, but this-“ you paused your mumbling as footsteps passed right in front of the room, “-Okay maybe not anything, but still….” 

You held your breath, tensing as another contraction passed through you and you willed yourself not to make a sound, but it was getting harder and harder each time. It dawned on you that you must have been having contractions this whole time. That pain in your back when you started driving down, the quaking of your belly, it was all a part of your labor- you just didn’t realize until your water finally broke.

Tears flowed freely from your eyes, not at the pain but at the horror of your situation; There was no way to get out without being seen, you were far too slow for that in your current state and you were bound to be bagged and shoved in a van as soon as they caught you. However, you couldn’t wait and hope to give birth in this closet either; the moment she comes out she’s going to be a screaming mess and then you’ll both be in a vulnerable state.

‘Where is Bucky…?’ You thought as tears clouded your vision, your fingers redialing him from memory alone even if you knew it would never go through, ‘please, please… I have to do something…’

You dug the heels of your palms into your eyes as you furiously rubbed the tears away, again trying to remain calm. ‘Okay, think… think… maybe I can slip out through the window…? If I’m quiet enough maybe I can take my time with it?’ You thought as you peeked through the slats in the closet doors. 

You hoped that the windows wouldn’t be locked as you looked down at your phone again, trying to time out your contractions, ‘Okay…. After the next one hits we’ll just make a break for the window.. that should be more than enough time to get myself out, right? Thank god I hid on the first floor.’

You waited until your next contraction hit, biting down on your lip to keep yourself quiet. You breathed furiously through your nose to try to keep your composure and began to taste iron as blood spilled into your mouth.  But you didn’t care- you couldn’t afford to.

“Shit, shit, okay…” you breathed as it finally passed, slowly shifting onto your hands and knees, reaching for the knob when- 

Click

You heard the door to the room click open and footsteps come inside. Quickly covering the gasp that threatened to escape, you eased back down slowly. Fear froze your entire body, you didn’t even realize when you started holding your breath, but you weren’t about to let it go now.

You wasted your time and now you were stuck here; dear god were you gonna die in a closet? This is not how you imagined yourself going. 

Through the slats in the closet doors, you watched the agent check the room, under the bed, under the desk- he had just started to leave when he stopped in front of the closet doors, his feet turning to face you.

Your heart squeezed painfully as every part of you waited with bated breath. You heard his hand fall on the knob. This was it. The moment he opened it he was bound to see you. You had nowhere left to hide. 

You only hoped it would be quick. 

You closed your eyes as you heard the closet door begin to open. You were sure you had been seen until- 

“Hm?” The agent said as he turned toward the commotion happening in the other room. His hand left the knob and you watched as his shadow quietly slink away toward the sound of growing struggle and gunfire. 

Was now your chance..?

BANG

‘NOPE!’ You screamed in your head as gunfire went off right outside the room's door, accompanied by the heavy thud of a body and cloth on tile as it was dragged away. Boots squelched against the hall's sleek floors, coming closer until they transitioned to the sound-absorbing carpet of the room. 

Braving a peek through the thin slats you saw blood-covered boots, different ones than the agent just before, but the same terror filled you as you noticed them facing you. 

Your breath burned as you held it still in your lungs, your whole body tense with anxiety. Did someone hear you? Did they know you were here? You had kept yourself so hidden, how did they know?

“Ты не сможешь спрятаться от меня, дорогая... Я узнаю свое солнце где угодно [you can’t hide from me, darling… I’d know My Sun anywhere].”

You knew that voice... You knew that voice..!

Cautiously, holding your stomach close you peeked past the sliver of an opening, “My Star…?” 

He was covered in smatterings of blood from his head to his boots, yet thankfully none of it seemed to be his own. Despite his slightly battered and blood-covered appearance, his darkened eyes swam with reverence and relief as his strange little smile shined brighter than his namesake. You couldn’t be sure exactly when the assassin’s persona had come out, but you were beyond glad he was here.

“My star!” You beamed and scrambled to your feet to launch yourself at the Assassin, only making it halfway off the floor before crumbling back into a tight ball. You yelled, tears flowing once more as you finally put voice to the pain of your contractions, they were coming on much quicker now. 

Obvious worry flashed across his face as he rushed in to catch you, gently easing you onto the floor. Hands roamed over you in a cursory search as he spoke, trying to find the source of your pain, “My Sun? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” 

You whimpered as the pain lingered, wisps of it swirling across your stomach and hips before finally settling away, “Ah…. No, I’m fine- mostly fin…” you shuddered as you clung tight to his arms, trying to stand. 

“I’ve got you…” The Soldier soothed with a murmur, his voice surprisingly sweet in your ear as he whispered soft words, “You’re okay now….” Careful eyes scanned over your body again as you were scooped off the ground by two strong arms, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he saw you were indeed unharmed. 

You couldn’t find it in yourself to care for the way blood stained your clothes and smeared across your skin as you were held fast against his chest. He held you like you were everything delicate about the world, and to him you were. Turning his face into your neck he breathed in every part of you- the fear, the sweetness, the grime, the love; he wanted to breathe in every moment that he had missed.

“My Sun, how long has it been..? You’ve grown so much…,” Adoration pooled in his once frigid eyes as they washed over you. As steady as he could manage he settled you on the small heap of pillows making their home on the bed. His large warm hand was like a godsend as he pressed it against your aching belly, his touch seeming to quell everything- even for just a moment. 

“4 months…” you replied, all your focus was on breathing through your nose while your hands absentmindedly went to remove your pants, finding difficulty when your nearly 9-month belly got in the way. 

“4 months… so this-” His voice paused as he stepped in to help remove your pants. His eyes cast down to your belly, seemingly searching for a moment before looking back up at you, and for once you saw the Winter Soldier’s darkened gaze filled with never-ending light. “I finally get to meet her..?” his voice was uncharacteristically soft as he spoke, his words filled with disbelief, “I get to meet our girl…?” he whispered as if he was scared that speaking too loud would surely jinx it. 

Your lips cracked into a small smile as you watched him, your heart fluttering all the more as he spoke in hushed tones. You nodded as you took his hand against your quaking belly, “It’s time… But I can’t do this on my own,” you looked up at him with big eyes, ones that spoke of urgency and need, “I don’t know if anyone else is coming, and I don't know if we have time to wait for them either,” you said, looking at him in hopes that he’d begin to understand. “I need you to help me when she comes, okay? I… I think I need you to deliver her.”

Light-filled blue eyes faltered as he looked from you to your stomach and back again. His hands were used to taking life from this world, not bringing it in. Not to mention that, unlike Bucky, He did not have the time nor the resources to read parenting books; he was completely unprepared for a mission like this and for once he actually found himself scared. 

“Ah… My Sun, I-” he started. What if he messed it up? What if he hurt her? … What if he really was only good at one thing- killing? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if this went wrong- and he knew his gentler half wouldn’t either.

“I’ll try to walk you through it, okay? Please?” you begged as you squeezed his hand. You were terrified, plain and simple, but between the two of you- you were the only one with hours of anxiety-filled Google searches under your belt and for now, that would just have to do.

His eyes shot back up to yours, searching your gaze for a moment before nodding, “Okay, My Sun… anything you ask…” he promised. And he did, anything and everything you asked of him he was quick to get, whether it was more pillows, washing the blood from his face, or giving you his hand so you could break it as you squeezed.

Your contractions began getting closer and closer until they were only mere minutes apart. Pain ripped through every fiber of your muscles, every shard of your bone, and every cell of your organs as your baby girl squirmed to be free. 

“I can’t… I can’t hold her in anymore…” you said wearily, your hair probably this way and that, but all you knew was how tired you were already. Your eyelids hung half-lidded as you looked up at him, pressing his cool metal hand further into your flushed cheek. You were a mess, you were damp all over and red in the face and grouchy beyond belief but you were still a shining sun in the vibrant sky of his blue eyes.

He nodded and quickly moved between your legs, not letting the sight phase him as he readied himself exactly as you instructed. He was going to be calm for you, despite the way the assassin inside him yelled that he was unprepared. He had done plenty of missions with only a sliver of knowledge to go on- he wouldn’t let it stop him now.

“You’ve done great, My sun. The long part is over and now you have just a little bit more,” he said, giving you words of encouragement- just as you instructed. “You're going to do amazing, and I know that she is going to be as perfect as you in every way,” Despite your request for encouragement there was nothing but complete honesty in his tone. He believed every word he said to you and for the first time in this entire pregnancy, you truly thought you could do this too. 

It took only 4 pushes and the cost of feeling in the Soldier’s fingers before the most blessed cries filled the air. Your baby’s sweet chubby face wailed the world’s sorrows as the Soldier held her delicately in his once-bloodied hands. Despite her red face and angry cries, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He would have taken down a hundred agents- a thousand if it meant he got to see her face for the first time again. 

“Моя прекрасная девочка... Несмотря на то, что ты плачешь и кричишь с первых вдохов, ты - самое замечательное существо, которое я когда-либо видел. [My beautiful girl… even though you cry and scream with your very first breaths you are the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen],” he whispered to her writhing little form, quickly cutting and tying the cord before wrapping her snuggly in your jacket. Her cries quieted and her kicking feet slowed to a stop as the soothing rumble of his voice reached her ears- almost as if she recognized it. 

After a few more frustrated grunts, her formerly closed eyes slid open. Radiant blue’s gazed back at him, like a still ocean they seemed to reflect his own perfectly. “У нее мои глаза... Дорогая, у нее мои глаза [She has my eyes… Darling, she has my eyes],” he looked up at you with a joy so innocent you could never have imagined the things he had done in his lifetime. There was another piece of him in the world now, a piece beyond the bloodshed and dark shadows he knew- something clean and new, and perfect.

Your heart swelled beyond measure as you watched the Winter Soldier hold his tiny daughter, his gaze filled with adoration as if he had never known anything less. He was a sight to behold as he leaned in, his forehead resting gently against her little one as she gazed up at him in wonder.

Despite the tiredness you felt deep in your bones you fought hard to stay awake, utterly transfixed by the scene before you. In all your life you couldn’t have imagined today going the way it did, but you couldn’t have asked for a better end to it. 

As you watched the once fearsome Winter Soldier laugh as she gripped his finger with all her might, you could think of nothing to do except pull your phone out and snap a photo- you were going to cherish this photo forever as a memory that would always last.

__________

Bucky Taglist:

@writingmysanity@simpxinnie@mirtaqueen@blackhawkfanatic@mcira@aagn360@nialiuwanderlust@waywardhunter95 @goldylions

thanks to everyone who wanted to be tagged this chapter! If you want to be added to the general Bucky taglist please DM me!

[differenteagletragedy]

Our Life Swap AU strikes again! Step 2, 13-year-old Baxter and MC being little goofy babies as always.

You were 13 when you had your very first kiss.

The circumstances were a little odd, and it didn't happen exactly how you imagined it -- for a while, you'd been thinking about Baxter, your best friend, declaring his love for you, giving you a sweeping romantic kiss while on the beach or in the field of poppies or in your room, lit by the moonlight after he'd climbed in your window.

Instead, it happened at a hotel after a game of spin the bottle.

Baxter had been invited to a birthday party for some kid from his private school. He hadn't wanted to go but his parents forced him -- something about the importance of building connections with the right people. He offered a compromise, telling them that he would go willingly and be a good boy as long as he got to bring you along. It seems like their desire for their son to cozy up with the right crowd was more powerful than their dislike of you, so they agreed.

They'd hired a car to take the two of you to the hotel where the party was being held -- a conference room had been rented out for he occasion. When you were dropped off, you followed Baxter inside, tugging anxiously at your sleeve.

"Are you sure it's ok that I'm here?" you asked him for probably the tenth time that day.

"Of course I'm sure," he answered, shooting you a smile as he offered you his arm. "Your my plus one. Definitely normal at parties like these."

You wish you felt as confident as he did, looking completely at ease in his grey suit, but you couldn't help but feel a small wave of panic building in your chest.

He navigated the way to the party without issue, and gave cordial nods to everyone he saw. It seemed like he knew a lot of people there, but he never left your side.

After a bit, you started to calm down. No one was mean -- the only people you knew that were as well-off as Baxter and his parents were Baxter and his parents, so you figured there was a two-out-of-three chance that every person you crossed paths with would be a jerk. There was a live band, nice drinks. It was shaping out to be a good evening.

It got better when Baxter asked you to dance with him.

"I'm sorry if this is a little stuffy," he said quietly as he held your hand, leading you out towards the area where other people were dancing. "I'm sure you've been to birthday parties that are a bit more lively than this."

"I'm having fun," you told him sincerely.

"More fun than you'd have at a normal kid's birthday party, with pizza and games instead of hors d'oeuvres and smooth jazz?"

"Yes," you said with a laugh. "Because I'm with you."

That seemed to perk him up a bit. He twirled you around, pushing you out before pulling you back to him.

Lately, Baxter had been struggling with his parents, more than usual. He hated the pressure they put on him to be a perfect gentleman, constantly on his best behavior, how they forbade him to be a child with flaws or shortcomings or the ability to make mistakes. How he was forced to go to parties like this one, not because he wanted to but because it would make them look good. How they'd rather break him down into what they wanted him to be instead of let him be the whimsical, free-spirited boy he was.

But no matter how hard Mr. and Mrs. Ward tried to crush that spirit, you saw it within him. You always had. You saw it then, as he twirled you again, this time with more flourish.

It was no wonder that you had such a crush on him.

A few more songs played, and you kept right on dancing with him, but you stopped when a boy came by and tapped Baxter on the shoulder. He leaned in and whispered something in his ear, gestured to a door off to the side, then went on to talk to someone else.

"What was that?" you asked him.

"It seems as though some of the kids are gathering in one of the smaller rooms," he told you. "We don't have to go if you don't want."

"What do you want to do?"

He paused for a moment, considering. He took a look around at the party, comprised of more adults than children. Then he smirked at you.

"It might be fun to see what they're up to."

Keeping a hold of your hand, he made his way to the door the boy had pointed out. When he led you through it, you were greeted by several kids around your age.

"We found this place out of the way," a girl said as you looked around at the room, which looked to be a much smaller meeting space than the main hall. "We thought it would be cooler to hang out here instead of around all the grown-ups."

When you brought your eyes from your surroundings down to the group of kids seated on the floor, you noticed that they were playing a game. A discarded champagne bottle had been set in the middle of a circle they'd formed.

"Want to play?" the girl asked.

You'd never played spin the bottle, and you were pretty sure Baxter hadn't either -- it felt like something he would have told you about. You shared a look with him that went on perhaps a beat too long before he shrugged and nodded. Space in the circle was made for the two of you, and you settled in.

Where you were inexperienced, it seemed like these other kids had been playing this game for a while. Whenever the bottle would land on someone, the spinner would lean in for a kiss on whoever the bottle had chosen, then they would take their turn spinning.

Baxter was laughing when everyone else laughed, and you tried to join in too, but you felt yourself getting nervous. What if you were about to have your first kiss?

As always, your best friend sensed your anxiety. He looked over at you, then whispered, "We can go if you want to, it's ok. I don't really want to kiss any of these people."

"Then why did you want to play?"

"I don't know," he said, "it seemed like a good 13th birthday activity. We can leave."

But before you could, a boy across the circle gave the bottle a spin, and it ended up pointing straight at you.

You looked up at the boy, surprised, but he was smiling. He sat up on his heels and leaned over to you, prepared to take his kiss.

"Stop," Baxter said quickly.

"What, why?" the boy asked. This was the first time there was an issue since you'd gotten there.

"We're leaving," he answered. He stood, then reached a hand down to help you up, which you took.

"That's not how it works," your would-be kissing partner complained. "The bottle landed right there, that's the rules, you kiss."

"The bottle is not law," Baxter scoffed.

The boy stood, clearly getting annoyed. Baxter easily moved to step in front of you.

"What's your problem?" he asked.

Baxter thought about eviscerating him, you could tell that much. But instead, he grabbed your hand again and left.

"What was that?" you asked as he was still leading you away. It wasn't until you were out of the event room and into the expansive lobby that he stopped.

"I apologize if that ..." he trailed off, running a hand through his hair. "You didn't want to kiss him, did you?"

"No," you said, quickly and truthfully. "But why did you leave?"

He pushed his hands into his pockets, trying to stop the nervous energy that coursed through him -- a move you knew well. His eyes darted around the lobby before settling on something behind you.

"Care to sit down?" he asked, walking past you before you could answer.

You followed him as he moved toward a fireplace on the far wall. He sat beside it, and you did the same. It might have been an odd activity for a summer afternoon in southern California, but the lobby was kept cool enough that the warmth was welcome.

Baxter crossed his legs and folded his arms over his lap. After a moment, he looked at you and said, "I've never kissed anyone."

"I haven't either," you offered.

He nodded, giving you a tight smile, then continued.

"I know," he said. "I left because I figured you didn't want your first kiss to be with a stranger in a room full of people, and I didn't want you to feel pressured to go through with it."

Baxter knew you down to the bone. You could tell him anything, but many times you didn't have to -- he already knew what you were feeling without saying a word. It was a beautiful connection. Almost magical.

"I didn't," you said. "I'd rather have my first kiss be with someone I care about, like someone I wouldn't regret, you know?"

He nodded, and stared into the fire. He paused, took a breath, then turned back to you.

Without a word, he placed a warm hand on your cheek. He leaned in, looking at your lips, then glanced up to meet your eyes. You nodded, barely believing what was going on but sure you didn't want him to stop.

And then there it was. He was kissing you. A soft, gentle kiss that was over as quickly as it had begun.

"Do you care about me?" he asked, still close, his voice barely a whisper.

"Of course I do."

"And you won't regret me?"

"Never."

"Well then," he said in a more normal voice, leaning back. His hand, shaky as it moved back to his hair, was the only thing that gave away his nervousness. "I feel the same way. I hope that was a nice first kiss."

"It was," you told him. "Thank you."

"That's what friends are for."

[yandere-paramour]

How would Atalanta feel about her darling wanting to raise their baby differently than Ata was raised? As in darling wanting the child to not think of the 'yandere, kidnapping, obsession' form of love as normal. Would she try to shut it down out of fear of her darling running away like her father tried to or compromise? I think it's really interesting to explore the conflicting emotions of loving Ata for being so kind, caring, and intelligent while also acknowledging that it isn't healthy to force someone into a relationship. Would she be able to understand that wanting their child to have a healthy understanding of courting and consent isn't her darling hating her? I love thinking about having a cute little family life with Ata, she'd love to dote on her two favorite girls. I can imagine that baby being the cutest little spoiled angel. It'd be so nice to forge a more cuddly, loving environment for Ata and her family<3

Atalanta would absolutely spoil her girls. They would always be seen in matching family outfits, looking pristine and perfect. Both of her sweet girls would always have the best of everything, and if the child started whining or tantrum-ing or otherwise acting like an irritated child, Atalanta would signal for the nanny to come forth and take the child somewhere else, to both maintain the image she carefully curates and allow the child to regulate themselves out of the spotlight.

I think if Darling was very, very careful with their speech and made sure to say over and over again how much they loved her and how happy they were with her, Atalanta might listen. She is smart, and she's not incapable of reason. If Darling was smart, they would wait quietly and not make any mention of their and Atalanta's... nontraditional relationship. When it came time for the child to be interested in romantic relationships and seeking advice, Darling would step in and impart their own ideals into the child's head, thus saving her Atalanta's advice.

Atalanta would of course know about this because she knows about everything, but if Darling and her daughter were happy, behaving, and staying at her side, she would be content to let things be. Why stir up trouble in her marriage and family when it's not needed? She would rather take them to dinner and have a nice night together.

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

post kryptonite arc for Luther

Luthor sends a gift to Conner which has a gift card that reads “here’s your baby blanket -love lex”

Conner: what

the Kent’s who are just vibing in the background: oh what’s it sweetie?

Conner: Lex sent me my baby blanket, wasn’t.. wasn’t I a test tube baby?

the Kent’s: honestly no idea ‘Kon sweetie I don’t know’

Conner: it’s a really nice blanket?? I just am so confused.

later a fair month later

Luthor rocks up to the Kent’s house and knocks on the door, it opens.

luthor: Son, I am so sorry for everything I’ve done, but I have to check your health and make sure your DNA isn’t dissolved or something.

Conner who opened the door since the Kent’s were out

Conner: Lex. *conner crosses his arms* go away.

Luthor: yeah, I know I’m not the best parent I could be. But I do need to make sure your genetic code isn’t compromised or something, you really should be testing for it every 2 weeks. It’s been 3 years, I just want to make sure my son is okay. *lex gives Conner puppy dog eyes*

Conner: you made me in a test tube I’m more superman’s son then yours.

luthor: I literally carried you for 12 months, I was there the day you were born was superman there when you took your first breath? first steps? Spoke your first words? No he wasn’t I was. Your as much my son as he is.

Conner: *completely baffled* what?

luthor: uh, don’t you know how difficult it is to make an artificial womb that WORKS? It was actually way easier to just carry you to term.

Conner: WAIT, WHAT?

luthor: I could not trust a random woman to carry something so precious, uh so I did obviously? *lex rolls his eyes* it’s way easier to just make a man have a kid than make an artificial womb, you know how hard it is to make one of those right? It’s genuinely harder than making any advanced ai or anything and when it’s easier and healthier and most importantly SIGNIFICANTLY CHEAPER to just carry a clone to term you do it. I don’t know what those justice league characters said to you but no it’s just so much work.

Conner: YOU WHAT?

Luthor: yeah obviously, why did you think half your dna came from me?

Conner struggling between retching or crying just stares

luthor: oh you don’t believe me, wait I have a few pictures in my wallet.

*lex shows conner an adorable candid shot of baby Conner playing with some blocks, and a photo of what looks like Lex in a hospital gown holding a tiny Conner, and one more of Lex showing Conner mercy and making Conner wave to her*

Conner: *shocked*

luthor: anyway why would I hurt my son after all? Seems kind of well, not even acceptable or useful. Honestly I just want to make sure you’re not dying. Those justice people are so bad at making sure people are healthy especially someone so unique as you son.

Conner: wait, does that mean your technically my mother?

luthor: yeah, doesn’t matter though does it?

Conner: my birth mother is you.

luthor: yeah obviously

Conner: well now I have a answer to all those pesky questions about who’s my birth mother, do you mind if I just call you lex because it’s gender neutral and no one will ask questions.

luthor: sure? Please son let me test your blood.

Conner: why did you put me in a test tube then?

luthor: ever heard of sudden infant death syndrome? Also I thought if I force grew you to adulthood you wouldn’t have to suffer through hormonal problems and all that, since you’re not exactly a stable organism I thought I’d save you from that hell. But yeah in retrospect it was pretty cruel to rob you of your childhood. You were a really cute baby though.

Conner: I have no idea what to do with this information.

luthor: so, *quickly pricks and draws Connor’s blood* I’ll be back in 2 weeks.

conner: WAIT YOUR JUST GOING TO LEAVE???

Luthor: yeah, see you in a fortnight bye son!

prev | current | next

[lvrhughes]

New Baby | J. Hughes

pairing: Jack Hughes x f!reader

word count: 0.5k

This was requested for Rowdy’s birthday!

not my gif!

You and Jack had a lovely 4 year old daughter already. She was the light of your lives but you knew you both wanted more than one. Jack's busy schedule just interfered a bit. Until it didn’t.

“Hey baby girl, can you come here?” Jack yelled through the house for your daughter, hearing her steps padding down the hallway quickly after. She was quick to jump onto Jack, him being quick to catch and spin her, filling the room with giggles.

“We’ve got something big to tell you, okay lovie?” She nodded at your words, looking to Jack to see him nod back at her.

“How would you feel about having a little brother or sister?” The words immediately brought tears to her eyes, a tantrum starting.

“NO!” she yelled

“Lovie, he or she will be your friend.”

“NO! I DON’T WANT!” She was quickly running to Jack's arm again, clinging to him.

“I don’t like you mama” the words broke you, the girl you had raised and given your love to telling you she didn’t like you.

Jack's sympathetic looks not doing anything, still holding the little girl who clung to him. You shook your head, hand placed in your stomach where your bump would appear soon, turning to walk out of the room.

“Baby” Jack called

“No, don’t bother. She only likes you now.” You were venomous with the words, shaking Jack a bit.

“Baby girl that was not nice.” The little girl cried a bit more.

“I don’t want to share you!”

“Baby girl, I will still be with you all the time, and so will mama.”

“I don’t like mama!” Jack pulled her back a bit, holding her out.

“You don’t speak about mama like that. You love her.”

“No! She wants a new baby! I’m not her baby anymore!” Jack understood it now.

“Baby girl, you’ll always be our baby.” He cooed, bringing her back closer. “Just now there’ll be another babe.”

“I don’t want another!”

“Baby girl, you gotta compromise here, me and mama want brother or sissy for you. You’ll always be our baby, you know that. Don’t get mad at mama for this.”

“But she’s having a baby!”

“Yes, and she’s going to give you a beautiful sibling. And you’ll always have someone to play with.”

“But I like playing with you and mama.” She looked on the verge of tears again.

“I know, baby girl, but when mama’s busy and I’m at work you’ll always have someone, and you can teach them all about hockey for me.” She grinned a little at the words, her love for hockey showing.

“Okay.”

“So you're okay now, baby girl?”

“Yes dada.”

“Good, now let’s go apologize to mama now, hmm?”

She nodded, staying attached to his hip while he walked to your room. You were on the bed, curled into a ball, crying.

“Oh baby,” he cooed, laying beside you “our baby has something to say.”

“I can't do this Jack.” You sobbed, Jack's heart wrenching at the sight.

“I’m sorry mama, I love you.” The little girl was quick to fit her way in between the two of you, snuggling against you.

“Baby, you are the strongest woman I’ve ever known, you can do this.”

“I love you both.” The words were whispered as you held your daughter close, Jack wrapping his arms around the both of you.

[smol4bluengine]

All was quiet at the Boxford's summer home, the couple were sleeping soundly in their bed, little Spencer doing the same from within the safety of his crib. However, the Duchess's slumber was disturbed when she heard glass shattering. She gasped awake, quickly looking around the room for any danger, when she didn't see anything, the Duchess immediately woke up her husband.

"I think someone might have broken in." She whispered.

Without another word, the Duke reached under the bed and pulled out a Cricket bat, his wife grabbed a lantern and lit it, arm in arm they left the safety of their bedroom and into the dark house.

Their first concern was Spencer, as quickly and quietly as they could, the couple anxiously made their way toward the nursery. They felt themselves go cold as they noticed the nursery door was open wider then it had been after the two had tucked Spencer in for the night.

From behind, the Duke could hear his wife's shakey breathing, she was scared and worried. The Duke took the lantern from his wife, readying to face any possible would be criminal. He too was shaking out of worry for the baby, as such he rushed into the room.

The nursery was dark, the Duke had to use the lantern to get his bearings, the Duchess staying close. At first everything seemed in order, but as they turned their attention to Spencer's crib, they found a hunched figure looming over it.

"Sssh, you'll wake the baby." The figure warned, their voice old and raspy.

With the stranger so close to Spencer, the Duke couldn't risk threatening the stranger for Spencer's safety.

"Please, we'll give you anything you want, just let our..." The Duke was cut off.

"Oh, I could never hurt the little ones, especially the ones I created." The stranger said as they cooed over the sleeping form of infant Spencer.

The figure stepped away and turned to face the couple, revealing that their intruder was a little old woman.

"I see that you two are utterly bamboozled by what I just said, so allow me to clarify." The old lady said.

"I was the one who sent out the orbs that turned Sodor's steam engines into human infants. Names Mabel, nice to meet you." Mabel introduced.

There were so many questions, but the royal couples focus was on the well-being of Spencer. Mabel saw that their attention was on Spencer, as such, she stepped further away from the crib, allowing the Duchess to rush over and swoop the infant into her protective embrace. Now that Spencer was safely with them, the Duke felt confident to confront the intruder known as Mabel. "Why did you do this?! How did you do this"?! The Duke snarled. "Simple my dear duke, magic. As for why, well that is a very, very long story." Mabel replied.

"Just tell us, please." The Duchess begged. Mabel thought for a moment. "There's not that much time to explain everything, but I guess I can give you the short version." Mabel compromised. "Basically, I am what you people would call a witch, my family are natives to Sodor and have been here dating back to even before the arrival of king Godred. My people believed that the island was alive, that it could breathe life into anything inhabiting it, as such we took care of the island, being careful whenever we built, hunted, cooked, and destroyed to expand our settlements. This island allowed us to live on it, it was only fair for us to return the favor to care for it. However, things became...complicated with the arrival of Godred. For the following centuries after his and his people's arrival, we struggled to protect this island from their destruction, but they were better equipped than we were. When the first steam engine arrived, everyone was blown away to witness the engine come to life, for my people this only confirmed the magic within this island. Although, the engines were built from lands far away, their inner being was birthed here on this island and as such my people labelled these engines as the first born, the true inhabitants of Sodor. Because of this my people treated them as we would treat each other, to us they were our equals, they were our family. However, the rest of Sodor's inhabitants didn't see the first borns in the same light, even though they were alive the others still saw them as tools, yes, they did treat them kinder because of their life, but at the end of the day they were only machines to the Sudrians. My people tried to reason, we tried to show both them and the engines that they were something more, but then that darn Awdry appeared. Within a fortnight he cemented the rules of the railway and how the engines should see themselves and be seen. The first born no longer had desires to be something more, no, from then on they were confined to happiness as just being "really useful". Mabel Explained, feeling sickish as she uttered the words "really useful". "But why target us? Spencer was our private engine." The Duchess asked. "The question is why not target you? You had a private engine, one that probably didn't get to work as much as the others, or interact with others and as a result, I imagine it made rather pompous, correct"? Mabel asked. The Duke and Duchess nodded. "So, why shouldn't he be a human? Why shouldn't he be a part of your family? Especially, after...." Mabel paused, staring at the Duchess dead straight into her eyes. "The loss you went through"? Mabel continued. The Duchess of Boxford was sobbing, holding Spencer close as her husband held onto her. "H...How do you know about that? We...We never made that public." The Duke asked bewildered. "You didn't, but I can see that pain in your eyes, that longing and joy you two felt as you held Spencer as a human for the first time." Mabel said. She looked at the clock on the well. "I'm sorry to intrude, but it is getting late, and I have been getting off topic as to why I am here." Mabel said. "I've arrived to give you two a choice, a final decision on Spencer's fate. You see tonight will be the night if Spencer will go back to his old life as an engine or start over a new as your son." Mabel explained. "Why aren't you letting Spencer decide? It's his life your interfering with"? The Duchess asked. Mabel snorted in laughter. "Because the others and him never got a say in anything before. It was you humans who decided where they should go, what trains they should pull, and if or not they should be scrapped! So, if all of you can make those decisions then you should have no qualms making this one to"! Mabel snorted. "And that time starts, now"! Mabel said.

With a snap of her fingers everything changed. No longer were they in their summer home, the Duke and Duchess now found themselves in a starry void of sorts. Spencer had been teleported away and replaced with a rope the couple were now holding, as something heavy tried to pull them forward in a scary game of tug of war. Once the two saw what it was, they were in disbelief. There, tied up by the other end of the rope and standing on a steep decline of rails was Spencer, or at least his engine body. The A4 was completely faceless. From all around them, the Duke and Duchess could hear Mabel speak. "This is a very simple game, if you want Spencer to be your private engine again, simply drag the flag tied on the rope over the marked rail and I'll have him back to his old self by tomorrow morning. Though, should you two decide that Spencer is better off as a human, then you simply....Let go." Mabel explained. The two struggled as the heavy engine began rolling backwards. "We need to make a decision now"! The Duke said as he struggled to keep hold of the rope. He looked back over towards his wife, her eyes still crying, but her intent was clear. The Duke hugged his wife with one arm, the two close in a one-armed embrace. They looked sadly back at the engine, the Duke coupled his hands over his wife's and together....They let go. With nothing holding it back, the A4 began to pick up momentum and went over the decline, quickly descending into a black abyss. There was a flash and in an instant the Boxford's found themselves laying on the floor of Spencer's nursery, Mabel was nowhere in sight. Spencer was safely back in his crib but was now crying from his sleep being disturbed. Instantly, the Duke and Duchess got on their feet and rushed over to his aid, they gasped as they saw Spencer. His hair was fading from silver to the Duchesses hair color, his grey eyes were now the same color of the Duke's. Nevertheless, the two comforted him, their son.

[thegreymoon]

The Story of Minglan

Aww, he has only one baby left 😢

***

LOL, and WHERE exactly are you personally going to look?

Are you going to go up and down the whole of China?

I feel bad for laughing when he said this. That poor baby.

***

Changbai asking the intelligent questions.

***

LMAO, I am stealing this excuse to get out of attending weddings in the future 🤣🤣

"I love you and I'm sorry, but I don't want to jinx you with my presence!"

***

Just when I thought we had finally rid ourselves of stupid people, they had to bring this moron back.

On her birthday, too!

Watch this blow up on Minglan somehow, smh.

***

LOL, she is one hundred steps ahead of him.

He just looks stupid.

***

LOL, is he saying he didn't pass because he wasn't married?

What a loser, OMG.

***

Honestly, this is the most his parents were ever going to be willing to compromise on and even then, I doubt the mom would have been happy.

***

Wait, she agreed?

Is it a scheme??

***

Hm.

Doubt.

***

Being a servant in this mess seems hard.

Imagine getting caned to death because of your employer's stupid love life. Which, again, is why Qi Heng annoys me so much. When all this blows up in his shitty face, it will not be him facing the consequences. It will be his poor manservant and Xiaotao paying with their life (and possibly Minglan too, depending on how bad the fallout is).

***

He doesn't love you.

He loves only himself and his ego and you are a nice, shiny toy that he wants but cannot have.

***

Well.

It certainly did not take him very long to find trouble.

***

NOOOO, NOT THE HORSE!

SHOOT HIM, BUT DON'T SHOOT THE HORSE!!

***

Here I am, getting all impressed over his exceptional martial arts skills, completely forgetting that he has been a trained fighter since childhood. That boat scene where his teen self up and murdered a dozen assassins remains one of the highlights of this drama for me.

***

I have no idea who these people are and what is going on.

I remember that there are two princes fighting to be named imperial heirs, but their names were something starting with Y?

***

Aww, he made new friends! 🤗

I will do my very best to remember your names and figure out who the hell you are, but I am making no promises.

***

LOL, he's back to using his old alias?

But, honestly, with a father like that, I too would be tempted to take up my mother's maiden name and run with it.

***

LMAOOOO, truly embarrassing 🤣🤣

She stomped her feet and threw a tantrum like a toddler.

I am so done with these useless maids with no boundaries.

***

I too once stood under the balcony of my house sobbing and wailing at the top of my lungs, for everyone to hear, because the boy I liked was leaving and also didn't like me back.

I was six years old at the time.

***

Oof, this won't end well for them 😬

Nanny Liu is in the other room, drinking tea!

***

OMG, Minglan is out for blood 💀💀

This will not end well for Ke'er.

[extasiswings]

I said this to others already, but to me this finale had a lot of 4x14 vibes tbh. Season 4 was severely hindered in it’s production due to COVID and i am, to this day, convinced that that’s also what made them tie it up with such a neat little bow before (at least in Bucktaylors case) undoing a lot of it immediately as season 5 rolled around. Essentially giving everyone the happiest ending they feasibly could.

And there’s something to be said about how mainstream tv seems to think that “happy ending” always equals “in a romantic relationship” whether or not the relationship itself is developed or healthy at all, but for two characters with character arcs so intertwined with their love life, it does make sense.

The thing is, to me this makes sense. Am I thrilled? No. But I’m excited to see what they do because I understand how this fits with the rest of the season and I’m not worried about it.

There were three big themes circling around Buck and Eddie all season. 1) missing the things that are right in front of you; 2) fantasy vs reality; and 3) Fear holding you back/preventing you from living your life. All three of these themes are tied together and need to be worked through to get to a place of Buddie canon and Buck’s “I’m already Christopher’s father” realization. But the last one is arguably the most important in order to get to the heart of the others and that’s where I feel like Marisol and Natalia come in.

Buck and Eddie both started the season single. But not because they necessarily wanted to be, because they were afraid not to be. Afraid to put themselves out there, afraid of being rejected, afraid of making mistakes. But being single out of fear is not the same thing as wanting to be alone or being comfortable with your life as it is, it’s just letting fear control your life. So the way I see it, if they had ended the season still single, that would have changed nothing from where they started.

For Eddie especially, this is a baby step but a necessary one. Whatever happens with Marisol, Eddie’s going to wind up on the other side with some confidence in himself and his ability to be a romantic partner and that’s what he needs to ultimately be secure enough to put himself on the line and really be honest with Buck. It’s low-stakes, it’s fluff, but I think it’s good for him.

For Buck, I disagree with the idea that he is inherently repeating the same mistakes. Yes, it’s not an auspicious start, but we as the audience see things that Buck doesn’t, and also there are some pretty key differences between Natalia and Taylor. With Taylor, they had a preexisting relationship. Buck knew going in all of the things about her that were dealbreakers for him, and instead of being true to himself, he told himself that he could “learn to live with it” and stayed with her for a year. With Taylor, he knew she was fundamentally a person whose values conflicted with his going all the way back to Dosed. He never should have dated her to begin with.

By contrast, he’s been on exactly three dates with Natalia. He barely knows her, and by all accounts she seems like a perfectly nice person even if someone who isn’t ultimately going to work for him (which is something that has been projected to the audience, but not for Buck). She hasn’t done anything wrong (it was pretty reasonable for her to feel overwhelmed and leave when Kameron crashed their date) and there’s nothing about her so far (in her personality or otherwise) that shows Buck is compromising himself and settling. Right now he’s clinging to a woman he wanted to date and get to know better anyway because she wants to be with him too and he’s feeling vulnerable—okay? He wanted to be with her though, I didn’t get the impression this was just about him being afraid to be alone (the way I felt about BT all through S4-S5). If they’re still together after the hiatus when they’ve known each other for more than five minutes and been on more than three dates, and we have actual evidence of him compromising himself where he shouldn’t? Then I’ll be agree that he’s repeating the same mistakes. But if anything right now I’m assuming this is his chance to prove his growth when he is ultimately put in a position to do better—that when something significant comes up he will be comfortable enough with himself to break things off instead of settling for what he doesn’t want. In the meantime, idk about y’all, but it takes me more than three dates to figure out if someone I’m interested in is going to be a good fit for me in the long run. And in a similar vein to Eddie needing to gain some confidence in his ability to be a romantic partner, I think Buck needs to be able to prove to himself that if he’s put in a situation where he’s settling, he’s capable of walking away. And for both of them I think those are important steps for them to take before they’re ready to be together.

[celestial-grls]

Sweet Treat / Robin Buckley x fem!reader

summary: blurb based on this post because I couldn’t stop thinking about it, also I 100% believe Robin has a huge sweet tooth and always wants something sweet late at night word count: 1.7k  a/n: my first time writing smut and hardly proofread so please be nice ok mwah mwah

You both make it a point to have dinner as much as possible together, but sometimes it just will not work. However, you guys always had dessert together. Even if it was 1 AM and you both had a long night, it felt wrong to skip having dessert together. Due to her notorious sweet tooth, it was mostly Robin’s habit that trickled into your daily routine. She’d finish washing her face but want company down in the kitchen while she ate her ice cream so you’d come down with her. If you guys couldn’t eat dinner together, this was the only time you’d have to ask about one another’s day. Sometimes even when you were eating dinner together, you guys would be too caught up talking about something else entirely that you’d completely forget to ask about each other. Never on purpose, but Robin and you are not immune to gossiping. 

Tonight is no different. Robin uses a special ice cream scooper that you got engraved with her initials on it for your first anniversary to scoop heaps of ice cream into her bowl. She even makes you a bowl, taking extra care to pick a good maraschino cherry to garnish yours with. She’s freshly showered, wearing a big t-shirt of yours while her hair dries. She’s walking back and forth from the fridge to the kitchen counter, where you’re sitting, in her white socks that she’s scrunched down. She’s telling you about some snags she hit with the production of a student film. 

You’re really trying your best to listen to her, but it’s so difficult when she sounds like that. The worst part is that she’s not even trying. She just has a voice that sounds like smoke. It’s low, and she rasps, and when she’s getting into what she’s talking about it goes high and carries these cracks that make your brain go fuzzy. And her nipples are hard against your old college t-shirt that she’s wearing. And you’ve been thinking of feeling her wrapped around you since you left for work in the morning and she was still sleeping, her hair on your pillow. 

Robin’s telling you between bites of ice cream, “...it’s not like I haven’t tried to compromise with them. I don’t know. What do you think, baby?” 

You haven’t been paying attention. You’ve been absentmindedly eating your ice cream, just listening to the sound of her voice and not the actual words. There’s no way to even pretend like that wasn’t the case, because Robin can tell when she looks at you. 

“I’m sorry, Rob. Okay? I wasn’t listening, baby. I’m sorry. But it’s your fault. It’s your stupid voice.” You’re pouting slightly, and Robin knows what you mean when you call her voice stupid. 

Robin moves from where she was leaning against the kitchen sink to step closer to you and stand between your legs as you sit on the counter. She’s taken both your now empty bowls of ice cream and moved them aside, placing cold fingertips on the inside of your knee. “My voice?” Robin’s asking, just so she can hear you elaborate. 

“Yeah. I wish you sounded like Kermit or something so I wouldn’t want to jump your bones every time you open your mouth.” You’re mostly kidding, settling your hands at the nape of her neck and feeling her damp hair on your fingers. Then Robin starts to laugh. 

“God, don’t laugh! That’s even worse than when you talk. I hate what it does to me.” You’re doing a horrible job at scolding her. Because whatever blood flow was rushing to your brain has since abandoned your brain and moved elsewhere. 

“Aww, it’s okay Y/N. But really, what are we gonna do about this?” She’s evil. She’s torturing you, and worst of all, she’s enjoying it. She’s tracing little shapes on your inner thighs now and rubbing her nose against the column of your throat, just staying there. Her head is right under your nose, you can smell her shampoo and you’re losing more of the little grip you had on reality before. 

You duck your head under to kiss her earlobe. “I don’t know. I’d have to fuck you with earplugs on, I guess.” 

Robin is so vocal, she always has been. You can hear all her little sighs and feel her lips curling up into a smile against your throat. She starts nipping at your collarbone and kneading her hands against your hips. Once she feels you shiver she stops and you immediately whine a little, missing her teeth on you. She looks at you and says, “But you love my voice too much to do that.” You’re so needy, and you’ve had enough of her teasing. So you finally kiss her, licking into her mouth. She tastes like the ice cream you both just ate and you can’t stop. She rakes her hands up your t-shirt, brushing a thumb across your nipple. You feel all the air move out of your lungs. But it’s still not enough, you want more. You’re desperately moving as close to Robin as possible, ass right at the edge of the kitchen counter. Robin’s the first to pull away and catch her breath. With her face a little flushed, you already miss the warmth of her cheeckbone against your skin. She pulls one of her hands away from your breast to brush her thumb against the pillow of your bottom lip. “Can you open for me, baby?” 

You love putting her fingers in your mouth, you love it even more when she’s asking you to. You obediently suck on her fingers. She’s almost cooing at you, she even starts brushing your hair away from your face. “There you go. Y’look so pretty.” 

When she says stuff like that it makes you wet instantly. You can feel yourself dampening, almost embarrassed about the effect she has on you. You pull your mouth off her fingers to say, “I’ve been thinking about you all day. And you’re in my t-shirt. Seriously baby, what’s your problem?” You whine at Robin because she hasn’t touched you where you want yet. 

She does this exaggerated gasp that only makes you wetter. This woman has a death wish against you. “Lucky for you, I like it when you’re a little mean,” She inches her hands just a little higher, hooking her fingers inside your panties but still not touching your clit. It’s the slowest few seconds ever until she finally palms at your center. “What are you so wet for, hm?” Robin asks as if she doesn’t know the answer. 

You’re touching her wherever you can but it still doesn’t feel like enough. Your knees are hitched up right where her hips are, and you’re squeezing the curve of her ass to try and get her as close as she can possibly get to you. You sigh against her, “Don’t make me say it…” 

“Please?” She has the most devilish look in her eye when she adds the next part, “For me?” Then she dips her fingers in your panties and starts rubbing circles into your clit. It feels so good you start rolling your eyes back. 

“I hate you,” You tell her while sloppily kissing the flat of her forehead. 

She’s sucking little love bites into the side of your neck. She is filled with cockiness as she says, “No, you don’t.” She easily dips her fingers inside of you. You gasp against the feeling of your cunt being filled by her fingers. 

“Baby, give me your fingers,” You’re requesting for her fingers back in your mouth, needing something to suck on while you ride her fingers against the kitchen counter. This is so dirty, you both know it. But you both are too horny to care, as she keeps pumping her fingers in and out of you. You can feel her nipples rub against yours, losing your mind at the friction. Robin brings her thumb to your clit, rubbing circles into it torturously slow. You’re moaning around her fingers in your mouth and keeping your eyes glued to her, counting all the freckles between her eyes. 

“You sound so good. You’re doing good, baby.” 

“Think, fuck, think I need those earplugs,” You tell her because if she keeps talking to you like this you’ll combust. 

Since Robin loves to watch you squirm, she brings her lips right up against your ear and whispers, “Should I be quiet? Would you like that better?” 

The little puffs of air against your ear, Robin’s hair grazing the side of your face, the way her eyes keep opening a little wider and wider to look at you, having her like this still isn’t something you’re used to. When she hits that spot inside you that makes you squirm, you take a second to recalibrate yourself before saying to her, “You’re so cocky tonight, how come?”

Robin makes a good effort to pretend to think while she just takes you closer and closer to the edge, all your senses blurring more and more the longer she goes on for. She keeps chasing the same spot above your breast with big kisses, sweetly reminding you that she can be both doting and drive you insane. 

Ultimately, she is too eager of a lover to truly be a tease. “Not cocky, just know who I have,” she starts rubbing circles into your clit a little faster, making you arch into her, hard nipples right against Robin. You’re falling a part quickly, Robin is pulling out little whimpers from short sighs, all you want is for her to keep talking you through it. “She’s pretty great, but she’s always saying she hates me,” Robin fake pouts at you.

You’re clench as she fingers you deeper. With a maon you tell her, “Fuck, I don’t-don’t think she hates you right now.” 

Robin smirks, her lips pulling up in the corners and attaching themselves to your collarbone, her final move to drive you insane and right to the edge. “Stay right there, you’re almost there,” It’s only a matter of moments until Robin speeds up and brings you over the edge. That clenching in your stomach releases and you let out one more moan right against the shell of Robin’s ear, carding your fingers through her still-damp hair. 

“God, fuck,” You’re still catching your breath, missing Robin’s fingers in you already. You look at her with that dazed and moony-eyed expression you get after she makes you come. 

Robin’s already smiling and looking too pleased with herself. After a little pause she says, “Still need those earplugs?”

With equal parts adoration and annoyance you tell her, “You’re insufferable,”