#someone please ive been laughing at him

[25shadesoffebruary]

Kang + being grossly smitten

[theboardwalkbody]

Richard Ayoade in Last One Laughing (UK)

[kerizaret]

I know i like to joke around that haha tsukasa scared of bugs haha funny loser, but please do remember and be mindful of people irl with fears that might seem silly or petty to you, because you never know how it truly makes them feel

[hotroadkill]

today 2 years ago i was in america and i had the worst hangover of my life and i was in a waffle house with my friend in awkward silence bc we’d fought in a stranger’s kitchen the night before and the server refilled my water for the 5th time while i fought to swallow half a forkful of hashbrowns and she said “i know that look, y’all had a good time at the superbowl last night” and i was thinking actually we had a mediocre time at a nerd bar where u throw darts and all the drinks r named weird things and anyway my friend gives the fakest laugh ive ever heard followed by “yep we sure did” like are we in a CW show right now what was that line delivery and also what even is the superbowl i was born here and should know but honestly i’ve always just pictured everyone gathering at a comically large bowl of cereal but her nametag says leslie and she’s really nice and she’s refilling my water for the 6th time so yeah sure whatever i’m a red blooded american i’ll be anything for leslie in this moment and she tells us stories about working at bars downtown and my friend tells me bad jokes and i feel a little better even though my heart is kind of withering away because my flight is in 17 hours and theres not enough time never enough time i won’t see him for another year and a half and i won’t ever see leslie again and if i ever run into the italian stranger who fell in love with me over darts then it won’t be the same because we won’t be dancing and i’m sitting in a waffle house while the sun sets and i’m sweating gin and tequila and my flight is in 16 hours and i have so many goodbyes to say in this

city because when i was fifteen somebody threw my glass heart onto the floor of my childhood house and bits of it shattered everywhere and fell into the cracks of the floorboards and behind the fridge and i’ll never ever get them out much less back together but i feel like ive been trying for eight years all the same and my flight is in 15 hours but maybe if my friend brings me home now i can spend three of those looking for more shards even though i’ll cut my hand because time never wore down any of the hurt because time might heal wounds but it cant really do jack shit about a metaphysical glass shard its still gonna make me bleed and my friend brings me home and we curl up beside each other in my childhood bedroom thats too small for us it was really a supply room but it became my bedroom when i was eleven and i painted it blue and put up stickers of fish and never took them down but someone someday will take them down and hopefully the house burns to the ground before anyone can touch them theyre mine i grew up here theyre mine dont touch them dont please dont please please please i grew up here and my flight is in 12 hours now because i fell asleep beside my friend and he let me because he knew i needed it he kept watch even though we dont have time we never do because he has to go now and all i can give him is a hug and my hoodie to keep safe until i can see him again and fight him in a stranger’s kitchen again and the sun is gone now and i go and i sit with my dad and my flight is in 10 hours and im trying

not to cry im trying to stare at the stickers because maybe if i look at all of it hard enough i’ll get to stay but i dont because thats not how it works and now my flight is in 4 hours because i fell asleep in my childhood loft bed and now i have to leave i have to pack up and go for the fifth time and it never never gets easier and i know i only have a few more trips left until someone takes my stickers down and paints over my ocean but for now my best friend’s stepmother comes with me and my dad to the airport because my best friend is in college two states away and my flight is in 3 hours and i cry i cry so much and she cries too because she loves me and i think it is such a beautiful blessed thing that i am so loved but oh it is so painful too because i spend more time in its absence than its presence and my flight is in 2 hours and i have to go and my dad is waving goodbye and i see it because i looked back because im stupid i always look back i never look forward i’m forever walking blind through my life because i’m looking back and i can tell my dad is crying and now i have to go through TSA sobbing and it’s awkward because they ask are you okay kid and im not but i cant tell them sorry its just that when i was fifteen somebody threw my glass heart onto the floor of my childhood house and bits of it shattered everywhere and fell into the cracks of the floorboards and behind the fridge and i’ll never ever get them out i cant tell them that so i nod yes im okay and i go and my flight is in 1 hour and i hope it fucking crashes and my flight is in the air and im so far away from all those shards on the kitchen floor now but they’re hurting me all the same and i think i look kind of insane sobbing in the middle seat but how can i miss so many people and so many rooms at once and not lose my mind a little bit? i was going to tell you a short witty little joke about the time i realized i was 21 and didnt know what the superbowl was but i think i slipped on a shard. i’m sorry. maybe next time i’ll get it right. maybe in another two years. maybe you’ll never see me again. maybe this is all the time we had.

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

Obsessed with your Dr. Robby writing!!! I need to see your take on obviously jealous Robby where a patient flirts with the reader while she fixes him up and everyone picks up on it the jealousy (and find it hilarious) except the reader who is just like “???”

Tension at The Pitt

Pairing: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavich x Surgeon!Reader

Summary: Being a surgeon at The Pitt meant handling chaos with a level head. You were used to high-pressure situations, fast decisions, and—unfortunately—inappropriate comments from trauma patients. What you weren’t used to was Dr. Robby getting tense over it.

The moment they wheeled the trauma patient into the ER, you knew it was going to be a long night.

Gunshot wound, mid-30s, conscious but way too cocky for someone actively bleeding out.

“You’re a pretty one,” the guy grunted as you checked his vitals.

You didn’t react. Didn’t even look at him. Just focused on stabilizing him. “BP’s low. We need to get him to the OR.”

But he wasn’t done.

“I must be dying,” he groaned dramatically. “Because there is no way an angel like you is real.”

From across the room, you heard the sharp snap of gloves.

You felt it before you even saw it—Dr. Robby stiffening beside you, shoulders tensing as he prepped the IV line.

You ignored both of them. Kept working.

But the patient loved an audience.

“Come on, Doc,” he said, shooting you a weak grin. “Let me take you out after this. I mean, after you save my life, obviously.”

“I’m literally about to crack open your chest,” you deadpanned.

“Damn,” he groaned, wincing as you adjusted the pressure on his wound. “I love a woman in control.”

That’s when Robby’s jaw clenched. Tight.

You didn’t see it, but you felt it in the air, the quiet but dangerous shift in his energy.

Still, you stayed focused. “Get the OR prepped,” you ordered.

He looked between you and Robby—who was now standing very still, his hand flexing at his side like he was trying very hard not to react.

And then the patient let out a breathless laugh. “Woah, man. What are you—her boyfriend or something?”

The room froze. Silence. Thick, loaded silence.

You didn’t stop working. Didn’t even blink. But you felt everyone’s eyes shift to Robby.

The patient was smirking, but it was weaker now. Like he had finally clocked the tension in the room.

Robby inhaled slowly, carefully. Then, in the calmest voice you’d ever heard from him, he muttered—“Let’s just focus on keeping you alive, alright?”

His tone was light, controlled, but there was something dangerous underneath. Something that made the patient’s grin drop. Something that made your pulse spike—because you knew Robby. And you knew exactly what that reaction meant.

The second the gurney disappeared through the OR doors, the ER fell into a weird silence. No one was saying anything, but you could feel it—the barely-contained smirks, the stolen glances, the way nobody wanted to be the first to break.

Until, of course, someone did.

“Okay,” Dana finally said, pulling off her gloves with a snap. “So we’re just… not gonna talk about that?”

You exhaled through your nose, giving her a look. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Dana snorted. “Oh, please.”

You sighed. “Dana—”

“No, no, I wanna hear this,” Dr. Collins said. “I mean, not to read into anything, but—”

“But you’re gonna read into it anyway?” you interrupted, raising a brow.

Dana grinned. “Duh.”

You rolled your eyes, reaching for your chart, fully prepared to ignore this conversation forever.

But then—“That patient was so right,” Javadi muttered.

You froze. Robby, who had been standing at the sink washing his hands, froze too.

Javadi hesitated. “I just mean—the energy? It was giving, like… jealous boyfriend.”

Silence. Your stomach flipped.

Because that wasn’t just a casual statement but an open challenge. And before you could deflect—before you could handle this��Robby turned.

Dr. Robby. The cool, collected, always-in-control attending. Except right now he didn’t look collected at all. He looked pissed. Not at you. At himself.

He grabbed a towel, drying his hands too aggressively before muttering, without even looking at you—“Yeah? Well, maybe that’s because I am.”

A collective inhale.

You blinked. “What?”

Robby tossed the towel onto the counter, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “You heard me.”

The room was dead silent.

Then—“Oh, shit,” Dana whispered under her breath, eyes wide.

The interns gawked. Your brain stalled. Because what the hell had just happened? You were used to subtle tension. Used to stolen glances and things left unsaid. But this wasn’t subtle.

This was Robby snapping—publicly, in front of everyone—and you had no idea what to do about it.

[clockwayswrites]

Die Screaming, Live Laughing

Danny/Tim, Cyan, Wind through tree branches/Windchimes @wisteriavines @darkstarsapocalypse (I saw you before you changed that! Twins!)

cw:bar parent fentons, more temporary character death, bones

The faint, mechanical whir under his fingertips as he spins the camera lens comforts Tim. The fiddling is familiar from the years of following Bats and crime across the city. The rooftops of Gotham are an environment that he’s far more familiar with than here. Here is nothing but endless trees and leaves.

Well, somewhere here is also the campgrounds and Bernard, Ives, Steph, and Cass; but that’s far out of sight and almost out of mind. It’s easy, as he listens to the wind rustle through the trees, to feel like nothing exists but the trees and Tim and his camera.

He spins the lens again.

Ostensibly, the four of them are in these woods to find Mothman. Which would be cool! But even Tim, who proposed this whole thing, knows that it’s just an excuse for the four of them to do something away from Gotham. To do something to make actual use of their summer between high school and college.

If Tim went to college, that is.

He’d been accepted, sure, but he… he just didn’t know if he wanted to. It felt like there were more important things to be doing than college. College was sitting in a classroom and listening to someone drone on about a subject that Tim could crash course himself on with the right library access in a month. It also meant new people and new noises and maybe even a new home. None of that sounds great, really. Moving in with Bruce to Wayne Manor had been enough change, thank you very much.

Tim’s foot catches on something and he does a half step to keep his balance. He expects to see a tree root when he glances down. It’s bone instead. That’s not… unexpected. They had already seen deer in the woods, the creatures got stupidly close to the campsite. It would make sense that with the big rains the few weeks before, there could have been old remains uncovered. But there’s something…

The dirt brushes away easily from the surface of the bone and, with a little digging, Tim is able to pull it free of the earth.

This isn’t a deer bone.

Tim knows this shape.

This is human. A femur.

“You have to be careful where you’re walking out here.”

Tim stands and spins, the femur held like his staff would be.

The speaker is leaning against a tree several feet away. The golden, setting sun backlights them, making them look almost angelic with how they’re wreathed in light. They’re hard to look at.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Tim says, plastering on a nervous smile that was only half for show. How did they sneak up on him? That should have been impossible with the leaves and branches scattered across the forest floor. “Do you run into animal skeletons a lot out here?”

“Not really,” they say with a shrug before they start forward towards Tim. Their steps are silent. “I don’t really get around. And also, that’s not an animal skeleton.”

“No?” Tim’s grip on the femur tightens. “How do you know that?”

“How? Well, that’s because it’s mine!”

Tim swings.

The femur goes right through the stranger.

“Sorry! Little intense, I get it!” They back up a step and raise their arms. The dappled sunlight shines right through their hand. Shines right through them like the stranger is just made out of gossamer. “I get it, but be careful with that, please? It’s my arm! Or leg? No, leg.”

“Leg, it’s a femur,” Tim says, his mouth running without him as his brain works.

“Leg. Ancients, I miss having legs. And arms… and, well, anything solid really,” the stranger sighs. “I am sorry for scaring you. Just… it’s hard not to get a little intense when someone is holding one of my bones, you know?”

“Oh shit! That’s right, sorry,” Tim stammers as he hurries to put the femur back down on the disturbed earth. “Do you— I mean, should I rebury it? Did the rains washing away the earth, um, wake you up?”

“Kinda?” They tilt their head as they crouch down next to Tim.

It’s clear now, as they move a bit out of the light, how transparent they are. It’s like in the shadow they lose tangency. Their hair is still just as blinding, being bright white in a way that’s really beautiful. They reach out to touch the femur but stop short.

“I’m tied to my bones. It’s why they dumped them all the way out here. After they killed me, I mean, all the way killed me, I haunted the fuck out of them. And yeah, sure, they could hurt this form of me too, but I always found a way out and then it all started again. Burying my bones was the only way to get rid of me, and those fuckers didn’t even scratch me a headstone in the tree or anything. Some parents, huh?”

“Holy— yeah,” Tim says. Looking back down at the other partially exposed bones he has to swallow back a wave of sadness. “Is that a yes to covering them up?”

“Actually… I’d like you to dig them up. I’m not stupid enough to think I’ll get justice or whatever, but I’d… I’d like to be somewhere proper and under my name.”

“What is it? Your name?”

“Danny.”

“Okay, Danny,” Tim gives a little nod and starts digging. “My friends and I will get you somewhere you feel safe. I’m Tim, by the way.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

Danny doesn’t help dig. He can’t, he explains as Tim and him talk. While his bones are buried, he’s not able to interact with them or else he would have gotten them out of there a long time ago. They learn together that as soon as the bones are free and set gently aside that Danny can touch them.

Tim never thought he’d see someone so emotional over a tibia, but Tim can’t blame the guy. Tim figures he’d be emotional over his own bones too.

The big bones are the easiest. The ribs Tim is extra careful with. The fingers are weirdly like peanut shells in his hand. (He’s not going to eat pb&j for weeks now.) Danny chats the whole time, asking Tim about the world. Tim feels wholly inadequate to catch someone up like that, but when conversation turns to technology Tim settles into a rhythm.

It also lets them figure out that while Danny died just shy of nineteen, he’s apparently spent almost two decades in the ground. He still looks just shy of nineteen. He looks like he should be in the forest for the same reason that Tim is, celebrating the end of one era and the start of the next. Danny should be looking to the future, not mourning it.

It makes Tim pause when he finally unearths Danny’s skull. What would it have been like to see Danny smile? To hear him laugh without that faint echoing quality that he has as a ghost? To touch him?

“I’m sorry,” Tim says and holds out the skull. Danny’s skull.

“Thank you,” Danny whispers. His hands tremble as he reaches out towards the skull. He crumples forward before he can touch it, a sob tearing through him.

“I’ll make sure you’re somewhere nice.

“Thank you.” Danny lets out a breath he doesn’t have and sags forward the last inch. His forehead bumps against the skull.

Then he keeps going forward.

The world explodes into light.

-

“Tim?!”

“Are you sure he’s still alive?”

“You can see him breathing, Bernard.”

“Pulse.”

“Tim!”

Tim gasps awake and blinks rapidly to clear his vision. His friends and sister stand clustered above him. It has gotten dark and their flashlights are blinding.

“You okay?” Cass asks.

“Ow.”

“Yeah, he’s okay,” Steph sighs. “Hey Tim, who the fuck is that?”

“Wha—” Fuck his head hurts. Who the fuck is who?

Oh, the person laying in his arms. The person who’s solid and warm and alive.

Tim starts laughing.

“Okay, maybe a little not okay,” Steph amends.

“Is he ever?” Tim hears Ives mutter.

“Guys,” Tim interrupts them discussing his status once he can breathe again. “This? This is Danny.”

“Being alive again hurts,” Danny mumbles against Tim’s neck and Tim can’t help it, he just starts laughing again.

Being alive does hurt, but fuck if that isn’t wonderful sometimes.

---

AN: So this one got away from me a little but, uh... tada? I was planing to have it all explained more, but once Danny didn't purposefully do it, that didn't fit. Basically all if his frankly absurd powers and as a ghost got jump started by his skull and Tim's lifeforce and tada? 100% pulled some from Tim's Gotham Knights character where he's an awkward little bean who is so not neurotpyical. Him and Bernard taking a vacation to hunt Mothman is from that too.

Anyways, stay delightful, darlings!

[hypnotizedstarkey]

study buddy !

nerd!rafe x confidenthorny!reader

warnings: smut!, male receiving, sub rafe, dom reader, rafe completely oblivious, climax control

i have never been so sick of studying. exams are coming up and i do not have the ability to fail or i’ll be screwed, that’s why i asked rafe cameron to help me out but i can’t stop thinking about how much i need to get some relief out.

“basically..” rafe paused fixing the glasses on his face, “did you stop listening to me again?” i looked at him awkwardly, poor guy isn’t even getting paid for this. “sorry i’m a little distracted” i apologize and try to focus once again.

rafe went on to ramble and as much as i wanted to listen i couldn’t stop looking at his lips and the way his fingers moved through the pages of the books. this was really bad and i honestly don’t know why i am feeling horny over this.

“y/n?” i could tell he was getting sick of me now.

“rafe, why don’t we take a break?” my eyes still on his hands. “oh s-sure” he sounds a little flustered and nervous like he usually is but i never pay much mind to it.

the silence filled my room and rafe was looking at everything but me, playing with his pencil and fidgeting with his glasses. “so are you seeing anybody” i blurted out the question with no remorse. rafes face going red more than usual “uh-h no..” suddenly he’s fidgeting more and now i’m starting to realizing he’s super nervous and tightening his grip on the pencil more, making his veins pop even more and i’m seeing how tight his shirt is.

oh my god it’s getting hot in here now. i’m crossing my legs more trying to get some sort of pleasure.

“rafe..” his eyes look at me this time, he hums in response. “do you want to try something out?” silence fills the room for what feels like minutes. “w-what?”he leans closer to me and so do i. he swallows and almost retreats. “have you ever kissed someone?” at this point im trying so hard to not fold in front of this man for breathing. “no.. why have you?” i almost laugh at his question and how oblivious he is to why i’m asking.

“rafe can i kiss you?” i ask him with full confidence, not shying down. “you want kiss m-me? like me willingly? why?” he’s cute when he’s nervous and i almost just want to kiss him before explaining why but i hold back. “well ive been distracted this whole time because of you”

“me? i’m sorry what did i do? do you need another tutor?” this is harder than i thought. “no it’s just- it’s just hard to study when i’m attracted to you i guess” i let out a small laugh. “oh.. well i felt the same when you asked me to help you out. never been so nervous before. honestly i-“ i cut him off with a kiss, and after being surprised he started to kiss me back. i pull back after a few seconds and rafe leans forward a bit wanting more. i let out a soft laugh and watch him come back to reality.

“so how was that as a first-“ now he’s kissing me and this time it’s kind of messy. i’ve never been more turned on for a person in my life. i start to take control and subtly move him closer to my bed. i break the kiss and push him onto the mattress subtly and start kissing from his mouth to kiss jawline and to his neck and further. rafes little gasps and moans leaving his mouth when i find his sweet spot.

“take this off” i tell him in a rush, clothes are in the way and our minds fuzzy with adrenaline. his shirt is off and i see the amazing body he had hiding underneath. “is this okay?” i ask taking my shirt off. “god yes” he sounds out of breath. i smile and lean back down to his lips and kissing down his chest. i occasionally look up at him to see his face flustered and mouth open with awe.

i finally get to his pants and feel his bulge. “can i make you feel good?” i kiss the top of his indent and continue looking up at him. “yes y/n.. pl-please” no hesitation i start trying to unbuckle his belt and finally take it off. he lifts his hips up to take his pants off and his bulge is takes me by surprise. i take him out of his boxers and hear him hiss as i rub my thumb against his red tip. his hands are already in my hair before i start.

i start move my hand up and down his shaft and he lets out more groans. i watch him fascinated at how good he looks like this for me. i continue watching him as a i lick a stripe up to his tip and have spit drool down his shaft. he has puts his head back and his mouth agape with pleasure and his view. i finally take him in my mouth, twirling my tongue around him and gagging and rafe moans, pushing my head down without realizing it. “feel s’ good” he’s in the clouds with pleasure. i push my head down farther and he pushes he hips up basically fucking my mouth until he hears me gagging. “shit i’m sorry” stopping all his movements and trying to make me feel better.

“shh it’s okay let’s me keep going baby” i kiss his shaft and he lays back down almost shivering from the feeling. wrapping my mouth around him around i let him fuck my mouth more and he looks down at me to make sure i’m okay and i give him a thumbs up. his moans fill my apartment and he’s pushing my head down more as i keep going. i could cum from this and i’d be happy.

i’ve never had a man so vocal for me. i used to want them to be but they always held back but rafe was not like that, he was a nervous mess and was clueless and it turned me on knowing i could take power in our pleasure.

“y/n.. i’m gonna- fuck i’m gonna cum” he cursed. “you’re doing so good for me rafe” he little out a held in groan. “don’t hold your sounds in, i want to hear you.” i squeeze him a little more and he lets out a whimper. “don’t cum until i tell you to” placing my mouth on him again and using my hand to gather the rest of him, his hands on my face and hair and his face covered in how fucked he is. my panties completely drenched and he doesn’t even know it.

“oh my god- please” his moans getting louder. “cum in my mouth” i rub his shaft faster and he starts to whimper from pleasure and pain from how badly he wants to cum. “mmm- fuck y/n” he moans loudly now, finally white spurts fill my mouth and i take every taste of him i could get. he still has his eyes on me looking so fucked out of his mind and sweat beads on his forehead.

he brings me up to him and kisses me, tasting himself. “that was.. wow” he lets out trying to catch his breath again. i let out a chuckle and go to put on my shirt. “wait.” i stop and look back at him, “what about you?”

i almost fold right there, no guy really cared to give me anything back. “maybe i can tutor you next time?” smiling at him cheekily, “like you mean this again?” he fixes his glasses and i lay next to him and laugh, kissing him again. “yeah maybe i’ll teach you something new every time.”

HIIII, this is my first smut writing 😓 pls don’t judge me yet okay

[tiredeyesight]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ in your mind (mattheo riddle x fem! reader)

summary : mattheo riddle, your sworn enemy, forgets about your ability to hear others thoughts

mattheo fucking riddle, waltzes into the class as if he owns the place. that stupid smirk and knowing eyes that he could do anything for salazars sake and not get into any trouble. flitwicks dismay is obvious, yet he does nothing but instruct riddle to take a seat just behind you. now your dismay was obvious, riddle had been your sworn enemy for as long as you could remember however you couldn’t really remember why.

‘oi y/l/n, what’re we doing?’ riddle questions you. ‘come on time and focus to find out’ you respond and for some odd reason there was no sarcastic comment or any insult thrown your way. just silence from mattheo. despite your normal dislike for your abilities to hear other’s thoughts, you used it. just this once.

voices boomed and echoed through your head, clashing together and combining until you focused in on one particular annoyingly attractive voice. ‘god why does she have to be so pretty’ you hear from the same voice that had called you a multitude of opposing mocks. surely he wasn’t talking about you. ‘her hair is so gorgeous, looks so soft, i just wanna play with it ugh.’ to confirm you weren’t dreaming, you dropped your pencil and turned your head. all you saw was his dark, rich brown eyes completely focused on you.

‘i always forget how beautiful her eyes are, this lighting doesn’t do them justice.’ and there was your confirmation.

for the rest of the lesson, you couldn’t focus on the work only on the handsome yet annoying boy behind you who hadn’t stopped thinking about you. as the bell rings you shove your items away in a haste determined to learn more about this admiration for you. the halls become flooded with kids rushing to get to their dorms or the hall for a quick snack before dinner yet all you were focused on was mattheo riddle.

he turned into a quiet hallway and you followed suit, your presence becoming known to him. ‘what are you doing here?’ he asks with irritation in his voice, a very fake irritation as all he could think about was ‘i want her so bad’. you walked closer towards him with a small smile plastered on your face, almost chest to chest and whispered the words, ‘for being someone you hate, i’m sure on your mind a lot’.

a blush rose to his cheeks, ‘i don’t know what you’re talking about.’ a continuous, ‘fuck fuck fuck, i forgot she can hear peoples thoughts’, jostled through his mind. a small giggle arose from your sweet lips and that’s all it took for mattheo to completely fold. ‘christ all right, you caught me’ he started, ‘im like head over heels for you, even with our little fights it makes me fall more in love with you every single time. you’re just so gorgeous and so kind, the complete opposite to me yet im totally obsessed with you.’ a smile that you had never seen before appeared on his face.

you were in complete shock, this was almost the last thing you expected from him of all people. mattheo riddle. yet you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach exploded in flutters by his words and how you suddenly became speechless. ‘can i kiss you’, you uttered out after moments of silence. ‘please.’

author note : i feel like this may be the most common thing ive ever wrote but hey it’s common for a reason so live laugh love i guess. and as always requests are still open!!

word count : 557

[tiramissyoucake]

I would LOVE to see a fic based on your different roles thingy with the variants, especially the pastry chef and idol one! <3

THANK YOU THANK YOU IVE BEEN WAITING RAAAAAAH HERE ARE 2 SNIPPETS not as good as I hoped but I hope ya'll like it

Based on this

Full-Mask Invincible:

"Is that all, then?" You were sweeter than the desserts in the display case, Mark nodded his head absentmindedly, a light pink dusting his cheeks with a dopey smile, he should say something.

"Yeah.. hey— uh, I... really love the cupcakes you make, I was never a big 'dessert' guy, but yours?" He made a chef's kiss gesture prompting a small laugh from you, embarrassing but effective. "Can't go a day without 'em."

Your smile was adorable as your hard work was praised. "Thank you! I usually have to make them really early and then put them here myself," you explained while gesturing to the kitchen doors in the back then the case infront of you. "Helps that I open before lunch rush."

He nodded in acknowledgment as he tugged out the sum for his dessert's cost from his wallet. "Smart! I'd gladly trample over a few businessmen to get the last few cookies." His joke invoked another laugh, damn. He was on fire today.

As you carefully wrapped up the box and placed it in a paper bag, you caught a glimpse of the cake pops you kept near the register. "Here, two cake pops, on the house!"

His eyebrows went up at that, his mom loved those. "Wait, are you sure? C'mon, you gotta let me pay—"

"I insist! Consider it thanks for supporting local businesses!" God, your smile, your tone. He was ready to melt into a puddle then and there.

. . .

Seeing you again, in a world that wasn't his shook him to his core, he remembers the catastrophe your bakery went through; an explosion. Someone tried to take something away from him and they killed you. baked goods that never got displayed or even tasted, you were crushed under the rubble.

His body moved before his mind could send any commands, shooting straight for you through the clouds, buildings and whatever running civilians remained, his arms clamping down around you.

"It's you— you're alive- I can't believe you're-" his rambling went on as he let out a sigh of relief, your fear and shaking hands unknown to him. "Mark?! What're you doing here?!"

"What do you mean? I'm here for you!" He pulled back, his face fully obscured save for the goggles, you could barely see tears behind the translucent material. "God— you're just as beautiful as you were in my world, come here, it's not safe—"

You snatched your hand back harshly, looking at him with an angered expression. "You're one of them!" You announced, wary. "The psychos running around in Invincible costumes!"

His heart dropped, you never looked at him like that— you were always sweet, soft. As soft as the desserts you made were chewy and sugary.

"(Name), please, don't be scared." He coaxed, his hands opening to you. "Come with me, I'll explain everything if you just co-"

"No! I'm not going anywhere with any of you!" Your rejection stung, sure, he wasn't 'YOUR' Mark, but he was Mark. Was that not enough?

A frustration filled his veins quickly as he grabbed your wrist harshly, tugging you close and ignoring your noises of protest as you came in contact with his chest. "You're scared, I get it." His arm came back around your waist, holding you close. "But I'm not leaving you, not like last time."

"I'll never let you out of my sight ever again."

♡

No-goggles Invincible:

Mark never saw a person as blinding as you are, God, every album you release, you manage to become sparklier. And he would know because he's been following you for a while.

He abused his power to see you worldwide, meet 'n greet in France? Boom, first in line. Exclusive merch release with your album in Japan? He bought the first copy. Concert in Australia? No ticket needed when you're a super-powered alien.

He couldn't believe he was shaking your hand, his newly bought album on the table. "You're even prettier in person!" He grinned, your kind smile making his heart race. "I've been watching you for a while, y'know? Since your Heartthrob Cutie Era!"

"Whaaat?! Really?! That's so long ago! Thank you for your support!" He could die here and he'd be happy, you looked adorable in your newest era outfit, the theme was filled with candy, bright colors, swirls and bows, he could eat you up.

"Thanks for coming by the way! Who do I make this out to?" You held the sharpie in your hand, ready to sign as he restrained himself from telling you to just write that you love him.

"I wouldn't miss this for the end of the world." Mark sighed, glancing down at the album. "Mark, with a K, Grayson."

"To.. my... long-time fan, Mark Grayson!" You signed with practised finesse, his name written with a heart and a parasocial slogan of 'Thanks for the love!♡'

He wasn't getting a wink of sleep after getting home.

. . .

During the time where Invincible work drowned him, he fell behind in supporting you. Missed out on a few albums releases and exclusive releases, the obsession became more casual.

Though the memory of your beaming smile and warm greeting rushed back to him as he spotted you, not as shiny but still you, trying to sneak through the rubble, evacuating too late. He slowly hovered down to the ground behind you, eyes wide as a smile slowly stretched across his features.

"Holy. Shit." Crude, but what else would he say? It's his idol! You turned sharply with a gasp. "It's you! They got a version of you here too?!"

You furrowed your eyebrows, frozen like a deer in headlights as this 'Mark' studied you, no goggles to hide his wandering eyes from taking in your entire form, he noted confusion.

"... hello? You forget your own career?" He did a gesture that was too cute for someone who was tearing apart the town and its civilians to be doing "'I'll steal all your hearts and more!', c'mon! That's you! Your whole... y'know, bit!"

You shook your head, cringing as he facepalmed. "Whatever, you're probably delirious. Amnesia or panic or whatever." He gestured for you to follow him, taking two steps away before hearing receding hurried ones, his head zipping around to see you trying to run.

"Hey! HEY! WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?!" His foot pushed off the ground, flying in an instant to you and tackling you to the ground.

"Yeah! No dumbass bodyguards to keep you away from me, now!" He laughed breathlessly, excited to finally have you to himself, no security or anything to restrain him from talking to you too long.

"Let go!! Get off me!!" Your shouts were ignored as you clawed and shoved at him, palm connecting with his cheek and pushing him away he resisted and leaned closer to you.

"Ooh, fiesty thing! You're so cute!" He laughed as he bit into your palm, eliciting a scream from you as you harshly pulled your hand back. "I ruined this town enough, the others won't mind if I fuck around with you for a little."

"C'mere, why don't you give me one of your cute little poses?"

[strwberri-milk]

Could you please give headcanons on how LAD men would react if MC is non-jealous? Like they got hit on but MC isn't bothered or phased just stand there n watch the whole thing unfold (you can say Mc is amused at the attempt or smug about it cuz it shows that she had good taste in men) sry if my english is bad

im assuming that this is what youre referring too so ive put them both into one request lol

Zayne doesn't really mind it. He likes that you aren't jealous because he wants to be with someone who's secure in his relationship considering how late his hours are and how he can't be around as often as he would like to be. Knowing that you're more than fine with him focusing on work those days where he really has to focus and can't see you.

He doesn't get hit on too often because of the slightly chilly demeanor he has. People tend to leave him alone, especially with how obvious he makes it that you're dating him by the way he holds you. However, whenever people do try it he's glad that you don't mind it. He doesn't want you to think that he has eyes for anybody but you, even if a very very small part of him his curious to see what your protective side might be like when it comes to him.

When someone starts to insult you is when he starts shutting things down. He's telling them to stop saying things like that because there's no way he'd fall for their weak attempts at manipulation and will honestly start trying to walk away. If you stop minding your own business and start paying attention to him he'll try to guide you away to prevent you from hearing something nasty being said about you.

You gently shush him, smiling to yourself as you listen to the person rant at you. You know that Zayne doesn't want you to draw attention to the two of you so you let them complain before asking them if they think behaving like a child is really how you find a man that's as accomplished and sophisticated as Zayne. You don't really need to say much anyway because they can see how Zayne looks at them with a mild irritation for how they've interrupted your day before simply bidding them a goodbye. They're stuck trying to figure out how to reply to your words, forced to confront their childish actions.

If they decide to continue, following you around and shouting obscenities at you then you simply tell them that they look pathetic begging for him like this and that everybody around you is laughing at them. Public shame is a strong deterrent and they're forced to leave you alone. Zayne doesn't say anything but he does press a soft kiss to your cheek, not wanting to be too affectionate in public with how many eyes are on you but he's also very proud of how you can easily stand your ground.

Xavier likes knowing that he's yours but he also doesn't care too much for giant overt displays. He likes the subtle ways you show your his and he can show others that he's yours. It shows in the subtle way the two of you speak of how intertwined your lives are, just how casual the two of you are with each other. There's this implicit understanding that's shared between the two of you that just makes it seem like you two have been married for thirty years.

He doesn't mind that you aren't jealous over him but he also sometimes wants to see you being possessive over him. He likes seeing how your eyes flash and how you slide yourself next to him. You'll kiss his cheek and smile at him before asking who his new friend is. He typically doesn't entertain conversations with people who aren't you but he's much more subtle about it. People don't notice that he's not checked into the conversation until they suddenly realise he's quiet not because he's listening, but because he's fully just on his phone or started to leave when they looked away from him.

He doesn't get hit on often but when he does it's because people see him as an easy target. They think that he's chill and would be receptive to getting their number when it's totally the opposite. He doesn't even look at people who try to flirt with him, immediately pulling out his phone to text you to come find him faster because people are trying to get his number.

You show up quickly as soon as you hear them telling him how clearly, you don't care about him if you've just abandoned him like that. They're claiming that if you really loved him as much as he says he does then you wouldn't have left him alone like that. They start going on and on as you approach, tapping their shoulder as you gently push them aside to perch yourself on Xavier's lap. He doesn't expect it but he welcomes in anyway, happily returning the soft kiss you give him.

You totally ignore the person flirting with him, rolling your eyes as you tell them that Xavier hates it when people just prattle on and on about nothing like the way they're doing right now. You don't even let them get another word in as you tell him that you're tired and wanna go home now - your day was ruined by them and you didn't feel like staying out anymore.

He likes how you basically just totally shut them down without a second though, standing up with him and taking his hand. The two of you just fully ignore them, heading home as Xavier tells you he likes it when you do things like that.

Rafayel loves being obvious about how much he loves you. He's constantly hit on at parties and generally when he's in an okay mood he won't be as openly hostile about rejecting advances if Thomas begs him not to. He feels bad for the guy sometimes, knowing how difficult he can be to work with but not bad enough to actually be fully nice to everyone at events.

He wishes you were more openly jealous around him, recounting some stories specifically in hopes of getting a rise out of you. He doesn't want to like, actually hurt your feelings but he does want to see you pout and get a little clingy if possible. You know that that's his goal whenever he tells you about another socialite hitting on him and you entertain him by being dramatic in response, Rafayel lightly pouting at how you aren't taking him seriously but he also knows you're doing that because you love him.

When someone is genuinely trying to flirt with him and tells him that you aren't even rich or famous enough to be around him your first response is to just let him deal with it. He's very good at rejecting people but you feel bad when he meets your gaze from across the room, a pleading look on his face as he tries to convince you to come and rescue him. You decide to take pity on him and head over, trying to tell the socialite to back off. They just start to get in your face, telling you that you have no business acting the way you do, going off on you.

You just sigh and tell them that it doesn't matter how much they beg Rafayel doesn't like them and has personally told you himself how much he can't stand these parties because of people like them. You make it quite pointed that Rafayel hates these events and that if it were up to him, he wouldn't be here especially with them. Rafayel doesn't even need to say anything as he just stands behind you, arms around your waist as he just nods in agreement with your words, giving you a kiss as the other person finally gives up and fully leaves the party, embarrassed as everybody started staring at the argument that the two of you were having. The confident demeanor you have while Rafayel drapes himself off of you has everyone chuckling to themselves at how shameless the other party is, unfortunately staining their reputation as someone desperate to climb the social ladder.

Rafayel basks in the attention you showered him in and how hot he thinks it is that you made it so obvious you're his. You never left his side for the rest of the evening and he had fun introducing you to literally everyone. He'll ask you to do it more often if you can, totally obsessed with how you handled the situation so easily.

Sylus is pretty okay about the fact that you don't show any jealousy when he's flirted with. People are usually too scared of him to flirt with him anyway. Internally though, he also does want to see how you'd react when jealous. He doesn't do anything to trigger it but clearly, he doesn't really have to. Sometimes, he might make light jokes about how you don't get jealous because you know he has nothing on his mind but you. You don't have the heart to admit the fact that you know he's obsessed with you, but you also love knowing that he is. He makes it so obvious but he isn't even aware of how obvious he is about loving you, constantly spoiling you in every way.

He doesn't often attend events but he had to this one time, leading to people falling all over themselves to try and get his attention. You know that he can take care of himself but you also can't help the possessive streak that you feel at someone trying to take away something that's yours. He was having the time of his life /s avoiding everyone or making snide remarks as people try to steal his attention from you. You were trying to socialise with some people on his behalf, wanting to be friendly when you saw just how crowded he was with people trying to flirt with him.

His eyes follow you as you come to him, beginning to tell people off for acting so desperate around him. You remind them that Sylus chooses only the best and unfortunately for them, that so happens to be you. He doesn't say anything to you as you continue to tell people off, watching you with amusement in his eyes. You don't even feel his gaze as people weakly try to retaliate against your points, leading to you proving how wrapped around your finger you have him. He barely registers what's happening until he's delivering a plate of food to you, gazing at you with a soft expression that nobody's ever seen on him before. It makes it pretty clear that he won't ever see anybody that isn't you and shuts them up - if their egos aren't already decimated by how crude you were in calling out the desperate behaviour.

He'll tell you later as the two of you are getting ready for bed how flattered he was to have all of your attention on reminding people how much you love him. That overt display of affection is one he wants, obsessed with being shown in definitive ways just how much you love him.

[matchpointfaist]

sheltered art! x flirty reader pt iv

pretty piece of flesh ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

halloween .

not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, art found himself wandering the rooms of a packed frat house, trying his best to steer clear of temptation. ever since he'd had that little taste of you, all the things he once saw as sins, were now just forbidden fruit; temptations dangled before him, calling to him, pulling him in deeper until eventually he'd betray everything he'd been taught, the very things he stood for and used to believe in.

it was halloween night, and he was dressed in chain link with a cheap prop sword dangling on his hip, as he and the tennis team had gone as king arthur and the knights. he found himself looking for you, in that small, subconscious way he'd grown all too comfortable with. sweeping the room for any trace of your hair, or your dark lipstick, or straining his ears for the slightest sound of your laugh.

you hadn't sought him out after that night. he told himself it was a good thing, that this thing between you could only end badly, but he knew it was all a lie. he checked his phone obsessively, eager for just a text from you, a confirmation that he didn't humiliate himself and run you off forever. in the back of his mind, he couldn't shake the thought that he should have known this would happen. you were too good to be true.

in the midst of his self pity, he glanced up as someone said your name, and there you were. like something from heaven, or hell, or wherever the fuck you had to have come from. gone was the dark eyeliner and lipstick, the sultry look you always seemed to have. you were all clean, light colors, innocent little look in your eye. a pretty white dress, fluffy angel wings, and a shimmery halo on your head.

it felt like you were torturing him, mocking his faith, or the faith he'd lost the moment you sank to your knees in front of him. the way you'd said god's name even as his come shined on your lips; he was weak in the knees, in the middle of all his friends, watching you walk over, the memories on a reel in his mind.

"art," you smiled, so sweet, so cloying, "i didn't know you'd be here. cool costume," he tried to remember how to speak normally, how not to give himself away for how depraved he was feeling, "uh, yeah- i got invited. you look beautiful, i mean, i love your costume,"

you laughed, and jesus, your hand was on his arm again. "i thought maybe you'd appreciate it," you smiled, blinking up at him with wide, faux doe eyes, "you think god would mind you being with an angel, art?"

he didn't give a fuck what god minded. he didn't care about anything other than your hand on his arm and the look in your eye and the cross necklace he now recognized as the one he suspiciously couldn't find after your last meeting, now dangled around your neck. he threw faith out the window just as he had the second you entered his bedroom, taking your hand in his and pulling you to a more secluded part of the house, even with his head screaming at him that he was taking this too far.

"you didn't call," he said quietly, "i thought you didn't want to see me, and now you're here and that's my necklace, and what are you doing dressed up like an angel anyway?" he could hear how ridiculous he sounded, like he had any right to demand you call him, like he knew what he was doing when it came to you at all.

"there ya go," you sounded pleased, a small smile on your lips, "knew you'd come out of that shell eventually. you missed me, isn't that right?" and then you were on your tip toes, leaning up to kiss him, so sweet and so dangerous.

he pulled you against him, practically clinging to you, his hands resting under your angel wings and his mouth hungry against yours. "missed you too," you mumbled between kisses, all sloppy and desperate and wrong just right.

he couldn't think, couldn't focus on anything other than this, than your hands wandering over his costume and the way you bit as his bottom lip just enough to make him crazy. and then you were pulling him into one of the bedrooms, and he couldn't say no, couldn't even think that he'd ever wanted anything but this.

he pulled you to the bed, pulling you into his lap, panting against your lips and letting his hands wander wherever he felt like it. he was so tired of being good, of doing the right thing, and you felt so fucking good against him. and god, the sounds you made, the little whimpers between kisses and the way you mumbled his name as you kissed down his neck, biting his collarbone, sucking a bruise into the delicate skin behind his ear.

"want you," he whined as you nipped at the skin, his hips bucking beneath you, "god, please, i'll be so good," you giggled against him, kissing back up to his mouth, "know you'd be good," you sounded almost like you were teasing him, "not gonna take your virginity in a frat guys bedroom, art,"

but then your hands were wandering even lower, pulling down his pants, and he prayed that you didn't mean it, that you'd let him fuck you and finally end this horrible yearning. instead, you left him in his boxers and settled back in his lap, kissing him with a feverish need.

you ground your hips against him, and he could feel the wetness seeping through the cotton of the layers between you, a low groan rumbling in his throat. "how bad do you want it?' you whispered as you trailed your kisses low once again, "tell me, wanna hear you say it," he dug his fingers into your hips, trying to keep some form of composure, "want it so bad, please, just want something-"

you reached down, sliding down his boxers just enough for his cock to slap against his abs, smiling as he sucked in a breath at the feeling. then you settled back into his lap, gently taking him into your hand, and he nearly fainted when you slid him inside your soaked panties, grinding against him.

he gasped, his eyes closing, his teeth digging into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. "oh my god, you're so wet," he groaned, pulling you back and forth against him with shaking hands, "feels so good, i'm-"

"all for you," you grabbed his jaw, pulling him in almost close enough to kiss you, "know you're close, just go ahead," you said it so sweetly, like you really didn't mind, and he felt so bad but you felt so good, he was pulling away in an instant, spilling cum all over your thighs, panting and whining and rutting against your skin.

he rested his head against your chest as he caught his breath, apologizing for making a mess of you, but you waved it off, running your fingers through his hair in a way that almost made him feel like this really meant something to you.

"you didn't finish," he mumbled into your skin, pressing a soft kiss against your chest, "let me- can you show me? wanna make you feel good, too," you shifted off his lap in response, taking one of his hands in yours, "so sweet," you hummed, "come here,"

and then your legs were spread, and your panties were pulled to the side, and he could've died right there and gone straight to heaven. "so beautiful," he hated how in awe he sounded, but he truly was. you felt like a gift from god, a reward for how good he'd been for so long.

you motioned for him to come closer, and he was so close he was nearly whining again, need thrumming in his veins. "tell me what to do," he practically begged, looking up at you through thick lashes, "wanna be good,"

you might've been dressed like an angel, but you felt like some sort of demon, some siren, as art donaldson sat between your thighs, following all your instructions so eagerly, lapping at your cunt like he'd done it a million times before. you knew he'd be good, so eager to please, so sweet and patient. he was so good, such a good man, perfect for you to teach and grow with.

you didn't care about any of that as your hands were fisted in his hair, rocking against his face as he sucked at your clit, little whines leaving his mouth and vibrating against you. he was rutting against the mattress, desperate like he was the one getting head, and that made it so much better.

"gonna- fuck, art, gonna come for you," you moaned, your grip on his hair growing tighter as that only encouraged him more. he was chasing it, hungry for it, so desperate to be good to you. you came with a sharp gasp, your eyes rolling back as he worked the orgasm out of you, so thorough and devoted.

when you were finished, he crawled up to kiss you, his lips wet and shining in the dim bedroom light. "was that- did i do good?" he asked timidly, and you nodded, pulling him down to wrap your arms around his shoulders. "so good," you mumbled, tracing your fingertips down his back, "you're perfect,"

you let yourself fall asleep despite it not even being your house, despite you telling yourself that this was a mistake, sleeping tangled up with art like this.

you'd never slept better.

[romana-after-dark]

Keep Running, Little Bunny!

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Masterlist

Buy Me A Coffee : Kofi : Go Fund Me

Summary: Logan takes you, but gives you a chance to escape... what isn't he telling you?

Warnings: NON CON DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Logan is a masochist and a bit of a sadist but def more into the pain. Feral!Logan, primal kink, THIS IS NON NON, READER AND LOGAN GET SLICED UP! I'm not listing everything here, just please read with caution! Physical and sexual violence! Somno!

Immersivity: Reader is fem, afab, able bodied

A/N: first time writing Logan!!! Im obssed with him after deadpool wolverine but the only other Wolverine movie ive seen was that really bad one in like japan or something lmfao. I do wanna watch them all now (Oscar Isaac is in apocalypse!) This may not be the most correct but I'm trying. Lemme know if you wan more Logan!

Divider by @xxbimbobunnyxx

Im late but I wanted to do the manspreading for the manspreading olympics by @toxicanonymity

"You're a hard girl to get a hold of, princess."

Logan is sitting across from the bed you've woken up in, in a chair with his legs spread wide. You can see the bulge in his pants from how he touched you, caressing your sleeping body as you slowly woke up from whatever you were given. His hands slid up your loose shorts, a single finger slipping in and out of your hole, making sure the first words you woke up to were, "Are you always this wet?" with his hot breath fluttering on your skin.

Slowly, the memories began to come to you: how you fought and kicked and screamed as Logan tried to drag you away, him shoving the chloroformed rag in your mouth until you passed out gagging... 

Now here you were, watching him as he palmed his hardness in front of you.

"i thought X-men were good guys." You spit, arms crossed over your chest as you watch him touch himself.

He shrugs with a little smirk on the right side of his face. "I wouldn't call myself a good guy. Never have. Saving the world is one thing... but I think I'm owed a little something on the side."

You laugh at that, a bark of a laugh that signals the disbelief that he's actually speaking to you right now, saying such things. "I don't owe you shit!"

"Maybe not. Doesn't matter though, because I'm gonna let you go." Logan groans, stroking a long, hard drag down the line of his cock in his pants.

This makes you narrow your eyes, suspicious. "What do you mean?"

"I'm gonna let you go. Gonna let you make a run for it. Here." He tosses a knife to the bed, making you flinch but then you quickly grab it, eyeing him. He's still touching himself, but with an agonized sigh he lets go. You wonder if he was close... Logan stands up, opening the door to the small, one room cabin and letting you see the trees outside. "Half a mile west there's a road. Not used a whole lot but someone is bound to come by, pick you up. I'll give you a head start, and you can use that knife on me. You can kill me if you try hard enough. Little fighter like you, might even be able to get the slip on me."

You blink. This can't be real. "This is a trick, isn't it... you're gonna punish me for running, or, or for stabbing you..."

Logan shakes his head, gesturing out to where the sun was setting fast. "Nope, won't punish you for that. Just like a challenge, that's all."

"There's... there a catch, isn't there... something you aren't telling me."

For a moment his face is still, like he's trying to put on a poker face. Then, a smile breaks. "I've never been a good lair. yeah, there's something I'm not tell'n yuh, bub, but really, what choice do you have?"

As you rise from the bed, he stands back. You hold out the knife, and he keeps his hands up, palms towards you... his face was almost condescending... but what choice did you have. Once you back away several steps, you turn around and make a run for it. You weren't exactly sure his powers, but given his name was wolverine you were fairly certain speed was one of them.

"I'll count down from 100!" Logan calls after you, his voice starting to sound distant. "100... 99...98... keep running little bunny! 97... 96..."  You faintly hear the 95 before you're out of earshot, running as fast as your legs can take you through the woods. Jumping over logs and stumbling down hills, you run more than you have since your high school made you do a mile, your out of shape body struggling to take in oxygen. Tree branches smacked your face, leaves wet with dew, the little sticks drawing blood on your cheek but you don't dare stop, not for a second. 

Something zooms past you nearby, a rustling of bushes an the faint sound of '10' in your ear, before all goes still again. You're close, you have to be.

'5'

Shit, shit. You grip the knife in your fist as you try to pick up speed, tired legs carrying you as fast as they'll go but it's not enough.

Logan is in front of you, a broad smile on his face and hands gripping your shoulders to stop you. "One." 

You scream, stabbing him in the rib cage expecting him to shout in pain but instead he moans in pleasure. No time to process this, you kick him in the dick and shove him over, making a run for it again, but Logan grabs your foot, causing you to fall face first into the dirt and grass. Strong arms yank you, despite crawling as nothing, and suddenly you are under him. 

"No!" You try to get away, but he's too strong, too quick, pinning your hands down and he looms over you.

"Pretty little bunny... running so fast..." Logan cocks his head to the side. "Not quite fast enough, eh?" Leaning down, Logan licks a stripe up your cheek, tasting the blood on your face. "Tasty little bunny..."

Your hand with the knife continues to be pinned down, Logan bracing his entire weight on your wrist while he undoes his pants, freeing his cock from the restraints. The throbbing member lay heavy against your thigh, a size you can only guess from the feeling and for a moment you think he's going to take off your shorts the same way. Then, Logan placed his knuckles at the base of your shorts and suddenly there's a stinging, sharp pain running up your leg and to your waist.

"Fuck!!!" No one is around to hear you screaming, no one except Logan who thrust his fist out, tearing your shorts and underwear to literal shreds.

When cock is thrust into you, you can't even scream anymore as the sounds get lodged into your throat, trapped in there just as you are now, his body caging you.

"Fuck'n tight there, princess. Is that fear, or is that all you?" You respond with a slap to his face which only makes him fuck you harder. "Aha, I think that's all you, baby doll, you were soaking my fingers earlier. Creamy little pussy ready to squirt on a strangers hands."

"FUCK YOU!"

"You want me dead?"

"Yes!"

He releases your sore hand, but the knife still lays next to it. "Take your shot, why dontcha?"

Thinking fast, you grab the handle again and with a scream, you plunge it into his neck.

To your surprise he just grins broadly. What the fuck is wrong with him.

Again, again, again, you stab the knife into different parts of his body as he stabs between your legs, fucking with more more intensity, with loud moans, closer and closer to his release. His gruff pants in your ear mirror your screams, listening to Logan moan and groan and whimper as he ravages your helpless body when you realize... he likes it. He likes it and the wounds are healing as fast as you can cut him. 

"Pretty bunny..." He chuckles lowly, his hand gripping your sides so hard it feels like a pinch, your fragile non-mutant body nothing but a plaything for him. With a loud growl, Logan cums inside you, filling you up as he continues to fuck him cum inside you, streams of hot cum flooding inside you. How was he still hard? Movements begin to slow, but your exhaustion begins to take it's toll on you, giving up harming him and simply taking it. "That's it... that's my good girl. Give in to me, little bunny. Let me have you... I can make it so good." Logan thrusts up into you, hitting something so devastating and deep no one has before, his rough hand sliding to your center to caress your bud.

"I don't want it to be good..." You cry weakly, even as pleasure builds down in you.

"Sure yuh do... c'mon, pretty girl you can give it to me... don't fight it, it's useless. You're mine now, my bunny... cum for me..." Logan's demeanor changes, suddenly indulgent and begging, his facial hair tickling your skin as he nuzzles your neck. "Wanna feel it... Wanna feel my sweet bunny coming on my cock... becoming mine..." You can't fight it anymore, the thick stretch on him, his skilled hands, the sleepiness clouding your rational... and he feels it too. "There we go... that's my girl, all mine, huh? You're mine now my pet... yeah... all mine..." It was painfully delicious, the way he made you feel, how his hands seemed to know you so intimately... 

Then that chloroformed clothe was on your mouth again, his cock still buried hard inside you. You didn't fight this time, letting the release of sleep take you. 

Slowly, Logan began to grind his hips into your body again, his hands claw extending again as they slipped under your shirt. No cuts this time, only a few nicks before he shredded your shirt now, leaving you in tattered clothes as he felt you up. Logan's mouth was at your ear. "Can't have you fighting me this time, little bunny. I'm gonna get to know this sweet body, I'm gonna lean everything it likes..." He cups your breasts, tweaking at a bare nipple. "Gonna take good care of you."

As you fall asleep, you can hear a car driving nearby.

THANK YOU!!!!!

I am so excited to try out a new character!!!!!!

Unfortunetly, after I made the go fund me listed above my car's fucking starter went bad ;-; that'll be like $800. I'm struggling to get by. Please please pease consider making a donation or donating o my ko-fi or biy me a coffee all linked above!. If not, thats totally okay! Theres no presure.

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I knew I'm new to logan but if you like OScar Isaac or Pedro PAscal characters, consider checking out my other work!! thanks!!!

Tagging those who expressed interest or who i thought might like?

No presure if its not your thing! Comment if you want more dark logan!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @reveric @wolverineswaifu @birbita @multiversed-daydreamer

love yuh!

[thelov3lybookworm]

Lose your temper

Summary: Only loses his temper for her.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 805

Warnings: azzie being a protective pookie 🥹

A/n: hello hello i come bearing gifts after the tiny hiatus. might get my laptop back soon so dont you worry ill be back soon. ive mostly been focused on writing my wattpad books but though you all deserved a lil treat too so here i am 😌

also ps (edited) this was inspired by someones reddit post about having the sweetest father who threatened to hand a man by his intestines if they did not leave his wife alone and i think thats precious 🥺

HAVE FUN YALL

ENJOYYYY🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Being the daughter of the spymaster, it almost made Hazel seem like some sort of elite fae that some feared while others pitied. The people that feared her, Hazel could understand the place they were coming from. But it was the other group that befuddled Hazel.

Why would they pity her? Did they think her father was an abuser of some kind?

Of course, he towered over a lot of people, and his physique made him known as a ruthless warrior. And yeah, maybe he also did have the most spectacular reputation to go with it, but it did not warrant people thinking he bullied Hazel too.

Or maybe it did, but Hazel could not bring herself to understand that part.

Azriel had always been the most gentle, calm and loving parent anyone could ever ask for. He was the furthest thing from mean. Hazel had never seen him get angry or raise his voice.

And it made Hazel wonder. What would be the situation in which Azriel raised his voice?

Hazel knew the one person Azriel loved the most was Y/n. He could act all he wanted when he wanted to irk Y/n that Hazel came first for him, but Hazel knew that if it came to it, he would sacrifice the whole world, her and then himself to please his wife.

And so when she asked her father, his answer came as no surprise.

"Dad, will I ever see you lose your temper?"

He laughed, his eyes not leaving the vegetables he stirred in the pan for lunch. "Maybe if someone bullies your mother, you just might."

Hazel smiled, nodding. She turned to look outside the window that faced their porch, looking at all the people that passed. Their house was in one of the quietest areas of Velaris, and so only sparse groups of people lingered around, mostly kids and housewives.

As she continued pondering his answer, her eyes fell on her mother returning from the market nearby. Hazel grinned, beginning to turn to her father to tease him about it, but then she looked closer at Y/n.

She looked disturbed, brows furrowed and lips pursed.

"Dad?"

Azriel hummed, glancing at Hazel.

"Does mom look worried to you?"

Hazel heard him draw closer, peering over her shoulder. "Mom?"

"Yeah, look."

Hazel glanced at Azriel, watching as his brows drew together and his jaw hardened.

"A male’s following her."

Hazel blinked, then turned to look. Sure enough, she saw a man come into view, jeering at Y/n’s back. Y/n was almost to the gate that opened into their lawn, and she kept glancing back at the man.

"He’s dead if he doesn’t leave."

Hazel would have smiled, but the seriousness in her father’s voice told her he wasn’t jesting.

The two watched as Y/n tried to shut the gate behind her, but the man’s foot wedged inside as he smirked triumphantly at Y/n.

And the presence of Azriel was gone from behind Hazel.

The door opened, and Hazel turned in time to see Azriel practically fly out the door, Truthteller clutched in his hand.

Oh, someone’s dying today.

"Back off!" Hazel hurried over to the door to peer out at the scene, eyes wide as her father called out.

The man’s face crumpled in fear, and he took a step back from Y/n, who turned to look at her husband. If Hazel had to be honest, it was quite funny watching one of the most feared males in all of prythian stand in front of his house with a red shirt and a stained apron on, threatening a male in broad daylight without a care.

"I swear to the mother if I see you ever again, you are going to be buried before you can even blink." Azriel growled, brandishing his dagger.

"For-forgive me, sir. I did not know she was yours-"

"And that should not matter. Don’t let me catch you harassing another female again, or-"

But that man was gone.

Azriel turned to Y/n, smiling. "Are you alright?"

Y/n grinned at him. "I am."

Azriel effortlessly grabbed the bags from his wife’s hands and shifted them to one of his, then wrapped the other one around her waist.

"Did he do something?"

Y/n shook her head, laughing. "You almost killed him before he could."

Azriel grinned, smug. "Glad to hear that."

He led his wife inside the house, casting a searching look outside before closing the door. Y/n shot Hazel an exasperated smile behind his back, making her giggle.

Hazel had always wished to have a love like her parents, but each day, she wondered if she would rather stay by herself.

Because there was no way there was someone out there who loved as Azriel loved Y/n.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[bjlipss]

— bug, part v.

contents: college!sukuna x weird!reader. weird as in just odd and confusing behaviour but nonetheless cute, nothing pervy-weird. reader wears glasses because yes. really awkward and silly hehe. also there is a use of “girlfriend” in here so ig fem reader should be mentioned.

part iv <- part v -> part vi

you are both in the library.

not because either of you are studying. not really.

you’re curled up in one of the weird, saggy armchairs near the back—hoodie too big, socked feet tucked under you, notebook propped awkwardly on your knees. you’re not even pretending to do anything academic. your textbook’s open on the table beside you, forgotten, while you scribble doodles into the margins of your notes like it’s a commissioned masterpiece.

there’s a frog with a sword. a duck in sunglasses. something that might be a hedgehog in a cape.

you’re also humming. low and wandering. not a tune he recognizes, and maybe you don’t either—you keep shifting the melody halfway through, then giggling softly to yourself like your brain changed channels mid-song.

sukuna’s sitting across from you, textbook cracked open on his lap, posture loose and lazy like he’s got all the time in the world. and technically, he does. he’s already skimmed the chapter. already skimmed the quiz. already skimmed three possible excuses to ditch group work next week.

but he’s not looking at the page.

he’s watching you.

he doesn’t even realize it at first—how long he’s been staring. how quiet he’s gotten.

your hair’s a mess. your glasses keep slipping down your nose. you’ve chewed halfway through your pen cap, and your shoelaces are still untied from this morning. and you’re not even trying to be quiet—just softly off in your own world, like it never occurs to you to shrink yourself down.

and somehow, he doesn’t want you to.

he glances down at his notes. blinks. tries to focus.

then looks at you again.

you’re drawing something new now. a little bat with cartoonishly huge eyes and a speech bubble that says “i crave blood and validation.”

his lips twitch before he can stop them.

you notice.

your gaze flicks up—quick, sharp. “what?”

his mouth opens.

and then he says, too fast, “you wanna come to my game?”

you blink.

“…what game?”

he clears his throat. suddenly, very interested in the pattern of the wood grain on the table.

“basketball. tomorrow night. we’re playing against southfield.”

you tilt your head, curious. “are they the ones with the scary mascot?”

“…it’s a goose.”

“yeah. terrifying.”

he huffs a laugh, soft and embarrassed. rubs the back of his neck. “you don’t have to or whatever. i just—figured you’d like it. it gets loud. chaotic. you like loud shit.”

you grin.

“okay.”

he blinks. “yeah?”

you nod. “i’ll bring a sign. and confetti. maybe a kazoo.”

he groans, dragging a hand down his face. “jesus. please don’t bring a kazoo.”

you lean forward, eyes bright. “you can’t stop me.”

he rolls his eyes, fighting a smile, and you go back to your doodles like he didn’t just invite you into his world a little bit. like it’s easy. like it means something.

—

the gym is packed. humid and echoey and full of noise.

the bleachers are overflowing. the ref’s whistle shrieks every two minutes. the other team’s fans are booing already, and someone spilled nachos on the court.

and you’re there.

front row. bouncing in your seat. wearing his hoodie—his actual hoodie, which he only lent you as a joke and immediately regretted because you looked so stupidly happy to wear it.

you wave when you see him jog out with his team, hands cupped around your mouth.

“GO SUKUNA! BREAK THEIR LEGS! OR RULES! OR BOTH!”

he snorts. tries not to smile. fails.

his teammates elbow him, whisper stuff, smirk, but he doesn’t care. not when you’re waving that crooked sign you made with sparkly markers and duct tape that says “#1 BASKETBALL MENACE” with what appears to be a drawing of him dunking a goose.

the game itself is rough. fast. brutal.

southfield’s team is good—long-legged and sharp-elbowed and fast on the rebounds—but sukuna’s better. faster. meaner. he scores three baskets in the second half alone. when he shoves past their point guard to land the final shot, the whole gym explodes.

they win by four points.

the whistle blows.

the crowd surges to its feet.

and then—before he can even breathe—you’re there.

you leap over the bleachers like it’s a war zone, stumbling slightly but recovering fast, and run straight to him across the court, absolutely beaming.

“THAT WAS AMAZING,” you shout, grabbing his arm with both hands. “you did that spinny jump thing! and then the swoosh! and then you yelled at the ref—oh my god, that was so hot—”

he blinks down at you, flushed and sweaty and grinning so wide his face might crack.

“you don’t know anything about basketball,” he points out, a little breathless.

you shake your head violently. “nope! not a clue!”

“you just called a layup a ‘spinny jump thing.’”

“yeah! and it was the coolest shit i’ve ever seen!”

he laughs. actually laughs. the sound cracks right out of him—bright and sharp and real. and you’re still holding his arm, squeezing it like it’s the only thing anchoring you.

he hesitates.

then says, quiet, “you wanna come over later?”

you blink. “like. to your dorm?”

“i can… tell you about the game. the rules. what the spinny jump thing’s actually called.”

you light up like he just offered you front-row seats to the moon.

“yes. absolutely. teach me all the ball lore.”

he snorts. “never say that again.”

“no promises.”

and then you’re walking beside him through the crowd, still rambling, still glowing, and he can’t help it—his hand reaches up, gentle and automatic, to push your glasses up your nose where they’ve slid halfway down again.

you blink, startled.

then beam at him.

and he reaches up again—this time to ruffle your hair, fingers combing through the mess like it’s something he’s allowed to touch.

you lean into it without thinking.

and somewhere in the blur of noise and sweat and laughter, he realizes:

you’re his favorite win tonight.

—

his dorm isn’t as much of a mess as you expected.

a little cluttered, yeah—hoodies draped over his desk chair, empty water bottles on the windowsill, a pair of sneakers half-kicked under the bed—but it smells clean. woodsy. like laundry detergent and something sharp underneath that’s just him.

you step inside, slow and curious, still holding the bag of vending machine snacks he insisted you didn’t need to bring.

“so this is the lair of the basketball menace,” you hum, peeking at his bookshelf. “i expected more… chaos. broken trophies. claw marks on the wall.”

he snorts, toeing the door shut behind you. “those are in my evil backup dorm.”

“ah. the one in hell.”

he chuckles, shaking his head, and crosses the room to yank a hoodie off his desk chair and toss it onto his bed. you settle into the chair without waiting for permission, crossing your legs and tearing open a packet of sour candy.

he raises an eyebrow. “that’s my chair.”

you grin. “i’m your guest. this is diplomacy.”

he doesn’t argue—just walks over and sits on the bed instead, close enough that your knees brush against his when he leans forward to grab a bottle of water.

“so,” you say, mouth full of sugar, “tell me the basketball secrets. what was that thing where you jumped like a frog and then spun like a gremlin and then landed like a swan?”

he stares at you.

“…a layup.”

“bless you.”

he huffs a laugh, dropping his head into his hands for a second like he needs to gather strength. “okay. alright. lesson one: do not describe sports like they’re cryptid mating rituals.”

“but that’s my only frame of reference.”

he throws a piece of candy at you. you catch it in your mouth with a triumphant squeak.

“focus,” he says, pointing a finger at you. “basketball. it’s about coordination. spacing. control. and momentum. you don’t just run around like an idiot trying to get the ball in.”

you tilt your head. “so it’s like murder chess. but fast.”

“jesus christ.”

“you’re doing great.”

he glares. but it’s a soft glare, the kind he aims at you more often now. like he’s not really mad. like he doesn’t know how to be.

he shifts on the bed, legs stretching out a little, one knee knocking gently against yours again.

you don’t move away.

“okay,” he says, quieter this time. “you saw when i blocked that guy at the end, right? that’s called a charge. you plant your feet, and if they run into you, it’s a foul on them.”

“ohh,” you nod, thoughtful. “so you baited him.”

“kind of.”

“like psychological warfare.”

he sighs. “sure.”

“can you teach me that?”

he looks up. “what?”

“the foot thing. the standing-your-ground move.” you gesture vaguely with your half-empty candy bag. “i’d like to charge people in my life. for crimes.”

“you’d fall over.”

“not if you believe in me.”

he laughs again—more like a puff of breath this time, shaking his head like he’s trying to hide how fond it sounds.

“i’ll teach you,” he mutters.

you beam.

for a moment, the room goes quiet—soft and buzzing and still. the lights are dim. the windows cracked open. your socked foot nudges against his again, deliberate this time, and he doesn’t pull away.

he watches you—really watches you. the way your glasses have slid halfway down your nose again. the way your hoodie sleeves have swallowed your hands. the way your smile hasn’t left since the moment you walked in.

“you’re happy,” he says quietly.

you blink. glance up at him. “of course i’m happy.”

“…why?”

you look at him like it’s obvious.

“because you invited me.”

he opens his mouth. closes it.

because he’s not used to that answer.

not used to people being happy just to be where he is. not without expecting something back. not without reading into it. not without laughing or pushing or prying.

you twist around in the chair a little, knee brushing his again, closer this time. “also, i got to yell about your legs in public, so. that was cathartic.”

he groans.

you laugh.

and then—softly, almost like you don’t realize you’re doing it—you reach forward. one hand, hesitant, rising to brush at his forehead, where it’s still a little damp with cool sweat. your fingers graze his temple.

“you’re sweaty,” you murmur, nose wrinkling.

he raises an eyebrow. “you ran to me.”

“yeah, because you were dazzling. like a sports anime protagonist.”

he laughs, quiet and helpless.

and then he reaches out, just as softly, and pushes your glasses up again where they’ve started to slip.

your breath catches.

and his hand lingers—just for a second—his thumb brushing the curve of your cheek.

then he pulls away.

you don’t say anything.

you just smile again—smaller this time, softer. and then you fold yourself into the chair, arms wrapped around your knees, and mumble, “i like it here.”

he leans back on his palms, still watching you. cute, his mind screams, as you spin around like a little kid.

—

it starts normal.

as normal as anything gets with you, anyway.

you’re flopped sideways on his bed like you live there, half under his blanket even though you insisted you weren’t cold. the game’s playing on his laptop, volume low, light flickering against the walls. he’s sitting beside you, legs on the floor, back to the edge of the mattress, trying to explain what a pick and roll is without dying of secondhand embarrassment.

you are, predictably, not paying attention.

“what if,” you murmur, chewing on a piece of candy you found in your pocket, “instead of doing basketball, they just kissed in the middle of the court?”

he doesn’t turn around. “they’d get fouled.”

“for passion?”

“for being weird.”

“bold of you to assume that wouldn’t raise morale.”

he sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face.

and then your fingers find his hair.

slow. absent. like you didn’t mean to. like your hand just drifted down from the blanket and landed there, right against the back of his head, where his hair’s still a little messy from earlier.

you comb your fingers through it once. twice.

and then you go still.

he does, too.

his mouth goes dry. his heartbeat spikes.

you’ve touched him before—high fives, shoulder bumps, the flower behind the ear thing, even his hair a bit ago—but this is different. slower. deliberate. intimate.

and worse—you don’t move.

“you okay?” he says, voice too low, too tight.

“…mhm.”

he swears he can hear your smile.

and then, as if that wasn’t enough, you shift. twist around. and lean into him from behind—your chin resting right at the curve of his shoulder, your weight warm against his back, like you’ve done this a hundred times before.

he straightens like he’s been electrocuted.

you don’t even flinch. just murmur, “comfy,” like that explains it.

his whole body’s locked up. tense. pulsing. his brain’s screaming at him to move, to shake you off, to tell you you’re invading his space and messing with his head and ruining him—but—

but you’re so soft.

and warm.

and he can feel your breath against his neck, feel the weight of you slouched against his back like you trust him enough to fall asleep there.

his hands curl into fists.

“…this is illegal,” he mutters.

“mm?” your voice is all syrup.

“this is a crime.”

you hum, noncommittal. “you’re warm.”

he covers his face with both hands. “you’re going to kill me.”

you don’t answer.

and when he turns, just slightly, he realizes—

you’re already asleep.

your face tucked into the crook of his shoulder. your glasses slipping crookedly down your nose. your breathing slow and steady and peaceful, like you didn’t just turn his entire bloodstream into static and curl up on him like a goddamn cat.

he exhales, long and quiet.

his hands hover awkwardly in the air for a second—unsure, unsteady—and then he reaches up and gently adjusts your glasses, sliding them off and placing them on the nightstand with shaking fingers.

then, hesitantly, he leans back into the bed. just a little. just enough so you’re not tilted.

just enough that you stay.

and he stares at the screen, watching the players run back and forth, hearing the echo of your earlier nonsense—

they should kiss for morale.

—and he lets out a breathless, silent laugh.

then slowly, very carefully, he lets his head tilt back against yours.

—

you wake up before he does.

not on purpose.

you’re just used to strange hours and uneven sleep, and the light coming in through his blinds is warm and gold and soft on your face. you shift a little, nose scrunching, and when you register the steady, heavy rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, you freeze.

oh.

you’re still curled up on him.

very much wrapped around him.

very much drooling on the shoulder of his hoodie.

you lift your head slowly, blinking blearily. his arms are crossed over his chest, his jaw tilted slightly to the side, his brows a little furrowed even in sleep. like he’s suspicious in his dreams. his hair’s messy again, spiked worse than yesterday, one piece sticking up at an impossible angle.

he looks unfairly good.

annoying.

you shift again, trying not to wake him, and nearly fall backwards off the bed.

his hand shoots out, grabs your wrist without opening his eyes.

“don’t,” he mumbles.

you blink.

“…don’t what?”

“fall off and die. s’too early.”

your mouth twitches.

“oh? you care?” you whisper dramatically.

he grunts. doesn’t answer.

you scoot closer again, pressing your cheek back to his chest with a little huff. “you’re grumpy in the morning.”

“you never shut up,” he mutters.

“mm, false,” you say cheerfully. “i’m just excited to be alive.”

he groans.

you go quiet for a minute. a soft kind of quiet, like the hush after a snowstorm. the game on the laptop has long since ended. the blanket’s mostly fallen to the floor. everything feels slow and syrupy and safe.

you poke his arm.

he doesn’t react.

you poke it again. harder.

“i know you’re awake,” you sing.

no response.

“sukunaaaaa.”

nothing.

“sukunaaa, do you want to hear about my dream?”

his eyes crack open just enough to glare at you. “if it involves centipedes again, i’m leaving the country.”

you gasp. “how dare— it was butterflies this time, thank you very much. and one of them had your face.”

he blinks at you.

“…what the fuck.”

you grin.

he sighs, long-suffering, but there’s the faintest curl of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. like he’s trying to be annoyed. like he wants to be annoyed. but he can’t, not really. not when you’re looking at him like that. like he hung the sun. like this little morning moment matters.

“…hey,” you murmur, suddenly a little shy. “thanks for letting me stay. i didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

he stares at you. your sleep-mussed hair. your socked feet dangling over the side of the bed. the sleepy blush on your cheeks.

he reaches out. flicks you lightly between the eyes.

“you’re annoying,” he says. quiet. fond.

you beam. “you love it.”

he doesn’t answer.

he doesn’t have to.

because a second later, you’re back under the blanket again, leaning into his side like it’s the most natural thing in the world—and he’s letting you, tucking you there with one arm, no complaints, no snide comments.

just soft breathing. and the sound of your heartbeat. and the golden hush of morning.

[writingoddess1125]

Who is it?

Remy, Rouge, Scott, Morph, Jean , Jubilee

Kurt Wagner x GNReader

Please Take this story with a grain of salt, I wrote this last night after- Shocker shocker, playing a boardgame while drunk with friends.

Enjoy!

Sunday Night

The Dining Room

The dining room was a chaotic mess of snacks, board games, and half-empty soda cans. It seemed this evening hame was Clue- Which was already a bit of a mess.

The group was gathered around the table already halfway through the game and going back and forth a bit. Especially Remy and Rouge which Jubilee was egging them on While Morph, kept shifting into different characters in the Clue game- Currently Miss Scarlett.

Scott and Jean, the resident "mom and dad" of the group, were trying to keep things civil- However utterly failing. Especially since Jean had decided to focus on the snacks a bit more then the game itself as she had resigned to keep from cheating.

"Now Morph Miss Scarlett is hotter-" Remy said with a laugh seeing how more did a little leg kick through the red dress.

"Like.. Naomi Campbell Hot or Jennifer Anderson Hot?" They asked quickly.

"Jessica Rabbit Hot-"

Jubilee said, Earning a nod in agreement and sharing a small High Five which earned Remy Glare from Rouge- and giggles from the rest of the group.

"You knowww, Where’s Kurt? He hasnt been at game night last couple times and he loves Clue"

Jubilee asked, tossing a piece of popcorn into the air and catching it in her mouth.

"Dude’s been MIA every night this week. It’s like he’s got a secret life or somethin’."

Rogue raised an eyebrow. "Now that ya mention it, he has been actin’ weird. Always sneaking off after dinner."

Gambit leaned back a bit, a sly grin spreading across his face.

"Maybe our fuzzy elf’s got himself a lady friend. Or a fella friend. Who knows"

The room erupted into giggles.

"Kurt? Hes so innocent I doubt it- I mean.." Rouge waved off, but even by the tone of her voice she wasn't sure.

Now the whole team quiet as they thought, Scott adjusted his visor, trying to look serious.

"If Kurt’s seeing is someone, it’s his business. We shouldn’t pry though."

Jean elbowed him gently. "Oh, come on, Scott. You’re not even a little curious?"

Morph, now in the form of a Professor Plum smiled, "I say we investigate. Whoever finds out who Kurt’s been sneaking off with wins... uh, bragging rights!"

"Welp I'm disqualified" Jean mumbled as she knew that her abilities would take away the fun.

"And," Gambit added, his eyes gleaming with mischief, "a week off from Danger Room duty. Losers cover the winner’s shifts."

And just like that-

The bet was on.

Monday

Rogue in the Kitchem with a Poptart

Rogue decided to take the direct approach.

She cornered Kurt in the kitchen after breakfast, her arms crossed and a smirk on her face.

"Alright, sugar, spill it. Where ya been runnin’ off to every night?"

Kurt, who was munching on what remained of a stray cherry poptart choked at the bluntness.

"Ach, Rogue! I-uh-just been... training! Ja, traininc. Lots of it."

Rogue narrowed her eyes.

"Trainin’, huh? At midnight? and Ive never seen the Danger Room active thag late-"

"Welp that's what's going on- Bye!"

Kurt said suddently as he tossed the poptart at her andteleported away in that very second, leaving Rouge with a scrunched up face and a half eaten poptart jn her hands.

Tuesday

Jubilee in the Gardens with a Coat

Jubilee decided to tail Kurt like a spy.

She donned a trench coat and sunglasses as she went behind trees and trail the male as he walked through the gardens as if looking for something.

However whenever she thought she was getting close enough to do something- he teleported to a different part of the gardens.

"Fuck-"

She hissed as she attempted to keep up, rushing through the brush of freshly watered grass which lead to- Well her sliding face first into the Mud with a loud yelp.

....

Hearing soft footsteps Jubilee looked up to See Kurt smiling down at her, knowing immediately that he knew she had been following him.

"Nice try mein Freund."

Kurt said cheerfully teleporting away with a laugh leaving Jubilee there in the mud.

Wednesday

Morph in the Study with the Teacup

Morph had this in the Bag- They knew this would be it-

Transforming into a Teacup knowing that Kurt always had tea in the Study at this hour. Wiggling their way amongst the others and almost giddy.

Waiting calmly and right on Cue- Kurt walked into the kitchen grabbing a tray and some snacks to put on it as he set a pot to boil.

Opening up the cabinets to select the cups, Kurt grabbing his normal one before picking up Morph and looking the cup over.

"Das hier ist süß"

He mumbled, clearly having someone in mind on his selection Morph and set them on the tray next to the tea snacks and now pot of tea.

Kurt Looked around hesitantly as if expected one of them to pop up- before walking into the Study and grabbing the tea pot beginning to pour into both cups-

..... "AHHHH!!"

Morph yelled out before shifting out of the cup form and jumping up and down in pain. Kurt standing there like he was seconds from a heart attack before Glaring at Morph. Who looked at the other with a smile-

"Sooo About that-"

Morph started before Kurt pointed to the door of the study, his tail flicking behind him in clear annoyance. Morph silently walking out with his head down-

Thursday

Scott in the Danger Room with a pebble

Scott had head how, well Unhappy Kurt seemed to be getting-

Especially after Morphs little stunt.

So he tried a different approach, As the team practiced in the Danger Room. He happened to be the closest to Kurt in the moment as he blasted some of the Holograms holding his visor.

"Hey Kurt- I just wanted to extend a bit of a.. olive branch Fuzzy- The team has just been curious and-"

He shot another one of the decoys as Kurt moved from a attack from one of the fake robots.

"They Just want to know who it i-"

A pebble hit Scott perfectly on the side of his head incredibly hard. Making the male look to Kurt who had clearly throw it- paired with the nastiest Glare he had ever seen on Kurt's face with his tail flicking behind him so hard it cut the air.

"..Drop. It."

Kurt growled out- Scott clearly surprised and gave a soft nod.

"Copy-"

Friday

Remy in the Hallway with a Boot

Remy sat there in his room, trying to think over how to get Kurt- It had been almost impossible to find the blue teleporting all day-

Seemingly having vanished after Scott's attempt which from what was told- Kurt was now royally pissed off.

'This was harder then I thought'

Getting up from bed he decided some water- walking down the hall with hands in his sweatpant pockets pondering to himself some ideas of where to even find him when he heard it- giggling and hushed voices?.. and he defiently reconizing one of them.

Looking at were he was near he saw it was your room-

He ranked through his brain as he thought back to your name- (Y/N)? If he remembered correctly the sweet mutant who worked as a Understudy of Dr. McCoy.

He gave it another second before hearing another sound of a second voice- fairly sure it was speaking in german, Remy stepped close pressing his ear to the door he listened in.

He heard your voice first in a clearly flirtatious way- followed by Kurt’s flustered German murmurs and giggles.

Remy’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening- or what he was hearing the 'after' of. In his shock, he leaned too hard on the door, which swung open suddently.

The scene before him was... Well Damn.

"What the Fuck!" You yell out, bright red seated on the bed, covered in hickies, bites and desperately trying to pull the blanket over yourself in a attempt for modesty.

Kurt jumping from yhe bed as he fumbling with his clothes while yelling in a mix of German and English.

"Remy! What are you—ach, du lieber Gott! OUT!-"

Gambit, recovering quickly, burst into laughter.

"Oh, mon ami, Getting it in on!!"

He backed out of the room, still cackling before a boot was thrown at him square in the nose and he ran as fast as he could while still laughing.

Hearing the angry sounds of Kurt- Not knowing German but knew the sounds of someone prepared to kick his ass and cursing him out.

Saturday

The Livingroom

Remy sat on the couch of the livingroom- Still holding the ice pack on his blackeye as the others sat around as well-

...

Rouge rubbing her temple feeling quite guilty she had pushed her poor brother this far- And also absolutely humiliating the both of you by Remy little stunt.

"So you mean to tell me, You guys went so far to drive Kurt to actually attack one of you-"

Jean said with a smile as she looked at each one of them.

"And Just to find out Kurt was gonna tell you guys anyway at this next game night and wanted to invite them- (Y/N) was just being shy"

She mused, Sipping her water with a giggle Earning a half hearted Glare from Scott who deflated and nodded, Jubilee seated next to Morph as they seemed just as drained and nodding quietly.

"And now all of you guys gotta do all of Kurt's Danger Room duty for the next 6 months, and his chores AND pay for their next date nights for the month- Hope it was worth it"

Remy was the first to speak up pulling the pack from his eye.

"No- No it was not.. "

[siriuslystyle1989]

Im yours, but you're not mine

Azriel x Archeron!reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff

masterlist

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Sitting down at the table, Y/n watched all the happy couples in her family partner off.

Rhysand was running his fingers through Feyre's hair while little Nyx babbled happily in her lap, Nesta and Cassian held each others hands under the table, Amren was quite literally on top of Varian and Mor and Emerie were sat gossiping and drinking wine.

Y/n turned her gaze to her twin sister, Elain. Who had, not only one, but two males trying to get her attention. Her mate, Lucien whom she had recently been trying to get along with more was sat to her left smiling as she spoke.

On her right however, sat the shadow singer, Azriel. Someone Y/n had been practically infatuated with since she arrived in Velaris, yet, he payed her little mind, opting to speak to her sister instead.

Azriel sat listening intently to Elain, adding little comments here and there and paying no mind to anyone else whatsoever.

It struck Y/n suddenly, like a stab to her heart, she was alone.

The only one out of her sisters to not have a mate.

Alone.

The word hung in her mind like itch she couldn't reach, and she felt tears well up in her eyes.

Attempting to push them back down Y/n sucked in a breath and Nesta turned to her looking concerned. She raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow as if to say 'are you alright?'

Y/n meekly swallowed and stood up "I- I'm just going- i'm just going to go to the bathroom"

she quickly walked into the bathroom where she began to sob.

"Y/n? Y/n are you alright?" Elain's voice traveled past the door.

"Yes Elain im okay-"

"Please let me in, I know you aren't"

Y/n reluctantly opened the door revealing her sobbing form.

"Oh Y/n... what happened!" Elain cooed pulling her twin into a hug

"N-nothing I just- I- I was looking at all of you, happily coupled and- I just- I started to feel lonely..."

Elain's face morphs into an empathetic frown as she strokes my hair.

"it's so silly- but- I cant help being jealous of you. W-why d-does nobody want me?" Y/n said quietly, her voice cracking.

Elain abruptly groaned loudly "Honestly why is it always me sorting out relationship issues!"

Y/n's brows furrow, hurt by her sudden discontentment "w-what"

"no! no I didn't mean it like that I meant- wait here"

Elain gets up quickly and leaves.

Y/n sits on the floor of the bathroom wiping her eyes as Elain comes back.

"Here." Elain then shoved Azriel in front of Y/n

"Im so done with your guys' bullshit please just speak and leave me alone." she walked away muttering to herself.

"Azriel?" Y/n questions, confused.

He shuffled from side to side, nervous and completely out of character.

"Y/n... I need to tell you something, can we go- outside?"

Y/n nodded getting up off the floor and following him outside.

"Azriel... what's happening- I-"

"Y/n you're my mate." Azriel blurted out.

"w-what? but- but I thought you and- you and-" Y/n stumbled over her words completely overwhelmed.

"Me and Elain? absolutely not, she and Lucien are serious now- she was just helping me with- well- letting me talk at her about you really..."

Y/n let out a shaky breath "Are- are you pranking me?"

Azriel's brows furrowed "No! gods no y/n not at all!"

he moved to encircle her into a hug "I'm yours if you'll have me sweetheart."

"Ive- ive liked you ever since I first saw you Azriel- I just- I thought you wanted Elain."

"Oh love" he sighed kissing her hair. "I want you- all I want is you- day in day out, I talk Elain's ear off."

Y/n smiled tearily up at him.

"There's that pretty smile hmm?" he cooed looking down at the girl.

"can I- can I kiss you?" Y/n murmured.

"You don't even have to ask" Azriel whispered.

Suddenly, their lips attached in rhythmic perfection, holding each other close.

a chorus of whoops and cheers are heard from inside and the pair start laughing into the kiss.

"mate." Azriel murmured into Y/n's soft lips.

"mate." She replied.

Maybe she wasn't so alone after all.

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my requests are always open!!