#they’re trying to frame this as oh it’s good for him he can say all he needs to say

[thegoogoomuckkk]

Will you be doing more the Club series? I miss it so much, I can’t wait for more it’s so hot.

club -> businessman -> nanami isn't exactly what you expected out of your third client. . .but that doesn't mean you're complaining

the time for being nervous had long since passed. any reservations you had about sleeping with the world’s strongest sorcerers had been shoved down deep inside; there wasn’t any time for that. between dancing at the club as usual & your nights spent with scheduled clients, there was hardly any time to spend with your thoughts, & maybe that was a good thing. there was time, however, to tear shiu a new asshole. 

“listen, they’ve already paid, doll. ain’t anything I can do about it now. besides, you’re always telling me I don’t pay you enough. I’m paying you plenty, now, aren’t I?”

“oh please, your cheap ass still isn’t paying me enough. they’re paying me,” you murmur, & he’s rolls his eyes. 

“you’re gettin’ paid, yeah? that’s all that matters. now was there something you needed, or do you just like to waste my time?”

“both,” you sneer, leaning over his desk, palms flat against the cheap mahogany. cheap, that was a good word to describe him. “who’s my sunday appointment?” 

his smile makes you violent. “can’t tell you that. just that he’s paid a shit ton for your appointment.”

“so when he murders me, you gonna sprinkle that cash over my grave?”

“he’s not gonna murder you, drama queen. I checked him out, he’s clean as can be.”

you left his office with more questions than answers. shiu knew who it was, but he wouldn’t tell you. 4 whole hours to a random stranger. you couldn’t dwell on it too long, you had a schedule to keep, & apparently so did your client. 10:15pm sharp.

this was gonna be easy-peasy, you thought, pulling the door open to the club. tonight worried you the least out of any of your appointments. a blowjob was the most mundane thing a man could’ve asked you for. 

you were sitting on the edge of the bed, cool & smooth, when the door swung open at 10:14pm. holy motherfucking shit. kento nanami was probably the most attractive man you’d ever seen. you were ready for him to grab you by the scalp & force his cock down your throat. in fact, you weren’t just ready for it, you wanted it. giving this fine piece a blowjob was going to be your pleasure. 

“hello.”

you bit back a laugh. “hi.” you surveyed him further, attempting to look past the face & muscles—as hard as it was—suit & tie, silver rolex, thinly-framed glasses. everything about him was arousing, you were having a hard time containing yourself. 

“so, it said ‘oral sex’ on your file,” you say matter-of-factly. there was no easy way to segue into these kinds of situations, but nanami seemed like a matter-of-fact kind of guy. & you liked that. 

"that's correct," nanami replied, his voice deep & smooth. he loosened his tie slightly as he approached you, his gaze intense behind those thin frames. "but I'd like to clarify something first."

“oh?” 

he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, & god, even that was hot. "I know that I…paid for your…services,” he clears his throat. & you can see it in his eyes, though they’re averted from yours. he’s embarrassed. good. “but I’m not interested in doing anything that you’re not explicitly comfortable with. so if, at any point, you’re not—comfortable, that is—then we’ll stop. is that clear?” 

you nod, thoughts too jumbled to say anything. but he doesn’t like that. maybe he doesn’t argue, but you can tell, he wants your verbal consent. “yes, nanami. it’s clear,” you try to tease, to be flirty, to be anything but disturbed by how hot this guy was. the pictures don’t do him justice. 

“good.” 

he eyes you like a predator as you stand up from your seated position & take a couple steps toward him. you subtly gesture for him to sit, but he gives you a confused look. “wouldn’t you rather lie down?” 

you snort. “lie down to suck your dick?” you give him the same confused, questioning gaze. "I guess if that’s how you want it.” 

a soft smile touches his lips. “pardon me, but I think you read my request wrong,” he says. “or at least, misinterpreted what I meant. I don’t play on letting you��” he doesn’t even think he can say it, but finally he spits out: “suck my dick,” in a hushed, humiliated tone. “by oral sex, I meant, giving.” 

“oh.” 

“yes, oh.” 

you retreat back to where you were sitting, the backs of your knees bumping against the bed. yes, per your request, shiu had finally moved you to a room with a bed. he follows your movements, both with his eyes & body. 

you were. . .what was this feeling? nervous? excited? no, confused. this man was paying to eat you out. it would be physically impossible for him to be more attractive. but. . .why? why couldn’t he get a girlfriend to do this with? you can’t imagine what straight woman wouldn’t want that.

“may I kiss you?” he accepts your nod this time, & leans down to press his lips against yours. he was so big & tall. he commanded your space, forced his way into it until all you could comprehend was the presence of him. his lips on yours, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip, his hands finding their grip on your waist. you let him push you both back, until you're flush with the bed, head softly rested on the pillows, his knee on the cheap comforter in between your thighs. 

your breath catches in your throat as nanami hovers over you, his eyes dark with desire. he pulls back slightly, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. "Is this alright?" he asks, his voice low & husky.

you nod eagerly, then remember his preference for verbal consent. "yes," you breathe. "more than alright."

a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he leans in again, this time trailing kisses along your neck. his hands move to push up your shirt, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake. you arch into him, desperate for more contact.

nanami takes his time, methodically undressing you between kisses & caresses. his touch is reverent, almost worshipful, as he explores every inch of newly exposed skin. his gaze roams over your body, appreciation evident in his eyes. "beautiful," he murmurs, & a small wire snaps in your stomach. this was not a regular session; you didn’t have this kind of sex with…anyone, really, but especially not club patrons. in fact, you can’t remember a time in which a customer went down on you, ever. & more concerning was: you wanted him to, despite how…personal it was. 

 you squirm beneath him, desperate for more. "patience," he murmurs against your collarbone, & you’re sure the deep bass of his voice vibrates straight to your cunt. he trails his lips down your neck, between your breasts, & he seems fixated there for a while, mouth wrapped around the soft skin, sucking the nipple, his other palming your breast, & you let out a breathless whine. he slides his fingers down to your underwear, pressing the pads of them firmly against the soft fabric covering your clit. he rubs soft & slow, & you’re so deeply concerned by how good it feels. needless to say, this is not what you were expecting. finally, he allows himself to bring his lips down to your panties, licking the already wet spot covering the front of them. he hooks his fingers through the material around your hips, slowly pulling them down. 

your breath catches as the cool air hits your exposed skin. he lets out a low groan at the sight of you, vulnerable & wanting. his warm breath ghosts over your inner thighs as he moves closer, planting soft kisses along sensitive skin. you shiver in anticipation, hands fisting in the sheets.

he teases you mercilessly, lips & tongue exploring everywhere but where you need him most. just when you think you can't take it anymore, he finally, finally drags his tongue along your slick folds. you cry out, hips bucking involuntarily. he holds you steady with strong hands on your thighs as he works you over with his mouth, alternating between broad strokes & focused attention on your clit. his strong hands grip your thighs, holding you open for him. the pleasure builds steadily as he works you with his tongue, fucking it in & out of you, nose bumping against your clit. & when he decides that’s just not quite enough, he presses one finger softly in & out of your dripping hole. never pushing it all the way in ‘cause he doesn’t want to hurt you. 

your body tenses as the sensation builds to an almost unbearable intensity. with a muffled cry, you tumble over the edge into blissful release. waves of pleasure crash over you as your muscles clench rhythmically around his fingers. he doesn't let up, working you through each aftershock until you're gasping & oversensitive.

only then does he slowly withdraw his fingers & place a gentle kiss on your inner thigh. you lie there panting, feeling boneless & sated.

but he’s not done, you realize, hiking your thighs over his shoulders, burying his face into your cunt again. you’ve barely had time to recover & he’s starting his ministrations again, this time harder & faster, & you writhe in his grip, mewling & whimpering about it’s “t-too much, can’t-can’t take it.” 

your brain goes soft & fuzzy when he says, “you can take it, m’gonna give it to you.” you’re sure no one has ever taken more pleasure out of giving oral sex than nanami is right now. 

his tongue swirls relentlessly, finding every sensitive spot as if he's memorized your body. you arch your back, fingers tangling in his hair as waves of sensation crash over you. it's overwhelming, almost painful in its intensity, but you can't bring yourself to push him away.

"that's it," he murmurs against your flesh, the vibrations making you shudder. 

you're trembling, teetering on the edge of overstimulation. but nanami is relentless, his strong hands gripping your thighs to keep you spread open for him. you're making sounds you've never heard yourself make before—desperate, needy whimpers punctuated by breathless gasps.

just when you think you can't take anymore, he sucks hard on your clit & you shatter. your second orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, & you’re seeing spots, tugging painfully on his hair, nails raking against his spiky undercut, & he’s moaning into your cunt. if you were anywhere near coherency right now, you’d notice him pathetically humping against the mattress, mindlessly, too focused on your pretty pussy to actually get off. 

“nanami,” you whine. he looks up at you with hooded eyes, covered by his lashes. 

“did you want to stop?” 

"I-i–no, I just—you don’t have to do that anymore, not if you don’t want to.” it’s hard to say anything, to think after having his mouth on you, his tongue in you. but you do your best, try to sit up on your elbows .”we can do s-someth—”

"I'd like to continue doing this.” it’s so direct, so stern, but pleading also. "If you’re alright with that.” 

you can’t help but nod along, brain soft, thoughts gone. "y-yes," you manage to stammer out, your voice barely above a whisper. "please."

nanami's eyes flash with something intense, a mix of desire & determination. without another word, he lowers his head again, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. you shiver in anticipation, your body already yearning for his touch.

his tongue resumes its exploration, slow & deliberate at first, then growing more insistent. you fall back onto the bed, unable to support yourself any longer. your fingers tangle in his hair, not guiding, just needing something to hold onto as waves of pleasure wash over you. 

you can’t fathom what this could possibly be doing for him, but it’s obvious that he’s enjoying this in some perverse way; not that you were complaining. you lost track of how many times you came on his tongue, but a soft alarm went off in your soft, pliant head after a while. it had been a lot longer than an hour & a half. but with how good he made you feel, you didn’t think charging him was fair. 

regardless of how you felt, the next day, there was far more money than shiu had charged him & a bouquet of roses on your makeup table. all the girls ooh’ed & ahh’ed at it when you walked in. everyone wanted to see, but you kept the little note to yourself. it was thick cardstock paper that somehow smelt like his cologne. 

"I know roses are cliche, but I didn’t know what you liked. after last night, I'd love to know what else you like.”

crazy that you sent this, anon, because I literally woke up this morning wondering why I never finished this series?? I'm on it 🫡 did you like it? -> here's my masterlist -> want something more? ask me for it

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

That is so nice of you honestly, i think the the ask was how a yan alucard would take advantage of his position of power in the village post season 4, and if he and the people(the villages people, the orphans, sypha and Trevor) around him would pressure his fem love interest/obsession into being with him because of all he has done for them making it very difficult to reject his advances with out becoming a social outcast .Like I can imagine a darker version of him proposing to his Darling in a public space surrounded by the aforementioned people and villagers for that very reason. And side note do you think he would turn his Darling so they could be together for ever?

A/N: Yes, oh my gosh, yes! A Yandere! Alucard would 100% use his position of power over her to gently “guide” her into falling for him. And I do think, that yes, a Yandere! Alucard would eventually try to turn his Darling. I like to think that it might take some extra dark magic, as he is not a full vampire, but that he goes down that path willingly for her (regardless of how she feels about it) because once he falls, he falls hard, and he cannot imagine living without her.

TW: Toxic/Manualpative Relationship, and Brief Mentions of Sex and Pregnancy 

Yandere! Village Leader Alucard Headcanons: 

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who always insists on “helping” his Darling, and whatever group she happens to be in. ‘Ah, you’re on kitchen duty today. Well it's a good thing that my Mother taught me to cook.’ & ‘Barn raising? Surely your tiny frame is no match for such a strenuous job. Here, allow me.’ 

You don’t like feeling helpless, but you couldn’t say ‘no’. That would be such a rude thing to deny the very Savior of your people. 

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard, who is always so kind, and attentive. One who chooses to spend most of the free time he has at gatherings putting the spotlight on his Darling so that he may listen to her speak. ‘Hmm, what an interesting Speaker tradition, Sypha. Tell me, (Y/N), what sort of traditions remind you of home?’ 

You’re running out of things to share with him, it seems everything you could say about yourself he seems to already know.

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who memorizes every little detail his Darling shares, and uses it to his advantage, all the while pretending such occurrences are mere coincidence. ‘I found these flowers blooming on the other side of the castle and I thought of you. Truly? How lucky, I had no idea these were your favorite flowers.’ & ‘Hmm, now that you mention it, I believe Mother had an old dress in that color. Why don’t you wait here while I go and fetch it for you?’ 

The dress fits perfectly, huh. How odd that you and Alucard’s mother must have been the same size. 

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who “lets it slip” in conversation with Trevor and Sypha just how madly in love he is with his Darling, prompting his married friends to conspire together, coming up with ways to make you see Alucard’s love. ‘I can only hope she shares the same affection, although I must admit, I am unsure of how to tell her of my feelings.’ ‘& ‘Do you mean to say you’ll help me win her devotion?’ 

Did Sypha always talk up Alucard like that? Trevor sure keeps talking an awful lot about being married, even for a newlywed. 

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who always speaks your praises to the children, about how smart, loving, and fun you are so that when they call on him to play games, they’re always scheming to get you to play as well. ‘I must admit I’ve pondered over whether I have the ability to have my own.’ & ‘Don’t believe I haven’t seen the way you light up when the children call you Mother.’ 

Wait? Don’t they also call Alucard, Father?

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who insists on caring for you by himself, anytime you become the least bit injured or ill. He insists you stay within the walls of the castle for the time being, as opposed to in your cottage with your family outside. ‘I know the castle can feel overwhelming at times, but please, try to think of it as a mere extension of your home.’ & ‘I do wish you’d let me take better care of you, Darling. You’re too important of a person around here to be laid out sick so often.’ 

You didn't used to fall ill so often. What the hell is happening to you?!

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who makes a very public display of asking for your hand, one evening during a solstice festival. All eyes are on you as you smile, and you a faint chorus of applause as you accept the dhampir’s proposal. ‘It would be my utmost honor to marry you, my Darling.’ & ‘You are making me the happiest man alive.’ 

Not as if you could say no with all the other villagers and your family watching. They want this for you too, so, this marriage must be a good idea, right?

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who arranges for you to be wed as soon as possible. One of the castle’s largest halls is transformed into a makeshift chapel as Sypha performs the wedding rites. Greta acts as your Maiden of Honor, while Alucard slots Trevor in as his Best Man. All of the villagers- your family included- are there to watch the ceremony, with laughter and joyful tears in their eyes. ‘I know it’s not a church wedding, Darling. But you understand, I doubt we’d find a Priest anywhere willing to marry the son of Dracula.’ 

You look like royalty in the dress Alucard provided you, so you try to ignore how the cuffs of your dress’s bishop sleeves feel like weighted shackles upon your wrists. 

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who promises you can’t get pregnant the first time you have sex. He’d know of course, silly! His Mother was a Doctor after all. Just let him love you… No, let him worship you, mind, body, and soul. ‘Besides, I’m quite certain dhampirs are sterile. It would take a miracle for us to make a child together.’ & ‘Even if it were to happen, it’s not the end of the world, is it? We are wedded after all.’  

If that’s not a goal, why does he insist on always flipping you over so that he can watch your expression as he finishes inside you? 

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who swears you will make incredible parents, and he could not be happier to have a large family with you. You have so much knowledge and wisdom to impart, creating this legacy with him is a great act of service for the world. And Alucard promises, as soon as you’re done having his children, maybe two or three, he’ll change you into a vampire so that you can enjoy the fruits of your labor at his side- forever. ‘Just imagine it, Darling. Neither one of us will be lonely ever again.’ & ‘We’ll be each other’s soulmate for all eternity.’ 

Surely, eternity isn’t all that long. 

Right?

A/N: I hope you liked it! I was trying a different style/format here, so I apologize if it isn't what you expected. My mom’s having surgery this week, so I didn’t get as much writing/editing time as expected. 

Please Like, Leave and Comment, and REBLOG if you enjoyed it!

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[thegayestdiaz]

eddie is mentally unwell, he’s destroyed by grief and trauma and can only act put together for so long. him losing the plot when confronted with a literal reminder of his dead wife and trying to recreate the life they could’ve had is so wrong but makes sense for his situation. kim on the other hand, girl what the fuck is wrong with you? he tells your that he only wanted you because you were a clone of his deceased wife and instead of running far, far away you decided this is the perfect opportunity to dust off your acting skills? that man is sick and you are fucking with his feelings, get away from him?

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Sleeping, Dancing and Mistletoe

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> Times when people found evidence that you and Logan were possibly a couple, and the one time you both finally confirmed it.

Disclaimer: Mostly fluff, mentions/illusions to sex, Logan checking you out. Couple of swear words here and there. This has been unfinished in my drafts for at least a week so...yeah. This is finished. little Christmas at the end. Not Proof Read.

For what felt like the thirtieth time in the hour, you turned over with a huff and pressed your pillow to your ears, trying to muffle the sounds coming from next door. 

And just as it finally died down, you sighed and was just about to thank some ancient being for hearing your prayers when…it started again. 

“That’s it.”

Changing out of your longer pyjama bottoms and into some sleep shorts, you made your way out of your room, keeping your footsteps as quiet as you could until the noises faded away and you started to reach your intended room. 

Opening up the door, you found exactly what you were looking for. 

Shaking his shoulder as he lay on his stomach, you whispered his name, hoping he’d hear you. 

“Logan.” You shook him for a third time. “Logan.” 

Nothing. 

With another sigh, you slapped his face gently and said his name once more, a little louder and firmer. 

“Logan.”

Finally, he groaned. “What?” 

His voice was muffled by his pillow but you could hear him just well enough. Or maybe you were just used to his grunts that they were starting to become their own language you could understand. 

“Move over. I’m sleeping here tonight.”

“What’s wrong with your bed?”

“Nothing.”

“Then go and sleep there.” Logan turned his head away from you and scrunched up his pillow beneath his head.

“I can’t. My neighbours have decided tonight is Valentine’s Day 2.0.”

You pushed half of his body with your hands until he finally got the cue to turn over. 

“Too much information.”

You shook your head, “Too much information is what I’ve been hearing for the last hour.”

Finally, Logan rolled onto his back, his covers covering his bottom half, and groaned. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

Logan straightened himself in his bed, giving you room to get in beside him. And the minute you touched his covers, you were glad you had changed into shorts. 

Logan was like a furnace. Just constant heat radiating from his body and for as much as it, at times, got too hot to stand near him, he was also, in your opinion, the best person to fall asleep beside. 

“Just shut up and go to sleep.”

Laying on your side, it wasn’t long until you closed your eyes, thankful that you could hear nothing other than Logan’s steady breathing and the distant clock down the hall that was forever ticking. 

However, just before you fully drifted off, you felt Logan’s hand take hold of yours and you smiled. 

He could be gruff all he liked, but when it came to you, he could be a softie. 

By the time morning rolled around, Storm was in search of both yourself and Logan. So, when she found your bed empty and cold, she figured Logan would know where you were. 

But he was asleep. 

Right beside you. 

Storm leaned against the door frame for a while, taking in the picture in front of her. 

Logan was fast asleep, something that was a miracle in itself, with you right beside him, your head turned towards the windows in his room, his own looking towards you, all the while, his arm slung over your midsection and one of your own hands, holding his. 

“Storm- what are you- Oh.”

Jean looked inside. 

“Looks like someone had a good night.” She smiled before looking back at Storm. “Do you think we can finally ask if they’re together?”

“I’d say this is confirmation enough.”

You shifted in your sleep as did Logan, and the two girls hid behind the corner for a moment. 

You turned your head and the rest of your body towards Logan, all the while his arm held you in a stronger grip and pulled you towards him. 

It took you a moment but you finally opened your eyes, adjusting to the light before your vision finally cleared on a sleeping Logan. 

For a moment, you allowed the hand between you both to reach up and brush the stray hairs from his eyes. It was rare you ever got to see Logan this…calm. 

Serene. 

Rested. 

Unknowingly, you started to run your left thumb over Logan’s arm that still held onto you. 

Then his fingers twitched, running over the exposed skin at the bottom of your back. 

“Are you watching me sleep?” His voice was rough, the first words in the morning. 

“Not anymore,” you smiled, brushing the final parts of his hair out of his face. 

“Thanks for letting me stay.”

Then a cough came from the door. 

Logan groaned. “Is this a new hobby; watching people sleep?”

Jean and Storm laughed from the door. “You two look cosy.”

You lifted your head and glared at Jean. “There is one reason I’m here. Maybe I think it’s time you make an investment in soundproof walls.”

Jean turned a little red and Storm laughed. 

“Look, we’ve got a busy day. You can kiss your boyfriend later.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you called out just as Logan called; “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Storm and Jean nodded and just as Jean snapped a picture, she sent it to both yourself and Logan as they walked away. 

“Sure.”

Leaning up, Logan reached for his phone to see the notification pop up before he placed it back down and you climbed out of bed. 

“They’re got a point.”

“About us being a couple?”

You threw a t-shirt at Logan. “Having a busy day.”

Logan laughed a little, scrubbing his face as he watched you leave his room before he reached behind him and took hold of his phone once more. 

Jean and Storm were right. 

From the picture…they did look like a couple. 

A couple of days passed and you were sitting in the quiet living room, the fires on both sides roaring. 

All classes had been finished for two days and some kids had returned home for the holidays, which meant you had some free time on your hands. 

And for you, that meant finally reading. 

Until you sensed someone stood behind you. 

“If you want to know what happens, you could just ask me.”

Logan plucked the book from your hands and circled around the sofa before coming to sit down beside you. 

“Logan! Give it back.”

“I want to see what it’s about.”

You sighed and sat up, “It’s a romance, Logan.”

“A romance?” Logan had a hint of a smirk on his face. “Like the…trashy kind?”

“Like the romantic kind.”

Logan looked at you and smiled. “The trashy kind.”

You rolled your eyes and took the book back from him, leaving him to fix the blanket so it rested over both of you. He placed his arm over the back of the sofa, allowing you to lean into him, whether you noticed you were doing so or not. 

“Just because you might not believe in romance, doesn’t mean the rest of us are the same.”

“I believe in romance.” 

“Yeah, right.”

Logan couldn’t help but smile. “What?”

“The Wolverine,” you said with a deep voice. “Believes in romance?”

Logan nodded. “Occasionally.”

“Occasionally?”

“Do you just like repeating everything I say?”

You nodded and smiled. “Occasionally.”

Logan rolled his eyes and took the book back from you and read a line out loud. 

“People really talk like this?”

You leaned into Logan. “No, but in a book it’s not so bad. Go on, read some more.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You nodded. “You’re like my own personal audiobook.”

Logan gave a short smile before getting a little cosier and continued reading out loud. 

It wasn’t long before Logan found you asleep against him and he shifted in order to avoid you getting a crick in your neck. 

“Keep reading.”

“I thought you were asleep.” 

“Now I’m awake.” 

“Fine, just be quiet.”

You gave a fake salute. “Yes, sir.”

Holding his arm around your body that was pressed between himself and the sofa, Logan quickly kissed the top of your head and went back to reading. 

And ten minutes later, you were asleep. 

And so was he. 

An hour passed before someone found either of you, but this time, it was Scott and Bobby. 

“They might be in- oh. What do we have here?”

“Oh my god, Rouge has to see this. I told her they were together.”

Bobby rushed off and soon returned, pulling Rouge with him. 

“What is it?” Then she gasped. 

“Believe me now?”

And what Rouge saw made her smile. 

On the slightly too small sofa for Logan, you lay both between him and the sofa, as well as partly on him with your hand a little over his heart. His head was turned towards you. The blanket had fallen a little, so she reached over and pulled it up both of you before turning around and throwing a log onto the fire. 

“Come on, let's leave them.”

“But-”

“No, you are not going to disturb them. Come on.”

Rouge dragged the pair out and closed the door behind her. 

The third time people suspected you and Logan were an item was one late evening in October. 

Half of the kids were playing outside with all the freshly fallen leaves, whilst some of the older kids helped them find different critters and point them out, and build them habitats. The rest of the kids were either in their rooms or studying. 

Save for two. 

Bobby and Rouge were hiding outside of the kitchen watching yourself and Logan cook. 

“I didn’t even know he knew how to…chop. Let alone cook.”

“You should have more faith in him.”

“Come on, Rouge. You can’t tell me you weren't thinking it, too.”

And she couldn’t. Because she was. 

Meanwhile inside the kitchen, Logan was watching you from the kitchen island as he continued chopping the veg. 

There was something different about you. From the way you practically danced around the kitchen finding the different items for the recipe, to just…you. Whilst he was (semi) shirtless, just having his zipper hoodie on, along with his jeans and socks. He would have been fully dressed, except you had come and ambushed him in his room – even though you denied the word “ambushed” – to get him to help. 

And you were just simply in your pyjamas (of sorts) along with one of his zipper hoodies. 

“Bub,”

Logan laid down his knife and walked over to you as you stood by the stove, standing a little higher to see how much water was left in the pot at the back. 

You hummed a questioned response, but was met with a question…you didn’t expect. 

“Dance with me?”

“What?”

Logan smiled lightly as he pulled the wooden spoon from your hand and pulled you closer to him, despite him walking backwards. 

“Come on,” his voice in a light whisper. “Dance with me.”

“Didn’t take you for a dancer.”

Outside the door, Bobby and Rouge mouthed to each other; “They’re dancing.”

And you both were. 

Gently swaying to the music for a while, you allowed Logan to lead you around a small space in the centre of the kitchen. 

“We’re gonna burn the sauce.”

Logan gave a slight smile at you as he spun you out and back in, “We’re not gonna burn the sauce.”

“Logan.”

“Can’t you ever just enjoy a moment?”

“When that moment doesn’t include burning the house down, yes.”

“Bit of a jump, don’t you think, from burning the sauce.”

“Ha, so you agree. We’re gonna burn the sauce.”

Moving over, Logan turned down the heat on one of the pans before taking your hand back into his. “Now we won’t.”

Bobby and Rouge watched, in shock, the rest. 

For one, Logan knew how to dance? Since when? And since when did he…cook and dance in the kitchen? Unless…

Then Logan did something even you didn’t expect. 

He dipped you. 

You hand tightened its grip on Logan’s arm as you let out a small, if a little nervous, laugh. 

Logan had been full of surprises recently. From the impromptu audiobook session in which you woke up in his arms, to him not only dropping off a cup of coffee during your break from teaching but also a freshly baked muffin. 

And now he was dancing with you in the kitchen. 

And dipping you. 

When you had rushed him out of his room to help you cook, you hadn’t expected him to know the recipe for the sauce from the top of his head. Something he just happened to rattle off whilst you were looking for the cooking notebook that should have been in the cupboard beside the oven. Let alone be the one to ask to dance in the kitchen, and dip you. 

Bring you back up, both of you gave a slight chuckle as you turned around, the music slowly fading away in the background. 

“Logan…”

Looking at him, you forgot what you were going to say. 

Had his eyes always had so much green in them? 

Logan’s palm became warm against your back as it pressed further into you. Or maybe you pressed further into him and he just held you tighter. 

Slowly, your hand left his bicep and trailed towards his chest all the while your eyes studied his face. You’d known him for years and seen him a thousand times or more. 

So why did now feel like you were seeing him for the first time? Noticing him? Noticing each particle he was made up of that allowed him to sway with you in the kitchen to the music that had changed on the radio?

Only, before the space between yourself and Logan became any more closer, a noise came from outside the door. 

A sneeze. 

A sneeze that shocked you and Logan back into reality. 

Still holding you, Logan looked towards the door and gave a hint of a smile when he saw the flash of white disappear behind the beam. 

Realising what was happening, you lowered yourself back to the ground and slowly stepped out of Logan’s arms. “We should finish up.”

Logan nodded in agreement, however did look back at you when you got back to the stove, not noticing you do the same a few moments later, watching him pick up the rest of the veg and toss it into the collider to be washed. 

Time passed and after more music, more conversation - including a burnt tongue from when you had shoved a wooden spoon with fresh sauce on, into Logan’s mouth for him to try - and a lot of scrubbing later, you found Logan sitting inside the library and collapsed next to him. 

“Good news, the kids loved the food,” you told Logan. “Double good news; Jean and Scott are on cooking duty tomorrow.”

“Thank fuck.”

“Thank you for helping me.” Turning to look at Logan, you found him already looking. 

“You did ambush me.”

“I didn’t ambush you.”

“I wasn’t dressed.” Logan examined himself. “Technically, I’m still not.”

You rolled your eyes with a slight smile. “Fine. Maybe it was a mini, tiny, miniscule ambush.” 

You made a small space between your fingers. “Like this big of an ambush.”

Logan looked at you, at your fingers and then back to you in slight disgust before moving your fingers wider with his own. 

“That big of an ambush.”

You rolled your eyes and dropped your hand. “And they say us women are dramatic.”

It was Logan’s turn to roll his eyes. However, as he did so, his arm wrapped around you, and pulled you back into him and the sofa. 

“Just shut the fuck up for a minute and listen.”

You did so. 

“I don’t hear anything.”

“That’s the point.” Logan’s eyes were shut as his head rested on the back of the sofa. 

Eventually you gave a shrug and joined him. 

An hour later, Storm found you both fast asleep beside one another so with a knowing smile, she found a blanket, covered you both up and closed the door behind her. But not before reminding herself she needed to get verbal confirmation from you both. 

She wasn’t handing over any money to Jean and Xavier until she had verbal confirmation of what exactly was going on between you two. 

And she didn’t have to wait long…at least in the long run, she didn’t have to wait long. 

Until then, there were plenty more incidents of falling asleep next to each other, bringing each other coffee, dancing to music in the kitchen, smiling and laughing – all before she finally got verbal confirmation that the inevitable had finally happened. 

Finally, it was acceptable to decorate for Christmas. 

Two days prior, Rogue, Logan and Storm had been helping you find all the old decorations in the attic and bring them down. Storm did try then to bribe something out of Rogue, but she apparently was just in the dark as the rest of them. 

But the smile she gave when she looked over at Logan, who was placing down another box from the back of the pile for you to take a look at, told Storm something different. 

“I can’t believe you leave it this late to decorate.”

Logan looked at you. “We’re still in November.”

“So?” 

Taking hold of the garland, you started to climb the ladder. Logan held onto the bottom just to be safe. 

“If you had it your way, the decorations would be up all year round.”

“Hey, no.”

“Hey, yes.”

“I’d take them down for…” you tried to think. “Halloween. You’d have a little break.”

Logan didn’t look entirely thrilled. “Halloween is one day.”

“Technically, it’s a month.”

“To you, it’s a month. To the rest of us, it’s a day.”

You looked back at him. “To you it’s a day, to the rest of us it’s a month.”

Then you looked back at the garland. “How does that look?”

“Great from where I’m standing.”

You looked a little confused for a second before quickly looking over your shoulder, realising where Logan was, in fact, looking. 

Not at the garland, but at your ass. 

You smiled and started to step down the ladder, hitting his shoulder on the way down. 

“I meant the garland.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Logan looked up. “Looks great.”

You laughed. “You didn’t even look.”

With a smile as you finally stepped back into his arm, he looked to the side and up. “It looks great.”

“Good. Now,” Logan turned back to look at you and you kissed him quickly. “We have to put up five more.”

“I get to watch you put up five more.”

You smiled. “This is why you’re my favourite person.”

Logan smiled. He could help you with everything else, but when it came to the garland, you had full control on where it went. Which, he didn’t mind. So long as he got to watch you put it up. 

You quickly kissed him once more, only to be pulled back when you tried to walk away. 

Then Logan gave you a real kiss. 

A little dizzy, you smiled and placed a hand on his chest and closed your eyes. “Wow.”

He gave you a quicker, lighter kiss. “You better get going before Rogue comes back with another box of lights.”

“Light?” Then it hit you. “Oh, yeah.”

Logan smirked a little as he watched you walk away and down the hallway. 

It was a couple of hours before everyone was in the same room, making the final touches all the while most of the other kids were either playing outside in the snow, were taking naps or decorating their own rooms. 

And the others had been watching you and Logan all day. 

The stolen glances, the stolen touches, the slightly knowing smiles from both Rogue and Bobby. And then, as Logan was helping you down from the ladder, his hand on your thigh, Bobby went to make the final hammer to hang up the mistletoe. 

“Wait, no. Not there.”

“Where then?”

Storm looked around. “I know. Y/n, hang this just above there. We don’t need a remake of Mistletoe Central 1997.”

Logan looked at Storm. “Do I wanna know?”

Storm shook her head. “Here.”

She handed you the mistletoe before Logan passed you the hammer back from his belt. 

Three knocks and the nail was set in and the mistletoe was above you on a corner beam, just a little to the side of the christmas tree. 

At least this way, those looking for it, would find it. 

"Oh, no, wait.” Jean said, looking at you. “Have to kiss someone. It’s tradition. You’re under the mistletoe.”

There was no one else apart from Logan.

Logan looked around at the others. He wondered how long it would take. 

Coming up behind you on the ladder, you moved over for him to stand beside you. His palm on your back held you steady and, leaning his other arm on the ledge of the ladder, his hand cupped your face and he kissed you. 

Lasting a little longer than the others had expected, you soon heard Rogue giving a little cheer, as well as a couple of whistles from the others. 

“Okay, I think they get it.” You whispered to Logan as he finally pulled away, a smile very noticeable on both of your faces. 

“Happy now?” Logan asked, turning towards where Jean and Scott were standing. 

“That was some kiss.”

You felt yourself blush at the comment. As did Logan. 

He helped you back down the ladder before you both turned and really saw the other's expression. As well as the exchanging of money between people. 

“Sooo…how long has this been going on?”

You were leaning into Logan, his hand around your back and on your hip. 

You looked at Logan, “A couple of months. We’re…what? November now so that would…”

“That would…” Logan counted back in his head. “May…June, July…six months.”

You looked back to the others. “Six months.”

A chorus of shocked faces and loud voices sounded out; “SIX MONTHS?!”

All before a small call from Rogue was made, which made both yourself and Logan smile. 

“I knew it!”

[nereidprinc3ss]

slumber party

in which there's only one bed. fem bau!reader x spencer reid

fluff! warnings/tags: dark humor, (the word molest is used jokingly once but in my defense your honor its completely on brand for early seasons cm humor, if u cancel me u have to cancel the whole cast those are the rules, its just a joke cause reader always flirts w him aggressively, pls don't come for me i have a wife and children and three boyfriends to take care of,) mutual pining, bullying and death threats as flirting, they love each other so much and bicker like children, glasses spencer, (moans), emily and rossi are mentioned bc canon means fuck all to me, i think thats it but this is my most out of pocket duo so if i'm wrong lmk a/n: just a silly little thing that i cooked up, not a masterpiece but i think its cute!! I hope u enjoy!! lmk what you think!! looooveee youuuu

“Oh, there is no way.”

Your duffel bag hits the dingy carpet as Spencer is still closing the door behind you. 

“What? Is it—”

You give him a look over your shoulder, eyebrows raised as if to say, what are you going to do about this?

But he only manages to meet your eyes for a split second before they’re back to the singular queen bed, darting over the white sheets and pillows like he might find another mattress if he looks hard enough. 

Sharing a room with Spencer, you can handle. You've done it before. Whenever the team has to pair up at a hotel, you two are an obvious choice. And while you occasionally butt heads, mostly you adore each other and it's great.

But sharing a bed is a whole other situation.

One you were not prepared for. And evidently, neither is he.

Watching his big anxious eyes flit around the room nervously, you feel sort of bad for your reaction. You know you can be a bit… abrasive, sometimes. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just—I’ll see if I can share a bed with Emily or JJ in their room—”

Just then there’s a knock at the door. Spencer looks relieved to have something else to focus on, turning back around and quickly undoing the latch again before opening the door to reveal your favorite raven-haired SSA. Emily leans past the doorjamb, eyes immediately honing in on the awkward sleeping arrangement. 

“Oh my god! You guys too?”

“What?” You and Spencer ask at the same time. Emily raises her eyebrows at this and glances between you, but otherwise doesn’t comment. 

“Me and JJ only have the one bed. I thought it might just have been us.”

You frown. There goes your plan of sharing a room with them. 

“What about Morgan and Garcia?”

Spencer snorts.

“Something tells me Penelope wouldn’t be too torn up about it if that's the case.”

“Hotch and Rossi?”

The room goes quiet and a little chilly as the thought disturbs everyone equally. Emily frowns deeply.

“I don’t even… I can’t picture that.”

“Can we please not try to picture it?”

“Great. Okay, well. I just wanted to make sure everyone is suffering equally. Good luck, champs.”

“Thanks,” Spencer mutters dryly. Emily smiles, eyes darting between the two of you for just a moment too long, before pushing off the door frame and disappearing from sight. Once the door is closed again, a heavy silence ensues. “I’ll… I can take the floor—”

“It’s fine, Spencer. I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor. We’re both grown-ups. Besides, we like each other, right? It’ll be like a slumber party.”

“I’ve never had one,” he admits. His glasses slip further down his nose as he frowns. Your fingers itch to push them back up. 

“Then I’m happy to be your first,” you tease, facing him fully with your hand on your hip and barely resisting the urge to add, I’ll be gentle. “Do you want the shower first or can I?”

Spencer has a habit of looking you up and down like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. Some might find it odd, but his utter lack of social graces is, lucky for him, incredibly endearing to you. 

“You can have it first,” he says, meeting your eyes again. “Just don’t do that thing where you get the entire bathroom soaking wet.”

“Aw. But I love doing that. It’s my favorite part,” you tease, scooping up your bag once more.

Twenty minutes later you’re emerging from the bathroom with damp hair, clad in loose shorts and a college hoodie. 

“Nice outfit,” Spencer says from the spinny-chair at the desk, examining your outfit choice with a scrutiny you wish you’d been prepared for. Really, you wish you’d known ahead of time you’d have a roommate and brought some alternate sleeping clothes. “I had no idea you felt so passionately about… Scooby Doo?”

“Shut up right now,” you grit, tossing your bag into the corner of the room and tugging your hoodie down over your cartoon-patterned shorts as far as you can. 

“What?” He’s laughing as he brushes past you on his way into the bathroom, bearing his own bag. “It’s a good look for you.”

Your face is burning as you choose the side of the bed furthest from the door. Springs creak underneath your weight as you sink down, sitting with your legs hanging off the side for a moment before swinging them up onto the mattress, leaning against the headboard and side-eyeing the empty space next to you. There’s really not very much of it. The bed feels even smaller than it looks. 

From the bathroom you hear the sound of the shower squeaking and starting up again—a cacophony of droplets against tile on the other side of the wall. You try not to be nervous as you imagine Spencer filling the space beside you in just a few minutes, hair wet and in pajamas. And yet you spend each second wondering if he’s almost done, wondering if the shower will finally sputter to a halt, and once it does, wondering how long it’ll be before he’s out again. It’s ridiculous how impatient you're getting—and by the time you finally watch the door knob twist you feel crazy. 

“I think that was your longest shower yet, Dr. Reid.”

The teasing affords you a moment to ogle him head to toe, taking in his choice of pajamas—tonight, familiar plaid pants and an MIT crewneck—as well as his hair which has already begun to dry. Briefly you wonder if he does that thing guys do, where they lean down and haphazardly dry their hair with a towel because they have no concern for its texture whatsoever. But you kind of doubt it, because his hair always looks so soft. 

“You were sitting here waiting for me?” He chuckles, and honestly you’d been expecting a shyer response. But you adapt quickly. 

“Maybe I was. Big spoon or little spoon?”

“Ha-ha.” He opens a drawer in the dresser and begins unpacking his clothes into it. It's a funny habit of his. You never unpack your duffel. “You took the better side of the bed.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m the woman. I get to do that.”

“Well you should know that if an intruder breaks in, I’m not fighting him off. You’d probably have a better chance than me.”

“And my chances will be even better if he’s distracted with you first.”

“So I’m just bait?” He scoffs, looking back at you. Strands of wet hair hang so prettily around his face, like the perfect frame around a work of art. You smile sweetly from your spot on the bed before playfully biting at the air in his direction. The message goes unspoken but reads loud and clear. Of course you are. You make such good bait. 

That gets a blush out of him and he has nothing else to say as he turns back to his drawer. Happily you lean back against the headboard, stretching your legs out and bouncing slightly in place. Beneath you the mattress springs groan and squeak in protest. 

“I hope you're not going to be this irritating all night.”

It's clearly lighthearted, but you promptly stop and frown at his back. 

“Call me irritating again and see where you end up sleeping tonight.”

“I just don’t see how you’re even more hyperactive than usual right now. Has anybody ever told you that you’re crepuscular?” Spencer asks, finally sliding the drawer shut and going to shut the overhead light off. Your eyes narrow. 

“Obviously nobody has told me that.”

“It means y—”

“I’m most energetic within the few hours around dusk and dawn. Contrary to your belief, Dr. Reid, other people are also capable of looking up words in a dictionary and remembering what they mean. Are you going to stand in the corner all night or are you gonna come to bed?”

“I am,” he scoffs, clearly embarrassed and shy and embarrassed of being shy. “I’m just… you look like you kick in your sleep. And hog the blankets.”

You shrug, folding your knees to your chest and hugging them quaintly. 

“I’ve never had any complaints. In fact, you should be so lucky to share a bed with me. All five star reviews, baby.” 

You toss a suggestive wink in at the end, which seems garish enough to break the tension so that Spencer can stop lingering in the corner like a sleep-paralysis demon and move to carefully take his place next to you. He almost mirrors your position, but his legs are too long to quite manage your level of compactness and so they simply fold underneath him. A few silent moments go by, in which you have the dumbest smile on your face and you keep glancing over to the side, waiting for him to be looking back at you. 

“This is already the least relaxed I have ever been in a bed.”

“Good thing we’re not going to sleep yet.”

Finally he looks at you, a casual mix of hesitance, concern, and moderate curiosity coloring his features. 

“We’re not?”

“Oh, my god, Spencer,” you snort. “I’m not gonna molest you. We have to do slumber party stuff, remember?”

He flushes again, glancing at the digital clock in his bedside table. 

“But it’s late. We should go to sleep.”

“At slumber parties you have to stay up until you literally can’t keep your eyes open anymore. Those are the rules. I don’t make them.”

Still, your insistence that you follow the international code of sleepover law goes unabided by Spencer. He simply leans over to flick off his lamp, bathing the room in darkness. 

“I appreciate the effort,” he says, and your eyes haven’t adjusted but you can hear the rustle of sheets and blankets as he gets under them, “but unfortunately we have to be awake and alert in five hours.”

“You’re no fun,” you huff, but climb under your own side of the cover and scoot down until you’re flat on your back, covered in blanket and hands folded on your sternum. 

Spencer doesn’t respond. 

It’s silent for maybe five minutes, during which your brain doesn’t slow down at all. Maybe you are crepuscular. Or slightly nocturnal. You have nothing but energy. 

In an attempt to get comfortable, you try adjusting your position.

The mattress squeaks. 

You do it again. 

Another squeak. 

A second goes by, and now you’re intentionally jostling about, squeaking the mattress as much as you can. 

“Would you stop that?” Spencer says, voice already gravelly with sleep. You manage, but you’re already devolving into a fit of giggles. “I’m going to smother you with this pillow,” he threatens, but you hear the disgruntled smile curling his words. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood to rest.”

Another moment passes. He sighs deeply. You smile into the dark. 

“What are you in the mood for?” He asks flatly, and you’ve won. 

“Tell me a secret,” you immediately demand in a hushed tone, flipping on your side to face his back. “Something you’ve never told anyone else.”

“I don’t—”

“Shh! You have to whisper it. Those are the slumber party rules.”

“I don’t have any secrets,” he whispers, clearly flustered, and to your delight, rolling to face the ceiling. “None that you’d want to hear.”

“Oh, now that’s just not true. You’re an enigma, Spencer Reid. You fascinate me.”

You’re only sort of kidding. 

“I… fascinate you?”

“Completely. You know, ever since you moved your desk across from mine I get distracted just staring at you and wondering what you’re thinking about. But you’re very… hard to read, sometimes. I think it’s because you’re a Scorpio.”

“The position of the stars at the time I was born has no bearing on my personality.”

“Fine,” you concede, still in a glorified stage whisper. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t display the archetypal Scorpio traits. You’re all brooding, mysterious. Kinda, I don't know... intense and sexy and unknowable…”

“Sexy?” He laughs, breaking the whisper rule. You grin and let it slide. You’d hoped he would catch that one. 

“Hey,” you snap, losing the smile immediately and lightly shoving against what you hope is his shoulder. “You’re supposed to be telling me a secret, damnit. I won’t let your wiles and charm distract me from getting what I want.”

“When have you ever let anything stop you from getting what you want?”

Truly, your cheeks are going to start aching with this constant back and forth between poker-faced and huge Cheshire smile. 

“Stop flirting and answer my question, Reid.”

With the amount of times you’ve made him sigh tonight he must be dizzy. You chew your lip apprehensively in the silence, picking a loose thread on your pillow. It’s so pitch black in the room, you can’t see him where he lies only a few meager inches from you. But you can feel his presence. You can feel the unexpected bass to his voice when he’s tired and speaking this lowly, which you’ve never heard before.

“All the secrets I’ve never told anyone are just… depressing.”

Your heart sinks a little at the way he swallows between words, like that in and of itself was hard to admit. Unthinkingly your hand slides into the small gap of white cotton between the two of you. 

“Not very good slumber party material, I think,” he laughs self-consciously. 

“You’d be surprised.” 

The sentiment comes quieter and more serious than you’ve been all night. If only you had the words to tell him that he can tell you anything. That you want to hold his secrets for him under lock and key. That you would never, ever do anything less than offer him kindness and support—even if it doesn’t always seem that way when you’re teasing him. 

“Do you have any secrets you’ve never told anyone else?” He murmurs eventually, so soft it could kill you. 

And you do. There are plenty of dark ones, probably not all dissimilar from those he’d elected not to share only a moment ago. 

But you don’t bring those up. 

Instead, you decide to admit to something silly. Still, it makes you nervous as you feel it coming loose in your chest. You’ve really never told anyone this, and it’s perhaps more vulnerable than you’d realized before the words were already leaving your mouth. 

“I, have…” You pause to laugh at yourself, and continue on. “I have a stuffed dragon that I take with me on every single case.”

“You do?” Spencer laughs, so loud and unexpected it almost hurts your ears, angling his head toward you. Blood rushes to your face. 

“Yes. He usually sleeps in bed with me. He’s an excellent listener and has been the origin of several of my most genius breakthroughs. You remember Gibson Cooper?”

“Family annihilator from Houston?” 

“Correct. He’s in prison because Oscar helped me make the Cook Creek Campground connection between the O’Hara and Diangelo families.”

“You have a stuffed profiler dragon named Oscar? Is he here?”

“He’s—I mean, I wasn’t expecting to share a room with someone.”

“So he’s in your bag.”

“Yes,” you seethe, “and I will not be introducing you to him. He doesn’t do well with men.”

“You are genuinely psychotic.”

You huff.

“Fine. I’m sorry I told you anything.”

You’re about to roll over onto your other side—but Spencer surprises you by catching the hand that had been outstretched in his direction. He carefully intertwines your fingers and squeezes gently. 

“You’re right. That was mean. Thank you for telling me about Oscar.” His tone is surprisingly teasing, and you’re so uncharacteristically flustered by this rare show of physicality and affection that you can’t muster an adequate comeback. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind filling your silence, though, sounding a little more solemn now. “I’m sorry I don’t have any secrets for you.”

The way his voice gets all thin and scratchy sometimes—it’s like the earnest sincerity just pours out of him. He can’t control it. He can’t be anyone other than who he is. Maybe that’s a part of why you love him so much. You wonder if he knows how much you love him. It’s not exactly a secret—anyone on the team would be able to tell as much. You’ve been relentlessly teased for the way you are with him. For your batting lashes and your lingering touches and your unabashed flirting. But beneath it all is true affection, and nobody doubts that. 

“It’s okay,” you decide with a squeeze of your own, after a moment of deliberation. “You’ll think of something. ’Cause, y’know—you’re stuck with me for at least a few more days.”

“Oh, god,” he laughs, and releases your hand, rolling over to face away from you. But you don’t mind. You’ll get lots more time to invade his personal space over the coming week or so. “Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams,” you sing-song, turning away to face the wall with what is perhaps your biggest, stupidest smile yet.

[hoshifighting]

      jeon wonwoo as ghostface

— self-explanatory title.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, fingering, penetrative sex, public-sex, halloween/trick-or-treat setting, mentions of body fluids (cum), mentions of alcohol (beer)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

it’s halloween night, and you barely get off the couch before the obnoxious ringing of the doorbell has you grumbling under your breath. “fuck’s sake, it’s way too late for this,” you mutter, swinging open the door to give some half-assed apology to whoever’s outside. except, what you see makes you pause, lips twitching in disbelief.

“really?” your eyes sweep over the trio standing there. wonwoo in a full ghostface costume—at least, you assume it’s wonwoo—tilts his head in that lazy way of his, towering in that black robe, seungcheol grinning like an idiot in his chucky outfit, and then there’s chan… dressed as pikachu.

you cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow. “aren’t you guys a little too old for trick-or-treating?”

wonwoo tilts his head to the side, that creepy ghostface mask just staring back at you while seungcheol laughs, giving chan a light shove forward. “we know you’ve got something for us,” seungcheol says, his voice casual, teasing.

“and i’m not giving you candy.”

“oh, we know,” wonwoo finally speaks up, his voice muffled through the mask. something about that deep tone hits different tonight, and you swallow, trying to play it off. it’s not the time. definitely not the time.

“beer work?” you roll your eyes, already stepping back to let them in.

“now we’re talking,” seungcheol grins as he brushes past you, chan giving you a quick thumbs up before following suit. wonwoo lingers, his tall frame blocking the doorway for a second longer than necessary, and you can feel his eyes on you through that mask. it’s unsettling… in a good way.

“you coming in, or are you gonna stand there all night?” you challenge, keeping your tone casual as you move into the kitchen.

he doesn’t say anything, just steps inside, closing the door softly behind him.

“didn’t know ghostface was such a creep,” you mutter, grabbing a few beers from the fridge and cracking one open for yourself. you hand the others to seungcheol and chan, who are already making themselves at home on your couch, flipping through your tv channels like they own the place.

wonwoo’s still standing there, leaning against the counter now, that damn mask still on. he doesn’t take the beer when you offer it, just watches.

“you not drinking?” you raise an eyebrow.

“might later,” he says, low and quiet, like there’s a double meaning behind his words. your stomach tightens. you blame the beer.

seungcheol’s already yelling at chan for hogging the remote, the two of them bickering like kids. it’s easy to ignore, but wonwoo? not so much.

“what’s with the mask, anyway? trying to freak me out?”

he cocks his head again, slow and deliberate. “you scared?”

you scoff, taking a long sip from your bottle. “you wish.”

wonwoo pushes off the counter, stepping closer, and your heart picks up. he doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of you, the space between you almost nonexistent. you can feel the heat radiating off him, even through that damn costume.

“maybe i do.”

your breath catches in your throat. for a second, you wonder if you’re imagining things, but the way he’s staring down at you—you know something’s different tonight.

you’ve known these guys for a while. they’re neighborhood friends, yeah, but you’ve never seen wonwoo act like this. there’s always been a tension, sure, some light flirting here and there, but this?... hmm you had this feeling in your gut.

“what, you got some kind of halloween kink or something?” you joke, trying to ease the tension, but it falls flat when he doesn’t laugh.

instead, he reaches up, slowly pulling the mask off, and your breath hitches. his dark eyes lock on yours, and you realize there’s no going back from this.

“maybe,” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly, “or maybe i’ve just been waiting for an excuse.”

an excuse? to what? you almost laugh at how ridiculous it sounds, but the way he’s looking at you, the way his gaze drops to your lips—it’s like he’s been waiting for this moment all night.

you bite your lip, meeting his gaze with a defiant look. “and what makes you think i’m gonna let you?”

his lips curl into the smallest of smirks, and before you can say anything else, he closes the distance between you, one hand gripping your waist, pulling you against him. the other comes up to tilt your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“because i know you want me to.”

the arrogance in his voice would usually piss you off, but tonight? tonight, goes straight to your pussy. fuck, maybe he’s right.

“cocky bastard,” you mutter, but you don’t pull away. in fact, you lean into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his costume.

“you have no idea,” he breathes, before his lips crash into yours.

it’s rough, frantic, and fuck if it doesn’t feel good. his hands grip your waist harder, pulling you against him like he can’t get enough.

his hands move down to your ass, squeezing the meat through the soft fabric of your shorts, making you gasp against his lips. “shit, wonwoo,” you breathe, feeling the warmth of his touch sear through the thin material. you’re already on edge, nerves buzzing under your skin, and he knows exactly what he’s doing—taking his time, working you up until you’re practically shaking.

“these shorts… they’re killing me,” he mutters, voice low in your ear as he grips you harder. “you didn’t think i’d notice?” his fingers tug at the hem of your shorts, just enough to tease you, before slipping down, grazing your thigh.

“didn’t think i’d be giving you a show tonight,” you say, but it comes out breathier than you intended, the words barely a whisper as his hand slips under the leg of your shorts, fingers brushing dangerously close to your bare skin. no panties. fuck. it’s like he knew, like he’s been planning this all night.

a groan escapes his throat when he realizes, pulling back just enough to look at you, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “no panties?”

“got a problem with that?” you challenge, but your voice wavers when his fingers brush between your legs, just barely skimming your clit. your body reacts on instinct, hips jerking forward, seeking more of his touch.

“not at all,” he says. “just makes it easier for me.”

he doesn’t wait for a response, doesn’t give you a chance to say anything smart before he’s pushing your shorts to the side, his fingers finding your wetness with ease. the first touch is light, teasing, barely there, but it’s enough to make you bite down on your lip, stifling a moan.

his fingers press against your slit, dragging up to your clit, making you squirm in his grip. you’re hyper-aware of how close the others are, the sound of seungcheol and chan still bickering in the background, the tv blaring—any minute, they could turn around, see what’s happening, but the risk only makes it hotter.

“you’re soaked,” wonwoo murmurs, his breath hot against your neck as his fingers circle your clit in lazy strokes. “you like knowing they could see us, don’t you?”

you shiver at his words, legs trembling as he works you open with those skilled fingers, teasing you until you’re desperate—more desperate. “shut up,” you manage to hiss, but the way your body arches into his touch betrays you.

he chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck before sliding one finger inside you. your walls clench around him, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from making any noise. but fuck, it’s hard—especially when he’s moving like that, slow, deep, curling his finger just right.

“fuck, wonwoo,” you breathe, hips grinding down against his hand, chasing the friction.

he adds another finger, stretching you, his pace picking up as he fucks you with his hand. it’s messy, the wet sound of his fingers slipping in and out of you filling the space between you, and you’re doing everything you can to keep quiet, but it’s fucking impossible.

his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing circles while his fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot that has your vision going blurred. “feel good?”

“yes!” you gasp, hips moving on their own, grinding against his hand. you’re so close already, the tension building fast and hard in your core.

“think you can stay quiet?” he asks, his tone teasing, though there’s an edge to it. he wants you to be loud, to give yourself away—but he also knows the thrill of keeping it a secret, the tension of holding back.

you’re about to answer when he pulls his fingers out of you, making you whimper at the loss. “wonwoo, please—”

he doesn’t give you time to beg, spinning you around and pressing you against the counter, his chest flush against your back. you can hear the soft clink of his belt being undone, feel the hard press of him against your ass, and your pulse skyrockets in anticipation.

“you’re gonna have to stay quiet for me,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he pulls your shorts to the side, lining himself up at your entrance. “think you can do that?”

“y-yes—” you barely get the word out before he’s pushing into you, filling you completely. your mouth falls open, but no sound comes out—just a sharp inhale as your hands grip the counter, knuckles white with how hard you’re holding on.

“so fucking wet baby,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips as he bottoms out inside you. “god, you feel so good.”

you’re struggling to breathe, your body trembling. it’s too much, too good, and you’re doing everything you can to keep from making any noise, but it’s so fucking hard when he’s moving like this, slow and deep, each thrust making your knees buckle harder.

“wonwoo—” you gasp, but he cuts you off with a hand over your mouth, silencing you.

“shh, can’t have them hearing you,” he whispers, his voice rough in your ear as he starts to move, each thrust harder and faster than the last. “unless you want them to see how needy you are for me.”

your walls go clenching around him as he fucks you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin barely masked by the noise from the tv. you’re so close, the tension in your belly coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust.

“fuck, that pussy was made for me,” he grits out, his grip on your hips bruising as he slams into you. “gonna come for me?”

you nod, your body trembling as you teeter on the edge, his hand still pressed over your mouth, muffling the desperate moans you can’t hold back anymore.

“good girl,” he groans, his pace relentless as he fucks you through it, his hips slamming against yours with enough force to make the counter shake.

the orgasm crashes over you suddenly, your body tensing as the pleasure rips through you, and you’re so close to crying out, the sound muffled by his hand as you come undone around him. your walls pulse and clench, and you can feel him losing control, his thrusts becoming erratic, sloppy.

he curses under his breath, his hands gripping you harder as he buries himself deep inside you, his own release following quickly after. you can feel him pulsing inside you, filling you with the slick cum, and it takes everything in you not to collapse right then and there.

he pulls out slowly, letting out a breathy groan as he steps back, leaving you panting against the counter, your legs shaking.

“we should… probably get back to the others,” you manage to say, voice hoarse.

“yeah,” wonwoo says, but there’s a teasing lilt to his voice as he leans down to press a kiss to your shoulder. “but i think they already know.”

you whip around to glare at him, but he just smirks, pulling his ghostface mask back on before heading back into the living room.

as you follow, trying to fix your clothes and compose yourself, you catch chan’s knowing smirk and seungcheol’s raised eyebrow.

“didn’t know it was that kind of halloween party,” seungcheol teases, making you roll your eyes.

“shut up,” you mutter, grabbing another beer from the fridge and sinking down onto the couch, heart still racing.

“whatever you say,” chan sings, winking at you before turning back to the tv.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [9] - Tranquility

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your patience! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Simple days can be calming.

Word Count: 2853

CW: Explicit language, mentions of sex, drinking, adult themes MDNI

Series Masterlist

Well.

This was very fun.

“I mean to repeat, I do have a hammer at home,” you said, leaning your elbows on the cart as you pushed it slowly and Logan raised his brows.

“Just a hammer?”

“Yeah, I wanted to put up that framed picture of me and Theo so Jamie brought it and then forgot it.”

“Exactly why we’re here.”

Home Depot wasn’t really your favorite place to shop in, you couldn’t even remember when the last time you had been there was. Needless to say, you felt a bit overwhelmed as you looked at the aisles with many tools and construction products, but Logan seemed right at home there, and the simple act of going shopping together -whether it was at a store you were familiar with or not- made you feel all warm inside.

Who knew the aftermath of breaking your bed would be fun as well?

Logan grabbed a pack of what seemed like tiny pieces of metal to put it in the cart, and you looked around, then gasped.

“Let’s get these, they look prettier!”

“Screw anchors?”

You tilted your head.

“Well if you feel that strongly about them…”

“No I mean— that’s what they’re called.”

“They’re yellow, I like yellow!” you said, grabbing the pack off the hook to hold it up and Logan chuckled.

“Sweetheart, if we’re going to use them on your bed, they need to be metal. Your bed frame is metal.”

You looked down at the pack. “Oh, these look plastic.”

“Mm hm, they are plastic.”

“Well, where do people use these?”

“On drywall, mostly,” he said. “When you’re hanging—hold on, did Jamie just put a screw into the wall for those frames you mentioned?”

“Yeah.”

He blinked a couple of times, then cleared his throat and took the pack from you to put it into the cart as well.

“Yay!”

“Anything else you want from here?”

You looked over at the shelf, then shook your head and Logan threw an arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to himself as you both went into another aisle.

“So wait, you need to put stuff into the wall to put stuff into the wall?”

“Mm hm.”

“Why?”

“Well, otherwise the screw can slip out of the wall when you hang something,” he said. “Anchors make sure whatever is on the wall doesn’t fall on anyone. It’s the same logic with anchoring furniture.”

“None of my furniture is anchored.”

“Babe, you have a mirror in your living room.”

“I just leaned it to the wall,” you pointed out and Logan heaved a sigh, then gently guided you into another aisle.

“I’m guessing you don’t have a drill?”

“Good guess—Logan, we’re not buying a drill!”

He went closer to one of the shelves to grab one to check it. “Why not?”

“I’m not gonna use it.”

“I’m gonna use it, I don’t want that mirror to fall on you.”

“It’s on the other side of the room.”

“Accidents happen,” he said. “That thing needs to be anchored along with God knows what. Every home needs a drill.”

You scrunched up your face, leaning back to the shelf.

“Debatable,” you said. “Every home needs a medicine cabinet. A drill is just something people in home makeover shows use.”

“What are makeover shows?”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh my God, you’ve never watched those? We’re so watching those, I need your commentary.”

Logan turned the drill in his hand and you bit inside your cheek, trying to fight the urge to jump on him in the aisle of Home Depot. Clearing your throat, you tried to focus and crossed your arms.

“Not that one,” you said and Logan turned his gaze to you.

“Why not?”

“We should get that one,” you pointed at the other drill on the shelf and Logan bit back a smile.

“Babe, that one is 12 volts. This one is 18.”

“Volt isn’t everything,” you said as if you knew what you were talking about and Logan pulled his brows together.

“It is kind of important in a drill—”

“Yeah but Logan, that’s orange,” you said and grabbed the pack of yellow plastic anchors out of the cart to hold it up. “See? They’ll match if we get this one!”

Logan stared at you as if he was trying to find the right words to disagree with you but you pulled your brows together before putting the pack next to the drill so that he could see it better.

“Same shade!” you insisted as you pressed your finger on the drill, looking up at him and the corners of his lips twitched, that fond light shining in his eyes before he nodded slowly, then put the drill in his hand into the shelf to grab the one you were pointing at.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s get the matching drill then.”

��                                                *

At first you had been worried about being too much of a bother when Logan said he’d be fixing your bedframe but now, sitting on the couch eating the snacks you got on your way back home, you couldn’t help but notice Logan looked very comfortable and happy to be helping you out. Right after you got back home, he fixed your bedframe but apparently having a drill and a toolbox within his vicinity had awakened something in him that he was now working on what could be “fixed” in your living room.

You could’ve sworn his face had lit up like a Christmas tree when you mentioned you had shelves somewhere that you had been procrastinating on putting up.

“Are you sure you don’t want my help?” you asked as you popped a piece of chocolate in your mouth and he shook his head, holding the shelf against the wall to draw on where he’d put it up.

“No need princess.”

“I could help, I have some experience in it,” you pointed out. “Not very pleasant experience but experience nonetheless.”

“How’s that?”

“Um, when I was a child, whenever something broke in our house my dad would want to fix it himself,” you said. “And he’d ask me to hold the flashlight and but then scold me for pointing it at the wrong place.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yeah.”

He looked at you over his shoulder before grabbing the drill and turned it on, making you grimace at the loud noise. He drilled two holes in the wall, then grabbed the plastic anchors and the hammer to nail them in.

You’d had a wet dream like this.

“How did you learn how to do all this?” you asked him and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I’ve been around for some time. You pick up hobbies.”

“And that’s your hobby?”

“I like fixing things,” he said. “And building stuff.”

You sat up straighter, your whole attention on him.

“Okay, so I can add it to the list of things I know about you,” you said with a bright smile. “I’m quite proud of myself you know, growing that list isn’t the easiest thing in the world.”

Logan shot you a small grin. “Subtle.”

“Hey I’m just warning you beforehand,” you said, holding your hands up. “You won’t even see me coming and before you know, you’re opening up to me.”

“Oh is that what’s gonna happen?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I’m too stubborn to quit.”

Logan’s smile was calm before he took a deep breath, then started working on the shelf again.

“It’s just…” he murmured. “A long story, you know? Too much to tell.”

“That’s okay,” you said softly. “I’ve got time. And until then, you can listen to me talk about absolute nonsense.”

“I like doing that, in case it escaped your notice.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest and you took a deep breath, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“So yeah, I apparently held the flashlight wrong. And there was also that one time—I’m just not the best at fixing things, there was that one time Julie tried to teach me how to change a tire but I ended up convincing her to go get mimosas instead. She’s really good at all that, I swear she and IKEA manuals have something going on that the rest of us human kind cannot understand, she built my wardrobe and I honestly just provided her with cookies—oh my God, Logan!” you said with a gasp. “Do you want cookies?”

A fond smile curled his lips as he looked at you over his shoulder.

“No seriously, I know you liked the chocolate chip ones but I’ve been dying to try this new recipe, it has mint chocolate—do you like mint chocolate? I hope you’re not one of those people who say mint chocolate tastes like toothpaste because I am a ride or die mint chocolate lover, but I think I can also make—”

You were cut off when he strode to you to lean down and kiss you, cutting you off before you let out a giggle.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling back to look at you better. “I’d love some.”

You beamed up at him and stole another kiss from him.

“So yes to the mint chocolate cookies then?”

He stroked his thumb over your cheekbone, that loving look in his eye making your heart skip a happy beat.

“Sure thing sweetheart,” he said. “Yes to the mint chocolate cookies.”

                                                        *

The more time you spent with Logan, the giddier you felt. You knew that you were supposed to keep yourself in check and play it cool considering everything between you two was very new, but it felt as if since you two had got together, you hadn’t been able to stop smiling.

Or it could’ve been just mind-blowing sex.

Either or.

“I’m not really much of a TV person.”

“And I respect that, but not having seen Titanic is simply just not acceptable,” you said as you poured the popcorn into the bowl and made your way to the couch. He wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you to his lap, making you let out a squeal as you straddled him with a giggle.

“You’re not distracting me this time,” you told him, pecking him on the lips before getting off his lap to sit beside him, still holding the popcorn bowl tight. You grabbed the remote to start the movie while Logan frowned at the screen as if it had personally offended him.

“I mean I heard about it,” he said. “It’s romance, right?”

“The best romance in the history of humankind.”

Logan pulled his brows together.

“So low expectations, got it,” he said. “The title suggests it’s not gonna end well?”

“Listen, they may have only known each other for four days—”

“Four days?!”

“Yeah but it was true love,” you said in a solemn manner, nodding your head and Logan’s frown deepened.

“I don’t think that’s how it works, babe.”

“That’s totally how it works,” you said. “It’s like opposites attract wrapped in star-crossed lovers wrapped in a tragic love story. I watched it for like 50 times, it’s my comfort movie. I always cry at the end.”

“Your comfort movie is a movie that makes you cry?”

“Yeah,” you said and grabbed at his arm when turned to look at the screen. “Look, that’s Jack! That’s who Rose falls in love with—wait, Logan, I have a question.”

“Hm?”

“So you were around when Titanic happened?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember it?”

“I remember the news of it, yeah,” he said. “Everyone was shocked by it.”

You took a deep breath to ask him another question but your doorbell rang. You turned your head and stood up but Logan was faster than you, so he walked to the door to open it and as soon as he did, Julie’s voice reached you.

“Holy shit you’re tall.”

“Julie?” you asked as you approached the door and Logan stepped aside. “Hi!”

“Hey, sorry I didn’t…” she motioned at Logan. “It’s just that I texted you and you didn’t answer, and I was on my way here anyway because who just got out of a terrible argument with her ex dickhead of a boyfriend and needed some distraction?”

“Jesus, that asshole again?” you asked and she nodded.

“Yep.”

“Come in!” you said and Julie shook her head.

“No no, I really don’t wanna interrupt your sexy time.”

Logan tilted his head while you shot her a lighthearted glare.

“Come in,” you insisted, pulling her by the arm before closing the door. “We’re watching Titanic. Logan, this is Julie, my best friend. Jules, this is Logan—” you paused for a moment, trying to find the right words.

Boyfriend was a big title and you hadn’t really talked about it before, and you actually didn’t know where Logan stood on this whole thing so you decided to play it safe.

“I told you about him,” you ended up saying and Logan extended his hand.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Julie said, shaking his hand. “You really are a good looking dude, and I was so right about the lumberjack vibes.”

Logan blinked a couple of times as if he didn’t know how to answer. “…Thanks?”

“No problem.”

“I’m pouring you wine,” you said, making your way to the kitchen with Julie following you, and Logan lingered in the hallway for a moment before going back to the living room.

“Are you sure it’s cool I’m crashing your date?”

You took out a wine glass before pouring some wine in it.

“I’ll be offended if you ask me that again,” you told her and she hugged you, making you smile and press a kiss on her cheek.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to like, buy a baseball bat and threaten him?”

“Nah I’m fine,” she said as she pulled back to take the glass from you. “It’s just fucking frustrating.”

“Screw him, he’s an idiot,” you told her as you held her other hand and you both went into the living room.

“Hey man, sorry about the interruption,” Julie told him, flinging herself on the armchair and Logan shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it. No interruption other than me trying to figure out how these two people will have the ‘greatest love story’ in four days.”

“It is true love!” you said, smacking the back of your hand into your palm to emphasize each word and Logan chuckled.

“Yeah alright, sorry. True love.”

“Weren’t you around when this happened?” Julie asked, motioning at the screen and you grinned.

“We share one braincell,” you told her and Julie crossed her arms, looking at Logan.

“Did you meet Thomas Edison?”

Logan looked almost confused. “Uh, no?”

“Good, he was an asshole. Did you meet Victor Hugo?”

Logan paused for a moment, then turned to look at you. “Are you guys all secretly French?”

“No, we just watched Les Miserables one hundred times,” you answered while Julie sighed.

“A masterpiece, if you will.”

“Better than this whole true love in four days thing?” Logan asked, motioning at the screen and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Careful there buddy, you’re on thin ice.”

Logan shot you a grin, making you smile back before you turned to Julie.

“Seriously, what happened with that jerk?”

“Oh you know, the usual drill. He called me drunk, started with begging and then that whole thing turned into him listing every single bad thing about me.”

“He was the one who cheated on you.”

“Yeah and you’d think he’d remember that.”

Logan threw an arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to him.

“I can beat him up if you want,” he said in such a matter-of-fact tone that it made you look up at him in confusion. Julie let out a small laugh.

“You, I like you,” she said, pointing at him before she looked at you. “I approve.”

“Aw thank you.”

“That being said,” she said. “Logan, you seem like a really nice guy but make no mistake, if you upset her in any way, I’ll get the biggest magnet I can find and point it at you so that I can pull that metal skeleton of yours out of your body.”

“Julie!” you exclaimed, your eyes widening and Logan’s smile widened as if he was merely amused. “Don’t listen to her. She’s nice to me and terrible to everyone else.”

Julie blew you a kiss and Logan nodded his head.

“Noted,” he told Julie and Julie grinned at him.

“See? You and I are gonna get along just fine.”

You heaved a sigh, then grabbed the bowl to hold it out for Julie to take some popcorn. She grabbed a handful, then leaned back to watch the movie while you leaned your head on Logan’s chest, trying to pay attention to the movie. Logan nuzzled into your hair and pressed a kiss on top of your head, making your stomach do a happy flip and you felt a smile warm your face before you bit on your lip, then turned your gaze to the screen again.

10 - Storm

[sy-on-boy]

Real talk: the fact that Anya expects to read Demetrius’ mind but sees nothing is kind of sad because Demetrius saw his 6yo brother approach and congratulate him, and had zero thoughts in his brain. But that doesn’t mean Demetrius doesn’t care about him. When Damian stutters, Demetrius initiates conversation by talking about Damian’s grades, showing that he indeed pays attention.

Demetrius seems almost resentful by Damian’s insistence to impress Donovan, giving out a snarky, passive aggressive, teen appropriate response: “How would I know? It’s not as if I’m in regular contact with him.” This is like the passive aggressive version of whatever is going on with Melinda. Damian is a relatively innocent 6yo kid seeking his father’s approval, but both his mother and his brother appear to be seriously affected (in a bad way) by Donovan, and they avoid talking about Donovan even as Damian repeatedly mentions him. Demetrius doesn’t understand Damian’s desire for their father’s approval. He also doesn’t understand his father, hinting at some sort of disconnect between them.

What also saddens me a bit is how Demetrius barely acknowledged Damian’s friends talking to him. Like, they’re six year old kids trying to make a good impression. Still, Demetrius didn’t completely ignore them, just gave a meaningless “oh” and decided to stop thinking about people. It’s very much giving “stressed (and depressed) to the point of apathy”. When facing the innocence (ignorance?) and optimism of 6yo kids, Demetrius doesn’t understand. (And maybe he doesn’t understand friendship, which is what Damian has?)

I mentioned before that characters Anya met are probably “good” characters on the side of Forgers or at least are sympathetic to readers. Because if Anya met a “bad” character and read their mind, she would be too OP and the plot could be quickly solved. It’s like how we all thought Melinda was suspicious when she met Yor, but then Anya met Melinda and read her mind to reveal that she cares about Damian (even if it’s in a twisted way). Demetrius is interesting because he subverts what I said above by thinking very little, so Anya cannot really read him. But so far, I think his portrayal is that of a typical middle schooler with middle school angst, and he cares about Damian even if he has zero thoughts on his brain (and doesn’t like the way Damian craves fatherly approval). He is still a child and presumably a victim of his father’s parenting.

The framing is also interesting. Damian telling his friends to go on without him while he waits for Demetrius. The panel of Demetrius towering over a stuttering Damian. Demetrius going away, showing a panel of him as a small figure in an otherwise blank background. That panel when Anya thinks Damian’s relatives are weird has her looking at Damian while he’s some distance away from her (and the rest of his friends). The brothers feel disconnected. Damian is both eager and nervous to talk to Demetrius. Demetrius is nonchalant and apathetic, but not impolite or outwardly wholly dismissive.

Given Damian’s wacky family situation, I’m glad he has friends at Eden. Ewen and Emile of course are steadfast and loyal companions, always eager to back up their beloved boss man. Anya can read his mind and she knows about his insecurities (and also his weird family).

Becky is also good as a friend because she doesn’t care about sucking up to Damian, she often calls him out, but she also supports Damian when he deserves it. A sweet scene here is Damian saying he’s a Desmond so he’s expected to get a star, and Becky adding “it’s still a great achievement. Congrats!”. Becky is validating his success and telling Damian it’s okay to be proud and happy for himself. Even though she’s usually judgemental towards Damian, she’s still kind to him because that’s who she is as a character.

In the end, Damian still wants his father’s attention. He had no idea Demetrius wasn’t that close to their father… I would assume Demetrius spent most of his time at Eden and this is Damian’s first year at Eden, so he actually gets to interact with his brother instead of hearing things about him?

So far, Demetrius seems like a very jaded character in contrast to Damian who feels like a beam of sunshine now. He’s the heir so he’s got more troubles. But it’s nice that he’s finally debuted and no longer in mystery. Can’t wait to see what Endo has in store for him :)

[hopelesslonelyghost]

18+ ghoap x fem!reader

soap with a pretty bird back at home who he facetimes all the time bc they just miss each other so much. they’re so clingy for each other.

you’re always relaxing when you call him. in a t-shirt and sweatpants and are either sitting on the couch with a warm lamp on beside you or laying in bed with only the fairy lights on. you’re always giggling and smiling and making sure to keep your entire face within frame so that johnny can see all of you.

and you know that his lieutenant is always somewhere beside him even if johnny denies it, but you know. because the two of you have spoken about it.

“i showed ghost a pic of you.” he spoke one night after the two of you had finished some…salacious activities.

you immediately lifted your head up from where it was laying on his chest, “which one did you show him?”

“don’t get upset.”

you side-eyed him instantly, “john…” you smacked him lightly, “which oneeee?”

after a bit of pestering, he showed you. it was a mirror pic of you in some oversized sweatpants and a thin tank top. your hair was tied back and you were brushing your teeth. it was a silly pic, one meant only for him.

“oh my god, mactavish I can’t believe you!”

“wai’ bonnie lemme explain.”

you were pretty sure you were bright red, trying to hide your face in your hands, but johnny wasn’t letting you.

gripping your wrists, he pushed them both besides your head, getting between your legs, forcing them open, “he loved it.”

your mouth fell open, “johnny how the fu-! HOW?! I look like shit! my face is greasy and I’m pretty sure I hadn’t showered that day when I sent that picture!”

he chucked and pecked your nose, cheeks, and finally your lips, “you weren’t there to see his face. fuck lass, he was exactly like you are now, ears red and all doe-eyed.”

you felt him hardening again, rubbing up against your already soaked cunt, before slipping in with ease, “gonna bring him home. have him fuck this pretty pussy. show him how much of a good girl you are.”

with that in mind, you sometimes say, and do, some out-of-pocket stuff. one time you were complaining to your boyfriend how the birth control pill was making your tits sore and how much bigger they were getting.

“look!” you turned on your nightlight and faced it, giving your boyfriend, and subsequently ghost, an unfiltered view of your tits through your nightie. the low cut helped accentuate them.

your grin was hidden off camera when you palmed one of them and whined, putting on a show for both men, “they’re so swollen babe. i wish you were here to massage them.”

“steamin’ jezus bonnie.”

you could hear a choked off groan somewhere in the background. bingo.

“you’re coming home soon, right baby?” you moved the camera back to your face, pouting and batting your lashes.

“fuck yes. coming home real soon, I promise.”

and it was sometime past three in the morning when he got home a few days later. you were already sleeping, the heat during the summer nights was enough to have the a/c on blast, and wearing just a cropped tank top and a thong to bed.

the sound of the unit running made it easier for both soap and ghost to make their way to your shared room. there you laid on your side, facing away from the door. thin sheets had been kicked off and were now tangled up around your thighs, your bare ass was in full display. the string of your thong tucked nicely between your perky cheeks.

both men swallowed their groans, soap turning to the taller man and elbowing him softly, “better than a phone call, eh l.t.?”

ghost swallowed roughly, eyes never leaving your moonlit body, “way fuckin’ betta’ sergeant.”

and then both men pounced. they’d both requested extended leave, and they planned on using all of it buried deep inside you.

[moonstruckme]

Hi :) I love your writing. I don’t know if this is something you’d be interested in but I’d love to see a fic with one of the marauders(anyone you’d like) and the reader maybe has a difficult time with orgasming? And she asks to use a vibrator but is also scared bc ur ex got mad at her or something?

Thank you for requesting!

cw: smut mdni, use of sex toy, bondage, praise/worship kink

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 509 words

“I can’t believe you ever hid this from me,” says Sirius. His voice is teetering on the brink of laughter while you teeter on the brink of madness, and you’re thinking that maybe you should have kept it hidden, maybe you’ve given him a power he shouldn’t have. “You’ve really been holding out on me. Hm? What was that, baby?” 

You try to move your lips again. It feels like they’re buzzing with the rest of you. “Please.”

“Please what, honey?” Sirius is a good actor. You’d think he really was perplexed if you didn’t know how much he likes to play with you. He pushes the vibrator through your folds again, and your hole tightens with want. “Is there something I can help you with?” 

You struggle against the bonds holding your wrists to the bed frame, a low whine rising in your throat. 

“If there is something you want from me, you’re gonna have to use your words.” 

He shows you a bit of mercy, bringing the tip of the wand to your thigh. It’s some reprieve, but not much, everything between your legs coated in slick and so sensitive you think a breeze could make you scream. Still, it’s just enough to find your voice. 

“I want it inside,” you beg. Sirius raises his brows as if this is news to him. “Please, Siri, I want it in.” 

Your boyfriend purses his lips as though considering this. “Okay.” 

You gasp when the wand is suddenly at your entrance, pushing through your folds.

“You’re always so good at taking it,” he croons, pupils splaying out as he watches your pussy swallow the device. “Who would have thought it’d be just as fun as watching you take my cock? There’s a good girl.” He gives your cunt a little pat once it’s all the way in. 

You make a small sound, your body trembling. 

“Oh, I know.” Sirius pouts at you. “This must be so hard for you, poor thing. I can tell you’re not enjoying it at all.” There’s an evil gleam in his eyes, and then he’s leaning down over you, dark hair falling like a curtain around your chest and stomach as his fingers find your clit. “What are we gonna do about that, hm?” 

You grind up into his fingers, swallowing a moan. Sirius grins. He presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the underside of your breast. 

“Is this nice?” He sucks a small mark, pleased at the hurried agreement that leaves your lips. “Good. I just wanna make you feel nice, baby. You’re so good to me, you know that? So sweet, and lovely, and perfect for me. My pretty baby.” He closes his teeth gently around your pert nipple, giving a little tug. 

“I wanna make you cum. Do you think you can do that for me, pretty girl?”

He tugs again, and as if on cue, the trembling in your thighs worsens. 

“Huh,” says Sirius, lifting his head to watch fascinatedly as you crash and burn. “This thing really does work.”

[hanasnx]

WITHHOLDING SEX — logan howlett.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: unfinished wip that im never gonna finish. WARNINGS: unfinished wip ノ fem reader ノ stripper reader ノ age gap ノ established relationship ノ size difference ノ logan gets smacked for saying some dumb shit ノ degradation ノ outdated and lame anti-sex work rhetoric ノ toxic behavior

“You’re such a jerk, Logan.” you used to say, a little giggle to your voice as you scoldingly pat LOGAN HOWLETT’s broad chest, letting him back you into a dark corner at your club and buy a personal dance. He’d wave that fat wad of cash in front of your nose with that knowing look you’d come to crave, and you’d flirtingly comply. You’d even let him get cheeky with it, copping a feel up your thigh while in the privacy of a backroom. Just so you’d bat his callused hand away with a toying, “Ah-ah!” And he’d tilt his big head at you and push out his hips while you finished up your dance.

Months of playing with one another, led to his impatience getting the better of him. Late at night, asking you—a stripper—what you were doing later. He’s got this way about him that you watch so carefully. All he had to do was stare at you through those furrowed brows and jut his chin when he popped the question, and you obediently blurted out, “Maybe if you’re lucky: you.”

Much to your surprise, it wasn’t some one night stand. Booty calls turned to dates, turned to moving in together, turned to partnership. Not that you believe yourself to be a challenge, but you’ve never met a guy that could seduce you at your job, and you certainly never expected to shack up with him. Logan made it easy at first, always forward with you, putting up with your “diva attitude” as he likes to call it, driving you to and from work because he doesn’t trust the clients that hang out around the building when girls are just trying to get home. You fell hard, and you fell fast.

But lately, things have been different. Logan’s always been bull-headed—and a bit of a pig—but it never seemed to be as big of a problem as it is now. As much as you can love those traits of his, they get in the way of communication, and your own spite and stubbornness doesn’t soothe anything. You fight more than ever, you argue more than you have actual conversations. If you’re not fighting, you’re not talking, and he’s sleeping on the couch. Butting heads is not new, but now they’re not as easily solved without the shade of rose-colored glasses.

“Nah, baby, ‘cause a stripper like you was easy.” The prideful and malicious words struck you right to your core, whirling around to face Logan who’d been hounding after you. It’s written all over his firm countenance, he said it to hurt you, and he knew it succeeded—from the very first petname spat so facetiously. Your hand flies before you realize what’s happening, whipping across his cheek so hard it resounds throughout the room. It was a stupid move, ache pulsing hot through your palm from the contact, and chances are it’s worse for you than him.

Your voice burns from this latest yelling match, and you exacerbate it. “You’re such a jerk, Logan!” The dumbfounded part in his lips close as he pivots his spun head to meet your gaze. You’re not gonna sit here and entertain this any longer, you’re gonna be late for work, so you round his wide frame to hurry to the door. “Let’s see how easy you think I am.” you challenge, throwing open the door, “Good luck getting off without me.” you spit at him before slamming the door after you.

“That’s it, I’m so done with him—for real this time.” you claim, yapping the ear off your coworker at the lockers while you two get dressed.

“Oh, yeah, right.” she replies with a roll of her eyes, zipping up her boot. “Next week y’all are gonna be back together, attached at the fuckin’ hip. Who’re you kidding?” She stamps her foot down, and gives herself last looks in the vanity mirror, teasing her hair with her hands.

You throw down your needle and floss, halting your sew of a hole in your costume. “Shut up, it’s not like that!” you whine, annoyed by her prediction—more or less accurate.

She snickers. “See you out there.” she tells you, effectively dismissing the conversation as she makes her way out onto the floor. Somehow, her reaction only fans the flames of your spiteful commitment…. but even though the hurt is still fresh, you miss him.

It’s frigid in the AM, hugging your jacket close as you watch your breath steam in front of your face. The bouncer didn’t think to watch your walk to the car this time, knowing that your boyfriend usually picks you up. You forgot to tell him otherwise, but it’s not a big deal—until you remember you took your car this time and the heater is broken. You’ve taken three steps out the door and you’re already shivering, what are you gonna do when your brittle fingers can’t grip the wheel?

“Hey.” a rough and familiar voice breaks you out of your internal debacle, facing the noise promptly. Logan wearing his usual scowl and puffy vest—somehow he looks good. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up to reveal the cords of his forearms crossed across his chest, tailbone leaned against his truck. “C’mon.” He tilts his head in the direction of his vehicle. In one small second, you’re endeared by his gesture, he knew you were gonna be cold and a little unsafe—even through being angry he’d do this for you. In the next second, the warm feeling is quickly crushed under the weight of knowing Logan. This isn’t some knight-in-shining-armor moment. This is his apology.

You stick your frozen nose in the air, “No, thanks.” you respond. There’s no way you’re going to let him off the hook that easily. Back on your path to your car, you huddle into yourself to converse heat, but you still hear footsteps on gravel behind you.

“Don’t be like that, princess, I know you’re freezing.” he says. He only calls you that when you’re being especially prissy. “I know you didn’t mean what you said back there, so let’s just go home and I’ll hook and tow your car in the morning.” The impending presence of a palm against your upper arm alerts you and you flinch out of the way.

“I’m not getting into the truck with you, Logan, I’m mad at you.” you hiss. Your persistence is annoying, and if you were less wrathful Logan might’ve thrown you over his shoulder by this point. Something tells him this isn’t like other times.

His hand lingers in the air aside your sleeve, but draws back when he straightens to his full height behind you. “So you’d rather catch fuckin’ pneumonia than be within three feet of me?” his disbelief is deduced clearly in his tone, conveying how stupid he thinks you’re being.

So you double down, shrugging indifferently as you cross your arms over your chest. “If that’s what it comes down to.”

“Jesus, you’re a stubborn bitch.”

You round on him. “Logan!”

He inclines in your space, raising his voice as he gestures in front of him, organizing his verbal thoughts, “First, you tell me some bullshit about no pussy, and now you don’t even wanna be near me—“

You’re incredulous, matching his energy as you lift onto the tips of your toes to compete with him. “—Why would I wanna go anywhere with you when you’re being the biggest asshole—“

“—and it’s not like you can keep up with that shit. You’ll last a day- and that’s generous—!”

“—A day? You think I’ll last a day—?” You have the urge to laugh, a dry hollow sound.

“Face it, you can’t go a night without me.”

Obviously, you’re not getting anywhere and you’re tired. Defeated, you shake your head and turn on your heel. You’re beyond cold, and you say loud enough for him to hear, “Get outta here, Logan, I don’t wanna see you when I get home.”

He shift his weight to one hip, raising his arms out at his sides in a questioning pose. “Oh, and where am I supposed to go? Huh? Where am I supposed to go?” he interrogates after your retreating form, angry at your reaction, at the fact you’re walking away from him, the idea he’s not going to be in a warm bed with a warm body to comfort him to sleep tonight.

It’s his own fault. “I don’t care where you go! I’m not letting you in.” you reply with a shake of your head.

[revelboo]

That Thundercracker blip was pretty good, I think I detect a new seeker to add to my collection 👀

I see TC as the most affectionate of the Seekers, mostly based on the IDW comics where he adopted a dog and takes shockingly good care of it, being the ultimate doting pet parent. This mech needs someone to take care of, but instead of Buster, he latches onto you. I feel like he’d be just a hopeless romantic, and try way too hard. Go overboard.

Better Open the Door Pt 3

Thundercracker x Reader

• It’s stuck in his processor all day, that dance between the main characters as they grew closer from your movie. It’s a curious thing. Caught in each other’s gravity, struggling against each other, then coming together. Meant to be. He thinks of you, too. Curled against him, entrusting yourself to him. You’re so small after all compared to a Cybertronian. Fragile. You need him to protect you, you just don’t know it yet.

• He’s there waiting for you before you can even set up the little screen and projector the next Friday, just melting out of the woods with such little sound for something so huge. It’s the bush he has in his fist that you notice first though, he’s yanked up someone’s rose bush roots and all apparently. And he just grins down at you, kneeling to hold it out to you while you smile weakly, because what are you supposed to do now? He just looks so proud. “Hey, thanks,” You manage, rocking back to avoid the thorns. “Roses.”

• “For you,” he says, sounding pleased even as he realizes you can’t or won’t take the bush from him and finally sets it down. “You like roses, right?” He glances from the bush to you and back, that smile faltering somewhat.

• “They’re lovely,” you assure him because he looks so crestfallen. Someone is probably going to have a fit when they wake up to find their rose bush just gone, but he means well. When’s the last time a guy’s brought you flowers? Even if the guy is a giant alien. It’s kind of sweet and his smile brightens again. “I have a couple of different movies this time,” you begin, but he’s crouching, a huge finger sliding against the inside of your arm until it presses against your palm.

• Pleased at the feel of your hand on his, he has to resist the urge to scoop you up. It’s like holding hands, your little palm not quite in his. “Anything is fine.” Because as fun as the movies are, he wants to discuss them with you more, get your opinion. Hear you talk. And usually he pays attention to the movie, but as you get it started and wrap yourself in your blanket, he offers you a hand. And all of his attention. You hesitate only a minute, peering up at his face before settling yourself in his palm. It’s not even halfway over before you’re out. So tired. He’s not sure what you do during the day, but it’s clearly too much. Adjusting your warmth against his frame, he vents. You need rest. Someone to look after you. Keep you safe and happy. As he transforms oh so carefully around you to trap you in his canopy, he knows he’s doing the right thing. You need him, you just don’t know it yet.

Previous

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[xarology]

TFP Optimus Prime x Reader 18+ MDNI

Thoughts I got from reading another fic please hang with me here. You! with a puppy-like personality! that’s it. that’s the plot.

If there’s an opportunity to follow him you’d take it. You’re always there perched on his shoulders, whispering something silly into his audials. It reminds him of times where he was once the silly one and not tackled with prime duties

When you’re not in the mood to be silly, you lean against his helm and watch him work. Your hand constantly smoothing over the side of him helm, exploring the metal. It drives him crazy in such a good way!!! Let’s not talk about his embarrassing loud fans coming on after you dip your hand to explore his neck cabling. It startled you enough to not do it again (oh but he wishes you would)

he says random words in cybertronian when he’s talking with his teammates so he doesn’t get you excited. Mission. Scouting. Patrol. They’re all trigger words that make you jump on your heels begging to go! (life has been boring after you’ve been forcibly relocated to Jasper following the knowledge of these titan mechs)

If you’re not allowed to go for any reason you’re on the couch sulking. Ratchet is tonight’s biggest loser as his impractical jokers punishment is hearing you sigh all day long. It actually makes him antsy until he puts you to work by helping him around base when the children aren’t around. When they are however, it’s easier to distract yourself from your funk.

When Optimus gets back you want to be mad at him, you really do. You just can’t help yourself! You’re already running to give his pede a hug. You give him time to settle in and talk with the other mechs about whatever the mission was about. When you find alone time together afterwards, you’re asking all the questions!!

He loves it when you do because it gives him the opportunity to recall every detail and ponder on what he could’ve done better. There’s also a unique perspective you offer as a human and he’s always ready to hear that

Mass Displacement is a rare occurrence given their low energon reserves. HOWEVERRR! When there is more than necessary I guess he can do it just this once! (it’s never just once)

It gives him peace of mind when you’re in control. He doesn’t want to accidentally squeeze too hard and get you hurt, so he settles with you doing the work and him helping. Not that you’re complaining either, you’re practically jumping at the opportunity to have him every which way

You particularly like riding him. It makes it easier for your hands to touch all across his frame, his hands helping you ride as he lifts your hips with ease. The vibrations of his engine rumbling hitting you when you massage his seams.

Your energy seems to be boundless. There’s so many rounds and you’re always bouncing on his spike, milking him as you overstimulate each other. Your brain runs on pure bliss as you don’t register that you’re still riding. Optimus has to pull you off and you’re still seeking stimulation when you both know you can’t go any longer. He calms you down from your seemingly permanent high and you crash immediately when the exhaustion hits you

This is the same reason why you can’t cockwarm (spikewarm?) with him. At all. You can’t help trying to find stimulation and being a brat when he has you sat in his lap reading over files you don’t understand. You have too much energy and your fidget is hopping

[teapartyprincess4two]

your writing is sooo good! i NEED a johnnie smut omg please write one💞

Monster- J. Guilbert

pairing: Extrovert!reader x Shy!Johnnie

classification: SMUT w/ a plot

inspiration: request^^, Monster by Lady Gaga

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, use of y/n, dom!Johnnie (kinda), “slut,” alcohol use, slight cursing, Jake and Tara are dating in this

summary: Tara plays matchmaker, earning Johnnie the night of his life with you in a bar restroom.

—

Johnnie’s been watching you all night, but he’s waiting for the alcohol to settle into his bloodstream before he finally walks up to you. You sit at the bar in a black, backless dress that allows a few of your tattoos to peak through. Bouncy curls are swept onto your shoulder, framing one side of your face as you chat with the bartender.

“Gonna keep staring or are you finally gonna make a move?” Jake nudges Johnnie’s shoulder.

Nights out like this are common for the pair, especially when living a fast paced life in the city of Los Angeles. When they’re not filming or editing, they’re usually out getting drunk, and they’ve managed to creat regular rotation of bars.

Today they find themselves at the Magic 8 Ball, the least crowded bar in L.A on a Friday night. No matter what unfamiliar faces that fill this place, though, yours is always constant. Every Friday, without fail, you saunter in and take a seat at the bar.

Johnnie can tell, just from watching you, that you’re an extrovert. You never seem to stay at the bar, you always wander onto the dance floor and lure a random stranger in for a quick bop around the room.

That’s what intimidates him, because as an introvert he’s not sure he’ll be able to keep up.

“I’m not staring,” Johnnie quips quickly, taking a swig of whatever alcoholic mixture swirls in his glass. He hisses as the liquid goes down.

If it were just Jake and Johnnie, the conversation would’ve died there. But tonight Tara joined them and she isn’t so adamant on letting the topic go.

“You should invite her to sit with us! You never know what could happen,” she prods teasing fingers into Johnnie’s sides, “plus she looks nice! I need a girlfriend to hang out with!”

“Johnnie needs a girlfriend, Tara. Not you,” Jake jokes. Johnnie rolls is eyes, scooting away from Tara as her fingers continue digging into his sides.

“I’ve had a girlfriend,” Johnnie replies, eyes darting back to where you sit at the bar.

“Yeah, had,” Jake says.

“It’s just hard to—“

“ALRIGHT! Enough!” Tara interrupts Johnnie mid sentence, slamming her hands onto the table as she stands up. “If you won’t make a move, I will,” she says, shimmying out of the booth.

Johnnie’s eyes are blown open in shock. He tries grabbing Tara before she can get too far, but she’s small and sneaky.

“That’s one way to do it,” Jake laughs, watching in amusement as his girlfriend does what his best friend doesn’t have the balls to do.

Johnnie, on the other hand, watches in horror.

There you are, sipping on your drink and chatting with the bartender, blissfully unaware of Tara’s approaching figure.

Tara sits at the bar, taking the seat directly next to yours. She interrupts your conversation with the bartender to order two drinks, one for you and one for her, before swiftly turning her attention to you with a warm smile.

Johnnie can’t bear to watch, but he also can’t look away.

You seem to like Tara, because you’re quick to engage in conversation with her. In the matter of seconds Tara has managed to learn your name, your favorite drink, and even your favorite song (it’s the one that plays over the club speakers).

“Oh God they’re coming,” Johnnie whisper shouts, trying to look casual. Tara’s arm is looped with yours as she leads you to their table, an accomplished look painting her face.

“What the fuck do I do? What the fuck do I do?! Fuck!”

“Just act casual. Don’t be weird— Oh fuck! Just shut up!” for some reason Jake finds himself just as nervous as Johnnie. Maybe he was just being empathetic, but they both scramble to get themselves together.

“Don’t be weird? What the fuck does that—”

Johnnie can’t seem to catch a break, because as soon as Tara reaches the booth she’s interrupting him. “Guys. This is Y/n, my new friend,” she gestures towards you, “Y/n, this is my boyfriend Jake and this is our friend Johnnie.”

The moment Tara says your name it’s engraved in Johnnie’s mind. He’s already in love.

Your smile is so big it could light up the room. You extend a hand to the two, immediately introducing yourself and falling into the booth next to Johnnie.

His heart is pounding and his ears are red hot with embarrassment.

“Well, while you two get acquainted, Jake and I are gonna go get drunk,” Tara says, pulling Jake out of the booth before he can get any more comfortable than he already is. She shoots Johnnie a wink before sending you a small wave, leading a confused Jake into the crowd of people.

“She’s nice. I like her,” you comment, watching until the couple disappears. “She’s… something,” Johnnie coughs, he’s so unbelievably awkward.

You chuckle, mostly because you think he’s cute and you find his fiddly personality amusing.

“Johnnie, huh? I had a friend named Johnnie once,” you say, attempting to make conversation. Your manicured nails tap against you glass cup, silver hoop earrings reflecting the strobing lights as you try catching his gaze.

“Bet he didn’t look like this though,” Johnnie replies, clearly referring to his all black attire.

“Hmmm, no. He definitely didn’t,” you giggle. You take a sip from your drink, a lipstick stain remaining once you place the cup back onto the table. Johnnie wonders what it’d feel like to kiss you.

“You’re much cuter,” you continue. Johnnie can’t tell if he’s dreaming, were you actually flirting with him?

Maybe it’s the surge of confidence your compliment gives him, or maybe the alcohol finally kicked in, but Johnnie suddenly finds himself being flirtatious.

“So do you flirt with all the Johnnies you know?”

He’s surprised at how fast you quip back, “Nope. Just the cute ones.”

You’ve subconsciously leaned closer to him, your faces dangerously close.

“Okay, so we’ve established that I’m cute,” he smirks. “What else am I?”

You giggle, a sound that Johnnie swears he can listen to for forever.

“Well clearly you’re not shy anymore,” your finger traces the rim of your drink. A drunk smile and sultry eyes lure him in, pulling him close enough for his lip rings to press against your skin.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, a wandering hand finding your thigh. You shiver at the sensation. His fingers were ice cold, but they still managed to ignite a fire deep within your core.

“Like this?” you tease, batting your eyelashes.

You never made it a habit of sleeping with strangers, but Johnnie was the sheep in wolves clothing that played innocent until you were close enough to bite.

“I warned you,” his breath fans against your lips one last time before he’s capturing your lips in a heated kiss. It’s the first kiss Johnnie’s had in years which makes it that much more exciting.

Your plump lips chase his as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you. The club is loud, but you’re so immersed in the man in front of you that you forget you’re not the only two people in the room and lose all control.

Johnnie’s hands find your waist, tugging until you’re straddling his lap. He pulls away breathlessly, silently thanking Tara for working her magic once he sees you on top of him.

Your dress rides up slightly, revealing more of your backside than you’d like. The sight earns you a few whistles from bystanders, breaking you from your lustful daze. “Oh shit,” you squeak, trying to scramble off of Johnnie, but his grip is firm enough to keep you in place.

An animalistic, monster-like need has overtaken him and he’s willing to sacrifice his self image to fuck you in front of all these strangers. But he simultaneously doesn’t want anyone else to see you, to enjoy you, the way he’s about to.

“Restroom. Now,” he growls, pinching the soft skin of your ass. You squeal in excitement, allowing the desires of your flesh to cloud your judgement as you hop off of him and wiggle your way out of the booth. You adjust your dress as you wait for Johnnie to follow before taking his hand in yours and leading him towards the restroom. He makes a mental note to let this be the only time you lead him tonight.

Everyone’s watching, yet you can’t find it in you to feel embarrassed. If anything it excites you more.

You find the restroom quickly, a wave of gratitude washing over you when you realize it’s a single stall. This means you can be as loud as you want, and from the look in Johnnie’s eyes, you can tell you’ll also need the extra room.

He’s quick to lock the door and immediately engulfs your face in his hands, bringing you in for the second heated kiss of the night. Johnnie’s eager and it shows in the way he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip.

His left hand remains on your face while the other travels down to your ass, squeezing firmly against the material of your dress. A moan escapes your lips, providing him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes surprisingly sweet, like pomegranate and pineapple.

He leads you to the sink counter, your bodies bouncing back slightly when they hit the cold marble. “Up,” he commands.

You hop onto the counter, giving him enough room to fit between your legs. Johnnie’s erection presses against your inner thigh, but he gives you no time to comment on it before his lips are back on yours.

Johnnie’s hand’s find your boobs, massaging your mounds slowly as he deepens the kiss. “More,” you murmur against the kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him in closer to you. He smirks against your mouth at your neediness.

“So needy.” He pulls your head back, providing him with perfect access to your neck. Sloppy, open mouth kisses trail from your jawline down to your exposed collarbone. Each one gives you goosebumps.

“Fuck me please,” you whimper, feeling your panties become more soaked by the second. “So polite,” he teases, sucking on your skin until it bruises.

The rough material of his jeans comes in contact with your clothed pussy. He dry humps you just to hear the strained moans that escape your lips.

Finally, when you rut back, he decides he’s teased you enough. Your dress is bunched up around your waist, exposing the wet underwear that he pushes to the side.

“So fucking sexy,” he grunts, kneeling in front of you to get a better view. He’s in love. What he wants to do is eat you out, but there’s no time for that in a club as crowded as this. Especially not when there’s only one restroom.

You watch in awe as he presses a quick kiss on your bundle of nerves, immediately licking his lips right after. “Yummy,” he chuckles, bringing you in for another hungry kiss.

Your hands find his belt, unbuckling it with fervor and tugging at his belt loop to bring him back in to you. He gets the message and helps you in unbuttoning his skin-tight jeans. Your forehead is flush against his as you watch his dick spring up, it bobs back and forth as you take in the sheer size.

“Holy fuck,” your voice is full of exasperation. How was that meant to fit inside of you?

Maybe it’s because he hasn’t done this in a long time, but Johnnie suddenly feels self conscious. He hides his face in your neck before you can notice how red it becomes, but you’re quick to push his shoulders back.

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed. Where’d that monster go?” you place a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. His dick twitches and cries precum at the reassurance.

He pulls you back in for a kiss, feeling confident once again. He lines himself up tentatively with your entrance, rubbing the tip along your folds before slowly pushing himself in.

Your eyes are screwed shut, small tears forming at the corners as you struggle to adjust to the stretch. “Fuck Johnnie, wait,” you say, pushing against his stomach slightly. Suddenly you’re not sure you want him to fuck you dumb, his size alone was enough to have you seeing stars.

Your words fall on deaf ears, though, and before you know it he’s pushed himself all the way in. You gasp, throwing your head back against the bathroom mirror. Your pussy clenches around him as you try to hold him in place knowing the longer you keep him there, the more time you’ll have to adjust.

It’s no use though, because he begins thrusting into you at a relentless, unforgiving pace. The pain is quickly replaced with pleasure, the tip of his penis kissing your cervix every time his hips slam into yours.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” he grunts, strong hands gripping your waist so he can fuck into you even faster. You whimper at the sensation, his fingers were sure to leave bruises.

“Just like that, Johnnie. So good,” you egg him on, holding onto his neck for support. He hasn’t slowed his pace, instead moving one hand from your hips down to your throbbing clit.

Your legs instinctively push together, but his body moves them back into their previous position as he continues. “Such a slut,” he purrs, watching the euphoric look that paints your face when he rubs his thumb against your sensitive nub.

“Yes! Such a slut,” you’re drunk on dick, babbling whatever will get you closer to your pending release.

“My slut?” he asks, using the hand that was previously gripping your waist to take a firm hold of your face. Your eyes lock with his, taking notice of the way lust clouds his pupils. “All yours,” you whisper.

He smirks, leaning down to kiss you. Your tongues collide in a heated mixture of moans and whimpers. All the while he continues pounding into you and rubbing circles on your clit.

One particularly hard thrust has you dumb, a string of curse words and chants of his name being the only thing you can manage to say. “C’mon baby, c’mon,” he growls, sloppily kissing you as he feels his climax approaching.

“Johnnie!”

Your walls flutter around him, your entire body trembling as your orgasm washes over you.

Your hair falls in front of your face and you find yourself holding Johnnie’s wrist, pushing his hand away as it continues working on your clit. “Almost there,” he moans, pulling his hand away to focus his attention on fucking you.

You’re sensitive. You’re whimpering. You’re so fucked out that it’s overstimulating.

“Cum for me, handsome,” you moan, still coming down from your own high. He continues rutting his hips into you, chasing his release until finally it washes over him.

Hot spurts of cum paint your insides, lazy hips rolling against you. He’s panting from above you, hands falling from your body and latching onto the counter for support.

“Fuck that was… that was amazing,” Johnnie says, pulling out of you reluctantly.

He knows the sooner he pulls out and you two get dressed, the quicker you’ll become strangers. And that’s terrifying.

“You were amazing,” you reply, using your finger to pull his pensive gaze back towards you by his chin.

“Don’t tell me it’s a one and done,” you pout, “I was hoping to have more moments like that.”

Johnnie still stands between your legs, his limp dick resting on your exposed thighs. He lights up at your suggestion. His hands have opted for a much softer hold on your hips, thumbs massaging your skin. He knows he was rough, but he couldn’t help it.

“I mean— I’d like to— we could— fuck I’m so bad at this,” he stutters, suddenly reverting back to his natural, awkward state.

“You’re cute,” you giggle, pecking his nose and hopping off the counter. His ears flush red again.

“How about we get cleaned up and then we’ll worry about the rest later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” a big goofy smile adorns his face. His rosy cheeks make you wanna pinch him and gush over how cute he looks.

“Weren’t you just fucking my brains out a second ago?” you tease, only making him more flustered.

“I’m shy, I can’t help it.”

“Not that shy apparently,” you pull him in for one more kiss.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n: Tara the goat, the best wingwoman ever!

I locked in. Thank you for ur kind words bby, I LUV U!

Enjoy 🎱😜 - L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

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[erwinsvow]

YOU LOOK SO SWEET — RC.

“i can’t believe you made out with sarah’s brother,” your friend comments. you choke on your water. 

it had been an hour or so since your friends had dragged you out of the bar, bringing you home with them for the pre-planned sleepover that you had been ready to ditch for rafe. in that time you and your friends had taken off your makeup and changed into pajamas, munching on pizza on the floor of your bedroom while discussing the night’s events like you always did. you wipe your mouth, looking up at them incredulously. 

“what?” 

“you didn’t know that was rafe cameron? shut up.”

“he’s a psycho, that’s what she always says-”

“he was really nice to me,” you defend, not liking the way your friends sound right now. the rest of the night goes like that—you trying to counter and justify everything rafe did for you last night with your friends telling you it’s a good thing they dragged you away. 

they fall asleep shortly after, but you lie awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering what time your friends will leave in the morning. you’re making plans to go to tannyhill. 

normally breakfast the morning after going out is a sacred ritual between you and your friends, which is why they’re extra surprised when you usher them out without any real reason. you hurry back to the kitchen after their car drives away, getting everything ready to make cookies and wondering which kind rafe likes best.

rafe sees it from inside tannyhill—the white bike with the wicker basket pulling up the driveway, the tiny figure dressed in pink parking it next to his truck. you climb off your bike and even from up here he can appreciate how short your dress is, how you almost gave the gardeners a show. he's gotta teach you to be more careful.

you reach into the basket to pull out a matching pink container, walking up to the front door. he’s down the stairs and opening the door before you’ve even had a chance to ring the doorbell. 

you beam at rafe, hoping he remembers you and wasn’t drunk during that entire encounter. you smile brightly, offering the pink box of cookies to him.

“sorry to just drop by like this. i made cookies for you. um, to say thank you.”

“yeah, kid? that’s real cute.”

“oh. thank you.” he looks down at you, leaning against the door frame.

your chest is heaving, material of your tight dress moving up and down while you keep your gaze fixed on him, eyes big and blinking fast. you don’t even realize how you look right now, trusting and innocent and staring up at rafe like you’d do whatever he asked. if you looked like prey yesterday night, you’re the definition of an offering today, walking straight into the predator’s den.

“i didn’t know what kind you liked, so i made a whole bunch.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” you stare back at rafe for another few seconds, then tear your eyes away. you think he wants you to go, and as much as you like him, as much as you feel a little brainless around him, you’re not stupid—you can tell when you’re not wanted. “well, i should go. thanks again for last night.”

“stop thankin’ me. it was nothin’.” rafe steps out of the house, just a foot from you on the porch now. his hand comes to rest on your shoulder and you nearly jump at the touch. “come inside. can’t eat all these myself.”

your pretty smile comes rushing back, following him inside just like you had followed him to the dance floor yesterday, looking around at the walls of tannyhill. you’d been once before, years ago for a party for sarah’s birthday that the entire class had been invited to,  but you hadn’t admired it then. nor did you realize what other treasures laid inside.

“want milk?” rafe questions, opening up the fridge while you rest your hands on the marble island in the kitchen. you nod your head, still looking around and taking in the new environment. rafe comes back to you with the jug of milk and two glasses, pouring you a cup first.

“how was the rest of your night?” you ask tentatively, breaking an oatmeal raisin cookie in half and offering rafe the other piece. he accepts it with a grin. you’re nervous—scared of the answer, wondering if another girl took your place after you left.

“boring. i left after you did.” he bites into the cookie, and then takes a sip of milk. if he thought you were beaming earlier, you’re radiant now—looking up at him like he’s hung the moon for you. your laugh—and even that’s pretty—fills the room.

“that’s not how you’re supposed to do it, rafe,” you giggle, dipping your own cookie into the milk first to demonstrate. “see?”

it’s quick. rafe takes your wrist into his hand, guiding it up to your mouth, making you take a bite. he doesn’t let go while he speaks, either.

“now it’s soggy. see?” you nod, watching where he’s touching you with big eyes. if you’re this reactive to a little skin contact, he’s dying to see what you’ll be like naked in his bed. he reminds himself to be patient.

“i didn’t realize i was doing it wrong,” you comment, picking up another cookie, this time snickerdoodle, to break in half. he’s half surprised at your compliance, half wondering what else he could convince you of with a little manhandling and kissing.

“don’t worry, kid. i’ll teach you right and wrong.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

august 2024 episode of octavinelle + 4koma update

You know the drill by now!

Spoilers for the 4koma and the Episode of Octavinelle chapter 12 below the cut. As a reminder, the Episode of Savanaclaw won’t be updating again until winter.

🫵 THERE THEY ARE…

THE SMOOTH CRIMINALS…

The poses in this opening page are so good; Leona sat all lax like a boss who knows who’s large and in charge, Ruggie leaning against the chair and swinging the keys to the vault around on one finger… The posing perfectly captures their personalities and roles in relationship to one another.

Once again, Azul makes many fantastically desperate and despair-filled expressions this installment 😭

Falling to his knees???? Laying flat on the floor??? Man is UNMATCHED when it comes to theatrics.

I like this shot of Azul and Leona’s gazes lining up; it really helps give you the sense of two rivals sizing each other up.

(Side note: you can also tell how much painstaking detail the artists went through to include their eye makeup in these close-ups. Hats off to them for the extra effort, it looks great!)

… WHY DiD THEY hAvFTA mAkE HIM So smUGHERE 💀

damn i wish i was that stack of contracts

… I mean what

sorry

Sorry

SORRY

I got distracted there, what were we talking about again????

AYO they always make Leona casting King’s Roar look so darn cool in the manga 😭

My favorite panel in this sequence has to be the one with the text bubbles. He looks so nonchalant and a little stern as he speaks the chant… The shadows on his face add a lot to the atmosphere of it!

This chapter is the part where Leona gets to sanding Azul’s hard work away! Look at how beautifully drawn Azul’s reaction is ✨

The particle-y effect of the contracts melting into sand is nice 😌 It feeds Azul’s tears… Tasty meal…

MOU YADA IN MANGA FORM IS PEAK

lmao Azul for real threw a tantrum, flailing his limbs and everything 🤡 Love that even Leona and Ruggie have NO idea how they should respond to this.

Oh no, here comes the OB…

The anguish Azul’s experiencing is really coming through. He’s sweating so much and his entire face is so. Er… for lack of a better term, twisted.

I think seeing the blot leaking out from each of them helps to illustrate that they’re truly being overwhelmed and consumed by their own inner darkness. It’s sad to see 😔

We cut back to Yuuta and co. squaring off against the twins!

I wanted to point out and comment on these parts with Jack. He’s not a character that I usually pay much attention to, but I gotta commend him for fighting back so hard and trying to shield the picture even when he’s clearly got no chance of winning. Jack bearing his fangs at Floyd with pupils contracted… 🫶 Very good and loyal pupper! I get the Jack appeal now, lol

I LOVE THIS

It reminds me of the similar Azul-Leona framing earlier in the chapter, though with a different context. I like that this shows how the twins are in sync and coming to the same terrible conclusion.

Not long after, they rush to Azul’s side—which makes me think that these two worry for his wellbeing 😭 THEY DONmT SAY IT OUT LOUD BUT THEY CARE

Oh yeah, here it comes… OB Azul has arrived!! 👀

I MEAN YEAH it’s not good for his health, but I’m so hyped for the battle and flashbacks to his childhood! Baby!Azul shall NOT escape our sight…

The 4koma this month centers on Jack, Vargas, and others (Jade, Kalim, Deuce) talking about using transformation magic for racing.

dhejeveiwhwuow I would say more, but I actually didn’t find this 4koma that remarkable. It’s a generally the boys chatting about animals and their different activities they excel at.