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wolfjackle-creates · 10 months ago

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Bring Me Home Arc 3 Part 2

Happy WIP Wednesday. Bring Me Home won last week's poll. But it was a close one! If you want a say in what I post next week, be sure to vote in this week's poll. ^.^

Story Summary: Danny's parents find out his secret. It doesn't go well. But he's not alone. His friend Tim Drake, better known as Red Robin, and the Young Justice will not let him suffer.

We switch to Tim's POV for this part.

Warnings: Aftermath of torture

Arc 1: AO3

Arc 2: First, Last

Word Count: 1.7k

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The instant Kon got the door to the lab open, Tim sprinted down the stairs. The first thing he saw was Jack and Maddie standing over a table, green ectoplasm, blood covering everything.

Then his eyes fixed on Danny. Danny, cut open and bleeding with a muzzle on while his parents looked at his insides.

He rushed forward, tackling Maddie and tearing her away from Danny. She screamed and fought back, landing one punch before Tim kicked her back a step. Then he pulled out his staff and landed a hard blow across her chest, forcing her further back.

Next to him, Cassie was taking care of Jack. He exchanged a quick glance with her and the two began herding the pair towards the wall. Away from Danny.

Behind him, Tim could hear Sam call out for Kon then a cry of pain.

“He’s still alive!” called out Kon. “I can hear both his core and heart.”

Tim couldn’t relax. Alive didn’t mean much. He put more force on his next swing of his staff, aiming for Maddie’s shoulder. But she ducked and twisted just right to get under the swing and move closer.

She slashed back with a scalpel, one still covered in Danny’s blood. Tim growled as he blocked it with his arm, the armor of his suit preventing it from reaching skin. He swung his staff again, getting her in the side hard then jerking up to hit her in the armpit.

He smiled in satisfaction when he dislocated her shoulder, causing her to drop the scalpel.

“You’ve got this all wrong!” she protested as she held her shoulder. “Jack and I are the good guys here. The ghosts, they’re all evil!”

Tim snarled. “The only evil I see here are the two so-called scientists who were torturing their own son!”

Maddie tensed at his words. “Don’t you dare say that. I’m trying to save my son from the monster that took his body.”

Tim swung again, aiming for her feet. Already distracted by the pain in her shoulder, the hit landed and she fell. He hit again and he felt her ankle break. Good, she wouldn’t be getting away.

“Why don’t you just shut the fuck up,” growled Tim.

Jack landed on the ground next to his wife, taken out by a punch from Cassie. Tim took the time to swing at him, too.

Again and again and again, he brought his staff down on them. Not stopping as they cried out in pain or as he felt more bones break under his blows. Until the time when he tried to swing down, but his staff refused to move.

He spun around, scowling, to come face to face with Cassie who had his staff firmly in her own grip.

“That’s enough, Rob. They’re down and they won’t be moving. Impulse and I will make sure of it. You need to go with the others.”

Behind her, Tim could see Sam fussing over Danny, still on the table. Bart and Tucker were at the computers trying to download as much information as they could. And Kon was staring right at him.

“Transport?” asked Tim.

Kon pulled out his phone to check. “Just arrived. Let’s go, Rob.”

Tim nodded. “Fine.” To Cassie, he said, “I want them in custody.”

She nodded. “Obviously. We all do. Impulse, Tucker, and I will take care of things here.”

“Then let’s go.” Tim stalked away from Jack and Maddie, refusing to look back. He wasn’t sure he could stop a second time.

Someone must have found a blanket and gotten it under Danny. All Kon had to do was touch the blanket, and it lifted up. Danny was held completely straight in the make-shift stretcher as Kon single-handedly used his TTK to carry him, Sam leading the way out of the lab.

The doors opened for them on the way out, Kon’s TTK again. And sure enough there by the curb was a nondescript van, engine still running.

Jazz got out the driver’s seat the instant Kon appeared in the doorway to open the back of the van.

“Bring him in here! I’ve got a bed set up,” she said.

Kon, of course, went first. But Tim and Sam were only steps behind him. Inside the van, the bench on one side had been fitted with a futon mattress to form a makeshift bed. Overhead, lights had been fitted to make sure the area was bright enough to see. Kon carefully laid Danny down then backed up so Sam and Jazz could move in.

“Keys are in the ignition,” said Jazz. “Get us away from the house, then let Sam and I patch him up.”

“You’ve got it,” said Kon who took his spot behind the wheel.

Tim shut the doors to the van and stood against the opposite side of the van. This was his first good look at Danny.

His friend was still in his Phantom form, but his jumpsuit had been torn and peeled away from his body. His chest was covered in so much blood he could barely see the wound, but the tell-tale y-incision was unmistakable.

Jazz and Sam were carefully wiping away the blood as best they could, using towels that had been neatly stacked in a box next to the cot.

Tim looked around until he saw an empty bucket. He pushed it towards the two girls. “Put the dirty ones in here.”

Kon pulled away from the Fenton house, aiming for their local out-of-town-limits rendezvous spot. “I can keep Danny from being jostled by the road. Don’t know if I can do the same for the rest of you if you’re moving, though.”

“Let’s not test it right now,” said Tim. “But we will be practicing that later. Never know when we might need it again.”

Jazz dropped her first towel and grabbed another. Her hands were shaking.

Tim knelt by her side and placed a hand on her wrist. “Let me. Right now we’re just trying to hold him together and I can do that as well as you can. He’s going to be just fine, I’ll make sure of it.”

“But I’m the one who trained with Frostbite.” Her voice cracked on a sob.

Tim grabbed the towel from her hands and used it to put pressure on Danny’s wound. “And I don’t need specialized training for this part of it.”

Jazz hesitated a moment longer, but with a last look at her brother, she spun and ran to the other side of the van. Tim listened to her muffled cries as he held the towel to Danny’s chest.

Sam shifted until their shoulders were pressed together and he leaned slightly into the touch. Neither said anything.

Soon enough, Kon was pulling off the road and the van came to a stop. The instant it did, Jazz was pushing her way into his place, two boxes in her hand. She opened one to reveal a large first aid kit, as well stocked as anything he had in his most-used safe house.

Tim took up a position at the foot of the bench and pulled out a small camera he had in his belt. He took careful pictures of all the visible wounds. Kon came up besides him and put an arm around his shoulder.

Jazz opened the second case, letting out a hiss of cold air and frost. Without hesitating, she put on two heavy duty gloves and lifted out what looked to be an ice cube.

Sam, meanwhile, was measuring out enough glowing green thread to cover Danny’s wound. Tim took another picture.

Jazz placed four ice cubes into the injury—one at the end of each cut and one where the lines intersected. Then Sam laid the thread over the wound. She muttered something and it phased into Danny’s skin without the use of a needle and pulled the injury together.

The glow faded slightly and if he didn’t know better, Tim would’ve thought they were regular stitches.

From there, they focused on cleaning off the remaining blood. The van was mostly silent—Sam and Jazz only communicating the bare minimum necessary to care for Danny. Even Tim’s camera was entirely silent, designed as it was for stealth.

As Danny was wiped clean, more and more injuries were revealed. Only years of bat training kept Tim standing and taking pictures. But his grip on the camera was much tighter than it needed to be. Kon’s fingers were digging into his shoulder almost painfully, but Tim didn’t say anything. Sam and Jazz were forcibly holding themselves together, but the odd hitch in their breath or tremble in their fingers gave them away, too.

A nasty burn spanning Danny’s left side was revealed. Tim clicked the camera, and Sam applied an ectoplasm-based ointment to it. Then Jazz covered the injury with a bandage.

The process was repeated time and again for each injury they discovered. But eventually, all the wounds were tended to. Once Jazz did a final look, she nodded with grim satisfaction.

“Superboy, could you use your powers to wrap his chest?”

“Of course!” Kon left Tim’s side to grab a roll of gauze and took up his own place at Danny’s side. All he had to do, though, was place the roll on the bed and his powers took care of everything else.

Tim wished he could do something half so useful. Next time Danny managed to get to the Realms, he was so joining him and getting his own lessons directly from Frostbite.

“Just one more thing to do,” said Jazz. She reached into the first aid kit and pulled out a small box. Inside sat a syringe filled with ectoplasm. She jammed it into Danny’s thigh and pressed the plunger.

Danny’s eyes flew opened and he let out a yell as his back arched off the bed.

Sam was already hovering over him. “Danny? How are you feeling?”

Danny panted for breath, but looked at her with a wry smile. “Pretty much the worse I’ve ever felt.” He looked from Sam to Jazz to Kon before meeting Tim’s eyes. “You came.”

“I always will,” said Tim.

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I'm not an expert on emergency medicine, so I figured why not go the magical route?

Tim wishes he could help in a more hands-on way, but documenting injuries is important if you want to bring them up in court. No one knows yet if Danny will want that, but this way they have them in case they're necessary.

Tucker, Bart, and Cassie are remaining behind to bring the Fentons to JL holding cells. Tucker is the one who knows the Fenton computers best after Danny, after all.

All ready we can see some major changes from my original version. What else will change? And, more importantly, what will stay the same?

#dpxdc #danny fenton #tim drake #kon el #jazz fenton #sam manson #these poor kids #should not have to deal with situations like this #whatever adult heroes are on duty #when impulse and wonder girl come up #with some trussed up mad scientists #with a bunch of broken bones #crying about illegal experimentation on sapient creatures #are going to regret being on shift #they're not gonna be getting much sleep for the next #...#long while

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zemnarihah · 12 days ago

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art students are suuuuch babies dude i actually can't believe all the profs are so nice i'd be grabbing people by the shoulders and shaking them and yelling "JUST REMIX THE FUCKING COLOR WHY HAVE YOU TAKEN 3 PAINTING CLASSES AND YOU STILL WONT EVEN ATTEMPT TO MATCH A COLOR THAT YOU MIXED BEFORE WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING THIS WHOLE TIME DO YOU HAVE LITERALLY NO DESIRE TO IMPROVE OR DO YOU HONESTLY THINK THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOU AND THE PERSON WHO IS ALWAYS MAKING INCREIDBLE WORK IS ONLY OUTSIDE FACTORS YOU CLAIM TO HAVE NO CONTROL OVER RATHER THAN WORK AND A WILLINGNESS TO TRY CHALLENGING THINGS

#i actually was talking about this w one of my classmates during lunch today we were like yeah i feel like there's a lot of people who just #have tons of excuses all the time and don't really take it seriously and don't want to actually try hard #like in our classes we have noticed a lot of people like this this semester. and we have the little chat and then we go to class and the #whole time our other classmate is crying to me abt how her paints that she had mixed got too wet? in her stay wet palette bc i guess she put #too much water on the sponge? idk i use paper towels in a tupperware so idk what her struggle was.... 30 dollar palette btw....#anyway she was crying to me the whole time about how she couldn't possibly use those paints and i was like. cant you squeeze out more paint #to correct the consistency? and she was like no i can't remix them i don't remember what colors i used to get these specific colors #and i'm sitting there like. okayyyy. and then i was like can you not just use the watered down paints i think it actually is better bc you #can get really subtle blends and build it up slowly (the entire point of the assignment btw) and she was like no it's too watery even for #that (it wasn't) i encourage her to try anyway and she starts putting it down making no effort to blend in between layers and shows it to me #and it of course looks awful and she's like seeee it doesn't work. okay girl sure i guess just don't fucking do the assignment see if i care #like why are you complaining to me why are you not just MAKING AN ATTEMPT TO GET BETTER AT SOMETHING #what do you think school is FOR #and of course she had a headache. and of course she didn't sleep well. and one million other things. you're not gonna make it. you're gonna #apply for the bfa program and they're gonna deny you and you're gonna make up some reason it somehow wasn't your fault #god i hate to be mean i think it's valid to struggle and get frustrated OF COURSE i do it all the time but i never ever see her just like.#make something. without making up a million reasons why she could t do x better or get it done even CLOSE to on time #and there's like 6 of this girl. but she's the one who sits next to me so it just drives me extra!!! crazy!!!

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theheadlessgroom · 3 months ago

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@beatingheart-bride

"I, uh...I never gave too much thought to Annabel Lee before," Susannah confessed with a small smile: She was familiar with it, of course, but it wasn't one she often revisited when going back to Poe's most famous works. It was likely something she would've enjoyed some years before, but these days, she tended to shy away from stories and poems that dealt with romance...happy or not.

But Philippe's affection for it, the way he spoke of it with such fondness, despite the poem's somber nature...it made her wish to go back and reread it, just to see what he saw. Perhaps, through his eyes, she'd gain a better appreciation for it.

"I'll...I'll have to go back to it," she nodded earnestly, a touch excited by the notion, before flashing him a little smile, recalling, "I-I bought my copy of Frankenstein second-hand; it was near Halloween, and the, uh...the cover called to me too. It frightened me, but I just couldn't put it down!"

Her father was a great admirer of the author's husband Percy; he had a number of his poems on their bookshelf, and used to read them to Susannah when she was a bit younger. He didn't completely understand his daughter's affection for such scary stories, but he never dissuaded her from reading them. One of the last birthday gifts he gave her before his passing was a copy of John Polidori's The Vampire, she'd yet to read it.

#((they're gonna be absolutely slammed! you think you've just put down your babies for bed))#((and the next thing you know there's two wide-awake puppies running underfoot))#((showing no signs of going to sleep anytime soon; which means YOU aren't getting any sleep for a while))#((and even for a nocturnal werewolf like randall; that's gonna run him ragged just as much as it will emily!))#((they do make a great team and you *know* they'll find a way to balance it; a way to get the pups to settle down a little))#((and give their parents a chance to catch some z's but still; it is NOT gonna be an easy challenge by any means!))#((it doesn't help that if one twin wakes up and sneaks off; the other won't be too far behind!))#((makes me wonder if randall and emily will have to divide and conquer when it comes to getting the two to settle down!))#outofhatboxes #beatingheart-bride #V:Genderbent

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lonely--seeker · 1 year ago

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I got his stinky ass a collar!

#*sobs* FINE he is my dog #im taking responsibility for this bastard #he's sleeping in my bed because my grandparents decided he was okay sleeping in the kitchen on the floor and i feel bad for him #he loves beds so much i ;;;#i've gone soft #...#i bought him new gear ill take pics next time we go to the park #also im gonna go through so much shame and so when i go get his tag done #they're gonna ask how is my dog named and ill #hes not my dog anymore

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mathlann · 1 year ago

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While I know in general it is a truth universally acknowledged that a sarcastic man in possession of a tragic backstory must be in want of a redemption arc, I do think there's something genuinely refreshing sometimes for a character to come out the other side and still just suck.

#i enjoy an “i can fix him/we can fix each other” dynamic as much as the next girlie #like if Astarion isnt sleeping on the metaphorical couch through most of act 3 i feel like im failing my job #but also as a mean character enjoyer sometimes i like it more when a character's moral compass is entirely separate from anything im doing #this also goes hand on hand with liking characters who arent gonna break their moral code for you #its just more interesting to me idk #fandom analysis trends also dont help my general weariness either but #:/ its too late at night to get into that #anyways hugging and kissing daeran camellia regill wotr they're all horrible and i love that i cant do anything about it

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helloidkwhatimdoing-0 · 11 months ago

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Okay i really should go to sleep bc im so tired but also b4 i go to sleep i need to tell you all how comfy my pyjamas are bc HOLY SHIT

I got new ones as a late Christmas present and they are

AUGH

they're so comfortable i could cry tears of joy and thats only slightly an exaggeration— what the fuck 😭✨

I love them so much

#moss mumbles #i need to buy another set of these exact pyjamas #or the exact material and size but witha different pattern #they're literally just fleece ones from primark #but holy shit #i haven't washed them yet tho. so. gonna see how they hold up after going through the wash #and if they're still THIS comfy #then 100% i am buying like 3 more pyjama sets from primark #also i got fluffy socks as well and i actually just love being comfy in soft clothes so much #all i do is spend my time wondering when i will next get to be cosy comfy in bed #all my days consist of is longing for and waiting to be cosy comfy in bed #why am i genuinely getting hyperfixated on how comfy my pyjamas are #okay i need to sleep #but yeah I LOVE THESE THINGS

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stereax · 9 months ago

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woohoo spiraling out of control right now (what else is new really I've been fucked up and spiraling for weeks now) and trying to figure out reasons not to delete my tumblr and discord and myself along the way

but you know. talking about myself on my blog automatically means I'm attention seeking and fishing for pity right? should just shut up and stick to the news eh, it's all I'm good for :D

anyway if you need me I'll be in the corner reliving the past, coming to terms with reality, and trying to convince myself I'm not the problem despite every indication to the contrary ✌︎︎

#sterechats :)#09:58 pm - this is a bad idea but scheduling it anyway #what's the worst that can happen really? everyone leaves again? nobody talks to me again?#probably gonna delete this in the morning so. meh. not like it matters not like I matter :D #10:29 pm - wow it feels like my head is on fire #like my brain is actually burning and I can't do a damn thing about it #I should be happy right now! the devils are winning! my favorite guys are scoring!#but no! I'm barely keeping it together around my family and praying I don't wake up tomorrow <3 #11:00 pm - I need to get out of here #I need to get out of here out of here out of here I can't stay here any more this is killing me #everyone hates me and I need to chew my arms open maybe then everything will make sense #why am I even writing these tags what does it matter #I was so much more in control of myself when I was sh-ing #maybe I should get back to that maybe it'll help I don't know anymore #I just want my friends back but they hate me hahahaha #11:24 pm - wonder how many people are gonna block me after this one #how many people will finally be fed up and leave for good #everyone leaves and I should be used to this by now #here's a truck stop instead of saint peter's (yeah yeah yeah yeah)#11:41 pm - it's friday afternoon/there goes antigone to be buried alive #in the next world I want to be something useful/like a staple gun/or in love #I would fall off a cliff for you/a thousand times and call it a good day #maybe I'm just incapable of being human! maybe that's it!#maybe I'm not even human at all... but something worse instead...#1:22 am - moving the posting of this back from 3 to 6 am #not that that matters and not that I matter but I don't think I'll sleep #and I don't want this to post when I'm awake #I know I'm just going to get unfollowed and blocked and left behind as always #because happiness and good things and friendships just aren't things I get to have really #I just wish people would stop lying and telling me they're different and they'll stay when they're not different and won't stay

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sysig · 2 years ago

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Pick a side, it’s the same coin (Patreon)

#Doodles #I've been drawing myself less lately :0 I'm not sure why exactly - I can take a guess but hmm!#I mean I've also been doodling less overall lately which tends to happen between events haha #But I'm still doodling /some/ things just Sona Classic less #I usually draw myself (and Bar) when I'm poorly but I've been doing kinda good this year so far actually :0 #Not a Huge uptick or anything but noticeable! Probably calculable hmmmm that might be some fun data to crunch on lol #I do have my moments of course lol #First just a casual complaint about my hair I need a haircut I always need a haircut I want a haircut I'm gonna get one #Especially before it gets hot egh #I've got swoopies as like bed-hair and resting while my hair's wet lol #It switches sides! How does it do that #Bad Mood Brain - had one recently too #At least they only last about a day lately! Sleep-reset and the next day is better :)#Still hard to slog through the low days tho |P But I've had 100% success so far lol #Finishing up a page and ran out of toner again lol - just on the energy side it's easier to just draw the lines and not worry about it #Finishes the page quicker! Much better lol #And finally the big'n #I had maybe thought that I'd been unduly ignoring [Purple Text] for a while but a year?? Damn #They're still fun to draw - rude #Wings man #Really playing up the manic side of the low moods - it's a coin toss it's just a matter of taking inventory of which side to approach from #They at least give the alternate perspective - I don't have to like them but they are good at it

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six-improbable-things · 3 months ago

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I forgot to post anything about this, but I did the scene where I had to read some of my writing to the dnd party (twice!) and they were SO nice about it. I couldn't stop smiling. (which was kind of a weird disconnect since the scenes were super dark, lmao.) But augh, I'm so glad they were nice to meeee. My poor boy Rook is Going Through It right now, and things are about to get worse.

Next session we also might get to do our first version of ship combat using the rules I made which is kind of wild. I'm very nervous, but I feel like after this last session and sharing stuff I wrote with them (out loud!!!) I can handle it. Probably.

#morrigan.text #I literally couldn't sleep saturday night because I was too nervous-cited for the session. But it actually went really well.#for everyone tbh. Not just me. Everyone knocked it out of the park with their obituaries for the dead PC and it was great.#we even made his player cry asdkjaskdjasd.#Rook's obituary was a train wreck but that's the whole point of it so like I accomplished my goal lmao.#everyone was SO mad at him it was kind of funny.#he stared down a FUMING ancient moon dragon and didn't get turned to ice so that's good.#my beloved idiot bastard man. he does NOT deserve the shit I'm putting him through right now.#mmm maybe I'll rewrite the scene where he stared down the moon dragon bc it was really intense and is much less monologue-y than the eulogy #which will make it easier to write. I suck at writing monologues into proper prose form.#anyways.#morrigan plays dnd #campaign: the vanguard #also... the fact that Rook literally JUST got done saying how no one needs him and then this fucking dragon (who is FURIOUS with him rn) is #like ''I'm not killing you because your friends need you and I need you''... god. My oblivious little baby boy. What the fuck Rook.#Accept that your friends love you goddammit.#and then the party bard who Rook has been beefing with for weeks was actually really nice to him??? and that fucked him up too.#but he still left the party (intending to only be gone a day) to think about shit and also grieve for his mentor who turned out to be evil.#since he knows no one in the party liked that guy anyways and they did violently murder him in front of Rook...#So next session Rook has ANOTHER funeral (kind of) and he also is gonna get kidnapped.#and Val gets to show up!!!! Val my beloved!!! I'm very excited to play them but I have no idea how the fuck to play them off.#they're the complete opposite from Rook in every way and Rook is easy for me to play. So Val will be... a challenge.#I'm not cut out to play characters who are genuinely good people lmao.

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imaginedisish · 4 months ago

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Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: This took way longer than expected, and I also sort of got carried away...Hope it still lives up to the requester's expectations (I also saw that the anon asked for fluff...and this ended up being fluff and smut...hope that's okay). Def some errors...I only proofread twice. This one is also inspired by "Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby" by Cigarettes After Sex. Enjoy!

Summary: Logan's kindness towards you is strictly friendly. Until it's not just friendly anymore...

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI! Unprotected PIV, Oral (f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms (uh, they're outside...), grumpy!Logan, cursing, major angst, comfort, fluff, references to canon typical violence/death/conflicts, f!reader/afab!reader (reader has hair at the nape of her neck but no description of length/texture/color), mutant!reader, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,662 my back hurts

It had been a long day. Every day was a long day. There were the kids to worry about, and then there was the rest of the world. There’s a war coming, you see it everywhere you look, and hear it everywhere you go. The news. The papers. The kids whispering in hushed echoes late at night when you’re walking the halls sleeplessly. You don’t want a war. You want a life.

The mansion is still bustling—it always is—but it’s slowly winding down. You listen as kids walk up the stairs in waves, heading into their bedrooms for the night. You know you should too, but you like it when the mansion gets quiet. You like knowing that everyone is safe, tucked away. You like it when no one else is around—when you can be alone, the stillness and quiet of a dark and sleeping house cradling you like a mother.

You find yourself in one of the living rooms, the T.V. still on, playing reruns of a cartoon you recognize from years ago. You smile as laughter erupts from down the hall, the padding of small feet echoing along the floorboards and the sound of much heavier boots following close behind.

“Hey! Watch it!” A grumpy, familiar voice shouts as kids run past the doorway to the living room, giggling mischievously. “Fucking kids.” You turn towards the sound of Logan’s voice as it bounces off the walls, his frame entering the doorway.

He has a plate of cookies in one hand and a glass of milk in the other as he strides over to you.

“Hi,” you say sheepishly, smiling up at him. He’s in his beater and his jeans and that leather jacket that hugs him just the right way. You try not to think about how good he looks as he places the plate and the glass down on the coffee table in front of you. Friends don’t think about friends like that, and that’s all you two are: friends.

“Thought you might want a snack,” he mumbles, pointing to the cookies. “And maybe someone to talk to. You’ve got that look on your face.”

You roll your eyes, staring at him incredulously. “What look?”

“That sleepy, stressed face you make,” he starts, walking around the coffee table and taking the spot on the couch right next to you. “When you’re listening to everyone, making sure they’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” you say, reaching for a cookie. Logan sits up and grabs the glass of milk, extending it out to you. “Really, I am,” you promise, but you know he can tell that you’re lying.

You take the glass from him, and his hand falls to your thigh. The feeling of his skin against yours is intoxicating. He works his jaw and opens his mouth. “What’s going on—”

“Logan?” Storm cuts him off, standing in the doorway. Her gaze is focused on Logan’s hand resting on your thigh. “Did you make tea?”

His eyes flicker between you and Storm. You tilt your head, waiting for his response. “Yes,” he answers, his hand lifting from your thigh as he stands. The spot is suddenly cold. You want to grab his hand and yank him back down.

“Well, the water is about to boil,” she says, smirking as the kettle begins to whistle.

Logan mutters a quick shit under his breath as he prowls out of the living room and down the hall to the kitchen. Storm giggles as she watches him, shaking her head. She squints at the cookies and milk, and then at you. You nervously place the milk back down on the coffee table.

“Wow,” is all she says, her arms crossing her chest as she leans against the frame of the doorway. You can hear Logan shuffling around the kitchen, closing cabinets and cursing. “All this for you, huh?”

Your jaw drops just a bit at her words, their meaning instantly smacking you in the face. “O-oh, no,” you stutter defensively. “It’s not like that.”

The conversation quickly ends as Logan walks into the living room with a cup of tea, passing Storm and heading to the couch. He sits down next to you and places the tea in front of you. The tag of the tea bag hangs over the side of the mug, steam wafting off the top.

“You like tea, right?” He asks as you lean over and grab the warm mug in your hands. The heat feels good, but not as good as when his hand was on your thigh.

You nod, swallowing those feelings down as you blow into the cup to cool the hot liquid inside. “Thanks, Logan.” You smile, and he smiles back.

Storm is still in the doorway, a soft laugh stuck in her throat. “I’ll leave you two alone.” And before you can protest, she’s gone, her heels clicking down the hardwood floors of the hallway.

Alone now with Logan, you can’t help but feel nervous. You bring the mug to your lips and finally take a sip, the hot tea dripping down your throat. Was Storm right? No. This is just a friend looking out for a friend. There’s no deeper meaning. So what if Logan brought you cookies and milk? So what if he made tea for you? He’s just being nice, kind, caring. That’s what he always is…to you at least. Maybe only to you—

“Hey, everything okay?” Logan’s voice yanks you back to reality, his palm suddenly warm on your thigh again. You jump at the sensation, accidentally spilling tea on Logan’s hand and all over your thighs.

“Shit,” you mutter, the liquid stinging just a bit against your bare skin. “I’m so sorry,” you say, placing the cup down on the coffee table. When you look back up, Logan is gone. You can hear scuffling in the kitchen again, drawers opening and slamming closed.

“What the fuck are you doing, Logan?” Scott’s voice chastises in the distance.

Logan scoffs, his footsteps echoing against the tile floors. “Fuck off, Summers,” he chides, and you can’t help but laugh at their bickering.

“Think that’s funny?” Logan teases, suddenly in front of you. He rushes over, kneeling next to you. He has a towel in his hand. “You okay?” He asks. “Anything hurt?”

You shake your head from side to side. “Nope, all good,” you say, grinning, ready for him to pass you the towel. But he doesn’t—he’s cleaning you up himself.

He rubs the towel gently across your thighs, sopping up all the tea. His touch is soft and careful. You can feel heat rise to your chest at the closeness—the intimacy of it all. You take a deep breath, struggling to calm your heart as he takes his time taking care of you.

“You sure you’re alright?” He whispers, his eyes suddenly searching yours. The towel hikes up a bit further, the tip brushing against the hem of your shorts. You’re dizzied by his touch, by the comforting way he smiles up at you as he lets the towel fall to the side. Both of his hands are on you now, one on each thigh. His thumbs brush soft shapes into your skin.

Just friends, you say to yourself. Just friends just friends just—

“Hey gu—oh,” Bobby stutters, standing in the doorway with Peter. “S-sorry to interrupt. We didn’t mean to—”

“What do you two want?” Logan cuts him off, his hands slipping off your thighs as he stands to face the boys. You can hear the gruff annoyance in this voice. “No privacy in this goddamn mansion,” he mutters under his breath so low you almost don’t hear it.

“Charles told us to come get you, Logan,” Bobby continues nervously. “He has to talk to you about something.”

Logan groans, irritated as ever. “Fine. Tell him I’ll be there in a second.”

Bobby and Peter nod, too nervous to say anything else, and walk away. Logan is still standing in the same spot. You can tell he’s thinking, contemplating something.

“You better go,” you say, cocking your head towards the hall. “Can’t keep the professor waiting,” you joke. You watch as the corner of his mouth twitches up. Your heart squeezes in your chest at the sight of turning his frown into a smile.

He turns his body so that he’s completely facing you. His throat bobs as his hands curl into fists at his sides. He looks like he’s holding back, resisting—but what? You can’t quite tell.

“Logan?” Charles’ voice calls from down the hall.

“I wanna see that plate clean when I get back,” Logan finally says, pointing to the cookies.

You let out a laugh as he walks to the doorway. “Yes sir,” you pledge, hand on your heart. His smile widens, his eyes grazing up and down your body, as if committing your form to his memory. What you’re seeing can’t be right; it has to be an illusion. You almost think he doesn’t want to leave you—can’t leave you. His feet are planted on the ground, his arms tucked against his chest.

He opens his mouth, but the Professor interrupts him before he can get a word in. “Logan!”

Logan steps out of the doorway impatiently, fists still clutched at his side. “Meet me on the lawn in thirty minutes, okay?” he huffs out, walking down the hallway towards Charles’ voice before you can give him an answer. Charles calls him again. “Yeah, yeah, old man. I hear you!”

Thirty minutes. Just thirty minutes. You can—absolutely cannot—wait thirty minutes.

God. You are so lovesick.

Twenty-five minutes later you’re sitting out on the lawn, far away from the mansion, waiting for Logan, popping the last cookie into your mouth.

You lay down on your back, the cold, wet grass sending a shiver down your spine. There’s a light breeze in the air, bending the green blades and the leaves of the trees back and forth. You look up at the stars, imagining just how hot they are, just how bright they can shine.

“You finished the cookies!” Logan’s voice calls from a few feet away. You sit up, watching the shadow of his form make his way over to you. You can see the smile spread across his face as he reaches your slide, crouching down and sitting next to you.

“Of course I did,” you say. He’s looking down at you, his eyes flickering across your face. You want to look away, but you can’t. It’s like he’s got you stuck there—he always does. He is the one thing you can’t resist.

Logan’s shoulder bumps against yours, the sudden warmth reminding you just how cold you are. You shiver, crossing your arms and tucking them into your chest.

You instinctively and involuntarily lean into his touch, searching for warmth. He catches on to what you’re doing before you do. “Cold?” He asks, shuffling a bit in his spot as he lifts his jacket.

“O-oh no it’s okay you don’t—” But then he’s taking off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“Better?” He asks, his arm wrapping around your shoulders too, inviting you to lean into him completely.

“Y-yeah,” You stutter, letting your head rest against his chest. You close your eyes, too nervous to keep them open. His jacket smells like him—pine and tobacco and musk. Every breath you take is intoxicating. He’s everywhere, flooding your senses. It’s overwhelming, but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than with him.

He sighs, his breath fanning against your forehead. “So, what’s the matter?” He asks, tugging you in tighter.

You shake your head, looking up at him. “Nothing,” you say, doing your best to be convincing. “I’m fine.” But you know it’s no use. He can see right through you. It’s like knowing when you’re lying is part of his mutation.

Logan raises his brows. “You’re stressed.” It isn’t a question, it’s a fact. “I could see it before, when we were inside. I can see it when you’re teaching the kids.” He rubs his hand up and down your arm, the feeling almost distracting you from his words. His eyes search yours for the truth, for an answer. “You can talk to me, darlin’. I’m right here.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as those last three words replay in your mind. You swallow your nerves down, searching for the right thing to say.

“What if we’re in danger?” You stumble over the sentence quickly, shooting it out into the air like it’s something you’ve wanted to get rid of for a long time. “What if the stupid war they’re always talking about comes, and we aren’t ready?” You can feel your heart racing, tears brimming behind your eyes.

Logan presses a kiss to your forehead, the warm feeling of his lips unexpected but welcome. “Hey,” he coos, his lips still pressed against your skin. “It’s gonna be okay.”

A tear slides down your cheek. The words come out like vomit, each syllable slipping off your tongue in rapid-fire succession. “But what if it’s not? What if I can’t protect the kids or the team or you for fuck’s sake?” You can’t stop the floodgates—tears flowing freely down your cheeks. You’re speaking between sobs now. “What if they get to us before we can convince them that mutants aren’t something to be wiped out or some disease to be cured? What if—”

Logan’s arms wrap around your body, tugging you against his chest, pulling you as close as possible. “I’m not gonna let that happen,” he murmurs. “We’re going to figure this out. We’re going to be okay.”

“H-how do you know?” You choke, your chest heaving against his. “What if—"

“No more what ifs,” he whispers, his hands rubbing against the leather of the jacket—his jacket—on your back. “No one’s gonna hurt you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Gonna keep you safe, okay?”

“O-okay,” you mutter. “Gonna k-keep you safe, too.”

Logan hums, the bassy timber of his voice filling your ears, calming your mind. “Don’t worry about me,” he pauses, one hand reaching up to the nape of your neck, rubbing circles into the sensitive skin there. “Just let me worry about you.”

“Always gonna worry about you,” you say, not backing down.

You can feel his heart beating against yours. “You don’t have to right now,” he soothes. “Let me take care of you.”

You don’t protest—don’t try to fight him this time. You let him pull you into his lap, let him hold you closer, let him play with the hair at the nape of your neck. You can feel his lips on the crown of your head. He’s so close—closer than he’s ever been before. He feels so good, so firm and solid underneath you, so steadfast and constant. He’s a lifeline, a necessity. A safe place—asylum.

It has always been him that you need, and you’d be a liar to say otherwise.

Logan finally breaks the silence. “What are you thinking about?” He asks. You, you think.

“Me?” What?

“Did I just…” you trail off. “Did I say that out loud?”

“Yeah, you did,” he husks, his hands lowering down your back, slipping under the jacket and your thin t-shirt to the bare skin underneath. His palms are warm, and his touch is tentative, hesitant. “This okay?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, and Logan starts to draw patterns and shapes across your back. “Feels nice.” Your voice is soft and shaky as he explores your skin.

“I’ve been thinking about you too, you know,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. His nails drag across your back. You move your legs to straddle him. “You’re the only thing on my mind, princess.” He presses his forehead to yours as if to show you, to prove to you that he’s telling the truth. You shudder at the words, at the thought. He presses a chaste kiss to your nose, lowering his lips until they’re just centimeters from yours.

The world feels frozen. You’ve long forgotten you’re outside, the breeze cutting across the grass. You’ve forgotten about the stars twinkling above you. They’re nothing—just balls of heat burning out millions of miles away. You’ve forgotten about all the hatred you’re forced to face, all the variables and lives at stake in this stupid war. Your mind is calm. Everything is suddenly nothing.

Everything is him. Logan.

“Logan,” you mumble. It’s a plea, a prayer, a demand. And he knows exactly what you’re asking for as his name hangs in the air between the two of you.

His lips crash down onto yours, tasting you, savoring you. But it isn’t languid or slow—it’s rushed, frantic, starving, as if your world is ending; it very well could be. He’s pushing you down onto the grass, his muscular arms on either side of your head, caging you in underneath him.

“Wanted you this whole time,” he pants in between kisses. “Needed you, couldn’t stop thinking about you. Still can’t.” He pushes the jacket open with one of his hands and hitches your shirt up. He lowers himself onto his forearm as his nails drag up your stomach, settling just under your ribs. He spreads his palm, feeling the expanse of your skin, tracing your curves and the dips of your body.

“F-fuck,” you stutter, arching your back off the grass and into his chest, offering more of yourself to him.

He bites your lower lip and kisses the pain away. “You gonna let me take you right here?” He growls, his fingers playing with the hem of your bra. “Gonna let me fuck you outside, pretty girl?”

“Yes,” you whine, lifting your hips against his, feeling his erection straining in his jeans. “Need you, Lo.”

He curses under his breath as he sits up, his hands pawing at the leather jacket, tearing it from your body and casting it aside. You sit up too, keeping yourself close to him. He’s yanking at the hem of your shirt, lifting it up and over your head. He takes off his beater next, but you don’t get the chance to admire him. Everything is a blur, the throwing of clothes, the way he’s shoving you back down to the grass as his fingers unclasp your bra. The straps fall down your arms, and Logan slips it off the rest of the way.

He pauses, taking you in, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, lowering himself back down over you, balancing on one forearm as his free hand slides up your stomach, over your ribs, finally settling on your chest. He cups your tits, squeezing gently, his thumb brushing over one nipple and then the other.

“Perfect. You’re so goddamn perfect,” he praises, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and then to your chin. He continues his trail down to your jaw, your collarbone, the center of your chest.

He takes a detour, his lips latching onto your nipple and biting lightly, his tongue flicking out and soothing the ache away. He kisses across the valley of your chest, bringing his mouth to the other side. He flits his tongue across your other nipple, and continues his trail down your stomach, peppering innocent kisses as he travels lower and lower.

He stops at the hem of your shorts, looking up at you under hooded eyes. You can see the lust, the desire, the need. “Please,” you whimper. And then he’s hastily unbuttoning and unzipping your shorts, wasting no time as he hooks his fingers into the waistbands of your shorts and panties, yanking them down your legs and throwing them carelessly into the grass.

Logan pushes your thighs open. “Keep your legs spread for me, sweetheart.” You can feel his breath on your clit. “Wanna taste you,” he rasps, kissing your core teasingly. “Wanna feel you come on my tongue.”

And then his tongue is pushing through your folds, lapping at your juices, all the way up to your clit. It’s already too much, your hips lifting off the grass. Logan brings his arm across your hips in response, keeping you down. “Stay,” he grunts, his voice vibrating against your heat. “Don’t know where you think you’re going, princess.” He’s looking up at you now. You can see the desperation and the hunger in his eyes.

He's starving for you.

He buries his face back into your cunt, swiping his tongue through your folds again before finally settling on your clit. He latches his lips around the bud, sucking harshly. He flicks his tongue out, drawing sweet, sacrilegious circles against your core.

His free hand climbs up your inner thigh, spreading your legs wider for him. His nails ghost across your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. He finds his way to your folds, spreading your slick, teasing your entrance. You moan his name as he presses your squirming hips down firmly into the ground. “Doing so good for me,” he breathes against your swollen clit. “Such a sweet fucking pussy.”

He sinks two fingers deep into your cunt, humming against you, savoring the taste of you. He pumps in and out, deeper every time. “F-fuck Lo,” you cry out, your hands grasping the blades of grass beneath you for purchase. “Feels so good.”

Your walls flutter around him, your muscles already contracting as he works you open. “That’s it, princess,” he huffs, his teeth grazing your clit as he sucks, hard. “Can feel you squeezing my fingers, can feel you getting close.”

“S-so close,” you choke out as he fucks his fingers into you. His pace becomes faster, relentless. He laps at you like he’s a man who has never eaten in his life.

“I know, sweetheart,” he soothes. “Come on my tongue, darlin’. Know you can do it.” He’s working you through it, swirling his tongue, flicking your clit, licking thick, hard stripes around the bud. His long fingers scissor inside you, rubbing against your walls deliciously. It’s all too much, but it’s just what you need. “Let go for me, pretty girl.”

You feel your walls contract as the fire in your belly spills. You chant his name—Logan. It’s a prayer—no—a promise. It hangs in the air as you come undone underneath him. His fingers pump in and out of you slowly, helping you ride out your orgasm. He carefully pulls out after a few more thrusts, but his face is still buried in your cunt, still lapping at your swollen, overstimulated clit.

“Lo,” you whimper, looking down at him. He looks up at you, his tongue licking one long stripe before he stops completely.

He presses a chaste kiss to your clit as he sits up and unbuckles his belt. “Gonna have to taste that pretty pussy again later, yeah?” He throws his belt to the side and unbuttons his jeans. He slides the zipper down, too, and hooks his fingers inside his jeans, shoving the denim and his boxers down his legs in one quick movement.

You can make out just how big he is in the moonlight. You swallow at the size of him. He lowers down onto you again, resting on his forearm, guiding his cock towards your entrance.

He captures your lips in a kiss as he nudges against you, teasing you, spreading your folds open for him. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” he coos, kissing you again. “Gonna make you feel good.”

You wrap your arms around his back, bringing his chest flush to yours. “Need you, Logan. Need you inside me.”

“I know,” he whispers, nudging teasingly against you again. “I know.”

And then he’s shoving himself deep inside you, filling you up. You can feel his cock twitching, throbbing, searching for more of you. He pulls all the way out and buries himself back down to the hilt.

“F-fuck,” you curse, your nails digging into his shoulders, searching for support. “It’s s-so much. So big.”

He presses his forehead to yours. “I’ve got you, pretty girl,” he husks, setting a slow, easy pace, letting you adjust to the size of him. “Taking me so good.” He’s working you open with every pump, his cock rubbing against your walls and stretching you out.

Logan brings his free hand between your bodies to your still-swollen clit, stroking gently as he plunges deeper into you, hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You moan his name, your chest coming flush with his as you arch your back. The contact feels so nice—just what you needed. He’s fucking you out, pounding into you over and over again.

He's erasing every fear, every bad dream, every horrible vision you’ve ever had. It’s what he does to you. It’s just him—Logan—always has been and always will be.

“Such a good girl,” he grunts. “Letting me fuck you out here.” His hips snap against yours—building his pace, growing faster and deeper as he thrusts into you. You can feel yourself growing closer, crumbling underneath him. You can’t last much longer, your walls fluttering around him, squeezing him tightly.

He moans your name into your mouth, his tongue sliding across your bottom lip, tasting you. “You feel so good, pretty girl,” he groans, rocking into you. “So soft, so tight. Know you’re close.” He flicks your clit, and then circles roughly. “Wanna feel you come on my cock.”

“G-gonna…” You trail off, a bumbling mess, unable to finish your sentence as Logan fucks into you.

“I know, pretty girl,” He soothes. “I’m right here, I’ve got you. Come for me.”

You can’t hold back anymore. You can feel yourself letting go, your walls fluttering around him, taking him deeper, holding him tighter. Your orgasm washes over you, like sun stretching across your skin, like a fire spreading in a forest. It’s all too much, too good.

Logan isn’t far behind. You can feel his cock twitching deep inside you, his pace faltering, his thrusts becoming sloppier. His fingers leave your clit and travel up your body. His hand slides to the back of your neck, holding you gently as he pumps into you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Wanna come inside you, pretty girl,” he moans, pulling you closer, taking you deeper.

You nod against his forehead. “P-please,” you stutter, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Don’t want you to leave yet.”

“F-fuck,” he growls, your words sending him over the edge as he spills inside you, filling you up. “You’ve idea,” he chokes, “how long I’ve fucking wanted you.” His thrusts slow as he rides out his orgasm, pumping in and out a few more times before pulling out of you.

He doesn’t break contact—doesn’t rush to get changed. He rolls onto his back and pulls you with him so that your head rests on his chest, your body tucked tightly into his. You can hear his heart beating deep inside—hear his shaky breaths become more stable. The air is no longer cold—the breeze a welcome contrast to the hot summer night air.

Your legs tangle together. Somewhere in the distance birds sing. A branch creaks. The wind whisks through the grass. You close your eyes and listen. The calm before the storm. This peace can’t last.

“Lo?” You call, breaking the silence.

He kisses the crown of your head. “I’m right here.”

“I know, but—”

It’s like he can read your mind. “I’m not going anywhere. No one is.” He tightens his arms around you, pulling you closer.

“I’m just scared to lose you, to lose all this.”

Logan presses another kiss to your head. “I know,” he murmurs. “But I’ve got you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you. I promise.”

Nothing’s gonna take you from my side.

#Logan Howlett x reader #Wolverine x reader #James Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett x reader smut #Wolverine x reader smut #James Logan Howlett x reader smut #Logan Howlett smut #Wolverine smut #James Logan Howlett smut #Logan Howlett imagine #Wolverine imagine #James Logan Howlett imagine #Logan Howlett x you #Wolverine x you #James Logan Howlett x you #Logan Howlett x you smut #Wolverine x you smut #James Logan Howlett x you smut

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lxnarphase · 7 months ago

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━━ ❝ GOOD MORNING, BABY !! ❞

☾₊‧⁺...ft. : g. satoru + g. suguru + n. kento + f. toji + k. choso + t. fumihiko

☾₊‧⁺...cw : somnophilia (pre-agreed on), thigh fucking, penetrative sex, pre-established relationship, dirty talk, praise and degradation, mommy kink, breeding kink, satoru and toji are just filthy, choso is so cute and needy, kento is the sweetest husband, it's just really fucking dirty im not sorry

☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : which jjk characters would fuck your thighs while you're sleeping bc they're horny but don't wanna wake you up !!

who does it to tease you ↴

✧ g. satoru ; satoru tries to wake you up, but you just don't want to. and by try, he means he blew into your ear just for you to huff and smack him away, grumbling to let you sleep or you'd bite him. ohh, you are so cute, he just really can't help himself

“look at my pretty girl, such a mess…tsk, wish she'd wake up, now i gotta fuck her soft, pretty thighs instead of that pretty lil' pussy." “aww, your pussy 's so noisy! listen t' her...she's all wet, she's cryin' f'me to fuck her, isn't she? aww, poor thing...” “ooh, are you cumming, baby? cumming in your sleep like a slutty little girl while I fuck your thighs, so precious…”

✧ g. suguru ; suguru's hands move up and down your soft curves while he grinds against your thighs, quiet, sticky noises sounding in the room. you're so adorable, he wants to shake you awake but teasing you with his thick cock nudging against your clit is so much more fun

“you’ve always been so responsive, i didn’t think my dick between your thighs would get you like this, princess.” “oh? was that my name? don’t tell me you’re having a wet dream about me. so dirty, baby, thinking of me like that while sleeping when I’m right here with you.” “don’t you wanna wake up and move my cock somewhere other than your thighs? c'mon, princess, wake up for me.”

who does it because they are desperate ↴

✧ k. choso ; not outright fucking you is painful, but he doesn’t want to wake you up. He’s so fucking hard, that dream affected him more than he thought, and before he knew it, he was fucking your thighs, not caring how loud he was being.

“baby, baby, fuck, hoohmygodd, please! need y'so bad, so fuckin' soft, so soft, fuck, could d' this to you all the time, never wanna stop, p-please, god, 'm gonna cum all over you-!” “sticky fuckin' p-pussy's beggin' me t' fuck it, b-but wanna see you look at me. c'mon, c-c'monnn, please wake up, let me stick it in, o-or 'm gonna waste it a-and cum all over your cunt.” “oh, mmh, ’m cumming, ’m cumming, baby, i-i’ll clean y' up after, g'nna fuck you again 'n' again 'n' againnn, fuck, ’m cumming-!”

✧ t. fumihiko ; poor thing, fumihiko honestly tries to deal with it by himself, trying to just jerk off in the bathroom, but it doesn't work. he knew what he needed, he needed you, needed to touch and feel you around him. with shaky hands holding your thighs, he slides his aching cock between your thighs, moaning so cutely…and when you wake up and start cooing to him, he absolutely loses himself.

“i’m-i’m gonna mess you up so bad, been wantin’ to leave you a mess for so long, so fucking long, 'm g-gonna cum all over your pretty thighs. 's okay, right? right? mmh, okay, 'm gonna do it, 'm gonna cum on 'em.” “y-yeah, yeah, fuck, your thighs are so soft, feel so good around my cock, gonna cum all over them, m-ma'am.” “'s so much cum, i can’t stop cumming, m-mommy, ’m losing my mind, love your thighs, they're so soft, s' soft, thank you, thank you, thank you-!”

who wakes you up ↴

✧ f. toji ; it’s not uncommon for toji to wake up in the middle of the night, cock hard in his sweats. can you blame the guy when he's sleeping next to the sexiest woman he's ever laid his eyes on. he thanks whatever god there is for giving him a wife like you who lets him fuck your soft thighs until you wake up up so he can stuff you full of cum instead of wasting it on your stomach.

“’s time to wake up, mama, don’ ya wan' me t' fuck your needy cunt 'stead of these pretty thighs?” “aw, y'look soooo cute and dumb right now…my pretty thing. c'mon, spread those legs for me, mama, toji's gonna take care of ya.” “did y' dream 'bout me fucking your thighs? yeah? mm, you’re takin' my cock like you wanted me t' fuck you awake…hm? you want that next time? mm, i’ll keep it in mind, baby girl, now shut up and let me fuck you dumb.”

✧ n. kento ; he usually only does this when he’s very very frustrated from working, coming home to see his pretty baby in one of his button-ups sleeping, thighs out in the open. he can’t help himself, softly calling your name as he slides his hard cock slowly in and out between your thighs, giving you soft smile when you wake up.

“sorry to wake you, darling, I know it’s late, but I need you. you just...look so beautiful, i couldn't help himself.” “you were responding so cutely in your sleep…would you rather I be inside you? ask nicely, honey, and I’ll give you what you want. you know a good husband does whatever his wife asks.” “so, so pretty like this, i could fuck you for days. should i do that, my sweet girl? mm, maybe i should take tomorrow off and keep you in bed all take, make sure that my seed takes. what do you think, sweetheart, you want me to give you a baby?”

#gojo satoru smut #geto suguru smut #choso smut #kamo choso smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji smut #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #takaba fumihiko smut #takaba fumihiko x reader #takaba x reader #erm !! what the scallop !!#˗ˏˋ ★ lxnarworks .ᐟ

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caotictimmy · 1 month ago

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🍏- ANON? MAYBE??? it's so late for me but reading your nsfw on Daisuke...UAAAGHHH SAAGHHH 🗣️ he's such a vocal man and the whole morning sex thing where he can't get into you quick enough .helpop helppp meeeee helpppp

(maybe this is a request? Maybe I'm just yapping lowkey??? But if you want to write on this, by all means go for it LMAO)

Giggling over Swansea being mortified while walking in on reader x daisuke getting it on, I imagine they don't notice him and Daisuke is getting all needy trying to keep his pace 🤞 That boy has never felt the touch of person romantically so I could onllllyyyy assume that he'd been sensitive his first time. Or like. Every time with reader- especially if they're still on the ship. He's trying to not make too much noise as everyone is asleep ☹️ his whiney ass is NOT making it through that night. Bonus if reader is nonchalant about it the next day at lunch. They're talking with someone about their poor love lives (finding people to stay with how long their jobs shipments are)- reader dropping shit like 'aw man yeah. if only there was someone to really understand me, y'know?'. As if Daisuke wasn't memorizing their insides and how they physically react to him with his body just last night 😭

HELP 🍏 ANON THIS MADE ME LAUGH SO HARD I ALMOST FELL OFF MY BED. But this is Acually so smart. I always believe Daisuke gets lost in the sauce when you guys have sex. For the headcanon I was thinking they were known dating. But for this let’s pretend the crew doesn’t know Daisuke and reader are dating. The first kind middle part will be NSFW. But the rest should be NSFW. This will be done as a one shot. (I’ll also include your little bonus! Plus a little more:3)

What was that god damn noise..? Swansea thought. Irradiated as he heard a squeaking sound, an indescribable muffled sound coming along with it. For fucks sake he just wanted to get some rest! But those loud noises would not let the poor man drift to sleep. He was gonna put a stop to that noise. Once and for all.

Swansea swings his legs over the side of his bed, sitting up. Stretching his arms as he gets ready to investigate what the noise is, and where it’s coming from. He stands up, his back making a loud crack.( I love old man Swansea). He slips his slippers on. Grabbing and putting on his robe by the door. Slowly pushing the door open. Before silently shutting the door. The noise got louder. Even though the walls were paper thin. It still muffled some of the noise.

He tread carefully through the halls. Getting closer to the noise. Swansea could hear talking maybe? The squeaking of something getting louder the more he approaches. Wait. He’s getting closer to Daisuke’s room..? What the hell was that kid doing. He could hear a faint panting? He started walking a bit faster.

Daisuke’s door was cracked open. God was the kid hurt-. Oh… Oh dear god.. For the love of pony express why did he have to be the one to catch this scene. He could now clearly see what was happening now. God why him..? (Warning for what’s ahead will be NSFW)

“Nyyhhh… F-fuck you feel so good. G-god so good. Am I doing good? Mhm!.. a-am I doing good for you. Wanna make sure your feeling as ..ahh ~… as good as I am.” Daisuke whimpered out. His arms wrapped around your waist as he continues going his rough pace.

“Yes! O-oh fuck hah… doing so good for me!”, Your voice muffled as you were face first in your pillow. Daisuke’s body pressing against your back. Like he was trying to mold his body with you. A loud ‘plap’ sound being able to be heard.

Swansea felt his face contort in horror. He could feel his stomach twist in disgust. He definitely walked in on something he definitely shouldn’t have. So what did he do. He went back to his room. Staring at the ceiling with that petrified face still stuck on his face. To say he wasn’t able to sleep that night would be an understatement

“I feel like it’s impossible to date anyone with this crappy job.” Anya huffed in a frustrated tone. “I second to that.”, Curly sighed as he ate his crappy lunch.” Our shipments at a Minimum are 5 months! And it’s like we get a month or two back on earth, before they send us back to ship something!” Anya finished. The annoyed look on her face quite prominent.

“I get you Anya. I want to Acually spend time with someone and let them get to know me. But you can’t really do that on this floating rock.”, You said nonchalantly. You sure were letting Daisuke get to know you. All of you… Swansea thought. Trying not to gag at the imagie of what he witnessed last night.

You could feel Daisuke’s eyes turn to you. Lingering a bit longer than ‘just friends’. “Yeah man, it’s such a bummer!” Daisuke said. A light blush spread across his face as he said it. No one else except Swansea noticed.

“Say uh..” Anya started, looking up at you. “I saw you walking in here with a limp, you good?” She asked,her voice laced with concern. God why did you have to ask that Anya! Swansea cringed at her question. “Oh yea no I’m good! Just hit my leg on the wall while sleeping y’know.” You said. Hmh.. I’m sure you were doing some sort of sleeping. Swansea hurrying to finish his food. Quickly getting up to put his plate in the sink and immediately start work. He really just wants to take his mind off this..

“Swan-sea!” Daisuke said, dragging the two parts of Swansea’s name out. Swansea ignored Daisuke, continuing to work on the broken vent. “Dude did I do something wrong?” Swansea sighed. Since Daisuke wanted the truth he’ll get it.”For fucks sake Daisuke! Can you have them stop fucking like rabbits! I know you young people have your urges, but this has been going on for the past week. And it’s Saturday for crying out loud!” Swansea yelled.

“AND IF YOU FREAKS ARE GONNA KEEP GOING AT IT. AT LEAST KEEP THE DOOR SHUT AND BE QUIET. SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP.” Swansea finished, catching his breath. Daisuke just stood there stunned.

“You.. you heard us..?” Daisuke asked, his mouth agape and his eyes shot wide. “I didn’t just hear you guys. Saw it to! Close the damn door next time!” Swansea said irritated. Daisuke continued to stand there embarrassed. “Swansea uh.. I-I’m so sorry I didn’t realize.” Daisuke stuttered out. Still shocked about the revelation.

“Yeah you better be fucking sorry” Swansea muttered. Turning around before pausing. Sighing a bit. “At lest your getting some action in this hell hole. Reminds me of me and my wife.” He said. Before holding his fist out. “I’m only gonna do this once Daisuke.” Swansea said. Daisuke happily returned the fist bump.

“Now get the hell out of my sight for the rest of the day!” Swansea yelled. “Alright swan-sea!” Daisuke said, doing the same long period name thing. Swansea let out an annoyed sigh. At least the kid was happy…

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