#this is like...not done-ignore wash's gross hand

[saebyeoksleftfoot]

HELLO!! I love love love ur fics ><! I was wonderin if u cud do a No-eul x F! Reader where reader's all about gettin the chores done, even tho No-eul's all like 'let me help!' - but reader won't let her!! Until one day reader gets sick, and No-eul's finally gettin to treat her like a princess <3

Let Me Help You.

Pairings: No-eul x F! Reader

Genre: FLUFJJD

Warnings: self-neglect, (fever/fatigue), mild burnout

Trigger Warnings : None (?)

A/N: I was like.. Half asleep while writing this so I'm sorry if it sucks😓 also, is there anyone who wants to be apart of my Taglist?

++ couldnt add dividers once aha8n💔💔 I'm gonna sleep its 5:09am goodnight

(Not profread)

━━━━━━━━━━

The apartment smells like vanilla and warm laundry.

You’ve been scrubbing the counters for twenty minutes now — long after they stopped needing it.

The sponge squeaks quietly under your hand, your knuckles white around the edges. Somewhere behind you, the washing machine beeps. You ignore it.

You’ve already wiped the coffee table, remade the bed, swept the floors at least three times. There’s still dust in the corners. Probably. You’ll get to that next.

You don’t hear her at first. You feel her — a quiet presence hovering in the doorway.

“You missed a spot,”

No-eul says dryly.

You flinch, caught, and glance over your shoulder.

She’s leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed, hoodie slouching off one shoulder like it always does. Her expression is unreadable, but her eyes track you carefully. Closely.

You flash her a tight smile.

“I'm almost done.”

She doesn’t answer. Not right away.

“You’ve said that three times in the last hour.”

You rinse the sponge.

“Because I’m almost done.”

She takes a slow step forward. Not threatening, not exactly, but with that same energy she always carries — the kind that says 'don’t try me, I see right through you.'

“You always clean like this when something’s wrong.”

You snort softly, not meeting her eyes.

“Something is wrong. The grout lines in the bathroom are absolutely disgusting..”

“You cleaned those yesterday.”

“Still gross.”

She exhales through her nose. Not a sigh — just restrained.

You keep moving. Your fingers tremble slightly when you set down the sponge, and you immediately reach for the dishcloth to wipe the already-pristine sink.

No-eul’s voice is quieter now. Almost careful.

“You haven’t eaten today, have you.”

You shrug.

“I had a coffee.”

“Not food.”

You ignore that. Keep wiping.

She steps closer.

“You ever just… like sit down?”

she asks, like it’s not the first time.

“I will. When I’m finished.”

You say it sharper than you meant to. The silence that follows is heavy.

Then:

“You look pale.”

“I’m just tired.”

“Exactly.”

She moves into your peripheral vision. Still not reaching for you. Not yet.

“Look, I know you think I don’t notice stuff,”

she says, more softly now.

“But I notice you. I know when you’re spiraling.”

You close your eyes.

You hate how she says that. Hate that she’s right.

There’s a beat of stillness. You think maybe she’ll let it go.

Then—

“Whoa. Sit down.”

You sway.

Just slightly. But it’s enough.

You reach for the counter and brace yourself. The room shifts under your feet — a slow, lazy tilt like a boat rocking too hard to one side. Your stomach churns. Your forehead beads with sweat. Hot.

“No-eul—”

you try to say.

But she’s already next to you.

“Sit. Down.”

she says again, and this time there’s no room for argument.

She takes your arm, firm but not rough, and gently lowers you into the kitchen chair. Her brows are pinched tight now, her mouth set.

You want to downplay it. Joke it off.

But your hands are shaking.

Your face feels too hot. Your vision’s blurry at the edges.

“Crap,”

she mutters, crouching beside you.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well, I’m worried.”

Her palm presses lightly against your forehead, then your cheek. You lean into it before you can even stop yourself.

She exhales.

“You’re burning up.”

You blink at her.

“I didn’t think it was that bad.”

Her lips twitch — not in amusement, but in disbelief.

“I knew something was off. You always do this — run yourself into the ground before you admit anything’s wrong…”

You lean back against the chair, exhausted.

“…I didn’t want to be a burden,”

you say quietly.

No-eul’s face softens. Really softens. Her eyes drop to the floor for half a second, and when they come back up, there’s something raw and vulnerable sitting just behind them.

“You could never be a burden.”

She stands up, brisk again.

“Stay here. I’m getting water and the thermometer. If you move, I will tie you to that chair.”

You don’t move.

She disappears down the hallway, muttering swears under her breath while you rest your head on the cool edge of the table. You feel stupid. You feel small.

But mostly, you feel… tired. Bone-deep tired. Like all the holding-it-together is catching up at once.

She returns minutes later — water, meds, thermometer, a cold compress slung over one shoulder. The efficiency is absolutely ridiculous. No-eul in problem-solving mode is a force of nature.

You smile weakly.

“You look like a nurse from a zombie movie. I watched last week...”

“If you die from over-cleaning, I will tell people that’s how it happened.”

You laugh once, hoarse.

She hands you the water and pill first. Watches you take them like a hawk. Then the thermometer — you hold it under your tongue in silence.

When it beeps, she checks it.

Frowns instantly.

“You’re going to bed.”

“I can walk—”

“Nope.”

She’s already helping you up — carefully, her hands gentle but stubborn. She keeps one arm around your waist as she guides you down the hall like you’re made of glass.

When she gets you to the bed, she tucks you in like it’s muscle memory. Blankets fluffed up. Compress on your forehead. Water on the nightstand.

Then — only then — she sits beside you, hands folded, watching you settle.

You blink at her. “…You’re staying?”

She rolls her eyes like it’s obvious. But her voice is soft.

“Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t sneak off to vacuum.."

𝗘𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗦𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲

Ever since you got sick, No-eul’s been haunting the apartment like a particularly judgmental ghost.

You try to get up once — just to move to the couch. Honest.

She appears in the doorway like a horror movie villain.

“Where are you going.”

“…The living room?”

“You’re contagious.”

“You literally just kissed my forehead twenty minutes ago.”

“That was before you tried to escape quarantine.”

You sigh.

She narrows her eyes.

“Sit down.”

You do. Mostly because standing made the room spin again.

She vanishes into the kitchen.

You hear cupboards opening, a clatter of plates. Then something crashes. She swears.

Eventually she returns with a small tray. On it: a bowl of Guk, sliced banana,, one piece of bread, and a mug of something floral that smells like honey and lemon.

She sets it down on the nightstand without a word.

“…You made that?”

She shrugs like it’s nothing, but her ears are a little red.

“Eat.”

“I don’t really—”

She sits down beside you with a sigh. Scoops up a spoonful. Blows on it.

“You’re kidding,”

you say, blinking.

“You’re going to spoon-feed me?”

“Yeah. Since you’ve suddenly become useless.”

Your jaw drops.

She waits. Calm. Like she has all day.

Eventually, you open your mouth, mostly out of disbelief.

She feeds you, one careful spoonful at a time. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

When you try to reach for the bowl yourself, she just tuts and swats your hand away.

“I said sit down, not help me clean dishes with your germs.”

Later, when you try to get up again — this time to rinse your cup — she blocks the doorway with her entire body.

“No.”

“No?”

“No dishes. No standing. No arguing.”

You stare at her.

“You’re a tyrant.”

“Yep.”

“…A hot tyrant.”

That gets her. The corners of her mouth twitch.

But she stays firm.

Later on, when you’re finally curled on the couch, tucked under two blankets, she plops beside you, remote in hand. Her arm slips behind your back.

“I’m serious,”

she murmurs, voice suddenly low.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

You lean into her. Slowly. Carefully. Your body aches, but being near her makes it hurt a little less.

“…You’re warm.”

“I’m No-eul,”

she mutters.

You snort.

She tucks you closer. Presses her lips to your temple, feather-light.

“I’m staying here,”

she says, like a promise.

And you believe her.

━━━━━━━━━━

✧- Taglist : @niijiros @itzzzzzzyyyyydaaaaa @lostlikesaebyeok

[10byten]

where the day gets softer-

★genre : just a fluffy moment between you and this guy you adore more than anything. ★words : 1k

Your day has been long. The kind of long that sinks into your bones, makes your limbs heavy, makes your brain static. You drop onto your bed the second you step into your room, staring at the ceiling, feeling nothing and everything at once. Moving? Not an option. Thinking? Barely. You just wish you could skip ahead—to the part where you’re clean, wrapped up in blankets, and today is nothing but a blur in your memory.

Your phone buzzes. You ignore it. It buzzes again. You groan, blindly reaching for it, glancing at the screen.

Mark.

Your lips twitch into something close to a smile. Suddenly, you have the strength to lift yourself up on your elbows.

Markie - Hey, babe. You done with classes? Wanna see me for a quick kiss?

Yes. A million times yes.

Your reply is instant, desperate in the way you don’t even try to hide. The thought of seeing him makes something in your chest untangle, makes your ribs feel a little less tight. You sit up, glancing around your room, half-heartedly straightening things up. You should shower before he gets here, at least try to make yourself presentable—

The doorbell rings. Not even ten minutes later.

“Shit.”

You roll your eyes at yourself, but honestly? You’re not mad. You’re already moving, already reaching for the door, already smiling before you even open it.

And there he is.

Messy brown hair. Ridiculously pretty eyes. That smile—the one that always makes your stomach feel like it’s folding in on itself. He steps inside without a word, without hesitation, arms slipping around your waist, body fitting against yours like it was made to. A kiss on your forehead, soft, lingering.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

You exhale against his chest, sinking into him.

“Hi,” you mumble against his chest, breathing him in. Suddenly, today doesn’t feel so bad anymore.

“You got here so fast.” You pull back just enough to look at him. “Were you nearby?”

“Mhm. And I was kind of excited to see you, so I didn’t waste time.” His fingers slide through yours, effortlessly, like second nature. Leading you toward your room, toward the quiet comfort of your space. “Should I have given you more time?”

“No, it’s just—” You hesitate. “I thought I’d have time to shower before you got here. I feel gross. I wanted to look cute for you.”

His head tilts. Something amused, something fond in the way he looks at you.

“That’s an easy fix.”

Before you can ask what he means, he’s steering you toward the bathroom.

You blink. “Wait—”

“If you need a shower, let’s shower.” His voice is soft, but firm, like he’s stating the most obvious thing in the world. “I love being clean. And I love seeing you naked. This is a win for me.”

“You’re impossible—”

You don’t finish, because his lips are on yours, and your brain goes quiet.

It’s slow, unhurried, his hands moving with the kind of gentleness that makes your heart ache. He pulls your shirt over your head, unbuttons your jeans, sliding them off inch by inch. Every movement deliberate. Worshipful. And then his own clothes hit the floor, and the warmth of his skin against yours makes your breath hitch.

The water turns on.

He watches you with something close to amusement as you shiver at the warmth seeping in, presses a dozen tiny kisses across your face, like he’s mapping you out.

“So,” he murmurs, “how was your day?”

You huff, tilting your head up to look at him. “Not great. Until now.”

“On a scale of 1 to 10?”

You pretend to think about it. “Before you texted me? A 3. After your text? A 7. Once you got here? 8. In the shower? 9.”

He hums, pleased. “Excellent. That means I’m doing my job right.” Then, lower, softer—“Turn around.”

You do, closing your eyes, waiting.

For a second, his hands disappear. Your brows knit together. But then—

The scent of your body wash.

The warmth of his palms returning, slow and deliberate, moving over your skin in soft circles.

And just like that, the weight of the day dissolves.

“Mark…”

“Shhh,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your shoulder. “Let me take care of you. It’ll feel nice.”

And it does. God, it does. You let yourself sink into it. Let yourself exist here, in this moment, where everything is warm and quiet and safe. He rinses you just as carefully, and by the time the water shuts off, you feel boneless.

Then—softness. Warmth. He’s wrapping you in a towel, his hands impossibly gentle. You grip his shoulders, barely thinking, just following. He leads you back to your room, and you let him.

You sit on the bed, half in a daze, watching as he kneels in front of you, rummages through your drawer like it’s his own. He pulls out a pair of underwear, slides it up your legs, his touch featherlight.

“I can do that myself, you know.”

“I know.” He presses a kiss to your knee. “But you need someone to take care of you tonight. Let me.”

He smooths the fabric into place, then smirks. “Though, I usually prefer taking these off of you.” A wink.

You laugh, breathless, fingers sliding into his hair.

“And now?” His voice is quieter, lower. Eyes locked onto yours.

“10/10.”

The smile he gives you is something secret, something warm, something that makes your chest ache.

He smiles, pulling you down into bed with him, tucking you against his chest. His arms wrap around you, warm and steady, and you think—this. This is the safest place in the world. You could stay like this forever, feeling his breath against your neck, letting the rest of the world fade away.

And in this moment, you know. You’ll cherish this. This little pocket of happiness, this unexpected ending to an otherwise forgettable day.

“And now?” he whispers against your ear.

You smile, eyes fluttering shut.

“20/10.”

He kisses your temple.

And just like that, you fall asleep. Wrapped in warmth, in safety, in love.

Mark will always be your safe place. And nights like this always remind you why.

“Goodnight, babe.”

Your last thought before sleep takes you is simple.

You are loved. You are cherished. You are home.

-

[machveil]

König who acts like an old man - and it’s hard to ignore when you live with him. König is used to waking up early from his time at KorTac, and unfortunately you’ll know when he wakes up. coughing, loud, apartment shaking coughing as he clears his throat, stumbling his way to the bathroom before the suns up. some days you can sleep through it, most you just groan and bury your face in your pillow

König who sneezes so fucking hard - it’s gross. it’s especially bad when he’s wearing his hood around the apartment and sneezes into it. you can hear him sniffle afterwards, snotty and loud as he reaches for a tissue. I’m actually so sorry for telling you that, it’s just so true to me even though it’s so gross, but he’s human. sometimes he just outright refuses to use a tissue and complains later when his throat is raw from sniffling

König who disappears into the bathroom for… way too long. you can hear him shuffle about behind the door sometimes but overall he’s completely silent. he’s in there just enjoying some alone time, moving about - cleaning up his stubble, trimming his nails, sometimes he just looks into the mirror lost in thought for a moment. one time you caught him trying to wash his hood in the sink with hand soap… it was promptly thrown into the wash

König who seemingly wears the same fucking pair of cargo pants whenever he’s home. he bought, like, five pairs of the same pants because, “They’re good, Schatz— look, I can carry so many pocket knives.”. he’ll wear them at least twice before washing them. no variation in color, all of them are the same khaki, all of them hugging his thighs a little too much. he folds them himself too, even if you’ve already done it he’ll just redo them. it’s not that you’ve folded them wrong or anything, he just genuinely enjoys folding them, what can I say?

[iliketangerines]

'tis the season

a/n: not my best...but still got some smut so...

pairing: syzoth x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), pussy eating, overstimulation, free use (kinda), biting kink, mating press

you lay around the bed, today is your day to relax, no initiates to train, no meetings to go to, nothing at all, not a single task to be done

and so after you’ve brushed your teeth and washed your face so you don’t feel like a gross mess, you head back to your bedroll and comfortably bury yourself underneath the blanket

it’s been a morning and afternoon of catching up on lost sleep, and you’ve never felt so grateful that you have some free time today

a knock on your door ruins that, and you wonder if they’ll leave if you just ignore them

this time the knock is a bit more frantic, and then there is the call of your name in a familiar voice

you shoot out of bed this time, slamming open the sliding door and wrapping your arms around Syzoth, and you almost topple him over in your excitement

he gives you a tight squeeze back, breath hot on your neck as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, and you laugh excitedly

Syzoth hadn’t been back to the Wu Shi Academy in months, away on important business about building relations between Zaterra and the Outworld Empire

it was perfect that he came back home on a day like this, where you had nothing to do, and you pull back, feeling his hands attempt to tug you back into him

his face looks strained, almost like in pain, and you finally notice just how warm his hands are in yours when they were usually so cold

you bring your hand up to press against his forehead, and it’s hot, not burning, but for him it may as well be

“hey, are you okay, Syzoth?” you want to bring him to the infirmary, get him checked out, but he doesn’t even seem to register your words, eyes hazy as he pushes you further into your room and closes the door shut without even looking back

“Syzoth, maybe we should-mmph!” you’re interrupted as he presses his lips to yours, tongue tasting along the seam of your mouth as his hands grip tightly onto your clothes

he walks you backwards until you fall down on your bed, and you finally start to squirm, breaking out of the initial shock as he kisses down your jawline

“not that this isn’t a warm welcome, but-ah-you, uh, you don’t look so-mmh hah-well.” it’s hard to concentrate on your own words as he starts kissing along your neck, sucking in hickeys and lightly nipping at the sensitive skin

your hands pull down his hood and thread themselves into his hair, and he only moans at the feeling of your hands on his skin, biting into you harshly this time

his tongue immediately goes to lick over the wound, almost as an apology, and he tilts his head upward to finally look at you

“‘m fine, just need you, need you now,” Syzoth practically moans it, and his hips rut into you erratically

even beneath the thick layers of cloth, you can feel how hard he is, and you feel your face burn with heat at how desperate he is just with a few kisses

“okay then, take what you need.” you can barely contain a yelp as Syzoth’s pupils dilate at your words, his hands clawing and ripping off your clothing immediately

he wastes no time in trailing kisses down your body, brief and peckish, impatient almost when usually he took so much time in just teasing and exploring you

this time, he shoulders your thighs open, keeping them spread with his hands as he practically shoves his head forward into your pussy

his tongue laps at your clit before he wraps his lips around it and sucks hard

it makes you whine loudly, the sudden onslaught of pleasure too much, and your hips jerk forward into his face as he continues to play with you, using his tongue to flick the sensitive bud and then rubbing the flat of it against you harshly

Syzoth moans, and you feel one of his arms shift and then two of his thick fingers press against you and then slide into you, stretching you out and collecting the slick on his fingers

“ah, urghhh, please-” you can barely form words, your fingers tugging at his hair hard as his fingers fuck into you hard, curling into your sweet spot to make you see stars

he only moans into your pussy, the vibrations buzzing through your clit and making you let out a high-pitched whimper at the feeling

your arousal drips down his fingers at this point, onto the sheets and splattering against your thighs with how he hard he thrusts his fingers into you

you don’t have any time to warn him as your back arches and you cum on his fingers, a keen ripping from your throat as he sucks on your clit hard, fingers adamantly massaging against your sweet spot

Syzoth doesn’t let up, fucking you through your orgasm, looking up at you through half-lidded eyes as you try and calm down, chest heaving with breath

“wait, wait, i just-ah hnng!” he ignores your protests, tongue persistently licking against your clit as he tugs you through another orgasm

his moans into you only make your mind turn into mush as your thighs squeeze and tremble around his head, unsure of whether to pull him off or bring him closer

you almost slump into the sheets, vision blurry as Syzoth detaches his mouth from your, placing little kisses along the inside of your thigh and then onto your lower stomach before moving up

he nips at your neck with sharp teeth, bringing your legs up with him to rest on his shoulders, and you groan at the stretch in your hamstrings

his hands are rushed as they pull off his pants, just enough to take out his cock and grind against you, groaning out your name loudly as he slides himself in between your folds

with every thrust, the head of his cock catches on your clit, and you whine, overstimulation starting to settle into you as Syzoth chases his own pleasure

it’s a slow moment, him just rutting against you as he makes out with your neck, tongue licking and lapping over every bite mark that he leaves behind on your skin

and then he brings his hips back, just enough to so that his cock catches on your pussy, and then he pushes forward slowly

the stretch makes you choke on a moan, and then a high-pitched whine floods from you as you clench around him

he lets out a grunt but continues to push forward, panting hard into your skin as he finally bottoms out and pushes his pelvis flush to yours

you let out a short whines and moans, unable to articulate much more with how your brain feels scrambled, torn in too many directions

Syzoth thrusts into you shallowly, groaning as your cunt spasms around his thick cock, trying to bring him in deeper

a thread snaps in him as you call out his name, breathless and fucked-out, and he brings his hips back and starts fucking into you, the sound of wet slapping and your moans filling the room

with every snap of his hips, his pelvis grinds and slaps into your clit roughly, sending jolts of pleasure crawling up your spine with each thrust, and when the combined feeling of his cock fucking into you, angled so that the tip bullies into your sweet spot, you can feel your orgasm high-approaching you

it crashes into you, sending your body into a million different fractures, pleasure frying your brain as you moan his name

he doesn’t stop, hips slapping against yours, a deep moan of your name as well as your pussy clenches around him tightly

one of his hands come down to rub at your clit, the rough pads of his fingers quick and rough, and it sends another orgasm slamming into you right after the previous one

your vision goes white, and your hips twitch, trying to get away from the stimulation

Syzoth only groans, his pace stuttering and then his body slamming into yours once more as he cums inside of you, his teeth once more finding the soft flesh of your neck

he breathes heavily through his nose, unwilling to let go of his claim on you until your breathing has evened out and his cum leaks out of you

“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry.” he lets go of your neck, voice quiet and warbled in the quiet of the room as his hands move your thighs down to wrap around his waist

you can barely hear him, everything fuzzy and warm in your body as your orgasms still buzz through you, and you can only let out a small sound

slowly, his cock slips out of you, a small whine at the loss of him, but then he wraps his arms around you, bringing your head into the crook of his neck as he carries you

warm water slowly surrounds your body, his hands on your scalp and washing your hair and then over your body as he washes you of your messes

you come back down to earth, blinking away the haziness and then placing a hand over his as he goes to bring you a towel

“you okay? you didn’t, didn’t look so good earlier.” your voice is still small, but he still hears you and hums an affirmation

“yes, i am okay. it’s just…well,” Syzoth turns his head away in embarrassment, standing up and bringing you a towel to help you dry off, “Zaterrans. they go through.”

he almost cringes at himself, glancing at you then looking away with a flushed face, a stark contrast to how he was earlier

putting your hand on top of his once more, you wait patiently for him to finish his explanation, and he takes a breath

��we, us Zaterrans, go through a breeding cycle, and mine just so happened to come today.” he ends his sentence with a cough, looking away from you

you bark out a laugh, and he whips his head back to you, almost looking offended

“no, no, i’m not laughing at you. it’s just, i thought you were sick or something. i’m glad to hear you’re okay,” the both of you walk back into the bedroom and sink down into the sheets, warm in the barely sunlit room

you cuddle up into him, your back pressed against his chest and his arms wrapped around your shoulders, “well, at least, now it’s over, right?”

“well, no, it varies, but typically, breeding cycles last for a week,” his voice trails off, and you realize you can feel his cock pressing into your lower back

your mouth dries slightly at the thought of him needing you at every possible moment for a week

“i mean, we don’t have to do anything, i’m not, i don’t mean-” he struggles with his words, embarrassed, and you cut him off by turning your head and kissing him

“well, i’m not opposed to the idea…” you give him a coy smile, watching as his pupils dilate at the thought of taking you whenever he wanted to

and then a wide smirk crosses his face as one of his hands trail down, hooking the crook of your knee onto his elbow, and his fingers go to rub against your sore clit

“i’ll take you up on that offer then.” Syzoth presses his lips to yours, moaning into your taste, and you wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into

[cuzxai]

firstly im absolutely obsessed with your writing rn

if you can maybe on where spencer is off on a case and tells reader to be good but he catches her in the act (maybe with a vibrator) and he punishes her with edging or overstim?

feel free to ignore this if you dont feel like writing it regardless have a great day/night xx

consequences - nsfw

spencer reid x afab!reader

a/n: first request, hope you likey

You knew the moment his phone buzzed on the nightstand. The tone was different— short, clipped. The kind they used when something couldn’t wait. Spencer rolled over and checked it with a sleepy groan, rubbing the heel of his hand into one eye.

“Hotch,” he mumbled. His fingers moved across the screen, then he sighed. That was all it took. You were awake now too. He looked over at you, already apologetic. “They need us in Virginia. Four-day consult.”

You didn’t say anything right away. You were used to it. This wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last. But that didn’t mean it ever got easier. You’d just gotten used to adjusting the shape of missing him.

“When do you leave?” you asked, voice still rough from sleep.

“An hour.”

You nodded, blinking up at him. The room was still dim, washed in that early blue light that made everything soft but his features had already started to steel with focus. He was sliding out of bed, grabbing his go-bag from the closet. Efficient. Distant, in that way he got when the case was already unfolding in his head. You watched him pack. Watched him tuck his badge into one pocket, a fresh stack of books into another. Watched the little rituals of departure that had started to sting less over time but never stopped completely.

He came back over when he was done, still in his socks,and leaned over to kiss your forehead. You caught his hand in yours before he could move away. “Be safe.”

“I will,” he promised. “And I’ll text you when we land.”

You nodded. He leaned closer again, brushing your nose with his and letting your hands settle on his chest. You knew he wanted to say more. You felt it in the pause. Instead he just kissed you, warm and lingering then pulled back just enough to look at you.

“Be good for me, okay?”

You smiled faintly. “Always.” The door clicked shut behind him a few minutes later. And then the apartment was quiet. You tried to keep yourself busy that first day. Made a list of errands. Washed the sheets, even though they didn’t really need it. Wore one of his sweatshirts that swallowed you whole and curled up on the couch with a book you weren’t really reading.

You checked your phone too often. Not because he didn’t message— he did. Regularly. Brief updates, a photo of a diner menu he thought was funny, a note about the hotel being gross. But none of it really felt like him. Not the version of him you missed. The one whose fingers threaded through your hair when he passed behind you, who always curled around you like a warm, steady anchor in the middle of the night. By the second day, you were counting the hours.

You weren’t sleeping well. The bed felt too big without his weight on one side. You found yourself reaching for him in the middle of the night, half-asleep, only to be met with cold sheets and nothing else.

You missed his voice. Not through the phone but close—near your ear, low and soft and teasing. You missed the warmth of his hand on the back of your neck when he told you things he didn’t say out loud in front of others. You missed the way he looked at you when you were beneath him, his every nerve tuned to your pleasure. By day three, the ache had settled in. Low. Constant. Not just physical—it was emotional too. A kind of restless wanting that curled beneath your skin like heat. It wasn’t just that you missed being touched. You missed being his. You curled tighter under the blankets that night and tried to will yourself to sleep. Tomorrow, you reminded yourself.

He’ll be home tomorrow. Just one more night is all you had to wait. But you couldn’t. You didn’t mean to give in. Not at first. You’d tried to be good. Really, you had. Spencer had only asked one thing before he left and you’d promised him— half-asleep, half-joking but still—you said you’d behave. But something about tonight felt different.

The air was heavier or maybe that was just you. You hadn’t been able to focus on anything all day, skipping from one task to another like your own skin was too tight. No book could hold your attention, no amount of cleaning or music could chase away the dull, steady ache building low in your belly.

It wasn’t just the physical need—it was the absence of him. The lack of his touch, his voice, his quiet presence in the corner of the room. You missed the safety of him. The way he could look at you and make your whole body respond like it had been rewired just for him. You’d gone to bed early just to escape the feeling. Curled up in one of his T-shirts again, still a little damp from the dryer and buried your face in his pillow. It helped. A little. But the ache was still there.

It throbbed between your thighs like a pulse, constant and maddening. You shifted, trying to find a comfortable position but the soft brush of fabric only made things worse. Your breath caught. Your thighs pressed tighter. And still nothing eased it. You bit your lip and rolled onto your back. The room was dark, lit only by the soft glow of the city filtering through the blinds. For a while, you stared at the ceiling. Then you turned your head to the empty space beside you on the bed. Your hand drifted into your bedside table before you could think better of it.

You found it easily—the small, familiar shape of the vibrator you kept there. Just in case. Not for when Spencer was away but for when he was gone for the long ones. The ones that hurt. But this hurt too, didn’t it? You hesitated, fingers curling around it.

Spencer wouldn’t want you to suffer. He wasn’t cruel. He was gentle. Attentive. He cared about your pleasure—his own pleasure was practically tethered to yours. He got off when you did but it was never about denial for denial’s sake. Still— he’d told you to be good. You swallowed. You turned the toy on, just the lowest setting and slid it between your thighs.

You hissed at the contact—so sharp, so sudden after all that buildup. You’d soaked through your underwear without even realizing it. The vibration was almost too much right away but your body reacted like it had been waiting for this exact moment, already half-undone. You pushed your panties aside and let the toy rest directly against your clit, your hips lifting instinctively. You barely had to move. The pleasure struck you so fast and so deep you gasped, one hand fisting in the sheets. In your mind, it wasn’t your hand. It was his. The toy became his fingers, slow and clever and patient. His mouth, warm and insistent. You imagined him on his knees at the foot of the bed, one hand pressed to your stomach to keep you still, his voice low and pleased. “That’s it. Just like that, baby. Let me hear you.”

A quiet moan slipped from your lips before you could stop it. You bit down on your fist and forced your eyes shut. You didn’t want to hold back. You were already close—too close. The edge was coming fast, your thighs trembling around the toy as your hips rocked harder, chasing it. You needed this. Just this. Just once. The muscles in your stomach started to tighten. You pressed the vibrator harder, arching your back, mouth falling open as your breath hitched. The front door opened. A soft click. Your body froze.

No no no no no. You scrambled to shut off the toy but your hands were shaking and the sound it made as you fumbled with it—that was what gave you away. The telltale, traitorous hum. Still half on. Still slick in your hand.

“Baby?”

His voice. You whipped your head toward the door in horror, breath caught in your throat. Footsteps. You didn’t even have time to throw the toy or bury it in the sheets before the bedroom door creaked open. Spencer stood in the doorway, travel-worn and windblown. His waves were a little messy, jacket still on. But his eyes moved fast. First to you. Then to your hand. Then to the vibrator. Then back up to your face. Silence.

The only sound was your own ragged breathing, the soft whirring of the toy still pulsing faintly in your palm. Spencer arched an eyebrow, and his voice came low. Unmistakably calm. Quiet.

“Did I not tell you to be good?”

Your lips parted but nothing came out. Your heart was still slamming against your ribs, face burning hot as the vibrator finally stilled in your hand. Spencer stepped further into the room, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. You sat up, pulling your knees toward your chest. Your way of trying to hide the evidence even though it was too late.

“I—” you started but his eyes flicked down to your thighs.

He didn’t speak right away. Just looked at you. Like he was studying you. You couldn’t read his expression. It was neutral, quiet, unreadable but there was something simmering under the surface. Something restrained. Spencer shrugged off his jacket and set it neatly on the back of the chair. He didn’t say a word.

“I didn’t think you’d be back tonight,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded slowly, toeing off his shoes. “Clearly.” There was no anger. No raised voice. Just that maddening calm, the kind that made your stomach twist. He stepped closer. You clenched your thighs. You were so suddenly aware of how soaked you still were, how sensitive. You could still feel the phantom vibrations ghosting along your clit. And his eyes caught every detail.

“You said you’d be good,” he murmured, stopping at the edge of the bed. “I believed you.”

“I tried,” you said, your voice a little desperate now. “I did.”

“Tried?” he repeated, arching a brow. “That what this is?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The silence that followed was heavy. Just when you thought he might scold you, he hummed thoughtfully and reached for you. You blinked. His hands closed around your ankles and gently tugged. You didn’t resist— couldn’t really and let him pull you toward the edge of the bed until your legs dangled over, spread just enough for him to settle between them. He sank to his knees. Your breath hitched.

“I should be mad,” he said while tilting his head, hands stroking slowly up your calves. “I told you not to touch yourself, baby. And you promised.”

You nodded, throat tight. “I know. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just leaned in and kissed your inner thigh. It was soft, open-mouthed, dragging his lips over the heated skin until your body shivered. His hands held you firm by the hips, not hurting, but inescapable. Your thighs threatened to close but he nudged them apart again without a word.

“You wanted to come so bad you couldn’t wait for me?”

You swallowed. “Yes.”

A small, quiet laugh left him. Not cruel but just amused. Dark. “I see.” And then without another word he leaned in and licked you. You gasped, fingers clenching in the sheets. His tongue was slow, teasing, not rough or punishing, just deliberate. Focused. Like he had all the time in the world and every intention of taking it. Your hips arched into his mouth and he let you move, his arms looping under your thighs to hold you steady. His tongue circled your clit then dragged down to your entrance, tasting you with reverent hunger.

You whimpered. He hummed low in his throat and the vibration made your whole body jolt. You couldn’t help the moan that slipped from your lips, hands flying to his hair and fingers curling in his curls. He let you pull—encouraged it even but stayed in full control. His pace was agonizing. Every time you started to climb, his tongue slowed. Every time your hips bucked, he held you down. His lips sealed over you and sucked softly, pulling a sharp cry from your throat but he didn’t relent. Not enough. Just enough to keep you at the edge.

“Spence,” you whimpered, breathless. “I’m close—please—”

He didn’t answer. Just kept going. Unbothered, relentless. Like this was his reward, not yours. Like your begging didn’t faze him in the slightest. You were trembling now, thighs shaking, the pressure building to the point of pain. You were so close, could feel the heat coiling tight, ready to snap. And then he pulled away. Your entire body seized with a choked cry. You reached for him on instinct, hips chasing the loss, legs trembling.

“No—no, please—”

Spencer wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood slowly, his eyes dark and steady as he looked down at you.

“Not yet,” he said calmly. “You don’t get to come just because you want to.”

You blinked up at him, breathless, panting. Your skin was flushed and soaked and aching. He leaned down, brushing a kiss over your cheek, lips just barely brushing your ear.

“You wanted to be bad,” he whispered. “Now you get to wait.”

Your thighs were damp and twitching, your chest heaving with shallow breaths and your clit throbbed with the cruel absence of his mouth. You’d been so close. So close you could taste it and now every nerve in your body was screaming from the denial. Spencer stood over you, his hair falling into his face as he looked down at you. His eyes were unreadable but you could see it in the slight twitch of his jaw. He liked seeing you like this. Flushed. Trembling. Wrecked.

“Still worked up?” he asked softly, brushing his fingertips along your inner thigh. You whimpered and nodded.“Hm.” He let that hum sit in the air as he slipped one hand between your legs again, fingers grazing through the mess he’d left behind. You gasped at just the lightest touch and your hips jerked up, desperate.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Made a mess all over yourself, baby.”

You moaned when he circled your entrance, teasing, not even pushing in.

“Did you think I’d come home and find you sweet and innocent? Tucked in, still aching for me like a good girl?”

You swallowed hard, your fingers curling into the sheets. “I—I missed you.”

“I know you missed me,” he said, dragging one finger up your slit, slick and slow. “But I told you to wait. I told you to behave. And instead…” He slid one finger inside you. Your back arched immediately, a helpless cry tearing from your throat. He didn’t give you time to recover. His finger curled inside you, slow and sure, dragging against that spot that made you clench hard around him. You cried out again, hips bucking but he stayed steady— another finger joining the first with no warning.

“Spence—oh my God—” His free hand pressed to your stomach, holding you down firmly.

“That’s better,” he said, voice low. “You’re quiet when you take my fingers. Focused. Needy.”

He started to move them, slow at first. Measured. The stretch was perfect—his fingers always knew exactly where to press, when to curl, how deep to slide. You were already soaked for him and the wet sounds between your legs only made it worse. Made it filthier. Made you needier. You moaned again, louder and he picked up the pace just slightly. Every thrust of his hand drove you closer to the edge, your thighs shaking, toes curling.

“God, please. I’m so close—”

“Don’t care,” he murmured, eyes locked on yours.

He twisted his fingers inside you and you sobbed at the pressure. Your walls were fluttering around him already, your whole body wound tight like a thread about to snap. You reached down and grabbed his wrist, not to stop him but to hold on. Anchor yourself to something. Spencer leaned over you slightly, voice right against your cheek.

“You want something more?”

You nodded frantically.

“I don’t think you do,” he said, curling his fingers again. “You’re dripping all over my hand just from this.”

“I want you,” you gasped, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. “Please—I want you—”

“You have me.”

“No. I want you—your cock. Spence please—”

He stilled his hand. Just for a second.“What was that?”

You whimpered. You were squirming under him, so close it hurt. “I need you inside me. Please, Spence. I’ll be good—please.”

He smiled. There it was. That edge of satisfaction that came when he knew you were saying exactly what he wanted to hear.

“You’re not gonna come on my fingers,” he murmured. You whimpered again but he didn’t budge. Instead, he slipped his fingers out slowly and brought them to his mouth. Sucked them clean like he had all the time in the world. Then he leaned down, pressing his mouth to yours in a kiss that was hungry and deep. Making you taste yourself. Your arousal. When he pulled away, he looked you straight in the eye.

“Roll over,” he said, voice calm and final.

You rolled over so fast your limbs tangled in the sheets. Spencer didn’t laugh but you heard it in his breath. Felt it in the way his hands slid up your hips, grounding you in place. The air was thick and hot around you. Your skin flushed, your thighs still trembling from his fingers. You hadn’t come. But you would. You had to. You heard him move behind you— clothes shifting, belt unbuckling. It felt like forever. The drag of anticipation. The sound of him unzipping. The quiet rustle as he pushed his pants down. Then the weight of him settled behind you, pressing close.

“Look at you,” he murmured, brushing your hair away from your neck. “Lying so still for me now.” You whimpered when you felt his cock nudge between your thighs—thick and hard, sliding through your wetness, unhurried. He didn’t push in. Not yet.

“I haven’t even touched you properly,” he said softly, almost like he was marveling at it. “One taste, a few fingers and you’re already this desperate?”

“Spence…”

“Shh.” His hand slid up your back. Then back down, tracing your spine like he was memorizing the shape of you.

“You’ll come when I say,” he whispered, lining himself up at your entrance. And then he pushed in. You moaned loud and broken, your body stretching around him with aching pressure. He went in all the way on the first stroke, bottoming out with a low groan that buzzed straight through your skin.

“God, baby…” He stayed still for a moment, letting you feel every inch. Your walls clenched around him instinctively, and he hissed through his teeth. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

You couldn’t speak. You were too full, too overwhelmed, too wrecked by everything that came before. Your body shook beneath him, already aching for more. He pulled back. Then thrust in hard. You cried out so loud it echoed in the room and he did it again, slow, then rough, setting a rhythm that made your knees buckle beneath you. He didn’t give you time to adjust. Didn’t give you a second to breathe. Just kept fucking into you with firm, deliberate strokes, the slap of skin against skin growing louder, wetter, filthier. His hand curled around your throat, holding you there and he pulled you up to bring his mouth to your ear.

“Feel that?”

You moaned, nodding frantically.

“That’s what you needed, isn’t it? Not your little toy. This.”

“Yes—yes.”

He grunted softly, his rhythm shifting—slower now, deeper, dragging each thrust until you sobbed. You bit your lip, whimpering, your body already on fire. You could feel it building, hot and coiled and devastating, your orgasm crawling closer with every thrust.

“Please—please—”

His hand slid down your front and found your clit, rubbing in tight, precise circles. You moaned. Your body jerked so hard he had to press a hand to your lower back to keep you from collapsing completely.

“I said not yet.”

You sobbed, every muscle trembling. He kept going. Fucking you deep and slow, pushing you to that edge and keeping you there, his fingers unrelenting on your clit.

“Tell me how bad you want it.”

“Spence! God—please—”

“Say it.”

“I need it. Need to come—please, I can’t wait.”

He kissed your shoulder. “Come for me.”And you shattered. It hit like a wave—violent and hot and all-consuming. Your body clenched around him, trembling uncontrollably as he held you down and fucked you through it, slow and steady, never letting up. Your scream broke into gasps, sobs, your voice cracking with the force of it. You were gone. Lost. Floating. He didn’t stop until your body sagged in his arms, boneless and twitching.

Only then did he ease out of you carefully. You felt the loss instantly. It was empty and aching—but you couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Just whimpered as he kissed your back and rubbed slow circles into your hip. He was still hard. Still very much not finished. But he didn’t say anything about that yet. Instead he leaned close, voice a whisper against your ear. “That’s one.”

Your body was limp. Still trembling. Still twitching. The sheets were tangled around your legs, your cheek pressed into the mattress, slick and flushed and boneless from the orgasm he let you have. Your chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, heart still racing, your thighs weak and slick between them. You couldn’t think. Could barely feel. Just the thrum of pleasure lingering in your bones, the warm heaviness of being used and wanted. But Spencer wasn’t done.

You felt him behind you—still hard, still pressed against your backside, still calm as ever. You tried to speak, to catch your breath but then you felt his hand curl around your hip again.

“Don’t tense,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your spine. “You can take more.”

Your heart skipped.

“Spence, I dunno if I can…”

“You will,” he said, shifting your hips slightly. “You’re still dripping for me.”

You didn’t have time to protest—before he slid back inside you. Your whole body jolted. It wasn’t pain, not really. But it was sharp—intense. A shock of sensation that made your legs flinch and your voice catch in your throat. He groaned softly above you.

“Still so tight,” he breathed. “Still clenching like you want more.”

You moaned, helpless. You were clenching—your body reacting on instinct, even as your brain begged for a break. He didn’t give you one. His pace was slow at first, dragging every inch of him along your still-sensitive walls. You whimpered, every nerve on fire again, every brush of friction setting off sparks.

“Can’t,” you gasped, barely audible. “It’s too much—”

“Yes you can,” he said, thrusting deeper. “Thought you wanted it?”

His hand slid between your legs again. Two fingers found your clit, swollen and soaked and rubbed in tight, steady circles. You cried out. Your whole body arched off the bed as he thrust deep and circled that overstimulated bundle of nerves, giving you no relief. His touch wasn’t fast—it was precise, measured, maddening. Designed to drag every last ounce of pleasure out of you whether you could take it or not.

“Spence—Spence, please—”

“You’re taking it,” he said, panting now. “You’re gonna come again. Right on my cock.”

You couldn’t breathe. He fucked you deeper, faster, pressing harder on your clit, every stroke knocking the breath from your lungs. You were so sensitive but your body betrayed you anyway. You felt it building again, that second high climbing fast, burning hot behind your ribs.

“Tell me,” he growled, his voice shaking now. “Tell me it’s mine.”

“It’s yours,” you choked. “All yours Spence, I’m gonna come. Please—”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t slow down. His cock hit just right, his fingers unrelenting.

“Do it.”

And then you broke again. It hit even harder this time—sharper, deeper. Your vision blurred, your hands clawing at the sheets as your whole body convulsed around him. You screamed his name as your orgasm crashed through you, raw and overwhelming, your cunt clenching so tight around him it dragged a groan from his throat.

He fucked you through it—still deep, still steady—his breathing ragged now, hand braced on your lower back to keep you down as you writhed under him.

You felt him twitch inside you. And then he finally pulled out with a sharp gasp. You barely registered the sound of him stroking himself behind you—just the wet, fast rhythm of his hand and the broken curse that spilled from his mouth as he came. Hot, thick spurts across your lower back, warm and messy, his breath stuttering above you. You didn’t move. Couldn’t. Just lay there, boneless and wrecked, soaked and shaking, your chest pressed to the bed as Spencer caught his breath behind you.

His hand ran down your spine again. Gentle. Soft. “You did so good,” he whispered, kissing your shoulder. “So fucking good for me.”

[itsmarsss]

hunchback of notre-dame [Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Reader] (Marvel)

You get this ridiculous idea that you just need to mark a huge heart into his back.

Word count: 1,945

Warnings: sexual innuendos and jokes all around, mention of logan being a 'free pass' in your relationship lol, wade having a hard time grasping intimacy that isn't of a sexual nature, wade feeling self-conscious and speaking badly of his own appearance. established relationship. so many ridiculous and over-the-top pet names.

kiiinda loosely based off this ask- "Deadpool with s/o who keeps biting him? Not sexually (mostly) but I need to CHOMP this man."

“Please? Please please please please please please? Come onnnn sweetie-pie. Darling-dear. Baby boy. Baby.”

“Oh my God never call me ‘darling-dear’ again, what is this, medieval england?”

“Don’t change the subject!”

“Geez Louise why do you wanna do that so bad? Is it like a biting kink or something?”

“It could be.” You shrug.

“I’m listening.”

You roll your eyes at his reply. “‘Course now you are. I just wanna see how it looks!”

“It’s gonna heal in like two seconds, you know that, right?. I’m not sure it’ll even show.”

“Yeah but get this- what if you tried really really hard to stop it from healing?”

“I… don’t think that’s how it works, pookie-bear,” he tells you, booping your nose along with the ridiculous pet name.

You ignore it. “You don’t know that!”

He stops to think for a couple seconds before letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. This once.”

“Yes! Take your shirt off. And throw it in the wash, how many days have you been wearing it for?”

“Oh, too many to count, sweetheart.” 

“That’s gross, Wade.”

“Hey now, I’m gonna revoke your biting privileges!” He threatens, but proceeds to take the shirt off as and throw it in the hamper anyway.

“Nuh-uh, no take-backsies.”

“Then stop insulting my habits!” He sits down on the bed and you sit yourself on your legs right behind him. 

“What? When have I ever done that?” You feign confusion, kissing his shoulder.

“Now that’s just gaslighting. You’re a gaslighter. A mean, evil, toxic gaslighter and you’re gaslighting me.”

You laugh. “Oh whatever, grown man who needs to be reminded to do his laundry. You ready?”

“No?”

“Why do you even care so much? You get, like, stabbed on the daily.”

“Yeah but this isn’t… stabbing. Stabbing I’m used to.”

“I can stab you if you want me to.”

“Can you really?” 

“If you’re into that,” you play along.

“Oh you know I am, baby. No but that’s not what I meant.”

You kiss his lower back without a warning, and you can’t contain a smile at the way he shivers. “What do you mean, then?”

“This is… different.” He fidgets with his own hands as he talks, eyes trained on them over his own lap.

“What, not every person you’ve ever dated that’s asked to bite a heart into your back?” You continue kissing your way up his back, up until where you want said heart to start.

“Oh no, everyone asks me for that on the reg actually. I’m actually super mega lucky that I heal so fast, otherwise I’d just have to come home with all those hearts on my back all the time and you would not be happy with that would you?”

You punch his shoulder lightly and he smiles. “You bet I wouldn’t! Only I get to do this, you hear me?” You exclaim, feigning offense.

“Wolvie carved a heart into my thigh once. Hottest thing to ever happen to me. No offense.”

“None taken.” You bite the skin of his back right where you’d just kissed before. Not so hard that it’s meant to hurt, it’s not that kind of night, but not as if he’d break either, since, well, he kind of can’t. You suck lightly on the skin to make sure to leave a tiny mark and it’s a little funny to be doing this with no ulterior motives. “Especially since that for sure never happened.”

“It could have.” 

“If Logan ever carves a fucking heart into your thigh and I’m not there to witness it I will be so mad.” 

“Hey I thought we had a free pass with him!”

“Not if I’m not involved! Or at least get to watch.”

“Aye, aye, captain. Anything else you wanna witness between us, sweetcheeks?”

“I’ll tell you when I’m done, how about that?” You grin before resuming your work, biting and sucking on the scarred skin until you can see the aligned marks almost forming the shape you want them to. 

It’s a shock that it gets him to shut up for even just a few seconds, so it’s no surprise that the silence doesn’t last all that long. “This is…  It’s different… It’s… It’s really intimate isn’t it? Like overwhelmingly so. Is it hot in here, are you hot?”

You stop immediately. “Hey. Don’t freak out on me. I know I insisted a little but I didn’t think you were hesitating ‘cause you were uncomfortable. I wouldn’t have-” 

“No- no no no no no, it’s fine. It’s… Nice. It’s silly, but it’s nice. Just different.”

You stare at him until he manages to get himself to look up at you and nod, easing your worries and letting yourself believe him. “Okay. But only if you’re sure. And don’t call me silly!”

“You’re making it really hard, sugartits.”

“Hey!” You flick the back of his head.

“Ow! What was that for? It’s obvious that by ‘it’ I meant my dick. I was dirty talking. Clearly.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You bite into his skin again. He stays still and weirdly quiet once again, eyes closed and still shivering occasionally as you trace kisses along his back before following them with bites and, finally, the main goal- the hickeys. 

“You done?”

“Almost. Missing three.”

“They all still there?”

“They’re fading, but they’re still there. You trying to keep them?”

He shrugs, very obviously trying his hardest to pretend he doesn’t care. “Well you wanted me to, didn’t you?” 

You smile, cupping his jaw with one of your hands and turning his face to the side so you can give him a quick kiss. 

“Almost done,” you promise.

“Do it harder.”

“What?”

“Bite harder.”

“What, is this you saying you have some sort of biting kink?”

“First of all, you should have guessed that. Second of all, no, I just don’t want them to fade so fast.” 

“So someone’s enjoying the idea now.”

“Enjoying is pushing it. Curious is a better-fitting word.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Making the last of the marks, you lean back to admire the work. “Done,” you announce, tracing the shape with the tips of your fingers. 

“Well, can I see it?”

“Yeah.” You pull him to his feet and lead him to the full body mirror in the corner of the room. Turning himself around so his back is facing the mirror, he looks over his shoulder so he can see it too.

“Oh.”

“You don’t like it?”

“I thought it would… you can barely see it with the… you know. The scars.”

“Of course you can see it! Look!” You trace the shape on his skin with your pointer finger for him to see in the reflection.

“You know what I meant.” 

“I- didn’t want it to make you feel bad. It was really silly anyway. You can let it heal if you want to.”

“It’s not- it’s not that. Fuck, I know this was supposed to be this whole funny haha silly cutesy little thing but I just- I don’t even know why you do it.”

“Do what?”

“Put up with it.”

“What exactly?”

“This. It’s not really the best view in town, is it?” There he goes, unable to look you in the eye again.

“Sorry?”

“Like why would you even want to see this? You just spent like ten minutes staring at my back, which frankly looks like I single-handedly brought leprosy back to fashion and then you- just- like even just my face is enough for people to, like, projectile vomit. Why’d you make yourself do this right now?”

“I didn’t make myself do anything. I had to convince you to let me do it´.”

“‘Cause you wanna prove something.”

“What would I wanna prove with something so dumb?”

“I don’t know. That you don’t see me as a monster or something.” 

“I don’t see you as a monster. But I wasn’t trying to prove anything.”

Letting his face fall into his hands, he lets out a frustrated sigh, as if he hadn’t meant for the conversation to come to this. And he probably hadn’t, really, but he already did so much of pretending to be fine all the time. It sucked to see him like this, but at least he was letting himself be real, be honest with you about the way he was feeling. 

You’ve come a long way to gain this kind of trust. 

“Sorry. Ruined the moment. Way to go, Wade!” He apologizes.

“You don’t have to say sorry, you know that by now.” 

He glances at the mirror again and sees all the marks have gone away already, his mind going elsewhere and interrupting the focus he’d been putting into trying to put off the healing of them. He finally turns around to actually face you. “See? Can’t even have this one fucking silly little thing you wanted. It’s gone already cause, guess what, I’m a fucking freak of nature now. Like The Hunchback of Notre-Dame or something. I don’t know, I didn’t watch the movie.” 

You laugh. “Well I’ll just be Esmeralda then.”

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Oh you’d find her so hot, dude. But doesn’t matter.” You walk up to him, kissing him gently from his ear to his jaw to his neck to his lips. “Don’t fucking question why I love you ever again, that’s, like, so rude.”

“Oh that was just so sappy, even for you babe, massive sap vibes all over.”

“Oh shut up you big baby.” You place a last gentle kiss on the palm of his hand. “I have an idea.” You pull yourself away from him, disappearing into the bathroom.

“Yeah? Does it involve pity sex? Cause I’m feeling down and I am ready to pounce if you are and-“ He raises an eyebrow in question when you come back holding up something. “That some new vibrator or something?” 

“Can you wait like ten seconds?” 

“Ten seconds? Babe, you know that’s asking too much of me when I’m this horny. They don’t call me The Flash for nothing.” 

“Who is ‘they’? And what does that even mean?”

“Sorry, wrong franchise. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Huh?”

“Back to the vibrator.”

“It’s lipstick.” You turn to face the mirror, taking your time applying the dark red color to your lips. “Kay, turn around, pretty boy.”

“Oooh, kinky! You gonna gimme a rimjob with that lipstick on?  Wait is that another kink? We are full of surprises today.” He quips, turning around as asked. 

“Wade please shut up.” 

“You know I can’t do th- aaahh what are you doing?” He flinches, taken by surprise by the kiss you place on his back, right where the heart you’d marked on him had been.

“Well you can keep these ones a little longer.” This time, he keeps quiet the entire time you take to mark the heart on his back once again, with the lipstick this time, reapplying it before every other kiss so the marks truly showed. 

“Fuuuckkk I’m never washing my back again,” he comments as he admires the reflection in the mirror.

“Don’t even start.” 

“I’m staying dirty forever and it’s gonna be your fault, sweetheart,” he declares as he turns around to face you, and it pleases you to see his mood seems better. 

“We are taking a shower in a couple hours and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“We?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively at the implication.

“If that gets you to actually shower for once.”

“Hey, I shower all the time!”

“Then you can shower without me like a big boy.” 

“Actually I don’t take showers I don’t know how.” 

“Yeah, yeah I figured.”

A/N: hey send me stuff for deadpool i actually enjoyed writing this lol it was v fun and cute!! i hope it isn't much too ooc lol i still gotta get the hang of writing wade

[writing-mlm]

We’re alike… aren’t we?

Summary: Jason gets help getting bandaged after being stabbed, you get help after your fear of needles stops you from taking your HRT Pairing: Jason Todd & Trans!reader Wc: 960 tags/warnings: gender neutral reader, can be nb/ftm/mtf, stitching jason up, taking HRT, mentions of being tortured, trans blues, no romance but can be seen as such

based on a tiktok by @/bloody_converse

—

Jason doesn’t understand why you stay around even after everything he’s done. You know his past, you know his present, and for fucks sake you probably see where his future is heading. But fuck, you’re still there. You’re still letting him in at one in the morning after he crashed through your window for the millionth time that month, all with open arms. 

You’re still giving him the good blanket because it’s the middle of winter and his suit isn’t all that good at keeping him warm. You’re still lowering the music because he’s bordering on a concussion. You’re still staring at him as if he isn’t a serial killer, crime lord, zombie!

He doesn’t understand that you get it. 

In your own way, of course. 

You know what it’s like having a family that mourns you even though you’re right in front of them. You know what it’s like to feel as if you’re in the wrong body, missing parts that you’ll probably never get no matter how hard you work because it’s not the same. It just isn’t. You understand all too well what it’s like when your family looks at you, not looking at the adult you’ve grown into but the child they once had. The child you can no longer be. The adult that cannot bear to accept because it’s not what they had in mind for you. 

You know what it’s like to be set aside, to be considered wrong. 

You both don’t like mirrors, broken enough that you’ve gotten bad luck for the next three lifetimes. You both get nervous when getting intimate with partners because what if they think your bodies are gross? You’ve both gotten fucked over by your fathers. 

“Did you take your shot?” He asks as you hand him a water bottle and a pill for his pain. 

“No,” You sigh, looking away from him. “I chickened out again.” He doesn’t laugh, but you see the twinkle in his eyes as he takes the pill without the water chaser. He still drinks it, though. It’s non-contaminated water, it’s like the holy grail for fucks sake. 

“Get it, I'll do it.” It’s no use putting up a fuss, he’d just get up and find it himself. Besides, you could really use the help. The needle thing still freaks you out and your insurance is moving slow to move you to something better like gel or auto injections things. 

When you return, he’s washing his hands and putting on a pair of gloves. Not to mention in one of his shirts he keeps at your place, something about having too many germs on his clothes to be next to medical equipment. He’s forgotten pants, you note. Probably because he’s bleeding from his outer thigh. 

“I’ll get the medkit,” Setting your box of HRT supplies on the coffee table, you ignore his protest. Getting the kit you’d gotten after the first time he crashed at yours needing medical attention but refusing to go to a hospital or Bruce’s. Which, for the record, is more often than you care to think about.

When you return he’s sitting on your floor, a small pool of blood collecting on his discarded shirt. You replace it with an old towel and clean the spot. He doesn’t wince, but you see his thigh tense as you wipe the area and begin stitching him up. He’s used to getting stitched up, it hardly affects him these days unless it’s a bad wound. Thankfully this is a small stab wound, it’ll heal in under a week if he doesn’t open the stitches. And he probably will at some point. 

“All done,” Grinning at your work, you wrap it in bandages and then put a pin to secure it. He’ll check on it once he can but he trusts your handy work, it hasn’t failed him yet. 

“Your turn,” He says when you remove your own set of latex gloves. You wince at the idea but begrudgingly let him do it. He moves you to the couch, lifting your shirt enough that he can see your stomach and has you hold it up. You do, knuckles pressing against your skin so much your hand starts to shake.

“You’re a lot better at stitching me up and putting a needle in your stomach,” He humors you as he’s grabbing an alcohol wipe, eyes flickering up to yours. He cleans the vile first, carefully setting it on the table when he’s done. 

“You try getting tortured by needles,” You mutter, blinking down at his hand as he wipes the area. It’s cold against your skin, even more so when he fans it for a second. “Fucking hate Joker,” 

“Don’t we all,” He grabs the bottle and a 1-millimeter syringe that makes you inhale and look away. “You’re good, you got this,” He mutters with his attention mostly on drawing the liquid into the syringe with a careful eye. He switches the needle before checking for air bubbles and pinches at your skin once he’s sure it’s perfect.

“Ready?” He asks. “You can squeeze my shoulder.” You can only muster a nod as you prepare yourself. He works slowly, watching as he carefully slides the needle into your stomach and then watches your face as he slowly injects it. He doesn’t like it when he helps you; the panic in you makes his stomach hurt but he also doesn’t want you to not take your HRT or have a panic attack trying to do it yourself. 

He pulls the needle out and wipes away the drop of blood before putting on a bandaid. 

“All done.” He smiles, snapping his gloves off. You drop your shirt with a sigh, running your hands over your face as you relax.

[konigsblog]

loser!soap is such a pervert when it comes to somnophilia.. :((

oh, of course. a sicko like him doesn't care for your feelings; he's more focused on his own. :(

tw/cw; rape, dub-non-con, somnophilia, forced and accidental pregnancy, loser!soap. MDNI 18+

Soap probably should feel guilty and sympathetic for being so touchy-feely with you despite your visible discomfort. You're his teammate, a sweet and naive little thing for him to ruin and play with as if you're some toy, not a trustworthy and loyal teammate he can rely on for comfort and care. You trust him too much despite his grossness, completely unaware of what you were getting yourself into when you befriended him.

“Fuck, look at you.” he growls out quietly, admiring how peaceful and relaxed you look, how he plans to rip your peacefulness away from you and expose your body to him for his own sick and selfish benefit. It's the early hours of the morning, the sky is still pitch black with only a few stars and the moon illuminating the darkness. He can barely make out your facial features through the dark while stroking himself fantasising about ruining you, how pretty your cunt would look wrapped around his thick, bulbous cock.

Soap can't hold himself back. He doesn't want to. He wants to force your thighs open and spread your folds to shove himself deep inside your gummy cunt, to thrust into you until you're weak and crying, apologising for whatever you've done wrong. He makes sure to keep himself quiet to prevent you from seeing his face or hearing his voice, so that you'll come crawling back to him in the morning, telling him how you were raped last night. He'd comfort you, attempting to hide the sick smirk on his face, thinking back to all the violent and violating things he'd done.

Your breathing is shallow and quiet, your body is still and limp in his arms as he lingers above your sleeping form. His fingers knead the flesh on your hips and breasts, pulling your legs around his broad and muscular waist while pushing into your tight, smooth hole. You're soaking wet, so slick and aroused as if this is what you want—to be treated inhumanely. You gasp suddenly, eyes widening with Johnny pinning your hands to your side, biting his bottom lip to suppress the guttural sounds of his pleasure and enjoyment.

His thrusts start off slow as he attempts to work himself into your drooling pussy, ignoring your pleas for him to stop. He just started, he can't stop now, can he? “Stop!” you choke out through shock, your words caught in your throat at the ache and burning sensation of being split open around his meaty shaft. You squirm and fight against the man raping your weak body, your tears leaving your face tear-stained. Your attempts at saving yourself are fruitless, he slaps you across the face brutally and leaves your head spinning as he drives his sturdy hips into you relentlessly. The man's fat balls smack against your rear with each thrust, leaving you silenced, barely able to comprehend what's happening, let alone keep up with his quickening pace.

Johnny's fat cock swells inside of your warm heat, your velvety inside pulsating around his veiny shaft while your cunt accepts Johnny's dick greedily. Your tight heat swallows his inches while you wail out quietly, head thrown back and your body shaking, fear washing over you. You've never felt so weak and defenceless against someone before. Despite the darkness blinding you, you can feel yourself bleeding. You can already imagine the crimson and ruby liquid coating your thighs and his stiff cock leaving your cervix bruised, his thrusts hitting deeper than before. It feels as if you're being impaled, the stabbing sensation only worsening with his dick thrusting deeper into you. You can already sense that he's getting close with the man's breathing quickening and becoming laborious and strained. Your tight walls clamp down around his dick to coat him in a mixture of your sweet juices and blood, your jaw slack and bottom lip quivering.

“Please, pull out at least! I can’t get pregnant, please.”

Johnny can't control himself. He accidentally fucks his hot creaminess deep into your swollen, puffy folds and doesn't even think about the consequences of unprotected sex. It'll come back to him in a few days when you weep into his shoulder, with a positive pregnancy test and the look of horror stuck on his face.

Perhaps when the baby is born you'll recognise those familiar blue eyes that you grew to adore and love.

[4rticbolt]

The Menacing Bra |Master-list|

Fluff, swearing, kissy-kissy, crack, cringe and cliche?? Longish-drabble

You and the cook have a moment, and he actually grew a pair to make a move

•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•

Laundry day.

Oh boy. What absolute joy, the repetitive chore that tested your limits. Chipping away your mental capacity, and your motivation to do anything at all.

You’d spent hours on end, scrubbing and rinsing, only to wear the clothes again, ferevently repeating the cycle.

You cursed, pinching a clip to your nose. You had always wished there was some cheat sheet, some easy way out, other than free labor from the boys. Especially, when you’d gotten stuck with Nami and Robin’s clothes. You’d kindly asked them, seeing their closets were getting low and they’d never decline an offer like that.

Because honestly, who would? Washing clothes by hand was time consuming, and neither you nor the women had the patience for it. Sure, you might be throwing yourself under the bus here, but you cannot for the life of you fucking throw soap and bubbles for an hour.

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you scrubbed and submerged the materials hoping you could get done before lunch.

Luckily, the odds seemed to be in your favor. You hadn’t procrastinated as much as you normally did, so you’d be done with this before lunch. But the peace didn’t last, distant crash emitted from downstairs.

“Spoke too soon,” you sighed, hearing a distant laugh and girlish scream follow after another. A familiar angry shout rang from the kitchen and a chaotic catchy cackle echoed.

You didn’t even want know what the cook was dealing with now.

When paired, the trio of boys were a nightmare. Though speaking of them, if you even had to touch their laundry you’d pass away. That was an actual health hazard, and even thinking about it made your skin crawl.

You shuddered, shaking your head. A grossed shiver ran through your spine causing bubbles to fly.

Ew. Just imagining the men’s laundry was a shit show. Maybe not Sanji’s, as he actually cared about his hygiene—but regardless, it was still nasty.

Sanji, who seemed to holler again—made you crack a smile. Your thoughts centered to him as he consequently reprimanded the idiots for whatever ‘crime’ they outdrew.

Though the glimpse of his agitated face made your smile widen.

The way his brows would have creased into a frown, and the way his jaw would have clenched—sharpening his neck... You silently cursed as your mind filtered elsewhere, leaving the rest of you to the mercy of your imagination.

Ok, sure, maybe you had fallen for the hopeless cook but how could you not?

He’d always showered you in devoted affection—heartfelt compliments, and any craving you could possibly think of. You saw him as the perfect package.

Yeah, maybe he could be a little perverted in the terms of others, but that was just his charm. Or so you’d convinced yourself. You never had an issue with him, he’d always been kind—and that kindness easily swooned you.

Yes, he had unhinged compliments, but it was heart-felt. It had to be. Because deep down, his selfless acts and perverted thoughts felt more like a puppy love than anything. Appreciation, admiration, and his firm morals…were always so oddly refreshing.

Though, speaking of that appreciation, you were almost done. You just had to hang up one of your undergarment’s. The task was easy as the deck finally quieted, meaning lunch was ready.

So as quickly as you could, you stepped onto the rail, reaching to a height where you could hang the material. Ignoring the breeze that rushed by, you hopped down to deal with the soapy water—dumping it overboard.

“____, my love! Lunch is done,” Sanji called, his voice glowing with an excited smile as he steadily rounded the corner to take you inside.

“Yeah, just a sec.” You replied, shaking the soapy suds from the container, watching them fall to the ocean below.

“No worries, I can wait darling.”

Turning back, you weren’t met with the handsome face of the cook, but a sharp gust of wind and a wet towel. It speedily flew towards you, smacking you straight in the face.

“Shit—“ Thwack

“Damn wind—you alright?” His voice reached, muffled over the violent winds. The immeasurable pressure howled over the ship, shoving you against the Sunny’s rail with blunt force.

You managed a muffled holler as a response, but the towel had blocked your vision. Musky soaked flowers welcomed your sense of smell, but it quickly disappeared as it thudded to the floor. This wind died down, and you were left soaked. Your blue tank hard a darker hue, and your hard smudged to your face.

You annoyingly wiped the edges out of your face, quickly asking the cook if he was okay. But he wasn’t. You immediately froze at the sight in-front of you.

No.

Actually die.

He’s dead. You killed the man—or well, the bra that covered his face did. He was as red as a tomato, frozen in place.

You would’ve laughed at the sight if you weren’t so embarrassed.

Hesitant hands came in-front of you, debating what to do with yourself in this situation.

“Sanji?”

“S-so soft...” he whispered, dramatically plummeting to the floor.

There he goes…

A long huff escaped you, watching the pathetic trail of blood stream from his nose, and you slowly knelt beside him calling his name.

Sanji didn’t respond, so you tried again, and again, and again. But he was utterly helpless. He twitched like some possessed bug—far too gone to be saved, so you decide you decided to give him air.

Peeling off and tossing aside the bra, your hands hovered yet again, hesitating. You gently patted his cheeks, hoping to snap him out of his spell.

“Hello? Earth to sanji?” You called, patiently waiting. Though as time passed, you began to grow worried. You almost thought to call Chopper, but you didn’t really want to explain this situation.

Far too awkward, far too embarrassing.

So you took matters into your own hands.

“Hey,” You finally chided, swatting his face—leaving light pink marks. “Sanji, snap out of it!”

. . .

Nothing. Literally nothing.

God, how bad was he down for you? Like—religiously? Or—

Ok rude. That was rude. Don’t think that.

You regretted the act of your harsh hands, and impulsive thoughts, but this was ridiculous. His face was blissfully unaware of your torment, and he’d just been in heaven.

Thriving through the cusp of your bra—you couldn’t believe this.

A frustrated sigh escaped you, and you lightly cradled his face, quietly murmuring his name. No matter the frustration or embarrassment, you could never keep yourself from watching him, he was just too pretty for that.

Luckily, your gentle movement did the trick. It was almost instant.

“Yes, d-darling?” his eyes fluttered open, and he stuttered bringing a blue handkerchief to his nose, cleaning away the mess.

“Are you okay?”

“Haha, yes—lovely,” He breathed, locked in the aftermath of your bra. He couldn’t believe he’d seen the world.

You only seemed to grumble at his words, but your heart hammered when his eyes shined to your own. He gently smiled and you just froze, quietly watching him.

“Are you sure?” you asked, leaning a bit back.

“You’re pink.”

Ugh. Blow by blow, your heart was taking too many hits, and you wish you could just disappear.

This was not your friendly situation of: you could do this. This was embarrassing.

Sanji chuckled, leaning on his heels. He was far from you in your kneeled form, and it was just another hit to your chest.

“Positive Love,” he reassured, tucking his tissue aside. He seemed oblivious now, or—as he so acted, but for such a doting idiot he didn’t seem to take a hint.

“Are you alright?”

“Huh? Why wouldn’t I be,” you muttered, averting your gaze. You were quick to stand, but he’d been quicker helping you to your feet.

“Just wondering, that towel flew by before I could stop it,” he said, looking you over. Taking in your dampened shirt and messied hair— he fell in love with you all over again.

An innocent silence went by as you fixed your hair, taking notice to his stare. You thought to comment on it, maybe to change the subject and flirt—but you’d just point out your own habits.

So you opted not to.

“Yeah—uh, it did,” you said awkwardly, transfixing your gaze to the deck, which he’d taken quick notice to. But you hadn’t been slick enough to keep to yourself.

“That wind was pretty crazy, huh? Pushed me into the rails.” you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck.

“That it did, is your back alright chérie?”

“Huh? Oh—it’s fine, I’m okay. Push and shove is fine, I mean, no—it’s not.” you didn’t even know what you were saying now, you were tumbling over your words but you couldn’t seem to catch yourself.

But Sanji didn’t seemed to mind, he loved your little rambles.

He could tell you were nervous, and he just loved it. Inside, he was a wreck himself, but seeing you like this made him confident. Sanji saw how he was affecting you, and he only wanted to see more of it.

So, he pushed to make you blush.

“I should—“ you went to say something, but his hand found your waist and your stomach tightened.

There it was.

The cook gave you the option to step away, but you didn’t and he continued. He stepped closer, keeping a kind smile to his face—patiently waiting for you to look up to him.

But you only panicked, you didn’t know what to do, but you didn’t want it to stop. You wanted to kiss him—but was that the wrong move? Was that he wanted? Probably, but you’d didn’t know how to follow through with it. You were a complete ditz to this.

Romance wasn’t your forte, but it sure was his. He knew how to sweet talk a lady, and he knew how to treat one. He was the embodiment of a gentleman—and he’d never dare hit a woman.

Not even if his life depended on it.

“I don’t bite, you know,” he murmured, watching your hands stiffly come to your front.

You finally turned to look up at him, and he wanted to kiss you then and there, but he held back.

Sanji always had with you. He was gentle, and he always made sure you were comfortable. He was a flirt, and you were awkward but that didn’t stop him.

Reactions had never been hard to get out of you, and he liked that, but as more of those nervous rambles drew out; he found himself wanting more.

Unknowingly, you drew him in like an addiction, something he could just go hours watching. Taking pleasure from it. Nervous or rambling he adored you more than he could ever describe.

“If I’m being too much you can tell me,” he reminded, keeping considerate.

“No, no not at all I just,” your voice trailed off and you found yourself looking to his lips.

He caught that, and he took the hint pulling you closer. You chest bumped against his and you leaned back.

“Sorry,” you muttered, averting your gaze.

“What? Don’t apologize, there’s nothing you to be sorry for,” he chuckled, dragging a tender hand along your back, sending tingles of warmth along with it.

He looked to you, and he was drawn to your lips like honey to a bee. But that train of thought was quickly interrupted. His eyes widened as you impulsively leaned up, kissing him.

But it wasn’t long before he melted.

A soft groan muffled against your own, and he cupped the back of your head deepening the kiss.

Sanji always thought you looked sweet, but this far surpassed any imagination he could conjure.

His lips longingly met yours, and he groaned when your hands slid up his chest to his shoulders. His legs almost buckled at the feeling, and he needily slipped his tongue across yours.

You parted to take a breath, but Sanji was too eager. He kissed you again muffling a noise, as he walked to push you against the rail, tilting your head back.

A warm breeze blew by and hands were everywhere, dragging along every part of you, carefully squeezing your shirt and skin. Fingers dipped beneath your tank, trailing up your stomach to the soft dips in your ribs—brushing against the underside of your bra.

SLAM

A door across from you opened, and an impatient captain ruined your moment. “Sanji! Can we eat now?!”

With quick reflexes, the two of you flew away from each-other. You quickly fixed you tank while he tidied up his tux, an awkward cough sounded from you.

“Hey what are you—“

“Nothing!” You dismissed, coughing again—trying to rid the burning feeling in your mouth. You looked beet red quickly passing past the boy.

“He just came to tell me lunch was done, we can eat now!” you chirped, wiping a thumb your lips to rid it of any dampness—fleeing the scene.

You couldn’t believe you’d been so close to being caught.

“Uh—____ wait—“ Sanji tried, but he was fairing off no better. A deep blush was absorbed to his face spreading down his neck. He was a mess.

But as soon as you left, he was seething. It was like a switch as it came to play Luffy had interrupted something that he’d have continued.

“Huh? What’s her deal—“

“Did you have to ruin that?!” He snapped, grabbing the stretchy idiot by his shirt, rapidly shaking him. He didn’t even bother to hide fluster.

“You idiot! Could you not see I was having a moment! I’ve waited forever for this—and you just had to plow through and ruin it!”

“What moment?! And what do you mean ruin it! I just said I was hungry!” his rubber head helplessly flopped back n’ forth, as he tried to avoid the cooks wrath, but he’d ultimately failed.

Yes, Luffy might’ve been hungry.

But, Sanji had been starving.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

lazy mornings and the proposal

animal - bonus headcanons

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

i wanted to let everyone know that even with the epilogue coming out soon and the series being officially over, i'm still not ready to let go of these two. so if you have any ideas or prompts or questions about feral!logan feel free to submit an ask!

warnings: mentions of sex, light sweat kink (oops)

series masterlist │my masterlist

there’s nothing better than a lazy morning with logan, staying in bed long past sunrise, chasing the warmth that can be found in each others arms. it’s rare, these days, now that he’s gotten a job as a lumberjack and has to be up fairly early most mornings for work, making sure to wake you before he leaves, kissing you deeply and reminding you that he loves you. gone are the days where the two of you would stay home together, locked in your own little world with no one to bother you.

he’d wanted - no, he’d needed, really- to get a job. it gave him something to do with his days, a purpose other than stalking your every move, following behind you like a shadow as you went about your day. it’s a distraction, and a welcome one, one that gives him the opportunity to be a more balanced version of himself, to find peace and trust that you aren’t going to disappear if he leaves you out of his sight for more than a few seconds.

he brings home a decent paycheck, much more than you were making by selling the extra produce from your garden. it’s unnecessary, everything you own had once belonged to your grandparents and has long been paid off, but it’s nice to have the extra cash, to be able to go into town with logan and splurge on expensive alcohol for him and gorgeous new dresses for you.

he’s good at what he does, hacking away at wood with his unnatural strength given to him by his mutation. he’s the best at what he does, to the point where you occasionally worry it’s become too obvious that he’s not like the others, but he always comes home safe.

the smell of wood and sweat cling to him like a second skin and you bury your face in his neck, understanding his obsession with doing the same to you, loving the way the smell of him surrounds you, makes you feel like he’s the only thing in the world. maybe it should be gross, he’s exerted himself all day and is covered by the proof of it, but there’s something about it that makes you melt into him every time.

he takes off his muddy shoes and picks you up, ignoring your squeal of protest at the unexpected gesture, smirks when you wrap your legs around his waist. he brings you into your bedroom to take the stress of his day out on your body or into the bathroom where you run your hands over his bare skin and wash away anything that isn’t your loving touch. either way, the tension leaves him the moment he’s returned to you, able to recognise that you’re safe.

you love the life you’ve built, the ease and comfort of it, and yet those lazy mornings, so few and far between, are still your favourite. the days where logan doesn't have to go into work and you push back your daily chores for later because you would much prefer to stay snuggled up in bed, laughing as he kisses your neck and bare shoulders, twinning your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

the night he proposes starts off like any other. he returns home from work to the smell of dinner in the oven, takes you apart under the warm stream of water from the showerhead beating down on your skin, lets you wash away the grime from his body and dig your hands into the tense muscles of his back, massaging away the day’s activities. he melts into you, letting you care for him in a way he’d never let anyone else, and you smile beatifically.

when you exit the shower, it’s to the sound of the oven timer going off, announcing that the dinner you’d prepared for the two of you is ready. you hardly notice when logan doesn’t follow you out of the bathroom and into the kitchen as usual - some days he returns from a long day on the job and refuses to leave your side, on others he needs moments of solitude peppered in to keep the overstimulation at bay.

he stops in your shared bedroom as you plate the food, giving logan double your portion size as usual.

his body requires more energy to function, his healing factor taking a lot out of him. it’s not something logan ever noticed, since he doesn’t bother to worry about his own health most of the time, but you see the way it affects him when he doesn’t eat the way he should. it’s horribly taxing on his body, making his veins protrude from his skin in harsh lines, a reminder that no matter how easy it is to ignore it when looking at his muscular and imposing stature, his body is still starving.

you’ve made it your mission to feed him, and so you narrow your eyes into a glare until he finishes his plate, leaning over afterwards to kiss the annoyance from your lips, muttering praises and thanks that have your skin tingling and face feeling hot. 

he’s healthier now, a layer of fat covering his muscles, a softness to his body that wasn’t there before. it’s something you pride yourself on, the knowledge that you’re taking good care of him.

he doesn’t talk much throughout dinner, though he never does. you tell him about the latest book you’ve started reading, going back and forth on whether or not you’re truly enjoying it, complaining about the characters personalities while raving about the writing style. it makes logan smile, watching you be so passionate.

he gives you a few vague sentences about his day at work when you press him about it. “it’s not that interesting,” he says, the same excuse he gives every day. occasionally, he’ll have some gossip to share about the men he works with, his enhanced hearing allowing him to listen to their conversations without being forced to partake in them, but not today. “would much rather listen to you talk, darlin’.”

with desert in front of you and a peaceful lull in they conversation he takes your hand, kisses the back of it with his slightly chapped lips before getting down on one knee and pulling out the ring he’d bought a few weekends ago while you perused the farmer’s market stalls. it’s not big or flashy, the night is hardly out of the ordinary in any way, but it’s perfect. your eyes prick with tears that you attempt to hold back but fall anyway the moment you blink.

this is what makes yours and logan’s relationship, the understanding that there’s no need to be anything but yourselves, that as long as he’s here promising to love you forever, pleading you to do the same, there’s nothing else that could come close to matching the joy in your heart as you say yes.

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh @trickstergabriel69 @lord-bingus666

[tangylemonade]

Friends w/ Benefits 

Jeonghan x afab reader  18+ MINORS DNI (istg 🫵🏾 ಠ_ಠ if I catch you)

Literally just wrote this lol and it's not actually proofread (I looked over it once). Maybe 1k I need to go to bed but I wanted to write so here I am (btw thank you anon for the suggestion 😊) It's basically just smut with dialog and a bit of angst I guess

The buzz of your doorbell was unexpected but not surprising. You knew Jeonghan had gotten off of work around this time and on particularly stressful days he seemed to find himself at your door holding a bottle of wine waiting for you to open up.

“And he's back...” you said jokingly, as you opened the door and turned back into your kitchen.

“Treat me kindly, I bear gifts.” he retorted as he kicked off his shoes and shut the door.

“I was just about to eat dinner. You hungry?”

“I could eat.”

Jeonghan followed you into the kitchen, opening the cabinet right away and taking out the wine glasses.

“Mhhhh…that smells good.” he dipped his finger into the sauce you were simmering and popped it into his mouth. “Needs a tad more salt.”

“Gross.” you said swatting him away but still adding a pinch of salt and stirring the dinner that was always far too much for only you.

You served you both and sat down at the table.

“Ohh, I see you've brought out your finest China madam.” Jeonghan said as he picked up the plastic spoon you placed next to his paper plate.

“Fuck off. Are you gonna wash the dishes?”

All he did was laugh his little gremlin laugh and take a bite.

“This is delicious. I'm glad I came at the last minute and saved your dinner from disaster.”

“I think you're dehydrated darling; this is a bit too salty.”

“It tastes perfect to me.” He said with a shrug. “This wine tastes like shit though.”

“There really is no better pairing.” you said with a laugh.

“Agreed.”

Once dinner was done you put the pots in your refrigerator and threw out the dishes.

“And clean.” you said flopping down on the couch and putting your feet on Jeonghan’s lap.

“I'm gonna go shower. Wanna join me?” Jeonghan asked as he stretched and got up.

You nodded and followed him into the bathroom ripping off your clothes and tossing them in your hamper. Jeonghan followed suit, except he purposely ignored the hamper step, and turned on the shower, hopping in right away.

“Seriously? The hamper is right there.”

You rolled your eyes and put his things in your hamper which now had just as many of his clothes as yours.

“Jeonghan, you're gonna have to start paying some of my water bill if you keep this up.”

You stepped into the shower to find him slowly stroking his erection as the hot water ran through his long hair.

“Good god you couldn't wait.”

“You were taking so long.”

“Picking up your clothes.”

“Whatever. Get over here.”

He grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him under the water. Your soft lips bounced into his as his hands ran along your ass and thighs. Running your hands through his hair you grabbed a handful and tugged, pulling a moan from his hungry lips. Dropping your hands down to his cock you stroked him adding a little squeeze just to feel the falter in his kisses along your neck.

“You’re really sensitive today.”

“Long day.” Jeonghan said before pushing you up against the shower wall.

His fingers found your clit and he returned that favor with a pinch that had you almost slip.

“Wait.” you said breathlessly as you stopped his hand. “Sit down, I wanna ride you.”

Jeonghan happily complied as he sat back in the tub of the shower and looked up at your body.

He could stare at you like that forever. 

In the dim light of the bathroom your body looked heavenly as the water patted on your skin. 

You lowered yourself onto him, your pussy lips laying on his throbbing cock and making it twitch in frustration. Looking down into his eyes you drove him crazy as you sinfully moved your hips and dragged your wet pussy up and down his shaft. Jeonghan’s hands traveled up and down your body as he squeezed at your breast, his thumb and index playing and squeezing your nipple.

“Fuck.” Jeonghan breathed out as your heat continued to glide against him. “Let me fill you baby.”

You lifted your hips as he reached down and guided himself into you, your walls naturally sucking him in with greed.

Jeonghan's hands that once again sought purchase on your breast were met with yours as you pinned them above his head and leaned in to capture his lips. Nipping and sucking you marveled at the quickness in which Jeonghan’s fair skin began to show signs of your obsession.

Greedily you rocked your hips, your moans syncing with his and bouncing loudly off the bathroom walls.

“So good....” you moaned.

Your eyes fluttered open and closed as you anchored yourself against Jeonghan’s chest and picked up your pace.

But Jeonghan's eyes watched you. He watched your body move with sensual fluidity as you pulled more pleasure out of him than anyone else ever could. He watched your flushed face through the steam of the shower as your eyebrows crinkled in pleasure. He swallowed every one of your kisses as you languidly laid them against his open mouth.

The shower water patterned off of your hot bodies as they rocked together chasing the high of the moment.

Jeonghan took in your every quirk and expression as the feeling of you while watching your pleasure drove him over the edge. You were already pulsing in hot waves around him and that was all he needed. 

Jeonghan held you close as he thrusted into you a few more times before his own orgasm shot from him in fiery pleasure. He leaned back and looked up at you once again as you dazedly looked up at the ceiling and caught your breath. 

The water and sweat trickled down your neck to your collarbone, along your soft mounds, and off your nipples onto Jeonghan’s body as he drank in your afterglow.

Too soon you rose from off of him chuckling at Jeonghan as he continued to lay down in the tub. Your and his juices were still dripping down your thigh and glistening on his cock. 

Jeonghan still made no effort to move so you put on a little show for him in sensual jest-fullness as you sudsed up and washed off, his eyes unwaveringly watching you. Laughing you stepped out of the shower and wrapped the towel around your body.

“Seriously Jeonghan, I'm gonna send you my water bill this month. Don't stay in there too long.”

With that you were out of the bathroom shutting the door behind you. Jeonghan let out a breath before rising tiredly from the tub. He felt that way after every fuck. Beyond please and very exhausted in so many ways. 

He finished showering before drying off and getting dressed

Jeonghan walked into your room, your his towel over his head as he shook it around to dry his hair.

“Move over.”

“Jeonghan… you know how I feel about cuddling.” Your voice, quiet but stern.

He threw his wet towel at you and rolled his eyes. “Who wants to cuddle with you?”

You tossed the towel back at him before rolling over and giving him some room.

You laid there in his shirt, so soft and warm as you drew your favorite cold and distancing line.

“Whatever dude, just stay on your side.”

He had a side in your bed that he'd lose the moment he crossed. Jeonghan shook his head at the absurdity before flopping down next to you and slipping under the covers, pulling more towards him.

Jeonghan smiled as he felt your foot on his back, kicking against him and pulling your covers back.

“Nice try buddy but you forget who's boss.”

“Well, it was worth a shot.” Jeonghan said before releasing the extra blanket that he didn't even need.

How could he forget who was boss when everything here followed your terms of engagement. But then again, Jeonghan agreed so who was he to complain?

“Listen Jeonghan.” you said after the first night something like this had happened. “You'll always be my best friend but we're adults so that doesn't mean we can't enjoy each other in uh… more ways if we want.”

Jeonghan agreed without a second thought.

“Friends,” he said with a smile. 

“With benefits?” 

Jeonghan shook the hand you were holding out to him. 

At the time it seemed like an excellent idea to him who only wanted to feel your body wrapped around him once more. Anything to have a part of you who was still too broken to give anything whole.

But now that his side of your bed was so cold he wasn't so sure anymore. 

He laid watching your back as your shoulder peacefully rose and fell.

“Friends.” he whispers to himself before rolling over.

MY MASTERLIST

[cherryheairt]

saw a tiktok of a guy begging his gf to keep scratching his back whenever she paused it made me think of benjicot. I keep seeing kieran's tts hes so feminist bf coded

🪶

Dramatic

"Please?"

"No."

"Please." he begged.

Sighing, Rena complied with his plea and began her delicate movements once more. This had become a nightly routine since their wedding, when the couple were finally allowed to share their chambers–though that never stopped them from sneaking around before.

She liked to keep her nails shaped finely, slightly above her fingertips and well-cleaned. Benjicot discovered the benefits of her self-care one day when they both lie in bed, naked. His head was on her bare chest, content to listen to her humming while he was resting on the plush skin. Her nails dragged up and down his back, making him shiver almost violently.

When she paused, he groaned loudly, "don't stop."

Giggling, she continued her motions til he was asleep.

This had been going on for months. When the couple sat in bed after their coupling, knowing their nights were spent all to themselves instead of serving their house and Lord and Lady. Benjicot was weak to her touch.

Though, he hadn't always been so aware.

Her lashes, thick and long, were the result of oiling them before bed. Her hair, volumous and long because of the messages she worked on during her baths. Legs and arms smooth from concentrated shaving. Her unique floral scent, only present thanks to the perfumes from Dorne.

Many things went into a noble ladies' looks, though any unknowing man thought that it just came naturally. 'Just born pretty and smelling good,' was a common misconception in their life. Also, an excuse for the men to be the opposite.

Benji was one of the clueless ones, in awe of Rena's beauty and always complimenting her scent with his head shoved to her neck.

It was only after they married that he found out how long it took to get that way. He would be out of their shared bath for a half-hour, just watching dumbstruck as she razed her limbs. "You have to do this every bath?" He asked, wincing when he thought she might nick her leg.

Rena laughed, shaking her head. "Once a week, maybe."

He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. He was only covered by his waist cloth, content with sitting in the bathroom until she was done. "You don't have to, if you don't want to." Benjicot said. "I won't mind."

She smiled up at him, grateful that he was he husband and not some ignorant old brute. "I know, I like my routines. It makes me feel pretty." Rena preened under his loving stare.

"You're always pretty." He declared with a soft kiss to her knuckles. He nearly leaped with joy when she stood, done with washing and shaving–only to deadpan when she slathered herself in scented oils outside of the bath.

Tonight was like all the previous ones, Ben insisting that he could not sleep without her tender massages. It had been a long day for both of them, both content to relax in their shared silence. Until she paused her motions to move potsitions.

For minutes at a time, she would scratch, wondering how he had not fallen asleep yet. He would moan whenever she paused, pleading desperately. "You won't die without it for one night, my love." She snorted quietly in the candlelit room.

"I might. How do we know that I won't?" He grunted, face deep into her smooth neck.

"My husband, killed not by the sword of a fearsome enemy, but by not getting enough attention from his wife." Rena sighed.

He nodded, smiling. "That will be put on my gravestone." They both laughed.

"You really can't sleep without it?"

"Truly." Benji answered.

"Hm. What if I couldn't sleep, would you not return the favor?" Rena asked, amused.

Benjicot answered by lifted his hand to her face, showing off his blunt calloused fingertips. "Gotta keep 'em short."

"Ah, yes. For swordfighting.' She mused.

"No, for you."

"Me?" Bemused, she glanced down at him, only to see his smug face.

"Gross, Ben." She said, through a poorly hidden laugh. Benjicot looked very pleased with himself as he wetly kissed her check, producing a dramatic 'pop!' sound.

"You weren't complaining earlier."

Rena shoved his face away, groaning at his boorishness. "Go to bed." She huffed.

"I will, once you scatch my back."

They held prolonged eye contact, neither backing down until Rena blinked accidentally. "Ha!" Benjicot cheered. "I win."

Rena rolled her eyes, knowing she couldn't argue with their years-long tradition. Any petty and unserious argument must be solved with a staring contest to swiftly end it, lest it be turned into a serious one.

She sat back once more, hair a mess around her when it scrunched into the pillow. Benji followed, laying right were he always did, on her chest. He sighed with content when she started moving her nails in patterns across his skin.

"Thank you, my love."

Rena hummed her response, kissing his messy hair goodnight.

[live-laugh-lenney]

plz can you write something where the boys tease Arthur TV because he’s so obsessed with you

(i have so many requests but I don’t wanna be annoying lol)

I love your writing!!

i made it holiday related again because i'm really feeling in that mood right now... hahaha.

arthur was enamoured.

he'd always thought yn was pretty and very beautiful and seeing her in a holiday scenario, where she was relaxed and enjoying herself, his infatuation had doubled... tripled.... and then quadrupled as the days of their holiday went on.

the way her striped bikini clung to her in the right spots, the way her hair was pulled back into the messiest bun upon her head to keep it from getting wet (to save having to wash it again because she gave it a wash the previous night, she claims), the way her sunglasses sat on her nose and protected her eyes from the bright light, the way her skin was so beautifully kissed by the rays of the sunshine and how she had practically tanned from the moment she stepped foot out in the open.

he tried to take his eyes from her as she floated in the pool whilst she sunbathed but, sometimes, she was all he wanted to look at.

"i'm not being funny but," george stands to his feet, the sun-lounger beneath him scraping against the floor of the patio area lining the pool of their villa, catching arthur's attention and he walked over in his direction and leant over the back of the lounger that the man was stretched out upon, "if your mouth opens any further, you'll choke on flies."

"shut up," arthur grumbles under his breath, feeling his cheeks turn a rosy red colour which he wasn't sure would be visible due to how red his face had gotten under the harsh croatian sunlight that soaked his skin all afternoon, embarrassment running through his body at how he had been caught staring at one of his best friend, "i thought you were asleep, anyway."

"what? so you could stare at her like a weirdo? no, i was entertained watching you try and hold back a boner," george snickers softly and arthur shuffled uncomfortably on the sun-lounger, "why don't you just say something to her? or at least, shag her and get it out of your system. this is almost unbearable to watch."

"because that's gross behaviour and i'm not that kind of man," arthur mumbles lowly, reaching for his phone that he had placed in the shade underneath his sun-lounger as a way to distract himself, "i'm not after a shag. she's my friend, she's our friend, and i don't want to ruin the dynamic between all of us. that's not fair."

"she'll soon get creeped out with your staring and that really will ruin the group dynamic," george teases and arthur shrugs off his hands from where they were placed on his shoulders, "she'll clock on soon, you might as well tell her."

"no," arthur hisses back, shaking his head before glancing down at his phone and unlocking it so he could divert his attention from the bikini-clad girl floating in a ring on the surface of the pool with her headphones on her head as she listened to music whilst soaking up the sun above, "how you speak about her when she can't hear you is gross sometimes."

"she knows i'm only joking," george holds his hands up in defence and walks towards the open patio doors of their villa as he was bored of lazing for the afternoon, leaving his towel to try on his lounger as he took his belongings from the table and held them tightly in his hands, "i'm going for a shower and then for a nap before anyone else grabs the bathroom."

-

"where's yn?"

"you mean to tell us you've had her surgically removed from your hip?" chris asks, in feigned shock, from where he was stretched out across the sofa in the room, "you're joking?"

"what?"

arthur rolls his eyes and ignores the laugh that came from arthur hill as he done up the buttons of the shirt hanging down his torso, a bold print decorating the cotton material that matched the colour of his shorts buttoned to his waist.

"if you must know, she's just finishing up getting ready in her room and she'll be out soon," arthur hill says, picking up the open can of lager that was set on the table beside her phone, taking a swig from the top before he placed it back down, "can you cope for a couple of minutes without her?"

"you guys suck," arthur grumbles and shakes his head, reaching into the fridge to grab himself a can of beer, cracking it open and taking a hefty swig of the golden liquid hidden behind the metal, "you make it sound like i'm some obsessed freak."

"you are," chris insists, standing to his feet and picking up his own can of his chosen beverage for the week from the coffee table that was a mere stretch from the sofa and arthur could only muster up throwing the middle finger in his friend's direction, "hey, that's not nice. i'm only telling the truth, arthur."

"if you keep taking the piss out of me in front of yn then she's going to start hating me for being a weirdo around her," arthur frowns and chris just snickers at him, "seriously. i'm not a weirdo. she's just-"

the sound of a door opening made him stop mid-sentence and he gave a pleading look to his two friends that wordlessly begged for them not to tease him in front of her. as footsteps were heard coming down the stairs, the three men busied themselves in putting on their shoes and grabbing their jackets so that they were ready to leave once everyone had come together in the lower level of the villa.

it felt like a schoolboy crush. and, of course, he was planning on telling her just how he felt about her... he just wasn't sure when or how he wanted to tell her. he wanted it to be perfect, romantic, not in the earshot of his friends who would, no doubt, tease him for being such a simp in the situation.

"you look beautiful," arthur compliments her as she brushes passed him to grab the denim jacket she had draped over the back of one of the dining table chairs the previous night, "ready for another night on the town?"

"i don't think i can keep up with you guys again," she laughs softly, slipping her arms into the denim sleeves and adjusting it so it was comfortable on her shoulders, "i was coming back early tonight, i've got a bit of a headache. think it's just from being in the sun all day."

"do you want to stay here tonight? the boys can go out without us?"

"us?"

her eyes soften as she looks at him, his eyes darting from her face to anywhere in the room, unwilling to make eye contact because he felt silly for assuming she'd want him to stay behind with her. and he could feel the eyes of arthur hill and chris staring into the back of his head, which he wished would stop, and he was certain they would snicker about the situation behind his back.

"i mean, someone should watch out for you, just in case."

"i think i'll be fine, arthur," she reaches for his arm and squeezes it softly and reassuringly, "i'm starving so it could be to do with that. i'll just play it by ear."

"what are we playing by ear?"

george makes himself known as he walks around the corner, dressed in a pair of chino shorts and a short-sleeved, button-down shirt that matched the same colour. sunglasses on his face, phone and wallet in his hand, socks on his feet that were ready to slip into his trainers.

"arthur's hoping to bring yn home tonight," chris jokes teasingly and arthur swings around on his heels, eyebrows furrowed on his browline and he really wanted the ground to swallow him whole, "i'm kidding. yn's not feeling a hundred percent so she might come back early. arthur offered to stay with her if she needed to come back here."

"oh, that's kind of him," george smiles, sending a wink to arthur that he was surprised yn had completely missed, "what a sweetheart he is."

"i'd do it for any of you," arthur insists - he wouldn't, unless they had asked him to, "can we go? i'm hungry."

"have we decided where we're going?"

-

"is everything okay?"

arthur's brought out of his daze by the sound of her voice, soft and sweet and angelic, the only voice he wanted to hear. he turns around from where he was sat on the stones on the beach, knees brought up to his chest as he leant back on his palms, looking up at her as she approached him.

"why are you down here by yourself?"

"just wanted a bit of quiet time to myself," he explains and she sits herself down beside her, making sure her dress stayed covering her modesty as she stretched her legs out, crossing her ankles and leaning back on her palms in a similar fashion to him, "you didn't have to come and check on me. we should be checking on you."

"my headache's gone now," she smiles, looking across the water and watching as the waves crashed against the shore, "i'm worried about you now."

"i'm okay," he nods, "just want to enjoy the serenity of the scenery. it's beautiful out here. you kind of take it for granted and miss it when you're back home."

silence swallows the two of them, except the atmosphere was full of all kinds of sounds; the chatter of passersby as they went on a look for their chosen restaurant for dinner, the waves crashing against the stones, the crunching of stones as people walked back up from the water... and, in the distance, they could hear the raucous laughter of chris and george and arthur hill as they joked amongst themselves.

"is it the others?"

"the others?"

"they've been teasing you a lot today," yn informs him and he sighs heavily, letting out a deep exhale before rolling his head back and looking to the sky, "i've heard it, arthur. i think it's sweet."

"the teasing?"

he feels confused and weird; what was sweet? surely, if she heard the teasing then she could piece things together...

"no, you muppet," she giggles softly and turns her head to look at him, "i'm not weirded out that you've been staring at me, you know? i, uh, i've kinda been doing the same, i guess."

he looks at her, for the first time since she sat down beside him, and he gulps back the lump in his throat.

"not at myself," she blurts out, "but, at-"

"at me?"

she nods shyly and he can't help but feel the flips in his stomach as he felts knots tighten and loosen low in his gut.

"you haven't heard them teasing me, have you? the last three days of being here, they've been non-stop laughing at me. they think it's funny," she laughs softly and shakes her head, "they practically forced me to come over here and tell you so-"

he stares at her and she can see his brown eyes from behind the lenses covering them up, and she sighs.

"i wanted to come over though," she adds almost instantly, "to see if you were okay and to stop their incessant jokes and pisstakes. they're only trying to help, i guess?"

"they're annoying," arthur grumbles lowly and she can only hum out in agreement, "but, i guess, they know us both too well. almost far too well, i think."

"you coming back up for dessert? i ordered you the same as me," she smiles, moving to stand to her feet, standing before him and holding out her hands for him to take, wiggling her fingers in an enticing way, "come on, you. we might as well face the music."

"what do we tell them?"

"nothing if we don't want to say," she smiles and he takes her hands, and she uses all her strength to pull him to his feet, their fingers entwining together, "or, i don't know, we could just... take things slow this week? figure stuff out?"

he nods softly.

"i like that idea," he grins, dropping one hand from her hold but making sure to keep a tight grip of her other, swinging between them as they made their way back up the beach and back to where their table was located at the front of their restaurant, "reckon they'll leave us alone now?"

"god only knows," yn laughs, "we can only hope." xx

[kafkaesque22girlfriend]

The Damned Pt. 5

Toji Zenin! x fem! reader

Synopsis: forced to get in with the Zenin clan by your parents as a servant, Toji Zenin seemed to damn you more than himself….

mentions of sexy times :p

As day turned to night, all of your duties were attended to and now you felt your body beginning to relax these strange sensations Toji was giving you. The man was truly galling in every sense of the word, though you didn't want to think about it now. All you wanted to do now was shower and go to bed.

You enter the bathroom of your servant quarters, you try to turn the shower on but it doesn't work. You raised your eyebrow as you fiddled with the faucet again, but it just makes a janky noise and the water, comes out in unrhythmic spurts. You try and unjam the nozzle but your efforts were fruitless. You thought about not showering but then you'd feel all gross the next day. You thought about heading to the other servant quarters and use their shower but it was late and you didn't want to disturb anyone.

You only had one option left and that was Toji. You knew it would be awkward and weird but you had to grit your teeth and bare it. What kind of servant uses their master's shower? That's just...weird. Yet again, you shared a bed together…

Finding yourself at Toji's door with your towel, clothes and some toiletries- you knock on his door hesitantly, grimacing at the reaction you'll face.

The soft knock on Toji's door stopped him from his reading. He knew who it probably was, and in all honesty, he didn't want to deal with you at the moment. He didn't want to speak to you but here he was, taking a gamble with his own emotions and opening the door to find you standing there, so nervous in your stature.

"Yes?'

You were yanked out of your own head when you felt Toji's figure loom over, you swallowed as you blinked up at him. He was wearing that black compression shirt again...the one that clung to him like glue.

“Hey...I know this is weird and all...but my shower doesn't work and it probably won't be seen too until tomorrow night. Is it okay if I use yours this once?” You ask, grimacing a little.

Toji just glared at you, scowling a little at first but once you explained your situation, he didn't want to make this any worse than it was. “What about the other servant quaters?” He said lowly.

“Those are on the other side of the compound and I don't want to risk waking anyone up at this hour.” You said softly, hoping he would understand that this was a last case scenario.

As much as he wanted to ignore you right now, he decided to take the higher path and responded calmly and politely. “I uh...suppose I could let you. Just try and get it done quickly, I don't want to be disturbed any further, we clear?”

You sigh in relief, so damn thankful he wasn't making this any worse than it had to be. "Yes, of course... Thank you.” You give him a weak smile and Toji thought his knees would buckle if you did that again. He opened the door and let you in, closing it too.

You get into his bathroom and lock the door, just thankful that you could have a shower and feel clean for the next day ahead. Stripping naked, you turn the shower on, letting the water warm up in your palms as you get in. His shower was truly high class, but what else were you expecting? You wet your body and lather your hair with shampoo, letting the suds soak your hair as you rinse it off, taking in the soft apple scent. You eyed the body wash and shampoo that Toji had in his shower, intruiged, you picked it up to inspect it. It was expensive that's for sure, you hesistantly opened up his shampoo and it smelled...intoxicating. It was dark and heady, with hints of vanilla sweetness. For a moment you thought the shampoo was describing Toji directly. Pulling yourself away from your thoughts, you stepped out of the shower and dried yourself off.

Toji on the other hand couldn't focus on his book anymore since youinvaded him with your effervescent presence. He grunted to himself, hating the direction in which his thoughts were heading. Your body was naked in his shower, he wondered how the water glided from curve to curve, how your soft hands lathered your body in soap...Your breasts, your neck…inbetween your thighs. The mental image was truly captivating. Too bad he could never have it.

You finish dressing yourself in just a simple silk black nightdress, nothing too out of the ordinary. You open the door and the steam from the bathroom wafted in slightly, casting a glow to your silhouette as you exit the bathroom with a towel and other items in your hand. Toji's eyes were fixed on you entirely, part of him wanted to rub his bare eyeballs with his fists to make sure what he was seeing was in fact real. Your body was glistening under the dim light, your hair was still a little damp- it made Toji's breath instantly catch in his throat. What a fucking sight, it made him want to drool.

You stand there, smiling, staring at the ground then back at him, a light glow to you skin illuminating every facial feature. “Thank you for.. you know, the shower.” His gaze burned into you and you couldn't help the pink blush dusting on your cheeks.

Toji was looking at you and those words of yours caught him off gaurd, it was making him forget about the frustration he was harbouring before, now all he wanted to do was give in. To want to have an intimate moment with his own servant was so stupid...right?

Unable to fight his desire, he sat down on the edge of his bed and stared at his hands, not even looking at you anymore. “You look beautiful...Just wanted you to know that.” He stated coldly, that low voice of his reaching a new level of steely in just a matter of moments.

Your mouth fails you, the words simply wither and die out in your mouth. It felt like your heart sunk and your stomach did a backflip. You swallow thickly as it takes a few seconds to truly comprehend what he just said. He thought you were...beautiful? “I...uh... Thank you.” You gulp down your initial shock and breathlessly let out those words. “You really think that?”

Toji tilted his head and looked at you, raising an eyebrow. He slowly got up and stepped towards you, your heart hammering like an alarm as he stood in front of you. He was just so damn overwhelming, and what made everything even more frstrating was the fact you couldn't read him at all

You let out a sharp exhale when he tucks some of your hair behind your ear, that steely stone cold look still present on his face. “You should dry your hair properly, you'll get sick.” He clipped, and that just made you even more confused, it felt like your legs were about to collapse in on themselves. After a moment of silence as he watched those pretty pupils of yours dialete, he let his tongue slip. “You're so beautiful it's infuriating.” He muttered, playing with your hair even more, he especially enjoyed it when your breath hitched at his touch.

Your eyes shot open. “Are you saying that just to...flatter me?” You ask gently, glancing at the floor and then back up at his intense forest green eyes, darkening by the very second.

Toji frowned at that, seeming a bit irritated by your response. The way you acted with such disbelief at his obvious compliments made him made and even more turned on than before. That'a why he chose to respond back without being so nice anymore.

“No..I'm not. But you should be flattered. You should be happy.” He clipped before taking a breath. “It's impossible not to gawk at you...It's truly sickening. I want to fuck you...so badly. I want to see whats under this silk...”

He leans in and whispers hotly into your ear, his tone low and cold. You bit your lip at this influx of attention from him, his admissions taking their time to process through your brain. His hand rests on your hip, his fingers toying with the hem of your nightdress. God, you smell like plenty, like longing. Like a fresh apple orchard. “I want to know how you taste...if you taste as sweet as you sound, as you look.” He breathed, his voice becoming more and more husky as he felt your body twitch under his thumb.

“I want it...I want to feel you. I need you to let me.”

-

sorry for the lil break!

the smut i have cooked next chapter is simply delicious omg

Taglist (mwah!) @wo-ming-bai @xduskydollx @chilichopsticks @maskedpacific @kaizxnx @gojoslefttoenail @idreamitski @miraes-world @misscats-mha

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 20 all chapters

gif credit to dilfgifs

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-You try to go as long as you can, but later that night you decide you just can’t stand it anymore. You’re pretty sure it’s been days, and you feel gross.

“Can I…use your shower?”

He turns to you with a small smile. “You mean, our shower? Yes.”

Hoping that’s the end of it, and this exchange won’t get weird, you slip out from under his arm to go into the bathroom. You check your prospects, finding expensive shampoo, conditioner, bodywash, shaving gel…but no razor. You guess you get it, kind of, but really. Then again, maybe you'd better not ask. Why send mixed signals by shaving off your body hair? It’s just an aesthetic mostly catering to the male gaze anyway…

But it bugs you.

You pop your head back out of the door. “Razor?”

He doesn’t even look up from his book.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

This annoys you for some reason. “Just so you know, I am not going to try to kill myself.” Brave words for someone in your situation, but at least at the moment, you mean them.

“I was more worried you might try to kill me.”

You open your mouth again, until he fixes you with that laser-like stare. “Just take your shower, y/n, or do I have to come in there to help you?”

The thought of his large hands on your body slick with soap sends an inconvenient spear of desire straight to your center.

“No.”

You disappear fast as a groundhog into its burrow, closing the door behind you.

“Door open!” he yells in that particular tone, and sensing the shift in his mood, you comply rather than pull his tail some more.

Well done, you, you chide yourself as you strip out of your dirty dress and your ACE bandage in the cavernous shower. He was actually in a good mood, somehow, after you tried to knock his head off with a book. And now you…what? You did something to piss him off, at least a little bit.

Learning his moods was going to take some doing.

It was the only way you were getting out of here alive.

You keep looking over your shoulder, half expecting to see him looming behind you. That man moves silent as a ghost when he feels like it.

It’s creepy. And…kind of hot, if you’re being honest, but that is not a helpful thought.

You feel a thousand times better with all the grime washed from your hair and your body. You wrap yourself in a big fluffy towel that feels like a cloud on your skin, and put off going into the bedroom by drying your hair.

There are products on the sink that you use, face lotions and hair creams, and more expensive versions of the same type that you could never afford. How did he know?

Then again, he has fucking gorgeous hair, he probably knows more about styling product than you do.   

You turn to look at his handiwork upon your bum. The bruise is a red and purple swirl nearly the size of your fist. You can actually see the neat lines of his teeth marks. “Jesus Christ.”

His eye was going to heal way before that was.

When you can’t really dawdle in the bathroom anymore, you war with the next conundrum.

Fresh clothes.

Fuck it. You march out, heading for the closet without making eye contact with the reclining leopard on the bed. You can feel his eyes on you, and fuck if it doesn’t turn you on to be watched like that. Like you are some kind of prize to be desired.

It feels utterly insane to you, to say the least. You’re not that beautiful, but he looks at you like you’re Helen of Troy.  

With your hand on the closet door John clears his throat pointedly.

You know you can’t ignore him. Risking his wrath while you’re wrapped in nothing but a bath towel is so not a good idea.

You turn to find he’s laid something out at the foot of the bed for you already.

“Wear this,” he says. It’s an order clothed in velvet. Polite, but…you sense the unyielding directive underneath.

You pad on bare feet to the foot of the bed. It’s a silky lavender nightie with lace at the bodice. Nothing too wacky. No embarrassing peep holes or extraneous straps. You are somewhat relieved.

Until you see the underwear he’s paired with them.

Your underwear, as a matter of fact.   

Those went missing a long time ago.

Speechless, you look to him, knowing you look like a fish out of water but unsure what to say.

This has been going on for way longer than you even knew, and you didn’t have a clue.

“You took these from my apartment.” You manage not to yell it.

“I didn’t want you to wear them for anyone but me.” He has the cheek to sound grouchy about it, like you did something wrong.

You feel your temper rising like the mercury in a thermometer. You know you’re going to say something stupid, but you just don’t know how to keep it in.

“How. Fucking. Dare you?”

He just sighs, like he already knows how this is going to go. “Don’t play this game with me, baby.”

You bite down on the impulse to demand he not call you baby.

“You could have just…asked me out. I would have said yes, you know?”

He actually looks away as you tell him this.

“Maybe you would have. Until you realized I’m just a bitter old man, and you would have left me.”

You blink at that. How can he be so smart, and yet so blind?

“I knew you were a bitter old man all along! But you know what? I liked you anyway. I thought you were interesting, and funny, and so fucking handsome, and I wanted to fuck you. But now…” You clench your fists, shaking with all the vitriol you know you can’t unleash on this unpredictable man.

This unpredictable killer.

He takes your fury, seemingly nonplussed. You’re not sure any of it registers at all, and it takes some of the wind out of your sails. “This isn’t love, John,” you say quietly, your throat tightening with every syllable. “Love is…having the courage to bare your heart to the sword, and take what comes. You can’t control it like this.”

He tilts his head at this, a wave of that lovely dark hair covering his face. You get the feeling like he’s hiding from you, when he does that.

Finally he asks, “Have you ever been stabbed, y/n?”

Your heart skips a beat, as you wonder if he’s threatening you. “No.”

“Well let me tell you. It fucking hurts.”

Then he reaches down the bed to pluck up the panties, sticking them in his pocket. “I guess I’ll just keep these. You’re not going to need them anyway.”

You glare daggers at him.

He offers you the slightest, smuggest, smile.

“You sonofabitch.”

“Watch that mouth, kitten. Unless you want me to fill it up with something else.”

You bare your teeth with the thought. “I fucking dare you,” you spit, snatching up the nightie to take it to the bathroom to change.

“Nuh uh,” he interjects. “Change here.”

You freeze in your tracks, understanding exactly what he’s demanding of you.

This is how it’s going to be, you tell yourself. He’s going to be sweet, and then he’s going to be insufferable, and if you’re not careful, he’ll get downright mean. Don’t be fooled by the sweet moods, because all the rest is just beneath the surface waiting.

It was so hard to remind yourself of that, when he was being good to you.

You don’t turn around. You moonlighted as a drawing model after college. You can handle this, right? He’s already seen parts of you anyway…

It’s soooooooooo much different than being in that classroom, when you undo your towel and let it fall to the floor. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your bare form. In the end, knowing it’s just your backside, that he’s already gotten way more than an eyeful of…doesn’t really help. With shaking hands you quickly you pull the nightie over your head.

You hope he feels guilty about the size of that fucking bruise, but you have a feeling he probably likes seeing his marks on you.

“Come here.” He practically purrs, and your flesh aches for the sound. Fuck.

You turn to face him, but do not move. Once again, that glorious boner is making an appearance. It’s almost flattering, how often this man has a hard-on when he’s around you. If this had been a normal relationship, you would have made it your mission to oblige him at every opportunity, just to see what the old man could take.

As it is…all you want to do is fight him, and you know you are destined to lose.

He pats his thigh, as though he expects you to sit on his lap. Without underwear. Or a bra. Or a sense of self-preservation.

You shake your head no with the glitter of moisture in the corners of your eyes. You’ve never felt so helpless in your life, and you hate it.

 He frowns at your defiance. My god, no one can do a forbidding frown, like Mr. John Wick. It lodges your heart in your throat, even while you find him magnificent.

“Are you going to make me make you?”

And there it is.

You sigh, and you feel like a piece of your soul exits your body. Good. Good, be empty. He can’t hurt an empty husk.

“I guess so.”

You close your eyes, and you wait. You wait for his rough hands, for the violence that is surely coming to you. You shake like a leaf, unable to stop. You don't know why you'd allowed yourself to hold out some hope, that maybe he really wasn't going to hurt you.

Yet, it does not come.

You open your eyes to find him still frowning at you. He hasn’t moved a muscle.

The longest three seconds of your life tick by. You count them in your thundering heartbeats, and then he scoots over on the bed. “Fine. Come lay by me then.”

You are shocked to your toes. You forget how to move. 

“Now.” He snaps his fingers, pointing to the bed beside him, and you scurry over before he loses his patience with this kinder offer. Cautiously you crawl up beside him, and when he holds up his arm you understand the cue, snuggling into his side with your head on his shoulder. 

Alright, this, you can do. 

This feels almost…normal. The way your head fits into the divot of his shoulder is just…divine, if you’re being honest, and your body shudders as you suppress a sob, hiding your face against his chest. It’s not fair, that you still want him so much, and you mourn for the promise of sweetness that was snatched from your table before you ever really got a chance to taste it.

“Shh,” he soothes, touching your hair, his big hand dwarfing the crown of your head. “I’ll try to remember to be patient with you.”

You nod against him, wanting to believe him, knowing that makes you a sad little fool.

“But my patience has its limits. Remember that, kitten.”

Oh. You weren’t going to forget.

He continues to hold you, and eventually your heart slows, the tension in your body finally relaxing.

It’s incredible, really, how you just can’t leave well enough alone.

Now that you’ve both calmed, you feel bold enough to ask, “John?”

“Yeah, baby?” His lips on the top of your head make your eyelids flutter, it’s so sweet.

“Do you…at least know that it was wrong, to break into my apartment?” You feel like the answer to this one question will help you gauge everything about his state of mind.

He is silent for a long time. Long enough to let your imagination run rampant with the things he might do to punish you for this impertinence, after he was so generous as to just let you lay down with him and snuggle.

Yet there’s no anger in his voice when he answers, “Yeah. But I’ve been breaking the law my whole life, sweetheart, and no one’s stopped me yet.”

It’s the truth, and a nice neat little warning, all wrapped up in one.

You should be scared again, but you just sigh against his chest. Maybe you’ve used up whatever hormone is responsible for adequate fear responses for the day. Or maybe…his games are working on you already, claiming your sanity inch by inch.

You lay there in his arms, and eventually you start to doze. He strokes your hair, a sweet and lulling touch that makes you curl your toes. When those featherlight fingertips find their way to the back of your neck, and the tops of your shoulders, you cannot help but squirm. In your half-asleep state, this is your kryptonite, and your leg tangles with his, your pelvis pressing against his hip. It feels like the most natural thing in the world, to crane your head towards him.

Only when you feel him shift to lean towards you for a kiss, do you realize what you are doing.

You turn your head at the last second, and his grip on you tightens from comforting to bruising in a nanosecond. “Wait—”

He has you on your back before you can blink.

 “Are we still pretending you don’t want me, kitten?”

“I…”

Suddenly his hand is between your legs, manhandling you like he owns you, raking up your thigh to swipe at your folds. He finds you soaking wet with slick, of course, and he makes a point to press your clit with his thick fingers as he withdraws. It sends an agonizing jolt of desire spreading through the cradle of your hips, the ache in your stupid little cunt nigh unbearable. You hardly recognize the keening sound that escapes your mouth.

Was that you?

It worsens ten-fold as you watch him bring his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean. “Tastes like lies to me.”

Goddammit.

“John…”

You can hardly believe it, when he slides off of the bed, leaving you cold and alone, confused and filled with desire. The pulsing ache between your legs drowns out any rational thoughts you might have had a moment ago.

“Little liars don’t get to cum. I’ll let you think about that tonight.”

You feel like you did that night in Italy, watching him walk out the door when all you really want is to feel his thick, insatiable cock teeming inside you.

Which is fucking insane, of course.

And you were thinking he might be the crazy one?

 “Same rules, sweetheart. Don’t you dare touch yourself tonight. I’ll fucking know.”

With one last baleful look over of his shoulder he touches his hand to the lock, and sweeps out of the room. He leaves you stunned on the bed, disheveled and unsure, once again, of what the fuck just happened?

[jermer10]

(I'm new here so if you have done this already, MB) could you write heavy x reader when reader finds heavys clothes and wears them and heavy catches them?? I would like reader to be gender neutral or female and it can lead to NSFW if you want it too 🥴 thank you (ignore if needed) 💛💛💛

TF2 sweater weather | heavy x reader

18+ only, afab reader | i fucking LOVE heavy

drabbles under the cut :P

Every merc had a designated job in order to keep the barracks clean, and yours happened to be the bathrooms. You absolutely hated this job. Ten mercs living under one roof where 90% of you were men? Yeah, those bathrooms were feral, and after having to scrub them clean 2 times a week for months, you were beginning to grow exhausted. So when Medic offered to swap the laundry job with you for a week, you took full advantage of his generosity. You had no idea how much laundry 10 mercs produced in the span of a week. The first night is when you saw Misha's sweater in the dryer. It was massive, the biggest piece of clothing you had ever seen, red and adorned with black stripes and diamonds across the chest. It smelt of washing detergent, the musk of old clothing, and a hint of the lemongrass cologne he had been wearing that hadn't been washed out in the machine.

This wasn't the first time you had seen the sweater, in fact he wore it often during the colder months, but it was the first time you had it in your hands, the first time you were able to smell it up close, the first time you were able to feel the plush fabric scrunched up in your fists. You felt dizzy, face flushing in both embarrassment and lust. Your crush on the older man had not gone unnoticed by him, and his small advances had done nothing to aid the sticky wetness which gathered in your underwear whenever he had gotten too close. You closed your eyes, breathing in the scent of him, hands inching to the waistband of your shorts.

"YO! MEDIC! I NEED SOME UNDERWEAR!" A voice boomed from the entrance to the laundry. You snapped out of your trance, and threw the sweater back into the laundry basket. Scout came swiftly around the corner, towel wrapped around his lanky hips. "Oh! Uhh, hey y/n." He grinned, blush dusting his cheeks. "Hey man, underwear is in the basket. I'm not finished sorting through them yet so you'll have to search for 'em." He nodded, scavenging through the clothes. 'I need to get my shit together, that was so gross..' you thought, the blood rushing to your face once more as you began to toss the dirty clothes into the washing machine.

Night three you had seen the sweater again, and this time it was in the dirty basket. You couldn't help the perverse thoughts, gingerly picking the piece of clothing and setting it aside. You figured you could get a couple of loads on before washing it with the last of the clothing, then you would have adequate time to...do what you needed. It was dirty, the way you continued to glance over at it even after you had resigned yourself to doing your job. You needed to smell it, the blood entrenched in the fibers of the fabric, the lemongrass stench that you could pick up from across the spacious room, the smell of Heavy, his natural odor alone set you off.

"Fuck," You breathed out, feeing your fingers slide into your pants as you held the sweater to your face. You could cum there and then, imagining him as the person touching you. It wasn't enough, you needed to wear the sweater. You needed to feel him wrapped around you. It slid over your head with ease, the sleeves far too large, the bottom hem of the sweater reaching well below your knees. You came hard, muffled noises of moans as you shoved your face into the bunched up fabric. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" You clasped your face in your hands.

It was Sunday, the final day of washing clothes before you would have to go back to the bathrooms. The week had been slow, and you were certain Misha had picked up the change in your behavior. You were skittish, face red whenever you saw him, and whenever you saw him swearing that god forsaken sweater you couldn't even bare to stay in the same room as him for longer than a minute. That fucking sweater. Sitting clean, in the dryer, waiting, no, begging, for you to put it on. You obliged, slipping into the cloth eagerly. You stood there for a moment, smelling the fabric, taking it in. This was the last time you would get to do this. The last- "What are you doing?" You heard the thick Russian accent of the man behind you before you even heard what he had said.

You couldn't even look at him. You didn't have to, you could hear his menacing footsteps walk up to you, and then you felt his large hands grasp your hips. You couldn't help but gasp at the sensation. "Heavy has been waiting for opportunity like this. This is why you have been so scared of Heavy hmm?" His tone was hot, heavy, and laced with false concern. "Uhh, yeah I guess." You mumbled awkwardly. He laughed, a deep, hearty laugh that made your knees weak and your eyes squeeze close. "Come, little голубь." You felt yourself being lifted into the air and placed on the folding bench in front of the machines.

Heavy stripped your shorts from you, leaving no time for you to process his actions before your bottom half was completely naked. "Heavy came here to talk, but fucking you will get point across much quicker." He grinned, a lovestruck, sadistic grin. If you had been wet before, you were soaked now. He knelt down face lined up with your sobbing pussy, his tongue prodding at your entrance before his mouth absorbed your sex. "Ohhhhh fuuuuuuckkkkk" The moan drawls from your throat, its raw and guttural. Your body writhes and shakes under his gentle touch.

His tongue snakes it's way onto your clit, gently sucking and prodding at it with his lips. You're getting close, your fingers gripped onto his face, pulling him in closer, begging for release. He pulls away, and before you can produce a whine of protest, he pushes his index finger into you. It's enough to stretch you, to fill you up completely. He thrusts his finger in twice, placing his mouth back onto your pussy, and you cum hard. He pulls away licking his fingers clean, you're a heaving whining mess. "Wear Heavy's clothes more often." He states simply, standing up and smacking your ass before kissing you passionately and walking out. You should swap jobs with Medic more often.