#this is pure crack I know they would never

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

@ratadediamante tagged me in this, soo…..

Head canons of our favourite ship’s morning routine: married edition✨

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• lyra’s and grayson’s jobs start at different times, with graysons starting earlier and lyras starting later, but grayson always makes sure to kiss her every morning before he leaves, and even make her breakfast if he has the time. sometimes, he’ll even take photos of her if she looks especially cute while sleeping :))

• but some days, lyra insists at waking up at the same time as grayson. the first time, she figured that it will be a cute, bonding time between her and her husband. she was wrong.

• grayson woke lyra up at 5:00 in the morning, and she grumbled while getting dressed, grumbled while brushing her teeth, and grumbled while doing her makeup. grayson secretly recorded the parts where she was turned away from him, and it was hilarious how mad she looked. eventually, grayson decided that he would wake up at 6 instead of 5, and now the couple wakes up together most days.

• these more present days, lyra is first to wake up, as her husband is a more deep sleeper, and wakes him up with kisses all over his face. grayson never told anyone this and never will, but some days he wakes up before the alarm he sets, yet he pretends to be asleep so that he can be “woken up” by lyras kisses. 🤭🤭

• despite lyras enthusiastic way of waking grayson up, she always insists on the two of them staying in bed for longer, to which grayson spends the next 5 minutes convincing her to get up. some days, if she gets too tired, he quite literally has to carry her out of bed. sometimes lyra feels too lazy to walk, so she argues with him on purpose, just so he can carry her into their walk in closet and she can get dressed. 😭☠️

• not every day, but some days, grayson will go for a quick morning swim, and lyra likes to tag along sometimes. she usually just ends up dipping her feet in the pool while sitting in silence, (bc she believes its therapeutic 😭😭) but other times she’ll read a book, or just tell her husband to swim closer so that she can chat with him.

• when they’re FINALLY in their walk in closet getting ready for the day, (bc i know they have one for their mass amounts of clothing) they always require opinions from each other on what to wear. lyra always has doubts on which top matches her skirt/pants the best, and grayson loves having her opinion on which suit style/colour would be the best for that day. sometimes lyra talks him out of wearing his suit jacket if it’s hot that day, and once she even convinced him to wear a nice t shirt and pants to the office for work. let’s just say, history was made that day.

• grayson never has too much time to get ready in the morning because his job starts earlier, but lyra always makes sure to play music while they brush their teeth/do their morning routines in the bathroom. she’s been doing it ever since they moved out, and every day they play different playlists. one playlist is adhered more to lyras taste, and the other is more of graysons kind of music.

• for MONTHS after they got married, lyra would spend most of her time getting ready in the bathroom just staring at her ring, and grayson has caught her doing it so many times. he finds it so cute and is so glad that she liked her ring (and her marriage 😏) so much. once her facial cream kept getting stuck in the cracks of her ring, so she took it off just to rub it on her skin. but the mournful look she was giving her ring on the counter made grayson believe for a moment that an eagle would swoop in from the bathroom window and snatch it away right before her eyes. he teased her about it, and she didn’t even care. her ring was pure treasure to her, and everyone knew it.

• once they’re out of the bathroom and lyra is all done with her makeup, the two are headed straight to the kitchen. normally grayson would head out with a coffee and not a second thought about getting a good meal, but after marriage, things change. and he had gotten so many talks from lyra and her mother about how breakfast was the most important meal of the day, that’s he’s finally given in and makes it a priority every morning. lyra herself didn’t even prioritize it, but after finally deciding that she was done with her extra grogginess in the morning, she made it a habit to always make grayson and her eat breakfast together. neither of them are skilled cooks, but lyra is amazing at making breakfast foods that her mom/stepdad used to make for her all the time, and grayson loves them + how happy she is while cooking them.

• other times though, they’ll be too lazy to cook breakfast, or just want something nicer, and just drive out to a diner instead. they have one near their house + both their workplaces that they really like, so they go there every time. they both find the place so peaceful and beautiful, and sometimes, if they’re both too tired or upset or however they may feel in the morning to talk, they sit on the same side of the booth and lyra lays her head on graysons shoulder. they know that they love each other so much, and sometimes, they just want to love each other in silence.

• after breakfast, grayson drives her to her place of work, and they make conversation along the way. gossip they heard from people they know, their dreams of the future, or even something that hasn’t been able to leave their mind. lyra usually is the one talking graysons ear off on the way to work, as after all her grumbling and groaning in the morning she suddenly feels productive on the car ride there, and grayson just listens with a smile. there’s nothing that he wouldn’t listen to as long as it came out of his wife’s mouth.

• when grayson drops her off, he gives her a lunch that he packed her in the morning, or that she packed for herself the night before. but, on days where lyra forgot to pack her lunch and grayson “forgot” to pack his too, he promises to pick her up for lunch to take her out. he then, for those days that he gets to see her for lunch, leaves with a smile, knowing that he has one more good thing to look forward to in his day.

EXTRA: married lyragrayson morning routine after a (very rare) bad fight :(( (this one is more of a rare situation as they don’t really ever get into bad fights, so that’s why the writing looks more like a fic than headcanons (bc i didn’t wanna say “usually” they do this or “typically” they do that as it’s uncommon for them to be fighting in the first place LOL))

• lyra wakes up on her bed, feeling cold and dull and wondering why, before turning around and realizing he wasn’t behind her. lyra is confused, but only for a moment, before her fatigue-riddled mind finally remembers that she sent him off to sleep on the couch last night. a numb feeling overtook her, and she got the sick sensation in her throat that she was going to start crying. except lyra wasn’t going to start crying, because she’d spent all last night sobbing into her pillow anyway.

• getting up, she kicked her feet off the side of her bed, her tired brain trying to process what to do next. where was grayson? what does a wife do after her first big fight with her husband? maybe people were right about the honeymoon phase, and all that was good before was gone. she looked at the ring in her hand, and after minutes of numb eyes staring, took it off. it was only for a moment, but the look of her empty ring finger and it sitting discarded on her bedside table made her feel guilty enough to put it back on.

• finally getting up, lyra decides that what’s done is done and she has to get started with her day. surprising to no one, she has a pounding head ache from all the crying she had been doing the night before. lyra walks into her closet and puts on a pair of clothes, the pair that had been rotting in the back of her closet because they’re as dull as lyra feels. perfect.

• walking over to her bathroom, lyra slides open the sliding door, and sees him. the suit he was wearing enunciated his muscles, and lyra hated that she couldn’t tear his eyes away from his broad shoulders and biceps. once she snaps out of it, she immediately backs away when she sees grayson getting ready, but he turns around, calling her name. still, she’s walking away when she feels two hands wrap around her waist and spin her around. grayson is again face to face with her.

• he immediately apologizes for his actions, having more patience and less pettiness than lyra, and explains them. but lyra still has a bad taste in her mouth from the fight. she refuses to meet his gaze, scoffing at his words. unfortunately, she forgot that grayson could also be rather stubborn. every time she cast her gaze else where, he would always gently take hold of the top of her neck with his fingers on her jaw and move her head to look at him again. of course, lyra did feel bad, but a part of her knew that the fight mainly wasn’t her fault. it was one of graysons problems that started it.

• once he’s done his apology speech, lyra just walks past him and into the bathroom, eager to just get ready and get this over with. unfortunately, grayson wasn’t going to stop trying that quickly. he followed her everywhere: the bathroom, the vanity, the kitchen, always at least a foot behind her as she walked. and lyra was done. she whipped her head around and demanded him to explain to her the point of the fight last night. grayson replied gently, but she could see that she was testing his patience. lyra mulled on his answer before stomping off to the kitchen, and opening her fridge door. pulling enough food for two out, she started cooking. after making 4 french toasts with sausages on the side, she puts it on two plates and puts them both on the island by the two chairs they had there. grayson, however, was making coffee, and when he placed lyras cup by her plate, she tasted it and immediately scowled. it was annoyingly just how she liked it.

• grayson and her ate in silence, but after graysons stares were becoming excruciating, she turned to him with a stone cold look on his face.

• “what?” she asked, bluntly.

• “did you not sleep well last night?” he asked her.

• she scoffed. “no, i was too busy crying to get any sleeping done.”

• she hates that she knew her husband so well in this moment, because when she said it, she knew exactly how he would react. which, for all of lyras fake bluntness, was what she wanted. with his eyes softening at lyras reply, grayson immediately stood up, picking lyra up from her chair and pulling her into an embrace. she couldn’t act harshly to her husband anymore. not after he set her feet back down on the ground and stroked her hair, murmuring apologies and “i love you”’s. he covered the crown of her head with soft kisses, and when lyra turned her head up to look at him with gentle eyes, he covered her face in kisses too, getting a laugh out of lyra as she whacked his arm in protest.

• the rest of the day goes smoothly, as when arguments do happen between the couple, they end before the two can leave the house. grayson puts hers and his coffee in a two go cup when they see the time, and leave the house holding hands. grayson drives, and although it takes them a minute, conversation is already starting up again. grayson leaves one of his hands out, and lyra, absentmindedly, starts tracing the lines of his hand while talking. grayson smiles at the fact that she didn’t even really notice she was doing it.

• once he drops lyra off in front of her workplace, he gets out of the car to open the door for lyra. after lyra gets out of the car, grayson immediately traps her in a passionate kiss, only stopping once lyra murmurs against his lips that she’s going to be late. he separates from her lips and strokes her dark hair as he did earlier, whispering to her how beautiful she is and how lucky he is to have a wife as special as her. lyra blushes, and begins to whisper a multitude of apologies about the fight back to him, but he just kisses her to stop her. he knows that she actually is going to be late if he keeps holding on to her, so he lets go of her waist and gives her a quick goodbye peck. lyra returns it and walks off, her head ache gone along with each and every single one of her worries.

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ummmm these ended up being so much longer than i thought they would, but OMG i just loved writing lyrason as a married couple so much!!! it just healed something in me calling them husband and wife, and i honestly need them to get married STAT bc i love them both too much 😭💗💗

[lockes-woods]

7: A Reptile and Bird's Beloved

Day 7 of Locke's 10-day countdown to the new year!

Prompt: Crocodile x reader x Nico Robin

o Sir/mistress kink

o Found Family

Requested by: @nocturnalrorobin

Warning: Sir Kink, Mistress Kink, Oral, Creampie, Doggy Style, Large Cock, Size Difference

A/N: So this one kinda got away from me. I was too busy writing it to notice it's almost 3,000 words. Hopefully, they're not too OOC; it's my first time writing for Crocodile and only second for Robin. I gotta go to work so I'll do a more thorough edit later today. I hope you enjoy ^-^

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You couldn’t help but let a sigh escape you as you sat curled up in the plush chair in your reading nook in the early hours of Christmas morning. Your focus is locked on the freshly fallen snow. The turret you sat in gave the perfect view of the large park across the street. It was still pure and untouched by the neighborhood children. While this was your least favorite time of year even you could admire the beauty of the thick blanket of white covering everything in sight; well almost everything. Despite the hour all the walkways, driveways, and streets had already been plowed; at this point, you expected no less for the most expensive neighborhood in the city you called home. Despite being in a relationship with two of the most powerful people in the city for the better part of the last year you still felt an air of unease from the contrast of your new life and your humble beginnings.

What had started as a sugar baby-like relationship last February had transformed into an exclusive romantic relationship between Sir Crocodile, Nico Robin, and yourself. You met at a gala where you were working as entertainment for the city’s top 1% as a harpist. It was at the gala where the two business partners struck up a deal. After both showing interest in you, they met you with a calculated proposition to satisfy both of their needs. While they had contracted you together your time with them was almost only spent on one-on-one dates, dinners, and sex. While shared dinners and dates were less common, the least common interaction between the two was during sex; both were too dominant and possessive to share you in that setting. Despite it almost being a year into the relationship you felt like you had just begun to scratch the surface of the complicated depths of their partnership.

While you still maintained an allowance from both of your partners, the contractual part of your relationship had devolved over the summer. You were now in an exclusive romantic relationship. While the change may seem subtle you were given more freedom. You were able to make more requests and the ability to veto certain decisions; along with a prenup-like contractional agreement that entitled you to a hefty severance pay at your discretion of never sharing any of the two’s personal information. While you normally rarely used your veto, you had been using it generously since Thanksgiving.

The one positive of your complex relationship with them was that they had more important things to discuss outside of you, letting your behavior slip through the cracks. You told yourself it was because you didn’t want to worry them, but on some level, you knew you were being self-destructive. You tried to rally, you really did, but it was no use. It felt like you were cursed to be plagued by the bad memories that possessed you every holiday season. You knew the feeling would be gone by the new year, you just had to rough it out for a few more days.

You snapped out of your train of thought as three hard knocks sounded from your closed bedroom door. Based on the power of the knock alone you knew it was Crocodile on the other side. Knowing he wasn’t fond of waiting you tossed your blanket aside and made the quick walk across the heated floors to your door. You paused before opening it, glancing down at your clothing. You were only clad in one of Crocodile’s undershirts and a pair of cheeky-cut panties. Robin preferred you in layered clothing, not only for the time of year but also so they could tease you by undressing you at an agonizingly slow pace. Though he’d never admit it you knew Crocodile liked to know you were comfortable. Sure, the businessman loved to bathe you in expensive clothing and jewelry in public, but in private he was most concerned with your comfort. You had easily picked up on this when, the morning after wearing lingerie for him you were gifted with an anonymously delivered package of comfy loungewear back before you moved in. You considered throwing some real clothing on before another harsh knock rang out.

You swallowed nervously as you opened the door, eyes widening at the sight of both of your partners waiting for you.

“Hey?” you said, more as a question rather than a greeting.

“Hello love,” Robin greeted, pressing a brief kiss to your forehead, before walking into your room. You quickly stepped aside, allowing Crocodile the room needed to enter your bedroom. He gave you a neutral look as he ducked under the doorway and shut the door behind him. You could feel your heart palpitate at the lack of a cigar sandwich between his lips. He was rarely without one while home. The only times you’ve seen him without one was during sex and even then, he’s smoked contently while you’re going down on him. Robin leaned against one of the posts of your bed, while Crocodile sat on the foot of your obscenely large bed; the only thing he required for your room. You brace yourself against your desk, you could feel your nerves rising in your stomach as you were met with their unwavering gazes. Crocodile crossed his arms across his chest, before addressing you.

“Do you know why we’re here, Darling?” he asked.

“No?” you responded, as you wracked your brain for possible reasons that would concern both of them. Sure, you missed a couple of outings, but nothing that would concern both of them to the extent of coming to your room in the middle of the night.

“We were chatting at the office holiday party, and we both came to the realization that neither of us has been able to take you out on a date since November,” Robin stated, filling you in. You furrowed your brow in confusion; not because you didn’t understand her statement, but rather because you’d never pictured them talking about you in their free time.

 “You’ve rejected all of our plans. No ice staking, skiing, or Christmas markets,” Crocodile started,

“You’ve only had sex with us a handful of times,” Robin added,

“And neither of us have heard you play your harp.” Crocodile stated, “To make a long story short we were wondering if there was someone else taking your precious time away from us.”

“What? No!,” you answered quickly, eyes darting from one to the other.

“Then what is it? Robin asked, in a neutral tone, “You’ve been withdrawn and on edge the whole month; do you want to end our arrangement?”

“No,” you answered quickly, “I-It’s just this time of year is really hard on me,”

Her gaze softened at your omission, while Crocodile’s stayed neutral you could tell he was listening by the slight tilt of his head.

“It just this time of year brings up a lot of old emotions. I went no contact with my mom 10 years ago; when I did have contact with her Christmas was always about her and the sacrifice she made so that I could have a ‘good’ Christmas. On top of that within my immediate family, I always felt like an ‘other’ like I’d never fit in. It was always very isolating for me.”  

“So, you isolate out of habit?” Robin asked softly, walking over to you to hold your hand supportively.

“I guess?” you answered, battling your emotions to stay at bay, at least until they leave. Despite your best efforts a few stray tears did manage to fall. Before you could wipe them away, Robin gently cupped your face and brushed away your tears as they fell. Once you reached equilibrium again your hand came to cup the outside of hers.

“Not to speak for both of us, but I for one would be honored to make new happy memories with you,” Robin said, gazing down at you softly. You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your libs.

“Would you like that darling?” Crocodile’s smooth deep voice rang out throughout your bedroom. The bed groaned as he stood up to his over 8-foot hulking stature, “We could vacation anywhere you want until the new year,”

“Perhaps somewhere tropical, to get you out of the cold,” Robin suggested.

“You’re only suggesting that to show our girl off in a bikini,” Crocodile accused, in a light tone, well as light as his tone can go.

“I don’t see why both can’t be true,” Robin replied, a quirk forming on her lips, “I also never said we wouldn’t be going to a nude beach, they’re quite popular abroad.” She finished, winking at you. Crocodile grunted in response, giving Robin a stern look.

“I’m just joking Crocodile,” Robin reassured, looking up at him, “I know how possessive you are of our girl.”

“If we did go to a nude beach there would be no tan lines,” You added, looking up at Sir Crocodile, through your eyelashes. You had learned in the past year that despite his imposing form, he was never able to resist your puppy dog eyes. The businessman grunted once again, looking away with a slight tinge of red coloring his cheekbones.

“I suppose that would be okay if done at a private residence.” He conceded. You and Robin shared a grin. Your spirit felt lighter than it had been all month.

“I’ll have my assistant send over some options for you to pick from,” he added.

“Now that that has been settled, how would you like to spend Christmas morning?” Robin asked, gazing down at you lovingly. “There are plenty of presents under the tree for you, love.”

“Could we stay here?”, you asked hesitantly.

“Of course, love, what were you thinking of doing? Or rather who were you thinking of doing?” She asked in a teasing tone and a knowing look. You could feel your face begin to warm under her gaze.

“I’m not sure,” you answered honestly, “I know you both hate sharing, but I don’t want to leave either of you out.”

Your partners had a silent conversation over your head, both of them easily towering over you.

“I suppose we could make an exception this one time,” Crocodile conceded, from behind you.

“How would you like us love?” Robin asked, gazing down at you fondly.

“I-”, you started hesitantly, both of your partner’s attentions drawn solely on you. You cleared your throat before trying again, “Can I eat you out, while Sir fucks me?”

“Are you sure baby? Today’s about you,” Robin asked.

“Please”, you asked looking up at her, trying to not seem as desperate as you felt.

“Oh? Is my little flower feeling needy?” she asked teasing, only making your face warm more, “You like making your Mistress feel good?”

“Yes,” you answered quickly. Too on edge to pretend to be coy. She smirked down at you before pulling you in for a loving kiss. A whine escaped you at the feeling of crocodile’s right arm wrapping around your middle as he braced you against him. Before you could process what was going on, a gasp escaped you as his cold metal hook sliced down the middle of your, well his, shirt. Leaving you in the bare outside of your panties. Robin took advantage of your open mouth to dominate the kiss. Crocodile then pulled whine from deep in your throat as his right hand skirted down your front finding its way into your panties. You moaned as he went from gently stroking your seam to prodding at your entrance with one of his massive fingers.

A needy whine left you as Robin pulled back, before turning her attention onto marking your neck. She listened patiently to any noises you’d release. She immediately zeroed in after you let out a gasp, before sucking on your sensitive skin. She let out a satisfied hum at the hickey now blooming on your neck before moving down to your chest. All you could do was enjoy the sensation your partners were pulling from you as you stood prone between them. You shamelessly moaned as Crocodile worked in a third finger, grinding desperately against his palm. Simultaneously Robin sucked one of your nipples into her mouth while teasing the other one. You could feel yourself rapidly approaching your limit.

“Fuck,” you moaned, “Can I cum? Please Sir,” you begged, as he worked in a fourth finger. You were both physically and emotionally at your limit; the coil in your tightening to a severe extent.

“Go ahead love,” He encouraged, “Be a good girl and make a mess,”

Nothing could stop you as you writhed between your two lovers, moaning loud enough for the whole block to hear. Your release splashed between them as you squirted all over Crocodile’s hand. He kept you braced against him as you came down from your high.

“Good girl,” Robin purred in your ear as you fell slack against Croc.

“Can I taste you please?” You asked, Robin once you had fully come back into your body, whining at the sensation of Sir easing his fingers out of you.

“Of course, love.” She answered, taking a step back, Crocodile cradled you in his arms, carrying you over to the bed, before gently placing you down in the middle. A needy whine escaped you as he peeled off your soaked underwear, tucking them into his pocket before he began to undress. The slight groan of the bed alerted you to Robin’s presence above you. You flipped over, breath catching in your throat at the sight of her bare form. You would never get tired of the beauty that is your Mistress. You shared a brief kiss before you made your way down her body, making sure to give attention to her neck, nipples, and thighs as you kissed your way down to her core. You bit your lip to contain a groan at the sight of her bare cunt. You let out a gasp, momentarily pulled away from your fixation on your Mistress as Crocodile’s large hand pressed firmly down between your shoulder blades, encouraging you to arch your back. You shared a moan with your Sir as the head of his cock breached your entrance.

He held it there for a moment, before patiently thrusting in and out as you adjusted to his massive form. Too focused on your breathing you were suddenly jerked to attention by Robin’s fingers laced through your hair. She pulled you flush against her pussy, not needing any more prompting you dove straight in. You reveled in the small gasps and moans she produced. Neither of your lovers were particularly loud during sex, that was unless they were teasing you. Crocodile let out a quiet moan as he finally bottomed out, leading you to suck particularly hard on Robin’s clit; causing her to moan out.

You whined as Crocodile’s hand skited over your lower stomach before he put light pressure slightly above your pelvis.

“You can feel that can’t you darling? You can feel how well Sir fills you up. You’re so good at taking me but, even a needy little slut like you need time to adjust.”

Your breath came out as desperate pants as you pulled away from Robin’s clit. It felt like you could feel him in the back of your throat. While both your partners relied on well-timed moves, they never seemed to have any patience when it came to you. In an instant Robin had you positioned back over her cunt. While Crocodile’s hand gripped your hip in a bruising hold as he began to fuck you, quickly building his pace. Your mind began to get hazy, Crocodile quickly building your orgasm, one thrust at a time.

You doubled down on your efforts to make Robin cum, before Croc could completely fuck you stupid. Your lips once again sealed around her clit, your fingers keeping pace as they curled, stroking her inner wall. You flicked your tongue against her clit, savoring the feeling of wetness leaking onto your face. You could feel her legs begin to shake around your head; taking this as a good sign you thrusted into her faster and faster. Before you could register the death grip she had on your fingers, she was cumming hard and fast. Her plush thighs squeezing around your head; she was past the point of worrying about your ability to breathe.

Despite your best efforts you quickly came after, to overwhelmed by the taste of Robin’s release and Crocodile’s cock rearranging your guts. You fell limp on the bed as he continued to fuck you like his personal toy. Robin shifted after coming down from her high so that your head was resting on her lap. She gently petted your hair as you began to feel overstimulated by Croc’s ministration. Luckily it only took a moment before the tell-tale sign of him cumming. You felt his hips stuttering, seconds before you were overwhelmed by his cum filling you up. You both collapsed into a pile, he moaned as you whimpered at the sensation of him easing his cock out of you; a steam of cum following after his cock.

The next half hour was a blur as your partners took care of your spent form, bathing you before dressing you and tucking you into bed curled up in between. You fell asleep content. Robin’s arm curled around your middle, and your head tucked into the hallow of Crocodile's throat.

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MASTERLIST

Next up is a Dom!Robin x Sub!AMAB Reader, Then I'll go back to working on the list

[stoned-frog]

"The little things" 🖤🩸🤍

afterdeathcest fluff, word count- 1785

Goth hummed softly as he slowly gained consciousness. He lazily opened his eyes and shifted away from the light hitting his face, that must've been the thing that woke him up so early. Normally he wouldn't be so happy he can't sleep until noon but something stopped him from just falling asleep again. He raised his head to look at the two men laying beside him, sleeping, not bothered by anything. Geno was just next to him snoring every now and then, nuzzled into Reaper's black wing contrasting in color to Goth's pure white, making up Geno's personal pillow. Reaper was the furthest but still had his hand intertwined with Goth's, not letting go even in his unconscious state. Goth just stared and his single pupil widened, feeling his soul tingle. He finally had everything he could ever ask for, finally everything was peaceful again. He smiled and with a happy chirp rested his head next to Geno again, he wanted to kiss his cheek but didn't want to risk waking him up. He just covered them up with his other wing and tried to get a little more rest before they woke up. 

He opened his eyes again when he felt a shuffle. He looked over Geno to see Reaper trying to free his wing and be as quiet as possible. In silent agreement, which was more of a set of awkward gestures, they decided it would be easier to just wake up Geno too. Just as Goth turned to him, Geno shifted in his sleep hitting the other right in the nose. Goth hissed and jerked back, waking Geno up. Confused, he lifted himself looking at Goth covering his face with a hand. 

"Shit- shorry- sorry did I-" He tried to apologise, but given he woke up seconds ago he stumbled over his own words. Reaper giggled in the back, causing Goth himself to let out a muffled snort. 

"Well, that's certainly a way to wake up" The god commented. He got up from the bed and patted his wings before stretching, making a couple joints crack. 

"Feel free to join me anytime, I will go make us some coffee, I want to make the most of my day off" and with a wide smile he made his way to the kitchen. Goth slid off the bed soon after and retracted his wings. Geno was still half asleep and just when he was about to close his eye again Goth pulled his hand and gestured his head to the door.

"Oh give this old man some time to get up, my knees aren't ready to walk yet" He complained. Goth rolled his eyes.

"Reaper is way older than you, you know"

"Well Reaper doesn't have chronic pain" Geno snapped back, but his tone was still gentle. With a low groan he got up too, putting his arms in the air with a yawn. Then with one arm still up, tilted to one side, then the other. It was part of his morning routine Reaper forced on him to help with his pains. He quickly stopped as his spine cracked painfully.

"Geez, you ok?" Goth looked at him, trying to spot anything that could be hurting.

"Just my old man bones, 'm fine" He dismissed his son giving him a weak smile, though he felt pretty embarrassed how worried he got.

"Quit calling yourself that, what, you want me to start calling you old man?" 

Geno chuckled.

"Heh, never." Without further comment he walked out of their bedroom and Goth followed, making a mental note to remind Geno to finish his morning stretches later.

As they walked in, Reaper was leaning on the kitchen counter waiting impatiently for the little light on a kettle to turn off, staring into it intensely. Just when he noticed the other two and turned his head a little click signalled the water was ready. After awkwardly standing back up like he wasn't just drilling his gaze into a kettle he poured boiling water into three cups waiting next to him and placed them on the table. Geno started drinking almost right away, only stirring the coffee inside before taking a big sip. He needed something warm in his system. Goth grabbed bread and eggs and turned on the stove to start preparing breakfast. 

"You're here earlier than expected, especially you Gen. Did you do your stretches?" Reaper pointed at surprised Geno.

"Uhh... yea-"

"No he didn't!" Goth cut in as he cracked an egg onto the pan.

"Geno, come on. We talked about this... besides, you will have to go out today." The god revealed, leaving both Geno and Goth curious. He giggled at the anticipation he created.

"I said I want to make the most out of my day off, so I might have organised a little something so we can have fun together" 

It was the first time Reaper had a full day to spend with his family in almost a month, it was a tough period in the multiverse and no one could've predicted how much work the two gods would have. He was tired but he wanted to finally go out somewhere with both his lovers more than anything. Reaper got a little lost in thought until he heard Goth's voice.

"Well? What is it?" He asked enthusiastically, looking over his shoulder.

"That's.. a surprise..." Reaper tried to sound secretive but he couldn't help but smile, looks like Goth missed him just as much as he missed him.

"But-" he turned his gaze back to Geno. "Geno. We're doing your stretches so you don't whine when we go out."

Geno scoffed, annoyed, but didn't object. Goth smirked, he found it amusing that his dad was sometimes treated like a little kid by Reaper.

"And Goth. Clean up your wings, I know you just unsummoned them and I don't want to see the mess you left in the morning when we go to bed." Goth just growled a little in response and Geno smiled, happy he wasn't the only victim of Reaper's aggressive love. None would say it out loud but they missed the god's bossiness, he always meant well and with skeletons as stubborn as Geno and Goth sometimes they just needed someone like Reaper to push them to take care of themselves. As caring as Reaper was he needed to be taken care of too, and Goth was ready to take on that role today. He wrapped up with preparing breakfast for the whole three while his dads were busy chatting about whatever bullshit seemed relevant and put their plates before them. Scrambled eggs, tomatoes, olives and bread. When he put down Reaper's plate, the god looked up at him confused.

"You know I don't have to eat, you two can split this between yourselves" He was ready to push away his plate but Goth stopped him.

"I wanted to do this for you. Today's special and let's be real, you probably barely ate anything these past few weeks. Let's finally eat together, ok?"

Reaper sat quietly for a while staring at Goth with wide open eyes. Of course he wanted a meal together, how could Reaper be so stupid? A smile appeared on his face alongside a slight blue blush.

"Of course. Thank you, dove" he lifted himself to give Goth a kiss. Goth happily gave him another short kiss and sat down to finally eat. The whole time they were eating Geno and Goth tried to make Reaper reveal the surprise or trick him to spill any details, but to no avail. They were patient, they could wait, but seeing how happy Reaper was, trying to keep it in, they asked him more and more. Even Geno, who at the start wasn't much on board with going anywhere started to get excited, guess the mood of his two boys really was contagious.

"Thank you for the food Gothy" Reaper got up and grabbed his plate to put in the sink. He walked to where Geno was sitting and took out his hands for him to grab

"-And let's get your exercises done, get your blood flowing!"

Geno just chuckled in defeat and took his hands to get pulled up and into Reaper's embrace.

"My blood is already flowing, out of me, constantly" 

Reaper just rolled his eyes, but with his lack of eyelights only his annoyed sigh could indicate that.

"You walked right into that one~" Geno teased and put his forehead to Reaper's.

In the meantime Goth grabbed their exercise mats from the bedroom where Geno often stretches.

"Hey, I think I wanna join you today alright?" It wasn't really a question because as soon as he said that he started rolling out three mats.

"See? Even our little dove wants to motivate you, now come on." and with that the two walked over to Goth and started on Geno's routine.

"Face down ass up Gen!" Reaper corrected his posture. Geno groaned, shifting his legs.

"If you don't stop saying shit like that I'll stop doing these stupid exercises."

"You already don't wanna do them anyway, nothing will change." Goth looked over to Geno, stretching a lot more than him, just to show off.

The rest of their exercises went as always, a lot of cracks, groans and "You're going to kill me someday"s from Geno, but with motivation or rather silent competition from Goth they finished earlier than usual. They all went to change into something more decent than pyjamas and met again near the door when they were all ready to leave. Geno and Reaper were there way before Goth and when Geno banged on the bathroom door and Goth replied to "give him a minute" it was in fact not a minute but 15.

"What the hell took you so long??" Geno asked when Goth finally joined them.

"I just wanted to look a little nicer for you, that's all." Goth showed off his accessories and did a little spin. He went up to Geno and intertwined their fingers.

"You look very good yourself, it's not often you put effort into your outfit and look at you now"

Geno wasn't sure what to do with the unexpected compliment so he just muttered a little "you look very good too... you.... you both do"

Goth giggled, he loved making his dad so embarrassed.

"Alright, everybody ready?" Reaper jiggled the house keys indicating it's time to go. The two noded and Reaper opened the door for them theatrically to let them through like a gentleman and with the last little giggle from Goth the door closed leaving the house empty and quiet until the family decides to return.

[strawberry-jackalope]

with the mysterious mcr post of nonsensical symbols, and several people stating that at least one is from baseball, I've cracked the code

the confetti flakes are grayish, almost like tv static, a washed out color similar to black parade perhaps, which was all about death and following the revenge era aesthetic of vampires and undead

and the last symbol is still pretty close to an R, or an arrow, for misdirection or rewriting what's been ripped up

so clearly, this is all symbols that they regret not joining the likes of Muse and Paramore in the twilight verse, and they will in fact be joining the official soundtrack of Midnight Sun on Netflix, reveling finally, in that sweet sweet Vampire Money

[fingertipsmp3]

I wonder what it’s like to be able to kick a habit quickly and easily. I had to do four different things in order to stop biting my nails and I still occasionally fuck up (only when I break a nail but still)

[anarkhebringer]

Every time a WoL crosses my path that has power to make eye contact with someone and see every weakness and vulnerability, and even manipulate them with this knowledge, it makes me giddy and want them and Arkhe to be evil to each other

[joelsgoldrush]

“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you. 

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.” 

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend. 

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong 

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair 

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison 

Allison: 

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch 

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss. 

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.” 

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features. 

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules. 

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up. 

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail. 

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment. 

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you. 

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him. 

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. 

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on. 

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?” 

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days. 

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble. 

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[littlelamy]

I'm not your enemy

credits: thank you to @mad3ylncline

The sandy building groaned under the weight of time, its cracked walls and sunken roof barely holding together. Dust and grit hung in the air, and the dim sunlight streaming through broken slats created an eerie haze around the tense group.

Rafe stood at the center of it all, the map clutched tightly in his trembling hands. His chest rose and fell with shallow, uneven breaths. He glanced between John B, Sarah, JJ, and Kie like a trapped animal, his paranoia simmering just beneath the surface.

“Rafe, baby,” you said gently, taking a small step toward him. Your voice was steady, but your heart was hammering in your chest. “Just give John B the map.”

Rafe’s head snapped toward you, his jaw tightening. His eyes were glassy, tears threatening to spill over. “No!” he barked, shaking his head violently. “You’re just going to screw me like everyone else in my life!”

His voice cracked, and the rawness of his words echoed off the fragile walls. His fingers curled tighter around the fragile parchment as though letting go of it would unravel him completely.

“I know you will,” he muttered, his voice breaking as he looked at you. His hands trembled, and his gaze darted between you and Sarah. “You all will.”

You took a tentative step closer, hands raised to calm him. “Rafe, no one’s trying to screw you over,” you said softly. “We just need the map so we can find the crown. That’s it.”

He let out a sharp, bitter laugh, the sound cutting through the tension like a knife. “Oh, yeah? And then what?” His gaze fixed on Sarah, a storm brewing in his eyes. “You’ll just take it for yourselves, won’t you, Sarah? My own sister would rather side with them than with me!”

“Rafe, that’s not true,” Sarah said, her voice trembling. She took a cautious step forward, but JJ grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

“Don’t,” JJ muttered under his breath, his eyes never leaving Rafe. “He’s a ticking time bomb right now.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Rafe snarled, his voice rising as he took a step back. The fragile map crinkled under his grip, and the group collectively tensed.

You watched him closely, your chest tightening at the desperation in his eyes. This wasn’t just anger—it was fear. He felt cornered, betrayed, and utterly alone.

“Rafe,” you said again, your voice calm and unwavering. “Look at me.”

His gaze flicked to yours, and for a moment, his hardened expression softened.

“No one here is your enemy,” you continued, taking another step closer. “I’m not your enemy.”

His jaw clenched, and he shook his head. “You don’t get it,” he muttered, his voice cracking. “They’ll screw me over, just like they did Dad, just like everyone else.”

“They won’t,” you insisted, your voice firm. “And even if they try, I won’t. I’m here, Rafe. I’m always here.”

He stared at you, his chest heaving. The cracks in his armor were widening, the vulnerability he worked so hard to hide bleeding through.

���Rafe,” Sarah said softly, her tone cautious but sincere. “This is what Dad would’ve wanted. He would’ve wanted us to work together.”

Rafe let out a harsh, bitter laugh, tears welling up in his eyes. “Yeah? Like you worked with him? You let him die!”

Sarah’s face paled, her breath hitching as the accusation hit her squarely in the chest. “He died taking a bullet for me, Rafe,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute. “He died protecting me.”

Rafe’s lip quivered, and tears began streaming down his face. His hands shook as he clung to the map, but the anger drained from his expression, replaced with pure sorrow.

Sarah’s heart broke as she stepped toward him. “I’m so sorry, Rafe,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. Rafe stood stiffly for a moment before his shoulders sagged, and he let himself lean into the hug. His tears soaked into her shirt as his walls crumbled, his sobs muffled against her shoulder.

When Sarah finally let go, her own tears glistening on her cheeks, Rafe turned to you. His face was still streaked with tears, his vulnerability laid bare in a way you’d never seen before. Without hesitation, you reached for him, your hands gently cupping his face.

“Rafe,” you murmured, brushing a tear from his cheek. His blue eyes locked onto yours, searching for something—comfort, reassurance, hope. You leaned in, your lips meeting his in a sweet, tender kiss. His hands instinctively found your waist, grounding himself in the moment.

When you pulled back, your forehead rested against his. “You’re not alone,” you whispered. “You’ll never be alone as long as I’m here.”

For a moment, it was as if the rest of the world melted away. Rafe exhaled shakily, his grip on the map loosening as he let the weight of his pain lift, even if just a little.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You smiled softly, taking the map from his trembling hands. As the group exchanged nervous glances, you kept your focus on Rafe, your fingers brushing his one last time.

“We’ll figure this out,” you said quietly, holding his gaze as the group began to move out of the crumbling building.

He didn’t respond, but the flicker of hope in his eyes was enough.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01

[mephisto-reporting]

Princess Treatment - LADS HCs

Premise: You spoil him rotten, giving him the true princess treatment whenever he least expects it. Based on this request. Pairing: reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. This is pure fluff and I wrote these as headcanons on how the MC would spoil the lads men.

XAVIER

Tying His Shoelaces: Xavier, perpetually lost in thought or too sleepy to notice, never realizes his shoelaces have come undone. You’ve taken it upon yourself to stop him mid-step, kneeling down without hesitation to tie them up for him. "Y-you don’t have to do that,” he murmurs, his ears tinged red as other hunters in the UNICORNS squad snicker or raise eyebrows. Despite his protests, he secretly loves the care and attention you give him. Sometimes, he’ll glance down at his laces before heading out, secretly hoping you’ll stop him again.

The Crumb Crisis: You’ve come to notice that Xavier is always getting crumbs on his face—whether it’s from a snack he didn’t realize he’d left out or a meal he’s rushed through. You’ve made it a habit to carry a handkerchief with you, and whenever you see those crumbs stuck to his cheek, you gently take the cloth and wipe them off. He’s always caught off guard, sometimes even stammering, "I'm fine, really!" but the quiet appreciation in his eyes is unmistakable.

Homecooked Comfort: After grueling missions, Xavier is too drained to do much beyond collapsing on his couch. And given his well-documented kitchen disasters—he once managed to burn soup—you’ve made it a point to spoil him with hearty, homecooked meals. From comforting stews to his favorite snacks, you make sure he’s well-fed and taken care of. The first time you did it, his sleepy eyes widened in surprise. “You… made this for me?” “Of course. You deserve it.” He savors every bite, and though he’s not great with words, the way he quietly finishes everything on his plate is thanks enough.

Fuck the machines: Claw machines are Xavier’s mortal enemy. You’ve watched him struggle time and again, his focus no match for the slippery claws, even when he uses his Evol. So, you’ve taken over as his claw machine champion. "Which one do you want this time?” you ask, cracking your knuckles as he hesitates before shyly pointing to a particularly adorable plush. You win it with ease, handing it to him with a triumphant grin. “For you, Your Highness.” He laughs softly, his rare smile lighting up his face. “You’re too good at this.”

Bedhead Boy: Xavier’s perpetually messy bedhead is endearing, but sometimes it’s just too much for you to resist smoothing down. With a quiet hum, you gently comb your fingers through his hair, fixing it without a second thought. “Hey…” he starts to protest, but he always lets you finish, his ears pink as you pat his head affectionately.

ZAYNE

Door Dash: Zayne’s disdain for hospital canteen food is no secret, and you’ve made it your mission to ensure he eats something wholesome during his grueling shifts. You send him meals carefully packed in insulated containers, often including his favorite dishes. Occasionally, you’ll slip in a small dessert, knowing his secret sweet tooth. He doesn’t say much when he gets them, but you’ve caught a glimpse of the faint smirk he wears when he opens the package. “You know I can survive on vending machine snacks, right?” he’d quip over the phone later, but the fact he finishes every bite says otherwise.

Sticky notes: Zayne isn’t the type to expect grand gestures, so you leave small, thoughtful surprises instead. A note tucked into his hospital coat pocket with a cheeky, “Don’t overwork yourself. I still need my heart surgeon around.” Or a sticky note on his dashboard that reads, “Drive safe, handsome.” Once, he found one in his mail that simply said, “Stop glaring at everyone, I know you’re secretly nice.” He pretends to be unfazed, rolling his eyes or muttering something sarcastic like, “Am I being stalked?” but he keeps every single one in a drawer at home.

Spoil me, rotten: Zayne’s wardrobe is filled with impeccably tailored long coats, a staple of his polished appearance. You’ve taken to buying him accessories like elegant brooches, leather gloves, or even scarves that perfectly complement his collection. He always protests when you present them, narrowing his eyes and saying, “You do know I can buy these myself, right?” But the next time you see him, he’s wearing the latest item with an almost imperceptible look of pride. You tease him about it, and he deadpans, “It’s just practical. Don’t overthink it.”

Doctor's Day Out: Knowing how chaotic Zayne’s schedule as a top surgeon can be, you take charge of planning the weekends so he doesn’t have to lift a finger. Whether it’s booking a cozy dinner reservation, arranging a quiet getaway, or even planning an at-home movie night, you ensure everything is set. “All you need to do is show up and look stunning,” you joke, and he raises an eyebrow. “Well, I’m halfway there already,” he retorts dryly, but the way he leans back and relaxes during those weekends tells you he’s more grateful than he lets on.

Massage therapist: Zayne’s hands are his lifeline, and after long, intricate surgeries, they’re often sore and strained. You’ve made it a habit to take his hands in yours and gently massage them, working out the tension in his fingers and wrists. He pretends to be indifferent at first but notices that your skills have improved. After all, you’d put in the effort to learn different techniques to aid him and his skilled hands. “I hope you’re not charging me for this.” He jokes. But as your thumbs press into the tight knots, his usual stoic demeanor falters. The sharp lines of stress around his eyes soften, and his shoulders, once hunched from exhaustion, slowly unwind.

RAFAYEL

After you: It’s no secret Rafayel enjoys being the center of your attention, and you’re more than happy to oblige. Wherever you are—be it a café, an art gallery, or even your own home—you always make it a point to open the door for him. Without fail, he pauses, waiting for you to complete the gesture. It’s not that he can’t do it himself, but he loves seeing that soft, proud smile on your face when you hold the door just for him. Of course, he’d never outright admit it. Instead, he’ll quip something bratty, like, “Took you long enough, Cutie” but the faint curve of his lips tells you he secretly adores it.

Color Splash: Rafayel’s world revolves around his art, and you’ve made it your mission to fuel his creativity. Whether it’s hunting down rare pigments, finding unconventional materials to create new textures, or gifting him innovative tools, you never miss an opportunity to surprise him. When he first discovers your thoughtful additions to his collection, he’s practically radiant, eyes gleaming with inspiration as he eagerly experiments. Of course, he’ll nonchalantly mutter, “I could’ve found this myself, you know,” but his excitement is undeniable, and you know you’ve made his day.

Cheater, Cheater: You pride yourself on your competitive streak, but when it comes to Kitty Cards with Rafayel, you can’t help but let him bend the rules. He catches on every time, glancing at you with a knowing smirk as he casually switches out cards while you pretend not to notice. He knows exactly what you’re doing but plays along with a sly grin. Winning always means he gets to name his prize, and without fail, it’s more time with you. “Your competitive streak is slipping, cutie,” he teases, already pulling you closer. “Guess you’ll just have to pay for it with another evening by my side.”

Passenger Princess: Whether it’s the car or your motorbike, Rafayel is always the passenger princess with you. He’s perfectly content letting you take the wheel, whether it’s navigating through traffic or cruising down open roads. He’ll sit back, casually tossing a playful comment your way, his relaxed demeanor making it clear he has no interest in taking control. But even more than that, he loves the attention you give him. He’ll rest his hand on your shoulder or his head against the seat, basking in the comfort of being close to you. It’s his way of enjoying the ride—and you—without the fuss.

Creative Clean up: Rafayel’s studio is a whirlwind of creativity, but it’s also a constant mess. Brushes, paints, papers, clothes—everything’s scattered around like a storm wrecked his living space. Coffee cups would double as pen holders, and brushes would be left lying around like they were an afterthought. But no matter how chaotic it became, you never complained. You’d roll up your sleeves and clean up every single time you visited him. He’d give you a cheeky grin, the same one he wore whenever he was being a brat, and say, “You know you don’t have to do this, right? I like my space just the way it is.” But he never stopped you, and in the moments when he didn’t look, his eyes would soften, and a hint of appreciation would slip through his normally playful mask. He knew you cared for him in a way that no one else did.

SYLUS

Product Placement: Sylus was used to getting what he wanted, whether it was luxury items or rare finds. He had his preferences, and he wasn’t one to settle for less. But when you made it your mission to keep his favorite, expensive brands stocked in your home—whether it was gourmet food, skincare products, or niche equipment—it didn’t go unnoticed. The first time you did this, Sylus had been caught off guard. He’d teased you, of course. “I don’t need you to be my personal store, kitten. I’ve got everything I need.” But when he came over and found everything perfectly laid out just the way he liked it, the teasing turned into a more meaningful smile. He would let you spoil him just enough to acknowledge your effort, but never enough to let you feel like you were getting the upper hand. That was the Sylus way.

Rare Rhythms:  Sylus’ love for rare records was well-known, and so was the fact that he had an extensive collection of limited-edition vinyl. But you didn’t mind diving into the world of obscure, indie artists just to get him something new for his collection. It wasn’t easy, though. It took long hours of scouring flea markets, searching online auction houses, and talking to music enthusiasts who knew more than a thing or two about underground talent. It was often a challenge, but for you, it was worth every second. Sylus didn’t say much, but you could tell by the way he listened to every single one of them, that he was genuinely impressed. "They’ve got potential," he'd said, before you knew it, that same artist was suspiciously rising in popularity, and you’d smile every time Sylus mentioned them. “You really know how to find a diamond in the rough, don’t you, sweetie?”

Spoiled Stubborn: Sylus was always the one taking the lead, always the one orchestrating the grand gestures. Spoiling him? Not so easy. He didn’t make it easy for anyone to do that. He would never outright refuse, but it was clear that when you tried, he preferred to return the favor rather than let you take charge. But you were stubborn—probably even more so than he was. You wanted him to be spoiled just as much. You wanted him to experience the kind of care he gave to everyone else, and you had just the way to do it: Planning dates where he couldn’t take over. Once it was picnic in the woods. You went all out—your best blankets, his favorite snacks, wine you knew he’d like—and most importantly, you took care of every detail so that he couldn’t take charge. The other time, it was a movie night at your place where everything was set: Popcorn, soda, the projector and candy. “You’re stubborn, you know that?” he remarked softly, but there was affection behind his words. "I want spoil you... but you’ve managed to spoil me instead." You smiled, the warmth in your chest spreading, knowing that in these small moment, you had made him feel cared for—something he usually avoided letting others do.

Sylus’ Salon: Sylus had always been a little gruff, his rugged demeanor giving off the impression of someone who was clinical and composed. But you knew him better than that. One of those moments was when you washed and dried his hair. He’d never asked for it, but you’d begun doing it without thinking. Maybe it was the way his silver hair shimmered under the water, or maybe it was the way he looked so disarmed when he let his guard down, letting you comb through his hair with graceful  fingers. You’d always notice how his breath would deepen, how his eyes would close just a little longer than necessary. "I know you like doing this," he’d say, the faintest hint of a grin playing on his lips. "But you’re making it hard for me to act all tough with you fussing over me like this." You’d laugh softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead before continuing to dry his hair. It was an act of tenderness, a side of him that no one got to see.

Touch Starved: Sometimes, it wasn’t the grand gestures that mattered. It was the little touches. —a soft brush of your hand against his cheek or the fleeting warmth of your fingers tracing his jaw—he couldn’t help but pause. He’d find himself rewinding moments of you brushing his hair out of his face, or simply wrapping your arms around him when he least expected it. He’d tense, but only for a moment, before letting the warmth of your embrace dissolve his guarded exterior. “It seems like a certain kitten cannot keep her hands to herself.” Sylus would tease, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as you snuck in another kiss, letting him know that you’d spoil him with your touches and kisses, even if he won’t admit it loudly.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

the limit does not exist!

how spencer helps college!reader understand a little calculus and therefore understand how he loves her.

MDNI | smut word count: 1931 warnings & tags & stuff: fem reader, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), lil bit of overstim hehe, pure unbridled affection, LOVE, FLUFF, hugging, reader cries, this was in fact meant to be written for spence's birthday... sorry about that school is kicking my butt lets just pretend it's october! author's note: this one is for my folks who HATE their calculus class and want spencer reid to give them head instead <3 maybe this can help you romanticize it a bit. i think this is classified as self indulgent…like REALLY self indulgent… hah... anyway i hope you enjoy! let me know your thoughts if u have any, i loveeeee you!! have a great day my hands are shaking posting this smut is so scary!!!!!

You sat in bed, staring down your notebook, eyes narrowed. Limits stared back at you. You were just about at your own limit, if you were being honest. 

Your brain, however sharp and witty it may be, is absolutely not one designed for calculus. A literary analysis essay? Done in half an hour. In depth scientific research project? Easiest months of your life. But there’s something about finding the instantaneous rate of change of a curve at one point in time by finding the slope of a tangent line that hasn't clicked yet. 

A slew of other papers- notes, practice worksheets printed from obscure websites, and formulas- surround you, a sea of unfinished thoughts from the past month of the semester.

You bite on the end of your pen, the little hope you had for a good grade in this class slipping further and further away with each passing moment, like the last ember dying in the remains of a fire.

What you really wanted to be doing was celebrating Spencer’s birthday with him right now. A chocolate cake lay on the kitchen counter and pasta simmers on the stove, but you and your boyfriend had agreed to do a solid hour of work before the celebrations ensued.

You were never particularly strong willed when it came to following through on such agreements.

“Teach me calculus,” you say, a very impressive three minutes later, flopping down on the couch. Your head makes its way to its forever resting spot, Spencer’s lap. He raises his eyebrows slightly, thumb reaching out to trace over the slope of your nose. His eyes flit between you and the file to the side of him. 

“I thought we agreed on an hour.”

“Yeah. But it wouldn’t be a very productive hour if I didn’t know how to do what I have to do. And I missed you.” 

He sighs quietly, closing the file next to him. 

“What do you not understand?” You smile at that, loving how quickly you won.

“Related rates. Like, conceptually.” 

Spencer hums in response.

“It’s October. You’re not even supposed to know related rates yet.”

“Fine. Then let's open presents,” you respond, smiley. His eyebrows get impossibly higher, hand stroking your cheek delicately.

“No. I want our night to be a little more stress free when we celebrate, okay? How about you think about that lovely cake you made for me. What if I decided to squash it so that the diameter would get bigger, going from…let’s say, 20 centimeters to 26 centimeters in 3 seconds, and the height would get smal-”

“That wouldn't be nice. It took me like four hours,” you interrupt, grumbling. He cracks a smile.

“For the sake of the example, let's say I was an awful boyfriend and really wanted to ruin all the hard work you put in for me.”

You roll your eyes.

“Hey,” he says, hand moving down to touch your jaw softly. “Don’t do that. Don’t be difficult. I’m helping you.”

“Sorry. I guess I need you to zoom out a little. I don’t really get why I’m learning this as a whole.” Spencer’s eyes pore into yours, staring down at you adoringly for a small moment as he comes up with an answer.

“Calculus helps us begin to explain the unexplainable by harnessing what we can,” Spencer says simply. “Einstein once said that, ‘Pure mathematics is, in its way, the poetry of logical ideas,’ which makes it simple in practice, but I actually like to think about it as the opposite philosophically. Trying to find logic in the more poetic ideas.”

You cuddle deeper in his lap.

“Think he would agree with that?” you ask. “I do answer to Einstein before you, unfortunately.” Spencer bends down to kiss your hair.

“I think so. He also had a really nice quote where he remarked that, ‘Gravitation cannot be held responsible for people falling in love.’ He said, ‘How on earth can you explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as first love? Put your hand on a stove for a minute and it seems like an hour. Sit with that special girl for an hour and it seems like a minute. That's relativity.’”

Spencer takes a deep breath.

“Math doesn’t explain how I love you. It can’t. But I love the fact that it tries to. It kinda makes you wanna learn it as best you can.”

You process that for a long second and nod. He keeps talking.

… 

Presents get opened, and cake gets eaten before dinner. Of course.

You’re now in bed, on top of the covers, forcing Spencer to give you a fashion show of the new sweater vest and tie you got him. He turns to you after putting it on, and you beam. 

“I really like it. You look great. Do you like it?” you ask. He nods, smiling back at you.

“I’m gonna wear it to work tomorrow.” 

You beckon for Spencer to come closer, sitting up in bed. Your hands go out to the tie, tugging at the knot softly. He stares down at you until eventually interrupting your motions with a slow kiss, hands cupping your face.

“You’re so pretty,” he mutters.

He pulls away and finishes what you started, folding the tie neatly and setting it in the drawer. Then comes the vest, and soon enough, he’s just in his boxers.

“You’re the pretty one,” you say quietly. “Come to bed.” He crawls on next to you, tugging you into his arms. “Happy birthday, Spence. I love you.” He dips his forehead to your shoulder.

“I love you.”

Before you know it, he’s shifted on top of you, moving down. Fast. You blink, hard, trying to rid your head of the hazy endorphins as you register what he’s doing.

“What? No, I was gonna do that. It’s your birthday. You don’t have to,” you protest.

“But I really, really want to, darling girl,” he murmurs back, kissing your knee and softly pushing it to the side.

You fluster and Spencer just looks at you, fingers tracing shapes on your waist, waiting for you to be ready. 

“Well. Um. Okay. If you insist. I can’t really deny the birthday boy.” Your voice is small, and a little giddy smile grows on your face. Of course Spencer Reid would want to give you head on his birthday. 

He smiles a little against the bare skin of your hip where your top meets your shorts. Then he meets your eyes. 

“You know you can, though, right?” he asks, voice a little more serious. You reach out to touch his hair softly. 

“Yeah. I know.”

Fingers hook your shorts, gently pulling them down. He presses a kiss to your thigh, and then he suddenly looks down at it. 

“Soft,” he murmurs, like he’s making a mental note. He presses another, and another, incrementally going closer and closer to your soaked through underwear. His eyebrows scrunch when he sees the wet spot. “All this from a few kisses?” 

You blush, unable to respond. 

Spencer’s fingers hook a centimeter of your underwear. “These?” he checks.

“Yes, please,” you manage. He tugs them down, silently noticing the slickness of your sex, and exhales shakily.

“How many times on average does it take for a guy to call you pretty on a given day before you get annoyed?” he murmurs, soft smile playing on his face. You smile too, head cloudy from his words, but it immediately drops when his lips press directly against your pulsing clit, kissing it softly.

“Fuck,” you say (Spencer would argue moan) softly (loudly). You let out a content sigh, and he moves to suckle it, actions becoming less and less delicate. 

It’s not harsh, but incessant. Spencer knows what you can take. He knows exactly what you can take. You’re both quiet for a bit, save for your breathy moans. 

“Spencer,” you say softly, ripping you both out of your individually hazy and dirty and distracted minds. “You’re too far away.” He looks up to you, face parallel to your aching core, hair beautifully messy and mouth glistening.

After a second, he grabs your hips, gently pushing you up against the pillows so you’re propped up at a better angle. He then shifts his body up wordlessly so he’s more above you, dipping his head down to give you a soft kiss. You taste yourself, tongue darting out to lick your lips.

His hand takes over where his mouth was, sliding in between your folds with a practiced ease. Spencer looks down at you, eyes wide and flitting between yours, searching for a reaction.

You reach out and wrap your arms around him, holding him close. “Holy shit, I love you,” you murmur.

His fingers lightly graze your clit again before one slides into you. “Angel,” he breathes out, so quietly. “I love you too. This okay? Are you okay?”

You nod feverishly and lift your hips to meet his hand, always in a perpetual state of wanting more, to be closer. Your bodies are melded so close together, barely giving him room to push his hand into you. He doesn’t even bother to ask you to use your words or keep your hips down, like he might on a regular night.

He pulls his head back to watch as he pushes another finger into you, stretching you just a little. “There we go. You always feel like heaven around me.”

Your eyes flit up to his face as he says those words, now having a little more room to observe him. You focus on the slope of his nose and curve of his mouth. 

“You’re so perfect,” you say quietly, adoringly, before you even realize it was true.

You blink at that thought. Spencer Reid is perfect, despite whatever universal odds deeming that impossible.

Those graphs, those formulas, now laying discarded & crumpled on the ground. They click, a little bit. You understand why Albert Einstein wanted to spend his life developing theories of relativity.

This is how Spencer sees you? What he was talking about earlier?

This is how he sees you?

The thought is almost too much.

Spencer sees your face, and not knowing what's going on in your head, slides down his free hand from your cheek to your carotid, feeling your racing pulse. “Take a deep breath for me, okay? You're about to come, huh?”

You inhale and are met with peace. Then your orgasm hits you like a wave. You clench hard around his fingers, and he just watches it happen, fascinated. “Baby,” he coos softly at you.

It wasn’t just your sensitivity he’s currently maximizing on or the little kisses he dips down to leave on your neck that sealed the deal, but the very thought that you could be loved in a way that is so perfectly impossible.

You exhale breathily as Spencer pushes you through the last trails of your climax, fingers not caring one bit that you just had your world tilted on its axis. 

“Spencer. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you say eventually, overstimulated.

“You’re okay. Did so good.” he murmurs, fingers slipping out of you. 

His thumb brushes your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn't even realize was dripping down.

“Don’t cry, you always cry. It’s my birthday. Don’t cry on my birthday,” he whispers soothingly, affection lacing his voice.

“I’m not.” 

Another one falls. 

You reach and press out that perpetual little slope between his eyebrows with your thumb, gentle, like you might break him. “I’m not crying.”

Spencer lets you lie.

[jjunieworld]

THE RULES ˒˒ 최연준

you would think that by now you would know the rules, right? apparently not, since yeonjun always has to keep reminding you—whores don't get to cum.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ choi yeonjun x fem!reader 𓄷 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 none!

genre﹙📓﹚⸝⸝⸝ pure smut, established relationship

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ unprotected sex (don’t!), heavy overstimulation, MEANN mean dom!yeonjun, rough sex, mentions of a blowjob, orgasm denial, free use and somnophilia (consensually!!), edging, teasing, degradation kink, petnames (baby, my love, good girl), name calling (whore, slut, cumslut, fuck toy), hair pulling, spanking, dacryphilia, creampie, manhandling, dirty talk

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ wrote this while ovulating and i never needed yeonjun more in my entire life… this literally took a ridiculously long time to write, i’m sorry to those waiting lol i hope you enjoy!! all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

∿ [ 4.3k ] ⋆ [ continue on to . . . masterlist ]

today was the best day of yeonjun’s life. in fact, he couldn’t think of a better way to be woken up—even if he was going to have to punish you for it.

what shocked him—and especially you—the most was how much you were able to do before his eyes cracked open. you had pulled the blankets off of him, pulled down his shorts and boxers, and had stroked and sucked his cock until it hardened. then, you slid onto it and began bouncing, the movement then waking him.

you looked so cute coming undone on top of him, breathy moans coming from your parted lips that were followed by low whines. it was cute how you thought you wouldn’t wake him. yeonjun’s hands slid up your bare thighs and to your hips, shocking you out of your sweet bliss.

yeonjun watched blearily as his cock disappeared and reappeared from inside your pretty, glistening pussy. his eyes trailed up the curve of your body and watched the way your tits bounced up and down. his eyes then landed on your face—which was previously thrown back, but now you stared down at him through furrowed eyebrows of slight horror. “s-sorry!” you choked out between heavy breaths as you didn’t bother to slow or stop. “needed you!”

a wicked smirk formed on yeonjun’s lips as he laid back onto his pillow and stared up at you. you knew you were in trouble, but the thought only made you wetter and pushed you to move faster. you savored the way your skin slapped against his and the wet sounds that came from where the two of you met. you knew that when the two of you had agreed on using each other whenever you’d like that there would still be rules. mainly rules for you to follow—rules that you were currently breaking.

yeonjun’s thumbs rubbed circles onto your hips as his grip tightened. “whatever my baby wants, she can get,” he cooed and then tutted. you heard the double meaning in his words and a shiver ran up your spine from it. punishment. you were going to be punished.

the last time you hadn’t followed the rules, yeonjun went easy on you—or, at least, that’s what he claimed. you weren’t allowed to touch him, or yourself. only he was allowed to do that—which he didn’t. for a whole month. once that month was over and you were so needy for him that you debated on tearing off his clothes and breaking even more rules, he finally gave you what you wanted. the long hours of your face pushed into a pillow as you were rammed into from behind, or being taken in various different positions that made you extremely sore until you could barely walk after was treacherous, but you had felt so good during it all so it was well worth it. that was your thought process now.

“will you be able to take it, my love?” yeonjun asked sweetly. his hand moved from your hip to between your thighs where his thumb instead rubbed circles into your aching clit. you gasped, hips bucking towards his hand as you moved up and down. you bit down hard on your bottom lip, eyebrows still furrowed as you nodded desperately. you didn’t care what the punishment was this time, all you needed was for him to start fucking you.

that was all the confirmation yeonjun needed as he sat up and wrapped an arm around your waist. in one swift motion you were on your back and he was on top of you. with the new position, you felt just how much yeonjun’s big cock stretched you out. that feeling only grew when he moved your legs to rest on his shoulder and he started pounding into you at a rough and fast pace.

you cried out, fingers gripping the bed sheets and eyes squeezing shut, as the knot in your stomach tightened and tightened until it was about to snap. “please, please, please,” you whimpered as your walls fluttered around him, “p-please let me cum.”

yeonjun stifled out a harsh laugh, “you thought it was gonna be this easy? i thought you knew this…” he tilted his head at you in faux pity and gave it a slight shake, “whores don’t get to cum.” tears fell from your eyes, not only from the immense pleasure you felt but also from his words. you shook your head rapidly and swallowed thickly.

“please…” you trailed off, looking up at yeonjun through blurred eyes. he just laughed and kissed you deeply, his tongue pushing past your lips. he pulled away from you just as you moved to wrap your arms around his neck, making you chase his lips.

“should’ve thought about that earlier. you wanted me to fuck you so bad, huh, slut? well, i’m gonna fuck your pretty little pussy until you don’t even have the words to beg to cum,” yeonjun said in a low voice with a smile. you had started to clench around his cock and he swiftly pulled out, leaving you empty and unsatisfied. he pumped his wet cock slowly over top of you as he looked down at you. the morning light from the open window shadowed him, making him appear almost holy in a demented way.

“such a pretty little slut, just couldn’t wait her turn… how pathetic,” yeonjun sighed as he slid back into you. he pushed your knees to your chest and fucked you agonizingly slowly. you bucked your hips up, walls fluttering around his thick cock only for him to pull out again with a cruel laugh.

“so fucking pathetic…” he laughed, hand coming to grip your chin as he roughly placed his lips against yours in a wet, open mouthed kiss. you whined against his lips, needing some friction—any friction from his body against yours.

yeonjun thought you looked the most beautiful when you were like this; completely needy for him with blown out pupils full of lust and cheeks streaked with tears. squirming underneath him desperate for any type of movement on his part—even if it was the light trail of his fingertips. it made the blood rush directly to his already hard cock. “fuck! you drive me fuckin’ insane,” he groaned out, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes.

he pushed into you again with shallow strokes, laughing when he had to press down onto your legs to keep you from moving. yeonjun pulled out again and you whined. you were so close to cumming but everytime you were right near the edge he would yank you back.

yeonjun grabbed your arms, pulling you into a sitting position before roughly pushing you so you were now on your stomach with your ass up in the air. you felt his hard cock against your ass and you shaked your hips a little against it. you then felt his fingers in your hair and the sharp burning sensation as he dragged you back towards him with it. “you’ll be a good girl and do everything jjunie says, right?” yeonjun asked you, nodding slightly.

he stared down into your eyes, your back arched to the point where it was almost uncomfortable so he got a good view of your face. his eyes were dark and you could practically see the lust swirling in them. yeonjun pressed his hips harder into your ass and his grip in your hair tightened when you didn’t answer him. “right?” he repeated, harsher.

through your labored breathing and the burning pain at your scalp, you nodded. yeonjun smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before releasing his grip of your hair. you fell face forward into the bedsheets and used your wobbling arms to push yourself back up, looking back at him. your arousal was dripping all over his cock that was currently pressed into your bare pussy. without thinking, you rocked your hips backwards, moaning at the brief sensation of your clit dragging against his length.

smack!

it took a moment to register the sharp pain to the flesh of your ass, and another to hear yeonjun’s tsking. “such a fucking whore, can’t even wait for me to stick my cock inside you before you’re rubbing up against it. i should just use you like the fuck toy you are and be done with it.”

you immediately shook your head rapidly, pleas falling from your mouth. “no, please! i’ll be good, promise!”

yeonjun sighed, amusement leaking into it. his hand found it’s way into your hair again and he pulled until your ass was pressing against him. “cute. if you’re good for me i might even let you cum today. you want that, don’t you, baby?”

you nodded again.

“good,” yeonjun started. you desperately wished you could turn to look at him once you felt the absence of his body against yours. the anticipation was eating you alive as you waited to find out what he was going to do to you. a shocked gasp left your parted lips as the entirety of his length was abruptly pushed into you, your wetness making the process easier.

yeonjun slowly pulled out of you until you felt just his tip at the base of your entrance before he slowly pushed back into you as he spoke, “i’m going to give you a pace to go at—and you better keep up with it. you got that? you’ll keep going without stopping until i fill you up and tell you to stop, okay, my pretty cumslut?”

you opened your mouth to protest. you knew his pace was going to be rough, it always was, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep up with it without cumming around him. you were already so close.

smack!

yeonjun’s free hand rubbed over the soft, burning skin of your ass, soothing it slightly as he roughly pulled you back to him. his breath fanned against your ear as he said harshly, “you. got. that?”

his hand then snaked between your thighs to rub circles into your neglected clit, slow strokes still teasing you. more tears fell from your eyes as you nodded. “y-yes,” you replied shakily, breath hitching as a moan ripped through you.

yeonjun backed away, gripping lessening and the circles at your clit ceasing. you breathed a sigh of relief too soon as then his hips snapped against yours at a rapid and unforgiving pace. you cried out, body giving out but being forced into the same position by your hair, as your fingers tightened around the sheets. yeonjun groaned behind you, not even bothering to mask his pleasure from all of this.

his hips stilled, breathing heavy. he rubbed the flesh of your sore ass, hand then resting there as a constant reminder. “like that, now be a good little slut and make me cum, yeah?”

you inhaled short breaths to try and fill your lungs, legs already starting to wobble underneath you. “t-too fast, jjunie!”

yeonjun’s hand on your ass kneaded at the flesh a little before smacking it again, hard. you let out a small whimper, back arching. “i don’t care. you said you’d do what i say, right? so start moving your pretty ass on my cock and make me fucking cum. isn’t this what you wanted when you decided to wake me, dirty slut? move, or it will get a lot worse for you from here. don’t you see i’m trying to be nice?”

gulping, you began to do as you were told. your pace was a lot slower than the one yeonjun set for you, but it was the best you could do. there was another harsh slap to your ass and burning at your scalp. you were now face to face with yeonjun. anger etched his features and you knew better than to open your mouth again. “faster,” he spit out.

your tears dripped down your neck as you tried to go faster. you body didn’t know whether to whimper from all of the overstimulation or moan from all of the pleasure as you fucked yourself on yeonjun’s cock. he ran his fingers through his hair in his face before leaning down to press a rough kiss to your lips. the sheer wet sounds that filled your shared bedroom edged you on along with you wanting to make yeonjun cum. you pushed yourself to go even faster.

your brows knitted together as your mouth fell open against yeonjun’s, loud moans being slightly muffled by his lips. yeonjun’s lips moved from your mouth to your salty wet cheeks and you felt his smirk against your skin. “that’s it, baby. f-fuck…” yeonjun moaned, “keep fucking yourself on my cock, you nasty whore. don’t you dare stop.”

yeonjun’s mouth fell near your ear and you heard his shameless moans and whines even louder. they just turned you on further and your hips bucked forward as you felt your walls flutter around his cock again. you whimpered and went to move your hand between your thighs to rub at your sore, swollen clit.

yeonjun yanked you back by your hair before your fingers could reach it. he laughed wryly in your ear, “you should fucking know better than to touch yourself right now. are you trying to make me angry?”

you cried out again from the pain and shook your head. you didn’t entirely believe yourself. the only thought running through your mind was how you wanted him to fuck you so hard you came instead of you pathetically fucking yourself on him while he watched. you wanted to see his expressions when he fucked into you and felt how good you made him feel, not the plain sheets of your bed. maybe you were trying to anger him.

your walls tightened around him and yeonjun cursed under his breath as he pulled away from you. “keep going,” he ordered.

you sniffled, the tears blurring your vision. surely he didn’t want you to keep moving with how close to cumming you were, right? not wanting to lose the opportunity to cum at all, you kept at your pace. you pleaded with him to let you stop, that you were so close, but they all fell on deaf ears.

you couldn’t take it anymore. your movements stilled and you looked at his distorted figure with pleading eyes. heavy labored breaths ripped from your chest and your body shook to the point that you could almost hear your bones rattle. “it’s too m-much, jjunie… can’t go f-further…”

yeonjun tutted. another loud smack was heard throughout the room.

“i’m not going to set the pace for you again.” yeonjun slammed into you. you yelped loudly, throat already feeling hoarse as you tried to pull your body away from his. he just pulled you back by your hair. the pain at your scalp was starting to become intolerable, but you felt so good. loud sputtering moans ripped from your chest as your eyes squeezed shut. “go fucking faster.”

yeonjun’s speech was clipped and you could tell that he was close. swallowing thickly, you dragged yourself along him again, babbling out apologies. you got as close to his pace as you could, whimpering each time you felt the tip of his cock press against your sweet spot. his lips were on yours in a heated and sloppy kiss.

his hand fell from your hair, giving you brief relief, as they trailed up your stomach and towards your bouncing tits. his touch left the skin underneath it ignited. he kneaded them, thumb rubbing your sensitive nipples as he kissed you deeper from the awkward angle you were at. you moaned against his mouth and he took the opportunity to trail a hand down your stomach while you were distracted.

you gasped loudly as his fingers rubbed hard circles into your clit again. on instinct, you moved from against his chest—wet pussy pulling off his hard cock in the process—at the jolt of lightning that strikes through your body. “p-please… please,” you begged. you begged for him to let you cum. for him to end this torment. he snuffed out your plea with another rough kiss.

yeonjun pressed down on your chest, pulling you back towards him and in turn, staking you directly back onto his big cock. he groaned loudly against your lips and you felt his warm cum spill into you and paint your walls white. he broke away from you, a trail of spit connecting your lips to his, before he roughly pushed you down towards the sheets. his big hands gripped tightly at your hips.

“since you don’t know how to fucking listen, fucking useless slut—“ yeonjun landed another hard smack on your ass and you flew forwards, another moan escaping your mouth. “and you don’t know how to follow simple directions…”

his words were raspy as he pushed them out through low grunts, hips pressed firmly to your ass so none of his cum spilled out. “moaning like a goddamn whore and you’re not even truly sorry about it…” he reeled his hips back and slammed into you, a loud squelching sound from his cum bouncing off the walls of your bedroom. “but you will be.”

you couldn’t help yourself as another loud pathetic moan poured out of you. you could practically feel your boyfriend’s smirk burning into the back of your head. yeonjun pulled out of you and you whined at the sudden loss, walls clenching around nothing. “get up and turn around,” he demanded.

yeonjun laid down onto the bed, tapping his thigh twice, and you climbed over him. he lined his cock with your entrance with a smile at how his cum dripped out of you and down his length before grabbing your hips. you slid down the rest of it with a small broken gasp, yeonjun groaning beneath you. he then moved his arms behind his head, looking up at you expectantly with a tilted head. you realized too late that he just put you in the position you woke him up with.

“bounce on it.”

your eyes widened and slowly you started to shake your head, trembling legs squeezing around his thighs. you could barely sit up—let alone bounce on his cock. heat crept up your neck. “jjunie, please—“

“you want to cum, yes?” he mused and you nodded gingerly. “you wanted to cum so bad, pathetically getting yourself off with my cock, yet now you’re shy?”—his lips pushed into a pout, one full just as much mockery as his tone of voice—“put that pretty cunt to good use then and be lucky my cock isn’t down your fuckin’ throat right now, baby.”

“but—“

“bounce on it. i’m not touching you.” he made himself more comfortable, arms still behind his head as he watched you intently.

shakily, you lifted yourself up on wobbly knees and dropped back down onto yeonjun’s cock. you screwed your eyes shut as you whimpered. you lifted yourself up again and dropped back down, skin slapping harshly against his. you were breathing heavily and the shaking all throughout your body only seemed to worsen. you heard your boyfriend snicker. “surely you can do better than that,” yeonjun deadpanned.

gulping as more tears formed in your eyes, you lifted your hips again and dropped back down. yeonjun sighed, grabbing your hips roughly as he fucked up into you. you cried out, briefly falling over before one of yeonjun’s hands pushed you back and you had no choice but to catch yourself on your hands. your chest heaved at the sudden switch in angle and you cried out once more, tits bouncing from his thrusts.

yeonjun stilled, hard cock still buried inside your weeping cunt, as he returned his arms back behind his head. “bounce.”

pushing yourself flat onto your feet, your body shook tremendously. with great effort, you used the last of your fleeting strength to lift your hips up and down. slowly, you dragged yourself across the length of yeonjun’s cock, eyes downcast to avoid his—no doubt—annoyed stare. “look at me,” you heard him say and the heat spread across your cheeks, embarrassment flooding you.

you dragged your eyes upward from his toned abs. yeonjun annoyance was clear on his face, features twisted in a borderline glare as his brows furrowed together. god, you felt yourself get even wetter—if it was even possible. he is just so goddamn hot when he’s pissed off.

“how the fuck am i suppose to get off to this? go faster.”

you babbled more apologies while nodding your head, but he wasn’t having any of it. you weren’t that sorry anyways. you secretly hoped that he would show you more pity and instead fuck you himself. “don’t be sorry, go faster. you’re pissing me off.”

you struggled out a breath and moved your hips again, legs shaking and hips bucking slightly as you tried to increase the pace but couldn’t. you were so close, so-so close. you dropped back down onto his cock, falling down onto his chest.

“alright,” you heard yeonjun mumble lowly next to your ear. you winced in pain, sharp cry leaving your lips from the sudden pain at your sore scalp. yeonjun pulled you back by your hair and sat the two of you up.

in the blink of an eye, you were pushed on your back—knees pressed tightly to your chest in a mating press as yeonjun railed into you. you begged for him to slow down through broken sobs but all he did was hiss out a cruel “shut up and fucking take it, desperate slut. you wanted me to fuck you like this, so i am.”

shrill moans left your mouth and you clawed at yeonjun’s back as your eyes rolled back from the pleasure. he was fucking you so deep that you saw stars, and he was right—it was exactly what you wanted. words died in your throat and your brows knitted together as the rope tightened in your stomach. you clenched down hard onto yeonjun’s cock and he moaned, head falling into the crook of your neck briefly, warm breath tickling your collarbone. “f-fuck! squeezing me so damn tight…”

wet noises and loud moans bounced off the walls, filling your ears and making you more aroused. yeonjun’s thrusts staggered and he dragged out, “fuck, baby…”

he pressed deep into you as his warm, white ropes of cum filled you to the brim once again. you whimpered, desperate to cum yourself. yeonjun’s head was thrown back, eyes rolled back and mouth wide open as the last bit of cum dripped out of him and into your cunt. he moaned, eyes opening to look down at you before leaning down to kiss you sloppily. he started to fuck into you again, rough and hard. you could feel his cum dripping from out of you at the process with its lewd noises.

you whimpered again loudly, kissing him back with desperation as tears wet your cheeks. “shut the fuck up,” yeonjun said against your lips. he pulled away from you and took his still hard cock out. you resisted the urge to whine as he pushed himself off of you and moved to the edge of the bed.

you laid on the bed alone, mind completely blank besides the want to finally be able to cum yourself. your body shook with a passion and you were filled to the brim and sticky with yeonjun’s cum. your poor, aching and abused pussy throbbed from both pain and pleasure and your scalp was on fire. still, you wouldn’t have it any other way. you’d do it all again in a heartbeat.

yeonjun returned, clothes on properly as he sat on the end of the bed and looked back at you. “c’mere,” he spoke, words soft like cotton. you didn’t think you could move, but you willed yourself to get up on your wobbly knees to crawl the short distance towards him. he bent you across his lap and landed a hard slap against your ass. you almost forgot about the soreness with how overstimulated your body was.

you reeled forward, a half shocked gasp and loud whine parting from your lips. yeonjun’s hand smoothed over your ass and parted your legs slightly so he could rub at your swollen clit. you inhaled sharply as you squirmed around in his lap but had nowhere to go with his other hand pressed firmly against your waist. “you act like a fuckin’ whore again and i’ll not only ruin your pretty little pussy—“ he leaned in next to your ear “—i’ll ruin that pretty face of yours too.”

yeonjun slapped your ass hard again, hand still sliding across your clit from the slick of his cum, as he laughed at your squirming. you breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he finally stopped and released you. “go clean yourself up, i’m not done with you yet.”

again, you willed yourself to move as you climbed weakly out of his lap. pain shot up for legs as you stood and it only got worse with each step you struggled to take towards the bathroom. you were almost halfway there when yeonjun called your name and you looked back at him.

his eyes trailed up your pathetically shaking body with a smug smirk, still sat in his same spot as before but with his arms crossed against his chest. “get ready to wrap that dirty mouth around my cock, baby.” he made eye contact with you, “and if you’re a good girl, i’ll finally let you cum.”

∿ [ continue on to . . . masterlist , taglist , request ] all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

🏷️﹙ want to be added to my permanent taglist? click here ﹚ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @spooksh0wbabe @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @riaawr @yeonjunsfox @nxzz-skz @rapmonie2047 @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @aaa-sia @jeonghaniehaee @todorokiskitten @seunghancore @lilyuwon @lxvantxr @quokkchan @who-tf-soddhi

© jjunieworld - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[httpsserene]

𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 “𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤”𝐞𝐝 - 𝐨𝐩. 𝟖𝟏

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: oscar’s girlfriend is feral on main. 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: crack. this is a shitpost, you have been warned. uh this is completely unrealistic, it’s pure vibes okay. this is not an accurate representation of those mentioned. 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!black!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: smau.

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: i wouldn’t consider myself an oscar girlie but then,,, i opened tumblr and saw the photos of oscar from when he went karting and um…now have another op 81 mess of a smau! this is completely unserious and it’s inspired by the nefarious actions i would do to oscar’s biceps. inspired by @dwarvenchords and @hookhausenschips ‘s reblog lol. it’s short but, enjoy, loves xxx.

insp. 1 | insp. 2 | taglist | feedback & requests | table of contents ↻

instagram

yninstagram • february 28th

view replies

oscarpiastri: love…you couldn’t even save this for the close friends stories? you had to post it on main yninstagram: did you like my joke? oscar “jack”ed piastri LOL im so clever oscarpiastri: ijbol 😐 yninstagram: i’d be pressed but ur muscles are distracting me oscarpiastri: u should cmere and give them a kiss :)

lilymhe: he let u tie a bow around his bicep?!!! omfg i have to do this with alex yninstagram: i don’t think alex has enough muscles to meet the requirement for the bow :/

landonorris: he’s such a simp landonorris: i would never let my girlfriend tie a bow on me 🥱 yninstagram: step 1: have a girlfriend

logansargeant: your freak out on twitter had a slight mentally-ill aura yninstagram: shut the fuck up and get on a podium before you talk to me yninstagram: gangly bitch + not funny didn’t laugh + L

instagram

yninstagram • february 28th • in between my boyfriends tiddies ⚑

liked by, oscarpiastri, mclaren, logansargeant, markwebber, and 1,223,458 others

yninstagram: things to do with your boyfriends muscles; listed in the comments below (a huge thanks to the toto user on twt for FINALLY sending me the photo)

tagged oscarpiastri

view comments

yninstagram 1. tie a bow around them (completed)

➥ user thx for sharing the photo

➥ user FUCK! I CAN’T FIND A PIECE OF PAPER TO WRITE THIS ON

yninstagram 2. kiss them (completed)

➥ user awh how cute! going to nap on the interstate rq

➥ user wait for me!

➥ user omg slumberpartyyyyy

yninstagram 3. touch them (completed)

➥ markwebber there’s a time i thought you were a normal girl

➥ yninstagram who told you to think that??

user i know those arms are rock solid 🥴🤤

user i’m the toto user on twitter !!! she did not kill me y’all !!!

➥ user u were flirting with death babes

➥ user i would not have admitted to this under her post

➥ user you should seek witness protection 🙏🏾

yninstagram 4. have him suffocate you with them (he said no)

➥ oscarpiastri WHY DID YOU INCLUDE THIS ONE

➥ logansargeant i think you’re proving the mentally-ill part y/n

➥ yninstagram u sound jealous logan

➥ user personally, i think if you didn’t want her to say that, you shouldn’t have muscles @/oscarpiastri

➥ oscarpiastri oh! yeah! why didn’t i think of that—lemme just take them off rq 😐 WTH

yninstagram 5. wall sex (?)

➥ oscarpiastri i specifically said not to say #4 and #5 in public

➥ user the question mark is SENDING MEEEEE

➥ yninstagram i mean, i can tell you that he didn’t say no to this one 😈 @/user

➥ landonorris i did not want to see this when i opened ig

➥ yninstagram do us all a favor then and delete ur account x

➥ oscarpiastri what she said^

➥ landonorris :o -> :(

yninstagram 6. draw on them (in progress)

➥ user wait this one is actually cute 🤭

➥ oscarpiastri watching the pure concentration on her face is adorable

➥ user omg she’s so 👉🏼👈🏼 coded

➥ oscarpiastri it tickles lol

➥ yninstagram ur moving around too much

➥ yninstagram might have to tie you to the headboard 😏

➥ user and she’s back on her bs

yninstagram 7. watch him flex for you (ongoing indefinitely)

➥ mclaren do we have your permission to post oscar thirst traps now?

➥ yninstagram i’m sure we could work out something mutually beneficial

oscarpiastri • february 28th • my girl’s basement ⚑

liked by yninstagram, danielricciardo, logansargeant, landonorris, and 1,478,539 others

oscarpiastri she knocked out on my chest halfway through drawing on me. didn’t know this was part of the boyfriend job description, felt like there was some false adverting. overall: 12/10 experience, will be doing this again.

view comments

danielricciardo didn’t know where this was going for a sec but fuck you guys are so cute 🥹

➥ oscarpiastri thank you? i guess

➥ user oh to have my relationship praised by danny ric

➥ user girl ur man responds to your texts two days late

➥ user DAMN u didn’t have to air out my business like thatttt

user WHAT DID SHE USE TO DRAW ON YOU OSCAR??? HELP A GIRL OUT

➥ oscarpiastri its liquid eyeliner 🫡

➥ oscarpiastri she used an eyeshadow palette when she wanted to add colors

➥ user why did i never think of that, she’s so smarttttt

user oscar piastri the MAN that u AREEEE

logansargeant so,,,,are we still getting dinner later orrrrr

➥ user LOL

➥ user omg y/n was right logan IS jealous

➥ logansargeant im not jealous !!!!

➥ user 💀

➥ user okayyyy….we believe you LMAOOOOO

➥ oscarpiastri ijbol 😂

➥ logansargeant stop using ijbol it’s not funny

➥ user this will be the only time that i say i agree with logan on something

➥ logansargeant ur literally a fan account FOR ME?? @/user

➥ user yeah man u didn’t have to bring that up 😒

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @tallrock35 @iloveyou3000morgan @smartstupyd @spideybv28 @loomiscorpse @hiireadstuff

© httpsserene2023

[qtboni]

╰﹒ 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒, 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 !

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

OVERVIEW: Simon woke up to you sleeping far away from him in the bed so he pulls you back to him <//3

C/W: none just clingy simon missing u in his sleep (pure fluff) !!

W/C: 944 bubs

Simon shifted in his bed, feeling the empty coolness beside him. He reached out, wanting to feel your warmth, but his hand met nothing but empty sheets and bed covers.

"Love..?" He whispers faintly, his voice filled with a quiet desperation to find you.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Simon slowly opens them to find you there, on the other side of the bed, lying with your back turned to him.

He lets out a quiet chuckle at the position you're in, your legs flung out in a starfish, snoring the night away. It's a silly sight, but it cracks him up, and he can't help but chuckle softly.

"Baby..." Simon sleepily whines to himself, calling out to you. "C'mere.."

Simon gently moves closer to you, pulling on the sheets to free himself. You feel his arm encircle your waist as he pulls you towards his warm body, spooning you in his arms.

Your skin meets his, and the warmth from his body causes your heart to skip a beat. You feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, feeling peaceful and safe in his embrace.

As he holds you close, Simon's thoughts drift to you. He thinks about how soft he is for you, how you make him feel alive and whole, how he doesn't want to let go, ever.

You're his everything, his world, and he can't imagine life without you. He feels his heart swell with love for you, and the need to be close to you and hold you tight, to never let you go.

With you in his arms, Simon feels complete. He would do anything to keep you close, to love and cherish you every day for the rest of his life.

You're the love of his life, and he will never forget the moment he first held you close, feeling your heart beat against his own, and knowing that he had found his soulmate.

As he holds you close, Simon's body moves instinctively, nuzzling his face in your neck, wanting to feel your warmth, to be closer to you. He wraps his arms around you tighter, unable to bear the thought of ever being apart from you again.

The warmth coming from his body slowly roused you from your slumber, your eyes fluttering open as Simon's arms tightened around your waist. You could feel his heart pounding against your back, beating in time with yours, and your heart skipped a beat in response.

"Simon?" You called out to him, voice still slightly hoarse from sleep, and you could hear the smile in his voice as he responded.

"I'm here, love," he whispered, his voice low and full of love, and you could feel his body pressing up to yours, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. His hands softly carressing your waist and hips. You felt his breath upon your neck, his heart beating in yours, and you felt a deep sense of peace wash over you.

"I love you," he whispered, almost inaudible.

As his arms wrapped around you, you felt a rush of warmth and comfort wash over you. His voice was low and gentle, and you could feel the love and intensity in every word.

You loved him more with each passing moment; each time he held you, each time he told you how much he loved you, and each time you felt his heart beating against yours.

"I love you, too, Simon," you whispered back, further relaxing into his embrace as you pecked his bicep that was hugging you close by your shoulders.

You could feel the love and intensity in every part of his body, from the warmth of his breath against your neck to the way his heart beat in time with yours. You knew that you would always be by his side, loving him and cherishing him for all eternity.

As you drifted back to sleep, his arms wrapped around you tightly, unwilling to let you go and wishing to always be this close. You could feel the love in every part of his body, and you knew that this was the love that could never be broken.

Simon pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of your neck, his breath warm and soothing against your skin, and you felt a pang of love and comfort wash over you.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, unwilling to let you go even for a moment, and he held you against him, feeling your heartbeat against his chest.

"Goodnight, love," he whispered, his voice low and filled with all the love he felt for you as he cuddled you close.

"G'night..." you sighed dreamily and closed your eyes.

As you drifted off to sleep, with your head resting against his chest, Simon couldn't help the rush of affection for you. He knew that you were the love of his life, that he would do anything for you, and that he couldn't imagine a future without you by his side.

Holding you close to him, he felt your heart beating slowly and regularly against his chest, and he felt a deep sense of peace wash over him. Every fiber of his being told him that he loved you, that you were everything he had ever wanted in life, and that he would always be there to protect you, to love you, and to cherish you.

He whispers your name softly, almost inaudible, as he drifted off to sleep, holding you tightly in his embrace. The love and intensity in his voice, in his touch, and in his eyes, was overwhelming, and he knew that you felt it too.

navi / masterlist !

[suiana]

yandere! priest and gn! succubus/incubus guys... omg...

he's a devoted little thing, so passionate to his religion and his god. his mind and heart are pure, never straying from his faith even when the most beautiful of people had thrown themselves at him.

and then you came stumbling right into his life.

you, a sex demon. all skimpy clothes, flirty and giving him bedroom eyes in a church. it was even worse that you had thrown yourself at him on your first meeting, clinging to his arm like some clingy lover.

"hey pretty boy~ wanna show me a good time?"

"the only good time i have is when I'm thinking of my god. do you want to join a sermon?"

maybe it was because he was so holy but he wasn't repulsed by you. flashing you a gentle smile as he allowed you to cling to him. oh, a sinner. how pitiful. it's no matter, if you repent enough and ask for forgiveness, he's sure that even god will accept you. he'll help you find the right path that is god. you've fallen right into his arms after all. it must be fate and perhaps he was meant to help you.

you don't quite share the same sentiment though.

you just wanna fuck that priest. his cute face, sweet little laughter... devil below you want that man. plus you hadn't fed in days... you're practically starving over here!

"come on... just some head? i bet your pretty mouth could be out to better use than some sermons."

"yes, a better use would be when I'm holding your hand and bringing you to the light of salvation."

he's always so calm and composed. all smiles and a calm demeanour that never exposes what he's feeling. even his eyes are smiling, damn. it's a bit scary that you can't accurately tell what he's feeling. the only thing you have is the slightly obsessive and unsettling darkness his eyes seem to contain. nah, can't be anything much. he's just a priest who wants to play hard to get.

it's infuriating, you think.

you continue to hold on a little longer. maybe he'll crack sooner or later? he's just a man after all... and you're a gorgeous thing meant for temptation... he'll give in right? right? you continue pestering him, clinging to his side as you ignore the horrified looks the other clerics and church goers give you as you beg for the monstrous dick you know he's packing.

but he doesn't show any signs of budging and you eventually try leaving because you're so starved that it hurts. like damn! you still need to feed! and if he's not gonna give it to you, you'll just find someone else!

however...

"where do you think you're doing?"

"huh? priesty boy? you following me?"

"yes."

"???"

you're confused as he practically rips you off of the random guy you picked off the street, dragging you back to the church with him. and all while he continued to smile at you like he always has. only this time, this smile harboured some... ill intent.

"oi at least tell me what you're doing-"

"i am going to punish you."

"punish?"

he stops in his tracks, turning to smile at you as hus grip around your wrist tightens painfully. you wince at the force he's using, desperately trying to tug your hand away. what the hell?

the priest doesn't let you. if anything, his grip only tightened even more. what's worse is that he's now punning you to the wall, caging you in as he stares down deep into your soul with his deep and unnerving eyes.

"yes, punish."

he continues to smile at you, simply caging you against the wall before his voice drops.

"it's the job of a priest to guide newcomers to repentance and i intend to do that with you. yet, you've almost committed an act of sin. i cannot allow that to pass, my dear."

what the- what is he doing?!

"you'll understand once I'm done with you. after all, the god above has personally given you to me as a mission and a gift."

he mumbles, leaning into your lips before his smile lowers into a creepy and unsettling smirk. bruh you might be a demon but this guy right here has got to be the devil's spawn or something. what is he yapping about? gift? mission? you just want some dick!

"hey I don't understand-"

"of course you don't. you're confused."

he cuts you off before you can say anything. his face way too close for comfort as you try sinking into the wall. um... you don't think you wanna play anymore...

"it's okay. I'll help you understand. I'll help you understand your true purpose and that is to repent and be born anew."

he pauses, tilting his head before his smile widens unnaturally.

"that way we can actually be together under the eyes of god. you want to copulate, yeah?"

huh? what's sex gotta do with this?

"after you've finally repented, I'll give you what you want. sex is an intimate and special thing between two people in love. don't worry, there'll be plenty of time for you to fall for me."

wait what?!

[whirlybirbs]

— BRUISED EGO ; PART ONE ; TOSHINORI YAGI ; 俊典

summary: you & toshinori have a great working relationship. all might is like a mentor. a great guy. a real, stand-up dude. a hero who inevitably has to help you deal with the side-effects of being hit with a love quirk. pairing: younger!toshinori yagi / f!reader ; hero name: derecho word count: 3.6k of pure smut tags: afab!reader, fingering, oral (female receiving), piv, denying feelings, toshi being a genuine lover-boy, someone has a praise kink, surprise it's me, minors dni a/n: i love young dumb full of cum late-twenties all might the tag | next →

"You don't look well—"

"Don't."

You could fry him right now. You could totally, absolutely, blast him with ten thousand volts and call it a night — but you can't, really, because he's fucking All Might. He's All Might and even worse, he's Toshinori Yagi. 

He's... kind. And gentle. And patient. And levelheaded... If not the single reason your entire life fell apart seven years ago.

(That is not true. You know it. You and your therapist have worked through that stuck point — but, it sounds a hell of a lot better than explaining the reason you ended up in prison was by your own actions, not being caught by All Might.)

You're reformed.

Blah, blah, blah, you're the Villain Rehabilitation Program's star graduate. 

They loved using your imagery — the ones of you before you got clean off those Quirk enhancers and put on the straight and narrow —in their PR packages. They love that picture of you — the ones with hands behind your back — cuffed by All Might as you're effectively muzzled by the local law enforcement.

Your lip catches in a snarl.

Don't think about that. 

Don't think about his hands on your wrists. Don't think about the way his boot nudged your leg apart for the frisk — don't think about the way he threatened you, so low and so dangerous, not to move. 

Don't think about how All Might is a bastard, and the media just doesn't know it. 

He's cheeky. Sly. When he's out of the limelight, that eerie #1 smile drops and he's almost normal — if not nearly five hundred and sixty pounds of muscle.  

Like now, on this rooftop, he's more like Toshinori Yagi. Your impromptu mentor in all things heroic. After all, the Hero Commission thought it would be great for the program's image if All Might, the man who arrested you countless times, was the one to integrate you into a more heroic notion. Never mind the dozens of times you went head-to-head with the man, never mind the handful of times you almost won. 

"Derecho, I'm serious," comes his voice; it's softer, almost like he's in his smaller form — the one you always find yourself being partial to, "You look feverish..."

Static snaps across the air and Toshinori takes it — the way it bites at the skin of his hands is nothing. It's a warning shot. Don't come any closer. 

"I was hit with that guy's quirk," you mutter as you try to square your breathing, "I'm fine, I just... Need some time—"

Son of a bitch. 

You've always been a hard one to shake — and even now, as you climb well into the Top Ten ranks, he's never seen you this out of it. You've taken a crowbar to the ribs and recovered better than being hit by some petty criminal's love quirk. 

Toshinori curses under his breath as he winces at the desperation cracking in your voice. 

"If you need to take the night—"

"Yes."

He was slotted to patrol this prefecture with you for another two hours — but seeing the way your whole body looks like it could collapse is... a bit concerning. Toshinori nods, exhales, and waves you on.

"Should I call Recovery Girl?"

Your boot toes the ledge. You need out of this outfit. It's too tight. You're too hot. Your skin feels like it's on fire and the embarrassing ache between your legs is just getting worse with every low, timbred syllable out of his mouth. Don't think about his mouth. 

"I'm fine." 

You're not fine.

Even when you're back in your apartment, trying desperately to shower off the skin-crawling, mouth-watering heat of desire, you can't even come close to relating to the word 'fine'. You're a mess. You try to stand under the heat of the water for a while, to burn the need off your skin, but that doesn't work. 

You're so not fine. 

You can't stop thinking about Toshinori. Must be something to do with the fact he was closest when you were struck with the quirk. Yea. Totally that.

You have to be fine. You need to be fine. This is just a stupid love quirk that will wear off within a few hours. 

Well, a few hours come and go, and it's just getting worse. 

Come on, you are torturing yourself with the evening news, just breathe it out. 

Because you're a hero, and you were a villain. You know what it's like to get hit with disconcerting quirks like this in the heat of a battle. With just a little time, it goes away. Right? 

Right...?

"I AM CALLING! I AM CALLING!" 

Your phone vibrates on the coffee table. Your pupils, full-blown and big, swivel to the photo that ignites the dark of the room. It's a photo of Toshinori — he's in his smaller form, posed beside you in a ramen booth close to U.A.'s campus. He was hellbent on giving you a tour of his old high school.

You always loved how cute he looked in that picture.

Fuck.

You snatch the phone up and answer the call.

"What?" it comes out snappier than it needs to be. 

"Are you doin' alright?" his voice has lost its persona'd gusto. You can tell, just by the soft way he speaks, he's no longer in uniform or on patrol. All Might has clocked out for the evening, and Toshinori Yagi is in the building, "I haven't heard a peep from you all night, zippy." 

Something in your brain goes blank at the nickname. You usually hate it. Usually, you'd bite at him for it. You don't even realize you're white knuckle gripping the edge of the couch as he continues to speak. 

"Y'know, it's okay — I've been hit by love quirks plenty of times before," he goes on; you can hear him juggle the phone to his other ear, "They aren't fun. I'm sorry you're—"

"Come over."

Toshinori almost drops the can of soda in his hands. In the middle of the convenience store aisle, he feels his entire body lurch. 

"What?"

Your head is back against the couch, your hands covering your face in sheer embarrassment. You grit it out again. "I said come over."

"Derecho—"

"I've tried everything," you mutter defeatedly into the phone; you can't even pull your hand from your face, you're so embarrassed you're even telling him this but you need help, "Fingers, toys, even the Hitachi on the highest speed, Toshinori, and I can't—"

Jesus fucking Christ. 

This is bad.

This is... not you. So not you. This is... fuck, okay, right. He's All Might. He helps people. And you're important to him. You're his enemy turned pseudo-protégé turned colleague turned woman-he's-been-ignoring-his-feelings-for-the-last-seven-months. You're Derecho. Number Eight Hero in Japan, his friend. His...

"Give me ten."

And he hangs up.

Two boxes of XL condoms earn him a severely skeptical look from the cashier, but it's fine. Toshinori has bigger things to worry about — like the fact he has no idea what this is going to do to your working relationship, but it's fine. You need help. He knows what this is like — and he would feel awful if he left you to deal with it alone. 

Fingers, toys, even the Hitachi— 

Maybe he'll die, actually. Maybe he'll just throw himself from the nearest roof. 

The mental image of you, alone in your apartment, hands between your thighs as you try desperately to shake the painful ache in your core has him walking a bit faster — your apartment is three blocks over. 

He makes good time.

His knuckles don't even touch the door before you're yanking it open — and Christ, you're a sight to see.

Wet hair, wild eyes, and a permanent heavy breath. The oversized t-shirt clinging to your shoulders is definitely going to be a topic of discussion for a later date. It's All Might merch. His fucking merch. 

When did you even buy that—?

"I'm sorry," you blurt out, looking pained. 

Toshinori's eyes hold your own. Then:

"I've always been a sucker for a damsel in distress."

He's a bastard. A serious bastard. A bastard who you're dragging in by the neck of his t-shirt — a bastard who doesn't complain in the slightest when your mouth is on his in a flash. With ease, he slams the front door shut with his boot and quickly allows you to guide him through your apartment. Your mouth is still latched to his, your hands digging into his shoulders as his hands chase your waist. 

You recognize in the heated haze of the kiss there's a grocery bag in his hand. It knocks against your hip as you accidentally back into the edge of the couch — your hands fumbling for some purchase in the dark living room. 

You pull your mouth from his just long enough to breathe out another apology. 

"Don't. We'll talk about it after," he says, leaning down over you as you scramble back against the leather couch cushions, "What do you need?"

"What do you think?" you hiss as his body presses against yours; he's still in his boots, still in his shirt and jeans. He's... too clothed. Your body couldn't handle anything except the less-than-flattering pair of cotton underwear and the biggest t-shirt you owned. 

You swear he's smirking in the dark. 

"Mouth? Hands?" he presses, his touch cradling your face as he continues to navigate your steady, bruisingly needy kisses, "Use your words."

"Anything—"

Your voice is a rasp, your hands scaling his back as he nudges your knees apart with his thigh and slots his hips against yours. Even in this smaller form, he's got the tactical advantage — not being near death from a fever so high you can hardly think anymore. 

"I need to know," he says as he leans back, his voice dipping lower as his palms brush the skin of your stomach. His fingertips hesitate at the edge of your waistband, and you whine. 

"Anything, Toshinori, stop jerking me around!" 

...What a brat. He almost laughs. But, then he remembers the one time he was left like this — and how desperate he was even after six hours of exhaustive attempts at self-pleasure. 

"Be nice," he chirps as his fingers slip beneath your underwear; his satisfaction builds when you fist the back of his shirt and gasp — his fingers grace the slick, wet folds of your core with ease. It's a tender movement, one that assesses just how pliable you are at this moment. 

And then, two of his fingers are pushing into you down to his knuckles. 

The babbled thank you bursts from your chest — and Toshi actually laughs at how fast you cling to his chest. He didn't anticipate his night going like this. Not with you, wild-eyed and desperate, pulling him into a kiss that's so bruising he thinks his lip splits.

Hands. Hands. Hands. His hands. One hand is between your folds, working you open, and the other is pressing up your curves and settling along your breast. You can't even think straight. The fact Toshinori is so slick, so eager, so good at whatever he's doing, is making the coil in your abdomen go white hot. 

"Fuck—" you strangle out, your lips parted in a gasp as he wets his own lips and watches your face in the dark, "G-God, okay, th-that's good—"

"Better than your own?" he asks, genuinely worried this isn't the progress you need to shake off the quirk's effects. 

"So much better," you wail, coincidentally fueling his ego in a way he never knew he needed. Because, ha, well — who knew Derecho, little miss spiteful and mysterious, just needed a little bit of him. 

"Is it enough?" he asks against her jaw, his forearm flexing as he works the pace up, his palm rubbing gently against your clit. It's an attempt at a coordinated pace, and it seems to be working from the way you're writhing beneath him. 

"I... I still — I can't — I'm so..." you look like you could cry out of sheer frustration, and Toshi suddenly feels a pang of guilt. He can only imagine how you've done this very thing over and over tonight, trying to just cum. Your voice cracks and you whimper, "I can't. I'm so close, but I just can't—"

"Okay," he breathes, his mind swirling with strategic planning, "So mouth."

"Mouth?" you choke, suddenly looking alarmed, but Toshi doesn't seem to care about the added snare of intimacy that comes with him slipping to his knees before the couch. 

Oh my god, he's on his knees. He's on his knees and he's grappling with your underwear, hauling it down the tops of your thighs before throwing it over his shoulder in a very Toshinori manner. 

You've got All Might on his knees. 

It suddenly hits you as he sits up on his knees and nudges your legs apart. He's a man on a mission — dedicated entirely to the task at hand. 

Making you orgasm. 

You wonder how many people have fantasized about this very thing — granted, he's not costume. Thank god. You can't even imagine what the conversation with his dry-cleaning team would look like. 

Toshi's voice knocks you back to reality. "Is this okay?"

He sounds concerned.

Meanwhile, you could kill him. If he doesn't put his mouth on you right now—

Noted. He sees the spark of annoyance, dumb question, and hauls your leg over his shoulder as he delves in. 

Ohmygod.

This is better — the coil is wound tighter, and a little bit closer to snapping, the second his tongue presses flat against your glistening slick. It's even better when he hums, his voice mumbles against your sex as his hands press your thighs to open a bit farther. 

"Keep 'em open."

"Don't talk," you heave between pants, "With your mouth full."

It's like the two of you are at work — this banter. But, his laugh vibrates your core and you moan. That doesn't happen at work. That doesn't happen, ever. A greedy part of you sure as hell hopes this happens again, because holy hell, he's good at this. Methodical. Strategic. Thorough.

His pace doesn't change, the pressure doesn't lessen. The blonde streaks of his fringe tickle the inside of your thighs as he continues his work — and you swear you almost cum when he slips a look up at you in the dark. 

His eyes are so blue that you feel like you're suddenly lost at sea. 

Then, there are two crooked fingers back inside of you. 

You and he are going to have to have a long talk about where he learned all this — because it's so good you genuinely can't do anything but reach out and grip his hair in a panic. You gasp, your whole body convulses, and you almost... almost cum. Almost.

It's Toshi's turn to moan. 

You're suddenly so oversensitive you swear your heart might stop. 

You're writhing away from him, squirming away, and Toshi's lips are parted as his breath fans across your core. 

"Cock," you're suddenly rambling, "N-Need — I need—"

"Right," he stutters, realizing this is good — you're almost there, he can tell. You're so close he can feel it in the air. The static electricity burning off your quirk leaves the room feeling tingly. 

He's wobbling back upright, cursing as he practically falls around the couch in the dark, and palms at the grocery bag he discarded on the floor. He's not graceful about the way he tears about the small box, or about the way he drops the foil square between his teeth as he leans back to work off his belt. 

"Bedroom?" he asks through gritted teeth.

You're nodding, practically falling over yourself to lead the way. Boots, jeans, belt, shirt — all of it is left scattered along the way, and your bare body hits the sheets after an easy shove from Toshinori. Of course, the boxers clinging to his strong thighs are his brand. The All Might logo is almost comical stretched across his hardness. 

You have the wherewithal to roll your eyes as he tears open the condom with his teeth. 

"What?" he shirks, looking down.

"Seriously?" you grit, legs pressed together tightly to try and stop the empty ache between your legs. It hurts. It hurts so much worse when his mouth and hands aren't on you.

"Don't even start," he rumbles as he rolls down the waistband and his cock springs free — he's quick to roll the condom down the thick length of it and lift a finger to wag in your face, "You answered the door in my merch—" 

"Setting the mood," you offer as he steps out of his underwear.

Toshinori then, unceremoniously, drags your hips to the edge of the bed. You almost shriek. It's a bit rough — a bit sudden — but you can't complain when the head of his cock is suddenly being guided through your folds teasingly. Up and down. Over the swollen bud of your clit, across your wet opening. You prop yourself up on your elbows, lips parted, as you try and nudge your hips closer. 

His large hand presses your hips down to the mattress. 

"Toshinori—"

"You sure this is okay?" he mutters, his pupils full-blown as he watches himself slip through your wetness, "I— If it's too much—"

"If you don't fuck me right now—"

"Right."

And he sinks in.

Ha. 

Yea. 

This is good.

You're so glad you didn't fry him earlier. You're so glad. You're so... oh, this is so so so ridiculously good you might die. You might die, because he's snapping his hips into yours and you can see the ripple of his muscles, even in this smaller form. 

His breath is ragged, his voice low and easy.

"You're doing a great job," he says; your core tightens at the sudden praise, "Y-You're doin' really... good—"

Your chest bounces with each thrust, your legs locked around his hips, your whimpers increasing in frequency with every single in and out of his cock. The feeling is better than any sex you've ever had — you've never been so aware of every inch. 

And then, he's knocking his forehead against yours, leaning over you — you're caged against the mattress, and one arm of his is holding your leg up around his waist. The angle change is minute but it's good. Everything is Toshinori so suddenly, everything is so blue eyes and a bright smile. 

It's thorough, a word you're slowly beginning to realize describes Toshinori to a T. There's not a single falter in his pace, not a single thrust that doesn't wind the white-hot orgasm tighter and tighter in your belly. It's worse when he holds your face, though, worse when he keeps fucking you so well while chattering on about how good you are, how strong you are, how beautiful you are—

Your composure snaps when he rumbles out:

"I know you can cum for me like a good girl."

The coil snaps.

Finally. 

After four hours of torture. After four hours of trying. Finally, you cum — and hard. The sort that robs you of your vision and hearing, the sort that has your whole body arching off the bed. The kind you haven't had in a long time. The kind that, of course, Toshinori Yagi would be the man to provide. 

"Fuckfuckfuck—" you babble, gasping, still gripped by the force of the orgasm as his pace quickens.

He's laughing — laughing, and then you're clamping down on him so hard he sees stars. It's all fun and games until he can't stop himself, he can't slow down, he can't breathe, and he's rocked by an orgasm that makes his knees give out. He's wild-eyed, panting, snapping his hips into yours as you whimper and gasp and grip his shoulders so tight he may have bruises. 

Toshinori swallows, then gasps to catch his breath, and then pushes himself up to give you a little room to breathe. His cock is still twitching inside of you.

Your eyes are closed, and your breath is fast. Your hair is spilled across the sheet — and you look content. Satiated. Peaceful. He's rarely ever seen you so tranquil. 

Blindly, and lazily, you reach up to touch his cheek.

At first, he thinks it's going to be tender. Intimate. Romantic.

Then, you roughly pat it twice.

"We're never gonna talk about this again."

Right. 

Because he's All Might. And you're Derecho. You're colleagues. Friends. This was just... him helping you. Like when a friend has a cold. You bring them soup. He... brought you... an orgasm. Just like soup.

Definitely.

...Right. 

"It was just, uh," he breathes, pulling out and cursing at the embarrassingly apparent load in the condom; not like he'd dreamed about this very thing for nights on end, no siree bob, "You needed help. I offered."

That is not what happened. Not even close. But, he's going to tell himself that.

Not like you totally won't think about this every single night ever for the rest of time. Definitely like you won't dream about the way he called you a good girl. Ha. Yea, right. Psh. You're fine. This is fine. Everything is fine.

After all, it's just Toshinori.

He's... kind. And gentle. And patient. And levelheaded... If not the single reason your entire life fell apart seven years ago.

And definitely not the reason your life is falling apart right now as you realize, fuck, you're definitely in love with him, aren't you?

Naaah.

[anantaru]

— does he like it when you're being clingy?

including wriothesley, neuvillette, kaveh, scaramouche x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff & crack, lots of physical touch, established relationship, kissies, love sick genshin men

— wriothesley

as much as wriothesley shows off his strong demeanor for the outside world to see, he cannot lie to himself when it comes to you— because the duke likes seeing you be clingy with him and search for his vehemence.

to him, there was nothing better than having your arms all padded up around him while you kiss his little worries away— so for all he cares, let the outside world call him bewitched if they must, or caught in an angelic spell for that matter. to wriothesley it didn't sound bad nor did he really give a damn about what a so called nobody would say about his life, alongside the fact that he found it quite amusing whenever they did talk about him.

the duke was exceptionally gentle with you, but sometimes he just wants to be able to see you love him in a whole differing modus other than you simply uttering out the three delicate words— in fact, wriothesley too, cares about you so much that he's trying to keep you around all the time, having you enveloped in his arms like he always daydreams of whenever you were apart from each other— hoping that you'd visit him so he could listen to whatever story you might tell him about.

now, was this a new feeling? well, yes. simply put, it was one he had never experienced before. the man had always been faithful, protective and nurturing in his life, so when love solidified the senses of his body, wriothesley was able to finally share his love with somebody.

what you did not know was that wriothesley was slightly frightened in the early stages of your relationship, to someone like the duke it wasn't particularly a breezy walk in the park to open up to another individual and realize that for the first time in his life, he was able to trust someone undoubtedly without fearing a possible mistreat.

now, he admits his love to you when he felt ready to do so, and when he does spell out the three words that bonded a relationship anew, your lips curl deeper into a passionate smile as he kisses the sides of your mouth.

your company alone was an important determination factor of his mood, and although he doesn't want to trouble you with his work, nor was he really allowed to share important and confidential details, wriothesley was certain that you would always be there to listen to him no matter what crossed his mind.

interesting how his heart has not once melted in his entire life prior to finding his soulmate. that's why in his eyes, there is no truer language than the language of love.

a cruel world that has been so cold go him surely wouldn't give him such wonderful gift?

alas, it did— wriothesley could feel it in his bones whenever you held him close to your chest late at night, his ear shell quietly pressed right above your heart. the silent vibrations place a pure tepidness of passion on his soul when he finds himself gradually softening to it, on all occasions smiling as he falls asleep in your arms.

— neuvillette

in the early stages of your relationship, when you had first placed your lips on neuvillette's, the three letter announcement evaporates from his tongue as fluid as when sunlight enters the raindrops and emerges as rainbows from afar.

and yes, much to his surprise he didn't die because of it, who would've saw that coming? although the iudex wholeheartedly believed that he would suffer from a cardiac arrest due to the vast bursts of anxiety gradually chugging away his confidence.

"can i sit on your lap?" you smile gently, unsure whether his silence is that of enthusiasm or distaste.

neuvillette can hardly register it at first before he presses out a pathetic little yes when his excitement reaches the roof of his head and violently breaks through it, showing you those open and loving eyes that were the golden entry to his soul.

you hear a deep, breathless pant when you sit on him, witnessing how a hefty amount of redness catches up to his face until battering his ears, ultimately coaxing out a shiver from his spine.

don't misunderstand his unusual reactions— but neuvillette couldn't quite fathom that you belonged to him and sought out his body like that, it's always special when you nonchalantly rounded your hands on his face and replenished his energy anew, as if his frame was reborn in its most perfect form solely when he felt your trace.

and so, he cannot get enough of your warmth— no wonder when you remind yourself of the pure emotions that he harbored deeply for you.

instinctively, you rest your body against his chest, a soft glow rounding up your facial features, "ah, can't wait until you're done with this," you huff and point at his office desk being crowded by a bunch of papers as you press a small peck against the tip of his nose, ruffling his hair a little.

"it is rather late, you mustn't stay here," he insists, a barely distinctive curve of his lips turning all the difference in the choice of his tone.

"oh? does that mean you want to get rid of me?" how terribly skilled you were when you soaked your words in viscous sarcasm— so skillful in fact that neuvillette would always fall for it head first, or that's what you thought.

he raises a brow before curving one arm around your waist, leaning you against his chest so you wouldn't be able to move an inch, even if you tried.

"now," he playfully scolds, "you, my love, couldn't be farer from the truth."

"and here i thought you must know me by now?"

"i'm joking with you!" you panic, battering his cheek with little kisses as if he didn't know— but neuvillette sees how happy you were whenever you believed you fooled him.

he cocks an eyebrow at you, his mannerism in a questioning stance.

"apologies, aren't jokes supposed to be humorous?"

you scoff, "hmpf, now you're just mean!"

— kaveh

from an outer perspective, one couldn't possibly figure out who was clingier towards the other person— and even with someone being a close friends of the both of you, it's beyond the bounds of possibility to crown a winner.

you or kaveh? who yearned for the attention of the other more? to answer such difficult question, you should first know of the moniker a certain scribe has given you, in fact, within your friend-group kaveh and you had instantly claimed the title of most insufferable couple.

you might wonder, was that a bad thing? oh well, not at all!

and kaveh doesn't even attempt to conceal the priceless smirk on his face whenever he heard his roommate address the both of you as that— it turned him deeply fulfilled that everyone was able to see how crazy he was about you.

your heart feels full by his comforting arms that each throb rattles across your limbs and muscles, feeling weightless at the welcoming cradle— your love being whole, one touch and a gentle kiss on the lips and you feel on a bed of roses, tucked up in velvet.

"what is it?" kaveh leans at you, raising a brow at the way you peak behind his shoulder. during closer inspection, you catch up on a sneaky little smirk that frames his lips the more you focused on what's behind him, "c'mon baby, tell me," kaveh kisses your cheek.

"i think they're calling us insufferable again." you point behind his shoulder, specifically at a table with three people— one wholly focused on the cards in his hands and remaining unbothered while the others sneakily glanced over to you every now and then, whispering incoherent mumbles into each others ears with their palms covering their lips.

and your words don't achieve anything besides making him all the more amused when he wraps his arms around your waist, it's evident, very much so but kaveh was fond of the situation— perhaps he even prided himself on it, he has the audacity to act surprised though.

he laughs, nudging the tip of his nose against your jaw, "they're probably just talking about a way to beat cyno in tcg."

he continues, "we should leave early," and states firmly, "but i think alhaitham took my keys again."

"how does this always happen?" you note tiresomely before dropping your head onto his shoulder— a little too dramatically so that the scribe picked up on it immediately, revealing a triumphant smirk.

perhaps that is why they say love is such magic, this gift from the universe that was unable to be compared, this sweet addiction that no matter what situation you were in, big or small, if it's the two of you facing it together, it was nothing.

— scaramouche

even if scaramouche doesn't straight out admit it to you, he likes it whenever you were clingy with him— and after a good while of you two being in a relationship, he will more and more show his genuine love of it until he’s practically playing with the thought of begging for more.

in the beginning it starts by how fast his cheeks flame red and his focus dwindling as you hug him. after that particular encounter scaramouche memorizes what you did and decides that this must be a proper way to greet you as well— maybe even give you a little kiss on the cheek if he's feeling like it.

scratch that, what he lacks was the courage to go that far.

but no matter how often you would greet him this way, the action alone send him spiraling, shyly snuggling closer to you, inch by inch, although not risking it to hold eye contact and instead averting his gaze as he attempts to indulge in it nervously— stiff as concrete with both arms frozen on each side of his body when you wrapped your limbs around him.

he leans into your touch and closes his eyes— how warm, it's as if the sun itself would shine down on him and prickle on his skin, you feel so whole, like a home.

your touch, it's difficult to explain besides the fact that it carries such passion, and before scaramouche could register it— what was once scarred long ago expresses gentleness all of a sudden. 

although not everything from his past could be forgotten, yet your presence made it bearable.

what was also a crucial task to scaramouche was his recent curiosity in understanding the concept of love and how he fell for it— while he ultimately came to the conclusion that the only way to understand love is to feel it, attempt to embody it, or embrace it in its complete form. 

next time, you greet him with a blank look on your face as he applies your method on you first, slightly catching you off guard as he welcomes you home almost wordlessly, taking your hand in his cold one when he pulls you into a hug— it is a silent engage and the way he practically dragged you into him made your forehead smack his shoulder.

thankfully scaramouche doesn't have to speak in order for you to understand what he was trying to signalize here.

what's following next would be considered even sillier than him blatantly copying you, but when the two of you walk alongside each other through the hustling streets of sumeru city, you flinch a little at a strong grab on your hand ambushing you, "hey, nope— hold on, stop walking and give me your hand dammit," scaramouche scoffs as he chases after it, when with a quick motion, he traps it finally and tangles his digits around your own.

"there's no fun if i make it easy," you wink, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his jaw, "i like the faces you make when you're mad, you know? your expressions are so cute."

"don't you realize you're wasting time like that?" scaramouche clicks his tongue before squeezing your hand in his grasp, letting out an audible hmph before turning his head towards the street.

"honestly? that's fine by me," you coo softly, smothering him with the attention he craves as more of your fingers dig into the soft flesh of his palm.

"as long as you still love me, of course."

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