#when she was a puppy because she was so clingy

[judeaiology]

𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 ·˚ ༘

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ┆ 𐙚 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 , 𝐊𝐘𝐀 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐔𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐉𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒 , 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 .ᐟ

𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 .ᐟ

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒)𐙚 : 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 , 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄 , 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐏 𝐔𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 , 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 , 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 , 𝐌𝐘 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 .ᐟ

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 𐙚 : 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐘.ᐟ

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

𝐉𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒 , 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐊𝐘𝐀 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 , 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐄 - 𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒 , 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐗𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐘.

no matter how many girls chased her first love , or the amount of hate kya had to 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐞 just because she was inlove with this random girl from watts , she deeply loved judea - every fiber in her bead - until the light left her doe brown eyes , if they had a song that described there love it would be butterflies by queen naija , yea there that deep.

recently after ju had committed to the university of southern california - she'd been distant if it wasnt her at practice- or an interview or at another stupid as frat party - ju wasnt there , not mentally of physically for kya.

and yes kya was clingy she had every right too judea was her's there was no question- right.. ? but another person had gotten in her ear again about ju - cheating - or some stupid ass rumor and after her mother told her - "save the hurt before it happens" kya had to commence , this random girl from watts would be the death of her.

so there she was in her coconut scented bathroom as her humidifier warmed the atmosphere , her chubby tattooed legs - rocking back and forth onto the counter as she sighed - she wore her pink silk nightgown , her quick weave was in a claw clipped bun - her oily palmers scented body - her white pretty manicured feet - she exclaimed, "..ju..!" she yelled her voice echoing through her one bedroom apartment , wiping below her doe eyes - her eyelashes brushing up against her henna tattooed chubby fingers.

the door opened and there revealed a unamused judea on the other side as she yawned - her hair was in a low bun that had waved from water condensation - her black sports bra which hugged her b cup sized breasts.

and her red usc basketball shorts which were low enough to show the waistband of her hanes boxers , and she smelt of vanilla - a very musky and sexy scent kya found herself turning gummy for everytime.

"..hm..?" ju hummed - closing the door behind her leaning onto the white door , her hooded eyes fluttering- as her eyelash clusters brushed under her eye bags.

"..baby.. i .. ive been doing some thinking .. " kya muttered , looking down at her chubby fingers - causing ju to walk up to her - standing in between kya's chubby legs - taking her jaw forcing kya to make eye contact - "..eye contact ma.. you know ion like when you look away from me ..." judea's raspily voice reminded , her eyebrows furrowing - kya quivered waktins always had a way of making her weak without actually doing it - it was like she was eye fucking kya.

"..baby .. w.. we need to take a break.." kya trembled - giving ju puppy dog eyes with a pout as ju stroked kya's jaw - "..basketball.. h.. has been taking up most of ur time .. a.. and i just .. i cant keep feeling like ur cheating .. if its not a frat party its some girls in ur dms .. i just.." kya frowned- her chubby cold hands holding onto ju's waist , as she took exhaled - her chest rising.

ju licked her lips - admiring the brownskin whom she towered over - ju wouldn't dare cheat on kya - this insecure girl had seen her through hell n back , ju just needed to manage her time , but she needed to remind kya on who she was fucking - ju without any words - smirked , as her face hardened.

as she took the back of kya's chubby neck , placing kisses in the crook of her neck - her raspy voice mumbled in the crook of the fems neck.".. you think.. somebody else can fuck you better than me ..?" ju questioned her voice mumbled in kya's crook - leaving love marks on williams , kya trembled her breaths were unsteady as she tightened her vagina , and her nipples began to harden.

"..n.. no.." williams stuttered , as she turned her head to the medicine cabinet mirror - gulit trailing on her face as she felt horny just from neck kisses.

ju released from kya's neck placing one last peck before her plump lips connected kya's round one - "..open.." watkins mumbled in between the light pecks , holy shit , ju was practically ignoring everything she had just said !

kya whimpered opening her mouth, letting ju's wet pink tounge enter , as she explored william's mouth - the taste of her minty spit mixing with ju's sweet bubblegum taste.

"..ju please.." kya moaned - biting ju's lip , ju released from the kiss tightening her grip on kya's neck - "..hey , you know what you started ma.. , let me show you why you havent left me yet.." ju smirked - her tone sly as her hands slid down to kya's thighs - as she released her veiny hands from kya's neck to lift up her night gown to the middle of kya's stomach her pouch popping out , kya whined , "..j.. ju just listen.. - " the brown skins rant was cut short

"..youn even got panties on .. " ju teased chuckling , placing her lips back on kya's - there slippery pink tounges moving in sync as they explored each others mouths , as her fingers teased kya's shaved flaps , "..this the pussy u thought i was finna let go..?" ju mumbled in between her tounge makeout session , her voice demanding.

kya's legs began to shake as ju rubbed onto her clitoris brushing up against her warm flaps - "..f..fuck.." kya babbled her hips buckling - holding onto ju's neck , ".. cant nobody even get you as wet as i can .." ju reminded as kya's lubricant slushed around onto ju's long toned fingers , as she took slight grins , her breathes heavying.

"..b.. baby please.." kya's hips thrusted as she began to ride ju toned veiny fingers her rubs pace increasing by the minute - as she released from the kiss - her head going back as the trail of salvia came from kya's mouth causing kya to wipe below her chin biting her lip , ju slipped her index and middle fingers into kya's vaginal opening , causing the pink headed girl to whine.

her warm gentle walls - causing ju to bite her lips as she licked the salvia that came from kya's lips , her thick eyebrows suddenly rising - as kya's head layed back on the mirror - ju took the fems neck - kya groaned - her voice starting to whine - "..b.. baby im sorry.." she cried - as ju's fingers curled - hitting the chubby girls g spot , "..oh fuck..!" kya practically shouted , her chest rising.

"..you so tight , ma fuck.." ju groaned admiring at kya's trembles as watkins kept jamming her fingers into kyas warm opening - her rhythm fastening by the minute, kya's warm juices dripping and splurging out - the skins slapping inside the echoing bathroom , as ju's palms slapped against the flaps.

kya's chubby fingers gripped onto the counter- her doe eyes rolling back - as her mouth slighty opened - her whimpering and moaning giving an ambience as she felt a sudden knot in her stomach - being music to ju's two hole pierced ears , "..judea..!" kya squirmed, her legs beginning to tighten and close in which only fastened ju's pace.

"..cant no body even make you squirm the way i do.." ju said hoarse , "..holy fuck! .. im close.." kya squirmed as the electric waves shot through her body and she felt she could see the light , her face flushed from pleasure , her legs shaking from each curl that judea made , "..cum for me , mama.." ju instructed her dark eyes admiring kya - and the way ju could only see this pretty pussy - and how kya was strictly disclosed for her and her only , her gaze gentle.

kya released her warm juices all over ju's fingers - her liquids dripping all over the counter , ju held her fingers in there for a second before releasing making a pop sound as it echoed , kya's breathe was hefty in a sweat - as she bit her lips - her light brown colored eyes meeting with a satisfied ju who tasted all of kya's juices.

"..fuck .. ma you taste amazing.." ju chuckled , watching kya's chest rise , as ju began licking her fingers clean."..but we aint done yet.." ju finished , causing kya to groan with a pout , as ju gave a sly smirk.

ju tapped the eight point five inch strap on kya's puffy pussy it still throbbing from the foreplay , as kya was stripped biting her lips, looking up at the six four athlete , her legs curled as she kept a whine as she knew what was to come , her eyes doeing.

"..open.." ju instructed her eyes drifting down to kya's mouth , kya obliged opening her mouth sticking out her pink slim tounge , ju's jaw swished as she spat in kya's mouth , causing the girl to whimper as she swallowed.

ju took kya's chubby waist , as she rubbed circles into her back - her pouch getting pushed in - as the clear silicone strap inserted her tight cunt , kya's head began to go back as there master bed began to squeak from the fasten in ju's pace , ju felt euphoria as she loved giving kya everything.

"..mommy..!" kya squealed , her manicured toes touching onto ju's stomach and kya's back arched - as she felt electric waves send through her body - and her heat aroused , as she quickly took a grip onto her c cup sized breasts her white stilettos nails jabbing into her skin.

"..mm who owns this pussy ky..?" ju question her eyes narrowing as her thumb rubbed kya's clit , her strokes deepening , "..fuck.. y.. you ju.. only you..!" kya babbered as her chest rose and her mouth opened as she took gasps releasing from her breasts , taking ju's wrists which only made her go faster. ju hummed with a groan as she railed the pretty girl , "..always and forever ma .." ju smirked , with a lip bite as her spit hydrated her crackling lips , the sounds of kya's squeals and the sound of cars honking in the city of los angeles giving an ambience , in the densed air atmosphere.

𝐄𝐌𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐀 | 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

[nanamisgirly]

you're bit too possessive toward your nerdྀི

the moment you spot them through the glass wall of the library study room, something primal inside you snaps.

your nerd. your sweet, tall, stuttering nerd.

and some other girl leaning all over him. all giggles and twirls of her stupid hair, looking up at him like he hung the stars. you can practically see the way her fingers brush “innocently” against his forearm. and gojo—this sweet, beautiful idiot gojo. he's just smiling, shyly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, completely, utterly oblivious of the advances the girl is making.

you see red. not the cute, flirty kind of jealous. no. 

you see murder.

by the time you stomp into the study room, he lights up the second he sees you—like a golden retriever seeing its favorite person. “babyy!” he blurts, half-standing so fast he nearly knocks over the chair. his knees bang the table. his pen scatter. he's flushed pink already, hands fidgeting with the hem of his stupid neat sweater, beaming at you like you're the sun itself.

meanwhile, the girl beside him falters, confused as hell when you swoop in, grab a fistful of his collar and yank him down into a messy kiss—a possessive and mean one, kissing him like you're marking him, like you're making a fucking declaration.

gojo gasps against your mouth, stunned, but immediately melts, tilting his head to give you more. he kisses back with desperate little noises, afraid if he doesn't, you'll change your mind and leave. when you pull back, he's breathless, blinking at you all dazed and drunk, glasses slipping halway down his nose. “i missed you…” he whispers.

you don't answer him, to focusing on the other girl. staring straight at her awkward form peeking up her books, face pale. you tilt your head and smile—sharp, unfriendly, a predator showing teeth. she scurries away without a word.

gojo blinks between you and the empty chair, confusion pinching his brows. “she…left? we didn't end the explanations—”

you grab his jaw in one hand, squeezing his cheeks until his lips squish pouty. “you,” you hiss, leaning so close your breath fans his pink ears, “are so fucking stupid, satoru.” his wide, panicked eyes blink down at you. “i-i am?” he stutters, looking on the verge of tears just because you're mad at him. “i-i didn't even—i mean…i was j-just doing the private lesson…i-i told you about it!” he babbles, desperate. not understanding a thing.

you shake his head a little by the jaw, making his glasses slip down worse. “yeah, yeah. i agreed on a private lesson." you snarl, voice dripping poison-sweet. "not private fucking sex.” you yank his wrist, dragging him out of the little study room, ignoring the curious heads turning to you. 

satoru stumbles after you, tripping over his own feet—over himself just to keep up. “y-you're mad,” he whines, almost breathless, cheeks burning red. “w-what did i…i didn't—”

his voice gets smaller when you spin around, shoving him back hard against the nearest wall. his back thuds against the cold surface, and he freezes up, chest heaving. “you really don't get it, huh?” 

that dumb, pretty face of his—lips pink from your previous kiss and from him nervously chewing them, his glasses crooked, his hair all messed up—god, you could eat him alive. “you let that clingy bitch touch you like that?” you spit. “smile at her like that? let her giggle and bat her lashes like you didn't already have someone who should be the only thing you look at??”

satoru is practically vibrating in place, like a kicked puppy. his Adam's apple bobs hard when he swallows. “i-i didn't notice!” he chokes out. “i swear, angel, i didn't! i-i didn't even l-look at her. .” your nails scrape up his chest through his hoodie, making him whimper. “you're mine, aren't you, 'toru?” he nods so fast you think he might give himself whiplash. “y-yes!! yours! of c-course, only yours!”

your hand snakes lower, palming the half-chub tenting his sweats. poor thing :( so quick to get hard just from yelling at him. “you're lucky you're cute,” you snap, but your heart is hammering at how real the panic was in his voice. 

you squeeze him through the fabric. his hips jolt into your hand with a pathetic little gasp. you watch his pretty white lashes flutter, poor boy was genuinely confused why you're so pissed—poor sweet nerd who only ever wanted you :((

you click your tongue. “my pretty nerd,” you mock sweetly, squeezing his cock harder through his pants, making his knees buckle. “getting hard just ‘cause i’m scolding you? bet you'd cum just from me slapping your face.” 

“i-i could! i would, i-if that's what y-you—ah!—want,” his mouth works uselessly searching for words, his brain short-circuiting because your hand's still lazily stroking him through his sweats. you lean up, biting his jaw hard enough to make him whines. 

"you’re gonna make it up to me," you murmur against his skin, voice syrupy sweet. "gonna let me use you however I want. gonna be a good boy for me, huh, satoru?" he was towering over you but he was so, so submissive.

he nods so fast again his glasses damn near fall off. "a-anything," he breathes. "please. please let me—lemme be good—i'll be so good, promise!"

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤYOUNG LOVEㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Robins x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : How Would They Be As Your Boyfriend?

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne.

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

— DICK GRAYSON ⋆

Affection Overload: Dick is all about physical affection. Hugs, kisses, holding hands—he’s constantly touching you. If you’re in public, expect him to have an arm around your waist or your hand in his at all times.

Grand Gestures: He loves making big romantic statements. Random flowers delivered to your class? Check. Swinging into your bedroom window just to say goodnight? Double check.

Jealousy Level: Surprisingly chill, but only because he’s confident. If someone flirts with you, he’ll swoop in with a smug smile and casually remind them that you’re his.

Protective Side: He’s sweet and easygoing most of the time, but the second he thinks you’re in danger, he turns into serious protector mode. He’s not above scaring people off if necessary.

Clingy but Cute: He hates being away from you. Even if you’re just apart for a day, he’ll text or call constantly. "Miss me yet? Because I miss you."

The Cheerleader Boyfriend: Dick is your biggest fan. Whether you’re pursuing a hobby, trying something new, or just having a bad day, he’s there hyping you up like, “You’re amazing, don’t forget that.”

Drama King: If you ever fight, expect him to show up at your door with flowers, chocolates, and the saddest puppy-dog eyes you’ve ever seen. He cannot stand the idea of you being upset with him.

— JASON TODD ⋆

Acts Tough but Is a Softie: Jason tries to play it cool, but deep down, he’s so soft for you. You’ll catch him staring at you like you hung the moon, and he’ll deny it every time.

Overprotective: Jason is feral when it comes to your safety. If anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, he’s ready to throw hands. “You okay, babe? Need me to deal with them?”

Big on Small Gestures: He’s not a grand-gesture kind of guy, but he’ll quietly leave your favorite snacks on your desk or slip a note into your bag that says, "Have a good day, idiot."

Jealousy Level: Off the charts. Jason tries to play it cool, but the second someone flirts with you, his hand is on your waist, and his glare is lethal.

Supportive but Real: Jason is your rock. He’ll always be there for you, but he’s not afraid to call you out if he thinks you’re being too hard on yourself. “Stop beating yourself up. You’re amazing. End of story.”

Loves Quiet Time Together: He’s happiest when it’s just the two of you curled up on the couch, watching movies or reading. Those moments mean the world to him.

Secretly Romantic: Jason pretends he’s not into cheesy romance, but he’ll randomly do something that makes your heart melt, like showing up with a book he thought you’d like or quoting poetry at the most unexpected times.

— DAMIAN WAYNE ⋆

Awkwardly Affectionate: Damian isn’t great at expressing his feelings verbally, so his affection comes in the form of small, thoughtful actions. He’ll make sure your tea is brewed perfectly or bring you handmade gifts.

Possessive but Polite: Damian hates sharing your attention. If someone flirts with you, he’ll politely (but firmly) remind them who you belong to. “I believe you’re wasting your time. She’s spoken for.”

Jealousy Level: High but controlled. Instead of losing his temper, he’ll subtly outshine whoever is trying to steal your attention. “Ah, yes, you’ve met my girlfriend. Isn’t she magnificent?”

Protective in a Subtle Way: He’s not loud about it, but Damian is always watching out for you. If someone wrongs you, he’ll handle it quietly and efficiently. “You’ll find they’re no longer a problem.”

Always Wants to Impress You: Damian is constantly trying to prove himself to you, whether it’s through his art, his fighting skills, or his intellect. He’s desperate for your approval, even if he pretends he’s not.

Secretly Vulnerable: Behind his confident exterior, Damian is terrified of losing you. He doesn’t know how to handle those emotions, so he’ll sometimes withdraw until you reassure him.

Over-the-Top Romantic in Private: When it’s just the two of you, Damian lets his walls down. He’ll read you poetry, kiss your hand, and whisper how much you mean to him.

How They’re Similar

All of them are incredibly protective of you and hate seeing you hurt or upset.

They’re obsessed with making you happy and will go out of their way to ensure you feel loved.

Whether they’re soft and sweet or intense and dramatic, they all love you with their whole heart—and they’re not afraid to show it.

— MASTERLIST ☆⁠

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[mikenikez]

vi x reader !! ─ ㅤ⃘🥊 arcane ໑

summary: vi who takes a liking to you. (just a little too much) cw: sfw & nsfw, men & minors dni!! obsessive stalker!vi, sort of clueless!reader, perv!vi, modern au, mentions of alcohol + past abuse (?), service top!vi, sub!r, oral (r!receiving)

vi, who meets you at some random bar in zaun—vi, who practically saves your life from some old man who couldn’t take a hint. she didn’t care that she just got kicked out of her favorite bar, didn’t care about the bloody sting of her knuckles either. she just wanted to make sure you were okay.

vi, who starts to show up everywhere you do. it’s not like you think much of it, though. she’s sweet—and the part of town you guys live in isn’t that big. she soon became one of your close friends, of course—who wouldn’t wanna be close with someone like her? she’s so sweet and caring, so pretty, so strong—

vi, who is normally such a flirt, always so charming and handsome—yet she’s such a nervous puppy when it comes to you. her face is always flushed a pretty shade of pink as she stumbles over her words (and feet), trying to figure out what makes you laugh.

vi, who shows a little too much concern when you start to feel like you’re being watched, who starts to stay at your house to “protect” you. she sleeps on the couch in your living room, claiming that she doesn’t mind—though her back aches each morning.

vi, who gets a little too drunk at a bar one night, stumbling into your room while you’re sleeping, her mind turned to mush just by the sight of you curled up into a ball under your blankets. so cute, she thinks to herself. just one look won’t hurt—you won’t even realize, you’re so clueless.

and she was right—you don’t even mention the pair of underwear stolen from your laundry basket the next morning.

vi, who holds you while you cry, who comforts you when you say you’re scared. scared of whoever has been following you around for the past few months, scared that they’ll eventually get you. things like this had happened previously—a few years back with a creepy ex girlfriend of yours. you don’t even think about the culprit being vi—no, she’s too nice. she doesn’t have the heart to do that.. right?

vi, who can’t accept the fact that she is a bit perverted—telling herself that each time she shoves her hand down her pants when you leave is just her relieving stress—and not the fact that she’s completely obsessed with you.

infact—right now, she’s sprawled out on the couch, boxers pulled down to her knees as she muffles her whines of your name into a pillow. she thought you had left for work already—but apparently not, because she can hear your soft footsteps in the hallway. shit. shit, shit, shit.

she’s sitting up and pulling her boxers on, wiping her fingers on the couch just as you appear in the living room—greeting you with a warm smile. “uh—morning..” she chuckles nervously, face flushed red as she tried to act like her needy little hole wasn’t dripping just for you.

“morning, violet,” you would yawn, rubbing your eyes before plopping down on the couch, leaning against vi. it was a common thing for you to do, if anything you were almost clingy—always pressed against vi in some type of way when she was near. but right now? you’re sick. it’s just a cold, really—but you’re acting like it’s the end of the world.

vi, who doesn’t mind making you feel better when your sick.

her head is buried between your legs, the bump of her nose nudging against your clit as you tug on her hair, letting out nasally whines. she didn’t know how long she had been at this—but it didn’t matter. you had called into work, and she definitely wasn’t stoping anytime soon.

“shit! vi!—” your thighs clamp around her head, heel digging into her back as you practically use her face to get off, cumming for what, the third time? you had lost count. but god—you tasted heavenly. vi was sure she wasn’t moving. ever. and she definitely couldn’t tell you about the mess in her pants.

vi, who never admits that she was the one stalking you—but that’s fine. she’s not very good at hiding things.

note: please tell me if this is tagged incorrectly!! I normally don’t post my fics

taglist: @j1nxluv

want to be added? ask me!

[not-neverland06]

n a s t y d o g I logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

One-shot A/N: I've never felt this way about a fictional character before. Every gif I see of him has me gnawing and biting at the bars of my enclosure. I want to bite him. If Hugh Jackman ever discovered what thoughts lurk inside my rotted brain about him he'd get a restraining order. This isn't OKAY Anyways... Summary: You'd thought you'd had a good thing going with Logan. You weren't officially anything to each other, but you were getting close. You truly saw a future with him, but he made it incredibly clear he did not feel the same 18+ HATE FUCKING (MDNI)

(one chance please, just one chance with him)

“Are you sure this isn’t totally clingy girlfriend of me?”

Ororo gives you an irritated look and Jean laughs. “Not at all, Scott loves it when I surprise him like this.” You’re all huddled in your room, each of you in varying stages of getting ready. Jean is finishing off her eyeliner at your vanity, Ororo is putting on her boots, and you’re trying to decide between a skirt and a dress. 

You’re not entirely sure how, or why, Logan and Scott decided to go to the bar together tonight. You suspect it has something to do with Jean. She wants them to start getting along so there’s less friction when you’re all around each other. 

At Jean’s idea, Logan had muttered, “When hell freezes over,” in your ear before he had left for the night. You’d gotten a little antsy without him to entertain you and had mistakenly blurted out the idea of going to visit them. Ororo had been dying to get out of the house and Jean was a little worried about her boyfriend as well. They’d agreed to go along with you and you’ve felt a weight in your stomach ever since. 

Your relationship with Logan was relatively new. Hell, a month ago you’d thought he’d hated you the same he did Scott. You’d, of course, been proven wrong when you’d had a few drinks with him and things had taken a very physical turn. 

You weren’t sure if he’d just wanted a one-night stand or something serious. But when you’d tried to sneak out the next morning and he’d muttered a grumpy, “Where’re you going?” You’d gotten your answer. 

You hadn’t been on any real dates, there didn’t ever seem to be time for them. But you spent most of your days together. Sometimes just silently enjoying each other’s company, other times you would be holed up in one of your rooms cuddling. The thought always brings a stupid lovesick grin to your face. 

It’s one of your first real relationships and you’re worried that things are moving a little too fast. At least on your end. You can already tell that you’re falling for him. Headfirst into the deep end of love. And it’s terrifying because you truly cannot tell what he thinks about you. Clearly, he likes you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t let you follow him around like a lost puppy. 

But he’s never truly said anything to you. There’s no official label as to what you two are. You say girlfriend off-handly and you usually don’t mean it when you reference yourself. You’ve never outright said he’s your boyfriend and he’s never really claimed you. He’s made it explicitly clear he doesn’t want you sleeping with other men, and you’ve said the same to him about women. You both agreed on that, but…

You kind of drive yourself crazy trying to figure this out. He’s not vocal about his feelings and everything’s still new so you don’t like pressuring him. You also worry that if you push him too far he’ll just get tired of you and move on. It’s not fair to assume that of him, and you know everything would be better if you just talked to him. But you’re scared. You’re scared the conversation will take the wrong direction and everything will blow up in your face. 

Jean calls your name and your head shoots up to see both Ororo and Jean looking at you expectantly. You flush when you realize they must have been talking to you and you’d just completely zoned out thinking about Logan. 

“Huh?” You blurt out, cringing at how dumb you sound. 

Jean gives you a concerned look, “I can practically taste your anxiety.” The telepath frowns and offers you a comforting smile. “Don’t worry about it, I promise, Logan won’t mind at all.”

“You’re fine,” Ororo adds, because clearly the look on your face screams, I need constant validation. They’re not wrong, but still, you hate feeling like an exposed bundle of nerves. “Think of it as girl’s night, the boys just happen to be there.” 

You force a smile on your face and give your most enthusiastic nod. You change into the dress and finish up with your hair. You finally start chatting with them again, engaging so it might disguise just how nervous you feel. 

There’s this clenching feeling, traveling from your stomach up to your chest. It makes you sick, makes you hurt. And it’s not because you think Logan will be upset with you for crashing. He’d be relieved, if anything. There’s something else. Premonition isn’t one of your abilities, but you’re seriously starting to doubt that now. 

The bar is loud when you walk in. The soles of your shoes immediately start to stick to the floor and your nose screws up in disgust at the loud laughter coming from around the pool tables. You glance around, trying to see if you can spot Logan. 

You’d say you could spot him in any crowd. But has a propensity to hunker down and try to attract as little attention as possible so people don’t bother him. “There he is,” Jean taps your shoulders and points to the two men at the end of the bar. 

Like you’d thought, Logan is hunched over his whiskey, glowering down at the wood under him like it had insulted him. You almost want to laugh at the sight. Some of the earlier anxiety eases its grip on you and you feel your shoulders begin to untense. 

Before you can walk over Ororo grabs Jean’s wrist. “Gotta go to the bathroom,” she tugs Jean behind her. 

Jean looks over her shoulder at you and smiles encouragingly, “Go to them, we’ll catch up in a second.” You give her a tentative nod and slip through the crowd. There are more people here than you thought there would be. 

You’re happy not to spot any kids in the crowd. You’ve had a few too many nights out crashed by kids who thought they were good at sneaking out. 

It’s easy enough not to spot you or the other women in the crowd. Mutants have gotten good at blending in with the people around them. Makes it easier to get around. It’s probably why neither Logan nor Scott stop their conversation as you approach. “So,” Scott draws the word out, fingers tapping against the glass of his beer. 

“Don’t,” Logan warns. You want to laugh at his grumpy demeanor, but someone’s accidentally elbowed you and you find yourself stumbling a few steps back. It’s taking entirely too long to get to them, the bar isn’t even that big. There’s just that many people here. 

Scott ignores him and rolls his eyes. “Look, we’re stuck here for a while. Try and pull that stick out of your ass.”

“How about I put one in yours?” Logan’s claws come out slightly. But then they both share an odd look and Scott smirks. “Shut the fuck up,” Logan grouses, “not like that.”

“Right,” Scott huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He picks up his bottle and takes a long drink. You’ve nearly reached them now. You stop, though, when you hear Scott say your name. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. Eavesdropping now is just asking to get hurt. 

You drop back into the crowd, hoping the smells of others will stop Logan from discovering you lurking behind them both. Scott continues, “How’s that going?”

You crane your neck forward, trying to hear them better over the karaoke happening behind you. Someone is butchering Britney Spears but you couldn’t care less right now. Logan shouldn’t answer. Since when has he ever shared anything with Scott?

So, imagine your surprise when his answer isn’t immediately telling him to fuck off. “Eh,” he shrugs, downing the rest of his whiskey. Your face drops in irritation. Seriously, all this skulking around for an Eh? That’s bullshit. 

You keep yourself from stepping forward, forcing your feet still, and ignoring the little voice in the back of your head telling you this is a bad idea. You’ve committed this much, you’re seeing it through. Scott whistles lowly, “That bad, huh?” Oh, fuck off, Summers. 

Logan shakes his head and for a moment you have a brief feeling of hope lifting you up. “Nah, not bad. It’s just, I don’t know.” Logan sits up and signals the bartender for a refill. Your snooping senses go off and you briefly see Ororo and Jean exiting the bathroom. Desperate for something to keep them at bay, you flick your wrist. The man in front of them tips his drink down Jean’s shirt, slurring out apologies. Jean huffs and Ororo brings her back into the bathroom. 

Scott and Logan somehow missed the whole interaction and you promise yourself that you’ll pay for Jean’s dry cleaning. You’re definitely not going to. “Think she wants something I don’t,” Logan tells Scott, and your heart plummets to your feet. You can practically see it deflate, all the lovesickness draining out of it and onto the floor of this grimy bar. 

“Like, she just wants to fuck around?”

Logan shakes his head and downs another glass of whiskey. He’s just swallowing it down like it’s water. At a certain point, the bartender gets sick of it and just leaves him with the bottle. “No, she wants something real. Like a real relationship.” Scott’s brows furrow and Logan shrugs. “Not interested.” 

It’s the way he says it that really bothers you. There’s nothing wrong with wanting something different in a relationship. It happens all the time. But he says it so dismissively. He knows that you want something real with him, something secure and loving. He knows that, continues to fuck you and lead you on, and then speaks as though you’re an idiot for ever being interested in that. 

Hurt hasn’t set in yet. You’re staring wide-eyed, jaw agape with shock as you stare at Logan’s back. You’d thought a conversation needed to be had. But you didn’t think that he thought of you like this. You’d thought you meant something to him. 

Scott seems to share the sentiment, his lips tugged down into a frown. He leans against the bar, surveying Logan with a disbelieving look. “What?” Logan snaps.

Scott raises his hands in surrender, shaking his head and backing off. “Nothing, man, I just thought you two were serious about each other.” You miss whatever Logan says as an arm slings itself around your shoulder. 

“What’re you doing?” A husky, seductive voice whispers against the shell of your ear. You jump in shock, glaring at Ororo as she grins at you. She lets her arm slide off your shoulders and glances over at Jean. “I think she was spying.”

Jean nods, nudging you forward. “Definitely spying. Hear anything good?”

You fortify your mind against her probing fingers before she can find out. “Nope,” you blurt out. You hope the racing of your heart is dismissed by your constantly frazzled nature. You hope the look on your face is explained by your earlier boredom and anxiety. You pray that none of them notice the way you lean away from Logan when the men finally turn around and notice you all. 

Scott breathes out a dramatic sigh of relief and slumps onto Jean. “Thank god, I thought I was going to die trying to talk to this brick wall.” his eyes flick towards you in a blink-and-you-miss-it moment. There’s a brief pitying look before he grins. “Come to get your boyfriend?” There’s a heavy emphasis on the word that you never would have noticed had you not heard their conversations. 

It’s clearly a petty dig at Logan. And you would appreciate it if you didn’t feel the sudden urge to vomit up your dinner. “Thought you might need saving from Logan.” You tell him, a chuckle hiding the slight tremor in your voice. 

You’re not sure if he does, but you hope Logan notices how you avoided the word boyfriend. You hope that he hurts the same way you do. But you know, deep down, that he doesn’t care. He’s probably relieved that you didn’t use the title. 

Logan gets off his stool, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, and pulls you into a brief hug. His lips press against your temple before he dips down to whisper, “Thank you,” in your ear.

Asshole, he’s not allowed to smile at you the way he is. If you weren’t in such a crowded place and already overstimulated, you’d shove him away. If your friends weren’t watching you’d take his arm and slam it down onto the bar until you hear his fucking adamantium bones break. 

That might have been too far. Maybe you’re not that angry, but you’re hurt.

You place your hands against his chest, a thin smile on your lips while you hum a simple, “Mhm.” He doesn’t seem to notice the way you push away from him. It’s easily dismissed by you cheekily stealing his seat at the bar. 

He comes up behind you, hands bracketing you and keeping you stuck against the bar while you order your drink. One of his hands drifts down, laying against your thigh. You know this isn’t sexual, this is him comforting you. 

He shouldn’t know how horrible you feel in such busy places. He shouldn’t know that and know that his touch is grounding and then help you. Not if he doesn’t want something serious. If he didn’t want to be your boyfriend, didn’t want to be anything but a fuck, then why do this to you? Did he not think this was leading you on? Is this just him caring for you?

You’ll drown in a sea of unanswered questions before the night is over if you linger too long. You tip your head back, let your shot burn its way down your throat, and turn towards the others with a smile. You feel your worries fade and your focus loosen as you simply drift further into your mind. 

You must have disassociated or something. By the time you realize you’re no longer hearing bad karaoke and your elbows aren’t sticking to the bar, you’re already home. You stare in the mirror, hand pausing as you brush your teeth before you quickly finish. 

You didn’t drink much, you never do. It fucks with your abilities and causes migraines. You rinse your mouth out and glance into your bedroom. Logan groans and stretches. His back bows, muscles flexing and you rip your eyes away. You can’t let yourself be distracted by the chest you want to drape yourself across. 

You need to talk to him. It’s never been more clear. You wipe your mouth and toss the towel onto the rim of the sink. You take in a deep breath, trying to get rid of the nerves plaguing you. It’s never worked before, it’s not going to suddenly cure you now. 

You give up on the thought and instead, shove down the anxiety until you have enough confidence to speak. It takes a little while, Logan peaks an eye open, eyebrows quirked when he sees you just staring at him. “Something up, bub?” he flexes, on purpose, and you roll your eyes. You grab his shirt out of your hamper and toss it at him. 

“Put this on. Can’t think when you look like that.”

He chuckles, “That’s the point.” at your pointed glare his smile drops and he tugs the beater on. It barely does anything to deter you. If anything you’re having more trouble paying attention. Especially now that his full attention is on you. The humor is gone from the room, a thick tension replaces it. Logan seems to feel it, sitting up straighter and glaring at you like he’s trying to read your mind. “What’s wrong?” It’s a demand more than a question. 

It’s hard to look at him. But you refuse to let yourself cower now. You take in a fortifying breath and let your gaze bore into his. You put all the hurt and anger you feel into it, willing yourself to be firm. “We need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?” He’s brusque, but there’s a slight concern to his tone. 

There’s no point hiding this. And maybe you had misheard, maybe there was a conversation prefacing the one you’d heard. And you’ll talk it out and everything will be okay. “I heard you and Scott talking at the bar.”

The hope you had, as minimal as it was, is dashed at your feet. He sucks in a deep breath and the look on his face has you crestfallen. You can feel your chest cave in. You feel so stupid all of a sudden. Constantly following after him, even before you started dating him. Looking at him with stars in your eyes and latching onto his every move and word. 

You’d worshiped him, put him up on a pedestal he didn’t deserve. Superhuman or not, at the end of the day he was still a man. And they’ve done nothing but disappoint you. You suck your teeth, gaze dropping to your feet as you fight back the tears in your eyes. “Right,” you whisper, stepping back from him. 

“Look,” he starts. You force your eyes up and watch as he rubs uncomfortably at the back of his neck. He takes a step towards you and you shake your head, stepping away from him. His arms fall to his sides and he sighs. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“That’s it?” You demand, tone incredulous. You weren’t some great love or anything. But that’s seriously all he has to say.

He opens his mouth, eyes softening as he stares at you. Then he snaps it shut, something covers his face and his expression is borderline cruel as he sneers at you. “Not my fault you got in over your head, kid. Never said I wanted anything more with you.” He points at you, and you suddenly feel like a little girl getting scolded. You’ve never had a partner make you feel this small, especially not Logan. “You were just convenient.”

You rear back like he slapped you. You think it might have hurt less than that. To know you wasted so much time on such a fucking dick makes you want to throw up. Or scream, or cry. You can’t decide on one. But your powers can, the walls are shaking, knick-knacks falling off your shelves as energy pulses from you. 

You’ll face the hurt, the sadness, the horrible ache of rejection later. Right now, you need him out of your face before you bring the whole mansion crumbling down around you. “Out.” You grind the word out, turning away from him and clutching your hands to your chest. You take in quick, rapid breaths, trying to think of anything other than how horrible you feel. 

You haven’t lost control like this in a long time. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of being the reason you get put on probation again. He whispers your name, coming up behind you like he’s going to touch you. 

You want to lash out, want to hurt him like he’s hurt you. But you’ll only cause more damage than necessary. He’s not worth hurting the kids in the rooms around you. You shove past him, ignoring the way he shouts your name. 

You dart out into the hall, grateful there are so few people milling around. Nearly everyone’s asleep, just a few stragglers finishing up their homework for tomorrow. A few of them give you odd looks that turn concerned when they see Logan chasing after you. Your bones are practically vibrating by the time you make it outside. 

You rush towards the grove of trees at the back of the mansion. Your knees give out under you before you can make it very far. Energy pulses out of you in an explosive circle. You hear bark crack and turn into nothing but dust as the air around you trembles. 

It’s a relief, like going to the bathroom after holding it all day. You feel it drain away from you, a plug pulled out as the energy rushes from you. It slows after a minute, feeling more like a leak than a steady stream. 

Your hands shake by your sides as you lay trembling on the grass. Your eyelids flutter shut and you try and keep them open but it’s hard. All of your energy had been spent keeping yourself in check until you made it out of the mansion. 

“I’ve got you,” a voice mutters near your ear. Familiar strong arms dip under your knees, lifting you up and pulling you into a sturdy chest. You recognize the body, recognize the uncomfortable warmth coming from him. But your tongue won’t work and you're passing out before you can try and push him away. 

You’re in your own bed when you wake up again. You’re briefly comforted by the warm feeling of the sheets around you before you realize how cold the other side of the bed is. You’re so used to the feeling of someone being beside you that it’s jarring for no one to be there. You sit up, a spark of anxiety lighting up inside you before it’s being quelled by an outside force. 

“I think it’s best if we keep that under control.” You’re not surprised to hear Charles’s voice. You can’t be, not when he’s actively keeping you calm and placid. You lean back against your headboard. You tilt your head lazily, looking at him while he looks out the window. 

“That tree was a hundred years old.”

You wince, face screwing up when you remember the large oak tree you obliterated last night. “I can remake it,” you promise. 

“You could,” he corrects, “but whatever happened last night between you and Logan is causing your powers to be volatile.” He finally turns towards you, the motor of his wheelchair a dull buzz as he smiles at you. There’s no resentment in his gaze at least. You’d known he wouldn’t be mad at you. He was used to accidents like this. Had you hurt another person, however, this would be an entirely different conversation. 

There’s a dull ache in your chest at the mention of Logan, but it’s quickly covered by another wave of calm from Charles. He smiles and holds out two metal bracelets. They’re thick, something red inlaid into the black metal. They look like handcuffs more than anything. His lips quirk up at your thought and you frown. 

“That’s what they are, right? Cuffs.”

“You’re not a criminal,” he assuages, his tone gentle as you take them from him. There’s a small silver button inside that you click and the metal springs open. You place your left wrist inside and it snaps shut, it’s a snug fit. It won’t be moving around anytime soon. You put the right one on and feel Charles’ hold on your mind ease the second it's closed. Every horrible feeling from last night crashes down on you and you nearly choke on it. 

You wonder how Charles managed to keep you asleep for so long without the roof crumbling. He chuckles, the noise tired. “Jean helped me. It took a while for the cuffs to be ready.”

The way he says that causes alarms to go off in your head. “How long?” He takes in a sharp breath and shakes his head, attempting to dismiss the question. “Charles,” you snap, voice bordering on a shout. 

“Two days,” he says. You gasp and slump back against your sheets. He says your name but you get to your feet and pace. You don't know what to do with yourself. There’s energy buzzing under your skin, but the cuffs are keeping it at bay. It feels wrong like your pores are being clogged with acid. 

“Two days.” You look over at him, horror painting your face and you can see why he was so apprehensive to tell you. “It’s never been that bad before.”

“No,” he starts cautiously, “It hasn’t. Which makes me wonder, what transpired between you and Logan that destroyed my grandfather’s tree?” 

You cringe at the mention of the tree. He’s never going to let go of that. Even when you recreate it, he’s still going to hold it over your head. His teasing eases you out of the spiral you were heading down and you glance over at him. “You’ve been in my head for two days. I’m sure both you and Jean already know.”

He smacks his lips together and shrugs, clasping his hands in front of himself. “Simply seeing if you wanted to discuss it, my dear.”

You vehemently shake your head and sit back down on your bed. “No, I don’t want to talk about him. I don't want to see him.” Charles gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you and you hate it. You truly don’t want to see Logan again. Just thinking about him makes you want to explode. He was a pig and you regret ever wasting your time on him. 

There’s a shriveled part of your heart weeping somewhere, but you crush in your fist until it shuts the fuck up. “Right,” Charles nods. “I do believe it’s best for your recovery that we keep you two separated for a while.” He rolls past you and places a comforting hand on yours. “Rest, you’ll feel more like yourself soon.”

You nod and watch him leave. Exhaustion suddenly seems to drop its heavy weight on your shoulders. Two days being restrained by telepaths probably wasn’t very restful. You lay across your comforter, rolling over and hoping when you wake up your heart will be healed. 

Two weeks. Two pathetic, snot-filled, and disgusting weeks of sobbing over Logan. You felt like a sixteen-year-old again, crying over the boy that didn’t like you back. It was awful, especially knowing that the entirety of the mansion knew what was wrong with you. 

Your students would leave your class and you would lock your doors, hiding under your desk as you wept. Those with superhearing or telepathy would bake you cookies and leave gifts at your door. It was sweet, but honestly made you feel ten times worse. You felt like your sadness was a burden you were forcing everyone to carry. 

Your mother would be so disappointed in you. She’d always told you that you mourn a relationship half the amount of time you were in it. Of course, hers never lasted more than a few weeks. And she’d had more boyfriends than you could count on three hands. 

Besides, you were allowed to wallow for a while. This was someone you were starting to fall for. To be so blind going into and leaving the relationship was awful. Having the rug ripped out from under you had been cruel and needless. You’re resentful and grateful he’d been so horrifically honest with you. On one hand, if the relationship had just ended, you’d be pining after him. Wondering what you’d done to lose such an amazing guy. 

But being faced with the brutal truth, knowing he was a piece of shit, it makes you hate yourself. You should have seen it. Should have known that he didn’t want you like you wanted him. But there were never any signs. You’d run it through your head a million times. Every interaction you’ve ever had with him. None of it shows you where he’d been lying to you or using you. You can’t even trust yourself anymore. 

There’s a loud knock on your door and you sniffle, tossing another tissue in the trash as you go to answer it. “Hello?” You croak. You can barely see, eyes puffy and so swollen your vision is blurry. 

“Holy hell,” Ororo scoffs and shakes her head. She pushes into your room and slams the door shut before anyone can see how awful you look. To be fair, you keep yourself relatively put together during the day. But it’s after hours now, you’re allowed to be a mess. 

“You look like shit.” 

Neither of you are prepared as you begin to blubber. Your lips tremble and your voice shakes as you begin to sob. “I know,” you wail. “I hate it.” Ororo’s eyes widen in horror and she quickly pushes you into your desk chair, grabbing a box of tissues and shoving it in your hands. 

“I feel,” you stutter, having to take in a few shuddering breaths before you can get the words out. “He tore out my heart and ripped it up with his stupid fucking claws.”

“Okay, okay,” Ororo runs her hands over your arms, trying to soothe you. “I know, sh, it’s okay.” She groans, “Stop crying,” she pleads under her breath. 

“I’m trying!” You snap at her, running hands over your wet cheeks and trying to swallow down the rest of your tears. 

“Look,” she steps back and shakes her head. She glances down at you, disgust poorly hidden on her face. She’s really fucking bad at comforting someone. “This is awful, I can’t take it anymore. You two keep dancing around each other and you’re putting everyone on edge. You won’t stop crying and he keeps going off,” she holds her hands up and shakes her head. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

You frown, brows turning down in confusion. “What?” You didn’t think Logan would be mad. You pictured him skipping through a field of daisies, happy to finally be rid of you. It only made you hate yourself more that you were still crying over it all. 

“He’s kind of losing it,” she seems reluctant to relent the information. “Look,” she kneels in front of you and snatches the tissue box from your hand. She tosses it to the side and forces you to meet her eyes. “He’s in love with you. We all know it, Jean’s confirmed it. He loves you, he needs you, he’s just terrified to admit it. He’s afraid of what's going to happen if you two become real.”

Your eyes widen with the realization. She nods enthusiastically as you connect the pieces. You can’t deny what’s so plainly laid in front of you when she assures you that even Jean knows. Jean knowing means she just did a nosy dive into his head. 

You can picture what could happen. With rom-com levels of nauseating romance, you run to find him. You tell him you don’t care that he’s afraid. You don’t care he pushed you away and you do love him. He’s not going to lose you. Nothing can rip you apart. You ride off into the sunset on Scott’s bike blah blah blah. 

This isn’t a fucking romance. And you’re not going to cry over a man who's too much of a pussy to admit he has feelings. You like men who have emotional depth deeper than a teaspoon. “Are you fucking kidding me?"

Ororo’s face blanches and she slowly backs away from you as you stand. “No,” she answers slowly, like she’s not sure of herself now. 

“That’s what I’ve been crying over?” You feel upset for an entirely different reason. You never misread the signs. You never missed a hint that he didn’t feel what you did. He did! He was just happier letting you doubt yourself and the love you held for him than admitting he felt something. You tear off the depression hoodie you’ve been living in for the past two weeks. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

You don’t know where you’re going. Normally, you’d run into a forest to let out a blast of energy. It drained you enough that you wouldn’t have to feel anything. But with these cuffs on, you can’t do anything. 

You storm out of your room and stomp down the stairs, uncaring who you wake up. You’ve wasted so much time on Logan, you refuse to stay in your room and cry for another fucking night. 

“I want to see her,” Logan growls. He tries to move around Charles, but he stops him with his mind, holding him in place while Jean disappears inside your room. Logan watches her go and glares at her retreating back as the door closes behind her. 

It’s been a day already, you’ve never needed to be out for more than a few hours. He doesn’t want to think that there’s anything wrong with you, that he might have permanently broken something inside you. 

That talk at the bar with Scott had been stupid. He would have said anything to get him to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. He didn’t really mean what he said, he just wanted him to back off. And saying that your relationship wasn’t anything was quicker than pouring out every thought he’s had of you. 

It was easier lying than it was to admit just how much he wanted you. Just how far he would go for you. But then you’d overheard, and you brought it up. And there’d been faith on your face. Like even you couldn’t believe what he had said because you could see through the bullshit. 

But all Logan had seen was a way out. This was an opportunity to finally get out of the suffocating clutches of something he didn’t want to admit was love. He took the chance before he could think. It’s what he was used to. Taking the easy way out, especially when it came to shit like emotions. 

He hadn’t thought you were going to explode, though. Because that’s exactly what you’d done. By the time he’d caught up to you, you’d burned a crater into the ground and had destroyed Charles’ stupid fucking tree. 

Seeing you like that, laying there lifeless, it terrified him. He didn’t want to live in a world that you weren’t in. There was no fucking point. It was sobering, realizing that, and then realizing that he was the reason you were like that in the first place. 

He didn’t want to live without you and he certainly would never be able to come to terms with being the reason you were dead. But it didn’t matter, whatever realizations he was coming to. Charles and Jean were completely blocking him from your room. They weren’t even giving him a chance to look at you. And he was about five seconds away from ripping the old bastard’s head off and just barrelling inside. 

He didn’t care what they said, he needed to see that you were okay. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to see her for a very long time.”

“Stay out of my head,” Logan growls, glaring down at the man. “What are you talking about?” He presses, finally processing the rest of his sentence.

Charles sighs and rolls away from him. Logan glares at his back but ultimately follows. “You were the cause of this, yes?” Reluctantly, Logan nods, there’s no point in hiding it. He’s sure Charles already knows. “For her own safety, the two of you will need to remain separated.”

That had been it. There was no arguing about it. No fighting Charles. It was for your safety that he stayed away from you. No matter how much he wanted to explain himself, he wouldn’t risk another meltdown like that. 

You didn’t deserve to get hurt because of someone like him. He wouldn’t be able to stand hurting you again. 

But two weeks seemed like a lot. At a certain point, he’s sure you’re just avoiding him. He knows he can’t blame you. He’d been a fucking idiot. But that didn’t make him any happier. If anything, he was getting more and more pissed off every day. 

He had less patience for mistakes. Was lashing out at the kids more often and don’t even get started on the petty fucking fights he was picking with Scott. How long did you fucking need before you talked to him again?

He knows you’re upset, your crying keeps everyone up at night. Something he’s sure you’d be mortified to learn about. Why won’t you let him comfort you? Why do you have to be so petulant, running around the corner every time you see him? Pointedly ignoring him when you’re in the same room together. 

He could fix this, make this all better. But you’re just not letting him. He knows this is why he loves you. It’s why he was so drawn to you. You seem like a bundle of nerves, constantly flitting around and keeping yourself small. It had been off-putting at first. And then he’d seen you training with Scott, kicking his ass more like. A switch had been flicked in his head. 

He could finally see you for what you were. He finally realized that it was your abilities you were keeping small. You were a fucking spitfire and you didn’t hesitate to tell him off, he loved it. Loved arguing with you just so he could see you get all pissed off. 

But that stubborn attitude he loved was really biting him in the ass right now. 

There’s a knock on his bedroom door and he doesn’t even get to pretend it’s going to be you. He smells Jean’s perfume and rolls his eyes. He puffs on his cigar and contemplates ignoring her.

“Don’t be a jackass, open the damn door.” 

Fuckin’ telepaths. “What?” He snaps at her the second the door is open. Her face screws up when she smells the smoke from his cigar. He knows she wants to put it out, and can see it in the twitch of her fingers. He raises a brow, a silent challenge to try him. He’s itching for another fight and she can feel it. 

She lets out a sharp breath, choosing her battles wisely and backing off. He’s almost disappointed. “We need to talk. This whole thing between the two of you is ridiculous. You’re a mess, she’s a mess…”

Her voice trails off into nothing more than the annoying pitch of a fly. Logan can’t be bothered to listen to her scold him. He’s not a fucking kid, and maybe if you were acting like an adult, they wouldn’t be having this problem. 

A few doors down he can hear you shouting, then the door to your room slams open. He darts off his bed, opening his own door to see what you’re doing. He only sees the back of your head as you angrily stomp down the stairs. 

Enough is fucking enough, he was finishing this now. He was sick of your side of the bed being empty and the stupid fucking glare on your face every time you saw him. He doesn’t even bother saying anything to Jean as he leaves, just chases after you. 

Jean watches him go with a perturbed look. She steps out of the room and glances down the hall. Ororo steps out of your room and walks towards her. “Well?” Jean probes. 

Ororor shrugs, “She’s over it.” Jean smiles but it’s quickly wiped off her face by Ororo’s expression. “Not in the way we wanted.

Jean clenches her eyes shut and takes in a deep breath. She needs you two to figure your shit out or she’s never going to be able to get a good night’s sleep again.

You find yourself in the gym. It’s not your favorite place in the world, you don’t usually get to train with the others. You’re stuck with telepaths, mainly the ones who can shut your powers down if you get too out of control. That hasn’t been a problem since you got the cuffs, but you’ve been too sad to test them out. 

Now you find yourself obliterating a punching bag. You wrap the energy around your fists and let it protect the thin skin as you pummel into the bag. You don’t know what else to do. You can’t have energy meltdowns anymore. You have to try and funnel it all out physically, but it’s not working. Nothing is. 

“Imagining it’s me?” You pause midswing. You glance over to the door just in time to see Logan stalking towards you. He unzips his jacket slowly. So slowly it almost seems provocative. He tugs it off and tosses it onto a nearby bench. 

You scoff as you watch him. “Do you ever have a shirt on?”

He shrugs and moves towards the ring in the middle of the gym. His movements are lithe and fluid as he hops onto the ring, every bit a wild animal. You watch as the muscles in his torso ripple and force your eyes off of him. You try and focus your attention back on the bag, but all your earlier energy is gone. Your mind is completely wrapped around Logan. 

Which you’re sure is exactly what he wants, or he wouldn’t be staring at you so smugly as he leans against the ropes and waits for you to acknowledge him. You suck on your teeth, irritation blooming in sporadic bursts throughout your body that has you nearly shaking. Finally, you give in. 

He smirks the second your eyes meet, “I can take it, sweetheart. A lot better than that little toy of yours can.” He nods towards the punching bag but the insinuation isn’t lost on you. You and Logan had been very active in your relationship. You could barely go a day without tasting each other. 

You’ve been pent up since the breakup. You’d given in a few days ago, pulled out your old vibrator, and tried to bring even a semblance of joy back into your life. But nothing could compare to Logan. 

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he waits for you to react. He’s standing there, staring down at you with all the surety in the world that you’re going to fuck him. It makes you want to dig your nails in and rip him apart, bit by bit. 

You can already picture it in your mind, using your abilities to pick him apart until he’s nothing but molecules dispersed through the air. He’s lucky you have the cuffs on, without them you’re sure he’d already be dead. 

You smirk and move towards the edge of the ring, your voice drops as you purr up at him, “You wanna play, Logan?”

He grins and moves off the ropes, starting towards you as you make your way onto the ring. You’re slightly less graceful than he was, but you’re too focused on wiping the smug look off his face to pay attention. “Come on kid,” he taunts, voice as low as it usually is when he’s fucking into you. “Let’s see what you got.”

You’re not stupid enough to just outright swing at him. You feint to the right and bring your knee up into his ribs. He only needs one hand to wrap around your thigh and drag you forward. His other hand goes to your hip, tugging you closer until you’re practically grinding against each other. You grit your teeth and glare up at him. 

“Come on, sweetheart, that can’t be all you got for me.” Energy wraps around your head, blurring the air around you. You slam your temple against his, it provides enough of a distraction for you to yank your leg out of his grip. You throw your right fist into his ear, bouncing back with a grin as he shakes his head. 

He practically growls as he reorients himself. You shrug and smirk, “What, don’t tell me that’s all you got, wolvie.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that,” he grumbles. You open your mouth, prepared to taunt him again. But he’s lunging towards you and you just barely have enough time to dart out of his way. You know he’s going easy on you. He could have had you just then if he really wanted this. 

But he’s dragging this out. Forcing you to spend as much time with him as you can. It only pisses you off further. You plant your foot on his back and kick him forward. He barely even stumbles and it only further confirms your suspicions. “Stop fucking holding back,” you yell at him. 

He turns around slowly. You almost expect there to be a sneer on his face, something angry. Instead, he looks fucking thrilled, like this is all just foreplay for him. He laughs, so low you can barely hear it, and his chest flexes as his claws come out. 

“You sure?” It’s a taunt, a dare, he knows you aren’t going to take the bait. You’d be stupid to, you don’t heal like he does. Once those things get in you, you’re screwed. But right now, you’re too pissed off to try and care. 

You don’t say anything, you just duck under his fist as he swings at you. You know he made it easy for you, giving you an opening to fall into. He’s treating you like you’re something fragile. And maybe you are. One wrong move in this fight and you might not make it through the night. But anger is making you blind to logic. 

Him playing fair just makes you want to play dirty. You use the opening he gives you, letting energy form around your fist and pulling back just enough to slam into his ribs. He coughs, doubling over as you hear bones crack under your hit. He’ll heal in seconds, you can’t bring yourself to feel too bad for him. 

Maybe if he ever took you seriously you might not be such a bitch. But he didn’t think you were good enough to be honest with and he still was treating you like a plaything. In your opinion, he deserves whatever you give him and more. He doubles over and you swing your leg around, bringing it down across his face. 

You hear a crack as your socked foot connects with his face, something crunches underneath you. And when your sole hits the mat again you see the blood leaking from his nose. You almost apologize. Almost, then you see the look on his face. His pupils are swallowing the hazel of his eyes, lips parted as he pants through his teeth. He looks fucking animalistic. 

You have no warning as he pounces on you. His lips smother your own, moving over you with little to no grace. There’s nothing romantic or gentle about this. His fingers are digging so hard into your shirt, you’re sure you hear the seams rip. But you can’t bring yourself to care. 

One of your hands goes to his hair, tugging at the roots until he’s groaning into your mouth. You rake your nails up his back roughly. He cusses against your lips, hand traveling up to your chin so he can roughly jerk you back. 

He stares down at you, a silent question on his face. You’ve barely nodded before he’s descending upon you again. Lips and teeth clash borderline painfully as he lowers you onto the mat. You’re missing all the usual love and tenderness he treats you with, but you don’t care. 

You want to be rough. You want to hurt him like he hurt you, make him ache for you the way you do him. You wrap your legs around his, lifting your pelvis until you have enough leverage to flip him. Your thighs straddle his waist and you grind down against the prominent bulge in his sweatpants. 

He groans into your open mouth, large palms grabbing at your ass and spreading you so he can thrust between your clothed thighs. You can’t help but moan at the friction. It’s just enough to keep you on edge, he pulls back every time you think you might be close to something real building. 

You rip your mouth off his. He glares up at you as you grab his hair and yank his head back. You slam his head hard enough into the mat for it to echo through the room and he growls against your grip. You grin down at him as you slowly get off him. You make a show of stripping, enjoying the way his eyes track your movements. He looks like a dog, panting and waiting for his treat. 

You’re tempted to get yourself off, making him watch, and then leave him straining against his sweatpants. But you need this bad, need him to scratch the itch you can’t reach so you can finally get him out of your head. Neither of you are patient as he jerks his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to pop out. 

It’s already leaking from the tip like a faucet. You kneel, straddling his waist again. You don’t have to do much to slick him up. You pump him a few times before he’s gripping your wrist and jerking your hand away. “Get up here,” he commands, voice rough as he grips your hips. You don’t even get a chance to protest before he’s flipping you over. 

He grabs your thighs and wraps them around his waist. Your ass is off the ground, hovering above his lap as he lines up with your slit. You moan when the tip rubs against your clit. “Whose teasing now?” You grit out, glaring at him. 

His lips curl up, that insufferable smirk on his face before he slams into you. The attitude is practically fucked out of you as he starts pumping in and out. You groan, raking your hands down his chest. He fucking moans at the pain, blood blooming under your nails and immediately closing the further down you go. 

Neither of you are giving up this fight, you don’t want to lose, not even while you’re fucking. He pulls out of you and flips you over so fast you don’t even have time to whine. He’s back in you before you can blink, hips slapping into you in a way that you know is going to leave bruises tomorrow. You’re not going to be able to sit for a week and he knows it. His hands are groping at the skin of your ass, pulling you apart and watching the skin ripple as he fucks into you. 

You’re not going to last long. You’ve been too desperate, too pent up while you’ve been pissed off at him. He leans over you, draping himself across you lazily. You groan at the added weight, it only adds to the sensation, only makes you want him deeper inside you. “Thought you didn’t want me anymore, sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear and you flutter around him as his hand snakes around your waist, rubbing tight circles on your clit. 

You open your mouth but all that comes out is disjointed moans. You know there’s something sarcastic in there, and he must know too because he laughs at your pathetic mumbled sentence. “I don’t know,” he leans back and watches as he makes room for himself inside you. “Seem to need me real bad now.”

Your nails dig into the mat, energy leaking through your fingertips and warming up the canvas beneath you. You can feel it fluctuating, fighting against the cuffs the closer he brings you to the edge. “Fuck you,” the words escape you at a particularly deep thrust and you struggle to keep your eyes open. 

He pauses and you nearly cry at the loss of movement. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you. What’d you say? Stop?”

You glare over your shoulder at him  “Don’t you fucking dare, Logan.” You let your power push up against his back, forcing his hips to move again. He chuckles at the move, fingers creating figure eights on your nub. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he protests, voice innocent. “Ah, fuck,” his voice is nothing more than low grunts and groans in your ear the closer the both of you get to your release. You can’t speak anymore, can’t think. You can feel it cresting higher and higher inside you. 

Your abilities are rising with your release. They’re pushing against the cuffs, fighting desperately against the control the foreign metal has on your powers. You can feel it, heat building up under your skin, like a tingling on the tip of your tongue that you just can’t reach. It’s Logan’s release that finally tips you over the edge. 

The way his breath catches and his hips stutter in their perfect rhythm as warmth floods you from the inside out. You can feel it, him, dribbling down your thighs and staining the mat beneath you. It has you clenching around him, pushing your hips back weakly while you let the feeling overwhelm you. You nearly black out. Two weeks without him hadn’t felt long until you remembered what you were missing. 

You lose your sense of time, dropping to the mat like your bones have gone liquid, dripping out of you. You can feel Logan draped over you still, his weight a comforting blanket that nearly has you drifting to sleep. Naked, in the middle of the boxing ring. He pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss. 

He shushes you, rubbing a hand up your spine and pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your temple. He wraps his arms around you, laying down and pulling you back into his chest. It takes a few minutes of quiet cuddling for you to remember what exactly led you down to the gym in the first place. 

You feel disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. It’s clear what his plan had been. And you’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. You’d barely even fought against him. Of course, you could reason that you needed to get the tension out. This was the perfect way to funnel out your built-up energy. 

But you’re disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. You just disregarded dignity and self-respect for a chance to get him between your legs. You were such a fucking idiot. No wonder this is all he wanted you for. 

“Shit,” you mutter, trying to pull yourself out of his grip. Your eyes widen as his arms tighten around your waist. He tugs you back down until he’s got you in what essentially feels like a headlock. He could easily pass it off as spooning, but it feels a little more demanding than that. “Logan,” you warn, the silent peace of the moment officially shattered. 

“Don’t,” he gripes. You can fight against him for as long as you want, but you’ll only tire yourself out. His arms are literally metal bands around you. “Let me talk and then you can run off.” You huff and wait, but he never speaks. Finally, you look over your shoulder and glare at him. “Well?”

You roll your eyes, “Fuck’s sake,” you mutter. “Alright, speak.”

You can feel his grin against the back of your head. If he didn’t have you in such a tight grip, you’d elbow him in the gut just to be petty. “I made a mistake,” you scoff and he keeps going. Stopping you from interrupting him with something bitchy. “You weren’t just something convenient to me, sweetheart.” he pauses and chuckles, “You’re a huge fucking pain in my ass.”

“Is this your idea of an apology?” You snap, “Because this is pathetic.” 

He doesn’t say anything and you’re tempted to snark at him again. But then the world is flipped on its side as he jerks you around and forces you to face him. Your chests rub together, the sweaty skin sticking together and bordering on uncomfortable. “You ever shut up?” He asks, but there’s no heat to the words. If anything he looks fond of you, and it makes you shift around, trying not to look him in the eye. But there’s nowhere for you to hide, you’re both naked and bare before each other. 

You’re as physically vulnerable as he must feel emotionally. And as much as this is a horrible way to display how he’s feeling, you’re starting to understand him a little better. You know why this conversation is so hard for him, why he can’t accept that someone truly loves him and he loves her back. 

But that’s not going to get him out of it. He’s still yet to say the words. Maybe if he manned up and said something real you’d consider forgiving him. You give him an expectant look and he sighs, forehead pressed against yours as he slumps over you. You want to pretend you’re annoyed at the contact, but you’ve been craving it since you ran away two weeks ago.

You’ve been desperate for this warmth that only he can provide you. Without realizing it, you nuzzle further into his chest, hands drifting up to wrap around his bare waist. Logan feels the tightness in him ease slightly at the way you curl into him. He’s got a shot, even if you try and tell him he doesn’t.  

It’s silent for a while, while you linger in the emotions of what just happened and he tries to find the right words. He leans down, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and smiling against the shell of your ear. “I love you,” he whispers. 

You’d told yourself you’d only consider forgiving him if he said those words. But that’s only because you’d never thought he would actually say it. You didn’t think he was capable of admitting that to himself. It seems so out of character for him. But, maybe, you don’t know him as well as you thought you did. 

He pulls back, hand landing on your jaw and gently guiding your head out of his neck. He gives you an expectant look but you’re finding it hard to meet his eyes. You’ve been waiting for him to say that, but now it feels like you can’t. You’re still struggling to forgive him. He put you through so much unnecessary hurt just because he couldn’t face his own feelings. 

And now you’re struggling to do the same. “I want to say it back,” you tell him. “But how am I supposed to trust that the next time things get hard, you won’t lash out again?”

He frowns, an irritated huff of breath shooting out his nose. But you know it’s frustration towards himself. For letting you both get to this point because he couldn’t just say three words. “I’ll wait,” he promises. “For as long as it takes, I’ll wait.” 

You smile and nod, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his neck. You’re sure you’ll be saying it sooner rather than later. But what’s the harm in making him squirm a little? He deserves it. 

A/N: I don’t write smut, it’s literally in my rules. I think I stared at a gif of him for too long and some horny ass demon possessed me and made me write this. Forgive me, universe, I’m no better than a man.

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[reiding-writing]

What about a cold!reader where Spencer gets jealous this time?

Like they meet another police team and they also have a "Spencer" who's dorky and they don't really listen to his rambling so she's kind to him (in her own cold!reader way) Spencer is like "???? The fuck is this exactly?"

SILENT TREATMENT. /spencer reid/

spencer’s not sure if you made the right decision by choosing him. you know that you did.

s10!cold!reader 3.1k flangst series masterlist. main masterlist.

a/n | i fear i missed the ‘police team’ part of the first request and made spencer 2.0 a pathologist instead, oops-

The air in the precinct is heavy with stale coffee and tension. You stand at the whiteboard, arms crossed, eyes scanning the photographs pinned to it—victims, maps, timelines.

The others are seated around the table, all mid-discussion, but you’re quiet. Not checked out. Just… precise. Listening without indulging the noise.

You speak when necessary.

“Victim three deviates from the geographical pattern. If it was opportunistic, the UnSub’s comfort zone is widening. If it wasn’t—he’s accelerating.”

Rossi nods, pen tapping against the table. “Could be staging, too. Make it look random.”

“Could be.” You don’t elaborate. You don’t fill silences. You let them speak if they have something worth adding.

No one pushes for more. They know how you operate. They know you don’t soften things. Not for comfort, not for camaraderie. You’re professional, respected—and emotionally distant, even now, even years into working with them.

The only exception to that is sitting three feet away from you, pretending to read a file he’s already memorised twice.

Spencer is quiet. Quieter than usual. His gaze flicks to you every so often, like he’s trying to time something—his words, maybe. Your reactions. Your temperature. Whatever it is, he’s trying to gauge where you’re at without having to ask.

“Spencer,” you say without looking at him, “page twelve. The blood spatter analysis.”

He’s already on it, of course. He lifts his eyes quickly. “Right—uh, yeah. The cast-off patterns indicate repeated strikes from a blunt object, likely with some torque. There's arterial spray on the west wall, so the blow that killed her came from the left side.”

You give a small nod. “Thanks.”

That’s it. No warmth. No smile. But Spencer straightens a little like it meant something. Like he’s grateful for being asked.

Emily side-eyes the two of you, not subtle in the least. “Is it just me, or has Boy Wonder been extra clingy lately?”

Morgan grins over his coffee. “You noticed that too, huh? He’s been on her like a puppy. Following her around the crime scenes, sitting next to her at lunch, hanging on her every word…”

JJ chimes in, amused. “It’s kind of cute. He’s like one of those Victorian ghosts—you know, all sad eyes and emotional repression,”

“Hey,” Spencer protests, not quite looking at any of them. “I don’t—cling,”

You don’t react. You never do when they tease him. And Spencer doesn’t look to you for help either, but you can feel the tension in his shoulders beside you.

Still, they’re not wrong.

He’s been… off lately. Not in a way most people would notice, but you’re not most people. He’s always been close to you, but recently, he’s orbiting you in smaller, tighter circles. Sitting closer. Waiting longer when you speak, like he's hoping you'll say something more.

The team has picked up on it. Of course they have. But they don’t know. Not really. They just think he’s crushing harder than usual. No one suspects what’s actually going on—because you’ve made sure of that.

You and Spencer aren’t the kind of couple who touch hands under the table or exchange soft smiles across briefing rooms. You’re not a couple that does anything in front of people, really. You’re together, but that truth stays tucked away between you and him, guarded in the quiet moments that happen off the clock.

Moments no one else sees.

“You doing okay?” you ask him quietly as the others begin packing up for the next site visit.

Spencer looks startled. “Me?”

You don’t repeat yourself.

He nods, quickly. “Yeah. Just… yeah,”

You hold his gaze for a second longer than necessary. A flicker of something passes between you. Reassurance, maybe. Or a silent understanding.

Morgan watches the exchange from the other side of the room, eyebrows lifting. “Okay, seriously, what is that?”

You ignore him. You grab your coat.

Hotch glances at his watch, then at you. “You and Reid head to the ME’s office. JJ, Emily, and Morgan—head to the victim’s apartment.”

Spencer immediately moves to follow, a bit too fast, a bit too eager.

Emily catches your arm on the way out, voice low. “You’d tell me, right?”

You pause. “Tell you what?”

She gives you a long look. “Never mind,”

—

The mortuary is colder than usual, the sterile, humming kind of cold that seeps through your coat and settles deep in your bones. You don’t shiver. You just pull on a pair of latex gloves and nod at the technician who leads you and Spencer toward the back.

The morgue table is already prepped, and the body is covered with a clean white sheet. It’s clinical. Organised. Efficient.

Spencer walks beside you in silence, his hands folded in front of him, shoulders set in that way that means he’s wound a little too tight. You don’t ask why. You already know. He’s been tense since yesterday—since you listened to the young tech at the crime scene rattle off chemical compositions and possible causes of decomp with the kind of enthusiasm Spencer usually reserves for classical literature and obscure physics.

Now, you’re both here again, about to meet another new person excited to talk about death.

The doors swing open, and in walks a man who can’t be older than twenty-eight. Blonde hair slightly ruffled, round glasses sliding down his nose, blue gloves snapped on too tight. He’s grinning before he even says hello.

“You must be the agents! I’m Tyler, the newest forensic pathologist on-site.” He says it like he’s giving a TED Talk. “Technically I’m still finishing my fellowship, but I’ve done two post-grads already, and I’ve been shadowing Dr. Karlsen for the last three months—”

Behind him, a woman in her sixties, presumably Dr. Karlsen, sighs audibly. “Tyler,”

“Right, right,” Tyler says, waving her off. “Back on track. Let’s begin,”

He peels back the sheet with a reverent kind of gentleness, like he’s revealing a masterpiece, not a victim of a homicide. You don’t react, not outwardly. You observe the bruising around the throat, the defensive wounds along the forearms, the way one wrist seems just slightly dislocated from the rest of the body’s alignment.

Spencer shifts beside you, already piecing things together.

Tyler claps once, low but excited. “So, cause of death was asphyxiation due to manual strangulation, but what’s really interesting is the laryngeal cartilage—you see here?” He gestures with tweezers, careful not to touch. “This fracture on the right side of the thyroid cartilage? It’s called a hyoid crush. Super rare, but it suggests a significant amount of pressure, possibly done from behind. Also—if you look just under here��”

Spencer speaks up, voice dry. “That damage could also occur post-mortem if the body was handled roughly during movement. Depending on the timeline, it’s not definitive,”

Tyler blinks. “Yes—true! Great point. But in this case, time of death aligns pretty tightly with the estimated bruising pattern, which I can show you in just a moment. And did you know—” He turns toward you now, eyes bright behind his glasses. “—that the thyroid cartilage, especially in females, doesn’t always ossify the way it does in males? That’s why injuries here can be harder to spot unless you’re really looking,”

You nod once. “Interesting.”

He beams, clearly encouraged. “Oh! And even cooler—well, not for the victim, obviously—but cool from a physiological standpoint—is that the arterial pressure around the carotid sinus can trigger something called a vagal response. It can actually kill a person instantly. That’s why sometimes you see victims with minimal signs of struggle. Their heart just… stops,”

You don’t interrupt. You just let him go on, standing still, arms crossed loosely over your chest. Your face is unreadable, but you’re listening. Not because you’re overly impressed—his information is nothing Spencer couldn’t rattle off half-asleep—but because it’s rare to see someone talk about this stuff with that kind of earnest joy. It’s not affection, not interest. It’s more like watching a dog with a brand-new toy. Mildly amusing. Harmless.

Spencer doesn’t see it that way.

He’s standing rigid beside you now, arms crossed, jaw set tight. You can practically feel the radiating jealousy off him like static. Tyler’s voice is all you can hear in the room, but Spencer’s silence is louder.

Dr. Karlsen cuts in after a minute, clearing her throat.

“Tyler. You’re wandering,”

“Right, right, sorry,” he mutters sheepishly. “Okay. So, other injuries: mild contusions to the upper back, inconsistent with the ligature pattern on the neck—suggests those came before the primary attack. Or from an external for e,”

Spencer murmurs, almost too low to be heard, “Or the UnSub simply pressed her down with a knee to control movement,”

You glance at him. His eyes aren’t on you—they’re locked on the mortician, unblinking.

Tyler continues without noticing. “I’ll upload full reports to the BAU’s system. But if you’d like to stay, I’ve got the next autopsy scheduled in twenty minutes. It’s unrelated, but the skull fracture’s really unusual—he fell into an industrial lathe, if you can believe that—”

“Thank you,” you interrupt, voice calm. “But we’ve got another scene to process.”

Tyler deflates a little but still smiles. “Of course. Good luck with the case,”

Spencer doesn’t say goodbye.

—

Back at the precinct, the team regroups. Photos scatter across the table, evidence logs updated, and reports uploaded. It’s a flurry of movement, conversation, caffeine.

Spencer stays quiet.

Even when Garcia calls in with a list of potential suspect matches, even when JJ reads off new victimology data—he’s present, but distant. Contributing, but subdued.

The turning point comes when you’re scanning Tyler’s preliminary report again, eyes catching on something he’d mentioned in passing—about the bruising pattern not matching the ligature marks.

You frown. “This doesn’t make sense.”

Hotch looks up. “What is it?”

You pull a photo closer. “The bruising on the victim’s upper back was dismissed as unrelated, but if the UnSub had control of her neck from behind, these could be from bracing his knee. Except the angles are wrong, which means she was restrained by someone else beforehand. Or there were multiple offenders.”

A beat.

Morgan leans in. “Multiple Unsubs? Are you sure?”

Reid is already flipping through crime scene notes, pulling up maps, rearranging the timeline.

But you know the shift started with something Tyler said. A stray, almost off-hand detail—one Spencer had dismissed. And now, it’s cracked the case wide open.

You glance over at him again.

His expression is neutral, but you know him. Know the set of his jaw, the small twitch of his fingers against the folder, the way he suddenly won’t meet your eyes.

He’s not okay.

And the silence keeps going.

And going.

Spencer doesn’t sit next to you at the precinct. He doesn’t offer up extra information unless someone asks directly. He doesn’t bring you your usual coffee without saying anything, doesn’t lean over your shoulder to glance at your notes, doesn’t linger when you leave the room.

At first, you don’t even notice. Not really. You’re used to space. You need space. Silence doesn’t alarm you—it comforts you. If he wants room, you’ll give it. That’s part of being with someone, right? Letting them breathe.

But then it starts to feel like something else.

Something heavier.

His eyes avoid yours. His steps fall behind the team, not beside you. His voice, when he speaks, sounds smaller. Not quieter. Smaller.

And the team—well, they notice.

They notice fast.

“What do you think happened?” JJ whispers, leaning toward Morgan at the conference table.

Morgan lifts a brow. “Between Doctor Genius and Miss Ice Bath?”

JJ nods. “They haven’t said more than five words to each other in two days,”

“Maybe they had a fight,”

“About what? Reid would agree the sky was red if she suggested it,”

“Exactly,” Morgan mutters, “maybe that’s the problem,”

JJ laughs under her breath. “Or maybe Spence is just tired,”

Morgan chuckles. “Either way, something is weird,”

—

You keep your head down. You do your work. And when Spencer doesn't sit beside you, you let him be.

Because you figure if he needed you, he'd say something.

He doesn’t.

Not until four nights into the case, in a borrowed office space at the local PD. It's late. The rest of the team has gone back to the hotel to get some sleep, but you stayed behind to finish typing up victimology reports. Spencer stayed too—though he hasn’t said more than three words to you all day.

You assumed he was just buried in research.

He isn’t.

He’s pacing now, just behind you, his arms crossed tight like he’s trying to hold himself together.

You finally look up.

“What’s wrong with you?”

He stops pacing, stares at the wall for a moment, then turns to you, blurting out in a rush:

“Do you want to be with me, or would you rather be with someone else who’s… easier to deal with?”

You blink, slow. “Excuse me?”

He exhales, harsh and shaky. “I—I’ve just been thinking about it, okay? Since the morgue. Since that guy.”

You’re still. Watching him carefully.

He keeps going, words unraveling fast.

“He was like me. He talks like me. He got excited about the same things I do, and you—you listened to him. You didn’t tune him out, you didn’t tell him to focus, or cut him off, or roll your eyes. You actually looked like you didn’t mind. Like you liked hearing him talk.”

“Okay—”

“And that’s fine, that’s—I get it, he’s younger, he’s less complicated, and I’m not trying to make this into something dramatic, I just—” He cuts himself off, swallows. “You could have someone like him. Someone who doesn’t have… all of the— baggage, that I come with,”

He gestures at himself. Like he is the problem. Like all the things that make him him are some burden you’ve quietly been carrying.

You stare at him for a long moment.

Then you speak, slowly.

“I have no idea what you’re on about.”

Spencer looks confused. “What?”

“I’m going to assume you’re talking about the ME, and tell you that you’re being ridiculous,” You stand, stepping closer to him. “I was focused on the case. On the victim. Not on whether the guy liked explaining arteries.”

“But you let him—”

“Because I let you talk like that,” you say. “So why would I shut someone else down for doing the same?”

He doesn’t say anything.

Your voice softens a fraction—not warm, but honest. Quiet. Careful.

“You’re who I’m with.”

His brows draw together. “That’s it?”

You nod. “Yes.”

He’s still not sure how to process that. “But I’m—difficult.”

“I know.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

You sigh, stepping just close enough that your knees brush his. “Yes*.*”

You pause.

Then, carefully, you lift your hand and rest it on his knee. Not possessive. Not performative.

Just steady.

It’s one of the few times you initiate touch. He notices. His eyes flicker down, then back up again, and something in his posture shifts—like the weight on his shoulders finally loses a fraction of its heaviness.

He’s still spiralling a little, you can tell, but you add, gently, “You spiral. You overthink. You get jealous. You shut down.”

A pause.

“And I don’t care.”

His throat bobs.

You reach up, fingers brushing lightly against the edge of his hairline, tucking it back behind his ear. He leans into it instinctively, even though he’s still blinking like he can’t believe what just happened.

You look at him flatly.

“If I didn’t want to be with you,” you say. “then I wouldn’t be here,”

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a week.

Then, finally, he nods.

And for the first time in days, his fingers curl around yours.

—

The next morning, everything is back to normal.

Or, at least, it seems like it.

Spencer sits beside you again at the precinct. He hands you your coffee, shoulder brushing yours. He leans over your notepad to make a quiet joke about the new crime scene tech who mislabeled three evidence bags, and you give a low, dry chuckle that makes Morgan do a double-take.

Emily stares. JJ narrows her eyes.

Something’s changed.

But it’s subtle. Maddeningly subtle.

There’s no hand-holding. No long, longing stares. Just… a shift in air pressure.

“You feel that?” JJ murmurs to Morgan as you and Spencer walk out of the room together, shoulders aligned.

Morgan sips his coffee. “Pretty boy’s silent treatment didn’t last long,”

“No,” JJ says slowly, “apparently not,”

They both fall silent, watching you disappear down the hall with Spencer beside you.

“You think they’re—?” Morgan starts.

JJ shakes her head. “No idea.”

But they’ll keep guessing.

They always do.

And you?

You’ll keep things exactly the way you like them.

Quiet. Private.

Yours.

[bbyseok]

More teen satosugu x reader please!

thinking about clingy teen satosugu who only get even clingier when they suddenly get hit with a curse that turns them into… dogs?

a pair of wolves, to be exact. it’s so blatantly obvious on who’s who—there’s one wolf with fur as white as the first winter’s snow and uncanny blue eyes. the other is the color as dark as night with a pair of warm purple hues that strike into your soul.

they sit at yaga’s side like loyal lapdogs—only to perk up immediately to run and tackle you to the floor as soon as you set foot in the classroom.

“what the—?!” you splutter in surprise, unable to escape their wrath of licks descending upon your face as you look to yaga for help.

the teacher simply crosses his arms and shakes his head. “satoru and suguru got hit with a curse.” and that’s it to his entire explanation, as it’s very obvious what happened to them.

when you finally manage to shove their muzzles away from your face, you groan in disbelief. “how long are they going to be stuck like this?”

“no clue.”

so just like that, you’re suddenly a caretaker for two oversized puppies who can’t seem to leave you alone—because apparently they absolutely refuse to hang out with anyone else.

they follow you literally everywhere on campus like a pair of lost puppies— you find it funny and even almost endearing out of all things.

coincidentally, this is after the night you had discovered them sharing your bed after you returned early from a solo mission. they had merely scampered out of your room after that—leaving you unable to ask them why they were in your bed in the first place.

and you certainly can’t ask them now.

“i thought you started smoking again?”

shoko shakes her head at your question, the faintest of smirks ghosting over her lips. “i did. but i think this is a better way to spend my time.” and then she nods to the two wolves sitting in front of you both.

you’re out on one of the training fields with shoko and your classmates-turned-dogs to test their… abilities. they lack any cursed energy, so it’s safe to assume that they can’t use their techniques.

“bet if you threw a stick, they’d fetch it for you,” a rare snicker comes from shoko along with her suggestion.

to which you simply roll your eyes at, but you find yourself grabbing a lengthy stick anyways. you’re unaware of how satoru’s and suguru’s eyes follow the item in your hand like moths to a flame as you hand it to shoko.

your short-haired friend flings the stick, but the boys don’t even dare to flinch. it’s quiet, save for the occasional thumping of their tails on the floor.

“see?” you shoot shoko a pointed look. she merely shrugs. when you walk over to pick the stick back up, you throw your friend a question over your shoulder, “did you know satoru and suguru were sneaking in my room at night while i’ve been gone?”

it’s news to her, but she doesn’t appear to be surprised in the slightest. “nope. sounds like something they’d do though.”

you grab the stick off the grass, turning to look at her and your classmates-turned-dogs. your gaze lingers on the canines for a moment. they’re obviously smarter than normal dogs, but you’re not sure about the extent of how well they can understand you in these forms.

“well.. i think they were kinda cute actually,” you confess, dragging your gaze back to shoko with a laugh, “you should’ve seen them, being all cuddly.”

a grim line settles on shoko’s lips at the image. “pass.”

you laugh again before turning and throwing the stick as hard as you can across the field. you watch it land several feet away, and then—

gojo and geto race past you, nothing but blurs of fur as they race each other to reach the piece of wood you had tossed. it’s hard to see who gets there first, because they start wrestling for the damn thing.

shoko simply snorts. “told ya.”

later on, with nighttime making its approach, the boys follow you into your dorm, seemingly determined to still accompany you. you hadn’t been sure on what to feed them since dog food seemed rather crude, settling to share your dinner with them.

and here you are, slipping into bed. just the night before, you had seen them all cozy under your blanket. in all actuality, you wouldn’t have minded sharing the bed with them. (depsite how cramped it would’ve been.) it’s just that now… they’re wolves.

suguru is beside you, circling in place in an effort to get comfortable on the blanket, whilst satoru opts for plopping his fluffy self riiiiight on your stomach. you emit an ‘oof!’ at his ministrations, but the white canine merely fixes you with a puppy-dog stare and you don’t go to protest.

“comfy, you two?” you hum out an inquiry, to which they snuggle into you further.

geto tucks himself closely by your side, burying himself under your arm as his silky fur tickles your skin. and gojo wiggles his chin on your abdomen, sky blue eyes already starting to flutter sleepily.

when you doze off, you dream of wolves and sticks.

and when you wake, it’s not the morning light trickling into the space of your room that stirs you from your slumber. rather, it’s the sound of gentle breathing and— heavy weight atop you.

it’s satoru and suguru, still in their spots from when they had fallen asleep, except— they’re humans again.

gojo’s body is draped over yours, one of his lanky legs dangling off the small mattress hilariously, his head lying just below your chest with his arms laxly wrapped around your abdomen. and geto is hugging your side, the air of his steady breaths hot on the skin of your neck. his long hair is messy, brushing against the underside of your chin.

oh.

oh shit.

what the hell are you supposed to do now? you obviously can’t move, not with all three of your bodies so intimately entangled with each other. you decide to risk it, trying to calm your racing heart and gingerly attempting to sit up.

you’re halfway there, when geto suddenly grumbles and yanks you back down to the pillows again. “s’too early to move,” he says in a hazy mumble.

aaaaand there goes your heart again. before you can reply, you hear gojo groan sleepily, and he then manages to get out a groggy “good morning.”

“…good morning,” you follow up, now hyperaware of their touch, “i see that you’re not dogs anymore…”

satoru blinks owlishly, seeming to finally notice your… predicament. but he also seems more irked by where geto is, so crawls up to be on your other side, planting his face right into your neck too.

“a wonderful observation,” suguru murmurs in a small snicker.

it’s quiet for a few moments, and it’s obvious that they aren’t planning to move from their spots any time soon. (you think you can get used to it.)

you decide it’s the perfect time to ask: “care to tell me why you were in my bed the other night?”

gojo mumbles something, but you can see the tips of his ears flush a pretty pink. suguru is the one who speaks up again after a moment. “…we missed you.”

“..oh.” your face feels warm at the simple confession, and an airy laugh breezes out of you at how— adorable their reasoning is. “well.. i missed you guys too.”

satoru hums an acknowledgment at that. there’s silence again for a while, before he breaks it. “you think we’re cute?”

oh— so they were able to understand you as dogs. you groan, moving an arm to cover your eyes out of slight embarrassment. “shut up. you two were the ones who sneaking into my room.”

“that was suguru’s idea-”

“you snuck in on your own, satoru.”

“you used their shampoo!”

“you stole their shirts first!”

“i can still kick you off this bed.”

“i’d like to see you try.”

you groan once more—albeit a fond sound—still trapped between them, “i wish you two were dogs again.”

[soulwrencher]

i'm feeling dizzy and sick so domestic!vi anyone?

i just think vi would look really good in an apron. way too good. and she knows how to cook, she'd never let you touch the stove, she tries at least not to... and then one day, when you come home and she notices you're sick, vi is a hot mess. her baby is sick, this can't be! where does she even start? running you a hot bath, making you your favorite hot beverage, cooking you porridge even though you hate it? too. much. to. stress. about. so you watch her walk up and down the kitchen while you almost pass out on the couch from the headaches you're having, "i'm not dying, vi," you murmur, "just hand me my meds please?"

and suddenly vi has her act all together. did it take a hit to her ego? maybe. but were you escorted into a hot tub with just the right amount of foam? hell yeah. "just scream if you're done or dying," she yells from the kitchen. it felt nice, she poured eucalyptus oil into the bathtub, since when did you have this? about to nod off in the bathtub you hear a soft voice calling for your name.

"come on, doll. hold on tight, okay?" she whispers as she wraps your arms around her neck to pull you out of the tub. careful this, watch out that, you were barely listening as you use the last bit of strength in your body to get out of the tub. and then she dries you off, you felt like a lost, wet puppy. her eyes were on you though, the whole time, making sure you're not actually dying, because that's what her eyes were giving away. you have her undivided attention, you really do, because she almost burns the chicken for the soup she is going to make for you, which frankly, never happens. so 7:1 for you! well, for her. (the score in your head to keep track of all the times you burnt food, in hopes to beat her one day. maybe you should get sick more often?)

and then you're in bed, you barely remember her dressing you but you do remember vi tucking you in bed, placing a soft kiss onto your forehead. "just stay with me a little more," she whispers. she's hovering over your shuddering body, her eyes searching for yours. you can feel the worry seep off her face, so you nod before she rushes off into the kitchen once again.

"careful, hold it, wait—" vi props you up so you can eat the chicken soup she made for you. "you have to eat before you sleep, doll." you tried your best to eat some of it and vi was impressed by how much you actually got down before you handed the bowl back to her. you whisper a small 'thank you' after vi who left for the kitchen with the bowl in her hand. but she comes back, of course she does and lays down next to you. suddenly you feel much warmer, blankets don't compare to vi's warmth.

"can i?" she asks, and you nod, there's nothing you want more than vi cuddling you into sleep right now. so she does, strong arms around your body, her chest against your back, you feel her breath on your shoulder.

"i won't ever leave your side," vi whispers into your neck as she wraps her arms a little tighter around your body, she thinks you're asleep by now. you forgot how clingy she can get, but you loved it more than anything. so you smile to yourself before you doze off to the sound of vi's steady breath and to the warmth of her palms on your hips.

[bruisedboys]

love drunk — miguel o’hara x reader

summary — while miguel deals with a drunk and clingy you, you accidentally let it slip that you love him. requested here

grumpy x sunshine!! spidergirl!reader, no pronouns used but implied fem!reader, grumpy miguel, kind of ditzy reader, drunk reader, established relationship, first ‘I love you’ trope, miguel being lovesick, fluff. so much fluff

nav

implied fem!reader 1.3k words

Miguel thinks he should never let you drink again in your whole life.

“Y/N,” he says through gritted teeth, irritated now. Actually, he was irritated ten minutes ago but was doing a better job at hiding it. “Come on. Get off me.”

You’re dead weight in his lap. He wouldn’t mind, he likes when you sit on him like this, only you’re in the middle of the bar and there are at least five Peter’s looking his way and smirking, and he can see Hobie Brown laughing at him behind his hand across the room.

“Whyyyyy?” You drawl, your lips slow and your tongue slower. You paw at his chest and give him a glare that’s about as menacing as a puppy. “You’re so mean.”

Miguel sighs heavily. He picks up his hands where they’d been hovering at your sides, unsure whether he should touch you or not when you’re like this, and gets a good grip on your hips.

“C’mon, get up,” he says. He lifts you off his lap with ease, fingers curling around your hips, and deposits you in the booth seat next to him.

To Miguel’s surprise, you don’t flop into his side or try to climb back onto him like he thought you would. Where seconds ago you were like a rag doll, you sit rigid straight.

“What?” He asks you, genuinely confused.

“Sorry,” you say quietly, frowning to yourself. “I didn’t mean that. You’re not mean.”

Miguel blinks at you. “Oh. No, that’s not why I made you get off, sweetheart. I know you don’t actually think I’m mean.”

Slowly, you brighten up like a wind up toy, springing back to life in slow motion with a big smile painting itself across your mouth, all teeth. “Oh, okay. Can I get back on you now?”

Miguel actually laughs. He’s very tempted to say yes, you can sit in his lap as long as you like. He doesn’t, mostly because you’re very obviously past your limit and you need a bed and some water. Neither of which he can get you here.

“You’re funny, cariño,” he tells you, chucking you under the chin with his knuckles. You beam up at him, eyes squinting so much they’re half closed. He indulges himself in a squeezing of your cheek before breaking the news, “No, you can’t get back on me—“ Your face falls, “—But I can take you to bed?”

Your smile comes back so quick it’s alarming, and you nod vehemently. “Yeah, please.”

Miguel manages to get you out of the Spider-Bar (nicknamed by one of the Peter’s, he can’t remember which but Miguel refuses to call it that. It’s just a section off the second floor of Headquarters where Spider-people migrate to drink.) without you tripping over your own feet. He’s discovering you’re a very clumsy, clingy drunk. That, and you really can’t hold your liquor. He’s only had a little less than you and he feels completely fine. Other than the burning in his chest, though he’s pretty sure that has more to do with you and your presence than the alcohol.

He gets you into an elevator and holds you up when you slouch into his side. His arm around your hip and both of your hands clinging like vines to his free arm, tight enough to ache but he can’t bring himself to ask you to loosen your grip a little. He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy your apparent desperation to stick to him like glue.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. A gaggle of Spider-Women wait on the other side, Jess among them. The younger girls giggle amongst themselves when they see the predicament they’ve caught their haughty boss in.

“Hey, Miguel,” Jess drawls as she sidles past him, Miguel practically dragging you out of the elevator now and out of the way of the girls. “Hey, Y/N.” She grins at your inebriated state, then looks to Miguel, “Early night?”

It’s almost midnight. Miguel can’t tell if she’s teasing or not. She probably is. “Yeah.”

“Miguel’s taking me to bed,” you pipe up, a lustful tone to your sticky, slurry voice that Miguel winces at. He hadn’t meant it like that. Clearly, your drunk mind had taken it that way. He’ll be sure to set the record straight once you’re safe and alone in his room.

Jess laughs loud. “Right. Well, have fun with that.”

She’s still laughing as the elevator doors slide shut. Miguel sighs. He’s not gonna hear the end of that for at least a week. You tug on his arm and smile up at him sweetly, and he forgets all about it.

“What is it, cariño?” He hums.

“Can you carry me? My feet are sore.”

Miguel indulges you. Partly because you’d asked and he’s yet again been tasked with the challenge of saying no to you (which he fails at every time), and partly because you’re slowing him down and he really wants to get to his room before he meets anyone else. He scoops you up easily, one arm hooked beneath your thighs and the other under your back. You giggle dazedly and hook your arms around his neck tight enough that it’d hurt anyone but Miguel, burying your face in his neck, your flyaway hair tickling his skin.

By the time he gets you to his room you’re half asleep in his arms. He’d let you sleep but your suit is constricting. He deposits you on the bed in the dark and switches on the lamp. He only manages to turn on his heels before you’re grabbing his arm, warm hand wrapping around his wrist with a clumsy desperation.

“Don’t go,” you murmur, eyes half closed.

Miguel pries your hand away gently. “I’m not going anywhere. Just getting your pyjamas.”

You allow it but you make a grab for him as soon as he’s back, hands warm at his waist. He stands in front of you and undresses you out of your spidersuit, then redresses you into the pyjamas you keep in his room. You keep quiet other than the occasional hiccup and despite your amorous comment earlier you don’t try anything, even when you’re completely bare-chested and Miguel is standing over you. While he pulls your shirt over you head, your hands find his hips and grip them like somebody’s trying to take him away from you.

He gives you a glass of water which you skull back like you’re about to die of thirst. He refills the glass and when he comes back you’ve turned the light off and buried yourself under the covers. He thinks you’re asleep until he goes to put the glass on the bedside table and your hand sneaks out of the sheets, reaching for him.

“Miguel…” you murmur, fingers brushing his abdomen. You tilt your head up towards him, searching for him in the dark.

“You okay?” He asks, concerned you’re not feeling well. He hopes you’re not the kind of drunk who throws up everything they drank. Though he can’t say he’d mind looking after you even if you were.

“I’m fine,” you say softly. It’s dark and he can barely see your face but he hears your next words just fine. “Thank you for looking after me … I love you.”

Miguel is so shocked he almost drops the glass of water he’s holding. Sure, he knew you had feelings for him. He knew you care for him about as much as he does for you, which is an inordinate amount. To hear you say it is different. His fondness for you multiplies by about a million and the chasm in his chest feels, not for the first time since he met you, a little bit smaller.

He knows you probably won’t remember it in the morning, but it’s been said and his chest is aflame. He sets the cup down and then crouches next to your lovely, tired face, and cups your cheek. He presses a soft kiss to your temple, and then your lips. Your eyelashes flutter as your eyes fall shut and you smile.

Miguel waits til he’s sure you’re asleep to say it back — vulnerability’s never really been his strong suit. He tucks hair away from your face, feeling a bit drunk himself. Just not from anything he drank. “I love you too, mi amor.”

[rafes-slut]

Rafe Cameron masterlist

Started: 02/20/25

Finished: 02/23/25

Rafe Cameron

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

ONE SHOTS

Jealousy Burns- you want to make rafe jealous at a party More Than Best Friends -rafe helps his sexually frustrated best friend out.

Friends with benefits- when you tell him you love him mid sex he cant believe that its true and gets rough with it

On his knees- to show you how sorry he is he gets down on his knees

Tides of affection- you are comforting rafe

Promise- rafe is promising you to stop the time because he loves you

Bangs- you are obsessed with his bangs

Youre not going anywhere- you want to leave after argument and rafe stops you by tying you to bed

Run- rafe is psyco ex-boyfriend that chases you through the woods

Big boy- you been drooling over how good his biceps look

Joint- sharing joint with rafe as an aftercare

Planned catch- you been eying rafe for some time but not doing anything because f his girlfriend till tonight

Learn how to knock- rafe walks in on his roomate that he hates while she is touching herself

Nowhere but here- he had been ignoring for until he shows up at your house bloody and injured

Burning in your orbit- you cant help yourself but to run back to rafe no matter what

Fools gold- gold chain beneath your shirt, the shirt that you let me wear home

Cant help himself- rafe is obssesed with kissing you no matter where are you

Where were you?- after not telling rafe you are going out he suprises you at your home waiting

Cuddly Rafe- one way of him love and care for you is cuddlying as aftercare

Working from home- you are whiny and needy while rafe is trying to work

Crawling back to you -crawling back to your ex-boyfriend rafe cameron

Dockside heat -you are working for ward and while working you are getting more then distracted by rafe

Thighs obsession -rafe is more then obsessed with his girls thighs

Just for tonight- rafe buys you dress just so he can rip it off of you later

No way out- someone had been ghost face in your town only to find out it was rafe all along Pretty boy- calling rafe cameron pretty boy just to piss him off because you know he doesent like you Sharp edges- rafe puls out a knife at you in the heat of the argument Stay the night- you and rafe are friends with benefits and strictly going by the rules until one night he asks you to stay Midnight confession- you and rafe had broken up and both moved on but what when one night you just miss him to much and have to call him just to hear his voice

Playboy bunny- wesring playboy bunny costume freezing on way home and rafe offers a ride

Marked by you- rafe wants everyone to know you are his so he marks you with necklace of his name

In your arms- rain storm catches you and you shelter with rafe rhinking it all just summer fling but he opens up to you

Falling back- one call feom rafe its all it takes to go back to him

Clingy and cant let go- rafe has work to do but you are to needy to let go off him cuddling in him and given chance

Makeout- after being apart from him once seeing him you make it up with makeout

The first impression- meeting his parents for first time and to calm down your nerves you play with his ring

Are you okay?- you realize rafe always checks on you asking if you are okay because no one ever did so with him First hickey- rafe gives you your first hickey Spot me baby- rafe takes you to gym and you have no clue about anything so he helps you out Period cramps- you been struggling with cramps whole week and rafe helps you with it, comforing you in any way Drunk call- rafe is having boys night with barry but he misses you too much Framed in the chaos- you managed to make rafe go to party held by pouges, to capture the miricle sarah takes photo. Puppy love- you knew rafe always wanted to own a dog so you suprise him with one Beneath the surface- you and rafe are childhood friends First drive- rafe is showing you how to drive car for the first time Date night on a yacht- rafe takes you on a date on yacht, but after ushing your buttons for whole day you push him off the yacht Backwards hat obsession- you are just obsessed with how rafe looks in backwards hat

Nothing personal- when ruthie asks if you two are togheter rafe gets dirty about you

Dealer- rafe is your dealer and how will you pay when you dont have a cash to for the drugs

Walk him like a dog- you are rafes girlfriend and you are walking him like a dog Wrong place wrong time- you cheated on your boyfriend with rafe and he finds you and him togheter Backseat heat- frat boy rafe smut Punishment- you pushed his buttons and acted like brat so he puts you back in your place

[urno1luv]

can you pleaseeeesewbdbsb write sub pathetic winter (WOCK) like cums in her pants from dry humping type pathetic, just a needy inexperienced puppy😓

HELL YEAH!!!

cw: sub winter, overstimulation, added some thoughts of how your relationship would be like before the freakiness😈

— needy, puppy-like winter who just has to be touching you at all times🙂‍↕️

she follows you everywhere. literally. you get up to grab something from the kitchen? winter’s right behind you, pressing herself against your back, arms looping around your waist like it’s second nature. "why’d you leave me?" she mumbles, as if you didn’t just move two feet away. if you tease her for being clingy, she only nuzzles into your shoulder, completely unbothered.

her hands never stay still when she’s around you. if she’s not lacing your fingers together, she’s toying with the hem of your shirt, tracing absent-minded patterns on your thigh, fidgeting just so you remember she’s there. and if she’s feeling especially needy? she just rests her hand way too high on your leg and gives you that look—innocent, but not really.

she has no concept of personal space. if you’re sitting down, she’s immediately climbing into your lap, draping herself over you like a weighted blanket. “this is my spot,” she murmurs against your neck, fingers clutching at your shirt like she’s staking her claim.

"you love me, right?"

"of course?" (her third time asking you that in an hour)

"then prove it." she tilts her head up, lips parted, eyes expectant

so jealous, but in a way that makes you laugh. the second someone even tries to flirt with you, she’s pressing herself against your side, clinging, making it painfully obvious that you’re hers. if you so much as glance at someone for too long, she tugs at your sleeve, pouting up at you. "but i’m your favorite, right?" and when you tell her yes? she just smirks.

tries to guilt-trip you for leaving her alone for even a second. “you were gone for so long…” (you went to the bathroom). “i thought you forgot about me…” (she saw you five minutes ago). it’s ridiculous, but then she looks at you with those wide, pleading eyes, and suddenly you feel bad.

she lives for your praise. the soft "good girl" that slips from your lips when she listens? yeah, that ruins her. she preens under your touch, cheeks dusted pink, looking up at you with the kind of innocent gaze that doesn’t match the way she’s pressing herself against you, the way she shivers when your fingers brush against her skin.

if you sit on her lap, grinding just right on the tent forming under you to tease her, she whimpers; tiny, breathy, embarrassed but completely unwilling to move away. and when you run your fingers through her hair, tugging just slightly? she melts. utterly pliant, sinking into you, lips parting as a soft noise escapes her throat.

and when you decide to push her just a little further, whisper something low and teasing in her ear, she stiffens letting out the smallest, most desperate sound before burying her face in your neck, gripping onto you like she’ll fall apart otherwise😩

and of course you would continue teasing her until she flips you over, so she can hump your ass, whining in your ear about how annoying you are and how she needs you so desperately, but clearly you "don't love her enough🥺"

and you know what, you decide to just let her because you were teasing her so it's kinda fair. after a few minutes of some sloppy thrusts, minjeong shudders, and you're like... already? omg your girlfriend is such a loser🥹

minjeong hurriedly apologises, her head bowed to avoid your giggling at the sticky mess on her boxers till you realise there's the same mess on your true religion jeans.. hah. not so funny anymore is it.

so now you're annoyed at winter..and you know just the solution!

you had her take her pants off so you could jerk her off, the head of her cock matching the blush on her face, the engorged tip begging for your attention, but you don't give it yet🙂‍↔️copious amounts of precum leaking and staining your hand which is wrapped around her base.

"please please please touch me, please y/n," winter would gasp, but no, not yet. you give her cock some long licks on the side, tracing a throbbing vein before deep throating it, your gf throws her head back, moans reaching a higher pitch.

winter's hands would reach up to bob your head up and down but yiu don't allow her to touch you, which frustrates her further, her mewls sounding pathetic as fuck to you ¡-¡

and this is how you would spend the next 20 minutes, sucking on her dick like a lollipop, her previous orgasms warm in your belly, and minjeong's body shaking like a leaf in a storm🚬

[muqingslover]

Your latest fic destroyed me (in the best possible way, im weak to angst) and I've been binge reading the other stuff you have here in order to console myself lol (love it all btw!!)

What I wanted to ask is, what features do you think lads' kids would inherit from them? In the case of the guys that want kids ofc. I have this hc that Caleb's genes are stubborn af, and all his kids have his eye colour copy paste. (If you're open to requests, that is!!)

[ Thank you for your kind words anon! 💕💕 I'm always happy to hear that you guys enjoy my work! For those who are curious, this is the fic anon is referring to!

Your request ended being quite short though bc there really wasn't much for me to elaborate (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ I've mentioned before I don't see some of the boys with children, but I did them anyway for you to make up for the length! ]

⊹ His physical traits gene is like a Russian roulette, but his personality genes are unbeatable.

⊹ If Xavier was to have children they'd be as sleepy and clingy as their father.

⊹ They miiiight get his hair color, but the rest? A carbon copy of you.

⊹ I also feel like his children would be really whiny in a super cute, not annoying-toddler way.

⊹ The most adorable puppy eyes and pouty face. It feels impossible to say no to them.

⊹ The strongest genes known to man.

⊹ His children are literal copy-paste of himself. White hair, red eyes, dragon traits, ECT.

⊹ They however have your personality plus are also very, very high energy.

⊹ He absolutely adores them of course, but Sylus would ask to keep trying until he gets a mini version of yourself. What can he say, he loves you.

⊹ Oh and they're super high maintenance, much more than most kids. The twins do very little to actually help and just add to the chaos for most part.

⊹ The perfect balance of the two of you.

⊹ The little girl would have his green eyes with your hair and is just gorgeous.

⊹ The personality is a mix of both, except she is as smart as her father.

⊹ If you're an extroverted then she might be more outgoing compared to Zayne, though still enjoys sitting and playing by herself.

⊹ Annoying father = Annoying children.

⊹ Okay okay I'm joking! Kind of. The children all get his purple hair and dramatic flair.

⊹ And that my friends results in the little ones and their dad to butt heads all the damn time.

⊹ The only person they listen to is mommy, including Rafayel.

⊹ The mermaid lineage is also very strong so invest in a much bigger bathtub and prepare your heart for the water bill.

⊹ I totally agree with you that this man's genes are very stubborn.

⊹ You get a literal duplicate of him when that sweet little boy is born, personality and all.

⊹ This extends to his obsession with his mama and their silly banter over who gets to cuddle you to sleep. (He lets the little one wins because his heart is weak)

⊹ Personally though? Caleb wants a perfect mix of the two of you if you're willing to keep trying.

[astars-things]

Puppy surprise

Summary- you surprise Lando with a puppy

(This was meant to be a short blurb but turned into 1.5k words)

When your whole TikTok and Instagram page was full of just puppies and dogs, you knew it was a sign. You had been in contact with a golden retriever dog breeder for a while now, and when she messaged you saying that there was a puppy available, you knew you couldn't pass up the opportunity. 

So while Max and Lando were streaming together, you and Pietra went on a 'girls day', but really you two were picking up a puppy and supplies.  Lando had no idea what was coming. You walked into his streaming room just as the boys were loading into their game. Max spotted you first and grinned through the webcam. "Oi oi, look who it is!"

"Hey babe, I'm heading out", you said, standing by the door of his gaming room "Okay, love, have fun, be safe. I love you," Lando cooed, taking off his headset and standing up to give you a kiss "I love you too," you murmured into his lips. You grabbed your phone and wallet, and grabbed your set of keys before making your way down to the parking garage

You were nervous about Landos' reaction, but you both have been talking about getting a fur baby for a while now, but it was never the right time until now. It was a two-hour drive to the lady's house, and you and Pietra did a car karaoke session, which helped calm your nerves. You made sure to get cash out before arriving.  

When you finally arrive, the breeder leads you into a sunlit backyard where a few playful golden retriever puppies tumble around. "Ready to become a dog mom?" Pietra beams. "As I’ll ever be." You whispered back But the moment your eyes land on him, you know. He’s clumsy, soft, and the tiniest bit fluffier than the rest, stumbling over his own paws and flopping into a pile of grass like it’s a mattress. 

You kneel down, and he immediately waddles over and begins chewing on your shoelaces. "This is the one,"  you whisper to Pietra, and she just smiles knowingly. You had already withdrawn the cash, so within ten minutes, the paperwork’s done, the leash is clipped on, and your heart is pounding with joy and nerves all over again. You wanted Landos' input on his name, so for right now, you and Pietra just went with 'bubs' 

You handed Pietra your car keys, you sat in the passenger seat with bubs in your lap on top of a puppy pee pad just incase he had any accidents, Pietra sat in the drivers seat, eyes on the road but at every stop light she would quickly glance down at the puppy you were holding. You made a quick stop on the way home to pick up food, toys and everything you need for a puppy, you made sure to use your card so Lando doesn't get suspicious as to why his card was used at a pet shop. 

As you were about 20 minutes away from the apartment, Lando started calling you, because your phone was connected to the car, so his contact name came up on the screen. You and Pietra immediately turned to each other, eyes wide like two teenagers caught sneaking out past curfew. "Oh no," she whispered. "Abort mission?"

"Nope, too late," you muttered, reaching over and tapping the answer button on the steering wheel. If you ignored the call, he’d definitely get suspicious, and probably call again, or worse, track you down on Find My iPhone.

"Hey Love" Lando said his voice now filling the car smooth and casual, but you could hear the faint clatter of buttons in the background, he was still streaming. "You good? You’ve been gone for a while. Thought spa days were supposed to be relaxing, not five hours long." You glanced down at your little fur baby in your lap who was now chewing on the sleeve of your hoodie 

"Hey, babe," you replied, trying to sound as calm as possible. "Yeah, it’s been a long day. We, uh, got a little sidetracked. You know, typical girls’ day." Pietra bit her lip to keep from laughing. There was a pause. You could hear Max in the background saying something about "Lando’s in his clingy boyfriend era," followed by the sound of Lando swatting him or chucking something in retaliation.

"Just checking," Lando said eventually, and you could tell he was trying not to sound too clingy. "I miss you." Your heart softened. God, you hoped he was ready for this. "I miss you too," you said, scratching behind Bubs ears as he settled against your chest. "We’ll be home soon, okay?" "Okay. I’ll probably still be on stream when you get back," Lando said. "So just come say hi when you’re in." You smiled. "Will do. Love you."

"Love you more." You ended the call and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Pietra immediately turned to you, eyes wide. "Okay, that was close," she said. You laughed and nodded your head, once you got the street of the apartment you quickly swapped spots with Pietra as she didn't trust herself parking your car next to Landos very expensive car collection 

"You giving anutie kisses baby" you cooed grinning as his tiny tail wagged so hard it looked like it might fall off. Pietra giggled, tilting her head so he could get her jawline too. "I can’t believe how obsessed I already am with him. We’re gonna need a group custody agreement." You gently pulled the car into the garage, carefully navigating around Lando’s prized lineup of vehicles, holding your breath until you were safely parked in your usual spot. 

The second the engine turned off, Bub let out a soft yap, as if even he knew something big was about to happen. "Alright, little man," you whispered, scooping him up into your arms and placing a gentle kiss to the top of his fluffy head. "Time to meet your dad."

Pietra grabbed the bags from the backseat, whispering, "God, I feel like I’m in a heist movie." You glanced at her over your shoulder. "Yeah, and the priceless treasure is a six-pound ball of fluff." 

You made your way up to Landos apartment, your nervs growing more and more with ever step you took, you opened the door and heard yelling from the hallway which meant they were still on stream, you held your baby closed to your chest as you made your way to the streaming room 

"Alright bub lets go meet your dad and your crazy uncle" You whispered before giving him a kiss, Pietra was following behind you with you phone opened so that you could record the moment, "Hey" You said poking your head in the doorway making sure only your head was seen, Lando turned his chair towards you and gave you a small wave "Don’t be mad, but I need both of you to close your eyes." You let out, hoping not to sound suspicious 

Both of them blinked in confusion. Max raised an eyebrow while Lando sat up a little straighter, narrowing his eyes like he could sniff out trouble. "What did you do?" he asked suspiciously, one hand still on the keyboard  "Nothing bad," you replied with a tight smile. "Just please. Trust me." Lando glanced at Max, who just shrugged. "Might as well," Max muttered. "It’s always something with you two."

Reluctantly, both of them closed their eyes. You walked in the room now visible to the stream, you lifted one of bubs paws moving it up and down slightly to give chat a wave, you stepped closer to Lando gently placing the small bundle of fluff in his hands "You didn’t" Lando whispered, voice suddenly raw, His eyes snapped opened, He stared down at the golden retriever puppy in his hands, completely still except for the tiny tail wagging against his arm.

"Oh my god" Lando let out in pure shock, Max got the memo that he could open his eyes, and when he did his eyes fell onto the puppy that was now in Landos hold "OH MY GOD NO WAY" Max yelled in shock, Lando looked up at you, his eyes glassy, mouth hanging open. Lando was speechless, he looked down at the puppy, then at you and then back to the puppy 

"He doesn't have a name yet, I thought you would like to have the honor of naming our son" You beemed, you and Lando both fell into your own little bubble of different names and Lando telling you how much he loves you, while Max was incharge of reading out the chat which mainly consisted of "Omgs" "Lando looks like hes gonna cry" and "congratulations"  

"Welcome home, little man." Lando whispered 

Liked by @.georgerussell63 @.oscarpiastri and others

@.Y/n & @.Landonorris Welcome home, little man 🤍🐶

Tagged @.(you decide his name)

view comments

@.mclaren We’re proud to welcome our newest (and cutest) team member 🧡🐾

@.User I WAS WATCHING LIVE WHEN IT HAPPENED AND I SOBBED REAL TEARS

@.lewishamilton Welcome to the dog dad club, bro 🐶🤍

@.oscarpiastri so when are you bring him to the paddock?

→ @.Y/n soon don't you worry osc

@.maxfewtrell i am still recovering emotionally. Look at that dog. LOOK AT HIM.

@.F1 If he accidentally goes missing it wasn't us 🫣

→@.User admin is just saying what we are all thinking

please reblog and like 🫶

*I do not own these photos they were found on pinterest

[moonlightwritingf1]

Between Goodbyes and Forevers | LN4

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ summary ━━━━━━━ Lando has to leave to prepare for the new season, and Y/N is super sad and clingy. He comforts her, and they have emotional goodbye sex.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ word count ━━━━━━━ 2.6k

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex,

Based on this request.

Y/N’s apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside her floor-to-ceiling windows. The evening was winding down, but her mind was anything but calm. Lando lounged on her sofa, one arm draped casually over the back, his signature smirk playing on his lips. He’d been teasing her all night, his words light and playful, but there was an intensity in his eyes that made her heart race.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he remarked, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the silence. His gaze lingered on her, and she felt her cheeks warm under his scrutiny.

“Just tired,” Y/N lied, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Tired didn’t even begin to cover it. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Lando was leaving tomorrow, heading back to Monaco to prepare for the new Formula One season. She’d known this was coming, but now that the moment was here, it felt like a weight pressing down on her chest.

“Bullshit,” Lando said with a chuckle, leaning forward slightly. His eyes narrowed, and that smirk turned into a knowing grin. “You’ve been clingy all evening. Not that I’m complaining,” he added, his tone softening.

“I haven’t been clingy,” Y/N retorted, though her voice lacked conviction. She hated how easily he saw through her.

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve been glued to my side all night. Even when I went to grab a drink, you followed me like a lost puppy.”

She opened her mouth to argue but quickly shut it. He wasn’t wrong. She had been clingy, and she hated herself for it. She didn’t want to seem desperate or needy, but the thought of him leaving made her stomach churn.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, looking down at her hands. “I just… I’m really going to miss you.”

Lando’s expression softened, and he moved closer to her on the sofa. His hand found hers, intertwining their fingers. “I’m going to miss you too, you know. More than I can say.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. There was a sincerity in his gaze that made her breath catch. For someone who was always so carefree and teasing, Lando had a way of making her feel like she was the most important person in the world.

“You’ll call me, right?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Every day,” he promised, his thumb gently brushing over the back of her hand. “And I’ll FaceTime you after every race. You’ll be sick of me by the end of the season.”

Y/N managed a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She wanted to believe him, but there was a part of her that was terrified he’d forget about her. That she’d be just another girl he left behind.

Lando must have sensed her unease because he leaned in closer, his free hand cupping her cheek. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice like a warm blanket wrapping around her. “You’re not just some girl, Y/n. You’re everything to me. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Her heart squeezed in her chest, and she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. She hated how vulnerable she felt around him, but at the same time, she couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “What if… what if you meet someone else? Someone prettier, someone more….”

“Stop,” Lando interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. He tilted her chin up so she was looking directly into his eyes. “There’s no one else. There’s only you. Always you.”

His words were like a balm to her insecurities, but they weren’t enough to completely erase the doubt gnawing at her. Before she could say anything else, Lando leaned in and captured her lips in a slow, tender kiss. It was soft and sweet, but there was an underlying passion that made her pulse quicken.

When he pulled away, she was breathless, her lips tingling from the contact. “I’m not letting you go, Y/N,” he whispered, his forehead resting against hers. “Not now, not ever.”

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she could feel the heat pooling in her lower stomach. She wanted to believe him, to trust him completely, but it was hard. Harder than she’d ever admit.

“I love you,” she blurted out, the words slipping past her lips before she could stop them.

Lando froze for a moment, his eyes wide with surprise. Then, a slow, radiant smile spread across his face, lighting up his features. “I love you too,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and affection. “More than anything.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt a surge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. Before she could overthink it, she leaned in and kissed him again, this time with more urgency.

Lando responded immediately, his hands tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss. His lips moved against hers with a hunger that mirrored her own, and she could feel the heat between them growing with every passing second.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their chests rising and fallings rapidly. Lando’s eyes were filled with desire, and Y/n could feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable.

“I need you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need.

Lando didn’t hesitate. In one fluid motion, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. He laid her down gently on the bed, his eyes never leaving hers.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his hands trailing down her sides to the hem of her shirt. He pulled it off slowly, his touch soft and deliberate.

Y/N bit her lip, her insecurities bubbling to the surface. She was so used to hiding her body, to covering up the parts of herself she didn’t like. But the way Lando looked at her made her feel like she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

His hands moved to her bra, and she tensed slightly. “Lando, I—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his voice soothing. “I love every inch of you, Y/n. Every scar, every curve. You’re perfect to me.”

His words melted her fears, and she relaxed as he unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. His eyes roamed over her body, and she could see the hunger in them. It made her feel powerful, desired.

Lando leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone before trailing his lips lower. His tongue flicked over her nipple, and she gasped, her back arching off the bed.

“Lando,” she moaned, her hands tangling in his hair.

He continued to tease her, his lips and tongue working in tandem to drive her wild. She could feel the heat building inside her, her body trembling with need.

When he finally pulled away, she was a wreck, her chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes met hers, and there was a fire in them that made her stomach flip.

“I need you,” she whispered again, her voice barely audible.

Lando didn’t need to be told twice. He stripped off his clothes quickly, his eyes never leaving hers. When he finally joined her on the bed, she could feel the heat of his skin against hers, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

His lips found hers again, and he kissed her deeply, his hands roaming over her body. Every touch, every kiss, was slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every moment.

He hovered above her, his weight pressing into the mattress, his breath warm and ragged against her skin. His fingers traced the curve of her hip, sending shivers up her spine. With a gentleness that made her chest tighten, he guided himself to her entrance, the tip of him brushing against her, teasing, testing.

Y/n’s breath hitched, her body trembling with anticipation. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glistening, lips parted in a silent plea. Lando didn’t break eye contact as he slowly pressed into her, inch by inch. The stretch burned just enough to make her gasp, her nails digging into his shoulders as she adjusted to him. He paused there, buried deep, letting her feel the full weight of him, the way their bodies fit together like they were made for this, for each other.

“Fuck,” he murmured, his voice rough, almost pained. His jaw clenched, his forehead falling against hers as he struggled to hold still. “You’re so tight... so goddamn perfect.”

She could feel every pulse of him inside her, the heat of his skin searing into hers. Her muscles clenched around him instinctively, drawing a low groan from his throat. It was overwhelming, the fullness, the intensity of it all. She felt owned, claimed, but not in a way that scared her. In a way that made her heart swell, as if this was where she was always meant to be.

Lando began to move then—slow, deliberate thrusts that made her head spin. Each stroke dragged against her walls, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. She arched into him, her legs wrapping tighter around his hips, urging him deeper, faster. But he kept his pace unhurried, his lips painting a trail of heat along her neck, her collarbone, anywhere his mouth could reach.

“Look at me,” he demanded softly, pulling back just enough to cup her face in his hand. Y/n’s eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze. There was so much in those eyes—lust, yes, but something else too, something deeper. Something that made her chest ache with how much she felt for him.

She reached up, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the dampness of his skin. “I love you,” she whispered, the words tumbling out like a secret, a promise.

His breath caught, and he pressed his forehead against hers again, his thrusts faltering just for a moment. “I love you,” he breathed back, the words raw, unfiltered. And then he kissed her—deep, consuming, as if he could pour everything he felt through that one connection.

“You’re mine, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Always.”

She nodded, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “Always.”

Their bodies moved together in a rhythm so deliberate, so unhurried, it felt like time itself had slowed. Every deep, calculated thrust was more than physical; it was a conversation, a language only they spoke. Lando’s hips rolled into hers with an almost unbearable precision, every stroke dragging against her inner walls in a way that left her gasping, her nails carving faint crescents into his back.

She could feel the fullness of him stretching her, the way he filled every inch of her impossibly tight heat. The friction was torturous and exquisite all at once, a slow burn that coiled low in her belly, building with every movement. He leaned back slightly, supporting himself on one arm, his free hand roaming down her side to grip her hip. His fingers dug in just enough to anchor her, pulling her closer as he drove deeper, their bodies slapping together in a wet, dizzying rhythm.

“Look at me,” he said again, his voice rough, strained. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his, and the intensity there stole her breath. His pupils were blown wide, filled with desire and love.

She reached up, her fingers trembling as they traced the damp line of his jaw, the stubble scratching her fingertips. “Lando...” she whispered, her voice breaking halfway. It wasn’t a plea or a demand; it was a confession, a surrender.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he bent his head, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that swallowed her moans whole. His tongue slid against hers, hot and demanding, mirroring the relentless pace of his hips. She could taste the desperation in him, the way he clung to her as though she might slip away.

And then his hand slid between them, his thumb finding her clit in one fluid motion. She arched off the bed, a broken cry tearing from her throat as he pressed firm circles there, the pressure exact and unrelenting. Her thighs clamped around his waist, her body tightening around him in waves that had him groaning into her mouth.

“Fuck, you feel... too good,” he rasped, his thrusts growing uneven, faltering as he lost control. His forehead dropped to hers, their breaths mingling, sweat-slick and frantic. “Y/n, I—”

She cut him off with a whimper, her orgasm crashing over her without warning, stealing her ability to think, to breathe. Her vision blurred, her body shuddering as pleasure ripped through her, sharp and all-consuming. And still he kept moving, dragging out her climax until tears pricked her eyes.

Her name fell from his lips again, this time a choked sound, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer. His hips jerked sharply, once, twice, before he buried himself deep, his release spilling into her in thick, pulsing waves. He collapsed onto her, his weight heavy and warm, their chests heaving in unison.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world outside ceased to exist; all that mattered was the two of them, tangled together, heartbeats syncing as they came down from the high.

Lando’s fingers traced the curve of her jawline, his touch feather-light, as if memorizing every detail of her face. His lips pressed against her forehead, lingering there, soft and unhurried. The warmth of his breath against her skin sent a shiver through her, and she nestled closer, her arms tugging his tighter around her. She could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her chest, grounding her, anchoring her to this moment.

“I’m going to miss you,” Y/n murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, like a secret she couldn’t hold in anymore. Her breath hitched, the weight of his impending departure pressing heavily on her chest. “So much.”

Lando’s arms tightened around her, his lips brushing against her temple in a lingering kiss. “I’m going to miss you too,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Every second I’m away from you will feel like a lifetime.”

She tilted her head back to look at him, her eyes searching his face. The intensity in his gaze held her captive, his eyes filled with a love that made her chest ache. “Promise me,” she said softly, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, “that you’ll come back to me.”

“Always,” he whispered, his voice steady despite the ache in it. His forehead pressed against hers, their breaths mingling, their hearts beating in sync. “You’re my home, Y/n. No matter where I am, I’ll always come back to you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away, her lips curving into a small, radiant smile. “I love you,” she said, her voice trembling with the weight of her emotions.

“I love you more,” he replied, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from her cheek. “More than I’ve ever loved anything.”

Her eyelashes fluttered shut as she leaned into him, her body melting against his. In his arms, she felt safe, cherished, and utterly loved. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of them, holding onto each other as if nothing else mattered. The warmth of his embrace, the softness of his touch, the depth of his love— it was all she needed, all she ever wanted.

And as they lay there, tangled together in the quiet stillness of the night, Y/n knew, without a doubt, that no matter the distance, no matter the time, he would always be hers. And she would always be his.

[scoupsakakitty]

Hi! Not sure if you accept requests but in case you do, can we see all members of svt getting pleasantly surprised when their 14th member is clingy & cuddly because she’s tired? 🥹

Thank you! 💎

Sleepy Snuggles | Seventeen x 14thMember | fluff

Y/N wasn’t usually the clingy type. Sure, she had her moments of affection, but in a group as big as Seventeen, physical touch was something everyone had different levels of comfort with. She’d gotten used to high-fives with Hoshi, playful shoves from Mingyu, and the occasional pat on the head from Woozi when he was feeling extra fond. But outright snuggling? That wasn’t something the boys expected from their 14th member.

Which is why they were all pleasantly surprised when one particularly exhausting day led to a whole new side of Y/N.

It had been a long day of dance practice. Seventeen was preparing for their comeback, and that meant grueling hours in the studio, rehearsing until their limbs felt like jelly. Normally, Y/N could keep up with the energy, but today? Today had drained her completely. Her eyes were heavy, her steps sluggish, and the second they were given a break, she all but collapsed onto the floor.

Seungkwan noticed first. “Y/N, are you okay?”

She let out a tiny whine in response, not bothering to lift her head from where it was resting against her arm. “So tired…”

Joshua chuckled. “Yeah, we all are.”

“No, but I’m, like, really tired.” She turned her head to look at them, eyes droopy, voice small. “I wanna nap.”

“That’s new,” Jeonghan mused, crouching beside her. “Usually, you’re the one forcing us to stay awake.”

Y/N groaned. “Not today.”

Without much thought, she shifted closer to Jeonghan, resting her head against his shoulder. He stiffened for a second, caught off guard, before chuckling softly and patting her back. “Guess we finally broke her.”

Jun, who had been watching the exchange, smirked. “Wait, does this mean you’re clingy when you’re tired?”

“I dunno,” she mumbled sleepily, eyes fluttering shut. “Maybe.”

That was all it took for chaos to ensue.

Mingyu, ever the puppy, immediately crouched down beside her, eyes sparkling with mischief. “If I sit here, will you cuddle me too?”

Before Y/N could respond, Hoshi dramatically threw himself onto the floor beside her. “No! She should cuddle me first!”

DK, not one to be left out, wiggled his way into the conversation. “Guys, let’s be real. I give the best cuddles.”

Chan, eyes wide with curiosity, pointed at Y/N. “You’re really okay with this?”

Y/N, who was too tired to process anything properly, simply hummed and nuzzled closer to Jeonghan. “Warm…”

Seungkwan clutched his chest. “Oh my gosh. This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Minghao, ever the observant one, raised a brow. “I’m honestly shocked. You always pretend you’re too cool for this.”

Wonwoo, quietly amused, leaned against the mirror. “I kinda like this side of her.”

Woozi, who had been watching from a safe distance, shook his head. “Let’s not get used to it. She’ll be back to her usual self when she wakes up.”

Despite Woozi’s words, the members couldn’t resist the urge to take advantage of the moment. In a matter of minutes, Y/N found herself surrounded. Mingyu had managed to wiggle his way next to her, laying his head on her lap. DK had grabbed her hand, gently swinging it like a child. Hoshi had thrown an arm over her legs, trapping her in place.

And Y/N? She was too sleepy to care.

“You guys are so warm,” she muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

Joshua grinned. “You’re the one clinging to us, you know?”

Y/N’s only response was a small sigh as she drifted off to sleep.

For a while, the room stayed quiet, the usual chaos of Seventeen dimmed by the sight of their youngest member curled up in the middle of them all. Even Woozi, despite his initial skepticism, found himself smiling.

“She’s really cute like this,” Vernon commented, tilting his head to take in the scene.

“She’s always cute,” Seungkwan corrected, before quickly adding, “Just… extra cute right now.”

They stayed like that for a while, basking in the rare sight of a completely vulnerable Y/N. And when she eventually woke up, blinking sleepily at all the grinning faces around her, she groaned.

“Oh no,” she muttered, realization sinking in. “What did I do?”

“Nothing,” Jeonghan assured her, ruffling her hair. “Absolutely nothing.”

Hoshi beamed. “Except prove that you secretly love cuddles.”

Y/N groaned louder, covering her face. “I will never live this down.”

“Nope,” Seungkwan confirmed. “Not a chance.”

And as the teasing continued, Y/N could only sigh, accepting her fate. Because, really, as embarrassing as it was, there was something nice about knowing that even in her weakest moments, she was surrounded by people who loved her.

Even if they were never going to let her forget it.

[elysiumsasylum]

What it is like to date them - Death Note - SFW

Mentioning - Light Yagami x Reader, L Lawliet x Reader, Matt x Reader, Mello x Reader, Near x Reader and Teru Mikami x Reader

Light Yagami -

Well, it depends if he actually loves you or not, because then it’s two very different versions of Light Yagami. For this, we will say he does. I can go on about the other version later.

For one, dear lord, I feel like he would attempt to push you away from anything related to Kira, that and L. Anything related to the Death Note is shielded away from you. Hell, Light would go out of his way to come up with a better hiding spot for when you come over.

As much as I want to say he drops everything for you, he doesn’t. He is still the Ace Student Light Yagami, he has a strict Schedule to keep his grades up. So he does have specific days, and times were you come over (Sayu absolutely adores you, as you are the most normal thing about Light)

His mom absolutely loves you, she will make you lunch for when you stay in Light’s room for a hang out, and Mr.Yagami has heard good things about you, he does want to meet you but his schedule won’t allow it, especially as of late.

He is oddly affectionate at the oddest of times. However he is rather picky with it, he will only hold pinkies with you, kiss your temples, and just reject any kisses back, unless he is willingly kissing your lips. (There is a part of me that feels he is a massive germaphobe so) He does hold you when he is studying at home. He does crave your touch he just doesn’t entirely know how to accept it properly.

You two planned to go to the same University, just so you could see each other more often, even getting Light to Tutor you when you don’t understand something. His your genius boyfriend, he has too. Your words when he gave you a funny look. You were a little perplexed when there was two max marking students, one being your Light Yagami, and… some sloppier student. But then again, you weren’t one to judge.

When Light was placed on the Kira Case, you begged to join him. However he ultimately refused it, saying it was better for you. Sure, you may have not studied the criminal justice track as hard as he did, but he said it himself years ago, you two were a package deal.

L Lawliet - (I really hope you like sweet things)

L Lawliet does feel regret that you were stuck with him. Especially with how he acts some days. Which does mean you have to reassure him that you love him for all his quirks.

As much as the detective is not entirely known for sharing, you are absolutely given a taste of everything on his plate.

Now, on the Kira Case, you are by his side, however he goes through the upmost of care to especially ensure that your face isn’t leaked, nor your name. He would feel too much guilt if anything were to happen to you.

Anything you bake (if you do) is considered his favorite, until it’s ranked out by something else of yours. He is your biggest cheerleader

He has a bad habit of putting his cold feet on you, especially when you both are sleeping (you are he isn’t), he will put his feet under your shirt. It apparently makes him feel closer to you. (Even if he was under your skin that wouldn’t be close enough so) he is cold all the time so he is like a living ice-pack.

He’s as clingy as a puppy with separation anxiety. So expect him to be sitting on you, as he works.

He has stolen your clothes, on more than one occasion. Again, puppy with separation anxiety.

Misa Amane -

She LOVE LOVE LOVES YOU!!! that is not an understatement either.

As much as she loves you, you are never allowed to meet Kira. (That’s just for her) However! You are allowed to touch her death note and talk to Rem. (“Her two favorites are now each other’s favorites!”)

Rem tolerates you at best, much better than Light Yagami in her eyes.

Consider yourself her dress-up doll. She loves doing your hair, matching outfits, make-up, and nails.

Date nights almost every night.

She will always just consider you perfect.

Now, the Paparazzi have no idea who you are, which is surprising of Misa. But there are a bunch of theories about you despite being her phone background.

Prepared to be SPOILED ROTTENN!!!! Anything you eye for a little longer than the others, consider it yours. That luxury bag you wanted, its your gift tomorrow, because it was on your wishlist!

She is a tad bit overprotective over you, as she did lose her parents to a robber, so. There is that small paranoia that she will lose you too.

When doing stuff for Kira, she tells Rem to watch over you, to keep you safe.

Mello -

Now, at first glance, not much of you is to be seen in the relationship. As Mello is demanding in general. However, I would think it's a hidden soft-spot relationship, as Mello just acts like a hard ass all the time.

You are always sent out to shop for chocolate items though... he promises to pay you back (he never will)

He is pretty sarcastic and snarky, very competitive with you just in general, however, he is softer with you. He will let you win a few times if you play games together. (Dont accuse him because he will just deny deny deny, and he will just stop doing it for a while but then go back to it)

Every time you kiss him, he tastes Chocolate and Cigarette Smoke.

PLEASE REMIND HIM TO BRUSH HIS DAMN TEETH, BECAUSE I KNOW HIS ASS WONT

Dont expect that many dates from him, to be honest, sure he believes that quality time is the best date, however it’s just you two sitting around as he does his own things.

Near -

Like L, he is like a puppy with separation anxiety.

Expect him on you while he stacks his die towers tbh... apparently you add extra height to them.

He is a major gifter, but it's like.. small trinkets... that reminded him of you...like I'm pretty sure, you have a small Pokemon figure on your desk...it isn't your favorite but it's just what he gave you.

He will mirror your habits to see the things you like. EX: You like stargazing? He will start going with you more and more. Do you like baking? He will start asking to taste or help. Vinyl record collecting? He doesn’t understand it but hell, he has some habits you probably don’t understand. He doesn’t judge.

He has a personal finger puppet that looks like you. (He tends to place them next to each other alongside his own). They are always right next to each other

He absolutely melts when you mess with his hair. A large thing of putty in your hands

Matt -

Ehem… Backpack privileges go fucking crazy. You’re welcome, Ladies in the back who wish to be a backpack.

Like Mello, every time you two kiss, all you really taste is smoke.

I hope you like high-speed driving because I don’t think he slows down.

He lends you his protective gear, like a jacket and gloves. He likes you in his clothes just in general.

He also lends you clothes. No if ands or buts about it. You have to wear something of his.

He will lay on top of you. Sorry. (He is not.)

He plays with your hair, nonstop. His hands are always in your hair if it isn’t blocked by a helmet.

Teru Mikami -

You two definitely live together in one nice ass house. I’m just saying.

As a lawyer, he will practically give you whatever you wish. It’s almost sugar-daddy like if you weren’t dating him.

Expensive jewelry is a kinda must, more or less it’s really necklaces.

He loves just having experiences with you. Hell, he will take a week and take you to Tokyo Disney Sea (or whatever the DN Variant is)

He enjoys doing a routine with you before&after bed. He’d even help, he’d insist on helping you wash in the bath. Washing your back, hair, whatever you need.

He cooks. I’m sorry. He cooks. I would assume he is a very picky picky eater and as much as he loves you, he’s cooking.

Yall don’t cuddle all that often, as I feel sweat kinda makes him feel ick. However! Winter is the perfect time as he will allow it. He spoons you though. He will not be cuddled, he is the cuddler.

A/N: Hello! This is Elysium- This is not proofread at all, however, I hope you all enjoy my first post. I’m getting myself back into writing again, so expect more stuff like this. (And posting it obviously) I appreciate any feedback! Thank you so much? I hope you enjoy what I have to share 💙🪼