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coweye · 5 months ago

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The Honda Odyssey

Logan Howlett x Reader | smut | 6k words Summary: The car fight reimagined and it only needed to be like 10% more erotic than the original.

I got carried away. I just love Wolvie so much. I'm so happy Logan is getting the adoration he deserves. Long live the Wolverine renaissance.

Warning: smut, p in v, ass play, foul language.

If you had to pinpoint a moment when your life became the shit show it had steadily developed into, you’d say it was the moment you auditioned for X-Force.

In your tenure as besties with Wade Wilson, it's fair to say things hadn’t gone smoothly. The man was a conduit to all things fucked up, but you adored his loose morals and quick mouth. The idiot in red had weaselled his way into your heart and became something of a brother to you and more recently a roommate.

Now, if you’d have told your younger self you’d be in your late twenty’s sharing an apartment with a burn victim who regularly staples a toupee to his fucking head and a coke-head, blind, old African American woman, you’d have laughed in their fucking face.

So, you’d like to think that as these things go you are pretty damn well adjusted but traversing the multiverse was a bit of a stretch, even for you.

One moment you’re at Wade’s surprise party, the next your ass has been zapped to the TVA and you’ve been given a sacred mission; to accompany Marvel Jesus (Wade) and protect the sacred timeline.

Naturally you’re fucking mind blown, you’re a low-level mutant, fuck, you couldn’t even join the X-Men. Your particular set of skills were a dime a dozen and your flagrant disregard of rules had made you a ‘poor candidate’.

No, the mutant powers you had been graced with weren’t extraordinary by any means. You were basically an off-brand Captain America, just without the gorgeous cheekbones, patriotism and righteous need to do good.

In layman terms, you are strong as shit and have an accelerated healing factor. Not quite the same level as Wade’s mind you. You have, give or take, an inconvenient five-minute turnaround on the more fatally debilitating wounds.

To say you were unqualified was an understatement and to say you were reluctant was a simple fact. A fact you repeated, loudly to anyone that would listen as you were bathed in rich black leather.

“I think maybe you meant to grab negasonic teenage whatchacallit… she’s great, super powerful!” You continue. “Did you mean to get Domino or Colossus or maybe one of the X-Men? “

“No Miss Y/L/N. We have not got the wrong person for the job.” The man you later find out is called Paradox, calls out as you re-enter the operation headquarters. “Mr Wilson requested your presence; he wanted your assistance on his mission.”

“Y/N/N… ten out of ten, baby girl, I one hundred percent would bang. I’m talking raw dog, Barry White on a rug, let’s go all fuckin’ night.” Wade hollers in his own brand-new suit and even you must admit, you look fucking amazing. “Sweet angel, we’ve just gotta’ come up with a superhero name for you!”

You are enrobed in rich thick black and teal leather, your first ever hero suit and it’s a fucking good one. It doesn’t cling, but instead pulls you in securing your flesh and extenuating curves, ones you hadn’t entirely realised you had. The bottom half your face is concealed with a mask, carefully crafted to follow the contours of your nose and cheekbones.

You’d barely recognised the mysterious figure in the mirror.

“Right?! Tailor was pretty handsy though!”

“Oh yeah, ha! - that man is indeed a predator.” Wade says with a chuckle and a fond sigh.

It shames to you to say but that’s when you stopped fighting this whole thing. You looked the part of a hero; you thought that maybe the TVA knew what they were doing. That they had seen something in you and knew that you had a good heart under all the darkness that lingered on the surface.

Wrong.

You were just a demand Wade had made. He wanted his number one disciple at his side whilst he carried out his sacred mission. You were part of an attempt at appeasing him whilst they destroyed your timeline.

Little more than a pawn to be used whilst they manipulated him into a false sense of security.

Thus, you were thrown into a series of events far beyond your control when Wade being Wade decided you were hunting down a Wolverine to stabilise the timeline, only to be once again fucking zapped into some place they called the void by that little English shitbird named Paradox. It’s entirely accurate to say that you were a little less sturdy than your compadres.

Unfortunately for you, the fall from such a height into the void was fatal. When you finally awake in the desolate wasteland to the sounds of blades clashing it is disorientating to say the least.

Forcing yourself to your feet you lower your mask and gasp in the sweet strangely stale oxygen as you stretch out your newly healed spine with a groan. It was impossible to tell how long you were out as you take in the scene before you; Wade and the Wolverine are engaged in a heated battle. From the looks of it, Logan is winning this fight despite being the human equivalent of a knife block with Wade’s katanas protruding from his chest.

For a moment you pause, perhaps its head trauma that hasn’t healed (He’s fucking Deadpool, he can look after himself for two minutes) and appreciate his form, the Wolverine the two of you had kidnapped was gorgeous. Tch, as if there was any other kind.

Sure, you were biased you’d always been somewhat of a fangirl, but the Wolverine was objectively breath-taking.

You’d indulged in comics whilst growing up but when you found out he was real and looked the way he did, hell, Wolverine was your sexual awakening. He was the first man to make you feel that tingle in your lower stomach. Yes, you may have been thirteen years old, a ball of puppy fat and social anxiety but you’d been waiting for him ever since.

You’re snapped out of your reverie when Wade loses baby knife in Logan’s shoulder blade, finally you spring into action. In good time as well as you’re not sure if even Deadpool can survive decapitation.

In the singularly most stupid act of your life you throw yourself in front of your friend’s body. “Wait, Wait! Please!”

Wade has paused behind you, you can feel him weighing up the situation, pausing for a moment to see what you’re going to pull out of the bag.

“The TVA they can fix it, whatever you did, whatever made you the worst Logan, they can fix it! – They have the power to end universes, but they also have the power to fix yours! Help us get back there and we can fix both of our worlds! I promise, they can fix it.” You plead, it’s not quite a lie exactly, more of an Educated Wish than anything.

Okay it is a lie, but you’re sure that the TVA can most likely, probably, maybe fix his world.

Logan’s eyes lock with yours in that moment you can see that he wants to kill you both and be done with it, but that hope won’t let him. You feel a smidgen of guilt for the deceit, but frankly you’ve done worse for less. Your world was on the line it wasn’t the time to pull your punches.

Fast forward four exhausting hours, two periods of unconsciousness and one flaying to find yourself sat opposite Wade gagging down cold spoonful’s of Spam in some dusty ass diner.

You were no better than a man as you watched the Wolverine.

Those arms, those thighs, the way he had beheaded Sabretooth without even breaking a fucking sweat. You wanted him to wrap those instruments of death he called hands around your throat and fuck you dirty until the sun came up.

It had been a long exhausting day and you had been soaking wet for most of it.

Shit, could he smell that? Does that count as sexual harassment? You’d have to ask Wade.

Logan, however, was utterly dismissive of your advances in the face of what was undoubtedly utterly horrific past trauma. Something you were trying to be understanding about, but self-pity in a man, it just turned you on. I said you had some surface layers of darkness.

Unable to help yourself you gaze at him as he opens a bottle of rubbing alcohol. You are utterly entranced, watching the thick chords in his throat bob as he takes a swig.

That tanned skin where his jaw ends and neck begins, slick with sweat and dirt. You’d love to sink your canines into the strip below his ear. He must feel your stare on him as he looks up and catches your eyes dark with lust already surveying his person.

It should embarrass you, that every time he peers your way, he catches you gaping at him like a lovesick puppy, but there’s something about Logan you can’t quite put your finger on. The man heats your blood like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, maybe it’s that torch you’ve carried for him since girlhood, maybe it’s the thick thighs you’d kill to ride – who can say for sure?

In what you assume is against his better judgement, he comes to perch on the booth beside you. His broad shoulders cast an imposing figure as he gets close enough that if you were to move your hand a couple of inches to the right, you’d finally be able to touch that yellow fabric that plagued your tween dreams.

You’re burning up at the thought of him, unable to stop yourself you part your legs slightly to ease some of the pressure. Logans nose twitches, his head swivels your way and his eyes catch your own.

Welp - at least you have your answer about him smelling your arousal.

Deciding that you were most likely verging on sexual harassment charges you decided to focus back in on the task at hand, gagging once again at another spoonful of spam.

“Be a good girl and swallow, Y/N/N, you know the rules!” Wade jokes, your chortle was your only response. What could you say? He always hit your funny bone despite the ocean that was raging in your panties.

Logan stares at Wade for a long moment before turning to your way and addressing you for maybe only the fourth time today?

“What are you doing with this fucking clown? You his sidekick? Following him round to laugh at his stupid fucking jokes whilst he gets kids killed?”

“Why I have never.” Wade is faux outraged at his words, clutching his imaginary pearls as the Wolverine throws around accusations that aren’t entirely untrue.

The Wolverine’s expression remains stern as his eyes track your face. They seem to be evaluating your character and from the flare in his nose and crease in his brow you can guess he finds you lacking. You’re embarrassed to admit how much that deflates you, so you do what you do best; you deflect.

“I could follow you around and laugh at your jokes instead, if you like?” When you speak your voice has a sultry edge to it and there’s no mistaking your intentions.

Logan seems to think on your proposition for a second or two, before he huffs grabs his rubbing alcohol and unopened can of Spam and heads over to sit at the bar.

“Holy hot ham and cheese on rye, Y/N, you fucking slut.” Wade berates you though his voice is as light as it’s always been as he boots your shin under the table. “Trying to your holes filled by Wolvie during a world saving mission, Marvel H Christ, stay on fucking task!”

You swear you hear Logan mutter a Jesus Christ from the bar.

Though as Wade continues irritating the hero hunched against bar, you can’t help the realisation that he didn’t say no.

“You’re uh… well regarded in our world.” Wade complements, being real doesn’t come easy to him. You appreciate the effort.

“Well, I’m not shit in mine.”

“I tried to join the X-Men because of you.” You speak up finally joining their conversation. Wolverine’s back goes rigid, but he doesn’t respond. You’re not sure if he’s waiting for you to continue or hoping you’ll stop. “You made a difference to this world, made me think I could do the same. I just never quite make the cut.”

Logan doesn’t seem to have a response.

It seems your words have an effect as you catch him watching you more often. When Wade makes his jokes, he looks to you for validation of his withering looks.

You’re probably more distracted by this revelation than you should be when the three of you come across a real nasty variant of Colossus seeking out Wade for… you want to say… revenge?

The not-so-gentle-anymore-giant flips the Honda and tosses both Wade and Logan through the treeline as they advance on him as if they were little more than toys his mother had asked him to pick up.

One by one your bullets ricochet from his metal skin as he comes towards you. You aren’t built for this fight; you are completely and utterly outmatched.

All you’re doing at this point is buying yourself some time for your backup to pull themselves from the rubble, however during a particularly spirited cartwheel the metal oaf finally gets his hands on you. Colossus’ metal palm is cold on your throat, and you could swear you hear your neck snapping before you feel it.

With a gasp you return to life to find a slightly dishevelled Logan standing above you. By the grace of god, his sleeves have been worn away in the fight, his arms, oh sweet lord, his arms are on full display.

“Thought you were a goner.” He offers you a hand when you simply stare mutely his way. Locking your fingers around his wrist he pulls you to your feet. You don’t release your hold on him and neither does he.

“Don’t throw the party just yet, eh?” You joke weakly, for a second you could swear there’s a slight raise of the corner of his mouth, imperceptible, if you didn’t know what you were looking for. In the past few hours you had become an expert on Wolverine’s face.

Your mouth is dry as you take in his thick sweat laden biceps.

“Where’s Wade?” You query whilst rolling your aching neck as you haven’t heard his voice in a record thirty seconds, Logan suddenly remembers himself and drops your hand.

“’fraid Metal man took your clown, was pissed with him and can’t say I blame the guy.”

“Shit.” You sigh rubbing your temples as you kneel to pick up the dismembered arm of your best friend. “Well – fuck. That’ll take him a few hours at least to grow back – He’ll be so sad about his suit.”

You peel the fabric from the limb and tuck it under the breast plate of your own suit. Wade will want his glove back when it grows back.

“He say where he was taking him?”

“Oh yeah, that along with his plan for world domination...” Logan huffs as if your mere presence annoys him.

“Thought you didn’t like sarcasm.”

“I like sarcasm just fine, Bub. It’s you I don’t like.” You can’t help but smile his way at the comment made at your expense, his brows crease. “You’re a strange one.”

“Can you do your sniffy thing?” Its impressive, you thought he’d reached the limit with his scathing looks towards Wade, yet he somehow manages to pull a deeper frown out the vault especially for you.

“Sniffy thing?” His words are spoken with such derision, it turns you on a little. You realise that perhaps you are in fact a deeply troubled individual.

“Oh, sorry.” You pretend to clear a frog in your throat. “Please, oh, please, beautiful, handsome Wolverine, please can you locate my bestest pal with your heightened sense of smell?” His face doesn’t break despite your hands clasped in front of your chin.

“You’re just as fucking annoying as that moron.” He huffs “Get in the fucking car, we’ll follow his trail.”

“You can smell him from the car?”

“The blood, Jesus Fucking Christ, there’s a trail of blood.”

“Ah.” Is all you reply as you find your seat in the passenger side and start your own one on one team up with Wolverine. Its not exactly the way you imagined it, but beggars certainly can’t be choosers.

After a few moments of sullen silence, you decide that there’s no time like the present to form a long-lasting bond.

“What’s your world like?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Okay... What’s the first thing you’re gonna’ do if they can save your world? I bet its something boring as fuck, like team-“

“What did you just say?”

“I bet you’re gonna do something boring like-“

“No before that.”

“What’s the first thing you’re gonna’ do if they save your world?” You question, his sudden interest in your words takes you by surprise as he has been vacant from your conversation.

The breaks suddenly shriek as the car comes to a stop.

“What do you mean if?”

“I…”

“You said they could fix my world. Undo it all, is what you fucking said.”

“I mean I think they can!”

“You fucking liar.” The edge to The Wolverine’s voice is terrifying. The realisation trickles down your spine, Logan has been nice to you all this time, you’re finally meeting The Wolverine.

“I didn’t lie!” For some reason you’re ashamed of your deceit, you’ve murdered countless people and still, you’ve felt less remorse. Logan’s eyes pin you in your seat as disgust clouds his face. It hurts more than you can fathom. “Not exactly, I think they can fix your world! – I needed your help and if you killed Wade there was no hope for my universe!”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about your universe!” He spits your way; his hands are gripping the wheel in what seems like an effort to keep his cool.

“I know, but I do!” You cry back at him. “You know how to save the world, you’re the fucking Wolverine! I know how to kill people, but this hero shit, this isn’t me!”

“Ha! No shit.” There is pure hate in the man’s eyes as he stares back at you.

“Please, you’re Logan. Whether you’re the worst one or not - You’re still better than me.”

“Get out of the fucking car.” The words come from between clenched teeth and are filled with warning.

“No – fuck you.” Your rage breaks the banks to meet Logan’s. Perhaps it’s the guilt, maybe it’s the fear for Wade but something within you snaps at his constant bad temper. “It was an educated guess and a fucking reasonable one at that, get the fuck over yourself you big bird wannabe geriatric fucker! “

He slams his palms on the steering wheel, his nose flares and his teeth clamp together. “Fuck me? Fuck you – you sad pathetic excuse for a side-kick. No wonder the X-Men wouldn’t take you, and they’ll take fuckin’ anyone. You are a ridiculous, immature, moron who spends her days following around a fucking clown to avoid facing the reality that you are no one. I have never met a sadder, more attention starved asshole in my entire life. You were right about one thing, you’re no fucking hero.”

Its shameful the way your stomach drops, and your eyes involuntarily begin to tear. To hear your hero say the words you’ve thought about yourself whilst laying awake at night. It’s a knife to the gut.

“Nothing to fucking say, huh, Angel?” The use of Wade’s nickname for you is like sandpaper on your skin, it rubs you the wrong fucking way.

“I am going to hurt you now.” Your voice is barely a broken whisper.

“You’re going to hurt – “His faux chortle is cut short by a swift punch to his face. You’re worried you may have been overzealous with your swing when his nose begins bleeding. The Wolverine is stunned for only a moment before he grabs the back of your neck and proceeds with smashing your face into the dashboard and those concerns are quickly put to bed.

The old fucker is strong, but you don’t think he’ll kill you, yet another educated wish.

“Not so tough now…” He shouts as the radio channels change with your skull. Pulling a knife from your leg strap you embed it in his thigh and pull the lever to recline your seat whilst he’s distracted, luckily, you’re not there when he swings for retribution.

Though one of his fucking steak knives catches your upper arm slicing through the leather. Warm blood trickles down your arm, staining the beige interior of the poor Honda.

Your legs are your strongest asset, so when he attempts to restrain you with the seatbelt, you are presented with your window of opportunity. You wrap them around his neck as you pivot your hips slamming the Wolverine headfirst into the metal of the door. Once, twice, three times - on the fourth he lands a fist to your gut, luckily, he has retracted his claws.

If he was willing to kill you, you wouldn’t stand a chance.

You’re winded struggling to catch your breath from the gut punch, but you manage pull the knife from his thigh that is nestled between your legs and thrust it into his neck, you aim for the spot you’d fantasied about kissing before he’d torn your character apart piece by piece, now you just want to bathe in his fucking blood.

It was the pain that instantaneously made his claws extend. He’s quick to move them, though he slices through the sides of your suit as he buries them in the chair behind you. Your ribs are a bloodied mess though you don’t care, in a few hours they’ll be good as new.

Logan has seized the opportunity and has your arms pinned to your sides, his blood has cooled a little more than yours, he doesn’t seem to want to murder you over an argument.

Perhaps he’s more well-adjusted than yourself, that thought alone should concern you, except it just enrages you further.

“You stupid fuckin-“The Wolverine starts admonishing you, before you swing your head forward and headbutt him.

Yes.

You really do that.

You headbutt the man with the adamantium fucking skeleton– at full strength. Its sheer dumb luck you don’t crack your own skull in the process– maybe Logan was right, you are fucking dumb.

“Fucking fuck!” You cry grabbing your forehead and writhing. Noone wins with a headbutt, except Logan apparently.

“Fucking stop that.” Your writhing has pushed your core against his crotch, and he is already packing quite the heat at what feels like half-mast. He grabs your hips to stop your movement, but it only seems to push you closer. “Stop fucking moving.”

The constant arousal you’ve felt since meeting him returns in double time, Logan’s nostrils flare and his eyes darken. It’s debased and you’re ashamed that you want him, you haven’t stopped wanting him, despite the awful fucking words that left his mouth minutes ago.

“Like … a little pain Wolvie?”

Its relief you feel, you think, when instead of answering or punching you in the face, he closes the gap.

The Wolverine’s claws retract, and he grabs at your chin. Logan’s mouth utterly devours your own, your front tooth clashes with his own as you push yourself upwards, you pull your knife out of his neck, catching his grunt of pain on your tongue as you begin licking your way down his thick throat.

The vein you’d spotted hours ago is throbbing freshly healed, you sink your canines into the flesh and its as good as you’d fucking imagine. His groan is utterly beast-like as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.

The Wolverine’s throat tastes like salt and iron. Thick, tangy and warm on your tongue as you soothe the bite. It drives Logan wild, thrusting his hardened member against your warmth. One of his gloved hands rises to lock on the back of your neck to pull you into yet another earth-shattering kiss. His sharp hot tongue slides against your own, exploring the expanses of your mouth like its his to claim.

You bite at him again then, your teeth catching his bottom lip sharply. Logan groans into your mouth before you use every ounce of your enhanced strength to throw him backwards against the dashboard.

He is taken utterly by surprise as his head slams into the windscreen cracking the glass with a grunt. When he looks your way Logan’s eyes are blackened with desire, he is utterly wild.

Slowly as if afraid to make any sudden moves, you unzip your combat boots, your eyes never leaving his. One boot and then the next.

You thank the TVA’s tailor for making your suit a two piece as you shuffle backwards into the backseat, pushing the thick leather down your legs all whilst maintaining eye contact with the beast leaning against the dashboard.

“You sure you want this Darlin’?”

“Darlin’?” You question mockingly, your voice lowering to imitate his own, as you wantonly spread your legs, your bare leg resting next to the headrest. Only a pair of black cotton panties separate him from your most intimate parts and his eyes are locked on your clothed core. “a second ago it was ‘Pathetic Moron’ to you.”

Your head tilts in question as his eyes lock back on your own, you think perhaps for a moment something akin to regret passes over his face, but you’ve never been entirely comfortable with feelings, so you drop your hand into the waistband of your panties, you’ve barely circled your opening with your pointer finger before he’s on you.

“That’s my job, you fucking Moron.” He plunges two bare thick fingers into your heat. Gasping you throw your head back against the headrest, it’s a tight fit and its been a while but the slight burn eases some of the aching in your core. “You’re fuckin’ soaking wet, you like it huh, bub? Making me bleed?”

Your grab his jaw, your nails digging into his flesh. “I’d like to bathe in-” He scissors his fingers finding that spot inside you and you let out an embarrassing noise, somewhere between a gasp and a moan. “-Your fucking blood… you mean motherfucker.”

You’re an absolute goner when he starts rubbing your clit, after a day of foreplay your body seizes, and you grab at the nape of his neck trying to find something to anchor you down. But as fast as the build was you come tumbling down just as quickly, when he cruelly withdraws his hands.

“No! - Wha- what the fuck?!” You’re almost crying as your torn from the precipice.

Logan flips you over onto your stomach before you can complain any further, your face down on the filthy upholstery as he pulls your panties from your hips. You can’t see him from this angle, though you can feel his warm hands tracing the globes of your ass.

You force your knees further apart, pushing your bare soaking pussy against the tight bulge of his yellow suit. If you had enough of your facilities about you, you’d be embarrassed that you’re currently rubbing your cunt against The Wolverine like a bitch in heat after he’d chewed you out only minutes ago.

Logan’s hand dip between your thighs, his fingers swirl along your hole, dragging your wetness along to your aching clit.

“You think I’d make it that easy?” He asks as he continues the journey back and forth. On the second pass he dips his finger inside of you for a fraction of a second before resuming its path. “What do you want, darlin’?”

You weren’t going to beg, in fact you bit your tongue to stop the traitorous words from forming, this man had already made you abandon most of your self-respect, he wasn’t having this.

“Logan…” At your breathy words the man leans forward, pressing his fabric covered cock into your ass as he folds his body over yours. One hand comes down next to your shoulder, the other explore your tits as he rocks himself into your throbbing core. It’s the perfect storm as he nuzzles into your exposed throat but somehow you manage your words. “Fuck me or don’t, I’m not begging, bub.”

He exhales through his nose in what you guess is equal parts amusement and annoyance, but you’re far beyond caring. He places a bite on the spot where your throat meets your shoulder as his body pulls back. Momentarily his hands leave your hips to deal with his own pants. You hear the clank of his belt hitting the car floor moments before you feel the head of his cock, running along your folds.

The head of his cock is thick, and it feels hot to the touch as he runs it along your slick. All of a sudden Logan pushes forward and sheathes himself inside of you with a single thrust.

You try your best to hold in your incoherent moans but to little avail as he pulls back before slamming full force back into you. If you were a human woman, your pelvis would’ve shattered from the force of his hips against your ass, instead you gather your strength and push back, allowing him deeper. The both of you moan in unison at the depth he reaches.

You grab onto the foam of the seat, ripping through the fabric with your bare hands desperate for an anchor as Logan unforgivingly pounds into you from behind, once again he folds his body over yours, wrapping a palm around your clawed fingers.

“.” He grunts something incoherent into your ear as he picks up the pace, slamming into you repeatedly, slowly picking up his pace. Your core is positively aching as you throb around him, pulling him deeper within you. If you were expecting any further explanation, you’re sorely disappointed.

The wolverine pulls back, gripping at your hips keeping you still as he resumes his powerful strokes. Logan’s hand dips to your clit, rubbing quick circles sending you barrelling back towards your orgasm. As you begin to clench around him, he pulls your body upwards, his head brushing against the top of the car as he holds you against him his fingers never leaving your clit.

“Come on my cock, Angel.” Unable to stop yourself you clench around him, hearing him talk like that does something primal to you.

You fucking loved Logan’s mouth, you bet he ate pussy like a champion if he played the clit this fucking well.

You stopped fighting it and threw yourself from the cliff, shattering in his thick muscle veined arms as he held you up against him, his cock still viciously plundering your depths.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He whispers against your neck whispers peppering it with bites.

Logan gives you a few moments to come down from your high before he resumes his punishing pace, you think perhaps you’ve reached your limit of pleasure, that the threshold can’t possibly be topped until he whispers into your ear in that gruff voice.

“What was it Wilson said? Filling all your holes?” The Wolverine asks, his eyes meet yours over your shoulder meaningfully, asking permission as he offers you his thumb. You merely moan your approval and wantonly draw his finger into your mouth, soaking the pad in saliva.

Logan yanks your head into a vicious kiss. It’s a messy one, filled to the brim with need. The hand not currently locked on your neck holding your face to his, travels down your back, through the valley of your bodies. The pad of his pinky runs appreciatively over the globe of your ass, before his hand dips into the crease.

Logan’s thumb runs teasingly against the tight ring of muscle, it’s a foreign experience which makes you startle slightly.

“Anyone ever fucked you here?” He asks as he bites down your neck, delicately pushing you forward until your head rests on the backseat. You shake your head as your eyes close, his cock is buried balls deep within you as he plays with your asshole.

When his thumb finally breaches your tight hole just past the nail, he begins his thrusts once more. His cock fills your pussy from behind and suddenly you feel so fucking full, Its far too much for you.

“Fuck… Logan.” You gasp almost on the verge of tears as pounds you into the back seat. It seems the ass play has gotten to him more than expected, as his pace has increases.

“Where?” He asks breathless from the exertion as he pulls his thumbs from your ass and takes a handful of the meat on your hips.

“Inside…. Please … Logan.” You practically beg though you’ll never admit it, his rhythm becomes stunted as his hips slam into the back of your thighs.

“Give me something tight to come in, Darlin’.” Moaning at his words you’re eager to obey as you reach your hand between your own legs and rub mercilessly at your clit. The unforgiving pounding, the grunting and the fingers currently bruising your hips and the burning of your now vacant ass send you sailing over the edge.

You clamp down on him like a vice, groaning unable to hold back your whimpers anymore as he finally bites your neck and pumps his seed deep inside you as far as it can go. Logan grunts like a beast as he pulses deep inside of you.

Logan collapses beside you. Dents in the interior of the van you don’t even remember making have appeared from where a stray elbow or knee has hit the metal in the throes of passion.

The Wolverine tucks his cock back in his suit. Ever the gentleman, he uses your black panties to wipe away the cum dripping from your thighs, you haven’t got the heart to tell him that when you’re commando redressed in your suit that you can still feel him dripping from you, your pussy uncomfortably slick against the leather.

After dressing, the two of you sit in contemplative silence. Neither one of you has the emotional complexity to discuss what happened and neither one of you will accept fault for your argument that led to it, so, silence reigns.

The tension is sliced in two as Logan leans forward and pushes an errant lock of hair behind your ear in an act so goddamn endearing, you melt. You still wouldn’t apologise for lying, because you didn’t lie but you can meet him a quarter of the way.

“I’m sorry for calling you geriatric.” You whisper catching his eyes, a small spark of humour leaps into them, you’ve seen more emotions from your hero in the past half an hour than you knew he was capable of.

“I shouldn’t have-“ Logan’s heartfelt apology is cut off by the lead of this goddamn story.

“Well, well, well. Would you look at this, My best friends, Ha! I get fucking kidnapped, an arm ripped off and you’re nowhere to be found? I thought don’t worry Wade, they won’t leave you, Y/N/N will come around that corner any second."

Wade has appeared through the passenger side window; he looks a little worse for wear and has a child’s arm growing from his stump, its kind of gross to look at.

"What if Colossus had had his way with me? What then Y/N? I expect this from Wolvie, but not from you! No, no heroic rescue for old Deadpool. I have to save myself because you fuckers are too busy playing hide the adamantium bone! Thanks for nothing guys. Now the car has old man sex stank to it, as if this hunk of shit Honda could get any worse!”

#deadpool #wolverine deadpool #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #james howlett x reader #worst logan #logan howlett x you #wolverine smut #wolverine x you #graphics by saradika

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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 1 year ago

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DPXDC prompt. Family? Assemble!

Reporter: Gotham News, and we have a new supervillain on the line. Mr Phantom, what are your demands at the moment? Phantom with lack of sleep and with tears: I..I want a titanium model of a spaceship! And to get a good night’s sleep and to go to the local school…and some fudge and.. Reporter: Oh, my bad. Just one question for clarification, are you by any chance an orphan or are your parents villains? Phantom: I prefer the term mad scientists Reporter: Okay. So, Gotham news! And with me on the line is the new potential child of Wayne or Batman. Want to know how two serial adopters will share a child leading a double life? Stay with us and find out. Now let's check in with Jessie for our weather report. Phantom: Wait, what?

~~~~~

Danny spends the night running from the Red Hood with a bag of fudge, Red Robin with a pot of coffee, Batman with the adoption papers and, for some reason, Brucie Wayne with an idea of internship at a space station. Ha! The Justice League will never let a ghost into orbit. Not that Wayne can blackmail superheroes or smth. Danny: Fuck you all! I’m done with vigilante activity, I’m not your competitor! What do you want from me? And I’m done with crazy billionaires too. I swear, I’d rather be adopted by a local mob boss just to piss you off! ~Later~ Danny *sees peering out of the corner Matches Malone*: Are you kidding me?! Robbie *jumps off the roof and lands right behind Danny*: Stop running, lil brother, No one’s left the family yet. Minnie: What about Neal? Robbie *shakes a knife with a bow on the handle negatively*: He’s on sabbatical, that doesn’t count. Anyway, it’s a gift for you, cub. Danny: Um, thank you, but my lab scalpels are definitely sterile, and your blade was in who knows who before you brought it here. Robbie: It’s brand-new! And Archie decorated it with a ghost on the handle. Look! It's cute! With a smile and… Dick: Hands up! You’re under arrest for trying to steal our new member! Minnie: Why is he yours, damn cop? Selina: Boys, don’t fight. He’s mine. Schrodinger’s cat is still a kitten. Killer Croc: No way, my niece is staying with me. Danny: Uncle Waylon? Long time no see. Ra's: My grandson needs steady access to ectoplasm. Danyal, come with me. Danny: Over my dead body! Oh shiii…I mean no. Anyway, don’t you think the alley’s getting a little crowded?

~~~~

Killer Croc: Is he still mad at me? RR: Danny doesn’t talk to uncles who tried to eat his beloved brother Red Robin. Killer Croc: He wasn’t even your brother then. What do you want? An apology from me? RR: That would be nice.

~~~~

Danny: I didn’t think the GIW agents would really fear the reputation of Gotham and not follow me. What a relief! Jason *quickly throws the knife into the sink*: Wow, you got lucky. Alfred: Master Jones, why don’t you eat your steak? I thought last week you were complaining to Batman that 'cause of him you got not many prey. Croc *pulls a piece of white robe from the teeth*: Well, now there is a lot of it. Bruce *gives Jason and Croc the side-eye*.

~~~~

Ra's: You do realize that Malone, Wayne and Batman are the same person, right? Boy, you were born into a family of geniuses, don’t disappoint Grandpa. Danny: Triple pocket money, triple gifts for the holidays, the opportunity to complain about the same family member three times. No, Grandpa, I definitely don’t understand. Ra's: Smart little weasel.

~~~~

Selina: Okay. Purely theoretical. Do you like to steal? Danny: I wouldn’t say that. But somehow I stole the sword from the fright knight. And also stole few jewels but then I was under the mind control. I returned them. Well, the crown and ring of the king of the ghost zone I also took without permission. Oh, and the answers to the test once. And I’m really sorry about the last one. Neal: I feel the story behind it but I prefer to know nothing about it.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc prompts #dpxdc prompt #dpxdc memes #dpxdc meme #rip giw

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malleleothreesome · 1 year ago

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Stage Sex - Fellow Honest x Fem Reader (Part One)

🌟 summary: Fellow convinces you to become his latest star, taking your virginity shibari style in front of a live audience. ༶༶༶ 🌟 warnings: afab fem reader. Porn with plot – if the plot is him convincing you to partake in the porn. I didn't write this with the intent of it being dubcon (in my mind, reader is a willing participant, and I never describe her as otherwise), but please err on the side of caution if you're sensitive to that. It's starring Fellow Honest, after all – he comes prepackaged with manipulation skills. He does use a bit of his UM after reader already consents, and I refer to his magic as hypnosis, playing into the fact that you're obedient to him and he can use you as he pleases. There is a MAJOR VOYEURISM theme to this. He calls you names like "good girl", "slut" and "whore". In part 1 he helps bring you to clitoral orgasm for the first time while he jerks himself off. Also a few lines of cunnilingus and some fingering. Shibari bondage starts in part 2, additional warnings will be listed there. Please let me know in the comments if I missed a warning or tag idk I haven't written something of this caliber before. ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 7.2k words because I'm DERANGED ༶༶༶ 🌟 song: Carousel - Melanie Martinez "And it's all fun and games... 'til somebody falls in love"

Fellow Honest’s tail swung back and forth. He had certainly done his research, and all of that hard work would finally pay off. He watched as you entered the theme park, skulking in the shadows behind the rest of the students. You struck him as an outcast—no friends, no family. A beautiful girl from another world, with a figure that would make even the Gods themselves lust after. The only magicless human girl at the all boy’s magic college. Nothing to lose. How perfect.

“Hello, Miss…?” Fellow’s eyebrow raises as he tilts his head, leaning towards you on his cane. His calculated, fox-like eyes drink in every inch of you. Extending his right arm out to you, he welcomes your hand into his.

“Y/N,” you answer, a bit startled at his overt friendliness. Yet, you allow his white satin glove to grasp firmly around your hand.

“What a lovely name for such a breathtaking woman.” He bows forward to kiss your hand, maintaining fierce eye contact. In one swift motion, he turns toward his amusement park, wipes his mouth clean of your touch, and proudly waves his arm in the air to show off his property.

“Miss Y/N! Welcome to Playfulland!” he boasts. He turns back toward you, weaseling his way deeper into your personal space. “It is an incredibly rare occasion to welcome someone as beautiful as you into my humble little park.”

You dismiss his praise with a flick of your palm and a shake of your head, desperately hoping not to blush. “Oh, no need to be so modest, dear. A shape like yours could make any man fall in love. I doubt the students at the college are the only ones that appreciate it.” A sly smile is plastered on his face while his eyes continue to look you up and down with intention. Your mind runs wild as you try not to absolutely melt into his praise. “Are you sure you’re not a talking doll? It’s a marvel that a woman so flawless could exist.”

You smile softly and look to the ground, cheeks burning. You tuck a strand of hair awkwardly behind your ear, stalling for composure. How are you supposed to respond to a handsome, magnetic stranger saying all the right things? Not a single soul has spoken so highly of you since you found yourself trapped in this world, forced to attend Night Raven College. Your growing ego leaves you no choice but to soak it all in.

“Tell me, Miss Y/N. Have you ever thought about becoming a performer?” He doesn’t pause to let you answer. “Why waste your valuable early 20’s by studying and attending lectures and surrounding yourself with pathetic boys? Women as blessed as you are don’t need a degree. Surely a wealthy man can care for you far beyond a measly degree. And while you wait for him, why not fill your days with fame, riches, and adoration from performing on my stage?”

You stand in a stunned silence. This guy isn’t holding anything back, is he? Charm and charisma ooze from each syllable, making your heart race. It feels a little wrong, basking in the praise of a stranger like this. But you feel beyond lonely and underappreciated at NRC. You long to feel wanted and cared about. Why not give this attractive, complimentary man a chance?

Before you know it, the fox beastman's arms are wrapped around your torso, pulling you closer to him. "Oh, how rude I am!" he exclaims. "I haven't even given you my name."

"Allow me to properly introduce myself." With a quick spin of his heels, he steps back and bows, taking your hand once again. "The name's Fellow Honest, owner of Playfulland." He lifts his head, keeping his eyes locked on yours. "But please, you're welcome to call me whatever you'd like." He winks.

You could have sworn you felt a physical spark. Suddenly lightheaded, you pull your hand from his grasp, heart pounding in your chest. You can't take your eyes off him. You can't tell if your nervous system is trying to tell you to run towards or away from him. The longer you stare into his fire-orange eyes, the weaker your knees feel. He’s so close you can feel the heat emanating off of his body—is his perfume made of magic?

Something inside of you urges you to step away and re-evaluate. "Uh... I should probably get back to my friends," you stammer, trying to get your legs to move. "I'm sure they're wondering where I went. Thank you for the, uh, offer, though. I’ll think about it."

Fellow's arm is suddenly around your waist yet again, his fingers pressed firmly against your lower back as he pulls you close. Your eyes widen and your breathing hitches as you make contact with his chest. You feel his lips brush against your ear, and he whispers, "I have to insist, my dear. My employees are quite skilled, but you'd be the best thing that has graced my stage in years. It would be an honor to have someone of your caliber work for me."

His proximity. His hot breath on your ear. His possessive touch digging into the soft skin of your back. You feel a familiar flutter deep in between your thighs—you like this. You want to protest, to push him away, but the electricity between you is hypnotizing. His aroma—sweet wine and fresh roses—only adds to the spell, drowning out all logic and giving way to your body’s desperate pleas to take the lead.

"I have an office inside the theater where we can discuss this further, if you'd like," he purrs, and you can feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin. "And please, take all the time you need. You're welcome to stay the night. We have luxurious rooms available—a small taste of the lifestyle you’d have if you make the right choice. I'll have someone escort you back to campus if you change your mind."

Your eyes dart around, desperately looking for a familiar face—a way out. Where the Hell did Ace go?! What about Leona or Trey–surely your upperclassmen should have stuck around to make sure the only magically defenseless student isn’t being taken advantage of by any sexy, suspicious strangers. Not to mention the fact that you’re the only girl at school. Chivalry must be extinct in Twisted Wonderland. You feel your heart drop: maybe they never cared about you at all.

Fellow's tail flicks in excitement as he watches your expression. Your eyes are wide and panicked, and he can sense your desperation. He smothers his own smile as your body language slowly indicates defeat. How utterly effortless! He has you right where he wants you. You're his to play with, and no one is there to stop him.

"Come now, dear, it won't hurt to indulge a little," Fellow coos sweetly. Your brain short circuits, blocking all thoughts unrelated to the electrifying feeling of his slender fingers dancing along your waistline. "You're already here! Why not stay and have some fun?" His lips find their way to your neck and you let out a soft gasp as a pulsing warmth radiates from your cunt.

"Fine," you finally whisper.

Fellow chuckles victoriously against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. "I knew you’d be such a good girl." He spins you around, the sexual tension forcibly dissipating as he rips you from your lascivious thoughts and begins walking you down the cobblestone path. His hand rests on the small of your back, and his cane taps merrily against the concrete as you go. Your mind is still reeling from the shocking exchange, and you can barely match his pace as he escorts you to the grand theater.

You stifle a blush as you hear park goers whisper amongst themselves, eyes glued on you, mouths falling open. "Who is that? Is she a celebrity?”

“She looks like a supermodel,” a woman chimes in, her tone covetous.

Fellow would never waste an opportunity for free advertisement. He turns his head toward the group as you both keep walking. “Stick around ‘til after dark and you might just see this beauty show it all off on my grand stage!” He shouts, waving his cane in the air.

The two of you enter the theater and Fellow wastes no time leading you up the stairs toward a private hallway. His hand never leaves your waist. You pass several doors before reaching a pair of large, heavy wooden doors, which Fellow opens with ease.

You can't help but gawk at the size of his office. A massive, ornate wooden desk sits in the middle of the room, flanked by shelves lined with books and trinkets. There's a fireplace and two plush leather couches, as well as a small bar in the corner of the room.

"Please, make yourself at home," Fellow says as he closes the door behind him. He makes his way over to the bar, grabbing a bottle of wine with two glasses. You perch on one of the leather couches and he joins you, placing the wine and glasses on the table in front of you. As you inspect his office, you can't help but feel drawn to a mannequin adorned with a gorgeous bejeweled brassiere and matching pants—if there’s enough coverage to even call them that. Your faces heat up, and you quickly turn away.

"Beautiful, isn't it? One of my favorites," Fellow says, following your gaze. "Unfortunately, no one has had the pleasure of modeling it just yet." He furrows his brows in disappointment. He pops the cork on the wine bottle and begins to pour. "Maybe tonight will be the night. How lucky for me that I have the perfect model."

Something is starting to feel very exciting about all of this. You’ve never had an opportunity to wear such a costume. After being enrolled in Night Raven College only because Crowley didn't know what else to do with you, being here is starting to feel quite freeing. And the way Fellow looks at you… you’ve never felt more attractive. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, gifting you the courage and desire to be exactly who he believes you to be.

"Would you like to try it on?"

The question catches you off guard. He's now looking smugly at you. Your cheeks flush red, but you hold eye contact.

"Wh-what?"

"The outfit, Darling," Fellow says, nodding his head toward the mannequin. "You can try it on if you'd like." You take a long sip of red wine, savoring the smooth fruitiness. It immediately goes to your head, and you can't help but down the rest of it.

"Come now, Love," Fellow says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "We both know what you want."

You stare at the outfit and then back at him. Your whole body feels like it's on fire. This is a bad idea, right? Or is it?

"Okay," you say, almost surprising yourself.

Fellow claps his hands together in delight. "Wonderful! Don't worry, I'm a gentleman—I'll look away while you get changed."

You make your way over to the mannequin, wobbling a bit from the alcohol. The bra is a dark purple while the jewels are varying shades of blue, making the whole outfit glitter like the night sky. The "pants" are a matching, dark purple lace thong, with ribbon and jewel embellishments. There is a sparkling, sheer miniskirt attached, more of an accentuation than actual coverage. You reach out to touch the fabric, marveling at how silky it feels. It's so sexy. Imagining yourself wearing it on stage in front of thousands of people, with everyone staring at you, craving you, makes you a bit wet with excitement. Maybe you do want this.

You look at Fellow one more time to ensure he’s not peeping.

Reader, take note that Fellow is, in fact, peeping—through his pocket mirror that he is blocking with his body. He’s far too good at this.

Feeling secure, you unbutton your uniform blazer, letting it slide off your shoulders and onto the floor. You undo the buttons of your shirt next, slowly exposing your bare chest.

Fellow bites his lip as he stares into the mirror, watching in awe as you undress. Your body is even more incredible than he could have imagined.

You slip off your shorts and underwear next, leaving you completely naked except for your bra. Your hands fumble a bit as you unhook the costume, letting it fall to the floor.

Fellow feels his pants tighten.

You can feel yourself getting more aroused, the excitement of being naked in a room with a stranger—soon to show off a revealing costume—starts to go to your head. You grab the brassiere off the mannequin, throwing your arms through the loops, eager to see if you look as good in it as you hope you will.

Fellow takes his sweet time watching in the pocket mirror. He grins, pleased with your inexperience, watching carefully so that he can see every inch of your struggle, savoring in it. “Oh, how easy this is,” he thinks.

After finally finding the right combination of hooks and clasps, you manage to get the brassiere fastened. You gasp softly, feeling the cool jewels press against your nipples through sheer fabric. You can't help but feel like it was made specially for you. The way it pulls your boobs together to create perfect, plump cleavage gives you actual pride. You shimmy the panties on next, loving the way the lacy fabric rubs against your clit as you pull the thong taut against your hips—a tingling reminder that your body is desperate for any sort of friction that may be interpreted as pleasure. You give your ass a little shake as you put on the skirt, reveling in how good the material feels as it brushes against your bare skin. Engrossed in your own experience, you’re completely unaware that you're giving Fellow quite the show.

He can't help but lick his lips, reaching down to massage his groin through his slacks.

You spin around and strike a pose for your imaginary crowd, feeling powerful.

"Are you ready, my love?" Fellow asks, startling you out of your daydream.

He pockets his mirror and adjusts the front of his pants, trying to disguise his erection as best he can.

"I'm ready."

"Show me what you've got," he says. You both turn around to face each other and he gasps, his eyes widening and mouth falling open.

"My goodness, darling," he whispers. "You're exquisite."

The way he's looking at you makes you feel like the sexiest woman alive. You take a step forward, heart pounding in your chest. Fellow stands up, taking his cane in his hand. He walks over to you and stalks circles around you, gazing up and down as though inspecting merchandise. You yelp as his cold, hard cane smacks your ass.

Finally he stops directly in front of you, meeting your gaze once again. "Oh, Darling, you're an absolute vision." He cups your cheek with his hand, rubbing his thumb across your lips. He wears a sinister smile, and you feel your mouth run dry as you finally realize how sharp his fangs are. You're almost certain he can tell how turned on you are right now.

He pulls away to replenish your wine glass.

"I can't wait to see you dance, my dear. You're going to be a star." He gazes dramatically into the distance, waving his hand like he’s envisioning your name written in dazzling lights. He hands you the full glass and you gulp it down greedily, eager for the liquid courage. You don't even care that this man is a total stranger—it actually makes it hotter.

"Oh, one more thing," Fellow says. He stands up and walks over to the mannequin, opening a drawer next to it and grabbing a matching set of lacy thigh highs. He kneels down in front of you, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he slips the stockings onto your feet. He repeats the process on your other leg, taking his time to run his hands up and down your thighs.

You bite your lip and look away, feeling embarrassed by how wet you are. He's so close to where you want him to touch you, and you're not sure how much longer you can stand this before giving in and doing something you might later regret.

Fellow stands up, his hands gliding up your legs as he does. He gently grabs your chin and tilts your head up so you're forced to look at him.

"What a naughty little minx," he whispers. "You're practically dripping." He smirks, once again bearing his fangs in the process.

Your eyes widen, cheeks flushing pink.

Fellow laughs. "Oh, there's no use hiding it, love. I can smell it." He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your arousal. "It’s heavenly."

God dammit. You can't help but throw your head back in frustration from being outed so easily. Never underestimate a beastman's sense of smell.

He lets go of your chin and steps away from you. You let out a shaky breath you didn't realize you were holding.

"Don't worry, darling," he says, making his way back to the bar. "I'll make sure you're properly taken care of." He refills his glass and downs it. He doesn't know how long he's going to be able to wait until he's inside you.

You try to get back on track to a more... professional topic. "So, is this the type of outfit I would wear if I were to perform?" You try to sound as innocent as possible.

Fellow laughs a slow, deranged, almost maniacal laugh that makes your skin crawl. "Oh, no, darling. Outfits like these are reserved for the backup dancers. With the plans I have for you, you'll be wearing far less." He sets his wine glass on his desk and opens one of the drawers, pulling out a roll of thin, dark brown rope. Your heart pounds in your chest as he walks toward you, unraveling the rope as he goes.

You stumble backwards instinctively and even in your drunken haze, you start trying to take note of your surroundings and look for the exit. "Is this a joke?" you ask, trying to sound as calm as possible. "You know you don't need to tie me up if you want me to stay, right?" You try your best to reason with him and hope to God you didn’t put yourself in harm’s way.

"Oh, I'm not tying you up to get you to stay, Miss Y/N." He puts on his most pleasant and agreeable facial expression, lips contorting into an innocent cat-like smile, eyes crinkled as he feigns benevolence. "It smells to me like you'd do that all on your own. Am I correct?" He tilts his head toward you and gazes into your soul with piercing, knowing eyes.

He makes a show of walking over to the door and opening it, waving his hand through the open air of the doorframe. "Make no mistake, I'm certainly not forcing you to stay here. You are welcome to leave right now. I'll even let you keep the outfit, if you’d like." He gives you a knowing smirk and continues to hold the door open.

You gulp, feeling the familiar heat between your thighs grow stronger. Your mind is racing, trying to think of every possible rationalization to feel safe staying—anything to get your pussy the relief it deserves. If he really was a predator—you try to reason with yourself—you'd probably be dead by now. And he was right, you do feel like you could get off, just from being tied up. Your body seems to be the decision-maker here, and it’s telling you to stay.

You shake your head at his offer. "No, I'm good."

"Wonderful," he purrs, his expression darkening. He slams the door shut and turns the lock, letting the thud of the door ricochet through your body. "Now then! The reason I am tying you up is for your performance. Just a few short hours until showtime!" He steps forward, closing the gap between you. He runs his fingertips down your bare arm, stopping to wrap them around your wrist. You shiver at his touch, your body instinctively leaning toward him, yearning for more. Your face flushes red with embarrassment and arousal. You don't understand how he's able to turn you on so easily.

"You see, my dear," Fellow begins, his voice soft and seductive, "I'm not the only one who's been watching you hungrily." You feel his hot breath on your neck as he brings his lips close to your ear. "Believe me, Doll, they're going to love what they see." He takes your hand in his and places it on the bulge in his pants. His cock throbs beneath his clothes and your eyes widen at how big he is.

"I'm not just a magician, but a master of hypnosis as well," he elucidates.

He's never before been so forthcoming in his whole career, but there's just something about you that makes him want to be upfront.

Truthfully, he hasn't had to use any hypnosis magic at all to persuade you. No, you wanted this on your own. Despite your innocence and reluctance—you wanted him. His cold heart skips a beat at the thought. He releases your hand and once again cups your cheek. He pushes a thumb past your lips and forces you to suck on it. A deep moan escapes his lips as the sensation of your soft tongue against his thumb runs straight to his aching loins. Removing his thumb from your mouth, he slides it down your chin, tracing your jawline before moving to your neck. You arch your back and press your body against his, feeling the tip of his thumb press along your jugular, sending chills down your spine.

"And I can assure you that by the time I'm done with you, you'll be the perfect little hypnotized whore." You shudder as his tongue traces the side of your neck—it feels so good. He continues to drag his tongue up to your ear, and you moan loudly as he suckles your earlobe. Your knees are giving out, so you wrap your arms around him for support. "That's the beauty of my magic, love. No prior experience necessary. I'll ensure you put on the show of a lifetime. Simply allow yourself to enjoy the ride." You whimper softly, unable to form coherent thoughts or speak intelligibly, too caught up in the way he's pleasuring you.

"But don't worry, Love," he says, his voice low and raspy. "You'll still remember everything when we're done."

Your head is dizzy, trying desperately to process his every word. You can't stop yourself from moaning as his hands continue to explore. As far as the current circumstances go, nothing matters, as long as he’s making you feel this damn good. He takes his time groping and squeezing wherever—and whatever—he can get his greedy hands on, relishing in the opportunity to touch your perfect frame.

Looking into your eyes, he's suddenly overcome with emotion—unusual for him. This isn't something he's ever done with his employees, but there is a twinge in his chest willing him to do it. Perhaps—just this once—he can deviate from the script. Fellow hungrily crashes his lips against yours, kissing you passionately. You melt against him, opening your mouth to grant him entry. You feel yourself losing control as he dominates your mouth, exploring every inch with his tongue. You grip onto his hair, pulling him closer. His fangs lightly graze your bottom lip and it makes you shiver. The way he kisses you is so possessive and needy, and it's driving you wild. You've never been kissed like this before. His hands travel down your body and grip your ass tightly, causing you to yelp. Your hands claw at his blue coat and green vest, desperately trying to remove his clothes so you can feel his bare skin. He growls into your mouth before breaking the kiss.

"Eager little thing, aren't you?" he murmurs against your lips.

You nod in response, gasping when he suddenly pulls away. Seeing how needy you are, he smirks, delighted at how much you want him.

"Oh, Darling. Why don't you save that for the audience?" he teases. "You're going to put on a good show for them, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'll do my best. I promise I'll make you proud," you gasp, feeling even more aroused by his words.

"That's a good girl." Fellow paces the room, circling you like a vulture. You can feel his eyes on you and can't help but squirm under his gaze. He grabs the rope from earlier, stopping right in front of you. His cane appears in his grasp, seemingly out of thin air. "Such a perfect little slut, so eager to please. I bet you'd do anything I asked you to, wouldn't you?" he asks, spinning his cane with the flick of his fingers, utilizing his hypnosis magic for the first time that day. He needs to ensure your loyalty lies with him.

"Yes." You answer without reluctance.

Fellow's cane magically disappears from his hand. "Such a good little whore." He takes a strand of your hair in his fingers and twirls it before gently tucking it behind your ear. "Now, a few more formalities before we get you ready for the stage. Shall we?" You flinch at the sound of him smacking the rope against the floor, like he's trying to command a circus animal.

Your mind is fuzzy, body practically burning with desire—you don't even notice him guiding you to his desk. He bends you over the hard wood, your breasts and stomach pressing against the cool surface. He presses his body against yours, his erection grinding between your ass cheeks, and you can't help but moan. Fellow rips off his gloves, tossing them aside. His right hand snakes around your body and reaches into your panties, his fingers rubbing against your wet clit. He slips a finger inside you—finally.

"My, my…" he whispers. "So wet for me already. You’ll look so beautiful when you're on stage for everyone to see. My precious little toy."

Your breathe heavier as he continues to fuck you with his finger, tantalizingly slow. Just as you open your mouth to beg for more, he slips his finger out of you and slams a contract on the table in front of you.

"I need you to sign this first. Standard contract," he says casually. "This is a business, after all." He drops a pen within your reach. All the while, he continues grinding against you, his clothed cock rubbing against the sheer fabric of your panties, further tantalizing your throbbing clit. "Go ahead, Darling. I can't wait to show you off."

You sign your name on the dotted line, quickly dismissing what seems to be the final roadblock in your path to pleasure. There's nothing else in your psyche than how badly you need him to fuck you. Your pussy aches with desire—you can't wait any longer. "Please. Please, fuck me," you whimper, begging him to give you what you want.

"Oh, Darling," he purrs. "All in due time."

Fellow leans in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "I wonder how many people will come tonight just to see this pretty little body of yours?" he asks. "How many men and women will stare at you, touching themselves as you writhe in pleasure? I bet you can't wait for them to see how much of a needy little whore you are. You were born to be a star." His voice is soft and seductive as he plays on your desperation.

"Now. Let's get you out of these clothes." He expertly unhooks your bra with a single hand. With a swift yank, it falls to the floor, revealing your perfect tits, hard nipples on full display. "Beautiful. So deliciously plump and round, my flawless doll."

You're still bent over the table as his fingers snake into the elastic waistband of your skimpy skirt and thong. He pulls it taut, ready to tear it right off of you... but he hesitates, remembering its one-of-a-kind value. Squatting slightly, he gently pulls your skirt and panties to the floor, utilizing the opportunity to bask in the aroma and view of your now-exposed pussy. He grabs your thighs where the stockings are and, quite impatient, rolls them down as his fingernails trail lines down the flesh of your legs in the process. He guides your feet out of each leg hole, revealing your full nudity. Seeing your juices glisten makes his eyes light up, mouth curling into a grin. His mouth waters and he inhales deeply, savoring your sweet scent. He can't help but lean for a taste, his tongue gliding against your folds and lapping up your essence. Your knees buckle as his warm, wet tongue explores your deprived cunt. Nothing has ever felt so good. Your entire body trembles and you cry out in pleasure. He keeps his hands firmly planted on your ass, holding you in place as he continues to lap up your pussy. It feels so good, it's almost painful. He pulls away after a moment and you whimper at the loss of contact.

"So, tell me, Love. Are you a virgin?" he asks with a sneaking suspicion. He traces his fingertips down your spine, awaiting your response.

You shudder, the feeling of his fingers on your bare skin is so tantalizing. "Yes," you answer, unable to hold back your excitement.

Fellow's eyes widen, surprised by how easy it was to get you to admit that. He smirks, continuing to caress your back. "Ah, perfect," he hums. "What a privilege it is to deflower you." He reaches for his phone on his desk and utilizes the speech to text feature to say one thing: “We’ve got a virgin.” He clicks the display off and gives you a wink. "The marketing team will start advertising for a very special show tonight. I wonder how many people will come to watch me break in a virgin? I'm sure we'll sell out! An incredibly rare specimen indeed."

His words send a chill down your spine. The thought of thousands of people watching you lose your virginity excites you even further, and you find yourself becoming increasingly aroused. Your whole body is hot—you can't help but squirm as your juices slowly drip down both legs. You shudder, picturing an entire audience getting aroused, their attention rapt on you. Just the thought of how many people will want you... all of those horny people, with their eager bodies and impatient erections at the sight of you losing your innocence. A hot sensation pools deep in your belly and your clit throbs with need. You roll your hips back toward him, wordlessly indicating your desires.

He pockets his phone, delighted that the plan is progressing so flawlessly. "Tell me, my dear, have you ever orgasmed before?" You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, and you shake your head. He grins, leaning in closer, his tail swishing between his legs and up onto your throbbing clit. It tickles so good. "Have you ever touched yourself?" Your body heats up, and a wave of shyness washes over you as you attempt to suppress a groan. He already knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it. He wants you to surrender yourself completely. "What a beautiful thing, modesty…" he muses. "Tell me, Dear. No need to be so shy." Your face is turning a dark crimson, and he's never found something so appealing in all his years.

"No. Not successfully," you answer softly. You've never been able to get yourself off. Your hands would wander as you'd lie in bed, desperate to find some sort of relief, but it never came. You've never had that pleasure before, and you were starting to think you may never experience it.

"Oh, Darling, you poor thing. I'll have to take care of that for you. I know all the tricks.” Hearing the zipper of his pants, you gasp in anticipation. He takes his cock out of his boxers and you feel the flesh of his hardened tip slide over your wet labia. He takes your hand in his and guides it to your clit, teaching you how to circle your fingers around it in the perfect motion.

"Just like that, Love," he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "You're doing so well. Doesn't that feel good?" You moan softly as he continues to guide you, his free hand on his cock, sliding up and down its length, using your never-ending juices as lubrication. He bucks his hips slightly as he starts to jerk himself off, letting out a quiet moan, teasing himself and rubbing his cock head against the sopping wet folds of your untouched pussy—knowing he has to save it if he wants a fruitful show. The way your face contorts and your lips part with desperate pleasure, he suddenly has to fight himself not to lose control and break your hymen right then and there.

Knowing that Fellow can’t help but touch himself to you amplifies the pleasure even further. Your fingers continue to dance over your clit and for the first time, it feels amazing. Every nerve in your body is electrified, your breath coming in short pants. Your hand feels like it's floating through space as he moves you like a puppet, directing your motions the way that he wants you. He rubs himself a bit faster as he watches you writhing, becoming more desperate and vocal than before. His own lust becomes insatiable. He’s sculpting you into the perfect masterpiece, just the way he likes it—his own custom sex toy.

"Just imagine all those people in the audience," he murmurs. His hand quickens on his cock and he groans. His hand over yours speeds up to match his pace, and he adds more pressure to show you exactly how to pleasure yourself. "All of those hungry eyes on you, craving every inch of you…" His hips jerk slightly and he moans, losing himself to his own dirty thoughts. Your clit is throbbing so painfully that tears begin to form at the edges of your eyes. He has never seen anyone become so intoxicated with the simple idea of him before, and you don't even realize how loud and desperate your moans and cries have become. His face flushes every time you scream his name, and your beautiful expression fills him with the greatest satisfaction, an image forever imprinted in his brain. The sight of you, so eager to please him—he knows now that he'll never let you go.

You feel yourself approaching explosion—the very first time—and your muscles tense in response. "Oh, fuck, every single one of them will be touching themselves, getting off to the sight of you, desperate to be where I am right now. And here you are, moaning my name as I prepare you, just aching for me to bring you to your first orgasm. You'll look so beautiful when I pop that sweet little cherry of yours."

He groans and bucks his hips, jerking himself off faster and faster. Your clit throbs, ready to explode. "You want to cum, don't you, darling?" His voice is low and husky, and he pants heavily. "Cum for me, darling, cum for me. I want to hear you scream for me." Your toes curl, knees buckling in ecstasy. He guides your hand even faster over your clit. "That's it, Love, just let go." His voice is the sweet encouragement that pushes you over the edge, almost on command. You feel a strange electricity ripple through your leg muscles, a release that exceeds every single thing you thought you knew about pleasure.

Your first true orgasm rips through your body like a tornado, tearing apart any inhibitions and preconceived notions about reality. Everything around you turns bright white as euphoria sweeps through your body, wave after wave leaving you moaning and shaking uncontrollably in his arms. Your legs feel like jelly, and it becomes impossible to hold yourself up. His fingers leave yours, transferring their tight grip to your hair, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him as he fucks himself furiously to the sight of you. You were like putty in his hand, melting and molding according to his wishes—a perfect, brainwashed, fucked-out little slut.

Fellow lets out a strained grunt as he orgasms, painting your ass with his seed. He can't help but sigh in pleasure as he gazes lovingly at the blank and pliant expression on your face as he drains the rest of himself onto you. He sighs as his last spurts dribble from the tip of his cock, admiring how much he's marked you as his. You're still shaking and whimpering as you come down from your high, your face contorted in pleasure, your eyes glazed over and staring into nothing. You look absolutely fucked out, and he takes a moment to admire your blissful expression before finally releasing you from his grip. He gives you a small push, causing you to fall forward onto your hands. He takes a step back to admire his handiwork—your thighs are soaked with your own cum, and your ass is dripping with his.

"Such a good girl," he praises. "You did such a good job for me. You're going to be the best performer I’ve ever had. It's about time we take you to the stage to get you set up, my dear. You’re better than I could have ever imagined.” You can only gasp, too wrecked from your pleasure to respond in words. Fellow grins with satisfaction, memorizing the sight of his seed glistening all over your back, chuckling to himself as he wipes it off with a tissue. He tosses the tissue into a random corner of his office and then helps you find your footing again.

Gently lifting your chin, his gaze softens, mouth opening to form a gentle smirk. His thumb brushes against your trembling bottom lip, a caring and fond expression overtaking his features.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you begin to question the warmth in his smile and his affectionate gaze. Is your body's chemical response misreading signals, or are you witnessing evidence that Fellow perhaps has a bit more going on than simply taking sexual interest? A new, deeper desire to understand the mysterious man behind the curtain of your own experience begins to bloom in your mind. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as his hand cups your cheek. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on your lips and you return it, savoring the way his soft lips feel against yours. It feels so intimate, like a lover's kiss, and your heart flutters in your chest. You pull away and look into his eyes once more, trying to figure out what he's thinking, but you can't read his expression. His face is completely unreadable, granting you no indication as to whether you're making any progress in decoding him.

He takes off his coat and helps you put it on, wrapping you up to ensure your modesty is protected for your short walk to the stage. He takes your hand and guides you out of his office, your legs still shaking from climax.

You walk together in silence, hand in hand, your head still spinning as you try to process everything that just happened. You can't believe how incredible your first orgasm felt, and you're already craving another.

"What are you thinking about, Darling?"

"I'm thinking about how I’ve never felt that good before," you admit, blushing slightly.

Fellow chuckles. "That's very sweet," he says. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'll be sure to give you many more orgasms in the future." His grip on your hand tightens slightly, and you can't help but feel a sense of longing for him.

You continue walking in silence until you arrive at the stage. Fellow stops in front of the stage door and turns to face you.

"Are you ready, Love?" he asks, his voice gentle. He takes both of your hands in his and brings them to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. His carnelian gaze holds yours, his hot breath dancing across your fingers. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Your heart swells and you feel yourself melting.

You nod enthusiastically and squeeze his hands, hoping he doesn't pick up on your nervous, pounding heartbeat. "I'm ready," you affirm, gazing intently into his beautiful, half-lidded eyes, feeling braver and more confident than you have all day.

He flashes a subtle smile. "Wonderful." He gives you one last peck on the cheek before turning to open the stage door. He places his free hand on your lower back and guides you onto the stage, leading you towards the center, where the lighting crew are busy at work. He introduces you and makes a show of presenting you to the crew—holding out your arm like he would for a debutante entering a ball, a prince presenting his chosen partner to a ballroom dance. The crew whistle and holler as you walk onto the stage. All you can do is stand there with the distinct smile of a hypnotized-yet-willing participant in the world's most eccentric 18+ theater. Their ogling is the furthest thing from your mind, as your attention remains firmly rooted on the charismatic manager in your grasp.

"Sorry, Boys. This one is mine. No one can have her but me." He places his hand on the side of your arm and pulls you close to him, draping an arm over your waist possessively.

As you glance up, your breath catches and your heart skips a beat; your adoring, hungry gaze is returned by his, a mirror of your own emotions shining through in his flaming irises. There's something strange about his stare—there always is. His face betrays some of that vulnerability again, an instance where he's truly letting his guard down, a crack in his meticulous and calculated visage. It’s a warm hint of softness that signals what he said to the crew might ring true outside of these walls as well.

Fellow turns back toward the crew as a new scene is placed before them, and within a split second, he resumes his demeanor of a business-oriented gentleman. "One hour ‘til showtime. Make her shine, People! We want the audience drooling the second she gets on stage!" He holds out his hand, his cane reappearing like magic. "Have fun in makeup!" He winks at you, the flick of his head gesturing you away.

Stylists appear behind you, and you reluctantly release your hold on him. He flashes a reassuring smile as you are guided away, a bewitchingly charming smile settling onto his lips. You head backstage, and he turns to get back to business.

Damn, if you made it all the way down here... wow. Thank you so much for spending this time with me. If you enjoyed this, that means a lot to me because this is pretty much just a self indulgent fic I started writing as soon as Fellow dropped without really knowing too much about him. I haven't begun writing part two, but I have my general ideas of where I want it to go. If you have suggestions for part two, please comment or send me an ask, I'd love to hear your thoughts! ❤️ Erica Malleleothreesome

#Fellow Honest #Fellow Honest Smut #Twisted Wonderland Smut #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader smut #twst smut #twst x reader smut #twst fellow honest x reader smut #twst fellow honest smut #ferro honest #ferro honest smut #twst fellow #twst ferro #fellow honest x reader #ferro honest x reader #twisted wonderland fellow honest #stage in playful land #my writing

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ineffectualdemon · 2 months ago

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(AO3 link)

The attack came out of nowhere.

Luo Binghe was off settling some administrative issues Shang Qinghua had uncovered and Shen Qingqiu was waiting in gardens of the palace for his return.

Mobei Jun was nearby 'waiting for Qinghua' but they both knew he was actually on guard duty.

Unfortunately it didn't help when the attack came.

The demon lord who had been embezzling and other unsavoury things decided taking a hostage would help.

It seems he forgot who exactly his Emperor had married.

Xiu Ya flashed white as it parried and attacked while Shen Qingqiu serenely moved around the garden, dodging attacks that made it through his defense.

Behind him Mobei Jun also fought, the attack planned well enough to account for him but not well enough to succeed.

Soon all the would be kidnappers were dead and Shen Qingqiu flicked the blood off of Xiu Ya.

"Thank you for your assistance Mobei-Jun though they were hardly a challenge." Shen Qingqiu said as he turned to face the demon in question.

"Consort Shen did well." The ice demon replied. As if Shen Qingqiu was a disciple in need of reassurance instead of a Peak Lord.

Shen Qingqiu grit his teeth.

"You little shit! Just because I'm not Luo Binghe or Liu Qingge doesn't mean I'm low level trash!" He thought.

"It's so kind of Mobei-Jun to say so despite this Master's 'inferior talent' and 'inflexible techniques' as Mobei-Jun was so kind to inform me of back when we fought." Shen Qingqiu spat acidly, not like he held a grudge or anything.

Mobei-Jun shrugged as he moved the bodies in a pile for easier removal.

"It is not Consort Shen's fault. It was unfair to compare him to Qinghua." Mobei-Jun said as if what he just said wasn't absolutely insane.

"I'm sorry. WHAT? You're comparing me to Shang Qinghua!?" Shen Qingqiu wanted to bite something. Possibly that weasel Airplane.

"Yes, it was most unfair. I have yet to meet a cultivator his equal." Mobei-Jun said, managing to make being contrite an insult.

"Shang Qinghua? The same Shang Qinghua I know? Your husband?? The Peak Lord of An Ding who never fights unless he has to and even then he prefers to play dead or hide behind others? THAT Shang Qinghua????"

Surely not. Surely this is a jest made by the Ice Demon who was notoriously not one for jokes.

"En. He is very good at saving his skills for when he needs them and is clever and fast on his feet." Mobei-Jun almost looked happy talking about Shang Qinghua, "His humbleness is a virtue much admired by cultivators as this King understands it. This King did not appreciate it at first but seeing how he uses it to get opponents to underestimate him has made this King see it's value."

Shen Qingqiu felt like he'd been slapped in the face.

"Wait. Are you saying Shang Qinghua can fight?"

Mobei Jun got a far away look in his eye that Shen Qingqiu wanted to erase from his memory as soon as he saw it.

"Like a god."

Shen Qingqiu stood very still for a long moment.

"I need to get drunk." Was his thought when his brain rebooted and he soon stalked off to find something that would allow it.

#svsss #svsss fic #ficlet #moshang #mobei jun #shen qingqiu #shang qinghua

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sommerregenjuniluft · 9 months ago

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@croptopjames submission for mr james fleamont potter's birthday<3

2598 words - NSFW - cw: spanking, squirting, dirty talk, lil bit of degradation theyre being nasty idk it escalated

aka feral fucking your husband after seeing him in a shirt that doesn't quite fit like it used to~

“Baby, I’m home,” Regulus shouts after entering the front door, kicking it closed behind him with his foot as he balances the huge ice cream cake precariously on both his hands.

They’ve invited the whole family as per usual, what with their first year with Harry out of the house coming back from uni for his dad’s special day, Sirius and Remus driving down and picking up Effie and Monty on the way. All their friends will come later this week for brunch.

Today it’s just the few of them though and Regulus finds himself with a spring in his step at the thought of all of them together today.

James has taken the day off and Regulus was able to weasel his way into only half a shift today which he nearly missed entirely after the way James had sat down in his lap first thing in the morning and ridden him until he was shaking, cursing and babbling incoherently, all the while his husband was seated on his throne, smiling brightly, happiest man in the world, practically taking the matter of his birthday gift into his own hands.

“Hi love!” comes from somewhere on the higher level of the house.

Regulus brings the cake into the kitchen, shrugging off his jacket and quickly dispensing the celebratory sweet in the freezer before James sees it.

Not a moment after Regulus closes the drawer to grab a bowl of blueberries from the fridge James comes into the kitchen, huffing and cheeks flushed, a presumably heavy box of just…stuff in his arms that he must have gotten from the attic.

“James,” Regulus starts, blinking, “You were supposed to take the day off.”

His husband smacks a content kiss onto his cheek, grinning brightly. His glasses are smudged and sitting crookedly over his nose and Regulus is pretty sure he spotted a bit of spiderwebs in the mess of his hair.

“Ehh,” James makes dismissively, “I still felt restless after I hit the gym this morning once you left.”

He places the box down with a heavy thunk, petting its side like a horse—he’s such a dad, “And we’ve been wanting to get started on these babies after spring cleaning anyway, remember?”

Regulus rolls his eyes, fondness betraying him when the corners of his mouth tug upwards, “Mm, that might be true. Still it’s your birthd—”

Regulus halts.

“Love?” James looks at him inquiringly, hands propped on his hips.

On his very much naked hips. A palm length sliver of skin exposed between the indecently thin and short gym shorts and the—

“James, baby, what are you wearing?”

Oh, Regulus’ mouth is so, so dry.

“Huh?” James looks down at himself, shuffling in place before his head snaps back up to Regulus, “Oh! Yeah I found one of my old shirts from uni.” His husband snickers, giving a little twirl and shaking his hips from side to side like he isn’t currently taking five years off Regulus’ life expectancy.

“You–” Regulus stops again, eyes glued to the small swell of his stomach over the band of the white shorts, the dark hair splattered all over and coiling at the center, carving a path up and downwards. It’s downright indecent. His arms fill out the shirt just how they used to back in uni but with the difference that it’s more fat than muscle now—though Regulus knows well enough from personal experience how strong his husband still is. His pecs are visibly straining the material, the washed out, maroon letters spelling HOGWARTS cracking from the stretch.

Even more so when James leans back on his palms against the dining table, draping himself all prettily against the edge and smiling coyly, blinking doe brown eyes from under long lashes at Regulus as if he didn’t already have him warpped around his finger hook, line and sinker.

“Baby,” Regulus rasps and he barely recognises his own voice.

“Yeah, Reg?” James purrs, tilting his head and exposing the expanse of his neck.

“How long until Harry arrives?”

“An hour or two, depending on traffic,” James responds, voice all husky. Regulus is going to wreck him. Reduce him to a stuttering, squirting mess in the matter of half an hour, take his fucking word for it.

“Good enough,” Regulus grits out and then he crosses the distance in two long strides, already yanking at his tie.

They meet in a mess of parted lips, clicking teeth and tongues nudging, eager as ever, trying to lick into each other’s mouths and taste. Greedy for it, happily swallowing moans and tugging their bodies close. They slot into each other easily, practiced after all these years, decades and Regulus reckons that’s how they somewhat safely find their way onto the couch.

Regulus’ back hits the cushions with a soft oompf, barely time to gasp another breath and reach for his husband before James is straddling his lap, clasping Regulus’ stubbly jaw in warm, calloused palms and pulling him right back into their kiss. They don’t stay there for long with the way James is restlessly shifting on top of him, grinding his crotch right against the bulge in Regulus’ slacks, making them both groan.

At some point Regulus abandons James’ mouth in favor of kissing over the stubble of his cheek and jaw and latch onto his throat while simultaneously trying to get his stupid shirt buttons open. When the takes too long however James seems to grow impatient, batting his hands away and fumbling with them himself while they pant and grunt into each other’s mouths.

Regulus is nipping at James’ lower lip, already swollen and an obscene kiss bitten red and his husband makes a sound. Downright needy and he’s sitting there on top of Regulus, flushed and with that dazed look in his eyes, moaning like a little slut, so Regulus can’t quite help himself when he pulls one hand around and smacks James’ firmly on the bum.

It elicits a gasp, high pitched and followed by a long, drawn out moan and James sinking deeper into his lap, recapturing his mouth and desperately rutting down against where Regulus is hard and already throbbing. It’s a medical miracle, truly, that no matter how many times they’ve had sex, Regulus’ erection is always at its best form for James.

“Mnh,” James makes, their lips parting with a wet smacking noise, “Need you, baby.”

Regulus grunts, fingers digging harshly into the meat of James’ arse, “Slut.”

Just like expected, James whimpers, and so prettily at that. Eyebrows scrunching pitifully and he grinds once more, helplessly, “Please, please.”

“But of course, sweety,” Regulus relents easily, licking a hot stripe up his neck, along his jawbone and then right across his slack mouth, “Anything for the birthday boy.”

James moans in response, nodding his head frantically.

Regulus nods his head towards the end of the couch where the pillows are piled, “Scoot up.”

His husband does so dutifully and it doesn’t take longer than a second for Regulus to make James lift his hips and rip the sheer piece of nylon off and throw it over his shoulder, not quite surprised yet still horribly taken off guard by the lack of boxer briefs underneath.

Regulus is left with nothing to do but stare at the mess of wet, thick curls and pink fold glistening with James’ slick, spit pooling under his tongue in an instant. He grabs James’ ankles, settling them over his shoulders, trainers still on and letting his hands drive over white tennis socks, hairy shins and strong calves. Digging his thumb in there and relishing in the gasp he elicits from his husband that way, hips twitching with the suspense. Regulus strokes up his boney knees, massages the big muscle of his thighs, the hair tickling his palms softly, all the while letting himself pitch forward, making sure to spill warm breath over where James wants him most right now.

He goes further, letting his hands rake up and over his stomach, rucking the shirt up as he goes and tucking it over the swell of his pecks, exposing him for Regulus to play with.

James is panting, short little puffs of breath, brimming with excitement and barely refraining from whimpering on the way out each time.

Predictably, he breaks once Regulus lazily swirls a tongue around his exposed nipple, holding the eye contact and watching with satisfaction as James’ eyelids flutter. He can’t help but grin, nipping at the hardened nub before he retreats, settling himself comfortably between James’ thighs and without warning diving right in.

James positively screams the moment Regulus closes his lips around his cock, sucking him into his mouth and rolling him around between his lips until the bucking of his hips throws him off. Regulus hoists an arm over James’ hips, belting him down, and wastes no time inserting one finger into James’ searing wetness, sinfully hot inside.

“Ahh yesyes, please more, love, please m-hah—” James babbles, throwing his head back when Regulus drives into him with another finger, crooking them upwards and watching shamelessly as his husband’s precum pools all over his digits before diving back in to lick at his little cock.

He works them steadily up to each finger until he is four in deep, repeatedly hitting that spot inside of James and sucking and mouthing at the bundle of nerves until James’ noises grow an edge.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” Regulus asks, muffled between licks, jaw aching slightly.

“Yeah, yeah, gonna– hnng,” James breaks off, screwing his eyes shut when Regulus gives a particularly harsh suck, noises obscenely loud.

He’s fisting the cushions like his life depends on it, white knuckling them in his grip, and it only takes a handful more thrusts and licks before James is shuddering through his first orgasm. Breaths coming quicker until he eventually breaks off into a keen, thighs quivering around Regulus’ head, squeezing at his skull and riding it out, grinding his cunt uncoordinatedly forward into Regulus’ face all the while convulsing around his fingers.

He squeezes in waves of pleasure and it makes Regulus so delirious that he blinks and the next thing he knows is him kneeling against James’ ass, belt undone, slacks shoved down just enough and prodding at his slick, puffy entrance with the head of his cock.

James is staring unblinkingly at the ceiling, mouth agape and pupils so dilated they’ve swallowed most of the beautiful, dark chocolate brown.

“Baby,” Regulus prompts, bending James’ knees towards his ears with a grunt, “Jamie, be a good boy and hold these there for me.” His husband slowly blinks him back into focus, silently obliging and hooking his fingers into the bend of his knees—thank the higher powers James still does yoga once a week.

Regulus leans in, one hand holding him up off the couch, the other fisting around the length of him and smearing it through James’ wetness, “Now are you going to be able to be good and keep yourself wide open for me or are you already fucked too stupid, huh? An old man? Maybe we should postpone it for next year, ay papi, what do you say?”

James whines pathetically, rubbing his head into one of the throw pillows, knotting his black hair up even more before he swallows frantically, “No, Reg, pleaseplease, I can take it. Please, love, I’m gonna be good for you, I prom–Aah—”

Regulus bottoms out in one smooth thrust, vision dotting with black spots at the mind bending heat and vice grip James has on him, already pulsing around him shallowly.

He grants James a moment to get used to being full, slowly rocking his hips back and forth and listening for when his whimpers turn into soft moans, turning needy again, and then he reaches up to grip his chin, “Then take it, slut.”

The pace he picks up into is hard, not too fast but unforgiving and steady, a sure way to drive James crazy. Regulus nips his way along his husband’s chest, nuzzling his nose through chest hair and biting and licking at his dark nipples, tasting salt and sweat, feeling his cock twitch at the taste deep inside his husband.

When Regulus feels himself lose rhythm he hikes James’ legs impossibly higher, draping one of them over his shoulder before he starts spanking him again. The angle is awkward but it’s working, going off of the way James keeps jerking at the stinging contact, clenching around the length of Regulus and working himself into a frenzy, gasping and whimpering and groaning like he’s getting the best cock of his entire life.

“Touch yourself, baby,” Regulus demands, breath stuttering as he watches a fat tear roll down the side of James’ face, disappearing into the shorter hair at his temple.

Regulus keeps James’ thighs wide and open, rolling his hips with abandon, groaning and panting with every thrust, feeling sweat bead on his forehead and desperately trying not to lose control when James snakes a hand between his legs, frantically circling his cock while Regulus keeps pumping in and out of him.

“If you could only see yourself, baby,” Regulus grits out, “Fucking masterpiece, splayed out for me like this. Obliging my every demand, so fucking good, baby.”

James moans happily, tongue lolling out and without thinking Regulus sticks two of his fingers into his mouth, rubbing over his tongue and feeling the saliva coat them thickly.

“Can you go ahead and cum for me again, Jamie?”

James whines an affirmative around his digits, slurping messily, a trickle of drool trailing down the corner off his mouth.

“Think you’ll be a good boy and squirt all over me, baby? You know how much I love when you cum like that, hm?”

James breath hitches impossibly, eyes threatening to flutter shut as he nods deliriously.

Regulus quickly grabs him by the jaw, “Keep looking at me, James. I know you can do that for me, baby.”

And so he does.

On the next thrust James starts quivering again, fingers working furiously over his cock, mouth falling open around a silent scream and gazing Regulus right in the eyes as he pounds into him and James squirts around him. Spraying everywhere, absolutely in all directions and fucking messy, wetting Regulus’ torso and the couch—Regulus wouldn’t be surprised if the carpet wasn’t unscathed either.

That’s really all Regulus can take before his hips stutter in their pace and he buries himself deep inside James, letting the pulsing of his husband’s orgasm milk him dry as he spills and spills his cum into James for what feels like minutes on end.

At some point James lets his trembling legs back down, crossing his ankles tightly under Regulus’ bum as this one keeps jerking into his husband’s hole.

Once they’re both done Regulus is too exhausted to do anything else but collapse forward into James’ chest which he accepts with a happy hum.

They take a few minutes like this, James slowly coming to and starting to play with the curls at Regulus’ nape and Regulus breathing in the comforting scent of James, raking his short nails up and down the side of his ribcage.

After a while James presses a feebly kiss into the side of Regulus’ head, huffing out a big breath that makes Regulus rise with the motion of his chest before he snickers, “Well, happy fucking birthday to me.”

Regulus chuckles into the crook of James’ neck, dropping a kiss there before lifting and staring into his husband’s droopy eyes, “Yeah, happy fucking birthday to you, baby.”

#sirius arrives and is like: huh since when do you have a blanket draped over ur couch like that? that wasn't here two weeks ag-#jegulus #*gets forcefully elbowed by regulus*#jegulus microfic #jegulus oneshot #starchaser #sunseeker #james potter #regulus black #marauders #lune writes #lune’s tiny fic #trans james potter #ftm james potter #sub james potter #dom regulus black

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koqabear · 1 year ago

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Congratulations on 2k! I have request for the event in the mic is yours!

Dom! Gyu × bunny hybrid reader in heat ?

“In which you, Beomgyu’s odd and eccentric neighbor, take an interest in him.”

beomgyu x fem!bunny hybrid reader // wc: 2.7K // fluff, smut, hybrid au, MDNI.

warnings: barely edited hehe, dom!gyu, sub!mc, unprotected sex, breast play, dry humping, oral (f. rec), fingering, multiple orgasms, gyu is big sorry not sorry, dacryphilia, manhandling, creampies

Notes: haven’t written a hybrid au in so long omg… i've been thrown back to my roots.

Beomgyu who, when he first met you, thought you were a little strange.

The strange person he held the elevator for when he first moved into the apartment complex, unsure of who you were as he instead took in the way you were shivering violently, hood pulled over your head tightly and arms wrapped around yourself as you barely made an effort to look at him; you wore a mask, hiding your features and leading Beomgyu to assume you were just sick.

You had gotten off on the same floor as him, and it wasn’t until he found himself trailing behind you that he realized that you were neighbors— and, though he didn’t mean to, his eyes inevitably fell to a certain something that piqued his interest, white and fluffy and peeking from under the hem of your hoodie as he couldn’t help the breath of surprise that he let out— and, without realizing it, he got your attention, watching as you turned around and gave him a look through your wide, sparkling and slightly dazed eyes; he could only smile sheepishly before he turned back to unlock his door, pretending as though he didn’t feel your intense stare on him before you finally decided to go into your home.

Beomgyu never thought he’d be in this position before; his neighbor, a bunny hybrid, floppy ears and fluffy tail always twitching with surprise every time you bumped into each other; as much as you wanted to hide your emotions, you simply couldn’t, and it wasn’t long before your excitable personality forced you to strike a conversation in the very place you first met— an elevator ride has never felt so short when he talked to you, wishing nothing more than to properly be friends and maybe, get to know him better.

Over time, your wish comes true— but it’s never enough for you, stuck with small talk and conversations that are always cut short because oh, I have to go, or sorry, I just got back from work and I’m pretty tired, only getting more and more discouraged because your meetings are always limited to the hallways, or the lobby, or worse, the elevator. But of course, this does little to hinder you— your face always lighting up every time you see him, your cute ears always coming up in attention before you’re quickly forcing them down with a sheepish smile, your fluffy tail twitching wildly behind you as you tug your hoodie down a little more and keep your hands behind your back.

Beomgyu who, in one of your two-minute conversations, lets it slip that he’s been so busy these days, and that he hasn’t eaten a home cooked meal for so long, half-heartedly joking that my stomach feels so empty all the time.

And as a rational person, what do you do? Make him a meal, of course! Compiled of all his favorite foods you’ve managed to weasel out of him, pretending to be casual about it as you instead took note of them each, your mind racing on how to make them— for once, you find yourself oddly shy as you finally approach him, taking that it’s one of his few days off into account as you ask him if he’d like to eat dinner tonight.

All Beomgyu can think is that he’s never seen you like this— your usual outgoing and eccentric personality gone, your face flushed and your ears practically hiding you as you tap your foot absentmindedly— the feeling that festers inside him is new and intense, pretending as though he’s not holding back the urge to coo at you as he instead tells you I’d love to with a charming smile.

Beomgyu who, after aweing at the intricate meal you prepared and sheepishly telling you that you didn’t have to go all out for him, thinks he might have a little crush on you.

Two-minute conversations turn to five— only because he’s off to work in the mornings, but he tries really hard to push past his fatigue and stop you in the hallways to talk. Boring days off turn into days where he’s over at your apartment— or you’re cooped up in his, never a dull moment between you two as you eventually take those days to cook together— he finds himself looking forward to those days even more, unaware of the way he’s begun to actively seek you out as well; you’re no longer the one pining desperately, and you barely have to do anything but text Beomgyu are you home? If you want to see him.

There’s an unaddressed tension to your relationship; surely, it’s normal to spend days at each other’s apartments, acting clingy and stealing his hoodies every chance you get, right? Yeah, it’s completely normal to hug Beomgyu a little tighter when you’re about to leave, telling him it’s completely normal and instinct when you nudge your nose a little closer to his pulse point, your scent rubbing off on him and his onto you as you bid him goodnight with a satisfied smile.

It’s totally normal to be like this with a friend; normal to lay in bed restless, unsure of how else to get rid of the feeling that festers in your stomach than to reach for the hoodie you discarded because it was too hot, bringing the soft item to your nose and closing your eyes as you inhale deeply— and suddenly he’s there with you, and it’s not your hand that’s slipping under the waistband of your shorts, body alight with a carnal desire that seemingly doesn’t end— it isn’t until your mind is exhausted but your body continues to buzz impatiently that you realize what’s going on.

Beomgyu catches onto your ill state immediately— when he hasn’t seen or heard from you for three days, he’s at your door immediately, meekly asking if you’re home and pressing his ear against the wood for any signs of sounds.

Meanwhile, you’re absolutely miserable. The sound of his voice alone is enough to have you whimpering and crying, his hoodie wrinkled and held tightly in your hands as you shift restlessly on your bed— it doesn’t smell like him anymore, and your nose twitches at the way his scent practically floods through the door, your mind clouded and impairing your mind that screams at you to not answer.

But you’ve never been good with self-control, have you? Throwing yourself on him the moment you open the door, pulling him in a bone crushing hug and hiding your face into his chest as you inhale deeply— your body feels like it’s on fire against Beomgyu’s skin, and he’s gasping slightly at the way he’s practically holding you up, taking in your state before he’s leading you back inside, asking you quietly if you’re alright, if you need to go to the hospital.

Beomgyu shouldn’t have gone inside. It’s the last sober thought that passes through your mind, every other instinct soon taking over the moment he closes the door behind him; you’re tugging at his hoodie, face buried in the crook of his neck as you cling to him desperately, cute fluffy tail going wild behind you at the mere scent of him— he’s caught off guard by the way your hands grip onto his hoodie, pulling him closer to you by the waist as you merely whine that you missed him; voice shaky and soft, eyes brimming with tears as he feels the way your wet lashes brush against his skin— he tries to remain calm at the way your warm breath and soft lips continue to brush against his sensitive neck, gulping heavily as his arms slowly come up to hug you back.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, feeling the way you barely seem to process anything as you stumble forward instead, pushing him back and against the door as you press yourself flush against him, too afraid to make any advances but too desperate that you just have to feel his touch all over you, “Are— are you sick? Do you need me to go get you some medicine?”

His worried voice is what lets you snap out of it, even if it’s just for a moment; pushing yourself off him with haste, eyes wide and sobered as your mouth parts slightly with shock from your behavior— you’re embarrassed to meet his gaze, his eyes wide like yours and his cheeks flushed a slight red; you’re stuttering useless excuses as you stumble back, wringing your hands nervously and chewing on your lip as you proceed to look everywhere but him.

It takes a while before it all clicks for him; your behavior— eerily similar to when you first met, he thinks— clingy and shaking yet holding yourself back as you tell him you should leave, your eyes longing but your actions saying otherwise as you reach to open the door for him— only to be stopped, pulled back by Beomgyu as you whimper weakly at the way his hand feels on your searing skin.

“Let me stay,” he whispers, watching as you only let out a shaky breath at his words, “Let me help you.”

There’s no going back after that; you’re on him without hesitation, ignoring any rationality that tells you not to give in, that you could ruin the way things are— but it doesn’t really matter to you as you’re pulling him along and stumbling to your room, unable to take your lips off his as the kiss grows rough and messy, his hands firm on your waist as he smiles at your eagerness.

You’re desperate to shed off everything; there is no slow and romantic moment, not when you feel as though your body is on fire and your mind craves nothing more than the man who hovers over you. His eyes are low lidded and dark as he takes you in, soft skin tempting and covered with a thin sheen of sweat from how hard you’ve been holding yourself back— immediately grabbing his wrists and encouraging him to touch you, back arching and mouth falling open the moment his cool hands play with your breasts, your mind reeling at the fact that you finally get to have him like this.

Beomgyu isn’t faring very well either; in awe at the way you’re so desperate and fucked out for him, kneeling between your legs and feeling the way you’ve already begun to grind against him— pussy leaking onto his sweats, leaving a stain you don’t seem to care much about as you press yourself harder against him instead. Your hair is mused and your face is flushed as you whimper desperately for him to touch you, do something to make the pain go away; need you, want you to fuck me so bad, please, gyu…

He never thought he’d be in this position; the cute neighbor he met a while ago, now in heat and under him as you whine and whimper for his cock, still not satiated even after he’s made you cum on his tongue and fingers, his hair tangled and held tightly in your hands as you cry and pull him closer to your pussy, still not satisfied even after countless rounds.

Gotta prep you baby, make sure you’re ready, you thought that was nothing more than him teasing you, stringing you along with the promise of fucking you as he played with your pussy until you were a crying and begging mess— fluffy ears plastered to the pillows below you as your hips bucked into his face, mindlessly babbling that it didn’t matter, you can take it, you need it.

But your reaction says it all; he’s much bigger than you expected, eyes widening and mouth watering at the sight of him pulling his cock out and slowly stroking it, hovering over you and aligning himself with your entrance as he lowly whispers if you’re sure, if you’re ready— you merely respond with a hasty nod, leg hooking around his waist and pulling him closer to you as you feel his tip finally push inside you.

The stretch is a bit uncomfortable at first. But you push through it, swallowing thickly and letting out a weak moan that only has his cock twitching inside you; shaky breaths escaping him as he waits for you to tell him to move, his fingers digging into your hips in order to try and control himself.

When he finally gets the okay, he’s no better than you— holding your hips still and fucking into you with hard, calculated thrusts, figuring out what feels best by the choked cry you let out, frantic hands grabbing onto his forearms and your cute ears perking up— eyes rolling back, your thighs close around him and threaten to pull him in closer, practically unable to move as he feels you cum around his cock; clenching around him so tightly he’s barely able to keep fucking you, resorting to harsh shallow thrusts that make you let out hiccuped, whiny moans.

Your body falls limp, but only for a second; Beomgyu’s cock is still hard and rutting slowly inside you, humping you pathetically as he has yet to cum— your mind is suddenly engulfed with the need to feel him fill you up, broken voice quietly begging him to keep fucking you as the same fire from before festers in your stomach, lips bitten raw from how desperate you feel yourself become; hips slowly rolling against his, feeling the way he hisses at the action, pulling your hips flush against his before he’s leaning down to kiss you.

Insatiable, is all Beomgyu can use to describe you, fucking you again and eventually turning you around, face pressed into the sheets and your ass up as he uses this new position to fuck you stupid— and it works, his chest pressed against your back as he hovers over you, fucking you into the mattress and whispering things that have you crying and clenching around his cock; whining cutely that you just want him to use you, fill you up and treat you like nothing more than his little toy— words that have him laughing meanly in your ear, cooing mockingly that he’ll gladly do so, sitting up and watching the way your tail and legs twitch with every one of his rough thrusts.

Even after he cums inside you, filling you to the brim and bottoming out as he feels the way you squeal and come undone after, he continues to fuck you; he’s hard again and your fluttering walls aren’t helping him, your hands gripping at the sheets and bunching them in your fingers as you cry for him to do it again, again again, just wanna feel you cum inside, pleasepleaseplease want you to do it again.

Round after round, Beomgyu fucks you like you deserve; putting your body into as many positions he can think of— putting you into a mating press or laughing meanly as he makes you ride him, your legs wobbly and weak as you can barely make a pace for yourself— and it all ends the same, feeling him cum inside you to the point where it can’t stay inside anymore, thighs and stomach all coated with the slick substance as you can only beg for more, more more more gyu please, just one more?

Beomgyu, ever the gentleman, is unable to deny you— fucking you good during the rest of your heat, making sure it doesn’t remain a one-time thing as he sticks around and takes care of you afterwards, telling you sheepishly that this is probably the worst time to tell you this, but I really like you.

Watching the way you’re only stricken with awe, ears upright and your tail wiggling behind you as a grin overtakes your face— your pessimist heart thought this would end with a friends-with-benefits situation or worse, and not with him laying next to you and staring at you with sparkling, hopeful puppy eyes— and you’re immediately jumping on him, a giggly mess as you pepper him with kisses and bury your face into his neck; inhaling his scent deeply, the warm and familiar smell that will be on you 24/7 from now on.

#txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt ff #txt x reader #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu smut #beomgyu ff #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu oneshot #beomgyu x reader #[2k event!]#[nsfw]#[the mic is yours]

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yuurei20 · 4 months ago

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Twisted Wonderland the Novel English Translation Review: Excellent

Did a quick read-through of the English-language novel (not a word-for-word comparison with the original novel yet), and: it is an excellent translation!

Some quick notes about the more language-sensitive parts:

・As in the English-language game, Grim is referred to as a weasel in the prologue. In the original game, the original manga and the EN manga, he is called a Tanuki.

・Much like the EN manga, the original game/manga’s use of the word “egg” has been changed to “fledgling.”

・The incantation for Riddle’s unique magic is: EN Novel: "Are you ready for your sentence? Sentence first! Verdict afterward."

EN Manga: “Are you ready for your sentence? The verdict comes afterwards. Any last words?”

・The conversation where Yuuya explains where he is from is very similar to the original novel:

"I'm from Nihon," Yuya told him. "Ni-kan?" "Umm. Ja-p-an." Yuya tried the English name of his country, but that apparently did not click for Crowley either.

・The references to Japanese schools beginning in spring and NRC being more closely related to schools in Europe and America have been retained.

・Curse words have been changed into things like “punk,” “dunce,” etc., with Ace repeating “dodo” fairly often.

・The line where Ace tells Yuuya to drop the honorific from his name was changed. Instead, Yuuya thanks Ace by saying “I really appreciated your help yesterday” and Ace responds, “This isn't some highfalutin rich-kid school. You don't need to be so polite."

・The line where Deuce tells Yuuya to drop the honorific from his name was changed to Deuce protesting against Yuuya thanking Ace first instead of thanking him first.

"How come you said Ace first?" Deuce protested. "I'm first."

・Cater consistently refers to Ace, Deuce, Yuuya and Grim as “Acey, Deucey, Yuey and Grimmy. At least once he refers to Riddle as “Riddley.” No nickname for Trey.

・As there are no honorifics Yuuya refers to Riddle by his first name only, Ace refers to Trey by his first name only, and Deuce refers to Cater, Trey, Riddle and Malleus as “Diamond,” “Clover,” “Rosehearts” and “Draconia.”

・The incantation for Trey’s unique magic is: "White to red, red to white.”

・In the original novel Ace says “Thank you,” in English, while in the English translation he says “merci.”

・”Beastpeople” are called “beast people” instead of “beast men.”

・Yuuya reflecting on how Chenya does not use an honorific with Riddle was changed to, “Yuya had only ever heard Trey talk about him so casually.”

・The line about Cater using honorifics with everyone except Trey in serious situations was changed to, “He usually sounded so lighthearted when he called Trey's name…And Cater only said his name so seriously when it was truly important.”

・The EN game switched from “magical healers” to “medical mages,” and the novel went with ”magical healers.”

・Ace refers to Riddle without an honorific just once in the original novel. This is commented on in a line changed to, “You’re already bossing him around.”

・(There is a typo where Cater and Trey are talking about Riddle’s upcoming duel, and a line that Trey says is attributed to Deuce. Deuce is not in the scene.)

・(There is also a typo where Enchanted Mine (changed from ”Dwarf Mine”) is written as “Enchanted Mind.”)

・Ace’s original line of “the way a kid turns out doesn't determine the value of their parents” was written backwards in the EN game, but the EN manga and novel are both accurate to the original game/manga/novel.

・Cater’s line in the original game/manga/novel admonishing Trey for hiding his true feelings has been upheld in the novel as well as the EN manga, with only the EN game rewritten to Cater admonishing himself, instead. (This was possibly subject pronoun confusion.)

・Much like the EN game, Leona’s “Be prepared” was rewritten in the EN novel.

#twstnovel #twisted wonderland

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verdantwyrm · 2 months ago

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my silly little hcs

more under the cut

Curly

comes from a very very very big family, the kind of australian family that always has either a slow roast or a grill on at all times. their house smells amazing. but no food lasts longer than 10 minutes.

went to college with jimmy, absolutely had a weird fling with him that he doesn't really think about anymore. if you ask him about it he just shrugs "ah yeah you know, we were young. still figuring stuff out" and jimmy is in the corner still recovering in the worst way possible

had a dog when he was younger named harry, he was a boston terrier

actually wanted to join the air force and be a real pilot, but he had to settle for next best and applied to be a freighter pilot a couple years later after becoming burnt out in his early 20's when pony expressed picked him up, he offered the job to jimmy when he was 25

Smokes with Jimmy, totally shouldn't. Anya gives him a serious glare every time he does it, but she doesn't turn down a cigarette either, depending on the day

is sort of ? dating anya ? its a bit complicated, its become a situation of waiting for the first person to act first (they never do)

voice claim - bluey's dad, bandit

Anya

comes from a very small village, she moved away from home when she turned 19 to go pursue medicine in america, unfortunetly it got pricey very quickly, and she was unable to finish her courses, but kept applying regardless until pony express approached her. shes been with them ever since

had a white cat when she was younger named roan

her younger sister got married as soon as she turned 18, which made anya feel a little left, she felt very "behind" and ended up making some questionable relationship choices because of this. realized that was stupid a little too late.

has a very obvious and very terrible crush on curly, doesn't do a very good job at hiding it but thankfully the man is very dumb and hans't realised it yet (neither has she) (daisuke brings it up once and she almost dropped her favorite mug)

doesn't have her license, and probabaly never will. she rides a bike everywhere, is definitely some end of the hippie spectrum but never has enough free time to truly commit to that.

she has a habit of chewing her fingernails whenever she is nervous, so she paints them regularly to try and break the habit. Her favorite color is actually orange.

voice claim - diane nguyen

Swansea

despite what many people think, Swansea actually got divorced on relatively good terms with his ex-wife. As he was sober entering the relationship, and ended it. He still talks to his kids, and laments over how they sound just like Daisuke sometimes. They'd be around the same age too.

he actually hates coffee, and can't stand the taste of it. Tastes like dirt to him, and would rather drink something sweet or even tea if it's an option. He sometimes drinks coffee if it's the only thing though

Curly was actually his intern for a little while when he first started out, he was helping out carrying boxes and moving stuff around to help him get acquainted with the layout of the ship or to put those young legs to work. They go back a little, so it means something to Swansea to see him achieve what he has. He would never admit it publically, but he is proud of him.

He wanted to play instruments when he was younger but never got much say in it considering how quickly his life fell apart. So he settled for the first thing before him to get him out of that pit, and it just stuck.

He plays card games in his spare time, usually practising. Now that he has a victim, he beats Daisuke at everything.

Swansea actually did not trust Jimmy at all when he first came on board, said Jimmy reminded him too much of a weasel. And he kept that right up until the end.

He notices a little bit of his own kids in all the crew, and it's definitely something he internalizes like crazy. Being so far away from his own kids, he tends to let them lean on him a little more than he should and would make a poor Captain for this exact trait. He just can't bring himself to be too strict, and even after reprimanding Daisuke, he feels extremely guilty, even if it was an important lesson. His sentimentality gets to him easily, but he tries to not show it.

Voice Claim - Ron Swanson

Jimmy

Wanted to be a cop at some point.

He doesn't speak to his sisters, they've long left him or gone off to go do their own thing. He's better off without them anyways.

He met Curly when he was younger, and wanted to desperately be his friend but didn't know how to express that. So he hit Curly over the head with his lunchbox, and they've been friends ever since. Curly took it as just roughhousing, something he was very used to in his large family.

He is allergic to cats, and constantly sneezed around Daisuke in the first few months.

Jimmy actually hates playing board games, he thinks they're extremely boring, but it was very hard to say no when Curly would drag him into them every time. It got the point where he had to start purposefully avoiding him until he got over this phase.

After Curly graduated early and went off to go to flight school, Jimmy dropped out. He was studying finance and law. Went on a four-year bender, and got himself stuck in multiple dark pits that he thought couldn't get any deeper until he ended up somehow on Curly's doorstep. Curly has been working hard to essentially rehabilitate him to a healthier life. Jimmy hates this.

Totally doesn't have a huge crush on Curly still, it rots him to his core at how disgusting it is. Half the time he doesn't even know if these feelings come from desperation, genuine love or anxiety of being in that pit again, and he rolls his eyes at the idea of even discussing it.

Despite being very lanky, he is not the most acrobatic man ever. And is quite clumsy, he tries to hide this but Curly always notices and it drives him nuts.

Voice claim - Bojack Horseman

Daisuke

He has three cats back at home. Junebug, Jazzy and Ducky.

Daisuke actually really likes pokemon, but unfortunately, he didn't bring any games with him. He complains about it almost daily.

Even though he beats Anya in board games, he will probably never beat Swansea. He's so jealous of the card deck he holds.

Has an even bigger sweet tooth than Swansea somehow, and absolutely split one of the last few candy bars from the vending machines.

His mother is a writer, and his father is an architect. He wanted to pursue art but felt like it was very lacking in comparison to his parent's achievements. He didn't resist when they gave him the opportunity to intern, but It wasn't fantastic news either.

Daisuke is actually extremely smart in very technical stuff. He will repeat the dumbest string of words, but accomplish something only a master electrician could in seconds. Swansea and Curly don't understand how his brain works, but it gets the job done. (Its the Autism)

Daisuke is actually terrified of doing something without his parent's permission. He was never an extremely rebellious kid, and it always felt weird to do something without them knowing or their permission first. He was a nervous kid and wasn't always sure if what he was doing was the right thing to do or if he was doing it correctly. This was a habit that got on Jimmy's nerves very quickly.

Daisuke sings in the shower, very loudly. He brought his own walkman, but unfortunately, that got misplaced somehow and he's been bummed out ever since. In return, Swansea and Anya let him have choice of the music sometimes to make him feel included.

He doodles with Anya, showing off their art skills to each other. Anya has a portrait he drew of her in her office desk. She loves it.

Voice Claim - Finn the human

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing jimmy #mouthwashing curly #mouthwashing swansea #mouthwashing anya #i spent so long in this pleaaassseeeeeee #headcanons #i think anya's voice fits the MOST #and jimmy's #mouthwashing daisuke

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attapullman · 9 months ago

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Stupid White Car | Neighbor!Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: Pretty trees and cozy fire pit nights are all you expected when Robert mentioned wanting to landscape his backyard. And then the architect in the slutty white Benz shows up.

Word Count: 810

Warnings: none except sorry if your name is Alyssa 😬

A Note From Mo: The world's biggest shoutout to my favourite Bradshaw Baddie @roosterforme for coming up with this delicious idea and beta-ing this sake-written, jealousy-fueled oneshot for the neighbor!Bob anthology. Hope this satisfies everyone's appetite until Part III graces your screens.

The project was supposed to be done a week ago. No more white Mercedes in his driveway, no more lemonade on the back patio, no more mulch deliveries outside business hours. No more her.

When Robert announced he was finally landscaping his boring grass lawn while on leave, you had encouraged him. Dreams of sitting out there with him by a fire pit under some string lights danced before your eyes. But now you’re wishing he had kept his patchy lawn that turned into a mud pit at the slightest chance of rain.

Then she showed up.

You were working in your home office, deep into a spreadsheet, when you heard a female voice in the yard next door. Face pressed into the window, turning just so, a tiny postage stamp of his yard visible from your vantage point. Your sweet boyfriend walking around his desolate lawn, pointing out problems, while the most stunning woman followed him, smiling and nodding and jotting down notes.

It should be illegal for him to look so good in faded jeans with grass stains. Or for her to pull off work boots so well.

You missed your three o’clock meeting observing them from your hideout, having moved to the laundry room where you could see his yard better. Watched them sit at the little finicky table he needed to replace and go over pages in her catalog, pointing out the design features he liked and what she recommended.

You didn’t know words like drip irrigation and concept plan could sound so…intimate.

Now it’s been weeks, and that annoying little car is always in his driveway. When she’s not “supervising” the subcontractor, she’s delivering supplies or needing to go over the plans one last time. The 15th has come and gone, and yet she’s still here. And you’re not sure whether it’s your imagination or not that her blouses suddenly have one less button done.

It’s a beautiful spring day outside, and you wish you were out there instead of holed up trying to make sense of this budget. The window is open to allow a soft breeze, tickling the skin not covered by your thin tshirt. An hour ago you shot Robert a text asking if he wanted to have dinner out tonight, try out that new bistro with the cute patio and enjoy the sunshine and some tiramisu.

Maybe add in an evening walk along the beach? Ending with a night cap and him wrapped in your overstuffed comforter, enjoying his last night of leave blissfully unaware of the rest of the world.

Checking your quiet phone again, you settle down to your computer. And then you hear a perfect twinkle of a laugh.

You abandon your computer and race down to the laundry, face pressed against the glass as emerald green jealousy licks along your skin.

No wonder you haven’t heard from Robert, his full attention is on his landscape architect as she has him choose between gravels for the stepping stones they’re finally installing. He’s brought out lemonade. Innocent blue eyes trained on her and laughing good-naturedly as she makes a joke about mortar. A joke a little too sultry for your taste.

You didn’t even hear her car pull in. When you talked to him last night he acted like all decisions had been made, one more full day of work and his backyard would be summer ready. It’s not a surprise she has weaseled herself into another visit.

Their hands accidentally brush as they flip between sample pages. Your entire being is rigid, the world in front of you an ominous red. How dare she touch what’s yours!

Before reasoning can interfere, you’re slipping on sandals and racing to the back fence. Pupils wild, heart racing, the green-eyed monster hot on your heels.

The latch on his fence, newly installed, nearly pulverized in your jealousy-fueled mission. The gate swings open and there they sit, too close for your liking, her manicured fingers gliding along his forearm as she explains costs.

Robert stands from his chair, shock and surprise written all over his face. He’s never seen this look in your eyes, this possession written all over your features. The woman raises her eyebrows to you, mildly shocked, mildly irritated you’ve interrupted her meeting with her favorite client.

“Alyssa, this is my, uh, neighbor next door…” he trails off awkwardly, realizing he’s never had to introduce you since that fateful night in your kitchen.

You see her smirk. Her revealing blouse. Her eyes that pity you. And from the corner of your eye, you see that stupid white Mercedes.

Rounding the rickety table, Robert’s eyes are filled with nothing but affection. A gentle reminder that she’s had his time, but you have his heart.

Your shoulders relax, returning her smug smile as you complete his sentence. “Neighbor…and girlfriend.”

taglist: @bella-maria2018 @berryvanille @bobfloydsbabe @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @cosmoeticss @creatchie8 @desert-fern @drxgxnslxyer @erospecies @hangmanapologist @hauntedduckdefendor @hiireadstuff @himbos-on-ice @jessicab1991 @just-in-case-iloveyou @kmc1989 @livingoutsidethetardis @mariaenchanted @maryelizabeth13 @melsunshine @midnightmagpiemama @petersunderoos96 @pinkdaisies9285 @primroseluna @roosterforme @seitmai @senawashere @sometimesanalice @sorchathered @sweetwhispersofchaos @sydsommersss @topherwrites @unpretty-reader @xoxabs88xox @yuckosworld

join the taglist for any fic

#neighbor!bob #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd fic #bob floyd fic #top gun: maverick fic #bob floyd fan fiction #robert bob floyd fan fiction #top gun: maverick fan fiction

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white-weasel · 8 months ago

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Survivor 46 has had so much balls to the walls insane (read: iconic) shit. Like ALL of this happened in one season:

Jelinsky quitting the Sweat task within like an hour of starting it and then throwing the hour glass in frustration

“Several means seven, not four”

Everyone clowning on Jelinsky (including Jeff!!!) for the rest of the season about the above conviction

“I didn’t come to win a million dollars, I came here to win a million hearts”

Bhanu cursing God for putting him on Survivor in the first place if he was going to be voted out

Bhanu legit getting on his hands and knees, begging Tiff not to vote him out and Tiff telling him to stand up because he’s a grown man

Really everything involving the Bhanu boot with him running around the island

Jem deciding to plant the Beware Advantage, but not planting anything below it, leading to Siga digging a massive hole and basically uprooting a whole bush

Venus taking credit for the Soda blindside, which pissed off Tevin who wanted to take credit for the Soda blindside, which pissed off Liz who wanted to take credit for the Soda blindside (or really just everyone fighting like children over “whose move” something was)

Q overanalyzing a game of hide and seek (Big mistake!)

Q blowing up tribal and asking to be voted out, only for Tevin to go home

The entire Applebee’s reward fiasco

Probably missed some stuff because of just how jam packed this season is and really hope the last few episodes deliver

#survivor #survivor 46 #survivor cbs #cbs survivor #white weasel talks

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stuck-writing-sickos · 3 months ago

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Slick (yandere coworker )

PROLOGUE

[Masterlist]

Tw: stalking, fixation

Don't act so high and mighty. You're not better than me.

I am not in love with you.

You know who you are.

You like the uncertainty. You like secrecy. That's why you hide, didn't you? You sink into your white collar and polished shoes. You smile, all eyes and teeth. You move, all flicks of the wrists and tense shoulders.

Last week's work party you nervously shrunk when you saw my eyes studying you. You were bashful, hiding behind the rim of your glass. Did the sweet cognac heighten your shame? Did it give you just the right push to weasel away from the conversation when I geared it toward you? It was a simple question - "you have seen that movie, right? You mentioned it a while ago". Why didn't you answer? Why did you pretend to splatter the drink all over your chest and excused yourself? Was it me that unnerved you? You must have gotten me all wrong.

I'm not in love with you. I just wanted to hear you talk. You're eerie and weird, despite your smiley, bubbly facade. I saw the way your smile washed away the moment you thought you were out of sight. I saw the way you leaned against the wall slouched when people walked away from a conversation with you. I saw the way your eyes dulled when you heard unsavory things from our boss, yet you bit back your tongue and moved along smilingly. You hated it here. That wasn't special - we all hate it here. But you refused to talk about it when it was between colleagues. You stepped away from gossips and trashtalk. How come?

Did you know we hated you, too? We think you're brown-nosing management too hard when you distanced yourself away from us. You probably know. You ate lunch alone and only visited crucial gatherings. You love the Irish goodbye, too - we never knew when you left. You're odd and left out, and you know it. So how come you were still thorough with gifts and birthday cards, with souvenirs from vacations and steady snacks for the dept that you never touch? Where does this committed effort come from?

See... I'm not in love with you. I just wanted to know your process. What is your deal? Where did you come from? How did you grow up? I am curious, that's all. I want to know what makes you the way you are, all pretense courtesy and sheepish smiles-and-nods. I tried to take a look at your cubicle when you weren't around. You left your books behind - Jung and Strauss. I read them, too, but I didn't get all high and mighty about it. They're outdated anyway. Did you move on to newer philosophers yet, or are they your only gimmick?

Whatever. Doesn't matter to me, cause I'm not in love with you.

I'm just curious, and I like anomalies.

#yandere oc #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere reader insert #yandere x reader #male yandere #oc #yandere x you

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advisorykitty · 2 months ago

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Hello can I make a request? Did you watch the anime Bungo Stray Dogs because I want to request Randal with Reader like Elise. She was "created" by Randal and in the episode when Sebastian first appeared, Randal spent so much time with Sebastian that Elise!Reader was upset because he didn't attend the tea party the two usually held.

Spilled Tea

Elise! Reader x Randal

[Y/N] was furious.

Not the "I'm-going-to-yell-until-my-voice-goes-hoarse" kind of furious—no, it was the quiet, simmering kind that settled deep in her gut, like hot coals waiting for someone to poke at them. She paced the length of the hallway, arms crossed, glaring at the pristine white walls of Luther’s house as if they were the source of all her problems.

Why was she mad?

Because Randal—her dear, ridiculous creator—had once again forgotten their tea party.

It wasn’t like it was some casual thing they did. No, this was tradition. Every week, at the same time, they would gather in the little tea room, surrounded by dainty china and enough sugary snacks to make even Luther cringe. And what had Randal done? Ditched her. For Sebastian.

Ugh. Sebastian.

The new pet—awkward and always a little too stiff—had somehow weaseled his way into Randal’s good graces, and now Randal was all about Sebastian, he wasnt even that good of a birthday gift!. They spent hours together, playing games, talking about who-knows-what, while [Y/N] was left to brew tea alone.

She kicked at the edge of a rug as she stormed down the hall. The sound of her foot smacking the floor echoed, and she half-wondered if anyone was going to come check on her. Probably not. No one ever did.

"They’re all idiots," she muttered, tugging at the ends of her hair in frustration. "Every last one of them."

Just as she was about to storm back into the tea room and throw a cup for good measure, she ran smack into a figure.

Thud.

"Ow!" she yelped, stumbling back.

Nyon stood there, looking bewildered, his large always shocked eyes blinking in confusion. His hat—never removed—tilted a bit to one side as he scratched the back of his head, his fingers moving in a nervous rhythm behind him.

"S-sorry," Nyon muttered, his English broken as usual. "Didn’t see."

"Of course you didn’t," [Y/N] grumbled, rubbing her arm where she’d collided with him. "Nobody does."

"Why... angry?" Nyon asked, tilting his head, trying to figure her out.

"I’m not angry," she snapped automatically, then sighed when she saw his confused look. "Okay, fine. I’m mad. Randal forgot about me again."

Nyon’s expression didn’t change much, but he did take a step back, giving her some space. "Randal... distracted. With... Sebastian."

"Tell me something I don’t know," [Y/N] muttered. She slumped against the wall, crossing her arms tighter around her chest. "He never misses our tea parties. Until now."

Nyon shuffled his feet, clearly not knowing what to say. He wasn’t exactly known for being talkative or helpful in emotional crises. "You still... important," he mumbled.

"Yeah, well, that doesn’t help much," she sighed, feeling the irritation bubbling inside her again. "I feel like I’m just a side note to him now."

Just then, a voice echoed from down the hall.

"You’re still sulking, huh?"

It was Nyen.

He strolled in, smirking as he leaned against the wall. He was always ready to poke fun at her misfortunes. His arms were crossed, and his tone dripped with sarcasm. "What’s the matter? Can’t keep your 'CrEaToRs' attention?"

[Y/N] shot him a glare. "Shut up, Nyen."

"Oh, come on," he said, feigning sympathy. "Did you really think he’d stick around when he has a shiny new toy? How naive can you be?"

She rolled her eyes. "This isn’t just about being jealous, you know. It’s about feeling—"

"Emotional," Nyen cut in, mocking her tone. "Yeah, yeah. Next time, just grab Randal by the collar and drag him to tea. No one’s stopping you."

"Thanks for the advice, really helpful," [Y/N] retorted, but a small part of her appreciated his brazen honesty.

Before she could retort, Randal appeared at the end of the hallway, his usual cheerful demeanor shining through. "Y/N?"

He stood there looking a bit sheepish, as if he had just realized something was off. Sebastian hovered behind him, awkward and unsure, like he was trying to blend into the wallpaper.

"Randal," [Y/N] said, her voice tight with irritation. "Where have you been?"

Randal blinked, clearly confused. "I’ve been with Sebastian," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Why?"

She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Because we were supposed to have our tea party! Remember? The one we have every week?"

"Oh!" Randal’s eyes lit up in recognition. "Right! Our tea party! I forgot!"

"Of course you did," [Y/N] groaned, fighting the urge to scream. "You know, for someone who’s supposed to be my creator, you really suck at remembering plans."

Randal frowned, a hint of guilt creeping onto his face. "I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to forget fufu~"

"Ugh," she sighed, her irritation softening just a bit as she looked at Randal’s crestfallen expression. "Just... let’s have our tea party now, okay? I need some snacks and a distraction from all this."

"Yes! Let’s go!" Randal said, brightening up immediately.

As they started walking towards the tea room, Randal practically skipped to his chair, plopping down with a bright grin. Sebastian, however, hung back, hovering near the door.

"Uh, is it okay if I...?" he started, his voice trailing off as he glanced between Randal and [Y/N].

"Of course, you’re invited, Sebastian!" Randal chirped, motioning for him to join.

Sebastian hesitated, taking a cautious step forward. "I don’t want to interrupt your... thing."

"You're already interrupting it," [Y/N] said, rolling her eyes. "Just sit down."

He slowly approached the table, and as he sat, he looked like he’d just been sentenced to death. "Uh, thanks?"

"You can pour the tea," Randal said, practically bouncing in his seat.

Sebastian looked like he was about to protest but caught [Y/N]’s pointed look and reluctantly picked up the teapot. As he poured, he managed to spill a bit on the tablecloth, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

"Smooth move, Sebastian," [Y/N] called, barely holding back her laughter.

"Uh, I’m sorry?? .I—" he stammered, only to be interrupted by Randal.

"Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it!" Randal said, waving his hands dramatically. "Just make sure to keep it on the table this time!"

Sebastian sighed, trying to regain his composure. "I was trying to—"

"Just be careful, okay?" [Y/N] interrupted, smirking. "Last thing we need is you drowning in tea."

"Yeah, that would be—" Sebastian started, but once again, Randal cut in.

"Time for the ceremony! Everyone stand up!" Randal declared, his eyes wide with excitement.

Sebastian looked around, clearly perplexed. "Wait, what ceremony?"

"You never mentioned that," he said, trying to make sense of the situation.

"You should’ve asked before coming," [Y/N] said, rolling her eyes, though she couldn’t help but laugh. "It involves Randal being extra and making everyone uncomfortable."

"Yes!" Randal declared, grinning like a fool. "Everyone stand up!"

Sebastian stood awkwardly, clearly unsure of what to do. "Um... am I supposed to do something?"

"You just stand there and look pretty," [Y/N] said, nudging him with a playful grin.

"That’s really not my strong suit," Sebastian muttered.

As Randal began his ridiculous "ceremony," pouring tea into the cups with exaggerated flourishes, [Y/N] couldn’t help but feel a warmth spreading through her. Despite the frustration earlier, watching Randal be his usual weird self made her heart lighten. Even Sebastian's awkwardness started to feel like a welcome change.

Wait. No don't feel that way. Randal is your sole purpose!

As the laughter flowed, Randal suddenly paused, looking serious. "And now, we all make a toast! To tea, friends, and not forgetting our traditions!"

"To tea!" [Y/N] echoed, raising her cup with a smile.

"To—wait, do we have to toast?" Sebastian asked, looking caught off guard.

Randal shot him a wide-eyed stare. "Of course! It’s part of the ceremony!"

Sebastian sighed but raised his cup anyway. "To... tea."

"And to me!" Randal added, grinning madly.

As they all took a sip, Sebastian attempted to interject. "I was thinking—"

But Randal cut him off again, waving his arms. "No time for thinking! We need more sugar!"

Sebastian’s mouth opened, clearly about to say something, but Randal continued. "You know, if you mix the sugar with the milk just right, it tastes like—"

"Randal, I really—" Sebastian tried again, but Randal was on a roll.

"And don’t forget the cookies! They must be chocolate chip, or else they’re just eugh!!"

"Randal can i-"

[Y/N] quickly interrupted Sebastian again.

"Sure I'll go get the cookies!" She giggled and skipped to the kitchen, feeling happy about the passive aggressive revenge she had gotten on Sebastian.

It was his fault for interfering anyway.

#ranfren x reader #nyen catman #nyen ranfren #nyon ranfren #fanfic #nyon and nyen #luther von ivory #randals friends #sebastian ranfren #randal ivory

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