#word count: 418

[lgcxhaeun]

audition dated: may 10th

haeun wasn’t ready for this audition. she doesn’t understand the reason why some of them (her) have to audition when they (her) clearly don’t match the profile of a musical actor (her). it seems like a waste of time. she knows she’s getting stuck with ensemble where she has to worry about blending her voice and not standing out.

she goes into the audition with a knot in her stomach and her nerves frayed. she doesn’t want to do this. it’s another one of those things of the training process that makes her incredibly uncomfortable. no one likes to try out for something they know they wouldn’t achieve. yet she still carries her feet to the audition room to show her what she had.

it was strange, really. despite being practically defeated going in, she still wants to try her best. even though she knows her best isn’t good enough, she was never one not to try. she’d talk down on herself the whole time but she’d at least do it. haeun was a fighter, if anything.

when she faces them to talk about her character, her mind goes blank. everything she’s prepared seems to fly out the window all at once. for a moment she hesitates, evident by her body language and stammering. after a moment of tense silence, haeun gathers her bearings. “i want my character to be like me: gentle. i think my character would be someone whose energy is calming and brings people at ease and their power reflects that: they’re able to make people agreeable and calm down.”

“i’m someone who leads with kindness because my mother always taught me that kindness heals. i want to be the healer of my group of friends. so i tend to shoulder their burdens with them. i want my character to reflect this characteristic because i think it’s noble.” ah, she forgot one more thing. how would the knight interact with the others? she thought about it for a moment before adding, “my knight would be the peacemaker of the other knights, the confidant. as someone both kind and incredibly reliable.”

haeun could only think that maybe, just maybe, they needed a sweet character to balance out the other stronger personalities. the sidekick that’s a sweetheart has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? but she doesn’t dare let herself hope. instead she bows, finalising her input on her knight. there was only waiting to see where she gets put, if at all, in the musical.

[codenamesazanka]

Spinaraki brainrot but is it accurate to say Spinner is for real the one person in the world to cry for Shigaraki? Handful of people left in the world that we can assume will mourn Shigaraki, but Spinner probably being the only one to cry for him.

[sunghoonnsupremacy]

OPEN UP. - perv!roomate sim jaeyun.

- warnings : pussy eating, cnc, multiple orgasms, jakes a perv, panty stealing and somnophilia

- word count : 418

- a/n : this was originally an ask but i accidentally deleted it so i hope the anon still sees it<3

- synopsis : jake didn't plan to catch feelings for somebody this year, especially not his hot roommate. but what can he do? its winter break and he just knows you haven't gotten laid for as long as you've been living there so being the gentleman that he is, he decides to help you out!

it's two am. you're laying on your bed with a dimly lit night, trying to fall asleep. it's been a long day for you. going to school amongst having to work a shift as a barista definitely isn't your thing, yet here you are. as you slip into a deep slumber, you don't hear the door creaking open slowly.

jake slips into your room wearing his sweats and a black tshirt with his hair messy. he seems to be admiring you, as he walks closer to you with his eyes glued to your shirt riding up, showing your panties. he curses quietly to himself before sitting on the bed next to your sleeping figure. jake brushes the hair out of your face and kisses your forehead.

sweet, right? 

not really.

his hand slips down your panties and he immediately groans at the heat that's radiating from your slightly wet pussy. you stir in your sleep, seemingly not waking up any time soon. he sits behind you and slowly takes off your panties. the visual hitting him better than expected.

 "fuck.." he spreads your legs open and leans in to lick at your pussy from the back, not before tucking your panties into his back pocket.

taking a long strip with his tongue, jake groans at your sweet taste. you start breathing heavier in your sleep and weakly attempt to close your legs.

jake clicks his tongue and harshly spreads them to slurp up at your pussy. his tongue maliciously licks around your clit as his fingers circle around your opening. by now you've waken up, which jake hasn't noticed hence he's in pussy heaven right now. you squirm around with widened eyes and soft pants continuously leaving your mouth.

"j-jake what are you doing?" a whimper leaves your mouth when he looks up and detaches his lips from you. he starts caressing the inside of your thighs softly, "couldn't resist it, sorry baby. just lean back and enjoy it" a strangled yelp leaves your mouth when he wraps his arms around your thighs, slamming his face onto your pussy and eating you out like never before.

your legs instinctively close around his head from the amount of pleasure. "open up, baby." he forces them open and holds them down so you can't do anything but let him do his thing.

as the night continues, you've already had three orgasms on his tongue, fingers and most importantly his dick. cuddling your shaking form close, jake wraps his arms around you and pecks your lips softly.

"sweet dreams, roomie."

[hopelesslydevoted2paige]

something angsty for paige where maybe yall are talking and then you see the live of her kissing azzi at the bar?? (make it gut wrenching pls)

CASUAL || PAIGE BUECKERS

summary — paige makes drunken mistakes and you figure out where you both stand

pairings: paige bueckers x fem cheerleader!reader

word count: 418

warnings: cursing, angst

authors note: hii thanks for this request! i dont really know the full context of that live moment so i didnt really wanna write it without that much knowledge but heres something similar! i kinda wanna make a part 2 just lmk if u guys want me too 🫶 ill stop talking now rah hope u enjoy!

part 2

It was around 2 am, everyone in the room feeling buzzed and tipsy.

After another victory from the women’s basketball team, they had decided to invite the UConn dance team to go out and celebrate with them for the night.

“Yo, guys! We should play a game.” KK sat up and leaned forward.

“What game?” You spoke up, making eye contact with Paige.

For the past few weeks, you guys have been getting to know each other and spending time with each other. Paige was so sweet to you. She got you gifts, took you out on dates and even introduced you to her family. You were starting to question things since none of you made it official.

“Truth or dare. But!-” KK stood up and poured a shot. “If you don’t wanna answer or do the dare, you gotta take a shot.”

Everyone started to sit up, listening intently.

“Alright, let’s start with you Paige!” KK rubbed her hands together. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.”

She scoffs. “Easy.”

Your grin widened as you realized she was walking to your direction, quickly dropping once she leaned in to kiss your teammate next to you.

“Ooh!” Everyone around you raised their eyebrows and laughed.

You felt like your heart dropped to your stomach. Did all of the gifts, kisses and the time you spent with each other mean nothing to her?

You cleared your throat. “I think im gonna head out. You guys have fun though.” You put on the best smile you could before grabbing your things and walking out.

“Get home safe!” Nika smiled warmly at you before glaring at Paige. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

Paige rolled her eyes. “What’d I do now?!”

Nika snatched the can from her hand. “You’re wasted. You’ve had too many shots and now you’re making stupid decisions.”

“Stop being such a killjoy Nika!”

“She’s done nothing but be there for you for the past 4 weeks!” She fumed. “You aren’t even going after her! Is she just nothing to you?!”

Paige stood up, rolling her eyes for what seemed like the tenth time tonight. “Whatever.”

She ran after you. “Y/N!”

You walked towards the taxi faster, wiping your tear-stained cheeks.

Paige jogged over to you, grabbing your arm. “Hey!”

You turned around, removing your arm from her hand. “What?”

“I’m sorry okay?” She slurred.

“Paige, I just don’t get it.” You sniffled. “You can’t treat me like im your girlfriend then go off kissing other girls!”

“Come on Y/N!” She groaned. “I thought we were just having fun! Playing around and being casual.”

You felt your chest tightening as she said those words. “Nice to know where we stand.”

“Wait Y/N-“

“Get home safe Paige. You’re wasted.”

[hidden-poet]

Animal

Synopsis: After visiting a bathhouse Logan meets you, and the animal within him starts clawing out.

Warnings: not canon, dark!, non-con, a little bit of romantisation of things that should not be romanticized, kidnapping, Dark!logan(jimmy? james?), dom/sub vibes, spanking, female reader who is described quite a bit, rough sex, graphic sex, basically born with little plot, unedited and written in a couple of hours, dead dove to not eat.

AN: Something awoken within me. I never really cared for Wolverine, but suddenly I am binging all the movies. I don't really understand them so this will definitely not make sense to those who follow the fandom.

Word count: 12, 418

Logan walks through the city. People part as he storms through the path. Hearing the sound of his heavy boots as they thud against the concrete. 

If his large frame wasn’t enough to warn off people, his scowl was. He didn’t even know what city he was in. Xavier sends him off to eliminate out of control mutants. Given the urgency, he is often sent without a goodbye, let alone a debrief. 

He knew he was somewhere foreign. All the signs were in a different language with the english translation printed small underneath. 

One of them read ‘bathhouse’ in bright red neon sign. He looks at the dirt caked under his nails. The final battle with the latest mutant took place in the forest. 

He could feel small leaves in his hair, and dried mud clinging to his body. 

A nice, hot, relaxing bath may elevate some of the tension he always carried with him, so he walks up the steps into the large stone building. 

A lady in a robe greets him. The place is dark, only lit by a few strategically placed lamps. The front counter is placed in the entryway to the baths, and is sectioned by a large maroon colored wall that offers the men bathing privacy. 

“How can I help you?” the woman asks.

“I’d like a bath”, he responds. His eyes go to view the bath that beckons him. 

“Communal or private?”.

Logan looks around at the men in towels, lounging by the large pool. An elderly man takes off his towel to reveal nothing underneath, and steps into the steaming water. 

“Private”, Logan answers, “please”.

She gives him a sly smile, asking him to follow her. 

He is brought along the pool where men swam nude, and women who wore thick robes served them drinks, and cigars. 

At the back of the communal bathing area there was a long stretch of red doors that were numbered in large golden letters. He follows her to door seven

The woman knocks on the door once before turning back to logan. 

“Just through this door when you are ready”. With a sly smile she looks him up and down before returning to her hosting station. 

“Ah-yeah, thanks”, he comments. 

Muttering under his breath, he twists the door knob and takes a step inside, wanting nothing more than to wash away his adventure. 

His hand clinches the door knob, his claws begging to come out upon hearing someone on the other side. 

Had someone been following him? Another mutant, buddies with the one he had killed?

He lunges through the door, ready to face anyone willing. It startles him when he sees a young girl. 

Your hair was blown out to give it volume, and styled in an effortlessly curled way. Your dress was short and black. The halter neck tied together behind your long neck, and was cut down to the middle of your chest. The thin material only reached your upper thigh. Your lipstick was a dark red, matching your pointed shoes. You looked ready for a club, not a bath. 

You push yourself back into a chest of draws, surprised at his entrance. 

“shit”, Logan turns from you, training his eyes to the ground. It felt wrong to look at you. “Sorry, i was told to come in here”. 

“You were told correctly”, you state, “I am ready for you”. 

Your voice was low and seductive, making Logan hard under his jeans.

“Ready for me?” Logan questions. He feels his brows furrow, the sweat that he had accumulated started to run down his forehead. 

“This is a bathhouse”,you state, “You got a private room. You get bathed in private rooms”. 

You seemed as confused as he was. 

He looks at you stunned. His cock ached in his jeans to think of you bathing him. But you were young. Young, pretty, and naive. What were you doing here, giving baths to dirty old men like him. He couldn’t have it. Couldn’t be a part of it. 

His other side begged him to have a bath, and enjoy your touch, but he didn’t want to do anything that he would regret. The animal side of him was hard to contain. He was sure you would pull the wrong string, and the restraint he had built would come undone. 

He couldn’t even bring himself to bid you goodbye. All his will power went to turning back to the door. 

“Wait” you call out. He freezes immediately, and looks over his shoulder at you. 

“Is there something wrong with me?” you ask. His heart sunk at your question. He didn’t mean to offend you. 

“Am I not desirable enough for you?”, you continue. 

“God, no” he states, shutting the door firmly behind him as he turns. He didn’t want anyone passing to see you through the door. “No, you’re anything but undesirable”.

You blush but remain in your seductive composure. Your hand waves him forward, and his feet shuffle to your command. 

“Well then stay. If they see you walk out, i’ll get in trouble. Men start walking out of my bathhouse, and they might turf me”, you state. 

“Look, baby, I am just looking for a bath,” you eye the water so he continues to explain, “a bath alone. Without the help of a young woman, no matter how they look”.

“You don’t seem the nervous kind”, you provoke. 

“I ain’t” he defends. 

“How about this, I won’t look”. You spin around and face the wall, covering your eyes with your hand. “You can take a bath without my help, and I won’t get fired. Win, win”. 

He thinks about it. With you facing away, and not touching him, what harm could be done? He would be doing you a favor. 

“You sure you can restrain yourself?” he flirts. 

Your giggle echoes off the wall to his ear. 

“I am sure”.

Logan strips, leaving his clothes on the tiled floor, and entering the marble tub centered in the room. The water is steaming, and works to unknot his mussels. 

He moans as he sinks into the water. 

“Feel good?”, you ask. 

His cock twitches at your words. He struggles to keep his voice even as he answers. 

“Yeah”. 

“I am y/n”, you comment, bringing your hand down to face the red wall. 

“Is that your real name?”, he asks. He shouldn’t care what your real name was, but he did. 

“Yeah”, you respond. He listens for your heart beat as you answer. It never falters so it was the truth, or a lie that had become the truth. Either way it was good enough for him. 

“Logan”, he gives. 

“In town for business or pleasure, Logan?”, you ask. 

Your butt was three inches from the bottom of your dress. It curved around the material. Logan wanted to jump up from the water, and bite into it. 

“Business” he answered absentmindedly. He forces himself to look away and up to the ceiling. 

Your heartbeat was even. You weren’t scared of him. It comforted him to know. 

“What do you do?”. The question irked him. 

“Nothing good”, he spat. 

You let out a breathy laugh as if he had told a bad joke.

“Men who do ‘nothing good’ aren’t afraid of young women in bathhouses”, you jest. 

“Well I suppose I do bad things for a good cause”, he admits. 

Although it never felt like a good cause. Only some of the mutants he killed deserved it. Most of them were only confused and scared. They were too dangerous to be allowed a second chance at reasoning. Like a wild dog, they had to be put down. 

It would have made Logan feel better if he didn’t enjoy the fight. 

“What bad things for a good cause?”. 

Logan slides further into the water, trying to shield himself from your questioning. 

‘Is this a bathhouse or a police station?” he bit. His voice was hard, and carried a commanding tone that made your heart skip. 

He wanted to apologize, but you beat him to it. 

“I am sorry. I am not used to talking to the clients. I overstepped”,  you confess. 

 “Have you worked here long?”. 

He wanted to turn the attention back on you, but he chose the wrong path. The last thing he wanted to hear was you admitting to washing men.

The image of you bathing other old men angered him. His claws dug through the bones in his hand, itching to come to the surface. 

“A year”. It seemed like you were content in your workplace, but Logan fights to keep his claws under his skin. He splashed his hands under the water, worried that you would turn and see him in his mutated state. 

You shuffle slightly, angling yourself so you were always turned to him. You move off the wall, back over to the door. Logan watches you, his body shifting to hide himself if you decide to look. His member was hard under the clear water. He didn’t want you to think he was some sort of pervert. 

“Hey”, he calls, watching you move to pick up his clothes. Your hand shielded your eyes to him in the tub, “What are you doing?”. 

You separate his room key, wallet from his jean pocket and place them next to his shoes before picking up his clothes, and turning your back once more. Moving to the far wall where a washer and dryer were stored under a sink. 

“It’s part of the service. I wash your clothes for you”, you state. 

“Just leave them” he commands, “they are fine”.

You ignore him, throwing the clothes in the machine, and starting the cycle. 

“You’re paying for it”. 

You crouch in your high heels as you dispense the detergent into the washing machine on the floor before rising back up, but you don’t turn. Talking to him through the shared space rather than at him. 

“Do you mind if I sit at the vanity?”, you ask him. 

“No. Sit where you are comfortable”.

Your eyes train at the walls of the room as you slide along to the vanity set in the corner. You stop just before you get to the mirror, and kick off your heels so you could drag the seat with your foot over to you. You sat facing the wall like a child on time-out. 

He notices without your shoes, you were quite small. A small, pretty thing in a house of old men who wouldn’t need to be twice your size to overpower you. It didn’t sit right with logan. 

“So, how did you end up here?” he asks. 

“What this, a bath house or a police station”, you joke. 

He stifles a laugh. He didn’t mind a bit of cheek. 

“Fair enough’’, he relents, “Just tell me if any of these old guys ever caused you any trouble?”. 

Just as he claws retreat, they shoot back again. If your answer was yes, he was going to find out who, and where after his bath. 

But you shake your head no. 

“We have a button that calls for help. As soon as I get a bad feeling I press the button and they are thrown out”. 

You were intuitive like him. He wondered if it was a survival technique you were forced to pick up. He wanted to know why, but knew it was none of his business. 

Instead, he picks up a cloth and runs the cooling water over his skin. He was right, mud stuck to his chest hairs, along with dried blood. 

“You, uh, press that button a lot?” he pries. 

“Enough times to know when I should”. Your voice had lost its seductive tone as it hardened. 

“Maybe you should quit. Do something else”, he suggests. 

He would love for you to do something else. Something outside of harm's way. You were a grown woman who could decide what she wanted. He had no right to tell you what to do, but he wanted you to listen to him.

“Only one of us hates their job”. 

“You like this?”, his voice came out too angry. Your heart skipped another beat as he raised his voice at you. 

“You like touching dirty old men? Help them get off?”, he bites his tongue to the point of blood to stop himself talking to you this way.  

“No one gets off. I bathe them and send them on their way. Most of them are just lonely”.

“Lonely”, Logan scoffs, pushing the water away from him. But you were right. Logan was lonely. A dirty, old, lonely man wanting to taste your young flesh. 

How many other dirty, old, lonely men wanted to do the same? How many times would you be able to get to the button to press for help before it was too late? 

He wanted to protect you. To have his place in protecting you. Something about you drew him in. The animal called for him to throw you over his shoulder, and take you from his place in all his stark naked glory. But you were no one to him. He had only met you by mistake five minutes ago. 

Your heart rate was too fast. He had succeeded in scaring you. If his clothes weren’t washing, he was sure you would have kicked him out. 

He sighs, bringing his hands to the side of the tub. 

“Darl, I am sorry. I just hate to think of a pretty young thing like you here without anyone looking out for you”.

“I look out for me, Logan”, you declare. 

He nods his head, almost in disbelief. He rests the back of his head against the hard marble, causing the water to swish as he moves. 

“There’s shampoo on the caddy. You should wash your hair. I noticed that some of it was stuck together”, you comment. 

He was thrown across the forest floor just last night. He must have taken a harder hit than he realized. 

“I can do it if you want?”, you offer. 

“No. No. You stay right there” he demands. His hands itched to pull you in the bathtub with him. He wanted you to stay as far away as possible. 

As he squirts the small bottle of shampoo into his hands, the washing machine rings out a tune to signal it was done. 

“I’ll throw your clothes in the dryer” you declare. 

He watches as you move again over to the machine, and kneel to transfer the clothes into the dryer.  

Your bare feet make a nice sound against the tiles. Logan notices that your little toes were painted a dark red, and your fingers were perfectly shaped and painted the same color. 

He supposed a woman of your profession, maintenance was important. He pretended for a second that wasn’t the case. That instead, you were his little woman. 

He had come home after a long day of lumberjacking like he used to do, and you were fussing over him. The thought remained only for a second before he shook it off. 

Everyone he loved died. A little thing like you didn’t stand a chance in his life. 

“I hope you like the scent of vanilla”, you remark. 

He grunts in response, dipping under the water to wash the shampoo out of his hair. It felt lighter as a rose from the water. It was due for a good wash. 

He begins with a conditioner while he watches you lean against the counter of the sink instead of returning to your seat. His fingers dug into his scalp, pushing the liquid into his hair. 

“Do you have a girlfriend? Is that why you don’t want me to look?”, you ask. 

“No girlfriend. No wife. No dog”, he washes the soap from his hands, “I honestly didn’t know what I was signing up for”.

“Are you glad you signed up for it?”, your seductive tone returned from its disappearance. 

“The view has been nice”, he returns. 

“If you like my back, you should my front”. 

His hands curled into fists. If anything had been in his hands, it would have been snapped in two. 

“If i see your front, you might not see the light of day again”. 

His eyes shut in rhythm with your heart skipping. 

“Fuck. no. I didn’t mean” he began to justify but had nowhere to go. He had meant what he said, the way he said it. 

“All this talk of protection from dirty, old men. Did you mean you?”.

Your voice didn’t sound scared, but your heart beat faster than it had all night. 

Logan rises from the tub with conditioner still weighing down his hair. 

“Look, how long until my clothes are ready?”.

“Ten minutes”, you answer.  

He couldn’t wait ten minutes. He had to leave now.

“Just give them to me”, he demands. 

“There's still ten minutes”, you complain. 

“Give them to me, now!” his voice rose at you once more. 

You jump as he yelled at you, quickly moving to pull the wet clothes from the machine and throw them backwards towards him. 

They don’t go far enough from you and Logan is forced to get too close for his liking to dress himself. 

He pulls his wet shirt on himself, the long sleeves stick to his skin as he yanks it on. 

“Keep facing forward. Don’t turn around”, he orders. 

“But” you begin. He can see you slow movement to turn around so he gently shoves you in the right direction. 

“Listen to me. Face the wall”. His voice was angry again, commanding you to stay still. 

The jeans didn’t want to go on wet. With his harsh, and quick movements it felt like he was in a fight. He does eventually get them on, only bothering to do up his button and not his zip. 

He doesn’t bother putting on his socks. Keeping them in his hand while he picks up his wallet, shoes, and keys from the floor. 

The jiggling of the keys gives way to his plan of escape. 

“You still have fifteen minutes”, you state not moving from your position on the wall.

He wondered why you cared that he was leaving early. Did you not want him to get away from you? Or where you wondered about his reaction if he found out he was cut short?

“It doesn’t matter”, he barks as he makes a quick bee line to the door. 

He pauses once he reaches it. The water pools at his feet as he turns to look at you once more. 

“I am sorry” he comments. 

He races back down towards the door he came in through. Everybody stares at his dripping state. Some men laugh quietly among themselves. He could still hear your elevated heart beat in room seven. 

“Hey! Hey!” a voice calls behind him. 

In his agitated state he was ready to rip their head off. He turns to do it to see the lady who greeted him. 

“You still pay full price”, she demands. 

“Huh? Yeah”. He steamrolled over her to the counter, pulling out his wallet. 

His focus turns to the hallway expecting you to appear, but from what he could see your door never opened. 

He taps his bank card without looking at the price. Xavier kept him comfortable for his work. 

He leaves without approval, bumping back into the crowd of people as he makes his way back on the path. 

Soaking wet, and barefoot, he makes his way back to his small apartment. 

His claws dig underneath his skin, wanting to come out despite there being no threat. He fails to make it to the bed, laying on the carpet floor instead. 

Your name repeats in his mind. 

—---------------------------

He tries to forget you for the next three days. He was supposed to be back by now, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. 

Xavier called him every hour to be sent straight to voicemail. 

Logan walked the city, often finding himself walking along the front of the bathhouse. He never goes in, but listens for your voice, and breathes deep to smell your faint scent.

You didn’t talk much to your clients. A few flirty comments when they first arrived, but then silence as you completed your work. 

You didn’t talk to them like you talked to him, and that had to mean something. 

The worst part was not knowing exactly what you were doing. He loved to hear the beeping of the machine as you pressed the buttons, because at least that meant you weren’t touching them. 

Even in his best efforts he couldn’t manage to walk away. He knows he should. There were plenty of other mutants that needed to be put down. 

He should continue with his life, and you yours. 

He couldn’t keep you. He could barely keep the kids at the mansion alive, and they all had powers to protect themselves. 

He would be throwing you in the line of fire. A fire that he might not be able to protect you from. 

You would grow old too. Unless he could figure out a way to keep you young. Could Xavier know of a way? He was sure that he could protect you from everything but time. He would need some help. A connection to someone who could slow down time in adjacent to him. 

He grunts as he drives his claw into his right thigh. He lets out a painful laugh as he pounds his fist into the brink building he was hiding behind. 

The brick crumbled under his fist. A reminder of what he could do to you without even intending it. He would only need to make a mistake once. 

He was worried about protecting you from others, when he should have been worried about protecting you from him. 

He was no good for you, even if you would be very good for him. He was destined to live out his life alone. A punishment for his ability. 

Maybe a goodbye would help him. If he could leave you with a nice impression instead of an old, dirty man, maybe he could leave. 

He crosses the sea of people to the steps of the building. He could hear you as you said goodbye to your client, and drained the water from the tub. 

He waits by the bottom of the step until the man came down and passed him before entering. 

Was this a place where you made appointments? How long would he have to wait to see you again? He wondered. 

It was a different lady at the counter which alleviated some of Logan's anxiety. 

She greets him in the same manner as the other lady. 

“I was after a private bath with y/n. Would she be available?”.

The woman looks at her computer before smiling up at him. 

“You’re in luck. She just finished up. Follow me”. 

Logan wished he dressed nicer. Put on some cologne, brushed his hair. 

Your scent became stronger the closer he got, it seemed to ease his nerves. 

The women knocks three times on the door, and Logan's hand goes to reach for the knob prematurely. 

“Just a second”, you call out. 

“She won’t be long”, the woman addresses Logan, who drops his hand away. 

With a nod and a smile the woman returns to her desk, and Logan waits by the door for you. He ran over what he was going to say, but when you swung the door open he had forgotten his opening line. 

“I never expected to see you again” you state. 

“Me either”, he responds.

To his surprise you step back from the door to allow him in. He quickly takes the invite, shutting the door behind him. 

You were dressed in another black dress. This one had thick straps and an appropriate neckline but an open back that scooped down as far as possible. 

“I wanted to apologize”, he expresses.

You tested the running water with your hand as you listened to him. 

“You are far from my worst customer”, you revel. 

You don’t look at him as you add bubbles to the bath. 

“Still, what I said” Logan pauses under your stare before continuing, “What i did was uncalled for”. 

You smile a pretty smile at him almost as if you were laughing at him. 

“Well, you’re forgiven. Now did you want me to face the wall again?”, you ask. 

Logan twists on his spot. “I ain’t looking for a bath. Just to apologize”. 

“Have one” you insist. 

You walk over to him, taking his belt into your hands. He catches your wrist to stop you from taking it off. 

“You got me in trouble last time”, you tell him, “You’re not supposed to walk out scared and wet. If you walk out now in less than a minute they’ll wonder what I did”.

“Well I owe you two apologies”, he states.

“If you're looking to apologize, get in the tub”.

He feels you pull out of his hold, and he lets you make distance so you could spin around. 

His self-restraint wasn’t that strong so he rids himself of his clothes and hides under the bubbles in the tub. 

Hearing the water splash, you turn to him. 

With the weight of his adamantium bones the water rises to the top and you quickly go to turn off the tap. 

You kick off your shoes, leaving them at the faucet and walk back up to the top of the tub. 

“I can’t see anything”, you console as you kneel down beside him. 

He reaches his hand out to take your chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

“You’re a world of hurt for me, bub”.

“Your world only lasts fifty minutes”, you tease. 

You move out of his touch to go behind him. Your small fingers squeeze his big shoulders. He relaxes under your touch as you work your way along his shoulders to his neck and back. 

“Feels good, bub” he praises. 

“Feels good?” you repeat.

Your hands trail down his chest, reaching for the top of the water. His hands catch yours before they could immerse under. 

“Don’t” he warns. 

“Okay. I am sorry” you apologize, tugging your hands free and back up to his neck, “I’ll stay above water”.

He found it hard to relax again. He felt vulnerable, naked under your touch. It would be better if you too were naked. It would make it less embarrassing when you realized he was hard under the water.

“I’ll put your clothes in the wash” you say. 

He reaches out behind him for you to stop you moving away.

“No. Keep going”, he protests. 

You don’t go to move again. Your fingers continue to massage him until he relaxes once more. 

Only then do you stop to reach for the shampoo bottle in front of him. You squirt it into your hands, and then massage it into his head. 

He falls back against the tub, loving the feeling of your hands twisting in his hair. 

You do it for longer than necessary seeing that he liked it.

Your fingers roll in a circle on the side of his head, causing him to groan at the feeling. 

His claws push up, moving the bones of his hands. It was painful every time but Logan had gotten used to the feeling. He flexes his fingers in an attempt to dissuade them from coming through. 

You must have noticed the grimace on his face as he forces the metal back into his hand because you stop massaging and reach for the cup to rinse his hair. 

You’re careful not to get it into his eyes, smoothing back the hair as the water and soap runs off. He could see why men pay for this. 

He takes your hand not holding the cup and forces it against his cheek as he lays back. With his eyes closed he breathes softly against your skin. 

“Are you okay?” you ask him. 

“I am worried I’ll never be okay again”, he admits. 

“You’re tough. I can see it” you flip your hand so your palm is pressed against his cheek, “You’ll be okay”. 

You drop the cup next to him, and reach for the conditioner. He is grateful that you allow him to rest against your hand as you massage it into his head. 

You try your best to get his whole head but his position made it difficult. 

"You know you don’t have a scar over you”, you mention. 

“Soft living’”, he jokes, although it was only funny to him. 

As you leave the conditioner to soak, you pick up a clean rag and begin to scrub his skin. 

Disappointment fills him when he feels you trying to release your hand from under him. He could have kept it stuck there but chooses to raise his head. 

You lift up his arm and scrub under his armpit, and along his side. Carefully not to scrub any skin under the water. 

You move onto the next and he laughs at you. 

“The full treatment here”. 

You smile back as you continue to work. 

“$300 should get you the full treatment”, you utter. 

“$300? Christ, that’s a year's worth of cigars”, he remarks. 

“You smoke?” you ask him. He feels your hands push him forward so he leans for you to wash his back. 

“Like a chimney” he honestly admits, “You get $300 an hour?”. 

You were done with his back so he leans against the tub again. 

“No” you state as you reach for the cup that had sunken under the water. You stop yourself before your hand goes under. “Would you mind passing me the cup?”. 

“Oh yeah”, he remarks, reaching down into the water and bringing up your cup. 

You take it from him and begin to rinse his hair. 

“No, I make $150 an hour. The house makes half”.

“Still pretty good. Maybe I am in the wrong line of business”, Logan quips playfully. 

“Maybe you are” you jest back, “You never did tell me what you did”.

“I told you. Bad things”, he pulls up out of your hold. He didn’t want to tell you what he did. What he was. 

“Are you always this tense?” you ask him. 

“Yes” was the short, curt reply. 

With a final squeeze of your fingers against his neck, you move down to the bottom of the bath. Slowly you reach for his soapy feet that were propped up against the end of the tub. When he doesn’t object, you take it as permission and begin to massage his feet.

His head makes a heavy thud as it falls back into the marble. It had been a long time since he had ever felt this good.

When he hears you begin to speak, he lifts his head back up to have eye contact with you.

“What made you come back?”, you question. 

He feels you apply more pressure to his foot as you ask. Something about the question made you nervous. 

“You”, he answers honestly, “i didn’t want you to think I was a prick”. 

Your lips curve into a smile at him, and Logan feels his heart twist. 

“I didn’t think you were a prick”, you say. 

“You’d be the first”, he huffs.  

Relief floods him. He wanted to ask if you thought he was a dirty, old man but he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer. 

No more conversation interrupts the peace. Logan allows himself to relax into the water while you dig your fingers into his flesh. He lets out soft groans to let you know that he appreciated what you were doing. 

All too soon, your strong fingers stop pushing into the soft flesh of his foot. His head shoots back up automatically out of his relaxed composure. 

His wet hair sticks to his forehead, and the steam from the bath had begun to sweat his skin. He looked like a wild animal, while you looked put together as always. 

With your make-up perfectly placed and not a hair out of place. He would love to see you disheveled. A whining mess underneath him as he teased another orgasim from you. But tonight would be the last night he would ever see you. 

You would go on, find a nice man to marry and have children to. Die of old age when your time comes. 

Logan would go his separate way. Keep living well past what he desired. With no purpose, and dying friends. 

You rise from your knees, and he watches you as you retrieve a towel from a warming rack and bring it back over. 

With your body half turned to him, you hold out his towel. 

“Get out and I’ll dry your hair”, you offer. 

He takes the towel, and you walk over to your vanity as he rises from the water and wraps the towel around his waist. 

He follows you, taking a seat when you tell him to. 

You look at him in the mirror as you plug your hairdryer in. Once you began to maneuver the device around his head, your eyes followed but his remained staring at you in the mirror. 

Sitting directly in front of you, he could see the actual size difference. You were half of him if that. 

You said you looked out for you, but how would that be possible? You weren’t anything special. Were you a mutant too? Or just a naive little girl who had never faced any real danger. 

Maybe it would be best if he were to take you. Danger lurks everywhere. He could take you home. Make sure nothing bad ever happened to you. 

The bones in his knuckles separated and the metal began to break skin but as the sound of the hairdryer cut, his claws retracted back in. 

He couldn’t take you. He was old enough to be your great grandfather. What had happened to him that he was thinking these thoughts? Has loneliness finally caught up with him after a century of being alive?

Your fingers snake up through his hair again, itching his scalp and the thoughts of taking you returned. 

“There, all dry” you state. 

The sound of a timer goes off, startling Logan who was expecting something wrong from the sudden noise. 

“That’s our five minute warning” you tell him. 

The forty-five minutes went too quickly. He would never see you again, or at least he had promised himself he would never see you again. 

You gather his clothes for him and throw them over a blind. 

“You can get dressed behind that”.

He nods his head. Moving quickly to cover himself again. 

These thoughts were relentless telling him not to go. She couldn’t stop you from staying, no one could. His conscience told him. But he needed to leave your presence before he did something he couldn’t just apologize for. 

Maybe some distance would help. He had been away from home too long. He just needed to return home and live comfortably for a while. Focus on the kids at school. 

He makes sure his jeans were properly done up, and that his shirt and jacket were the right way before returning from behind the blind. 

You were by the vanity chair, back on your knees with his shoes next to you. 

You smile at him and pat the chair. Telling him without words to come to you. 

He follows your request sitting down in front of you. You came up to his thigh in height. 

“I can do it” he states. 

“Full service” you reply. 

He feels the wood of the chair cracking under his hands so he moves it to the top of his thigh in a tight ball. 

You’re gentle as you place the socks on his feet, followed by his shoes. You even do up the laces for him despite the end timer going off two minutes prior. 

You rise from the floor, taking his hand to lead him to the door. 

“Will I see you again?” you ask him. 

“No” he promises but taking another look at you, he wonders if he can follow through. 

“Well, goodbye then, Logan”, you gently say. 

“Goodbye, y/n” he returns. 

He tears himself away from your door, walking the same quick pace back to the front counter where he throws his card on the desk and pushes his way back into the busy street. 

His instinct told him to go back, he had to fight against it the whole way home. 

—--------------------

He thought distance was the answer, but his heart ached to go get you. No amount of alcohol or pills satisfied it. 

Everyone knew something was wrong. He got sick of everyone asking him what happened on his trip. If he was okay. If he wanted to talk. 

He had gotten more aggressive than usual. Things that he could normally brush off, now end with someone pinned against the wall by their throat. 

Xavier tried his best to get into Logan's head but his resolve would not soften. No one would understand how he felt. No one would justify the measures he was willing to go. 

He booked a flight only a month later. Every day was spent thinking of you until he broke. He was a hero. Saved people daily. What was one life if it meant he was able to save countless others.

He books a room, the closest and cheapest to the bathhouse. He could smell you from here now that he had locked onto your scent. 

The old bed creaked under his weight as he struggled with himself. With his head in his hands, he grumbled to himself. 

He shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be thinking these things to himself. It wasn’t too late to turn around. Nothing had been done that couldn’t be undone. 

But then he heard it. Your sweet voice welcoming a man into your door. His feet took off before he could stop them. It was only a short distance of a block to the bathhouse. 

The street was busy no matter the time of day, but much like when he first walked down it people parted to let him through. 

When he grips the door knob it shatters underneath his hand. So he is more gentle when he pushes the door open. 

A new woman greets him cautiously but he ignores her going straight to your room. The woman yells at him as he walks. One brave man tried to stop him and ended up thrown half a meter into the pool. 

No one bothers him after that. He could hear the water move as you washed the man. 

Knowing he will break the door knob, he instead pushes the door open, snapping the lock. 

You gasp hearing the impact, and look at him startled. The position was compromising. You were sitting back on your heels scrubbing the man's back wearing the same halter neck slut dress that you wore when he first met you. 

“Logan?” you question, “What are you doing?”. 

The man rises from the tub, unashamed by his naked state. 

“Get out”, Logan growls. 

“Listen buddy, I paid the full-” the man stops his sentence when the claws emerge from logans hands. 

You shrink back to the floor, using your hand to keep you upright. 

“Get out”, he repeats. 

This time the man scrambles to the door, running past Logan without his clothes. 

You try to follow suit but Logan's long claws block you from your exit. 

You stare at the shiny metal, your face reflecting back at you. 

“You’re coming with me”, Logan states, putting away his claws so he could take you by the arm. 

“Let go of me” you beg, trying to pull your arm from his grip. 

He leads you to the chaos of the bathhouse. Word had spread that a mutant had entered the building and now people ran for cover. 

“Let go. No!”, you scream.

 You pull your arm too harshly in his hold, he could hear the muscles in your arm straining under the pressure. He loosens his grip so not to hurt you, but brings you closer to his chest.  

“Stop it, kid” he demands, “You’re going to hurt yourself”. 

“Stop, logan. Please, just let me go”. Your heart was fast, and your eyes dripped with tears. 

He reaches up to touch your face but a gunshot pierces his body before it lands. An annoyed groan rubbles from his throat, and he pushes you away from the line of fire. 

Another bullet lands in his chest when he turns to see a man in a robe holding a shaking gun. 

He dodges the next shot, stalking forward to the frozen man, he grabs the gun out of his weak hold and sends him to the floor with a headbutt. 

Tossing the gun aside, he turns to see you no longer in your spot. You couldn’t have made it to the door in that short of time, and your scent was still strong in the room. 

He follows it behind the bar to where he saw you squeezed into a tight corner. 

“Hey, bub” he tries his best to use a soft voice, “we gotta go. Come on”. 

He reaches for you, but you push his hands away. 

“Come on” he says more forcefully. He reaches for your waist and not your arm to avoid hurting you. 

You thrash against him, begging him to let you go. 

He allows it until you reach the front door then he extracts a single claw from his hand that crossed your stomach. 

“Walk” he demands. 

He manoovers himself so he was behind you with a hand on your stomach and his claw pressed into your side. 

You allow him to walk you down the steps and through the crowd, back to his apartment. You were too scared to say anything. Some people gave you a strange look as you passed them crying but no one stopped to help. 

“You’re alright. I ain't going to hurt you”, he promises. 

He would never hurt you. As soon as you had managed to make your way through the crowd, Logan retracts his claw completely, instead placing both his strong hands on your hips to keep you moving forward. 

“Almost there. Atta girl, just keep moving”. He encourages. 

The dim lights of his hotel came into view. The vacancy sign buzzed allowing small flashes of light in an otherwise dark street. 

He could see fine given his heightened ability, but knew that your lack of senses must be adding to your anxiety. 

“Alright, this way”, he takes your wrist into his hand, trusting that you would follow him up the metal stairs. 

Your heel snagged on the step. Without Logan's hold you would have been sent flying forward. 

“Sorry” you gasp, trying to let him know that it was an honest stumble and not a deliberate act on your part. 

“Are you hurt?”, he steps down to your level, throwing your arm over his shoulder while he bends down to take off your shoes, “Let's take these off”.

He holds them in his hand, and your waist in the other and continues to lead you up. 

“Come on, we are almost there. Just down the end”. 

You reach the top of the stairs and he leads you to the end of the corridor. Stopping at the door that peeled with paint while he digs in his pockets for his key. 

He opens the door, quickly pushing you inside and shutting it again. 

“Here sit” he suggests. 

With his hands off you, he turns on the bedside lamp so you could see.

You do take a seat on the bed, and Logan stands in front of you. 

“You’re a mutant?” you finally say. 

“Yeah” he admits with a hard tone. 

“Are you going to kill me?”, you whisper. 

“Christ, no”, he kneels down in front of you so he could be in your eyesight, his hands caged around your legs on the mattress. 

“Y/n, I am one of the good guys”, his own words froze him. His eyes cast down to where your dress has risen dangerously high up your thigh. His finger traces up from your knee to your dress hemline. 

“Not that you are going to believe that after I am done with you” he says more to himself than you. 

“What are you going to do?”, you quake. 

He rises himself enough to place a gentle kiss on your lips. 

“Whatever I want”,  he whispers against your lips. 

He pushes you as gently as he can into the mattress. Using his body weight to cement your place under him. 

“Get off”, you complain the second his lips are off you. 

“I can’t” Logan protests. His lips go to your neck, biting down harshly. He intended to leave a mark. A claim of sorts for the world to see. 

He may have bitten down too harshly, as you push against his face with your hands. 

He can hear your heartbeat as it thumps in your chest. It stills him in the crook of your neck. 

He didn’t want to scare you. 

“I am sorry”, he admits softly into your skin. 

He places a soft kiss on the sore he had just created, and reaches to untie the knot of fabric around your neck. 

Your hand reaches up to catch the fabric as it falls, holding it over your breasts. 

He moves on, hooking his fingers around the elastic of your underwear, and pulling them off onto the floor. 

“It’s alright, just breathe”, he concludes. 

You keep your eyes shut, and your breaths manic. 

In an effort to make you more comfortable, he lifts you up by your armpits and places you in the center of the bed. He changes positions to match yours, straddling you on the bed while he moves the pillows under your head, and by your sides. 

You lay there frozen with your eyes squeezed shut, while he removes his clothes on top of you. 

You feel his attention return when his lips press down on yours, his hand gently on the side of your face. 

“Open your eyes, and look at me”, he commands in a low whisper. 

You are met with his face, and bare shoulders peering over you. 

“There she is”, he grins a beautiful smile as he brushes his thumb along your cheek. 

His lips go to yours again before trailing down to your neck, and chest. 

His hands met your on the fabric of your chest, and he tugs it down, bunching the dress around your hips. 

A kiss is placed at the top of your breast activating your fight. 

You tried to push against him but he was too heavy to even shift. 

“Easy” he tells you, “take it easy. It’s alright”.

He comes back up to your face, and begins to stroke your face with his finger again. 

“Settle down”, he breathes. 

“Logan, please just let me go”, you beg. 

“I tried to,” he admits, “but I've never been much of a quiter”. 

He kneads the flesh of your breast in his hand, and grows darker at the thought of not completing what he wanted to do. 

“Now you’re going to relax and let me take care of you, or I'll tie you to the bed”. 

You don’t move again as Logan trails down your body to slide the bunched fabric of your dress down. 

He nestles between your thighs next, keeping a strong grip as he inserts himself into you. 

He groans as you accept him. Despite your protests you were warm, and wet for him.  

He places his hands on stomach feeling the skin that had been hidden from him for so long. 

“Please keep your hands away from me”, you shudder. You curl into yourself as much as you could, scared that the blades would come out and pierce into you.

He takes his hand off your stomach, per your request. 

In an act to show you he had no intention of hurting you, he releases his claws, and drives them into the mattress either side of you. He feels as they push through the fabric to the bed frame. 

 “I would never hurt you” he promises.

He keeps his weight on his hands as he thrusts into you. Your hand remained on your chest until they sprang out to his shoulder in an attempt to control the pace. 

He slows down until he is at a pace where you no longer push on his shoulder. 

As he continues you find yourself building, so you turn away and bury your head into your pillow. 

You hear as his claw is pulled from the mattress, and feel his tight grip as it latches around your chin. He pulls your face back to his direction, resting his forehead on top of yours. 

You feel his quick breaths on your skin, and breathe them in. 

His eyes were closed, but one hand now held your face in place, and the other held your hip down. 

You gasp when you feel yourself cuming around him.  A low growl makes its way to your ear but you were more focused on Logan fucking you through your orgasm. 

Your nails become claws when he doesn’t stop. You make weak sounds, but no words as he thrusts into you. 

“You can take it” he says, somehow knowing what you were trying to say. 

His hold on your chin becomes hurtful as he reaches his end. You yank at his fingers trying to pry them off but your fingers slip from the force you were trying to use and makes no difference to him. 

A loud moan tells you he was done before you felt the warm substance drip from you. 

With a smaller, satisfied groan he opens his eyes to look at you. The same smile appears on his face preceding a deep kiss to your lips. 

He doesn’t remove himself from you but loosens his hand on your chin, and hip. 

You feel his body weight as he rests his head back on your forehead. He was conscious to keep his weight off you, yet the skin he pressed against yours, pinned you to the mattress.

“You alright, princess?” he pants. 

You don’t answer him, and he kisses you in your silence. 

 By the third time you are fucked dumb. You have a glazed look in your eye, and your body is weak against his. He uses you like a toy. Kissing you, and fucking you while you lay there with little energy left. 

His stamina and quick recovery times meant that once was never enough to satisfy him. You would lay quietly next to him for only a few minutes before he was ready to go again. 

You whine as he approaches you again, not ready for yet another round.

He lays on top of you, gently caging your head between his arms as he whispers “I know, I know”. 

He did know. When you began to cry from overstimulation, he felt terrible but couldn’t bring himself to stop. He wasn’t anywhere near his peak, and your pussy clenched so nicely around him.

“Don’t cry”, he begs, “sh, don’t cry”. 

You wouldn’t listen. He wasn’t sure if you could even hear him in your state, but he continued to talk anyway. 

“Sh, its alright. Feel good there?”, he asks as your hips buck against him. 

“Feels good there, hey baby”, he targets the spot that makes your hips buck, and you latch on to his strong shoulders with your nails. 

“Pretty girl like you should always feel good. Can I be the one to always make you feel good?”.

No more fresh tears sprang from your eyes, but the path was still wet, and a large tear balanced on the outer corner of your eye. 

He moves his hands closer, using his thumbs to brush off the water. 

“No more crying, hey bub”.

You turn your head away from him, resting your forehead on his bicep. He turns his attention to applying the right amount of force between your legs. 

He gives you a bigger rest time between the next one. Despite, him roaring to go again. 

You lay pressed against his side, half-asleep. He slung his arm over the top of your pillow, waiting for you to recover. 

Your lipstick was worn off from his ferocious kissing, and your hair had come undone around you. 

You open your eyes to look up at him, and he takes it as a sign that he could continue. 

He takes your chin into his hand to keep it still as he slides down in the bed next to you. 

“No. That’s enough”, you demand, trying to wiggle your head from his hold. 

“Just one more” he promises, “I just need one more”. 

He kisses you as he hooks your leg over his hip. Reaching back to guide himself into your swollen pussy. You fit together like a jigsaw piece, another reason why all of this was meant to be. 

He liked the intimacy of the position, pushing against your lower back to force you closer. He holds his hand there as he thrusts into you, keeping you from wiggling away. 

You rest your head on his chest, and arm over his neck taking what he gives you. 

His pace is gentler than it had been all night. Slow, controlled thrusts that rocked your body rather than shook it. 

His arm under your head kept you level with the large man, but also meant that every moan, and whimper went straight into his ear. 

It was encouraging for him to hear you reluctantly enjoying yourself.  He only wanted to bring you pleasure never pain. 

You groan softly as you cum again, and it triggers his own orgasm. 

When he was done with you for the final time, you collapse into the mattress without Logan's body scaffolding yours. 

He brushes the hair that had fallen over your face away with his large palm, and lays flat on the bed. 

“Come here” he requested, opening his arms for you. 

With eyes closed you shuffle to his chest where he pulls you just over his heart. You fall asleep almost instantly, but Logan remains awake gently stroking your hair. 

He had been called an animal all his life, but tonight was the only time he truly felt like it. 

—-------------------

You woke the next morning to the sound of his voice, 

“Hey bub, hey, come on, we have to get going”. 

You feel him smooth his palm over the side of your face, and you knock it away. It felt like knocking your hand against an immovable metal pole. 

Last night ruined you. You weren’t sure you could rise from the bed if you wanted to. 

“I am not going anywhere with you”, you state. 

He had taken what he wanted. The deal now was to leave you in peace. 

The next sound of his claws unsheathing and digging themselves into the mattress next to you made your eyes sprung open in shock. 

“Get up, now”, he demands. He was eager to get home and get you settled in. 

Xavier would get involved if Logan was absent for too long. A week here and there was nothing unusual but Xavier knew Logan too well to ignore any strange behavior. 

He passes you your dress as you rise, and you quickly place it on, looking for your panties next. Watching you put them back on made Logan want to take them back off but the plane was departing soon. 

The short, black dress was definitely more night time appropriate. You stand trying to cover your chest with your folded arms. 

He takes off his jacket, passing it to you as he speaks. 

“How far is your place from the bathhouse?” he asks. 

“Not far, a block”, you answer. You take the jacket off him and zip it up over your dress. 

It smelt of him, and his cigars. 

“Come on”. He says, taking your arm and tugging you behind him as he left the apartment. 

“I can get there myself”, you fought. 

“Kid, we haven’t got time”. He moves his grip to a harsher one on your upper arm, and half carries you in the direction he wanted you to go in.

Your heels click behind him down the steps. He detours to drop his room key back to reception before continuing on the path back to your work.

He is silent as he backtracks to the bathhouse. The street is much busier during the day. People stare as you pass them looking. 

When the Bathhouse comes into clearing he can feel you pull against him trying to get him to stop. 

He halts of his own accord, peering down at you in the middle of a busy street.

“I need to get my keys and phone from work”.

“I can get through the door. Don’t worry about that”, he shakes you slightly, getting impatient with the lack of direction,  “Which way?”

You point to the left, and take the led back to your house.

The streets thin as you weave your way out of the center of the city, and into the residential block. Everything was old and run down. 

Broken, smashed cars lined the streets, graffiti was sprayed on every covering, people kept to themselves not even looking out the window as you passed. 

He follows you until you stop at a run down apartment block. 

“This is it”, you state. 

“Upstairs”, he orders but you don’t move. 

“Let me go or I'll scream”, you threaten. 

“And I’ll kill anyone that comes. Upstairs”.

 You were yet to learn that Logan had reservations about killing needlessly, especially non-mutants, so you admit defeat and wander down three apartment blocks to your actual home.

The bar was low, but your apartment block was the nicest in the street. No graffiti or broken windows. A nice, clean brick that reached three stories and opened to a nice fourier. 

There was no elevator but there was only one flight of stairs up to your apartment. 

You show him your door labeled 2A, telling him there was no way to get it open unless he took you back to the bathhouse. 

He ignores you, placing his hand on the knob and giving it a gentle push that breaks the lock. 

Your heart rate picks up faster, which worries Logan as it was already quite high. 

He lets go of your arm to allow you to go in first, and shuts the door behind him. 

It was a one bedroom apartment, with a small open kitchen that opened to a small space that had to be chosen to be a living room or a dining area. 

You had chosen a living room with a green couch sat in front of a small rectangular table. 

“You can take what you want. I have some jewelry in the food cupboard”, you state. 

“This isn’t a hold-up”, he grumbles, “Come here”.

He goes to your bedroom, listening to your feet following him. 

He goes to your closet to see your luggage bag stored up top. He takes it down, and begins throwing items into it. 

‘What are you doing?”, you begin to panic seeing him stuff your suitcase with your clothes. 

“Do you have a passport?”

“Why?”

The plane was departing within the hour. He had no time to answer obvious questions. 

“Do you have one?”. He reiterates. 

“No”. Your heart skips a beat as you lie. 

“Go get it”, he demands. 

“I don’t want to”, your voice was quiet and strained. 

He knew he should have taken a softer approach. To be uprooted overnight would be a hard thing for anybody.

Yet still, his claws dig through at your resistance. 

“Go get it”, he said in a lower tone. 

His blades work to persuade you, and you move quickly to your bedside table to retrieve it. 

He zips up your suitcase, holding out his hand for your passport. You pass it to him, taking a step back once it's in his hand. 

Checking it’s valid, he puts it in his back pocket alone with his. 

“Logan, I can keep a secret” you say, “I would never tell anyone about you”. 

“That’s nice, bub. Go change”, he nods to the wardrobe behind him which you take a pair of jeans, and a singlet from. 

You were too quick to the bathroom, so he stops you before you enter. 

“Ah” he tuts. 

He takes a look inside first to check for windows. There was only a small one with a security screen so he allowed you to pass and shut the door on him. 

After a frustrating phone call in which he was misunderstood twice, he manages to order a taxi to the airport, and knocks on the door to let you know it was on its way. 

You open the door a different person. Your makeup was all wiped off, and your hair was pulled back into a ponytail. 

The confident seductive was replaced with this fragile girl-next-door type. He didn’t think it was possible to love you anymore. 

You hand out his jacket to him which he takes but opens it to wrap around your shoulders. 

“Keep it. It looks good on you”.

“Logan-” you begin but he cuts you off. 

“Sh” he dismisses taking your head into his hands, “it’s alright. I know”. 

“But-” you try. 

He sh’s you again, “Don’t think. Just come with me”, he begs. 

Moving his hands from your head to your wrist he takes you back outside the bathroom to where your bag lay waiting by the door. 

You don’t know why but you follow his direction to put your sandals on your feet, and follow him down to the street and into a taxi. 

Your head reels as the car drives. The taxi is silent, only the sound from the radio plays. Logan holds onto your thigh while he looks out of the window. 

You stare at his hands, wondering where the blades went when they were retracted. 

You think about telling the driver but one man was no match for Logan. 

The man pulls into the drop off station, and gets out to get your luggage. 

Logan turns to you in the car, demanding your attention from his eyes alone. 

“Are you going to save us both some time and be a good girl, or do we need to go over what will happen if you draw attention?”. 

You shake your head ‘no’. 

“Good girl, let’s go”. 

Logan goes out the same door you do, instantly taking your hand in his in the busy station. 

He pays the man, and takes your suitcase for you. 

“Where are we going?”, you request. 

Logan joins the back of the line for check-in’s

“New York”, he gives. 

“What's in New york?” you ask him. 

“Home”.  

You flex your hands in his, trying to get it free.

“I am going home with you?”, you implore. 

He nods, not looking at you.

“You said you were one of the good guys”, you remind him. 

“I told you, I am a good guy that does bad things”. 

His fingers clench around yours in a painful hold. Your eyes fill up with fresh tears. You knew Logan wouldn’t hurt you, but he was a stranger, a mutant, who had taken you from your home, and planned to place you in his. 

“Don’t cry. Not here”, he demands. 

He moves his body to shield you from prying eyes, as you try your best to conceal your panic. 

A gentle hand rubs your back as you move up in line. 

The girl at the counter notices your red eyes, and asks if you are okay.

“She’s a nervous flyer” he lies. 

The woman ignores him, asking you the question again. 

The hand you held had blades that came out on command so you nod your head in agreement. 

“I’ll be fine once we are up in the air” you say. 

The woman hands Logan the tickets, and you make your way over to the security screening. 

Logan seemed amazed you had lied for him. 

He kisses your head, thanking you for not causing a scene. 

He lets you go easy when you reach the security point, letting you walk through the metal detector. 

You eye the security and their guns, but you watched Logan get shot at point blank. Would their guns even dint him?

The metal detector beeps when Logan walks through. For a second, you think that you will find out if their guns work on him when a security officer closes in. 

“Easy there, big guy”, Logan takes a slip of paper out of his pocket to show the man, “I have a metal hip”. 

The man takes the pass over to his supervisor.  You wonder if they know something is wrong as they talk, but the manger looks relaxed, and with a wave of his hand the pass is given back to Logan, and you get the go ahead. 

Logan slings his arm over your shoulder past the security who don’t take a second glance.

“You have metal in your hands?” you whisper the question to him. 

“I have adamantium in my entire body” he explains, “It’s a type of metal”. 

You feel amazed at the news. A whole body of metal reinforcing him to be the most dangerous man you had ever met. 

The most dangerous man you had ever met took you over to a cafe stand. Buying you, and himself a roll and coffee. 

You never would have guessed the man you met at the bathhouse harbored such a secret. How many other clients were mutants too, or was he the only one. 

“It’s gettin’ cold”, he says noticing you staring at him. 

You accept his gift, starving after last night. 

The rest of the time until boarding was silent. Only then did the sense of dread kick back in. 

“Please”, you beg. 

“I am sorry. Get on the plane”. His voice was soft, but you could hear no sound of true sympathy from it. 

He keeps you in front of him as the attendant checks the tickets, and you find your seats. 

You were the only two on your row, right at the back of the plane. 

Logan settles into the seat beside you, doing up his seatbelt, and checking yours. 

The cabin crew begin their safety speech. Your eyes were trained out the window, not looking at them. You hoped the plane crashed. 

When the plane began moving at a fast pace, Logan checked your seatbelt again, pulling on it to make sure it was tight across your lap. 

You look at him. He was tense again, and shut his eyes when the plane took off. 

When it stabilized he let out a breath of air, and opened his eyes, falling back into his seat. 

“Afraid of flying?” you ask surprised. 

“If god wanted us to fly, we’d have wings”, he quips. 

“And if god wanted us to have blades in our hands, we would”. 

Logan's hands ball into fists. He was a freak in your eyes.

“One day I’ll explain what happened to me”, he promises. 

“What else can you do? You’re strong, hard, body full of metal”, you start, “and that man. He shot you”. 

“Baby, I can do alot of things”, he dismisses. 

“Like what?” you push. 

“Maybe now is not the time to be discussing this”. He says looking around at other passengers. Most of whom already had their earphones on. 

“What do you want with me?”, you implore. 

“Now’s really not the time to be discussing that” He grits.

“One of the good guys” you remind him. 

“I'll settle for being an okay guy. Stop talking” he growls. 

You turn back to the window away from him the rest of the flight. 

You watch as the clouds below you turn orange, and then black. Logan passes you a food tray from the stewardess and you eat it in silence. 

It must have looked odd to the stewardess. Neither you or Logan played with the screen in front of you. Just sat there with grim expressions on your faces. 

 Lights turn off as the cabin goes to sleep. You were nowhere near ready with the adrenaline pumping through your body. 

Logan takes his blanket from the wrapper and lays it over your shoulder. 

“You should sleep,” he says. 

“Is that how it's going to be from now on? You telling me what to do” , you snap. 

Logan turns away from you, facing to the front. 

“It was just a suggestion”. 

You run your hands over your face wondering what sort of keeper he was going to be. 

“I need to pee” you say. 

He unbuckles his seatbelt to get up out of your way but you couldn’t wait for him. You’re fighting to get past him as he tries to stand. 

He grabs your waist to maneuver you but the touch sends rage through your body. 

You scream in his face. A loud ear piercing scream that turned everyone’s attention on you. 

Logan quickly let go, slumping back into his seat under the stare of other awake passengers. 

You rush to the bathroom, locking the door behind you. 

The tight space allows you to breathe. 

Washing your face with cold water, you decide it is time to return to your seat. 

Logan waits for the sound of a turning lock before he jumps from his seat to catch you as you exited and push you back inside. 

He is quick to lock the door behind him. 

Three, quick, firm smacks are placed on your bottom as he pushes you against the sink. 

It stings when he sits you on the counter, and stands between your legs.

“Are you crazy, bub? Acting like that”, he scolds. 

You try to move him out between your legs, but he pushes your knee down as you move your leg. 

“Don’t you ever misbehave like that again”, he warns. 

“Or what?”. He had already taken everything from you, and you trusted him enough to know he wouldn’t really hurt you. 

His angry stare didn’t scare you, but when his hands reached for the button of your jeans your heart rate spiked. 

“I gotta fuck the stupid out of you?” he spat. 

“Get off” you demand. 

You scream in his face again when his hand continues to unhook the button. 

He is quick to quieten you, clamping a hand over your mouth. Your head hits the mirror from the force.

He secures your hands behind your back with a single hand when you begin to hit him. It caused you more pain than him, it felt as if you were hitting against a brick wall.

The force knocks out his necklace that he had never worn before. A rectangular pendant dangles as he moves. You could see it was inscribed but the writing was too small to make out. 

“Is that how it’s going to be from now on? Me telling you what to do. Yeah. I think fucking so”, he grunts. 

“Now don’t scream” he orders. 

The hand over your mouth is removed as he uses it to tug down your jeans, and then his own. 

You know you should scream, make some sort of noise that would alert the others, but desire pooled with him between your legs. 

Your emotions were too complicated to unpack so you allowed him to take your pants off your legs. 

He throws them to the floor, but keeps your panties in his hands. 

You see why when he brings them to your lips, and forces them in your mouth. He clamps his hand back over to keep you from spitting them out. 

He sighs as he enters you. 

“You know, you don’t need to act stupid to get my attention”, he grunts as he rocks into you. 

Your toes curl feeling him inside of you. He fit so completely that you were building from just clenching around him. 

“Don’t cum. I’ll tell you when”, he says. 

You muffle a protest against his hand, but it was met with no sympathy. 

“Don’t you fucking cum or I’ll put you over my knee for ten more”. 

Your ass still stung from the three he gave you so you delayed yourself the best you could. 

He picks up his pace, slamming into you quickly, and hard. You hear his chain clink as he moves.

“Okay now”, he directs. 

Your thighs shake as you clench around him. 

His hand drops to allow you to regain your breath, bringing your pants from your mouth as he did. 

He pants in unison with you, only he is quicker to regain his resolve. Your head was still reeling while he re-buttons his jeans. 

He shakes his head as if he was trying to snap out of the trance he was in. 

It seemed to have worked as he was gentle when he slid your underpants back on. 

It was as if two people lived inside of him. One was sweet, and gentle, the other impulsive, and violent. 

You weren’t sure which one turned you on the way it did. 

He looks at you with those remorseful eyes. You should hate him but yourself wanting to comfort him. You knock it down to Stockholm and square your shoulders against his. 

“Let me take a look at you”. He turns your face in his hand and smooths back your hair from your face with his other hand. 

He checks to make sure you are okay. You didn’t look to be crying or in any pain. 

“You right, Bub? You going to be good for me from now on?”, he asks.

You take the necklace out of his shirt. He doesn’t move to stop you, letting you read his dog tags. 

‘LOGAN’ in capital letters and Howlett in smaller letters below. A series of numbers trace the bottom. 

You flip it, feeling the indents on the other side, and run your finger over the name. 

“Wolverine” you read, “like the animal?”.

He takes his tags from your hand and tucks them back under his shirt. 

“Yeah, like the animal”. 

[silly-sirenz]

Alastor x reader (if that's okay) who's basically the somewhat opposite of him?? (Sounds ooc of him but let me be delusional okay)

Basically unlike how Alastor always smiles the reader has this constant frown on their face, enjoys the pain of others/would rather not see others in pain, likes to play around a little with his victims/straight to the point, etc etc

Hellooooo 🖤

I can give it a go.

Word Count: 418

Warnings: Violence, gore, implied cannibalism? (this is Alastor so are we really suprised lolol)

FULL OF JOY

Alastor x Reader who has an opposing personality

The smell of rotting iron hits your lungs with a force similar to an old motorcyle crashing into concrete. You almost gag, but luckily your time in Hell has somewhat hardened your stomach.

"I thought this might turn your frown upside down." He beams, proudly.

"No Alastor."

"No? My dear, whatever is the matter now?"

On the other side of the cellar there is a man, you think. It is hard to tell due to the way Alastor's tentacles have pinned him down. Any notable facial features have been mangled (perhaps chewed) beyond recognition.

But you can tell that the thing is alive. Barely. But alive. The choking, wet crackle of fluid stuck in the respiratory tract as it struggles to breathe tells you that. Death rattle, they call it; The steady beat of death's overture.

"It's too much."

Poor thing, you think, before shooting it in the head and putting it out of its misery.

There is a moment of tension as you hear Alastor's footsteps come closer behind you. The air fuzzes, like static. But it dissipates almost as soon as it arises.

His hand appears on your shoulder.

"Then let's head upstairs for supper."

"I'll just never understand it, my dear. There are so many wonders in this world. But no matter what I share with you, you always seem so unhappy. Is it that you don't enjoy my company?"

You toy with your food. You've learnt to not question the meat that Alastor adds to the jambalaya.

"Not at all. I just don't think you should draw things out when you're taking someone down. It's best to cut to the chase, I think."

He puts down his fork. "This isn't just about earlier."

"Oh." You say, half confused, half concerned. He sounds unusually blunt.

"It's just... that frown you wear. You always look so upset, dear."

"Oh Alastor..." , you attempt to soothe him from across the table. "Remember what you told me about your smile?"

He flashes his golden fangs playfully. "That I'm never fully dressed without it?"

"No. You know, about how it's impossible to tell what's underneath. Well it's the same with my frown. Why should I let people read my mind so easily?"

He rises from the table, and you stare at his towering form as he approaches.

"My my, you are a dark horse!" He leans down to kiss your hand in an unusually forward display of affection from him. "Just when I thought you couldn't enchant me any more..."

[ghostlyforxst]

GENDER: Female Reader

WARNINGS: Inappropriate Language, +18, thigh ridding, and praising

CHARACTER: Ken Ryuguji (Draken)

WORD COUNT: 418

A/N- I'm apologize for it being short, but, I do plan on making my way up. Enjoy!

Your breath fluttered as your back collided with the rough, bricked wall. Draken's arms penning you, assuring to overwhelm your senses with himself—your sense of sight, smell, hearing, and even your sense of taste.

“Ken-”

“Hush it.” He grumbled, nuzzling your neck in-between pecks.

You've done it now, maybe those explicit photos you had sent him during the meeting were too much. But, watching as lust taint his cheeks and his cock fatten beneath his pants had you kneading your thighs against each other feverishly. You couldn't help it, you just wanted his attention.

A breathy whine came from you as your hands fumbled with his buckle, but Ken immediately smacked your hand away before he drew back and nestled his knee between your legs.

“Nuh uh." He denied, rolling his knee against your clad cunt. "A needy slut like you doesn't deserve my cock."

“But, Ken, please…” You whimpered, feebly.

His lips twitched smugly, “this or nothing at all.”

You let your head fall with a mumbled ‘okay’ and your hands catch his shoulders, pulling yourself closer until your pussy rested on his muscled thigh.

“Giddy up, baby.” He whispered, nipping at your lobe and patting your thigh.

Your hips rocked steadily, mewling pleasingly, as your folds smushed against your puffy clit.

Ken pushes his past your blouse and your bra, his fingers padding over your flushed skin, groping your breast before settling with circling your teat with the pad of his thumb.

You cursed breathlessly as you rutted your hips frenziedly, “fuck…”

He kissed your shoulder, “Do you think you deserve this? It wasn't nice of you to be so naughty during the meeting.”

“M’sorry, Ken, needed you s'bad.” You pant, your lips tucking between your teeth.

“Mhm, I'll forgive you this time but the next is another story.”

You nodded your head, feeling your thigh tremble with your nearing climax. Ken threw his head back as he removed his hand from your shirt and palmed at his pulsating dick. He shivered, savoring the feeling of your wetness soaking through your clothes onto his—knowing next time it would be your naked cunt against his bare thigh.

You sucked in a sharp breath before a choked wail emits from your wobbling lips as you orgasm, stars twinkling in your vision. You fell forward onto Draken and quickly, he embraced you.

“Good girl.” He smiled, rubbing your back. “Now, why don’t we both give ourselves a few minutes to recover and then I'll let you ride my cock okay?”

[football-and-fanfics]

The Medic #16 - Trent Alexander-Arnold

About the series: The Medic is an anthology-like series about the reader working for the medical team of the club/national team. Each chapter will feature a different setting/scenario and a different player

Who: Trent Alexander-Arnold Prompt: "You have broken ribs, take it easy." Requested by: anonymous Word count:418 Warnings: mentions of injury

A nasty collision just over a week ago left Trent with a fractured rib. Despite the sharp, searing pain it caused, he was very impatient to get back to training.

Today, he came to you for a planned check-up on the injury. As soon as he walked into your office, you couldn't help but notice that he looked a bit beaten down.

"This injury is a tough one to take, huh?" You said compassionately. "Quite so." Trent nodded. Even a week after it had happened, he could still only walk very gingerly and was still in quite some pain, making it unlikely that he would recover quickly from this injury.

"I just want this to be over." Trent pouted. "Can't I maybe start some light training?" "You have broken ribs," you chuckled, "take it easy!" From the way he had just walked into your office with the speed of a snail on tranquilizers, clutching his ribcage tenderly, it wasn't hard to conclude that Trent was not up for any kind of physical activity just yet. But clearly that was hard for Trent to come to terms with.

"It's driving me crazy that I can't do anything," he huffed sadly. You felt sorry for him. He looked so sad and out of his comfort zone. You wished you could do something to speed things up, but you knew with these kinds of injuries patience and rest were most important.

"I know this is hard." You tried to comfort. "But I really can't clear you for any kind of training yet." "I know..." Trent hung his head. "And I'm sorry, I didn't mean to take this out on you." You smiled gently. "I know you didn't. And I understand your frustration."

Trent was silent for a little while, before he spoke again. "So now what?" "You need rest," you answered. "I've been doing that," Trent grumbled. "Then do it some more," you smirked, "although I'm sure sitting in on a team meeting or helping the boss prepare for our next match isn't going to hurt you." You added with a wink.

Trent's face lit up. "Really?" You nodded, smiling. "But: in moderation." "I like it already." Trent smiled. He got back to his feet as quickly as his broken rib allowed him to.

You chuckled at Trent's sudden enthusiasm. "Remember, plenty of rest, too!" You called after him as he limped out of your office, already on his way to the very limited things he could do in this moment.

Request an imagine Trent Alexander-Arnold masterlist | Full writing masterlist

[flareovium]

"Up against the wall with me!"

Blade x GN reader

Word count: 418

☆ミ Highschool AU, Secret pining, Brief make-out session, Blade is secretly a simp, maybe a little OOC?😭

this has been stuck in my head for MONTHS and i need it out of my brain now.

MORE UNDER THE CUT!

They call him 'Blade.' Xianzhou Academy's resident troublemaker.

Now, Blade was your typical quiet guy who does nothing but get into petty fights all because someone looked at him the wrong way; That was why people feared him in the first place. People seem to forget he was a human who had feelings too, and naturally he wouldn't forget the only person who had spoken to him with kindness instead of fear.

He sees you. He always does. Stealing quiet glances your way, hoping that perhaps one day, he would catch you staring back at him. He had quite the active imagination; Often spacing out, daydreaming about speaking to you, protecting you, kissing you... His heart constantly hammering in his chest just because you brushed past him in the hallway.

It was safe to say he might have a slight crush on you.

It was quite the comedic sight for his very few friends. Blade, who was known to be the most stone-faced out of all of them, blushing like a madman just because you smiled at him.

Blade caught himself wondering what you think of him. He couldn't just approach you! What if he scares you off? He's only been doing the bare-minimum when interacting with you, and you guys weren't even that close! What if you think he's a creep!?

These thoughts constantly plague his mind, hindering his confidence and ability to actually get closer to you, until eventually prom night comes around.

He was alone, you were alone— and god, you looked gorgeous.

Blade almost damn-near panicked when he saw you approaching. His body was practically heating up under the collar of his suit and his necktie. His soul almost left his body completely when you handed him a small note, walking away with a sweet-smile and a wink thrown in his direction.

'Meet me in the hallway tonight.'

Fast forward to the present; The hallways were dim and empty, most people were enjoying the party in the gymnasium.

Blade has you pinned against the wall, his hand resting on your face, his jacket thrown on the floor and tie loosened, your fingers getting tangled in his dark hair. His confident demeanor betraying the thoughts racing inside his head. He was trying so hard not to shake, the fact that his fantasies were coming to life has him in disbelief.

Tucked away together, making-out in a dark corner of the school with the person of his dreams...

He could feel himself getting addicted to this.

[sunboki]

lee felix x gn. reader

request . hello! congrats on 2k 🥰 for the event, may I request physical touch with felix in the form of a drabble please? thank you :D

word count . 418 words

notes . so sorry sweet nonnie, i happened to delete your ask but here’s physical touch w/ lix :)

— event masterlist

felix has always been “attached”, most everyone knew that. though once you started dating, the attachment multiplied tenfold if you thought that was even possible. now at first glance it might seem annoying, but your boyfriend is nothing but a sweetie pie in your eyes.

take this evening for example, seated between your lover's legs while he shovels takeout into his mouth — an option that if he hadn’t been so exhausted from recording would’ve been disregarded and quickly replaced by his own cooking instead. eleven pm on a tuesday however was an exception, including all the cheesy necessities a couple would usually do while watching romantic movies.

except, the romantic movies weren’t actually romantic movies, more like legally blonde that lix had begged to watch with you recently, claiming he “missed the bend and snap” that sent you about pissing yourself on the floor; the blonde glaring his nonsensical stare.

“what if i did that.” he suddenly mumbles, eyes darting from the screen displaying elle woods strutting into law school in neon pink wear to where you sat between his legs.

wearing a confused expression, you try figuring out what exactly he was referring to before being abruptly answered.

“wear all pink, no, neon pink for our next comeback.”

“you’re kidding.”

“you wish.” stupid smirk tugging at one side of his ever kissable lips, you’re fast to pull away from his grip, covering your mouth while hunkering down to snort with laughter.

reminding, he reaches for your wrist, pulling you back into his embrace that ushers a short gasp of surprise.

“no — you can’t leave me —-“ he whines his displeasure, frowny face earning your amused coo. snuggled into his warmth for a second time, his hands reach for your chest, squeezing the supple skin beneath his fingers while quietly humming to himself. nothing suggestive, like a cat kneading a pillow. habits you can’t seem to resist.

“you can’t keep me here all night, y'know.” used to this, you huff a sigh, relaxing in his hold you know you’ll be stuck in for far too long to be healthy.

“i can, and i will.”

“all night? you sure?”

“yep.”

you lose track of time, feeling your eyes drift you away off to sleep alongside the fleeting thought of tomorrow morning surrounded by leftover trays and opened cans.

yet upon waking up to his arm loosely wrapped around your waist, you can’t bring yourself to leave his grasp, craving the touch you’d been deprived of. comfy, the opportunity only existing until your partner wakes up. till then, you’ll take advantage.

all rights reserved by @sunboki. repost and plagiarism will not be tolerated.

[lysa1201-saucy]

hi can i request body worship with jumin han? tyyy <3

Hiiii sorry this is super late, life is crazy and I’m still trying to learn how to write NSFW better (which is why I’ve taken these requests lol) and also trying to learn how to write GN reader to be more inclusive!

I hope this is good or at least is good enough LMAO I tried my best 🙏 Thank you SO much for the request 🥰

if it’s bad, no it wasn’t, it’s my birthday, be nice 2 me

++++

Never Seen Anything More Perfect - Jumin Han x GN!Reader

18+ ONLY

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: body worship (obviously lol, unless I’m a terrible writer and did it wrong cuz oops), oral but I keep body parts ✨ambiguous✨, marking, and some hand stuff idk handjob i guess idk

Word Count: 418

++++

Jumin was quite the attentive man. Always spoiling you, caring for you. Too cold? New jacket for you, a new blanket, want a heater? He’s got it. Bored? Here’s a new TV, some games, subscriptions to your favorite streaming services, quite anything you like.

He loves to spoil you. However, he has one area he likes to spoil most.

Your body.

God, he loves your body. Your eyes, your nose, your lips, your hair, your ears, your neck, your chest, your arms, your hands, your ass, your thighs, God the list can go on and on. He’s in love with you.

Every single part of you. Every inch. And he loves to show you that.

He had you moaning on his bed, sucking where you’re most sensitive as he went down on you, making sure you feel the absolute best. You look so perfect when he’s making you feel so good. You tug at his hair, confused on whether you want him to pull away and fuck you, or to keep going and let you cum all over his face.

“You’re so amazing,” he would praise you, leaving kisses all around your pleasurable space. “So perfect… can never get tired of how wonderful you are. Your sounds, the way you blush, the way you cum… always so satisfying. My favorite thing is you.” He would go on, kissing all over your body. Your thighs, your hips, your chest, a small suck and nibble on your nibbles, and his favorite part: your neck.

God, he loved your neck. Sucking on it, biting it, kissing it. And your jaw. He needed all of you, who was he kidding? “I could stare at your body all day. I want to kiss it all, mark it all, you’re so fucking perfect.”

“More perfect than Elizabeth the 3rd?” You chuckled a bit, testing him. In response, he moved his hand down to your groin to start playing with you, causing your chuckle to be replaced by a moan.

Jumin smirks. “More perfect than Elizabeth the 3rd… just don’t tell her I said that.” He smirks as he leads his kisses up to your ear, nibbling on the earlobe. You try to let out another giggle, but all he does is increase his speed and the pressure of his hand to once again replace it with a moan.

Finally, his lips moved to yours so sensually, his hands moving around to touch all of you. He loved you. Everything about you. Inside and out.

++++

I accept constructive criticism, just be nice im sensitive and it’s birthday you legally HAVE to be nice to me today

[natashaismylove]

My dove |N. Romanoff

Summary: Trying to make Natasha jealous will only end in one thing: punishment…

Pairing: Dom!Natasha x Sub!Reader

Warnings: Vibrators, Bondage (ropes), Overstimulation, Praise, Begging. 18+ Minors DNI

Word count: 418, a short one for today (longer ones will come soon…)

A/N: Hey guys, sorry for disappearing for so long! I’ve been busy with work, school, moving, getting a pet, and just life in general. But I’m back now and I have a few fics ready for you guys!

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Your vision was blurred with tears as you watched her sit down on the chair in front of you. She spread her legs as she watched your trembling body. A bullet vibrator on the highest setting was nestled between your legs, and your thighs were tied together with ropes. Your knees hurt from being on the cold hardwood floor for two hours, and your legs had fallen asleep from sitting back on your heels for so long. Your hands were tied together behind your back, stopping you from moving the buzzing object settled against your pussy. 

“What, you have something to say?” Natasha tilted her head. “Does my little dove wanna apologize?”

You whimpered in a mix of pleasure and pain. Your clit was nearly numb after the hours-long constant vibration. “Please…”

“Please what?” She leaned back, pulling the sleeves of her suit up a little higher on her forearms.

“Nat!” you begged, your brain completely melted after having so many orgasms forced out of you.

“I’m gonna have to hear a verbal apology here, my dove.” she shrugged. “How else am I supposed to know you’ve learned your lesson?” 

You whimpered before speaking quietly. “I’m sorry…”

“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.” she leaned a little more forwards.

“I’m sorry!” you said louder.

“I’m sorry for…” she urged you on.

You let out a cry. “I’m sorry for flirting with that agent to make you jealous!”

Natasha hummed contently. “That’s more like it. You’ve learned your lesson?”

You nodded, looking up at her with pleading eyes. “Yes, Yes, I’ve learned my lesson! Please, I can’t take it anymore!”

She looked you up and down before chuckling a little, getting up from the chair and kneeling in front of you. She held your chin and lifted your head to place a small kiss on your lips. She cupped your cheeks and wiped away your tears with her thumbs. 

“That’s my good girl.” she praised.

She pulled the vibrator away from you and you fell into her arms as she shushed you gently, untying the ropes on your wrists before pulling you away enough to remove the ropes from your thighs as well. 

“There we go, my dove.” she cooed gently before picking you up and placing you on the bed. She laid next to you and pulled you onto her chest. She put her hand on the back of your head to comfort you, mumbling sweet praises into your ear as you finally fell asleep from your exhaustion.

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[thisfrailheart]

prompt: peaches | june 22 | wolfstar au | suggestive and mature themes | word count: 418 | @wolfstarmicrofic

***

"It's nothing fancy," Sirius says as he lifts various containers out of the basket, puts them on the blanket and takes the lids off. "I didn't have a lot of time to–"

Remus reaches for Sirius' hand, holding it, caressing it with his thumb. "This is lovely. I'm so glad to be here with you."

Sirius' cheeks turn rosy under Remus' gaze. He sighs. "How do you do that? All these years later and I still blush like a bloody school girl…"

Remus laughs. "Not sure. It looks fantastic on you, though. Just like that school unifo–"

Sirius gasps and he pulls his hand free to slap it over Remus' mouth. "We're in public."

Remus chuckles and licks Sirius' palm, who just rolls his eyes and wipes his hand on his jeans. "Right. Moving on. This one has sandwiches." He points to one of the lunchboxes on the picnic blanket. "There's cucumber and ham and cheese. Didn't want to take my chances with eggs in this weather. We've also got some lemonade scones in that one over there and some fruit right here. Bon appétit."

"Thank you, darling," Remus says and takes in the spread before them, not sure what to start with.

His eyes widen in realization when he spots the fruit Sirius prepared for them. "I told you about that ages ago. I can't believe you remembered."

Months ago now, they'd been lounging on the sofa, watching some chef on a cooking show make peach cobbler. Remus began tearing up then, eventually revealing that his mother had gotten a lot of flack from his father for peeling and slicing peaches for him as a child because he hated the fuzzy skin. He told Sirius that he'd not had peaches in a long time because he couldn't justify expanding the energy with the pain in his hands and that the memories made him sad. Sirius held him and said he'd peel peaches for him anytime.

Remus thought it was a joke, but he understands now that he should've known better. He looks down at the sliced peaches, ripe and juicy and there's a hunger that flares deep in his belly that he definitely can't satisfy on their picnic blanket in the middle of the park. He goes for a kiss instead, pulling Sirius in with a finger under his chin. It grows heated fast and they break apart panting.

Sirius smiles at Remus, still trying to catch his breath. "I'll peel peaches for you anytime, my love."

[lavandulawrites]

Can I get A N Q and X w Poe pls :3

Yandere Alphabet A, N, Q and X with Poe

Can you tell that Poe is one of my favourite characters?<3 (Yandere alphabet request here)

Masterlist

Warnings: isolation

Word count: 418

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Poe’s love is as intense as it can get. His love sick expression and his tight embrace too much for you to bare. When he’s warmed up and not as shy with you as he was, you will find him to be quite talkative. He will drag you out on outings to lavish restaurants, peaceful parks and cozy libraries. He won’t hesitate with spending his fortune on you. He loves to buy you gifts even though you insist that you don’t need 6 copies of the same book. He will follow you everywhere (with Karl of course).

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Of you disobey the rules he has set for you, he will trap you within one of his novels. Worry not. The novel he picked is not a violent one. You won’t have any company as part of your punishment. He will let you out when he thinks you have learned your lesson. When you get back to the real world he will hold you in his arms as you ramble on how scary it was in the eerie silent castle within the book.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If you die Poe will never move one. He will write novel after novel, poetry after poetry about you and his sorrow, but he would never get over you. He will write novels with you in it so he could live out his longing in his literary world, but it’s never enough. He will soon follow you into the realm beyond.

If you breakup with him, it won’t take longer before he abducts you.

If you mange to escape him (which is no easy defeat) he will track you down. He is after all the second best detective in the world, so tracking you down is no challenge.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

You are Poe’s god. He will worship you day and night. Your happiness is the only thing that matters (other than you staying with him). He will do anything in his power to make you his. He will stalk you, sabotage your job and buy your apartment building and kicking out all the residents, including you. You will run to your trusted friend in the end. That’s much is certain.

[writeforfandoms]

The truth is waiting there

Find the series masterlist

You have a moment of uncertainty. Simon helps.

Established relationship Simon Riley x f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, implied sexual activity, these two are too cute, seriously I think these two are the most lovey dovey couple I've ever written.

Word count: 418

There was something about living in a liminal space, something haunting and fleeting and poignant. 

You stared at the now-empty bookcase, hands resting on the last box filled with books. You knew where you were going… sort of. Simon said he knew the perfect place, he was just waiting for it to go up for sale. Another month, maybe two. 

In the meantime, packing things away would make your lives easier down the road. 

It just… it felt weird. A little scary. 

The empty bookcase seemed to taunt you, somehow. Empty but for accumulated dust. 

Was your life truly so easy to simply pack away? 

“Sweetheart?” 

You jumped when Simon stepped up behind you, one hand on your hip helping to steady you. “Sorry,” you gasped, one hand pressed to your chest as if to calm your racing heart. “I didn't hear you.”

“Looked a thousand miles away,” he murmured, pressing up against your back, his arm looping around your waist. “You alright?” 

“I'm okay,” you murmured, leaning back into him, knowing he'd hold you steady. Your gaze strayed back to the empty bookcase, fingers curling around the box once again. “Just…”

“Just…?” He pressed gently, tucking his nose behind your ear, his breath warming your skin. 

“It's… weird. I guess. Throwing me off, I think.” You breathed in slowly, grounding yourself in the familiar feel of your husband. 

“Having second thoughts?” The question came slowly and for too even. Measured. 

“No!” You turned, and it was only Simon's quick reflexes that kept you from getting hit by the box of books. “Never.” 

Simon resettled one hand on your hip, looking down at you. You held eye contact, willing him to see you meant what you'd said. His lips quirked in a little smile. “Will it make you feel better if I promise we won't have to move again?”

You smiled sheepishly, winding your arms around his neck. “Maybe.” 

He chuckled, the hand at your hip tugging you closer, as if there was any space between you to begin with. “It'll go fast,” he murmured, thumb slipping under your clothes to get at your skin. “Besides, once we're moved in, we'll have all new rooms to break in.” 

You warmed at the thought and couldn't help but laugh. “You're terrible,” you chided, grinning. 

“Made you laugh,” he pointed out with no small amount of smugness. 

You kissed him. Only incidentally to shut him up. 

He was right, though. You'd have to make the new house very thoroughly yours. 

[my-deer-friend]

Play along: Amrev codebreaker!

While browsing through some primary materials reading up about John Laurens’ mission to France as special minister to the court of Versailles, I came across a letter that he wrote to the president of the Continental Congress on 9 April 1781 that included a coded message using a numerical cipher. 

I took a shot at deciphering it – here’s the process I followed, and you can play along too!

1. The first step, of course, was to determine which specific encryption was being used. After a bit of digging, I came across the immensely useful United States diplomatic codes and ciphers, 1775-1938 by Ralph E Weber. He explains that the cipher in question was “prepared on separate encode and decode sheets, the latter contained 660 printed numbers, with usually 600 words, syllables, and letters of the alphabet scattered randomly throughout the sheet.” So, for example, the word “congress” is “143”, the syllable “el” is “593” and the letter “r” is “215”. This cipher was an updated and improved version of the one used by Benjamin Tallmadge, and Weber explains that Laurens was the first one to use it. Weber also handily provides the decode table in an appendix. 

2. The second step was to design an efficient way to decode the hundreds of numbers Laurens used in his letter, and the obvious answer was my good friend the spreadsheet. I transferred the table from the book to Google Sheets, which was mildly tedious but hugely time-saving later on.

3. Now the fun part! I typed out the numbers from Laurens’ letter, and then used a simple LOOKUP formula to match the number to the decoded text.

The cipher also includes two nuances - an underscore beneath the word means a plural, and an overscore denotes adding an “e” - so I marked these in the cells with pink and green highlights respectively.

4. The final step was correcting a few errors in my table, refining the decoding (some numbers have various iterations to save space, such as 103 which can be any one of “ec/eck/ek” depending on which syllable is needed), and extracting the final text. 

It all reads very smoothly, with the singular exception of “ght-f-t”, which is the way Laurens rendered the word “gift”. The obvious explanation for this mangle is that he mis-wrote 340 (ght) instead of 170 (gi).

That’s definitely 340, 304, 196 which decodes as “ght-f-t”.

While it seems like a strange error to make, bear in mind that the encoding sheet (the one Laurens was using to change plaintext into numbers) would have been listed in alphabetical order to make finding the numbers easier (while the person at the other end has the sheet in numerical order, to reverse the process just as easily). And when we sort alphabetically, we can see that 340 and 170 are right next to each other:

A simple slip to make for someone writing coded letters late at night in low candlelight.

If you want to play along:

Here’s the code/decode spreadsheet. 

And here is the transcribed text (underlines for plurals, asterisk for added “e”). I've given the solution under the cut!

I have employed the most unremitting efforts to obtain a prompt and favorable decision relative to the object of my mission_ 381, 304, 543, 437, 366, 377, 276, 75, 75, 226, 269, 385, 426, 377, 17, 465, 197, 481, 428, 593, 381, 355, 153, 278*, 428, 333, 70, 18, 405, 184, 226, 291, 197, 376, 524, 330, 446, 362, 449, 143 The Count de Vergennes communicated to me yesterday his most Christian Majesty's determination to guarantee 381, 59, 594, 18, 9, 205, 330, 497, 254, 401, 376, 503, 306, 503, 467, 428, 226, 236, 330, 278*, 245, 205, 506, 99, 376, 381, 381, 256, 184, 90, 340, 304, 196 ...and the value of the military effects which may be furnished from the Royal Arsenal, 418, 330, 497, 428, 197, 380, 377, 196, 376, 45, 278, 245, 205 I shall use my utmost endeavours to procure an immediate 467, 208, 491, 18, 278*, 9, 205, 45, 278, 42, 381, 230, 215, 355, 18, 237, 330, 497*, 215, 167, 290, 377, 376, 341, 278, 182, 302, 75, 376, 59, 594, and shall renew my solicitations for the 357, 34, 197, 18, 203, 291, 491, 481, 484, 34, 325, 89, 113, 392, 197, 269, 336, 458, 278*, 97, 18, 245, 205 may not be 126, 21, 215, 497, 376, 341, 296, 75, 477, 226, 103, 196, 481, 278*, 483, 215, 553, 75*, 18, 238, 377, 59, 374, 478, the providing this article I fear will be attended with great difficulties and delays as all the 476, 490, 481, 36, 228, 351, 392, 226, 197, 18, 237, are remote from the sea, and there are no 441, 420, 50, 563, 503, 197, 18, 377, 59, 278, suitable to our purposes. The cargo of the Marquis de la Fayette will I hope arrive safe under the convoy of the Alliance_ 481, 341, 78, 465, 75, 426, 408, 596, 115, 76, 376, 174, 196*, 291, 103, 197, 75, 75, 184, 226, 197, 281, 5, 171, 278*, 428, 593, 381, 355, 492, 194, 236, 376, 45, 574, 408, 504, 366, 381, 506, 197, 197, 193, 213, 75, 197, 199, 291, 377, 197 The Marquis de Castries has engaged to make immediate arrangements for the safe transportation of the pecuniary and the other succours destined for the United States_ 481, 350, 215, 167, 450, 196, 376, 34, 381, 75, 473, 376, 76*, 458, 278*, 72, 208, 449, 577, 114, 89, 405, 486, 497, 197, 113, 126, 34, 361, 376, 269, 278*, 277, 291, 104, 381, 113, 278*, 401, 230, 408, 550, 552, 342, 291

Have fun!

I have employed the most unremitting efforts to obtain a prompt and favorable decision relative to the object of my mission_ after many discussions, difficulties and delays with the details of which it is needless to trouble congress.

The Count de Vergennes communicated to me yesterday his most Christian Majesty's determination to guarantee a loan of ten millions to be opened in Holland in addition to the six millions granted as a gracious gift.

...and the value of the military effects which may be furnished from the Royal Arsenal are to be deducted from the six million.

I shall use my utmost endeavours to procure an immediate advance of the ten millions from the treasury of France to be replaced by the proposed loan,

and shall renew my solicitations for the supplies of the ordinance and military stores on credit that the present of six millions may not be absorbed by thousands objects and the purchase of necessary clothing

the providing this article I fear will be attended with great difficulties and delays as all the wool and manufactories of France are remote from the sea, and there are no

public magazines of cloth suitable to our purposes.

The cargo of the Marquis de la Fayette will I hope arrive safe under the convoy of the Alliance_ and by satisfying our immediate necessities prevent the delays above-mentioned from having any disagreeable consequences

The Marquis de Castries has engaged to make immediate arrangements for the safe transportation of the pecuniary and the other succours destined for the United States_ and has repeatedly assured me that the naval superiority which will be established on the American coast the ensuing campaign