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coweye · 2 months

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The Worst Logan

Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 5.8k words

Summary: You are the deceased-anchor-being-Logan's lover, having found yourself with Laura in the void, you navigate meeting the variant of the love of your life. Sweet dick kicking angst with gratuitous smut, cause we all know Logan eats pussy like a CHAMP. 😤

This is self indulgence at its finest, but it had be to done. 7-years ago, the movie Logan broke something within me that has finally been fixed! 🤠💕

Warning: Explicit - smut. canon death, depression, angst, spoilers for Logan / Wolverine and deadpool, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, creampie, all the good stuff. 18+

The first time you see him again, the new him, the other him you mean. It’s in the cave accompanied by a man who talks far too much.

You recognise his voice in an instant when the mouth finally allows him to get a word in edgeways. His voice.

You’ve heard it nearly every night for the past seven years. It's a few octaves deeper than you remember and filled to the brim with vitriol but it's definitely his. The realisation that your memory has been warped by time is a blow to the gut but you continue towards the sound all the same.

When finally you round the corner Logan stands before you in all his glory. For a moment you are rendered utterly unable to form a single sentence as he leans against the wall, a bottle of bourbon in his palm and adorned in yellow and blue.

Your mind can't reconcile this figure as the man you buried. He has the same sneer, the same broad shoulders, he even has the same stance - but Logan, your Logan, would rather die than wear that garish yellow suit and admit to being the hero he always was.

His nose flares in what you believe to be recognition as he smells your presence, you allow your powers to retreat and reveal yourself. As your invisibility ebbs away Logan snarls in surprise as the talkative man in red gasps theatrically and begins jumping on the spot.

Your fears are proven well founded when your eyes connect with his across the room, instead of the love and recognition, you find only open hostility and rage.

Your heart had bulldozed all logic, you were in the fucking void, of course it was a variant.

This Logan looks younger; his hair not so grey, his face unscarred and his eyes not so tired.

This not-quite-Logan stares right back at you seemingly ill at ease with the stranger who is currently taking an inventory of his face.

“Logan, that's them. It’s X-23 and Y/N, the one’s I told you about.” You graze your palm along your daughter's back in support as you come to stand beside her.

“Her name is Laura.” It’s a knee jerk reaction; your correction. Your girl wasn’t the sum total of an experiment, she was her own person with her own thoughts and feelings, not a weapon to be utilised.

The Wolverine’s gaze darts between the two of you, it’d be comical if you didn’t feel like you were about to regurgitate your lunch. They land on Laura, and linger there for a few moments, before they return to you, it's as if he’s trying to find you in her features.

You barely hear the man you will later come to know fondly as Wade Wilson, question how you all ended up in the void.

“There was a knock at the door TVA sent me here, saying my world was dying … and I never even got the chance to fight for it.” Blade explains remorsefully.

“They sent us here because they knew we’d put up a fight.” You utter distractedly, finally breaking your staring contest with Logan as he takes a swig from the bottle he’s currently white knuckling.

“People like us don’t go quietly, TVA knows that so they took us out.” Elektra attests.

“The answer is yes, I’m in.” Wade declares.

“In what?” Blade questions bemused by the man in red.

“A team up, you me, me you, all of us together, lets get the fuck outta’ here.”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s a fucking liar!” Logan growls, furious at the other man.

“It was an educated wish!”

“HA!” The loathing behind it makes you pause, he was so angry.

The heat in his voice, the resentment, it burns you. You supposed even your Logan had his fair share of rage.

When he arrived at the mansion all those years ago, fresh faced and wild, you had adored him even then, though Logan was far too preoccupied with Jean to notice the torch you carried for him back then.

It was ironic that It had taken the utter annihilation of the X-Men to bring you together. Charles’ accident had left the two of you as sole survivors. Over the years in hiding your ability to mould force fields managed to keep the worst of the effects of Charles’ seizures at bay, but Charles Xavier was one of the most powerful telepaths to grace the earth and your powers had limits.

Those years were some of the darkest and yet the best of your life, you found yourself growing to love the man the world called The Wolverine.

You realise you’ve entirely tuned out Wade’s rousing speech and have spent the time analysing the man wearing your love’s face currently gargling bourbon though your name pulls you out of your reverie.

“Laura, Y/N? What’s it gonna’ be girlies?”

“Lets fucking go.” Laura agrees heartily, you simply nod still dazed.

“YES! LET’S FUCKING GO!” Wade shouts back fist pumping.

“You’re all fucking dead.”

Much later in the evening when the sun has finally set you seek him out. When you come across the father and daughter duo before the campfire you hold back, your skin slowly begins reflecting light, fading from vision as you call upon your powers to hide in the treeline.

They both needed this and it wasn’t something you were about to get in the way of. They talk for a little while, before they part ways, both a little teary. Laura nods your way despite being unable to see you as she heads back to the cave, her nose just as keen as her fathers.

So it shouldn’t surprise you a few moments later when you hear Logan's voice call across the clearing.

“You gonna’ stand there all night, Bub?” The man sounds utterly exhausted.

You say nothing in response, only dismissing your powers and revealing yourself as you advance. You take Laura’s seat at the fire, not quite having the courage to look at him just yet.

“You hear all that? Should mind your own damn business.” You remembered this Logan well, the one aching for a fight, desperate to shed his vulnerability and bloody his fists.

“I didn’t hear a thing, Logan.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, you haven’t had to gentle parent The Wolverine in a while but it’s like riding a bike. “I wanted to let the two of you talk, she needed it and I think maybe you did too.”

“What do you fuckin’ know.” He growls dismissively, swigging from his bottle of what now appears to be scotch. “You can skip the speech and go back up, I’m not looking for company.”

“I’m not here to tell you what to do, Logan.” Finally, you look away from the fire and find his eyes fixed on you, you swallow the lump in your throat before you speak. “I just wanted to see you.”

“See me?” He questions incredulously. “Well, keep the change, bub. Good night.”

Despite your smile at his words, you can’t help the tears that begin to cloud your eyes. Your mind and your heart have been locked in a constant battle since setting eyes on him. This man by all rights is Logan. The man you have mourned relentlessly and yet in every way that matters he isn’t.

“It’s like seeing a ghost.” Is the only explanation you can give him, his response is a stoic cheers with his bottle before he takes a deep gulp.

Finally either his curiosity or the alcohol gets the better of him as he questions. “You her Mother?”

“Yes and no.” His stare doesn’t leave your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “Her biological mother was a woman from Mexico City that the fuckers in the lab exploited, all we know is that she disappeared after giving birth. After … you … after everything that happened in North Dakota…” You trail off.

Your voice is suddenly thick and your words get stuck in your throat as you try to make them form. It's utterly embarrassing as you feel the traitor tears begin to form.

A bottle of Johnny Walker enters your field of vision from where you sit staring at your clasped hands in your lap. Startled, you glance up to find the Wolverine standing before you, casting an impossibly large shadow as he holds out the bottle.

You accept the offering from his gloved hand, your fingers grazing his in the transaction as you take a swig or two (or three) before passing it back. He looks thoughtful when he places his lips on the place where your own had just lingered, as he retakes his seat. With amber courage coursing your veins, you continue.

“She was all I had - if not for her, I-.” You wipe your nose, staring back into the fire. If it was a struggle to meet his eyes before, it was impossible for you now. “I just couldn’t see the point in being alive anymore if everything just slowly gets stripped away; the X-Men, then Charles and then Lo-”

You don’t know it, but you’re preaching to the fucking choir with your words. It was rare to find a soul, going through the exact same torture as yourself. Logan found himself softening to you, it was as involuntary as it was unwelcome, but he couldn’t help it as you described a battle so close to the one he fought daily.

“-she reminded me what I had to live for. Laura she is fierce and so fucking kind; she is everything I loved about him.” You cut your trauma dumping to a swift end as you remember yourself. “So no, to answer your question. I’m not her biological mother, but she’s my daughter in every way that counts.”

Silence reigns for a moment as neither one of you knows what to say to the other.

“You loved him?” Logan’s voice is deeper than before when he speaks the sentence. You raise your eyes from the fire to find his for the first time since you began monologuing. They’re filled with something you can’t quite name.

“I did.”

Logan seems to contemplate this, mulling it over as he continues drinking. Finally, he seems to reach some sort of conclusion. “You should get some sleep, big day for you tomorrow.”

“Can I stay here … with you for tonight?” The words slip out before you really even mean them to. Tomorrow you might be going to your death and the ghost of the love of your life is here alive and real, what do you really have to lose?

Logan does a double take, not quite expecting those to be the words that leave your lips. “I’m not him, Darlin’.”

“No, I suppose you’re not.” You sigh, “but could you please just hold me whilst I sleep, James?”

A huge part of you expects him to tell you to fuck off back to the cave and leave him to his booze fueled pity party. However, against all odds, he doesn’t do that.

Logan simply lifts the half full bottle of scotch to his lips and downs every last drop. He’s a little unsteady on his feet when finally he stands up to his full height and turns towards the blankets he’s laid out on the ground.

“Fuck it.” He growls and drops himself like a sack of potatoes onto the pile with little regard for his own body. You’ve certainly had nicer invitations into his bed but when he waves you over with a lazy gesture, you can’t help but hurry before he changes his mind.

Before you know it you’re tucked into Logan’s side. His gloved hand doesn’t quite seem to know where to go, more accustomed to brutality than tenderness these days as it hesitates for a moment suspended in the air. After some careful consideration he delicately places it on the dip in your waist securing you to him.

Logan’s breath is uneven, though he’s doing his best to seem unaffected by your closeness. It has been years since someone has touched him with such easy affection and the way your body curls around his own as if it was created to do just that is driving him crazy.

You are completely at ease with him, you trust him so entirely it almost breaks his fucking heart. Logan's stomach is heavy with something he can’t name, you fucking terrify him. Yet, he doesn’t move because you feel so fucking good as he holds you.

It's scary, you realise, how easy it would be to pretend this was your Logan as you melt into his embrace. He smells exactly the same as you bury your face in his neck, the roughness of his beard feels the same pressed against your forehead.

This Wolverine’s arms are a little fuller and his chest a little firmer, but he still holds you the same. You make a decision to not focus on such difficult philosophical concepts as variants and the morality of switching out your Wolverine. You decide to live in the moment, to just enjoy the furnace of his body keeping you warm and his arm encircling your waist protecting you from the world, it’s so easy to pretend that this was your Logan, so you do.

And you fall asleep quicker than you have in years.

It is still night when you awaken, it's not quite dawn but the fire has burned out to a low smoulder. You’re not sure what has awoken you from the best sleep you’ve had in a long while, that is until you feel the arms wrapped around you and the sleeping Wolverine holding you in a death grip against his chest, his half hard appendage digging into your hip.

Everything is still hazy; you’re floating in that sweet spot between waking and dreaming, you forget about North Dakota and, god forgive me, Laura.

You’re back in your bed at home and Logan is holding you.

There's no my logan, new logan, old logan.

He’s just Logan.

You bury yourself deeper in his neck.

It’s only for a moment though before it all comes flooding back and the agony overwhelms you like a blade to the gut.

Instantly tears flood your cheeks as you shake from your silent sobs.

“...Y/N?” Logan's voice is thick with confusion and sleep, his grip has loosened somewhat to allow you to breathe but he doesn’t release his hold on you. “What’s wrong darlin’?”

That affectionate name is the last nail in the coffin it fucking ends you.

All teary, and regrettably maybe a teensy bit snotty, you lean forward and kiss him. Kiss isn’t the right word but it’s your intention. Your lips touch one anothers before he’s pulling away and holding you back.

“Y/n… Darlin’ you don’t want this… I’m not-”

“But you are Logan. You’re him just as much as he’s you.” Your hands rise to his jaw, running your finger along its familiar sharp edge. “You’re Logan.”

“Y/N… I’d be taking advantage…” His voice is firm yet gruff as he tries to inject reason into the conversation. As usual being the good guy he’s constantly telling everyone he’s not.

“I am so goddamn sick and tired of being sad, please Logan.” This time when you capture his lips, he doesn’t rear back. You’re not sure what’s going through his mind, but his self control seems to snap within him as he begins returning the kiss in earnest.

Logan’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip begging entry, entry you swiftly allow. You’re breathing heavily through your nose as he plunders the depths of your mouth, exploring your mouth with his quick tongue.

Deciding to make the next move you push yourself up, throwing a leg over him to straddle his lower stomach. He’s lifted the top half of his body to ensure he doesn’t lose your mouth, your teeth clash slightly with the movement and you can’t help a bubble of nervous laughter. He pays it little mind though as he swallows the noise, his hands coming to rest on your hips.

Instantly, you grind your hips downward on the growing bulge that lurks below. Logan lets out a deep groan at the friction and his hands on your hips raise to the bottom of your tee in response, his thick hands tugging at it requesting your permission.

Nodding, you pull back causing him to groan at the loss of your hot mouth on his. Though it's only for a moment as the second the tee is over your head, he’s back on you, only it's your bare neck he’s lashing with affection now.

Logan breathes in deep your scent mixing with the heady aroma of your arousal. He’s nipping and licking along the smooth skin, soothing his bites as quickly he makes them. It's the animal instinct within him, telling him to devour you entirely; make you his.

“Logan…” You gasp, your eyes are clenched shut in pleasure as he bucks his hips upwards into your jean covered centre.

Logan pulls back to take you in, writhing above him in the moonlight, you’re fucking beautiful, though the flash of familiar metal between your breasts catches his eye, unable to stop himself, he catches it in his fist.

Dog tags; his old dog tags.

‘LOGAN’ is etched into the aged metal and they’re warm to the touch from living beneath your shirt over your heart.

The realisation hits him like a freight train, not only was he loved by you, but for his other self to have given you these, he fucking loved you.

He’s not sure why it didn’t occur to him before, that the other him was as devoted to you as you were to him. He’s not entirely sure how to feel about it, but he twists his hands, careful not to snap the metal string, but using it to pull you close.

For the other dead Logan, the hero he’s heard so goddamn much about, he decides he’ll give you the treatment you deserve.

As if you weigh nothing at all he flips you onto your back, his hands dropping the dog tags and falling to the waistband of your jeans. His dexterous hands undo the button so quickly, that your trousers are peeled from your legs before you know it, leaving you in an unimpressive unmatching set of underwear beneath his roaming eyes. Though Logan couldn’t give a fuck as he groans at the sight of your body exposed to him.

Logan begins by kissing down your stomach before his hands linger on your black panties, he can't help but grin at the tiny barely there bow in the middle of them; you’re like a gift all wrapped up for him.

His eyes lift to meet your own as he begins sucking at the fabric that's keeping your pussy from him, it's already damp with your arousal and by the time he finishes, absolutely sodden with his saliva.

“Logan, please…” you whisper desperately as your hands find his ‘tufts’ for a lack of a better word. They were new, but you liked them, plus they now seemed pretty functional.

He takes only a moment to remove his gloves, before they return eagerly to your body. Those thick hands traverse the planes of your thighs, they’re quick in their passing as they make their way up to the waistband of your panties, he hooks them over his thumb and reveals your soaking core to his hungry eyes and he’s right back to wanting to fucking devour you, and boy, fucking does he.

Enthusiastic, would be the word, earth-shattering would be another - the word to describe how Logan eats pussy.

Logan without much preamble dives into your centre, his tongue slips into your hot wet heat, lingering for a moment on your clit, circling it reverently before he dips that talented tongue inside of you. His nose knocks against your clit several times, each more delicious than the last as he utterly devours your pussy. He moans, grinding his hips into the dirt and readjusts pulling you closer, his thick muscled arms locking under your thighs as you buck against his mouth.

You're a complete goner the second he slips a single long thick finger inside of you.

“Fuck, Lo, I’m gonna-”

“Come, baby... I got’ya.” He mumbles into your pussy. And fuck me, he does. He carries on lapping at you all the way through your orgasm, drawing it out of you like the pied fucking piper of pussy. It feels like you’ve been falling for hours by the time you finally come down, only Logan doesn’t allow you any reprieve before he’s back to lashing your clit with his quick tongue. Your hands find those faux ear tufts once more and he groans as you pull on them a little more sharply than you intend in your shock, in answer Two fingers bury themselves deep inside of you.

“One more.” He’s negotiating orgasms, but you have no qualms as he rubs his nose side to side with affection against your sensitive bud. His tongue and nose moving in pace with his fingers, currently fucking in and out of you.

It's when he scissors those thick long fingers inside of you, hitting that spongy spot within you that makes your back arch.

Your top half has left the ground, he grunts in annoyance, suspending your hips back to his mouth at the angle he likes. Those deep hazel eyes meet yours from between your thighs, crazed and animalistic, driven wild with arousal as he eats your pussy with gusto.

It's that image that thrusts you over the edge once more, your back hitting the ground as your body seizes, thrusting your hips against his mouth.

Without any preamble a third finger joins stretching you deliciously. The hand not currently fucking you, leaves your hip to caress your stomach stroking the flesh there, not quite able to reach your breast.

“Lo… fuck… yes… right… right fucking there.” You cry as he draws your second orgasm of the night out, only when you tug at his tuft due to overstimulation does he acquiesce and pull back, only of course, after cleaning up your gaping desperate hole.

He sucks his fingers clean as he sits back on his knees, his cock thick and tenting against the yellow bottoms of his suit. Your arousal has soaked through his beard making his chin slick, he wipes it with a single swipe with the back of hand though, it does very little for his sodden chin.

Tired of not touching him, you sit forward grabbing at his belt. It's a difficult contraption that confounds you, though Logan is far too wound up to find any humour from it.

He replaces your hands unbuckling the thing before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

There, finally in all his glory, he is exposed to you and you’ve never been a religious woman, but Mary mother of fucking christ, he is gorgeous. Logan’s chest is fucking… transcendant to behold, it's like he’s been sculpted by god herself, the light isn’t the best out of here, but you hope to god you don’t die tomorrow simply for wanting to take your time and lick each and every single one of those muscles on his stomach.

Its your turn to leap forward onto your knees and join his mouth with yours, he tastes distinctly of you and his chin is still sodden, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck, you love the fact your desire is still marking his skin.

Your hands trace the firm abs at your disposal, before dipping into his now open trousers and underwear to find him rock hard.

If his physique impressed you, you had a big storm coming, because his cock was a fucking resplendant beauty and it was plain to see from the swelling Logan really liked eating pussy.

Your fingers barely touched as you pumped him, once twice, spreading the copious amounts of precum along his shaft.

“Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth. You lean down, positioning yourself to take him in your mouth, though he stops you in your tracks grabbing your shoulder. “No sweetheart, I want your pussy.” You clench around nothing at his filthy words, this man will be the fucking death of you.

You reach behind you and free your tits from their confines, another moan leaves his throat as he pushes you backwards. On his hands and knees he’s deliberate with every move as kicks the bottoms of his suit off as he prowls towards you.

Finally, he’s in between your legs naked as the day he was born. His hands are on your breasts, exploring the new plains exposed to him, playing with your nipples alternating between sucking and twirling them between his fingers.

So lost in his skilled hands, you barely notice when one disappears to line himself up, it's a shock, the sudden intrusion, but not an unwelcome one as he thrusts himself forward and as deep as he can go.

You moan his name into his ear, doing your best to keep your volume down.

He has prepared you well, you’re so worked up that he slides home through your tight slit. The sheer size of him means it's a stretch that borders on uncomfortable, but the second his hand finds your clit you’re clenching around him and grinding forward, desperate for more. Unable to control himself, his claws extend, he grunts pulling you close and thrusting them down into the ground.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts into your neck, where he's busy lavishing the flesh once again with bites. Your neck is going to be black and blue tomorrow, but you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck.

The two of you are so fucking close his bare skin so deliciously hot against your own, but you want more, you need more.

Logan pulls his hips backwards, pulling out of you until only the tip remains before slamming home and spearing you wide open his cock. Your moans blend together as you lose yourself in each other's bodies.

Logan is worked up from eating your cunt, so it doesn’t take long for the sensation to hit him.

“Fuck, where do you want it?” He grunts into your neck, as his hand descends to rub quick circles on your clit. He pulls your ass up, making sure to hit the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

You know he’s teetering on the edge, desperate to make you cum before he does.

“Inside - come inside me, baby.” You whimper into his neck as he pounds into you reaching your deepest recesses with his thick cock, his hammering, it’s unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it pushes him deeper into spots you couldn’t have imagined. He groans at your words, sounding every bit the wounded animal he is. Your shared groans and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he takes you again, and again is all that can be heard in the clearing.

Finally as he joins your lips in a kiss, you come hard on his cock. Clenching around him as your body writhes uncontrollably.

Logan adjusts his hold on your thighs, now he uses your body, drawing out your pleasure but ultimately chasing his own. The pace is fast as he grunts and groans erotically into your neck, he fucking growls as his hips stutter against your own, and you know you should be more careful, but the thought of him cumming inside you has you gripping his cock like a vice once more. You give him a tight sheath to come in, and he pumps you fucking full of his cum and its a big fucking load. Logan thrusts a few more times, pushing his seed deep inside of you as he claims your mouth once more.

You run your hands through his hair as he lets his body fall against yours, he’s supporting his own weight, thank god, you don’t think you could handle his muscle, let alone the adamantium skeleton. He’s still sheathed inside you as the two of you revel in the closeness.

The silence stretches on for an amount of time you can’t quite quantify. The two of you take in your surroundings, listening to the quiet of the forest, until your breathing has finally calmed down.

Logan lifts himself up on one arm, and pushes your hair back from your face. You stare at him in the moonlight for a long moment, unable to help yourself as you trace his familiar features. His strong nose and the curve of his brow, your finger dances along his flesh.

Logan’s eyes close, so touch starved he basks in your affection.

“I-” Logan goes to speak, before you drop your finger on his lips.

“It’s okay. Whatever happens tomorrow, happens. I’m okay with it.” You smile at him, there's a chill to the air but you’ve got your Wolverine warming you up. “I just wanted one night to be about something other than death.”

He takes your hand from his lips and kisses along the back of it and up your wrist, though It's a slippery slope as he hardens inside of you again.

Logan manages to pull two more orgasms out of you before dawn.

When your time has run out, the two of you finally dress, not wanting to be found in a compromising position. Logan curls his body around yours and buries his face in your hair as he spoons you from behind.

Just when you’re just on the cusp of sleep, he finally speaks into the night. Logan opens up about his world tearfully, instantly you reach your hand down, finding his own thicker one resting on your belly and you intertwine your fingers with his. He tells you of the mutant hunting as you draw comforting circles on the back of his hand, it's not much, but it's more than he’s ever had whilst reliving his worst day. When he has finally bared his soul, the two of you fall back into silence.

After what has been an emotionally, not to mention physically taxing night the two of you finally fall asleep if only for a few more hours, two incredibly damaged souls offering one another comfort.

It’s later in the morning when you finally awake. The sun has risen that much is clear but you're slow to awaken from your comfortable position in Logan's arms, his warm strong body coiled against your back fighting off the worst of the early morning chill, his face still buried in your hair as he snores peacefully.

There’s a sensation niggling at you, you think it's what woke you up in the first place; you can’t shake the sensation of being watched.

Lazily you open your eyes, only for your heart to drop to your asshole when you find Wade Wilson about 10-inches from your face lying on his side, his head supported by his hand.

“Mornin’ sleepy head, have a good night?” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“AGH!” Unable to stop both your cry of fear and your fight or flight response in progress, you throw yourself backwards, your powers activating of their own accord, and slamming your body into Logan’s chest. He startles awake, with the telltale ‘snikt’ of his claws extending as he orientates himself, his arm coming out to block you from the threat, despite not being able to see you.

After your brain catches up, you call your power back, but Logan doesn’t do the same, keeping his claws out seemingly ready to slice up his not-so-best friend.

“Get the fuck outta’ here, Wade.” Logan growls harshly at the other man, his voice is filled to the brim with hatred.

“Hmph - this is what I get for acting altruistically. I thought a good stress relieving bone in the woods with your cherie amour would really sort out that bee in your bonnet, but you sir are just a very unpleasant man and I’m worried that-”

“WADE.” This time Logan’s voice is a threat as he shouts at the man. You place a hand on his muscled arm to steady him. Though he may have stopped your heart with his antics, Wade isn’t doing anything particularly outrageous. Logan shakes your hand from his arm and allows his claws to retract as he stands.

“Thanks for jumping to my defence there, Y/N. Great to meetcha bt-dubs, huge fan.” You’re disoriented from the wakeup call but you shake the hand he offers you. Honestly, you’re still trying to process the head-fuckery of the past day, so you don’t have a quick response for him, though the mouth doesn’t seem to mind as he continues. “That mean lil’ lady is asking for ya’. Thought I’d come and check you and big yellow weren’t still bumpin’ uglies. Didn’t want her to see you and Papa going to town on each other's fun parts.”

“Uh - Thanks… Wade?”

“That’s me.” He theatrically begins bestowing multiple kisses on the back of your hand he still had in his grasp, which you retract gently. “Oh, and we’re done.”

Pushing yourself up, you go to stand though Logan offers you his newly gloved palm. You lock your fingers around his and the two of you stand together, inches apart and your fingers still intertwined, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Wade’s ‘awh’ over your shoulder shatters the moment and he drops your hand instantaneously.

After a beat or two Logan leans forward, placing a single solitary kiss on your forehead. “See ya’ around, bub.”

“Where’s my smooch, Logie-bear?”

“Go fuck yourself, Wade.” He calls as he walks around, Logan doesn’t look back as he heads off into the forest.

You still had faith he’d turn up for the fight, Logan always turned up when it counted and you knew this time would be no different.

“Hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.” Wade sighs linking his arm with yours.

“Mmh, You can say that again.” You agree with the clown watching Logan’s ass as he walks away, you swear you see his step falter thanks to his impeccable hearing, but he doesn’t turn back.

The two of you turn and you begin walking back to the cave arm in arm with the strange man to prepare for the assault on Cassandra’s lair when Wade finally asks the question you know he’s been dying to ask since meeting you “So, Y/N just between us girls… how big is it?”

LOGAN TENDER HAIR TUCK SUPREMACY RISE. I'll use it in every fic, don't think I won't.

Thanks for reading xxx

Graphics by my pal - @saradika-graphics 💕

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celesteleoves · 5 months

Note

hcs of bakugou / todoroki being a hardcore simp for reader maybe?

“I WANNA BE YOURS.”

KATSUKI BAKUGOU/SHOTO TODOROKI x fem!reader.

summary: what the request said!

warnings: swearing (bakugou…), mentions of todoroki’s childhood (very brief), that’s it i believe!

a/n: i love this request. i hope i wrote this to your liking!

—

BAKUGOU KATSUKI —

he is a very subtle simp. you probably wouldn’t even think he liked you if you guys weren’t already dating. the way he shows his love for you is… questionable.

he does the simple things like following you around like a lost puppy (even though he swears he does NOT) .

he’ll definitely demand you never leave his side so he can always be there to protect you.

“you’re so weak, you need me to be there to protect you at all times.”

you’ll just nod, enjoying your boyfriends presence. (he’s actually geeking over you aswell and the fact you grace him with your presence).

he takes you everywhere with him and doesn’t care about what anyone says. oh, aizawa paired him up with kirishima? you’re coming with. you can’t stay a second away from him before he’s rushing around like a headless chicken looking for you.

your biggest fan by far, anything you do he’s practically on the floor worshipping you. then the next second he’ll be calling your outfit disgusting in the sweetest way possible.

he’ll also deny the fact he’s a simp for you. one time, kirishima caught the poor boy gazing at you, dare i say LOVINGLY, across the room as you did a mundane task.

kirishima has never grinned wider than he did when he noticed this. your boyfriend noticed the quiet chuckles leaving his friend and turned towards him.

“what the fuck are you laughing at?”

“you stalking y/n!”

“I WAS NOT STARING AT HER.” sure… liar. you literally just outed yourself…

bakugou loved you, even though he shows it in his weird, weird ways.

SHOTO TODOROKI —

the sweetest, sweetest boyfriend ever. literally the ideal boyfriend anyone could have SIMPLY because of how doting he is towards his partner.

he’s absolutely enamoured with you. he isn’t shameful about it either! (referencing one of my other head-canons) .

this boy will downright show his love for you.

we all know shoto has a hard time with social cues, he blames it on his childhood and the lack of social times he had – always being isolated.

that’s also the reason why he doesn’t understand why he can’t stare you down like a hawk and not expect people to be slightly worried… why is he staring at you like he wants to eat you?

cuteness aggression is a thing. you both get it when you’re with each other.

you can’t believe you managed to secure this boy. he never opened up to just anyone, yet for you he made an exception. you flew that all the time.

meanwhile your boyfriend is still in denial you two are dating. every time you bring up your realtionship he’s blushing like a maniac and shying away from you.

your classmates notice the little things. such as you placing your phone face up only for it to be face down a couple seconds later because todoroki fixed it for you knowing you don’t want people staring at every notification on your phone (this is so me guys i’m sorry).

he is very attentive, he’s such a simp. he’ll pick up on the little things. sometimes, you feel like he knows you better than you know yourself.

there was definitely one time you had been making yourself a snack in the kitchen, forgetting to get one of your favourite piece of food for the snack .

once your snack was made, you frowned at the missing piece of your food you wanted.

starting to get upset, you looked around for something to make up for this.

“here.” a soft voice spoke causing you to relax at the sound of todorokis gentle tone.

“i can’t find my-”

“y/n. here.”

you looked at your boyfriends hand, noticing he was holding multiple variations of the missing food item you craved.

your lips trembled at his thoughtfulness and you pulled your boyfriend in for a hug as he returned it with a soft smile on his face.

he’s too sweet for you and such a simp!

—

a/n: guys, bare with me if there is spelling errors. this was not proof-read! i hope this was good enough, it was kind of short.

SEND REQUESTS! 🤍🤍

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 2 months

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more 18+ LOGAN HOWLETT thoughts bc clearly im a big fat fucking liar

fem!reader, 583 words

Early morning sex is one of Logan’s favourites. There’s no rush, no haste – nothing. The rest of the world quiet, as if it's only the two of you up.

He’d often be cuddling into you from behind, arm like a dead, sleeping weight around your middle. His hand in a protective hold under one of your tits, keeping you there with your back to his burly chest. It’s rather comfortable.

And as his eyes begin to open, adjusting to the dawn sky through the gap of the curtain, he notices something between his legs causing him anguish. Thick, naked cock rock hard against the cheek of your ass, the little sleeping, unknowing motions of you only furthering that agony.

He nuzzles his face into you from behind, chin hooking on the nape of your neck as he presses soft, light kisses into your cheek – trying to ease you awake. And when you inhale, the sound prolonged and sleepy, he only tempts you further: running the scruff of his beard over your bare shoulder, lips pressing faintly into the side of your throat.

“Got something I want you to take care of, sugar,” he whispers, voice low and gruff beside your ear. His hand on your tit beginning it’s gentle kneading, again, like he was trying to coax you. Pushing it even further by saying your name in that deep, manly way he often does.

You nestle your head back into him, humming in a way as if to show your intrigue. Your half-asleep self silently asking him to elaborate. And when he takes the hint, his grasp around your breast loosens, instead moving down to your stomach – large fingers brushing over your warm, bare skin.

The trail continues, his touch moving down to between your thighs, the thickness of his wrist acting like a wedge betwixt your legs. His middle finger instinctively extends downwards, the tip of it running between the lips of your pussy, the action like a gentle, momentary warm up.

And so, he leaves that spot just below your clit, reaching his hand behind you —to the front of him— and to his cock. Fingers wrapping around his base, fist faintly pumping over his dick as if to ready himself – simultaneously guiding his head towards you from behind.

He teases you briefly with the tip as he lines up, swirling and circling himself around your entrance before sinking into you. The remnants of last night’s dirty affairs acting like a natural lubricant.

He stills, using his cock like a plug as if to allow you a moment to adjust – accommodate him once again. But it was like muscle memory, the walls of your pussy stretching and wrapping around him, drawing more of him in.

“Fuck,” he groans, the sound cutting his curse short. He wraps his arm back around your middle, hand finding itself tucked under your tit –like his prior sleeping position– using your body for stability as he begins to slowly rock into you.

Your eyes close as you melt into him, posture softening against his chest, grip loosening around his thick wrist. He inadvertently mirrors you, the tenseness in his shoulders dissipating as he rests his head back on the pillow – relaxing into you the way you do him.

Like it all required no effort. The unrushed, irregular wind of his hips into you from behind letting you both feel just enough, each of you still far too sleepy for it to be anything more than this.

I rewatched DOFP for him last night. massive mistake. cried myself to sleep

#thot #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett xmen #logan x reader #logan xmen #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine

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sweetnans · 2 months

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Bakugo marks on his calendar every special date or upcoming event that's important to you.

You once told him, when you were in the knowing each other phase, that you had a boyfriend who always forgot the dates that were important to you, aside the dates in the relationship, like anniversaries and all, he always forgot when something big was happening to you, like a pretty hard exam you busted your ass off studying, he always forgot to asked you how did it go and that made you feel sad.

He bought a big ass calendar that he hangs inside of his closet. He bought the calendar and two markers, one red and one of your favorite color. He thought that buying the red one would be a nice excuse if you ever find out about the calendar (you will) and he would also say that the other marker was a free one on the pack.

One day, he asks you to fetch a hoodie from his closet, and you see it. The giant calendar hanging there and oh god, there are only marks made with your favorite color.

He comes up with lame excuses like he uses his brain to remember important things or that he doesn't need to write things on a stupid calendar when he can take notes on his phone.

From the time you've known Bakugo, you know he's a shitty liar, so you don't push it.

Since that day, you have started to mark on his calendar, too, among the bright shade of your favorite color. There are doodles made with red, hearts with his and your initial, explosions, and even smiley faces. He looks at it every morning thinking how he got so lucky to have you

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6gumi · 2 months

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“ inexperienced ” my ass !

⋆.˚ NSFW mdni . wc . 884 . multi-fandom men x f!reader 、AGED ! UP CHARACTERS ! 、 cunilingus 、maybe tit play ? ? am not suresies ! 、softies . . hehe 、messiest eaters eva . . x-x — 𝑹𝑼𝑩𝑰 : “ eeeek ! here is ‘anotha filler thirstie ( sad face ) am so sorrie i haven’t been able tew get my drafts in ! eeeek hope dis makes up for it . . hehe ( ´ - ` ) ! ”

“i’m not that experienced, baby . . . so don’t expect much.”

. . . such a liar he was. you knew your boyfriend was a liar . . . but you never knew he was this much of a liar! your lashes fluttered, mouth hung open at the feel of his wet tongue along your cunt. he peeled your clothes away, baring your body to him completely. the sight of you, naked and glistening with sweat, left him utterly breathless. he needed to see you writhe beneath him, to hear the sweet music of your passion. your boyfriend’s breath hitched, the temptation was almost too much for him to bear. his calloused hands reached up to take one of your breasts in his grip, giving it a gentle squeeze. a soft moan escaped your throat, your soft flesh filling his grasp. his other hand traveled up your waist, moving around to cup your other breast. his fingers teased your nipple, rubbing in a circle before flicking it lightly.

you could feel his gaze on you . . . his eyes darkened as he whispered against your breast, "let’s get your pussy all nice and wet." leaning forward, his lips planted smooth kisses along your midriff . . . trailing even lower than before. his tongue snaked out, swirling around your clothed pussy. “h—hey . . .” you murmured, the tips of your fingers digging against his scalp. he hiked your skirt up against your waist, revealing your ass to him completely, the lace of your panties was the only barrier between his mouth and the sweet nectar he craved. he slid his hand beneath the waistband of your undergarments . . . sliding the fabric down to your knees. “make sure to use your pretty mouth and tell me when to stop . . kay?” shit, he could feel himself growing hard at just the thought of getting his hands on your luscious body. “because . . i think i’ll be too focused on how much you taste to even stop myself.”

your boyfriend settles to his knees, his cock straining against his pants. he licks his lips, teasing the soft flesh of your pussy before diving in. his tongue darts inside, circling your clit once. twice. he moans, his voice muffled by your cunt. he’s loving every second already, feeling your warmth enveloping his tongue. the larger male slid two fingers inside, his thumb pressing against your bud . . . setting a steady rhythm, working them with skill. he’s tasting nothing but his beloved’s delicious flavor, and he’s enjoying every second of it. “you . . . ah!—said you were inexperienced . .” he gazed up at you, those sweet eyes of yours were going to send him to the moon . . while his were sharp; and serious . . . as if daring you to deny him, to tell him no more, to push him away. but he knows you wouldn’t want him to stop, no . . not one bit. "i am.” “th-then why—mmh! you’re a liar, a big fat liar !”

“mhm . . say whatever you want.“ he purrs, his voice filled with wanton desire and smugness. his wet muscle teased around your wet folds, tracing a path as he ate you out like a starved man . . the way he moved his tongue against you felt good, almost too good for someone who was “inexperienced”. blush covered your entire face . . indicating just how embarrassed you were. the way he licked and sucked at your cunt drove you crazy. your boyfriend gave you a soft hum, feeling your body react to the gentle touch, the muscles in your thighs clenching. “so sensitive," he whispered, his expression a mix of pride and amusement, a hand gently stroking the side of your face. "—yet such a good girl. you’re taking this quite well.” his lips curled up into a devious grin, the sight of his pretty girl being weakened by his ministrations was only fuelling his fire. he revelled in that power, enjoying the ability to make you quiver and squirm. "you still good, baby?" he asked, amused, his hands moving in tandem with his tongue. he hummed at your subtle nod, his fingers pinching your nipple from below with just the right amount of pressure to bring you to the edge but not send you over. just seeing your legs tremble so much . . . he already knew he was doing a good job, he could even feel the wetness coating his face, and he lapped it up hungrily, craving more.

"shit.." he cursed, though not out of frustration, “your pussy is driving me crazy." he whispered against your folds, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers through your entire body, it almost felt as if you were being electrocuted or something. “my darling girl with such a sweet pretty pussy . .” his tone was firm but filled with a promise of more pleasure to come; he wanted you to experience every inch of ecstasy he could give you. your boyfriend’s fingers slipped between your wet folds, desperate to get another reaction from you . . the constant sounds of slurping and sucking filled your ears, it almost felt wrong to listen to how well he was licking you up “such a liar . . . . hng. you were experienced all along!” his grin faltered for a moment as he heard the desperation in your voice, chuckling at your fucked-out expression. “you’ve got it all wrong,” he whispered, his voice rough. “i’m only learning . . . i’ll get better, ‘promise.”

— CHOSO KAMO 、MICHAEL KAISER 、 RENSUKE KUNIGAMI 、reo mikage 、ARGENTI 、kamisato ayato 、MIYA ATSUMU 、SUNA RINTARŌ 、sunday 、RAFAYEL 、YUKICHI FUKUZAWA 、chuuya nakahara 、TAKUMA INO 、wriothesley 、JING YUAN 、 CHIGIRI HYOMA .

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alexthetrashyracoon · 4 months

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Simon grinned at himself through the mirror like a stupid teenager in the changing room as Price, god bless this man and his father figure behavior, tugged on his tie to keep it straight and clean.

Wedding Day had come. His wedding day had come.

“Mate, you must be shakin’ with excitement to marry the pretty face.” Gaz grinned from his spot on the couch, all three of them dressed in their best attire. Even Soap hadn’t complained once about wearing a tie.

Simon’s mind wandered to you in the other room, he hadn’t seen you since last night, tradition, that’s what they called it.

He hoped you were having a blast, because you had to spend so many days and nights over the wedding plans that he had to get you to the hospital once after you broke down from exhaustion.

“Anyone ever thought big bad ol’ Ghost gets married?” Soap teased as he rummaged through the drawers at the desk. What exactly was he searching? Simon didn’t know or maybe he was too happy to question his best friend’s motives for now, they usually end in chaos and today was meant no chaos.

“I always believed Simon would find the one true love one day.” Price nodded and patted Simon’s chest, telling him he was done with the tie.

“Liar.” Gaz laughed and shook his head. “If you want to know who always believed in you, Lieutenant, that’s me. Ol’ Captain and MacTavish over here said you would die a virgin. We got a bet running for a while.”

Simon wasn’t even surprised or mad, maybe tomorrow, or the week after. But tonight he wanted to be on Cloud Nine and looking through the pink tinted glasses of love. Tonight he would say ‘yes’ to the person he loved the most, the one that kept him alive and sane and put up with his antics.

“I’m getting married.” He smiled at himself in the mirror.

“You’re getting married, son.” Price looked at him, through the mirror, a proud smile hidden under the beard.

A minute later his phone rang, your name and picture on the screen.

“Yes? Everything alright, darling?” Simon asked and looked at Price, worry flashing behind his brown eyes.

“I’m scared, Simon. I… I know this will sound crazy and you probably think I’m mad. But… I wanna run away.” You say, followed by a shaky breath. “But at the same time I don’t wanna run away but stay and marry you. Does it make sense?”

Simon relaxed immediately, you were nervous, as you should be. Just like him.

“How about this then, darling, we run away together until you know what you want.” He grinned and picked up his suit jacket.

Soap and Gaz were gasping at him.

“Let’s run away together and if you still feel like running, we blew off this party. And if not, we come back, say yes to each other tonight and live our happily ever after.”

Gaz asked if he was insane. Soap was looking between Simon and Price, who simply had the time of his life while opening the door for Simon to leave.

“Are you sure… do you… I mean…?” You started to ramble and mutter under your breath.

“Darling… For you I would go through hell and back. I am not complete without you anymore. There was a time before you, sure. But there will be no time after you. Together.” Simon spoke gently and could see through the phone who your cheeks turned pink and tears pricked your eyes. “I’ll be out in two minutes, don’t let me wait.”

(Spoiler, in the end Simon and you got married surrounded by friends and family. Price lost a bet to Laswell because they both know you two and knew you would pull such a stunt. Soap had gained a few more grey hairs than necessary and Gaz was pretty sure this was some kind of punishment, why else would you two pull something like that.)

#cod mwii #cod x gn!reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #ghost x you #cod mw2 #cod x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley drabble #simon ghost riley x reader

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writersdrug · 10 days

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Bartender Simon when a customer yells at reader for a mistake?

I love the way you guys think LOVE keep em comin!!

It starts when he's restocking his bar, carrying crates with fruit, bitters, coasters, and straws. He comes down from the pantry upstairs to a decently relaxed lunch crowd, when he hears the second half of the customer's tantrum.

"You expect me to eat this?! It's bloody raw!"

"I'm so sorry, I can take it back aga-"

"You already did that - went to the kitchen and stuck it under the warmer for a few seconds and thought I wouldn't notice, huh?"

"No sir, I gave it to the che-"

"I don't want to hear fucking excuses, just go fix my damn burger. I'm paying for this shit, aren't I? And you're working for my tip. So fucking work, cunt."

Humiliation isn't enough to describe what you feel - there isn't a strong enough word for it. Claiming you're a liar, saying you grovel for tips, yelling at you in front of your other tables, calling you a cunt - it makes your eyes sting with oncoming tears, staring at him and using every muscle in your jaw to keep from spitting insults back at him. You want to throw the food in his face, but instead, you grab his plate and storm off to the kitchen before he can see you cry.

The man scoffs, looking at his watch. "Fuckin' great..."

Simon's still standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding his crates and staring daggers at the man. He knows what it's like, being berated by customers. He says "that's customer service for ya" and moves on. But for this wanker to berate you - he sees red. He sees his next target.

He swiftly crosses the restaurant floor, boots thudding against the old wood as he drops his crate behind the bar. Soap's already yelling about the asshole when he pushes his way into the kitchen.

"Order it fuckin' rare and ye get fuckin' rare, bloody clipe- talkin' mince, bawface bastard-" he slams the burger back onto the grill with a tense arm, continuing to grumble as it sizzles. "Cookin' ye a nice strip o' shoe leather-"

You're sitting on an overturned crate, sobbing into your hands, pen and notepad on the ground beside you. Price is on one knee, one arm around your shoulder and the other on your leg - you'd never officially met the owner of the pub, but now was as good a time as any, you suppose.

"Wot happened?" Is all that Ghost could say without going off on a rampage. He's saving that for later.

"He fucking embarrassed me, that's what happened!!" You snap, looking up at Simon. Your eyes are red and puffy after only crying for a minute or two, cheeks wet from your tears. You hug your arms around your middle and choke on a sob. "Told me his fucking burger wasn't cooked, so I sent it back- then he tries to say I never even gave it to Soap?! Calls m-me a cunt in front of my tables?! Make me fucking work for his money - I don't want his goddamn money!!"

Price shushes you, worrying your anger might be leaking through the kitchen door - he doesn't want the same customer to hear you bad-mouthing him, although it's rightfully deserved. He rubs your back gently as you drop your head into your hands again, shoulders shaking as you cry.

Simon's seething - he's already moving before his brain can catch up, still stuck on the picture of your teary face. He marches behind the line and reaches across Soap, picking the burger right off the grill.

Soap makes a shocked sound. "Ye gone mad, LT?!"

"Table six?" Ghost asks, holding the sizzling burger patty in his hand, grease dripping onto his forearm.

You stare between his face and the patty - your crying stopped, your face now replaced with a stupefied expression. "Uh- yeah."

And like that, he's off; he shoves himself back out onto the floor and makes his way towards the customer who yelled at you. The burger burns his hand, but he doesn't even notice the pain. He drops it onto the table in front of the man, who yelps in disgust. "What the fuck-"

"Better?" Ghost says, hands clenching into fists at his sides as he looked down at the man, now stuttering and blubbering in shock. Specks of grease are freckling his white dress shirt.

"Are you- is this a fucking joke?"

"It's your fuckin' burger."

"I can't believe this-"

"Then get the fuck out my pub." Ghost growls; he grabs the man by his arm, ripping his blazer off the back of his chair, and drags him to the front door. The other customers look with wide eyes as he busts the door open with his shoulder and throws the man onto the sidewalk. He wheezes as he hits the ground, and Ghost throws his blazer at him next.

"If I ever see your face in 'ere after this, 'm throwin' you out again and keepin' your bullocks as a fuckin' souvenir."

The man stares at him, flabbergasted, as Ghost walks back inside. People are focused on their meals now, heads down and pretending they didn't see Simon body a man to the ground - the guy deserved it, after all.

Simon huffs, picking up the burger from the now-empty table. His hand stings a bit, but he has years of callouses built up to keep any real burns from settling in. He gently kicks the chair back into place and starts heading back to the kitchen, when he sees you.

You're staring at him with wide, wet eyes, standing in the entryway to the kitchen and mouth slightly ajar in awe. You've fully stopped crying, but there are still tears on your face from before. Eyeliner and mascara are smudged a bit, but it only makes Simon's fondness for you blossom.

He gently nudges your shoulder with his elbow as he pushes past you. "Take a fifteen. I'll watch your tables."

You stare after him as he throws the burger into the trash, grabbing a fresh towel and wrapping his hand. Wide back facing you as he looks at Soap, who stares at him with a frustrated sigh.

You're horny now. Horny for Simon - and you're definitely relaying this entire shebang to your friends tonight.

#bartender ghost #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost cod #cod x reader #call of duty

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deadsetobsessions · 5 months

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Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt. 7

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

“I’m having a child.”

Danny stared at Batman.

“…Uh, congrats?”

Batman whips out a stack of paper and a pen. “It’s you. Sign here and initial the highlighted spots.”

Danny instinctively, from years of dealing with Vlad, whacked the stack right out of Batman’s hands and into the bay. He doesn’t even feel bad about littering this time because, “Begone, fruitloop!”

Wait, no, that’s not what he meant.

“I mean- I have parents!”

“Not for long.” Batman muttered and then did a double take. “You have parents? How?”

Danny gasped, placing a hand on his chest to clutch his metaphorical pearls. He ignored Batman’s mutters. Everyone knows the vigilante has an adoption problem. At least, everyone who lived in Gotham did, as everyone who didn’t was somehow convinced that he “worked alone” or some bullshit like that. “Are you naturally this insensitive or were you dropped on your head as a baby? Obviously I had to come from somewhere.”

“They’re still… alive?”

“And kicking,” Danny said, inching away from yet another rich weird guy trying to adopt him. “Mostly the kicking part, though.” He said, remembering the sparring sessions. His mom could kick his as six ways to Sunday with nothing but jiu-jitsu and still have time to work in the lab.

“I see.”

“I’m charging you extra for the emotional upheaval. I have trauma regarding rich people trying to adopt me.”

Batman sullenly handed over a thousand.

“Sweet. There’s a group of shades down here asking if you could find their murderer. Apparently the serial killer is still at large.” Danny pointed.

“Of course. Tell me everything.”

The adoption papers disappeared as Batman went into detective mode.

Danny shoved the cash into his glowing chest and breathed a sigh of relief. He needed to make rent this month so it was a windfall running into Batman.

——

“Hey, Tim?”

Tim woke up from his Power Nap. “Huh?”

“Phantom’s complaining that Batman kept trying to adopt him.”

Tim blinked. “Uh.. what does that have to do with me?”

Danny stared at him, a patiently amused smile on his face. “Just in case the rumor about the Wayne’s sugar-daddy-into the Bats was a thing. Other than that, we might have to confront Batman to get him off of Phantom’s back. ”

“You… want to confront Batman.”

“Hey, man, Phantom’s a friend and it’s ride or die.” Danny snickered. It was literally die, with his Phantom side of things. He held two fists up, and wound them, like Popeye right after eating spinach or something. “And if Batman bothers Phantom, we ride at dawn.”

“Batman doesn’t come out unless it’s dark, though? Or for the Justice League.” Tim grinned. He mentally classified Danny under his “to go to” list. That’s where Bart, Bernard, Cassie, Kon, and Garfield were. If he starts shit, he could count on them to have his back and cause even more shit. Danny, wanting to fistfight Bruce over the man making Phantom uncomfortable? He absolutely is making that list.

“Then we ride at, like, dusk. Or uh, like 10PM. I gotta get my beauty sleep.”

“You’ll definitely need it,” Tim inconspicuously texted the group chat, which quickly blew up.

“Shut up,” Danny playfully shoved Tim. “Wait, can Batman even legally adopt? Isn’t being a vigilante illegal? And how can he adopt someone dead?”

Tim dramatically flailed and splayed over Danny’s carpeted living room. “Dunno about his identity,” he lied to Danny, like a liar. “But Gotham has a bunch of laws for the undead/restored to life people so there’s probably enough gray space there.”

Danny spluttered. “You guys have undead friendly laws?”

“Yeah, geht do you think Grundy just chills out? Plus, we have like a minor resurrection event every few years. It usually doesn’t stick but sometimes it does. Bruce pushed for those laws when Jason came back to life, except he doesn’t actually want people to know he’s like, alive.”

“Jason died?” Danny blinked. Well, that would explain the vibes. “Huh. So what’s up with his rank vibes then?”

“Rank vibes?” Tim pressed record on his phone.

Danny nodded. “Yeah, you know how Phantom’s got like a really chill green vibe?” Inwardly, Danny snickered at his pun. Chill. Yeah, he meant that very literally. “Jason’s got kind of a rank green vibe. He’s kind of stinky? Definitely never introduce him to Phantom.” Danny’s senses got worse in his ghost form.

“Jason regularly showers, though?!”

“Not smell! Like, a spiritual smell?”

“You can smell souls?!” Tim sat up. “Bro, you’re a meta?!”

“Uh.” Danny hesitated. “Yeah. I can smell souls. It’s a thing. Everyone from my town can do it.”

“What?!” Tim paused. “Wait, can Phantom smell souls?”

“Yeah. We’re, uh, from the same town.”

“Danny, what the fuck?”

“Hey, don’t look at me like that, you’re the one with a soul-sick brother! Not to mention, you’re kinda stinky too!”

“Hey!”

“Soul-stinky nerd man!”

——

“I stink?!” Jason spluttered out, extremely offended.

“The Lazarus pits. He’s most likely smelling traces of Lazarus pit on you, you imbecile.”

“We need to speak to Phantom. This instant.”

“I dunno, B. Danny sounded like he was gonna break your face if you bothered Phantom anymore.” Dick snickered.

“Yeah,” Tim chimed in, from his seat in front of the Bat-computer. “He was pretty serious.”

“Are we just gonna glaze over the fact that they’re from the same town?!” Stephanie exclaimed, practicing her moves on a training dummy.

“How does that even work? What does that mean? I thought Phantom was an immortal?” Duke asked.

“We also can’t rule out time-travel.” Barbara slammed her baton into a training dummy, twisting her wheelchair in an agile maneuver that left the dummy on the floor.

“No bothering Phantom.” Cass proclaimed.

“That’s quite right. You all have a warm dinner sitting above your cave and should it remain uneaten, I assure you that sherbet Sunday and crêpe Tuesday shall be canceled.” Alfred stepped in. The Bats, threatened, scrambled to ditch their gear and go upstairs.

#Danny: not another adoption!#Vlad and Bruce trying to adopt Danny even though he’s got parents:🤝#batman #danny phantom #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #dc x dp #bamf danny phantom #dpxdc #dcxdp #dcxdp crossover #sea cryptic! danny au

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nereidprinc3ss · 6 months

Text

do you believe me now?

in which fem!reader is insecure around spencer until she finally asks him to take matters into his own hands (literally)

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, fingering, softdom!spencer my sweet sweet beloved angel, sub reader, praise, you know he talks you through it, brief mention of drinking wine, i think that's it a/n: i hope u guys like this ! slightly different dynamic than my other stuff maybe but let me know what u think!! i love feedback and i love YOU!!!

“You’re so pretty.”

It’s the first thing Spencer has said since you two landed on his couch, exhausted from one of Rossi’s extravagant soirées. It was your first of many, if Spencer’s entire team is to be believed. More nights featuring Italian food and wine you could never afford don’t sound half bad—but for now you’re drained. You barely had the energy to kick off your heels and topple into Spencer’s lap five minutes ago. The silk dress still pools over his knees and your hair still falls in curls around your face. He brushes one aside as he continues.

“I mean—you always look beautiful. But I’ve never seen you all done up. You’re obscenely gorgeous.”

You groan awkwardly, burying your face in Spencer’s collar as your face heats. Taking compliments has never been your strong suit, especially from someone who you perceive to be so out of your league. The relationship you have with Spencer is relatively new, and sometimes you worry delicate; like one slip-up revealing the real you and he’ll go running. So far, though, he seems hellbent on proving you wrong.

His hand finds the bare skin of your arm, passing up and down gently. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“…I do.”

It’s unconvincing. Spencer scoffs.

“No, you don’t. You never believe me when I compliment you.”

The cadence of his voice is light enough, but it’s evident that there’s some genuine frustration there, lurking just under the surface.

Your head lolls over his shoulder and he angles his neck to look down at you. Hair falls over his eyes, and you’d fix it if he didn’t look so damn perfect. Everything about him looks intentional, like he was designed by someone who took great pride in their work. Not at all like you—a collage of features and spare parts you guess whatever force created you had lying around. Nothing about you feels on purpose. But that’s a hard thing to explain.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s impolite. It just feels disingenuous to accept compliments like that.”

Goosebumps arise on your arm where he touches you.

“You being polite isn’t what I’m concerned about. I just wish I could make you understand that I mean it when I compliment you. You’d know if I didn’t. I’m a terrible liar.”

That earns a giggle from you. Your boyfriend smiles, sparkling eyes darting over your face like he’s trying to bottle the sound, the memory—and you realize he probably is. What a terrifying thought. You look away, abashed once more.

“I’m a woman, Spencer. I’m not allowed to like myself. That’s the whole thing with Eve and the snake and the apple and whatever. Eternal inescapable shame.”

“Are you trying to justify your self-loathing by making it biblical? You know I’m the last person that would work on, right? Both as an agnostic-leaning-athiest and someone who thinks you’re beautiful and wonderful.”

Another groan claws its way from your throat as you slide down in embarrassment.

“You’re killing me here, Spencer.”

“What can I do to do to make you believe me?” he murmurs, carefully brushing tangles from your hair as you now rest practically prone across his lap. The ceiling light stretches behind him, haloing him in a soft glowing crown and making everything a bit more hazy and tolerable.

“It’s not your fight.” It’s meant to be playfully dramatic, but it hangs from your lips with a painful amount of earnestness.

“If it’s yours, it’s mine. That’s kind of the whole point of a relationship, right? Being a team?”

His fingers are nimble and warm between yours as you interlace them, steepling and bumping them together as you speak.

“Well, if you know so much, why are you asking me? It sounds like you know exactly what to do to make me magically love myself.”

A dangerous twitch plays at the corner of his lips as he gazes sleepily down at you.

“Oh, I have a few ideas. But I’m asking what you’d be comfortable with.”

“Whoa!” you blurt, giggling self-consciously, covering your face with your (and inadvertently one of his) hands. “Where did that come from?”

He smiles at your response to his mildly suggestive comment. “I lose my filter when I'm tired. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

You sigh gustily, dragging his hand down to fall over your collarbones. His fingers twitch over the delicate skin, like he’d graze it if your hand wasn’t weighing his down.

“No, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, you just… surprised me. I’m really bad at talking about this kind of thing.”

“Sex?”

You yelp, slinging your arm over your face and hiding in the crook of your elbow. “AH! Don’t say it!”

He laughs again, a little less reserved this time.

“What? You can’t even listen to me say the word?”

“No! Too scary!”

Eventually you peek out from under your arm to find Spencer still watching you. The humor has faded from his eyes and been replaced by a kind of serene calm. He brushes a lock of hair from your shoulder.

“Come here,” he says—a request more than a demand. With some wriggling and a bit of help, you manage to reorient yourself into a sitting position across his lap once more. His touch is warm even through the fabric of your dress when he kisses you, hand sliding over your waist before moving to trace your jaw and ending up on the back of your neck, urging you closer ever so slightly. You kiss him back without hesitation or restraint, as you delight in doing when he gives you the opportunity. What you may lack in experience and refinement, you make up for with affection and enthusiasm. He pulls away after a minute, much to your dismay, and brushes his thumb over your lips. For the first time, you think you see a hint of worry in his eyes. Guilt claws at your heart when he quietly asks, “you’re not scared of me, are you?”

“No!” You assure quickly, looping your arms around his neck. “No, it’s not you. You’re perfect and I’m sure you really mean all of the nice things you say. But I just… sometimes I worry I’ll scare you away once you realize I’m not as pretty or… good as you thought.”

“That’s impossible.”

Once more you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “You don’t know that.”

His hand begins running up and down your back, soothing your sympathetic nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could.

“I know that I really, really like you. And there’s not one part of you that I don’t find genuinely beautiful. I can’t imagine not feeling that way about you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you hum against him—a non-answer, but he doesn’t push it. Minutes go by quietly, ticking later into the night as he continues mindlessly rubbing your back and watching you breathe. “Do you want me to take you home?” He finally asks after a long while. Again, you don’t respond. He smiles. “I know you’re awake.”

The corner of your lip twitches as you attempt to suppress a grin. Spencer sighs.

“I guess if you’re already asleep you’ll just have to stay here. But it would be convenient if you’d sleepwalk to my bed so that I don’t have to carry you.”

When you begin stirring and sitting up (one eye cracked to navigate) he laughs, hands on your waist. “Would you look at that. Who knew she would be so suggestible in non-REM?” You snort as you push yourself to a standing position using Spencer’s shoulders to support yourself, and ruining the whole act. He smiles up at you like you’re something divine and lets his hands trail over your hips.

“I sleep with my eyes open.”

“Do you often have coherent conversations in your sleep, too?”

You shrug. “I’m full of surprises.”

“I’m sure you are,” he agrees, finally standing himself. “I’m assuming you don’t want to sleep in your dress?”

“I have shorts on underneath I can wear, but a shirt would be helpful.”

“Then we’ll get you a shirt.”

———————————————

Ten minutes later you’re in Spencer’s bathroom, wearing your shorts and one of his sweatshirts (you cannot imagine Spencer in a hoodie), and wiping black sludge from your eyes with makeup remover he claims was left by a friend after a particularly festive Halloween party. Hopefully he’s telling the truth—you can think of more dubious potential origins of the eye-makeup remover in his bathroom. No toothbrush—you use your finger and a generous amount of toothpaste until the red wine stains fade.

Spencer is fixing the pillows when you exit the bathroom. You hold up your hands which are completely obscured and then some by the thick fabric of his sweatshirt.

“Fits like a dream,” you say. A smile tugs at his lips as he finishes his task, before raising his eyes to you. The smile promptly fades and it’s like the sun disappearing behind an oppressive gray cloud. In an instant your stomach curdles and you feel like crawling out of your skin.

“…what?” you mumble, absolutely terrified that the thing he’d said was impossible just minutes ago has already happened. Without makeup, without a fancy dress, you’re just you, and maybe that’s not good enough.

“Uh…” He blinks, as if he’s buffering for a moment, before snapping back into action, and notably looking away from you. “It’s—it’s nothing. Do you, um—here, I tried to make it—“

“Stop. Just tell me what that was. You got all weird.”

Another pause—he looks back up at you reluctantly with a sigh.

“I did not get all weird.”

“Yes, you did. You’re still being weird. It’s freaking me out.”

He’s utterly unreadable, which drives you fucking insane, when he eventually says, “come here.” This time, you think with a chill as you shuffle on your knees across the bed to sit in front of him, it really sounds like a demand. Spencer grabs your face in his hands, studying you intently. “I know you think I’ve finally decided you’re hideously deformed, but it’s actually just the opposite. I’m trying to figure out how to keep things polite for you.”

Realization dawns on you and the swarm of new butterflies in your stomach. The usual molten gold of his irises has been encroached upon, masked by blown pupils. Your face gets hot and your voice caves when you speak.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he agrees quietly. “Do you believe me now?”

And to his credit, you really do. The hot skin, the vibrating cells in every fiber of your being, the racing heart—your body knows he means it. Part of you, the more confident, more desirous part, drags you closer to him, ghosts your lips over his. He chuckles.

“Now you’re getting brave?”

“Am I not allowed to kiss you?” you whisper, draping your arms over his shoulders.

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

The words make you shiver—the lowered, gravelly tone of his voice you’ve never heard before snaps your resolve and you lean into him, connecting your lips with a deep urgency. Spencer inhales sharply, hands wandering to your waist and bearing down firmly as you press against him. When you lean back, he follows you, insists without saying a word that you don’t stop kissing him. It sends a thrill down your spine and between your legs, which both gives you pause and eggs you on. In the end, after a very brief internal struggle, curiosity and desire win. You drop to the bed and drag him down with you—he, your willing follower, blindly searches for purchase on the plush comforter. Now he’s on top of you, legs slotted together so that his thigh is temptingly close to your core. Too shy to actually do what you want to do, you clamp your thighs around his and tilt your hips, desperate for friction. He exhales heavily, slowly pulling his lips from yours like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Fingers dig into the flesh of your hip, not enough to ache but enough to draw your attention to your movements.

“What are you doing?” he asks, firmly, but not like you’re in trouble—it’s a probing question. He’s trying to figure out if you’re aware of the way you’re nearly riding his leg.

“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly.

“You just told me you couldn’t even listen to me say the word sex,” Spencer reminds you. “You said it was too scary.”

A frustrated whine seems to catch him by surprise, and he laughs.

“That was a long time ago. I’ve matured since then.”

“Is that what happened?” he teases.

“Honestly, I’m just really turned on right now, please—" you cut yourself off, crashing your lips into his once more. And he almost relents.

Almost.

“Slow down.”

He ceases kissing you for a second time and you’re starting to really get annoyed.

“What?” you groan. “I thought you wanted this.”

His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheeks, demanding your attention.

“I want you. In every sense of the word. If you make a bad choice tonight and it means you don’t like me anymore tomorrow, that is the opposite of what I want. I’m not saying no. I’m just asking you to think about it for a second.”

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and attempting to steady your mind and see beyond the thick fog of lust. What you find is a (mildly surprising) complete lack of fear. You’re not scared, like you thought you’d be; you feel utterly safe underneath him, with his hands on you and his heartbeat against your chest. This is a kind of intimacy you want to have with him.

Your eyes open to reveal his, close enough you can see the tiny flecks of green. And so much warmth. Everything about him is warm.

“This is what I want,” you assert. “I promise.”

His gaze flits between yours for a moment, pulling the truth from your soul like he might be able to find an imperfection there. But you mean it—and he seems satisfied. He trusts you, like you trust him.

“Okay.”

A sigh of relief never quite finds completion before he’s kissing you again. Immediately the fire is stoked once more, the heat between your legs getting warmer when he experimentally pushes his thigh against you. You breathe into the kiss, pressing down on him and surrendering to the unconscious rhythm of your hips. He lets that go on for a minute or two until you’re so distracted that you can’t kiss him back.

Unexpectedly he pulls away, disentangling himself from your legs. You stammer in frustration until his fingers hook under the soft material of your shorts. “Hips up.”

Wordlessly you comply, succumbing to his gentle words and touch. He bows to kiss you as he slides the fabric down unhurriedly. Once the shorts are gone, he sits up, and carefully lifts one of your legs over his lap, gaze unabashedly glued between them.

“Eyes up here,” you try to joke, but it’s steeped in self-consciousness and your heart is pounding. He manages, stroking the inside of your knee with a thumb as he leans down again.

“But you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, before he’s kissing you again. “Just like I knew you would be.”

You whimper when his hand skates over your stomach, lower, and lower, and—

“Tell me one more time, sweetheart.”

Your plead is just as hungry and yearning. “Please, Spencer?”

It works for him.

When his knuckles brush over your clit, you forget to breathe. When they barely skim your entrance, collecting arousal to drag back upward, your brain malfunctions. It is not enough, maddeningly so, but when he finds a careful, introductory rhythm, it’s immediately bordering on too much, too good.

Your stomach tenses and you are surprised by your own sighs and hesitant gasps as you try to adjust to the feeling of someone else’s hand between your legs.

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs against your lips.

“Mhm,” you chirp. Slow but insistent circles elicit a cry that gets caught in your throat, melting into a hum. Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smile in Spencer’s voice.

“You’re sensitive, huh?”

“S—sometimes.”

He hums contemplatively.

“Sometimes? Can you tell me about that?”

You can’t hardly think around those gentle movements of his hand, let alone speak. He touches you like you’re something delicate. It’s torturous and perfect. But you try to answer anyway, managing to keep the stammering to a minimum.

“About what?”

“I want to know what you think about when you touch yourself.” The smooth words in tandem with an incremental increase in pressure earn you first real moan. Timid and unpracticed, but very genuine.

The answer comes immediately afterward; thoughtlessly and on a shuddering exhalation.

“You.”

“Yeah?” he smiles. “Good answer.”

Your eyes open fractionally to study his expression. You’d felt so much shame every time you’d imagined him in your bed late at night.

“Really?”

“Really. And now look at you. Letting me do it for you.” As if to remind you, he speeds up the motion of his hand. On instinct you bring your fingers to your lips as you moan through a closed throat, partly to stifle the noise and partly because you don’t know what to do with the hand that’s not gripping the duvet. “Do you only touch here?” His fingers slide down to your slick entrance and your hips buck, mourning the loss of stimulation. “Or do you touch here, too?”

You shake your head, breathing hard as he teases a finger around the soft place you’ve never really bothered to explore. “Never feels good when I try.”

“We’re gonna make it feel good, okay?”

You nod hesitantly, leaning back into the pillows when he kisses you again.

His lips are so distracting, so intoxicating you almost forget what he’s doing until he does it. It’s a foreign sensation—not entirely pleasant or unpleasant. For a moment or two your brows furrow as you focus on the feeling, worried that maybe you’re broken just as you thought—until you feel a slight stretch and you realize he’s pushing a second finger into you now. A kiss lands on your cheek when you grab his arm with a choked gasp, and he mutters, “deep breaths,” into your ear. “I know it’s new, honey, just breathe.”

“Fuck,” you whimper as you look down, and you didn’t realize you were going to say it until it’s already passed between your lips. Pressure begins melding with the promise of pleasure, and something about watching his hand move between your legs—the tendons flexing and wrist bending as he eases into what is clearly a perfected motion—arouses you so much you moan at the sight alone. Flipping pages is all you thought that hand was meant for. It’s like a secret revealed as you watch it do something so salacious, and to you.

A hot spark of pleasure flares deeper in you than you’ve ever felt. It catches and grows faster than you’d of thought—suddenly you can feel everything and it all feels better than you thought possible. Your jaw drops and a surprised huff of air blows a strand of your hair away.

“Oh my god,” comes your breathy little whisper, unprepared for and intimidated by how good he’s making you feel. Filthy noises come from between your legs and you clench around his fingers. You had no idea you could make those noises. You had no idea you could get so wet.

“Yeah, there we go.” His voice sounds a little further away now. You manage to tear your eyes away from all the action to his face. Much like you, he’s transfixed by the sight, brow furrowed and pretty lips parted in what could be concentration, or some sort of empathetic pleasure. His face has more color to it than usual and his breaths come heavier—it’s a very pleasant sight. Suddenly his fingers brush against a spot deep within you and your hips cant upward, a mewl pulled from the depths of your throat that has more control over you than you do it. Spencer’s eyes flash back to you, a grin playing at his lips. He does it again, looking right into your eyes, and you whine so pitifully your face flushes.

“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head firmly, arching your back when he unconsciously slows down. At your response his fingers begin rutting into you again, committing to that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “Of course not. You’re gonna take whatever I give you, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod. You’d do just about anything for him right at this second. Spencer holds an immense amount of power over you in this moment, and potentially in all future moments moving forward. But you trust him with it.

“You don’t have anything to prove to me. I just want you to feel good. You’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”

But it’s really not too much. It’s exactly right. Your verbal capacity is acutely limited right now, so you can’t exactly say it, but you lock eyes with him and whine shamelessly, hips twisting against his hand. You think he gets the message.

Hair falls over his face and he doesn’t fix it, opting instead to alternate his gaze between your cunt and face, cursing to himself lowly. You wouldn’t want him to stop and fix his hair—what you want is this, for him to keep pushing you toward that elusive edge and to keep looking at you like you put all the stars in the sky.

“Look at you, my pretty girl. I’m so proud of you. I know this isn’t easy. I know you were scared. Thank you for letting me do this, honey.”

It’s the unexpected tenderness of the words, perfectly misplaced in the context of the moment. It’s the devotion, the honesty in his eyes, shining through the haze of lust, which makes your stomach drop and all your muscles tense. A million thoughts jumble in your head, dizzying and thrilling and confusing, but mostly all you can think is Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. Is this how it always is? Your hands tangle in the sheets—and then all the thoughts vanish. Everything is warm and fuzzy and sparkling clean, no worries, no lingering thoughts, no self-awareness at all. It’s nirvana. It’s revelatory. It’s ridiculous that he did this all in under five minutes and you haven’t been able to do it once even with very concerted effort.

Slowly you float back into your body, breathing hard and watching through half-lidded eyes as Spencer gently pulls his hand away. Without him you feel weirdly empty and cold, like he should have been there all along. But his touch isn’t absent for long—he runs his hand over the bridge between your hips, little finger dipping into the crease of your thigh.

“That’s never… I’ve never done that before,” you admit, slurring your words only slightly.

His perfect features contort into a half-frown, half-smile.

“You’ve never had an orgasm?” You nod. His head tilts. “Really? You didn’t tell me that.”

“When would I have told you?” you laugh, finding his waist with your hand and encouraging him to settle his weight on you. He does, burying his face in your neck and exhaling heavily.

“Well?” you ask shyly, skating your fingers over his back. “Did I do it right?”

Spencer snorts, but presses a sickeningly sweet kiss to the curve of your neck.

“Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you admit, voice smaller than you’d have liked. He pushes himself up onto his forearms and kisses you softly.

“Then we both did it right.”

“But…” you stare up into his warm honey eyes, searching for any bits of hidden truth you can find. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, utterly unconcerned. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he agrees, “and I’ll say this because I know otherwise you’re going to worry about it forever.” He studies your face reverently for a moment, before parting his lips to speak. The words are slow to come, like he’s trying to figure the sentence out as he goes along. “You… are going to be, problematic, for me.”

Your whisper is almost as small as you feel under his heavy gaze. “What d’you mean?”

“I mean,” Spencer begins, voice low, “I think I liked that too much. Do you see why that’s troubling?”

The flame you thought had been quenched flickers back to life like a pilot light. Your thighs press together to alleviate a growing ache in a still sensitive area and you answer, “no,” with a small shake of your head. His thumb tenderly traces your jaw, ever-patient despite the fact that you’re obviously playing coy.

“Because I can’t have you all the time.”

“Yes you can,” you say without hesitation, though your eyes are fluttering. “You can have me whenever you want. Right now.”

He hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Not tonight. You’ve had enough. You’re tired.”

“I’m wide awake,” you slur, tangling a hand in his hair even as you lose the battle against your eyelids.

He sighs good-naturedly, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and brushing his lips over the delicate skin.

“You’re shockingly precocious.”

You hum.

“You just unleashed the beast. You’re like Doctor Frankenstein.”

He chuckles, sitting up and finding your shorts. You manage to be semi-helpful, lifting your legs at appropriate junctures as he tugs your clothing back on. “And you’re a nerd.”

“I don’t need to take that from you of all people.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Spencer says, and the smile in his voice makes you smile, a quarter asleep as he leans over to turn off the lamp on your side of the bed before tugging the covers over both of you.

He pulls you close in the dark, releasing a deep sigh as you curl into him. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, his arms warm around you. You can imagine making a home for yourself here. And you don’t know if he’s thinking it, but you hope he is, as you are silently repeating to yourself with every beat of his heart;

I love you

I love you.

part two

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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blondedmuse · 9 months

Text

MISERY BUSINESS

felix catton x reader

synopsis. ꩜ based off of this request.

author’s note. ∿ i need this man so bad it’s not even funny. smut (fingering, oral f receiving, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, praise, marking, voyeurism I guess idk) it's been a while since I wrote something on this account and its not proofread so be nice, also a bit of a rushed ending??

word count. ⨾ 2.7k

The harsh thud of the car door closing awoke you from your mid-day reverie by the lake. The sun was beaming down on you almost bare body, only covered by a bikini. It was hotter than usual and everyone else at saltburn seemed to share your complaints. The heat aside the weather was pleasant—Felix on the other hand looked less than.

He looked annoyed, almost upset, even from far away. When he exited the car Oliver and Felix went their separate ways, Oliver looking just as unhappy. You wondered what happened in just few hours that could’ve soured their moods but it was only a few moments later when Felix approached you, grinning in attempt to hide the scowl he was dressed in minutes earlier.

Once he reached your figure he towered over your body as you laid on the dock. Having well acknowledge the heat now and your lack of clothing he discarded his shirt and quickly lowered his frame over yours so that his was barely hovering over yours.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

He shook his head with a small grin. “nothing.”

You scoffed. “Liar.” He raised his brows.

“What’s wrong?” You prodded again. He dropped his head in hesitation, his lip between his teeth as he contemplated telling you what happened on his and Oliver’s road trip, what he felt, what the truth was—but he couldn’t. Not yet anyways.

He looked up at you. “I- Oliver just said something and it hurt me more than I thought it would.”

You sat up, the two of you adjusting your bodies as you did so. You stared intently at his face, watching how his eyes glossed over and how he could barely hold your gaze. It was a different demeanor than what other people knew, one of the more human parts that made people fall in love with him.

You lifted his face towards yours. “I’m sorry.” The silence that followed after your statement determined he wasn’t interested in sharing anything deeper than the surface of the matter.

He looked back at Saltburn then back at you. “Don’t be.”

You scrunched your brows. “Hm?”

“I don’t know,” He said earnestly. “It’s not your fault, I should’ve listened to you earlier. You kept saying you had a bad feeling about him and I didn’t really take it to heart…til’ now I guess.”

“Oh, Felix,” You sighed, cupping his face, your hand over his jaw subliminally believing that it would release the tension he held there.

“He’s out tomorrow.” His hand caressed yours as it rested on his cheek.

“Really?”

“Really.” He confirmed. “Maybe now I can get you, alone, yeah?” His body pushed yours back down on the doc so he was hovering over you once again.

"Felix," You laughed. "Always distracting me, aren't you."

"No 'm not," he mumbled, nipping at your earlobe. "You weren't doing anything important anyways."

"I was going to ask another question," You giggled.

"Okay," He answered, pushing himself so that he kneeled above you, a knee on either side of your torso. "What?"

When he was playful like this he was such a beautiful sight in front of you, you almost felt bad asking him a question as if you were ruining the mood.

"You're not really kicking him out are you? I feel bad."

He sighed. "I am kicking him out and you shouldn't feel bad, he’s in the business of misery it’s almost like his job to make people feel bad." He crawled back over you once again, something heavier within him now. You could see it in the way he clenched his jaw, his clouded eyes. His mouth made its way back to your body, this time trailing down your stomach, beginning to leave marks you knew you’d have to hide at the party tonight.

“Felix,” You frowned. “I just-”

He cut you off. “Enough, alright. He was a creep anyways, you said it yourself,” He told you and you nodded, internally agreeing.

“He’s going home after the party.”

The feel of his voice as he mumbled into your skin was enough for you to stop thinking about the situation for the moment. It wasn’t until nightfall you were reminded of Oliver's unrelenting presence—it was his birthday after all. Still, no matter where you were in Saltburn, you couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes upon you, you couldn’t help but feel that you were never alone.

"Can we go somewhere a little more private?" You asked Felix and he hardly registered the question. His hands up your dress the lights were dim, colored strobe lights bleeding in from the outside. The room was close to empty but the music could be heard throughout the house. You could ask him anything to anyone and it wouldn’t really mean anything—and it didn't help that the two of you were getting dizzy on champagne.

So, you didn't ask you question again but your eyes flickered to the maze that could be seen from the window and he understood what you wanted.

"Whatever you want, angel." He grinned, pulling his hands away to grab yours, taking you to the garden.

You scrunched your brows together. "I should be calling you that y'know."

He laughed with you. "You have wings too."

"But I'm a fairy"

"Close enough." You laughed to yourself as you and Felix walked through the house and towards the maze. There was a bottle of champagne in your left, Felix’s hand in your right, grounding you with each step. The more the time passed the less ideal it felt to walk in heels—you thought of ditching them all together. Still, they held the integrity of your costume, matching the chosen Midsummer Night's Dream theme. You'd dressed up as a fairy, donning flowers in your hair and a frilly slip dress, the costume obviously incomplete without wings.

Your heels pierced through the dirt once you’d made it to the grass, your feet sinking slightly with each step. You groaned to yourself, not going unnoticed by Felix.

“You okay?” He asked, stopping to turn to you.

“My heels,” You answered.

He furrowed his brows. “What about them?”

“Well…” You hesitated. “They’re killing my feet and they keep sinking into the dirt. They’re gonna get dirty.”

“We’ll we can’t have that know can we,” Felix replied, picking you in on fell swoop, your body now in his arms, your legs dangling from his grasp.

"Felix," You giggled his named through broken laughs, surprised with the immediacy of his action.

"What? You know I'd do anything for my best girl," He told you, returning the wide lipped smile on your face.

"I didn't ask you anything."

"You didn't have to."

You went limp in his arms as you sighed, comparable to an act of defiance as if you were annoyed, as if he did something wrong; but you knew he couldn't if he tried. He shook his head but the smirk on his lips was undeniable as he carried you the rest of the way to the center of the maze.

"You're insufferable, won't even let me carry you," He carped, putting you down and letting you lean against the cold metal of the statue as you put the bottle of champagne on the ground beside you.

"I did and you love me," You retorted, inching your face towards his, leaving a sliver of space between your lips. The bronze on your back that chilled your skin was a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Felix's body, from the warmth of the air around you. It was intoxicating, his breath on your skin and the breeze of the wind. Looking up at him you could see that carnal glimmer in his eyes when his hands roamed your body only moments earlier, and this morning on the dock. It was something you craved and that was something he knew and savored the fact.

"Well I can't deny that," He smirked before closing the gap between the two of you. You could feel the indent of his grin as he kissed you, his lips turned up into a wicked smile, something more depraved, but still, nonetheless, Felix.

"Why don't I finished what I started earlier, love?" He asked against you not bothering to pull away and you only moaned in approval. His lips traveled from yours to the lobe of your ear so he knew you could hear him clearly.

"You need to use your words, darling."

"Yes," You keened, wanting—needing more than what was being given.

"Good girl," He hummed, his hands drawing down the straps of your dress before they traced down the rest of your body all the way to your thighs. He hooked his hands under them, lifting you to sit on the base of the statue.

"This okay?" He asked, looking into your eyes for conformation, the raise of his eyebrows encouraging it verbally as well.

"Yeah," You sighed breathelessly. "But I still need you."

He smirked again. "Let me fix that then."

Felix's hands gently lowered the front of your dress, exposing your breasts and taking one of them into his mouth, moaning around it.

"You're beautiful, darling" He mumbled, groaning as his tongue slid over your hard nipple. His words were genuine but you couldn't help but feel a little cheesy, kicking your foot playfully at his leg and you felt his erection, hard as you did so.

"And you know that already," He chuckled, sucking your nipple more aggressively. "But it's true." His words made you ache with impatience, whine with desire. Felix pulled back before lowering himself to his knees, his eyes not daring to leave yours. Only when he licked an agonizingly slow, sloppy stripe against your clothed cunt his eyes focused on the sight in front of him.

You breath hitched in anticipation as he pulled down your panties with his teeth and taking them off, shooting you a wink as he pocketed them. Immediately after his gaze moved back to your wet pussy, wasting no time in tasting you.

He dropped his head and his tongue slithered to your clit, flicking the pearl a few times before wrapping his lips around it. Your core was hot against his face, your scent, heady and electrifying; he could spend hours between your legs. Your hand went to claw at his hair, your fingers entangling with his brown locks.

"Ri-Right there," You breathed, attempting your best to string a coherent thought together, but it was hard when one of his hands massaged the outside of your thigh while the other came up to your empty hand. Your fingers interlocking, his thumb kneading the side of your palm as he sucked harder at your clit. You squeezed it as you released strangled moans, strained from the attempt to stay quiet.

"You can be louder, love. No one else is going to hear you except me." You didn't believe him, swearing you heard something in the bushes move along with the fact that there was a full blown party happening in his house right now; but you couldn't help yourself either.

He slipped two fingers into you, eliciting a lewd moan with ease. Your legs pressed together and he almost felt suffocated at the momentary feeling of being entirely enveloped by you—but it was exactly what he wanted.

"Oh God, Felix," You fingers digging deeper into his scalp and he groaned.

His movements were mindless and uncalculated, but they had you reeling each time. He knew your body like a book, where to touch to have your head spinning. The longer he spent between you legs, the louder your moans got, your hips helplessly bucking up to meet his fingers and mouth.

"Atta' girl," he murmured against you core. "Cum for me, love, I can feel you squeezing me."

Your movements got sloppier, raunchier, as your orgasm approached swiftly. It struck you like a bolt of lightning, your body overtaken with rapture and relief. Felix watched as you come down from your high, his fingers still working you over.

"You did so well f'me," He coaxed, finally removing his fingers from your core and scaling up your body, his moving to cling to yours and swallowing any soft moans you had left.

"Need you," You whispered as his lips nipped at yours.

"Need me or my cock?" He chuckled, drunk on you.

"You know what I mean," You replied, hands already to undo the buckle of his belt.

He stopped you before you could go any further. "I know, I just want to hear you say it, darling."

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, the smile on your lips indicating otherwise. His brows darted up, goading you on.

"Please?" He pressed and you exhaled in pleasure, in desire.

"Need you inside me, Felix." The corners of his mouth turned up into that smug smirk you've known for so long and he nodded in thanks.

"As you wish, my love."

He was rock hard, heavy and hot in your hands, precum dripping from his tip. You were just as wet and desperate as he reached down as he lined himself up with your entrance, sheathing himself inside you without another moment of hesitation. His arms caged your body under him as he hissed at the feeling. He gave you a a moment, letting you adjust to his size, his cock completely filling you up as he was buried deep inside of you.

"You're so tight," He praised as he kissed you, moaning into your mouth as he began to move. The pace of his hips started slow, gently rolling into yours, your clit brushing up into his pelvic bone at just the right angle. Felix tuned into how your moans falter when he hit just right spot, the sensation going straight to your core.

"Feels so good," You keened as you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you.

"Yeah? Tell me about it," He asked as he increased his pace, the speed of his pounding becoming relentless, evoking obscene noises from you. You wrapped your legs around his torso, heels digging into his back as you gave him the perfect angle to go even deeper as his cock hit your g-spot repeatedly.

You were sure your nails were going to leave a mark as they clawed into his shoulders while his hand slowly travelled to your core, rubbing fast circles on your swollen clit to help you reach your climax. You clenched around him in a manner so desperate, cunt fluttering around his cock. You didn’t have time to tell him you were cumming, screaming and sobbing as ecstasy hit you like a brick wall. You arched your back as his name fell from your lips again and again like a hopeless prayer. He followed suit seconds later, soaked with you as buried his head into the crook of your neck. He came with a strident cry as he bottomed out, filling you to the brim. You went limp under him as he panted weakly with his voice hoarse in your ear.

Still hazy from your climax your eyes widened as you saw Oliver walk into the maze. Felix didn't hear him, but he took note of your expression.

"What? Are you okay? What's-"

You interrupted him. "Oliver." Felix's head whipped around to the man standing behind him.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Felix exclaimed and you pulled your legs from his torso and fixed your dress. Felix pulled up his trousers, buckling up his belt before fully turning to face Oliver.

"What are you doing here, mate? I mean, really?" You didn't say anything, composing yourself as Felix stood in front of you. Oliver opened his mouth to speak but Felix cut him off before he could explain himself.

"Actually I don't wanna fucking know, I've seen enough." He sighed and looked back to check on you.

“I think you should go,” You said to Oliver. “Before you do anything more to embarrass yourself.” The words were harsh as they came out of your mouth but you didn’t know what else to say. You watched as he walked away with his shoulders slumped, no doubt some guilt weighing them down.

“Are you alright?” Felix asked you, turning back around. You nodded still processing what had just happened as it seemed the champagne had worn off a while ago. You grabbed the bottle off the ground and held it up, offering it to Felix with a smile he didn't hesitate to reciprocate back.

"To Oliver's fucking party!" You laughed confused as ever, taking a swig of the bottle before he grabbed it from you.

"To Oliver's stupid fucking party."

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