#Just…. Think about it and tell me how ya feel and I might write something about it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bluzebub19 · 6 months ago

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I have a request for how the Arcane characters (Viktor, Jayce, Jinx, Vi, Heimerdinger, Ekko) look so that the reader can access their cuteness. Maybe they are doing or saying something to the reader and the reader suddenly starts hugging and petting them, calling them cute. How would they react to this?

Note: So... I'm the only one who thinks Heimerdinger is really cute. Why aren't there fanfics with him? Mysteries of life..

Arcane characters being called cute by their s/o while they're working

Writer's note: Thanks for requesting! It took longer than I expected because I kept deleting some of the dialogue from how cheesy and cringe it sounded lmao. Heimerdinger is not on my list of characters I write for, but I figured I'll write him this one time. I hope you don't mind that I also added Mylo, cuz why not?

Request/s: Open!

Warning/s: Get a dentist. This is some tooth-rotting fluff. Not proofread and english isn't my native language.

Character/s: Viktor, Jayce, Jinx, Vi, Ekko, Heimerdinger and Mylo

● Viktor tends to get lost in his work, mumbling equations or sketching out blueprints for his projects. You find this incredibly endearing, but not when he gets so absorbed that he forgets to eat or sleep.

● If you suddenly hug him or call him cute, he’ll freeze in shock at first. He blinks up at you as if you just said something in a language he doesn’t understand. Then, his cheeks will flush a light pink, and he’ll chuckles softly. “Cute is... not a term I hear often. But thank you."

● Over time, he grows more comfortable and secretly enjoys the affection. He may even lean into it, but he’ll never outright admit it. Instead, he might deflect with a shy smile and, “You should focus on more important matters."

● Yeah no, that's a sign for you to keep doing it.

● Jayce is the golden boy—confident, charming, and ridiculously handsome. He likes to appear professional and put-together, but you know him well enough to see through that exterior to the dorky, hardworking man beneath.

● When you hug him out of nowhere while he cooks and call him cute, he blinks for a second but chuckles as he turns to look at you. “Cute? Babe, I’m going for ruggedly handsome and sweet here. But I'll take it."

● Still, he's flattered and loves the affection you give him. And unlike Viktor, he's not afraid or shy to show you he wants more of it. He might pull you closer and say, "You're one to talk." He's a romantic and albeit cheesy guy.

● Now, you probably might be thinking about why and how is he cooking, but that's for another headcanon! (I just realized how I'm not even sure whose side am I on. Can he cook?? Cuz I feel like he can. But I also see him burning food-)

● Jinx, as we all know, is pure chaos, always working on something explosive or messing around. She has a habit of humming and singing off-key to herself while she works, which makes you think she’s oddly cute in her own... quirky way. To be honest, it’s hard not to find her enthusiasm contagious, even if it’s a little dangerous.

● One day, you catch her doing exactly that while painting her trademark designs on one of her grenades. The sight just makes you smile as you walk up and wrap your arms around her, telling her, “You’re so cute when you’re focused like this,” or something of the sort.

● She’ll throw her hands up and turn to look at you, trying to play off your compliment as a joke. “Woah, you might be crazier than me!" She grins and laughs softly, before making her voice sound more gruff, "Ya buttering up the author nightmares with your mooshy stuff!”

● But after her initial over-the-top reaction, she’ll soften. “Fine, soak it all in.” She shrugs and continues working. But deep down, she really loves the affection and she's getting more and more attached to you. You're giving her the kind of love that she thinks she never deserved in her life, so she really appreciates these little things you do. She might even snuggle up to you later, claiming it’s to “soak in all this ‘cute’ energy.”

● Oh, by the way, she'll make this happen a lot more often. By how, you ask? Well, by doing the same thing to you, of course! It becomes a little challenge betweem the two of you who calls the other one cute first and catching them off guard with it.

● Vi is all tough love and sass, but there’s a soft side she shows only to the people she really cares about. You notice this when she’s being protective or just in those peaceful moments when you're both alone together.

● If you call her cute, she’ll raise an eyebrow and smirk. “Cute? Babe, I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

● Later, she’ll definitely tease you about it, saying something like, “So, how’s it feel dating the cutest person in Zaun?” or "Am I still cute?" with a playful grin. She'll be teasing you and making you smile with that while she's half naked and flexing her biceps (she knows you love them), or when she just got done with a fight and is still holding her gauntlets.

● She loves it, don't let that teasing fool you.

● Heimerdinger is an adorable bundle of wisdom and fluff. You often catch him rambling about science with such enthusiasm that you can’t help but smile. Look at him! He's just adorable!

● One day, as he’s showing you a tiny contraption he just finished, you can’t help but reach out and pet his fluffy head, saying, “You’re the most cutest genius ever.”

● Heimerdinger chuckles, his mustache twitching with amusement. “Ah, well, I suppose I do have a certain charm about me, don’t I?”

● He pretends to be unaffected, but you notice the way his tail swishes slightly when you hug him. “I must say, your affection is quite... energizing! Perhaps I should study its effects further.”

● From then on, he might start subtly seeking out your affection—like casually leaning into your hand when you pet him or “accidentally” bumping into you while working.

● Ekko is talking to you about his plans for the Firelights while sketching upgrades for their hoverboards.

● You were quietly admiring him, the way his eyes light up and the focused furrow of his brows, when you suddenly blurt out, “You’re so cute when you’re focused.”

● He freezes for a second, then looks at you with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “Cute? Me?” He grins, a soft laugh escaping. “You sure you’re not talking about yourself there?”

● He rubs the back of his neck, trying to act nonchalant, but the smile gives him away.

● “You’re not getting away with saying that,” he teases, leaning in to nudge you lightly with his shoulder. He goes back to doing his work before playfully adding, “But if you keep looking at me like that, I might just start believing it.”

● It's these little things that matters. These moments, even if simple, it gives him hope and motivation to make the world a better place. The way his eyes soften when you look at him in that moment, and how he lets his guard down just enough to show you he cares — it’s clear that, while he teases, he loves the attention, and he loves you even more for it.

● Dude's got lines fr fr

● Mylo has always been the type of guy who had a sarcastic, sassy remark ready. We all know that from how he treated Powder.

● When you suddenly hug him and call him cute, he freezes for a second, unsure of how to react. “Cute? Me?” He scoffs, trying to play it cool, but it's very obvious he's a bit flustered by it. “Out of all the compliments you could’ve picked, you went with cute? I’m more like... cool, and handsome.” He throws a dramatic, exaggerated pose, trying to hide his nervousness.

● Despite his teasing, there's a small, pleased grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He tries to act nonchalant, but the way he keeps glancing at you shows how much he’s secretly enjoying it.

● “Seriously, though. I’m cool, alright?” he continues, trying to regain his confidence. “I don’t do cute. But, uh... thanks. I guess.” He says softly as he shrugs, clearing his throat.

● Later on, when no one’s watching, you might catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, a small smile on his face, clearly still flattered.

Can you guys guess which is my favorite based on how long their headcanons are

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donvampiro · 26 days ago

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hello! I was wondering if you could write something with the monster trio+law with a clairvoyant reader where she can’t tell ghosts from real people and she sees ghosts on there ships and just starts freaking out cause they still retain the look of when they died. Please and thank u!

hii Anon! hope you’re doing well :) this is a very interesting concept! i really enjoyed writing these HCs. careful though because, as stated in my rules post, it’s max 3 chars when it comes to requests. but maybe you’re new to my blog so it’s totally fine Anon, don’t worry ❤️ i still added Law because i feel like this request really fits him indeed hehe. in any case, hope this post will meet your expectations! Love <3

MASTERLIST - Welcome

***

'Shadows of the past'

Monster trio & Law x (clairvoyant) fem!reader

Warning: mention of death & mourning, physical injuries & blood. contains some spoilers (Marineford ; Dressrosa) as well btw

Monkey D. Luffy

tbh i think Luffy would find your powers kinda cool at first, like he wouldn’t immediately get the measure of your concerns and the harm that your visions might cause you, particularly in their tragic, even traumatic nature

every time he'd hear you scream or saw you shudder, seized by fear because you thought you were meeting a “real” person whose body was more or less in good condition, he’d quickly comfort you, offering you a big smile and patting your back or your shoulder with a gentleness that is always reserved for you.

‘c’mon, (y/n), no need to be afraid! think about saying hello to those people instead. oh! say hello to them from me too!’

Luffy’s carefreeness about your natural gifts wouldn’t last forever though. it would only be after a very concrete event that he’d realize the weight on your shoulders that your power can be on a daily basis. in short, he would need a kind of trigger.

maybe it would happen while you’re both sitting on the deck of the Sunny, taking some time for yourselves and stargazing after a nice meal, a little celebration, who knows. smiling, Luffy seems somewhat lost in thought though. his hand is soft yet slightly calloused as it envelops yours in a comfortable silence; but as you’d turn to him, you couldn’t hold back a gasp, more vocal than you’d have liked, and Luffy would instantly turn to you, alerted.

‘(y/n)? what’s up with ya? everything’s okay?’

it was the first time you saw that while looking at your captain for some reason. you saw him, yes, next to Luffy — this bloodstained individual, covered in wounds, and whose cheekbones, although magnificently freckled, could not, however, soften the sight of his fiercely pierced abdomen. his mouth is dripping with blood but his smile is peaceful as he looks at Luffy, before your eyes meet.

your own heart drums facing his stopped one. you know who he is. of course you do. how could you not know? Luffy has told you about him so many times, in that voice that now made you question whether to answer, tell your captain what you're seeing or not. but your ragged breath, bulging eyes, and the light film of sweat coating your face leave you little room for hesitation as Luffy grabs your shoulder and shakes it lightly.

‘hey (y/n). are you seeing things again? tell me.’

reveal the truth in a low voice and you’ll see Luffy’s eyebrows furrow, in an expression that mixes all the emotions in existence. his eyes are lost in the void of his thoughts for a second before looking all around him, searching and calling his brother, finding you.

‘he’s here?! like, where? behind me? can you talk to him? wait, do you think he can still eat like, real food? or ghost food? i’m sure Sanji knows how to make ghost food anyway. i mean, we could have another meal so he can be with us! oh, and tell him that i—’

he talks a lot and his eyes are glassy, with a tearful glint that doesn’t escape your gaze despite his huge smile. you stifle your own sobs, feeling the weight of Luffy’s grief as you see Ace’s ghost disappear into the starry night, in a painfully soft gaze. you shake your head in a sorry sigh, and your captain almost automatically stops speaking. his smile fades away — there’s no need to say more. he contemplates you for a moment, before lowering his head slightly and caging you in a long, silent hug.

that night, Luffy understood the weight of your powers, understood your fears. the ashes of the past were indeed frightening.

Roronoa Zoro

really, Zoro can’t help but be puzzled every time he sees you freaking out like this, shouting about how there’s such and such corpses wandering on the deck of the ship or the streets of some island where you and the crew made a stopover. the swordsman would never delve too deeply into your emotions when they’re negative; not that he’s not interested, but that he prefers to keep things simple between you two and avoid making you overthink.

still, he would always try to reassure you, and he’d do so assertively — without digressions or innuendos — but always wanting to make things easier for you and so that you’d no longer have to worry about seeing these deceased people, more alive than ever in your eyes though.

‘there’s no reason to be so scared, (y/n). these guys are no longer among us, they won’t hurt you. i wouldn’t let them anyway.’

his tone was gruff, but you knew better. Zoro was always protective of you, and you were grateful, but it wasn’t that simple. meeting lifeless gazes, looking at bloodied, weakened, sick or whatever bodies — you were seeing bereavement and pain personified all around you, almost every day, and you couldn’t shake your fears, despite your best efforts and the swordsman’s reassuring words.

this is why your sleep would be regularly stolen by these bloodstained specters wandering around, and today would be no exception, even if you’re snuggled up to Zoro — who seems deeply asleep. it was he who had suggested a nap together, to calm you down, but obviously the task was more difficult than expected.

despite your eyes being firmly closed, sealed so as not to see these presences you were feeling, you couldn't help but fidget, scared. in order to calm yourself down, you decided to get up and go get a glass of water in the kitchen. you stepped out of the cabin and the air was mild. everything was (very) surprisingly peaceful, and you took the time to enjoy the moment as you filled your glass, before slowly heading back to the cabin.

but as you open the door, you’re greeted not by Zoro’s sleeping figure, but by a bloodstained and destroyed body, which finally passes through you to continue on its way. terror makes you drop your glass and it crashes right into the cabin entrance as you scream.

the swordsman is jolted from his sleep and instantly turns to you, his gaze alert as he reaches for his swords — but you stop him, pointing at the broken glass dotting the floor; and your shaky voice immediately makes him understand what happened.

Zoro sighs and leaves the bed for a moment to come and get you, dodging the shards of glass before finally picking you up and carrying you, so that you both collapse on the bed, never breaking your embrace. he can feel your heart pounding in your chest as he whispers in your ear.

‘saw sordid stuff again?’

his voice is calm as your respective eyes meet. his gaze is stern, focused, attentive. you nod, and it’s in a — sweet, only for you — whisper that he concedes that it can’t be easy every day. maybe you need to talk about it more than he thought, after all. Zoro tightens his embrace around you, petting your hair as he lets a comfortable silence settle, before questioning you in a solemn yet uncertain tone.

‘hey, by any chance… have you ever seen, like, in your visions… a young girl with a sword?’

Vinsmoke Sanji

Sanji would be a great listener and always there to reassure you when your visions frighten you. he would empathize and understand the weight your powers can represent; so you can count on him to give you all the affection and consideration you need.

he is supportive. his goal would be to make sure that you don’t feel alone in the middle of all these more or less bloodstained ghosts, so that, whenever fear seizes you, he can be there to comfort you and bring you back to the world of the living.

in that sense, it would probably lead you to be more comfortable with your powers and to be able to talk about them more openly. you would be less afraid. and it’s sitting in the kitchen while Sanji is busy at his stove that you’d talk about this and that, your voice a sweet melody for the attentive ears of the cook.

‘you know, i’ve already seen ghosts around you.’

– ‘ah? they should be more interested in you, (y/n)-chwan, you’re so much prettier.’, he’d reply, and you could hear the smile on his face.

you couldn’t stifle a laugh. with Sanji, things always seemed less dramatic, less scary. it was as if you could face all the troubles in this world but you could always get back up.

your laughter was nevertheless cut short by the presence you felt. you couldn’t help but shudder slightly and your eyes, riveted on the cook’s busy hands so far, eventually lifted towards a ghost behind him. this very ghost was also watching with great interest the recipe being prepared, all the while smiling tenderly.

‘there's one behind you right now, by the way.’

– ‘really?’, he chuckled, without taking his eyes off the vegetable he was cutting. ‘and what do they look like? not too… damaged, i hope.’

– ‘it’s a lady. a very beautiful lady.’

Sanji slowed down his cutting, his mind troubled for a moment. he certainly knew how to appreciate women, all women, but something inside him told him that this woman was different. what interest could the ghost of a dead woman possibly have in him? Unless…

‘(y/n), could you please… describe her?’

he had put down his knife, and the uncertain tone of his voice encouraged you to respond positively to his request; nodding then describing as best you could the woman standing next to him, looking at him with a soft smile.

as you spoke, the cook’s features tensed up, and you could see that he was holding back just about everything that came up to him. words, tears, everything. so you ventured to ask a few questions.

‘do you know this person?’, you’d ask timidly.

and maybe it was now up to you to lend an ear to Sanji’s sensitivity.

bonus:

Trafalgar D. Water Law

talking to Law about your powers would be complicated at first. in fact, he would have a hard time understanding why you would be so moved by every vision you have when it’s “just” part of your abilities. he would have a hard time understanding why you would continue to be afraid even though you’re aware of these powers of yours. everything would seem so… irrational to him.

You were coping with the situation as best you could — if he couldn’t understand, you weren’t going to force him. still, that was before you noticed this person. an individual that, as usual, you had taken for a living person, before noticing their bruised appearance and their spectral nature. this person who followed Law almost everywhere.

it was embarrassing, frightening at times, because this ghost’s presence was unpredictable and random, so you often found yourself jumping out of your skin and screaming in the middle of a conversation when they appeared, with Law looking at you in perplexity.

so you had decided to avoid Law a little, just to spare yourself a little, and to avoid having to broach this subject which you already had the feeling he wouldn’t be very receptive to.

however, Law, for his part, was actually very receptive to the fact that you were avoiding him. he saw it perfectly, and also felt that there was something you wanted to tell him, but didn’t dare to, or something like that. he felt lost about it: you knew you could tell him anything, right? or, had he done something that made you no longer feel comfortable talking to him?...

Law would confront you directly about it, not wanting to beat around the bush; and his heart was beating a little faster than he anticipated as he saw you searching for words.

‘well, i… i see… i often see a tall man around you, his face made up, with a large black coat, he’s very injured, with blood all over his face and… so… it makes me…’

– ‘“it makes you” what? what am i supposed to do?’

something snapped in his mind and his reply came out on its own, in a way harsher tone than he would have liked. Law’s grip on his nodachi tightens as he frowns. he looks hurt by this information over which you actually have no control. you shake your head — you knew he wouldn’t understand anyway, that he would only see your visions and fears as irrational, as always. you look away.

‘... nevermind.’

you start walking away, and Law runs his hand over his face with a heavy sigh, trying to process what just happened, and realizing his words were far too harsh. facing the loss of those who matter to us is already a trial. but seeing death walking around every day, even in moments that should give us rest… yeah, he too would freak out facing those kinds of visions eventually.

‘(y/n), wait’, he calls, catching up with you quickly. his voice remains monotonous, but you still hear the softness he always reserves for you. ‘i worded my question poorly. i… yeah, i think we should indeed discuss all this.’

you turn to him, your respective gazes seeking each other, and in his eyes lay torment as well as the apologies he can’t seem to voice. you nod, and he mutters.

‘i will try to understand.’

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insomniadreamzz · 6 months ago

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Hey, how are you? I wanted to request G!P Jinx x Reader. Imagine that the reader is Jinx's girlfriend and they have unprotected sex and then Jinx gets the reader pregnant? Something like the reader being afraid to tell Jinx and she freaks out about it and stuff like that… Could there also be smut at the end and fluff too? Please, I've never seen that around here 😮‍💨

Helloo! Thank you I am perfectly fine. Today is my birthday and I am actually busy but I LOVE this request so I had to write it down today 👀

———

My everything

G!P Jinx x Fem!Reader

Smut, mentions of pregnancy, fluff

The last days you felt kinda off, your emotions were like a rollercoaster and you got more sensitive. Jinx realised this too, making her feel a little worried about you. Since she had mental issues herself, she always questioned if she did something wrong, making the situation between you both get a little more complicated.

„Is everything okay my love? It’s your third plate of food today. I don’t mind it at all but…I am worried if something is bothering you. You know you can tell me anything right? You do trust me do you?“ Jinx asked as you were about to finish your food, your gaze moving up to look at her, a little smile on your face. „Of course I do trust you. You are my girlfriend after all. I just feel more hungry than usual these days, nothing to worry about.“ You tried to reassure her but she felt something was still off.

The next days your behavior went on, you also felt nauseous out of nowhere which made you realise that you might be pregnant. Last time you and Jinx got intimate you didn’t use protection which was a little silly of both of you but to be honest you didn’t really realise she would get you pregnant that fast. Whatever…if it was true and you carried her child, how to tell her? You suddenly worried about her reaction, close to panic but before your mind will make you freak out you decided to make a test first and then you will have to figure something out.

Thankfully Jinx wasn’t in her hideout today, she went out to probably blow something up again. You always had to worry about her when she wasn’t around but right now you were glad she wasn’t home so you could do the test without her knowing and just how you thought, it was positive. „Fuck…“ You cursed under your breath, feeling a little overwhelmed. Of course you were happy since having a family with your girlfriend was your biggest dream. But so sudden? It just made you think about a lot of stuff like are you even ready for it? Is Jinx ready for it? Will she be happy? Or will she be upset? You didn’t know since you never talked about that topic before.

One thing was clear. You had to tell her. Jinx already blamed herself for not treating you right anymore to explain your behavior. You noticed her anxiety getting worse these days but now you had a valid explanation for your latest behavior. Maybe that would calm her down and stop blaming herself?

There was not much time of thinking about how to explain to Jinx as you heard her walking into the hideout, a happy smile on her face as she catched your sight, you quickly hiding the test behind your back, wishing you already removed it and didn’t stare at it all the time while having a little discussion with your own mind about the result. „Hey toots!!“ She said with her usual wuirky behaviour you loved so much but she did notice you hid something behind your back. „What ya hiding there?“ She asked and you began to blush deeply, not being able to find the right words or to speak at all. „I-…“ You started but she cut you off by snatching it out of your hand. Why did you hide it anyways? You knew Jinx was too fast for you to even react when she tried to get it out your hands.

Her eyes widened when she saw what you were hiding, not knowing how to react. You bit down on your own lower lip, feeling nervous, scared she would be upset. „You are…“ She started, looking into your eyes with a soft gaze, you only nod in response which was enough for the blue haired girl to freak out but in a positive way. „Oh my god! My girl is pregnant!“ She squealed, being all jumpy and giggly, talking to herself about all the things she wants to do and build as she paced around the hideout before she stopped right in front of you, placing a lot of soft kisses on your lips. „I love you so much!“ She said in between the kisses before pulling back to look into your eyes again, you felt so relieved. „Jinx…are you happy?“ You asked just in case as if her reaction wasn’t enough. „Are you kidding me?! I am! I am the happiest my love!“ She reassured you, taking your hands in hers as she gently rubbed them with her thumbs. „I-I know I am chaotic and I know the things I do are weird and dangerous, making me question if I can do this right but…but I want it! I wanna take care of you both and make sure you will always feel loved.“

Her words made you feel so soft. You didn’t expect her to be this passionate about that topic but you loved it. You loved her. Her eyes got a little watery, the more she realised it, the more emotional she got. „I-I thought I did something wrong. I thought you stopped loving me but…but the real reason you behaved like this…it’s such a beautiful reason.“ Jinx voice was very soft and a little shaky as she let tears of happiness run down her cheeks and so did you. You couldn’t hold back your own emotions anymore as well, feeling so happy as well that she wasn’t upset about it. „I could never stop loving you…how could you even think that?“ You asked but in return she just kissed you again, this time more deeper and passionately as she made you lay down on your back. Right now she just wanted to feel you and give you her love, her tongue moving inside your mouth, making you gasp softly in return.

Both of you felt aroused by the deep kissing, your hormones being all over the place made you feel hornier than usual so it was obvious you wanted her and you showed it as your hands gently pulled on her pants, making her smirk into the kiss. „Heh…you want me don’t you?“ She hummed and you nodded. „Yes…yes please I need you.“ You almost beg for her to fuck you and of course she won’t deny you.

It didn’t took you long to be all over each other again, her marking your body with kisses and little gentle bites while her cock moved inside of you, her pace being slower than usual, making you chuckle a little. She must do that on purpose which was cute. „Hnn…you know you can go faster do you?“ She looked down at you with a soft gaze, you knew she didn’t want to do anything wrong but you reassured her. Jinx behavior was just so sweet. „Ah…yes I know of course.“ She said but you knew she was being careful now because she knew you were pregnant. After your reassurance she thrusted faster inside of you as she held your hips gently, going deeper as usual, losing herself into the pleasure just like you. Both of you being a moaning mess. „Fuck…I am close…“ She moaned out and you kept her close to you by wrapping your legs around her waist, making sure she won’t pull out. „M-me too…cum inside me please.“ You whined, her hips didn’t stop moving, moaning out loudly when she came and at the same time you reached your orgasm as well, feeling her fill you up with her cum, making both of you feel so good.

Both of you panted softly, her leaning down to kiss you again so lovingly. „You make me the happiest…“ She whispered. „And you make me the happiest.“ You answered with a soft smile, caressing her cheek as you both looked into each others eyes with so much love.

(Fluff bonus)

„Hey that tickles!“ You giggle softly as Jinx painted little hearts and other little cute stuff on your baby bump. „What? You’re my beautiful canvas.“ She teased by sticking her tongue out, a giggle leaving her own lips. She just loved doing these sweet little things with you.

„Who knows maybe our little one will be as creative as you?“ You mentioned, making Jinx smile more. „Maybe who knows?“ She answered before leaning down to place a kiss on your tummy and then nuzzling close to it. „I love both of you so so much you don’t even know…“ Her words so soft, almost like a whisper as she stayed close to you. „And we love you. Always and forever.“ You gently caressed her beautiful blue hair, making her smile as she closed her eyes and eventually feeling your little one kicking for the first time.

#x reader #fanfiction #female reader #x fem!reader #short imagine #lgbtq #arcane #arcane fanfic #jinx #jinx x fem!reader #jinx x y/n #jinx smut #jinx arcane #jinx x reader #smut scenarios #smut #arcane smut #g!p

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modernquackfare · 4 months ago

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How about Simon having a wife that is a toymaker and makes plushies. Wife!reader comes to the base and gives each of the tf 141 a plushie that looks like them. All of them gets one… except Ghost

Needles to say, he’s very upset, all day, that he didn’t get one.

Only when he gets home, he sees plushies of himself and the reader on the bed

A/N: okay omg i'm so so sorry this has taken forever but I've lost my draft three times 😭 luckily i wasn't TOO far along writing/had it copied but HERE U GO <33

Ghost x Fem!Reader - Toymaker Wife

For such a special day, you come prepared. It's the first time you're setting foot on Spec Gru's European base, thanks to your husband's insistence on security and containment—whatever that means. After much begging and many strategically missed video calls, Simon finally extends an invitation.

It's a cold, concrete world, Simon tells you. Nothing like you, love, or so he says. Does he think being a toymaker for work is synonymous with an inability to handle a few more military men than you already have? It's hard to believe that anyone on base could be more threatening or deadly than Simon himself.

Or Ghost, as they call him here. It's a little funny—reminiscent of middle schoolers that roleplay wolves named Luna or Rebel, but he'd have your head if you ever say such a thing, regardless of how true it might be. You've considered making him a wolf-ear headband just to prove a point and laugh at his furrowed expression. You're sure that his friends, those large men and women in the photo he let you keep, would find it equally funny.

"Sergeant Gaz, Captain Price, Sergeant Soap…” You count, knocking each handheld plush into your bag. It feels just a little childish, showing up to a military base with a pack full of toys-but in your defense, they're the product of your profession and adorable. Each is handmade to recreate the likeness of every member of Task Force 141. They'll probably like the gifts, if Simon's description of each's personality is accurate. Soap's boyish charm, Gaz's calm demeanor, and Price's warm, but dry sense of humor—that's something you can work with.

***

"It's—is this a mini me? This is braw, you've nailed it, lass." Soap lifts his plush into the air, as if holding a newborn babe to the sun. "Down to the scars. I'll be."

You can't help the ripple of a laugh when beside him, Gaz similarly examines his miniature self. "Not bad," he breathes, wiggling the doll's arms as if to make it dance. "Not bad at all. What a handsome fellow."

Soap lifts his doll, moving its head as if it were speaking for him in a poor attempt at ventriloquism "Finely crafted, maybe. Handsome? Well, that's up for—"

"Well, pass yours on over then, let's see that Yule log you call a mohawk," Gaz sneers back, matching Soap's doll's movements with his own.

It's a successful introduction, you think! Simon watches on in silence, loving warmth evident in his eyes as he does. He's not dragging you away and shipping you back home, so things must be going well—as silent and distant as he's being.

"Do you like them?” You ask, hands folded in your lap.

Price fidgets with his, admiring the tiny boonie hat that you've included, small strips of Velcro lining the bottom to adhere the hat to the head. "Never thought I'd ever be the owner of my own doll," he murmurs. "Got the hat just right, didn't you? Spot on."

"Aye, but don't leave it lying about," Soap grins, making his doll trot on over and speak in pitched up tones. “That hat of yours might just disappear. I've got hair too, Cap'."

"Yeah, hair that needs covering."

"Oh, bolt, ya dobber."

Amidst the light chatter of your newfound friends in Simon's comrades, you glance over at the man. There your husband stands, arms crossed tight against his chest. He's got that look—definitely pouting under that mask of his, as much as he protests, saying that it isn't pouting, it's brooding. The others seem to take notice of your wandering gaze, though, and suddenly all eyes are on Simon and his very obvious lack of a personalized doll.

"Don't look so solemn, Ghost," Gaz grins cheekily. "You've almost got me feeling bad for you. You're the one with the dollmaker for a wife, mate.

Simon doesn't respond. His dark gaze, gentle brown eyes hardened into rocks, finds Gaz. Shut it, he seems to say without even opening his mouth.

That grey cloud seems to follow him throughout the day. Convivial conversation with his other friends on base falls flat when the spotlight falls on him, his responses limited to a scant "Hmm," or "Uh-huh," or even a quiet look that verges on a glare. He'll pull away when you reach for his hand, casually enough to pass off as an accident or fault of imperceptibility. As if you didn't know him better—that his reflexes and peripheral vision weren't as sharp as blades.

"Stupid anyway," he mumbles to himself, catching your ears. "Stupid toys."

You frown. He knows better than to speak this way—you've discussed it before, about how much you treasured your work and hated having it dismissed by words like stupid and childish. “I don't think they're stupid," you interrupt, never too intimidated to speak up against him.

Simon immediately softens upon realizing that you've heard him. “It's not—that's not what I meant. You know I don't think they're stupid."

Right, but he's acting strange all day. Still, you can't find it within yourself to probe. "Something is, though. Right?"

"The way they play with them,” Simon immediately speaks, shoulders stiff. "Just…grown men, playing like children."

"Ah," you hum. Somehow, you can't bring yourself to believe it—but you don't ask. It's not as if it's even remotely big enough of an issue to need addressing, after all. You just hate to see Simon so withdrawn. At least, more so than usual.

***

Simon is absent from dinner in the mess hall later on, after giving you an extensive tour and dropping you off at one of the on-base cafes. That's how you know something's off. He would never normally give up an opportunity to share a meal with you, even in a noisy, crowded cafeteria like the one on base.

"Wasn't hungry," he only shrugs when you find him in his on-base unit, boots kicked up as he nurses a neat whiskey. Oh, he's pouting.

You can't help yourself. "Aww, baby," you coo, lingering closer. "Are you feeling alright? You've been gloomy all day…"

"Mmph," he shrugs, gaze flickering up to yours—and he can't help how he all but melts at the love in your eyes. "Just…tired. Go'n and get your shower done. Wanna snuggle."

And how could you say no to that? Your growing suspicion had been that Simon was feeling left out, or forgotten, not receiving a doll of his own. Little does he know, you giggle to yourself.

***

You're in the shower when Simon emerges from his brooding, lurching off the couch and trudging towards the room, where he'd made his bed with clean sheets and set up fluffy pillows for his wife's arrival. The bitterness of being left out of her sweet benevolence has largely faded. She is his wife, after all.

He nudges open his bedroom door, set on his dresser to shed the heavy layers of the day, the mask, and finally exist as Simon for the rest of the night. With you. No doll could ever distract him from you.

He's pulling a hoodie over his head when tiny figures catch in the corner of his vision. A hallucination? No. Dolls.

You and him, smiling and snuggled together. You in your favorite sundress, rosy cheeks and cute face. Him in his mask—which is removable, he discovers on closer inspection. Simon gently tugs off the cloth skull mask, curious to see his own likeness rendered in doll form.

"Handsome bugger," he mutters, thumb brushing over his doll's small face. Blond with stern brown eyes, but smiling. Soap was right about the scars—each placed with perfect accuracy. The one extending from the left corner of his lip up his cheek. The one across his eyebrow. You even got the one under his chin, tucked under the plushie's soft, round face.

On the right hands of both dolls, he realizes, there is a hidden circle of Velcro. So they can hold hands in any orientation. It's such a you thing to do that it hurts.

When you emerge from your shower, all three are gathered in the living room, watching TV. Simon with his legs up on the coffee table, and your miniatures holding hands in his lap. It's hard to help the beam that curls up on your lips—and why would you want to?

"Looks like someone's found the kids," you coo, swaying over and plopping down beside him. “I'm glad you like 'em. Did I do you justice?"

"More than," Simon rasps, scooting close, flush against your side. "They're better than that git, Soap's, that's for sure."

His words coax laughter out of you as you press your head to his chest and scoop up the two little toys into your arms. "Careful, Si. They might hear what you said and tell him.”

"They can go on and tell the whole base, for all I care. Your skill went as far as it could go, it's his face that's the problem." Simon snorts, tugging you close and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Better believe I'm showing this one off tomorrow. Might have to keep it in here, though. I'm not risking a theft."

"You say that every time," you laugh, snuggling close and shutting your eyes for the night as he wraps an arm around you—warm, solid, and safely his.

Request Archive

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fear-less · 6 months ago

Note

Request!!!!!!!!!!!!¡!!!!!!!!!!¡!!!!¡!!!¡!!!!!!!!!¡!!!!!¡¡!!!!!! Anyways teen mom reader x any character ig lol totally fine if you're not comfortable writing for that I'm a teen mom and YA lol perfectly fine if you're not comfortable though totally get it have a great day <3

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 thorns with my petals

paring: regulus black x f!reader

➥ In which, you find out you're pregnant and go through many emotions, especially when you realize you'll have to tell Regulus about it, luckily he doesn't seem as scared about it as you are.

warnings: teen pregnancy, reg stays DON'T worry, fluff, angst, happy ending woo, sirius and reg are on good terms in this bc duhh, and a few time skips.

2.0K words

The chill of late autumn settled over the castle as you sat in the quiet corner of the library, staring blankly at your parchment. The Charms essay in front of you might as well have been written in Gobbledegook for all you could concentrate on it. Your hands trembled slightly as they rested in your lap, still trying to process the news you'd received earlier that day.

Madam Pomfrey's kind but firm words echoed in your mind. "You're a few weeks along, my dear. It’s not uncommon to feel overwhelmed, but I’ll be here to help, should you need anything."

You were pregnant.

It didn’t feel real yet—how could it? You were just a student at Hogwarts, barely scraping through Transfiguration and dodging Peeves' pranks. How were you supposed to take on something so enormous, so life-changing? And how would you tell Regulus?

The thought of him made your heart twist. Regulus Black was not an easy person to read, though you knew him better than most. He had a quiet intensity, a weight on his shoulders that he never spoke of, and a fierce loyalty that burned brightly when it came to you. Still, he was young, like you, and tied to a family that would likely never forgive this kind of scandal.

The library door creaked open, and instinctively, you looked up. There he was, tall and elegant in his Slytherin robes, his dark hair slightly missed from the wind outside. He scanned the room, and when his gaze landed on you, his lips curved into that small, private smile he reserved only for you.

"Hey," he greeted softly, sliding into the seat across from you. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

You swallowed hard, suddenly finding it impossible to meet his eyes. "I—I need to talk to you about something."

His brows knitted together, concern flickering across his features. "Is everything alright?"

The words caught in your throat, tangled with fear and doubt. Regulus reached across the table, taking your trembling hands in his. His touch was grounding, as it always was.

"You can tell me anything, you know that," he said, his voice steady.

You nodded, taking a shaky breath. "I'm... I'm pregnant."

For a moment, the world seemed to still. His grip on your hands didn’t falter, but his expression shifted—surprise, disbelief, and then something softer, something that made your chest ache.

"You're sure?" he asked gently, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded again, tears welling up despite your best efforts to hold them back. "Madam Pomfrey confirmed it this morning."

Regulus sat back, running a hand through his hair as he processed your words. "Okay," he said finally, the word surprising you with its calmness. "Okay."

"That's all you have to say?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"No," he said quickly, leaning forward again. "No, it's not. I just—I need a moment to think." He exhaled deeply, his gaze locking onto yours. "This isn’t what we planned, obviously, but... I’m not going anywhere. We'll figure this out together."

His words brought a fresh wave of tears, but this time, they carried relief. You hadn’t realized how much you’d feared his reaction until now.

"What about your family?" you asked hesitantly.

A shadow passed over his face, but he shook his head. "They don’t matter. You matter. This—" he gestured between you—"matters. We’ll handle it, whatever it takes."

You reached across the table, cupping his cheek. "I was so scared," you admitted.

"I know," he said, covering your hand with his. "But you’re not alone in this. Not ever."

In that moment, despite the uncertainty of the future, you believed him. Regulus had always been your anchor, and now, you would be his too.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Many months later…

The small cottage you and Regulus had made your home after graduation was quiet, save for the sound of the rain pattering against the windows. The world outside was gray, but inside, everything felt warmer—a sanctuary you had built together, away from the expectations and chaos of the Black family and the wizarding world.

Regulus paced the length of the sitting room, his usually composed demeanor cracking under the weight of his nerves. Every so often, he glanced toward the closed bedroom door, where Madam Pomfrey—who had insisted on being there—was helping you through labor.

"Regulus, love, sit down before you wear a hole in the floor," Sirius teased, leaning casually against the doorway. He had shown up unannounced the day before, claiming he wouldn’t miss this for the world. His grin was wide, but even he couldn’t hide the tension in his eyes as the occasional sound of your pained cries echoed through the cottage.

"I can’t just sit," Regulus snapped, running a hand through his already-disheveled hair. "She’s in pain, Sirius. Real pain, and I can’t do anything to help her."

"She’s stronger than you think," Sirius said, his voice softening. "You’d know that if you weren’t so busy pacing."

Regulus shot him a glare but said nothing. Instead, he turned to the window, watching the rainfall in steady streams. His mind raced with thoughts of you—your strength, your determination, and how you had faced the last nine months with a courage that left him in awe. He wanted nothing more than to be by your side, to hold your hand and whisper that everything would be okay.

Just then, the door creaked open, and Madam Pomfrey stepped out. Regulus froze, his breath catching in his throat.

"It’s time," she said with a small smile, her face flushed but kind. "She’s asking for you."

Regulus didn’t wait for another word. He brushed past her, entering the bedroom with his heart pounding in his chest.

You were lying in bed, your hair damp with sweat and your face pale but glowing with determination. Your eyes met his, and despite the exhaustion etched into your features, you managed a weak smile.

"Hey," you whispered.

"Hey," he murmured, rushing to your side and taking your hand in his. His fingers were cold, but his touch was steady, grounding you as another wave of pain rippled through your body.

"I can’t do this," you choked out, tears streaming down your face.

"Yes, you can," he said firmly, his voice filled with a confidence that surprised even him. "You’re the strongest person I know. I’m right here, and I’m not leaving."

With his words and the gentle encouragement of Madam Pomfrey, you found the strength to push through the pain. The minutes stretched into what felt like hours, but finally, a cry filled the room—soft and piercing all at once.

Madam Pomfrey carefully placed the tiny, wriggling baby into your arms, and you felt your breath catch. The weight of the child, your child, was both surreal and grounding. Regulus leaned closer, his wide eyes locked on the baby.

"It’s a boy," Madam Pomfrey announced with a proud smile.

"A boy," Regulus repeated, his voice barely a whisper. His hand trembled as he reached out to brush a finger against the baby’s cheek.

You glanced at him, tears streaming down your face. "We did it," you said, your voice breaking.

He looked at you then, his gray eyes shining with emotion you’d rarely seen. "You did it," he corrected softly. "You’re incredible."

The baby let out a small, hiccuping cry, and Regulus carefully scooped him into his arms. He stared down at the tiny face, his expression a mixture of awe and love.

"He’s perfect," he murmured.

"And so are you," you said, watching him cradle your son with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

Sirius peeked his head into the room, a rare softness in his expression. "So? What’s his name?"

Regulus glanced at you, and you exchanged a smile. "Orion," you said in unison, the name a tribute to the stars that had always guided you both, even in the darkest times.

As the storm outside began to ease, a sense of peace settled over the room. In that moment, surrounded by love and new beginnings, you realized that despite the challenges ahead, you were exactly where you were meant to be—with Regulus by your side and your son in your arms.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

11 years later…

The crisp September air carried the hum of excitement as families bustled around Platform 9¾. The scarlet Hogwarts Express stood gleaming on the tracks, its whistle echoing through the station. You stood hand-in-hand with Regulus, watching as your eleven-year-old son, Orion, darted between trunks and trolleys with boundless energy.

"Slow down, love, or you’ll knock someone over!" you called after him, though you couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

Regulus chuckled beside you, his arm slipping around your waist. "He’s been waiting for this moment since he could hold a wand," he said, his voice soft but filled with pride.

"Sounds like someone I know," you teased, nudging him gently.

"Except he’s far more excited than I ever was," Regulus admitted. His gaze followed Orion as he helped a smaller boy with his luggage. "He doesn’t have the weight of family expectations hanging over him. He gets to just… be."

You leaned into him, understanding the unspoken words. Regulus had come a long way from the boy who once felt trapped by the Black name. Together, you’d built a life for Orion filled with love, freedom, and the chance to define his own path.

"Dad! Mum!" Orion’s voice rang out as he waved you over to where his trunk was now safely stowed on the train. His face was alight with excitement, his gray eyes—so much like his father’s—sparkling with wonder.

"Have you got everything?" you asked, crouching down to check his robes and tie one last time. "Your wand, your books, the lunch I packed?"

"Mum," he groaned, rolling his eyes in that way only an eleven-year-old could. "I’ve got everything. I’m not a baby."

Regulus smirked, kneeling down beside you. "She’s going to worry no matter what, Orion. You’ll just have to write home and reassure her every day."

"Every day?" Orion groaned dramatically, though his grin betrayed him. "Maybe once a week. If I’m not too busy being the best student Hogwarts has ever seen."

"Best student, huh?" Regulus arched an eyebrow. "Let’s start with staying out of detention, shall we?"

Orion grinned mischievously. "No promises."

The train’s whistle blew, signaling the final call for boarding. Your heart clenched as you realized the moment had come.

"Alright, love," you said, pulling Orion into a tight hug. "Be brave, be kind, and don’t forget how much we love you."

"I won’t," he mumbled, hugging you back with surprising force.

Regulus pulled him into a quick but firm embrace. "And remember," he said, his voice quiet but steady, "the Sorting Hat listens to you. Whatever house you choose, we’ll be proud of you."

Orion nodded, his expression momentarily serious. Then, with a bright smile, he picked up his owl’s cage and turned toward the train. "See you at Christmas!" he called as he climbed aboard.

You and Regulus stood side by side, waving as the train began to move. Orion leaned out the window, waving frantically until the train turned a corner and disappeared from view.

The platform slowly emptied as other families departed, but you and Regulus lingered, the weight of the moment settling over you.

"He’ll be alright," Regulus said, slipping his hand into yours.

"I know," you whispered, though tears pricked your eyes. "But it’s hard letting him go."

Regulus pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your temple. "He’s strong, like his mother. And he’s got a whole world ahead of him."

You looked up at him, a smile tugging at your lips. "He’s got the best parts of you, too."

The two of you stood there for a moment longer, watching the empty tracks. Though your hearts ached with the bittersweet pride of watching your son grow up, you knew this was just the beginning of his own adventure—and you’d always be there to cheer him on.

#harry potter #harry potter oneshots #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x you #harry james potter x y/n #marauders x reader #regulus black x y/n #regulus black x you #regulus black smut #regulus black x reader #regulus black fluff #regulus black

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wanderingelvis · 8 months ago

Text

just thinking about what elvis would be like with you if you had a stutter or a stammer.

he’d be so patient with you, not everyone is, they get easily frustrated and fed up that you can’t get your words out properly but not elvis. he lets you take your time and it’s almost even more intimidating that someone is waiting for you to finish speaking.

but he won’t just say encouraging words to you, he’ll gently trace soothing circles into the small of your back. kiss your knuckles after rubbing them with the pad of his thumb, playing with the loose strands of your hair as he tells you “s’okay honey, y’doin’ just fine baby.” when you look to him desperately for comfort and reassurance.

he knows your prone to shutting up altogether when the nerves get the better of you but he loves nothing more than coaxing those thoughts out of you.

you’ll feel your mouth go dry as you try to manage a coherent sentence, getting all worked up and upset when you can’t do it but he never makes you feel bad for it.

you’ll sniffle through tears as elvis lovingly holds your hands and speaks to you softly but firmly, telling you that, “now, there ain’t nothin’ you gotta be upset about baby, you’re tryin’ your best ain’t you darlin’? hm? now i’m real proud of ya, tryin’ y’best like that, there aint no need for those tears now princess.”

and then he’ll let you collapse into his big hold, his arms engulfing you as he presses tender kisses to the top of your head, letting you get settled again as he soothes you.

and even if he tries to encourage you to speak and finish your sentences, sometimes he knows that ain’t always going to be the best thing for you.

like when you’re in a boutique, buying all them pretty dresses that elvis just loves to put you in, and the shop lady shows you something just gorgeous, and all you can do is try to get your words out.

“tha-a-tha-th-“ it’s on the fourth stutter that your eyes go all glossy and panicked, seeking out the big n powerful man like you’re just some little lost puppy searching for her owner.

and so he’ll step in, taking a hold of your little hand in his big coarse one and turning to the shop lady to speak on your behalf. “thanks honey, that’s awful kind of you to show us this. looks like it might just be the one that this little one is gon’ wear tonight.” he says fondly, the shop lady and elvis both looking at you with patience and a smile for you to swallow the lump in your throat and nod — that’s all you can manage for now but it’s enough. and sure, sometimes you feel like you’re four years old and unable to do anything yourself, not even speak, and the frustration gets to you, and the fear.

when you first began to date elvis, you’d wait for him to snap at you, the same way your parents would for embarrassing them in front of others, but elvis doesn’t do that — the thought wouldn’t enter his head.

no, elvis instead crouches down, whisperin’ “such a good girl,” to you. “such a polite, good girl huh?” he practically coos, knowing it’s hard for you, knowing how hard it is for you to even try to speak sometimes.

so elvis reminds you that you’ve tried and that is what matters most.

and elvis is always proud of you for trying. it’s okay if you can’t get your words out, he knows you and he understands you. and you love him, oh how you love him and how he look after you and takes care of you.

sometimes the stuttering makes you insecure, that elvis will get just as fed up as the memphis mafia do, or colonel tom does, but he doesn’t and he won’t.

he loves every part of you. stutter or no stutter, you’re his and he loves you.

note; had a bad week with my stutter, failed a test in a course i'm taking as it was part speaking and couldn't manage it, got rlly upset and rlly hating myself for it, so i thought writing down a lil about how elvis would be with me would help.

masterlist is here

request an elvis imagine etc here, i always love new ideas

love u all ❤️‍🩹

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signedkoko · 1 year ago

Text

Signed with Love - Hazbin Cast

What is this? - A valentines gift to my lovely readers! Its valentines/love letters from your favourites 🖤

Series Parts Overlords & SIns - Here! Helluva Cast - Here!

Sup bitch,

Looking for a valentine, cupid told me ur my soulmate, so how about you be mine?

You know I love teasing ya babe, but really, I got a reso for that restaurant you love, I'd tell you what to wear but the less the better.

Lova ya hot stuff

ORIGINAL DICKMASTER

Salutations my lovely doe!

Another opportunity to show my dear just how much I love them, what more could I ask?

I'd offer my cooking, but I know you don't have quite the palette for venison. Instead, I've prepared a private dinner, catered to by a lovely cafe a good friend of mine runs.

I'll be there to get you at half past two,

Hiii ❣

I hope you don't mind me asking but I REALLY wanted to be the one to ask if you'd be my valentine?

I haven't decided what we should do yet, I was thinking rock climbing, or how about a fancy dinner? Ahh I have so many ideas! We can talk about it later!

Thinking of you always,

Charlie (Morningstar, Princess of Hell, Manager of the Hazbin Hotel (now booking!!), potential valentine of you!)

Heya girly,

I'm not one for holidays, but I know you reallllly wanted to try this one out. So! be my valentine?

I'll bring you to that great viewpoint I hang at, maybe show you how I make some of my arsenal. Just dress comfy, it's going to be a lot of moving!

You better be swooning already!

Your favourite 💣

Hey,

I'm thinking this year we could try something new. As stupid as it sounds, will you be my valentine?

I've got a stack of rental movies and one empty ass theatre room. Still sure no one realized we even have one, but what the hell, right? Let me know what you think and we can go pick up some drinks before.

Looking forward to it,

Husker

Hiii ❣

I know you told me not to go crazy this year, but how could I not! So, valentine...

I left a bag with this note, it's got a few outfits for you to pick that will match mine! Just be ready by 6 tonight, we've got a lot of stops. Drinks, dinner, a performance at Ozzie's, and a reserved spot in my bed tonight.

Happy valentines day,

Yours truly

I pray this letter reaches you,

Maybe you don't expect it of me, but you deserve to feel as special as everyone else this valentines.

So, I've got a surprise dinner set up for us this valentines. If you are willing, dress nice for four tomorrow and I can take you for a flight before it. Just don't wear anything that might fall off.

Your angel,

Lt. Lute

Dearest serpentine,

It would be ever so joyous to accompany you this valentines, if that is okay of course!

My egg bois have insisted upon serenading us and treating us to a nice dinner in my war machine. I promise you it is in prim and proper shape for such a day.

Yours sincerely

(Future) Overlord Pentious

Hey hun,

You've talked a lot about valentines recently, and while I know we said we'd overlook it, I feel like you deserve to know how much I love you.

When you get the chance, I've got a bottle of wine and a free night to decide what we want to do. Just swing by after eight?

See ya valentine,

Vaggie

Authors Note - Ahahaha can you tell I don't write Adam much? Either way, part one of the valentines series 🖤 If you don't have a valentine this year, please allow me to be yours! Or let me know which of these folks you'd accept a letter from 🤭

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miyaz6ki · 8 months ago

Note

I just wanted to say I LOVE your Kinich stuff so much. It makes me so happy to see people paying attention to him! I’ve read through almost all your Kinich posts and honestly I think you have his personality spot on. I also love the little inclusions of Ajaw in some of the writings. Anywho I had a little idea I thought fit him and figured you might like it :D

Kinich using his skill to tie down an enemy in a fight and you can’t help but get a little turned on at the thought of him wrapping his vines around you and letting him do whatever he wants to your body. （≧∇≦）

I don’t know if you have an anon list but if would love to be a 👾🪼🎐 anon (you can pick which one)

welcome 👾 nonnie 💜

your eyes linger back to your lover's as you both fought together. you couldn't help but let your imagination run wild, your mind illustrating every little detail about that rope he used to transport dendro into to hit the enemies.

gosh, maybe if he weren't so hot... you could just visualize—envisage how good it'd be to be tied up helpless in front of your boyfriend.

just musing the way his cold fingertips would touch and feel every curve he could see. "all f'me, baby?" your body almost twitched under his hold. every stroke down to your very core turning you on all the same.

"m- mmhm! all for you, kin'..." was the only thing you've been able to say so far.

he held you close with one arm, as the other one continued foreplay with your cunt. watching how it reacted in real time, and in the mirror in front of you two. the vine-like lines tied you down, and submissive to his rope.

"shhh, baby... not too loud. mualani right outside. don' want her to hear, do you?" you could feel his smirk grow even without looking up from the sight of the floor. pleasure the only sentiment on your mind.

you could feel something start to pool down to your core just thinking about it. or maybe he'd be a little rough with his sweet, flowery words. whispering your name... a kiss to your skin, scattering pecks down your back while his cock so angry, and mean, you could hear the sounds from the other houses. not to mention the moans you would let out.

vines only blooming with small flowers to signal that kinich was getting close. his grunts, and whines giving a few signs as well.

his hand hovered over your stomach, feeling the way his shaft reached, and kissed the deepest parts of you. "haah—you feel me inside ya, sweetheart?"

you don't know which you preferred more though, a more... softer—more vanilla kinich? or it could be the rougher side of him. oh well, as long as it was him, it's honestly hot either way.

he could do both, maybe you could last a few rounds. but you couldn't help cling onto his arm on the way home.

"...hey. you seem out of it. what's wrong?" his voice was quick, and caring. kindness clear in his voice.

"hah—kin'.." the very look in your way could tell him everything he needed to know. and before you acknowledge it, you're lifted up into his arms and he's swinging with you home.

the sappy sweet smile on your face was the opposite of the sentiment his cock sent through your hole. your entrance clenched harshly onto the shaft, his base giving fast thrusts nonetheless.

you were bent over the dining table you invited mualani to for dinner in a few hours. he can make this quick, I think.

your head threw back into the wood of the table, your arms helplessly flailing at your sides. eyes closed shut—his hands had such a gentle touch to your waist to hold you into place. your eyebrows knit each time you tried to open your eyelids, meeting his very eyes. piercing, dominance clear in his loving gaze.

"if you open your eyes—sweetheart... look at me at least..." one of his other hands floated over to your cheeks, helping you look, and maintain your eye contact with him.

even so, your umpteenth orgasm came and went... his hips were almost glued stuck to yours, his warm load shot up into your stomach. your back continued to arch, and so did his. archons—you've never felt better is all he's busy thinking about.

his cock slowly left you as he watched cum drip out of your sweet pussy, the urge to lick it all back in had to come for later, damn why'd you have to invite mualani...

he cleans you up well, letting you wear one of his clothes for the moment to wrap his arms around you and sit on the couch quietly. his head leaned onto his left as his left arm rang around your neck, holding you close.

the warm atmosphere almost icked mualani as she brought ajaw back from his walk.

"hmm. smells like pineapple in here... whatever, I brought your lizard back, (name) it's time for you to pay!" the girl cheered, drooling at the thought of your cooking. all the dishes you made tasted amazing, no matter what recipe anyone gave you!

kinich suddenly wakes up by the time you've left his arms to go to the kitchen and chat with the shark girl. oh well, he can wait until later.

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moonlitsmile · 2 months ago

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Can you write headcannons how Joel miller Would be with his younger girlfriend, thansk! 💗

How he would be with his younger partner ୨୧

joel miller x f!reader

nsfw under cut ❣︎

- He might not say much at first, but he’s always watching out for you. He keeps a hand at the small of your back in crowded areas, walks on the outside of the sidewalk, and checks the locks twice when you stay over. It’s his way of saying I love you without the words.

- He acts of service king. like he’s constantly doing little things. Like changing the oil in your car, fixing your leaky faucet, or carrying heavy bags for you without you even asking.

- Sometimes he’ll get quiet and just look at you like he can’t believe you’re his. He’ll brush a strand of hair behind your ear and mumble something like, “Don’t know what I did to deserve you.” He really believes you’re this bright, soft light he stumbled into.

- In public, he’s tough and a little gruff, but behind closed doors I feel like he’d be gentle. Thumb rubbing over your knuckles, forehead kisses, slow back rubs when you’re tired. He holds you like you’re breakable, even though you’ve seen him at his roughest.

- He’ll grumble when you playfully poke fun at his age. “Old man? I’ll show you an old man.” But you can see the smirk fighting to stay hidden. He secretly loves how much you tease him, especially when you do that little smile that melts him.

- When he sleeps next to you, he always pulls you close, even if he passed out angry or tired. You’ll wake up tangled in his arms, his face buried in your hair, mumbling half-asleep things like “Ain’t goin’ nowhere, sweetheart.”

- He respects your independence, even if it kills him not to step in sometimes. He’ll ask, not demand. “You sure you’re okay goin’ alone?” and if you say yes, he won’t fight it, but you will find a weapon mysteriously tucked into your bag later.

- He’s not poetic, but every now and then he’ll hit you with a line like, “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” Or “You look real pretty today.” And it always feels 10x more powerful because of how rare and sincere it is.

- Occasionally he’ll lean into the “old guy” thing and tell a dumb dad joke just to make you laugh. He’s so smug when you groan and roll your eyes. “Told ya I was funny.”

- Joel’s been through hell and survived more than anyone should. But loving you gives him something to live for again. A future. A hope. And he guards that fiercely. (HES ALIVE.)

Nsfw ೀ

- Joel isn’t in a rush. He takes his time with you, kissing your neck until you’re squirming, running his hands over every inch of your skin like he’s memorizing it. He needs you to feel worshiped.

- He’s always telling you how good you are, how pretty you look, how tight you feel. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.” His voice drops to that low, gravelly tone that makes your knees weak every time.

- I feel like he’d leaves marks, hickeys on your neck, bites on your thighs, bruises on your hips from how hard he grips you. He doesn’t mean to be rough, but when you moan his name like that? He wants to ruin you for anyone else. “You’re mine. Say it.”

- He seems like the type of person that loves when your ride him. There’s something about you on top, your hands on his chest, his big hands guiding your hips, eyes locked on yours. He’ll just sit back and groan, watching you fall apart. But he will take over when he’s had enough teasing.

- mm I think he’d have a daddy kink (but it’s soft). Like you call him “daddy” and his whole body reacts. He doesn’t even ask for it, it just happens and it wrecks him. But he’s not degrading. it’s all about taking care of you, owning every sound you make. “That’s my good girl. You need daddy’s cock, huh?”

- He a aftercare king. He’s so gentle after. Wipes you down, runs a warm bath if you need it, holds you close and rubs your back while murmuring things like “Did so good for me, baby.” He’ll get you water—he won’t even let you lift a finger.

- He has that voice. The low, broken groans, the way he growls “You feel so fuckin’ good, baby” right in your ear, it’s almost too much.

- Joel has a sixth sense for what you need. Fingers, tongue, cock, he knows just how to use them. He’ll edge you for fun, hold your wrists down, whisper sweet things while your thighs shake. “Not yet, baby. I’ll tell you when.”

#pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller #joel miller fluff #headcanon #pedro pascal #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #joel tlou #tlou

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carbonfiction · 2 months ago

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Hii - What would it be like if Frank dated a reader who was too oblivious when it came to affection? - like, after sex she always pulls away and goes to sleep far away because she can't stand the heat, not because she doesn't like Frank or physical touch, but because she's sensitive to temperature, sometimes touch, sometimes food selectivity.

Ooooh!! Now this is a really interesting thing to think about, i love it! Some of my favorite things to write is the different ways Frank cares for his partner sooo.. Heres some headcanony thoughts!

Warnings?: mostly soft and fluffy! Aftercare with obviously indescriptive mention of smut!

So I do feel like many of us frank writers say this but i genuinely see frank being so perceptive to these kinds of scenarios!!

Much like the actual sex, frank is always keeping track of what you seem to like or dont. And while at first Frank might be a little confused the first few times you pull back from him post sex, seeming to drift into your own bubble on the other side of the sheets, he absolutely would pay mind to the fact people need different things.

Its completely normal and natural that something that works for him in the come down, doesn't always work or help you and vice versa! So he looks for a bridge.

Frank would watch. He'd silently learn every little thing you reach for or even pad around to collect and add them to a mental note.

Slowly he'd start leaving bottles of water, perhaps a soda, maybe even some candy or treats you like, around the bedside tables. Simple but easily accessible things.

Taking all the tasks you had often gravitated to from your hands with a soft kiss pressed to your hair and a gentle "Hey aint gotta move yet..you stay there, i got it", "second drawer down, got you a couple of those candies you like" or even "you want your usual snack or feelin somethin different today sweetheart? Whatever you want"

I also believe frank would take great care with the clean up in this situation- infact it almost becomes a replacement of the close contact physical touch (actual cuddles and whatnot) if you often feel too overwhelmed sensory wise for it!

With a grumbled stretch of his muscles he's treading to the bathroom (still completely bare) and, depending on how intense things were, grabbing a pleasant temperature flannel or running a bath.

With the correct temperature flannel option hes cleaning over your skin as feather light as possible- a task for his usually heavy handed fingers. One that had taken you time to let him accomplish alone. Spit, slick, cum, sweat- anything and everything that could even begin to make you feel anymore overwhelmed or uncomfortable. Pushing your hair out of your face and hushing "almost done babydoll, i know..", "anywhere else not feelin comfortable?" and "still feelin too sensitive there sweetheart? Yeah? Alright, ill go more gentle kay? Tell me if its too much"

While with the bath hes carrying you- no if or buts. Frank will even put a shirt on just to do this if thats what you'd prefer than the press of sweaty skin. But nothing is stopping him from picking you up from that bed like a trembling legged baby deer. "Ready? Up we go, theres my princess" or "lets getcha nice n clean yeah? Made a real mess a' ya didn't i"

If you rather him help then he's absolutely going to- leaning over and cupping water over you hair, massaging in your favorite products, soaping over your skin with body wash and prasing every inch. Practically smothering you in warmed towls after and helping you dress (if thats what you'd rather do than remain bare)

Otherwise he'll give you the time alone if thats how you prefer it, choosing to change over the sheets so everything feels nice and fresh for you to nap. Perhaps even finding some movie or show you like to help lul you off.

But all in all hes taking your cues and building off of them, each situation unique to you. And like.. Frank doesn't mind in the slightest. He just wants his girl comfortable, content and taken care of; your needs are not any trouble to him.

A lil bonus thought- Perhaps you get a fan (or a blanket if you run colder) so you can indulge frank for a moment. You dont think of it a big deal when you set it up, frank never had for you so..why would it be? But It becomes the first time you've ever seen him just completely melt, the flutter of his lashes slowing as he blinks, the grumble of half asleep snores rumbling against your skin. The occasional compromise feeling even better than sex somedays.

Sigh.. You guys i love writing domestic, boyfriend frank. Its like drugs to me- Hes just everything, my beloved guy <33 more more more!!

#carbonrambles #frankiethoughts #frank castle #frank castle x female reader #frank castle comfort #frank castle x reader fluff #frank castle x reader smut #frank castle fluff #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle punisher #frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #the punisher #the punisher x reader

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 16 days ago

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i do so desperately want to read properly but like. my skill level has stagnated and i just do not understand what adult fiction is saying. And when i try YA it feels weird seeing middle schoolers learn about the power of friendship or teen romance drama or whatever. how do I get over this roadblock. I feel like the stupid ulysses ogre except im struggling to put together themes in books made for tweens while not even enjoying myself.

I mean I think the most crucial thing here is being nicer to yourself about what you consider to count as reading "properly," and also to recognize that "adult fiction" is not a monolith

like, what adult fiction are you reading? litfic by people with MFAs? graphic novels? charmingly formulaic romances? the scary evil DARK romances that are allegedly ruining the publishing industry? 600 page fantasy doorstoppers loaded with politics and made up names? charmingly formulaic mysteries? fast-paced thrillers? self-published furry erotica with plot? cozy science fiction? all of that can fall under the heading of adult fiction, and it's barely scratching the surface!

the world is your oyster, so find the stuff that clicks with you and pursue that; it will feel more worth it if you're actually enjoying yourself. there's absolutely zero reason to put yourself through the strain of reading something "smart" if you aren't enjoying it, and anyone who has something snooty to say about somebody reading for fun is, to put it lightly, an asshole.

it may also help to focus on fiction that's really short or really unsubtle, or both. again, contemporary romance novels are seldom shy about telling you up front what the themes are, and that's not a dig—I love romance novels! and shorter reads, like novellas or short stories, may also be interesting, since they generally need to be a bit more compact in getting the idea across.

have you heard of the Murderbot Diaries? I haven't read them but man, people love those. some other books that spring to mind when it comes to keeping it simple: Portrait of a Thief by Grace D. Li, A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers, Kaikeyi by Vishnavi Patel, and virtually anything by Silvia Moreno Garcia, who writes across a wide variety of genres.

I'd also like to offer the radical suggestion that you don't need to 100% totally understand everything that happens in a book to enjoy it. like, yes, it's nice to understand what's going on, but it's totally chill if you spend some of it just floating along enjoying the story and waiting to see what will happen next. I'm currently reading Toni Morrison's Beloved, and while the prose is brilliant, I'm also struggling to keep track of everything going on! I'm doing a lot of doubling back and rereading to make sure I'm keeping up with events, and even then I'll still miss things and be uncertain of my understanding until something later in the book can offer confirmation. and that's fine! there are tons of books I've loved to pieces while also struggling to understand everything being shown to me: NK Jemisin's Broke Earth series, Stephen Graham Jones' My Heart is a Chainsaw, Alison Rumfitt's Tell Me I'm Worthless, Tamsyn Muir's Harrow the Ninth and Gideon the Ninth. in many cases, rereads are helpful here! and also awesome!

also, hey, if you're struggling to make sense of something, great news: other people also read those books! options will vary depending on how well-known the book is, but generally someone else will have taken a crack at explaining it. google "[book name] synopsis" or "[book name] review" and you could get anything from a sparknotes to a wiki synopsis to a professional book review to an amateur book review to a youtube channel breaking it down in excruciating detail. and you don't have to take their analyses at face value, either—you're ALSO practicing media literary when you ask yourself "do I agree with this review? why or why not? why might this reviewer have arrived at such a different conclusion than me? what could have influenced their opinion? how does this fit, or not fit, with my understanding of this book?"

just have fun and be yourself dude you'll be fine out there xoxo

#bookblr

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rinhaler · 1 year ago

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Thinking about plug! Sukuna saying "tell me you want this princess" and "say you fucking need me bitch" desperately when you don't respond :/

I can't write him anymore in this AU bc every time they fuck I want to tell him we love him but we CAN'TTTTTTT

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, dubcon, smoking weed (implied), cheating, manhandling, size difference, slight pining, spanking, degradation, dry humping, vaginal sex, pet names (princess), hair pulling, he slaps u 🫶🏽 ++ squirting !

words: 1.5k

“What are you doing here?” you ask, attempting to close the door before he can come in. He smirks, managing to stick his foot between the door and the frame before you can shut it. “You can’t be here, Sukuna.”

He rolls his eyes, pushing his way inside and making himself at home. You lock the door quickly after him, standing with your arms folded as you watch him investigate your apartment. You can’t tell if he’s amused or disgusted, and it makes you wonder why he’s here at all.

“You really are a trust fund baby. Aren’t ya?” he smirks. “Here.”

Your eyes never leave him as he approaches your kitchen table, tossing a bag of weed down onto it. You stare, long enough for him to scoff as if insulted. And then you look at him, looking right back at you. There’s an expression of his face that you can’t quite read, and the silence between you builds and builds.

“What is this?” you ask.

“Weed. I thought you’d know that by now, you smoke enough of mine.” he says, it’s casual but not quite playful enough to be sincere. So you huff, folding your arms across your chest as you consider what to say next. “Don’t worry,” he starts.

“Well I am worried because you always want something from me when you give me weed.” you sigh. “Like a kiss or—”

“Heard you and Yuuji were arguing.” he interrupts you. “Thought you might need something to relax. I don’t have a motive… just trying to—”

“Trying to get your dick wet again, I’m not stupid.” you interrupt him right back. He looks at you, and this time you can read his expression clearly. There’s annoyance across his features plain as day, but you see traces of hurt, too.

Is it possible? Is it really possible for him to extend a kindness to you with no ulterior motive? It’s hard to believe. It’s hard to take seriously when you know the type of person he is. You don’t even really like each other. You’ve gone from hating each other to tolerating each other for Yuuji’s sake.

And still, you feel sorry for him.

He came all of this way, and you’ve hardly been a good host thus far. You sigh, sitting at the kitchen table. The weed must be his idea of a peace offering, so you shrug. He moves from leaning against the table to sitting on the seat opposite to you, watching you carefully as you decide what your next move is.

“I— I don’t even know how to roll.” you confess.

“… I can do it for you.”

Your laughter is infectious enough to make Sukuna laugh too. You’ve been watching old episodes of SpongeBob for an hour, and you can’t believe how long it’s been since you watched it. You always thought it was funny as a kid. But you hadn’t expected it to be even funnier as an adult.

But maybe you’re just high.

“Sukuna?” you say, it’s quiet in comparison to your laugh. But he hears it clear enough, looking down to where your head is rested in his lap. He nods to tell you to continue, but looking up at his harsh red eyes and chiselled jaw makes you nervous. “Why did you really come over?”

He clears his throat, taking a final drag of his blunt before stubbing it out in the nearby ashtray. His eyes can barely meet yours as he searches for the confidence to tell you the truth.

“I just wanted to see you.” he confesses.

You turn off the TV and sit upright. You’re sitting beside him, and now, he can’t take his eyes off you. A squeak leaves you as he dares to pull you closer to him, so close that you’re straddling him.

You hate yourself.

You want to kiss him.

He smirks at the little internal conflict that’s plastering itself across your face. His hands smooth up your sides, one travelling further to take a firm grasp of the back of your neck. His hold is strong, but not forceful. Just enough to keep you in place and maybe bring you closer to him and he leans in to kiss you.

And you let him.

Your lips lock and you moan as he helps you grind down onto his growing bulge. He smiles against your lips as your mouth opens just enough for him to slip you some tongue. A primal growl rips through him as he feels your warm, clothed cunt rub against him just right.

“Tell me you want this, princess.” he says quietly before kissing you again.

You don’t respond, focusing on kissing him back and getting yourself off like a horny teenager. Your hands cup his face, and you continue to roll your hips against him pathetically. Heavy breaths and wanton moans leave you as you proceed to chase the feeling and carry on giving Sukuna what he wants just as desperately.

You do want this.

Your pitiful display can attest to that.

His hands wander again to squeeze your ass, Sukuna’s own moaning at the mere feeling of your pussy soaking his sweats should be enough to make him feel ashamed. He doesn’t care, though. Not when your lips are on his and your entrance is just two layers of fabric away.

He rests his head on the back of the couch, allowing you the time to tell him. Really tell him how much you crave him.

But you don’t.

Not a single word.

His eyes grow darker, more impatient. Could he be wrong? The way you’re using him tells him otherwise, but he wants you to tell him. He needs you to. A hand spanks hard against your ass cheek before he moves it to slap you across the face.

And it shocks you.

His other hand wraps around your hair and forces you closer to him again. Noses almost touch as he looks at you like a meal to be devoured by an animal in the wild.

“Say you fucking need me, bitch.” he demands.

You can’t tell if you’re nodding on your own or if he’s doing it himself with your hair. But you crumble, for him. Spilling your desire and crumbling under his stare, admitting your deepest shame.

“I n-need you, Sukuna,” you bite your lip. “Please.”

He reaches under your skirt to move your panties aside. His patience is thin, he just wants to feel you. He quickly pulls his cock out from beneath his sweats, lining his thick tip up with your dripping hole.

“Fuck.” you gasp, eyes watering as he repeatedly dips in and out of you.

You screech as he forces you down on his length, and he grunts at the sensation of your cunt forcing itself to accommodate his girth. He’s loud, and he doesn’t care in the slightest. This is what he wanted all along.

This is always what he wants.

He helps you ride him, even fucking up into you shallowly to help hit the spongy spot deep inside that always makes you delirious. The spot only he can hit. Not some random guy. Not his little brother. Just him.

“That’s it, princess,” he praises you, noting by your pretty face and spasming cunt that you’re nearing your demise. He’s not much better, either, ready to coat your insides at any given second. He’s holding off, though. He needs you to cum first. “Let go, make a mess for daddy. Go on.”

“C-Can’t—” you tell him. The stretch is glorious and the feeling of his pretty tip battering your g-spot is perfection personified. But it’s too much. It’s too much to focus on and ground yourself to really enjoy and let yourself go. You’re struggling to take him. You can’t give him what he wants and—

He forces your little crop top up to rest beneath your collarbones, quickly sucking and kissing your nipples between his soft lips. His tongue laps at them. And God he’s wasted being a fucking drug dealer.

He should be a porn star.

He pulls away as you clamp around him, throwing your head back from the blissful feeling as your cunt soaks him. Your squirt all over him, turning light grey sweats dark as you almost scream through the feeling of your release.

The sight is more than enough to make him finish. His balls tighten and cum coats your insides as he finishes with you fully seated on his cock. Sukuna’s arms hug tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he empties himself in your womb.

He slowly continues to make out with your tits when it’s over. His energy spent but still desperate to feel you, please you, hear you in any capacity. The overstimulation drives you wild, you do all you can do wriggle away but it’s hopeless.

Sukuna is stronger than you’ll ever be, and you’ve given him full control of your body.

#💌 — luxe mail #📨 — requests #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu #jjk x fem!reader #tw cheating #tw degradation #tw hair pulling #tw manhandling #tw size difference

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choiuikawa · 7 months ago

Text

.ᐟ SUNA HEADCANONS

CONTENT: Suna Rintaro x Reader, Suna HCS, yapping, drunken confessions, drabble, GN reader, time-skip, "what are we" type of trope

WARNING: might be OOC, non prof read, bad writing

AN: was crying over my dog cus he had surgery but i gotta thug it out 🥲

.ᐟ.ᐟ

• I know he's a millennial, but I like to think that he has gen Z humor. So he'd definitely be the type to have gen Z humor.

• his jokes are updated with every single brainrot that comes out of social media every now and then, for example "stop the edge and start looksmaxxing." (you say something worse right after.)

• I can imagine him having 2 or 3 tattoos, and one of those tattoos is definitely your name.

• HIS TEXTS ARE THE DEFINITION OF SARCASTIC.

• he randomly flexes his biceps in front of you just to see how you would react.

• he could be the type to wrap his arms around your waist from behind and start to slowly kiss your neck.

• this man is full of surprises. A second ago you were just cuddling and suddenly it becomes a full blown make-out session.

• before you were dating, you made it painfully obvious that you liked him but he didn't confess until you confess. (he liked you back, but he just wanted to see how long you could hold up)

• if you started to lose feelings just because you think that he just sees you as a friend, he starts to panic and immediately starts finding a way to fix the gap between the both of you.

• In the end you confessed first, although you were quite tipsy at the time. You just started rambling about how much you liked him.

"did anyone tell ya that yer quite the cute guy?"

"no.."

"well, yer cute thats fo'sho."

"yer drunk. You don't know what yer talking about."

"yes I do.. I like everythin' about ya. Starting from yer personality, humor, unique, funny, understanding and.. and-"

"Do ya mean that?"

"hell yes. I would give you my life if it mean't bein' whiddya. But, you jus see me as one of yer friends. hurts, doesn't it?" tears formed in your eyes while muttering the last sentence.

"no.. no, I— I don't see you as a friend."

"what do you see me as then? tell me please.. if ya tell me I'll move on I s- *hic* -swear.."

"I didn't finish yet, I don't want you to move on and I don't want you to ever think that I see you as a friend, I see you more than that.. please, let me explain m'self, I love you with every single fiber of my body, I love you so much to the point that I can't see my life without you in it. Your presence is so much more to me, I don't see you as my friend, I see you as my world."

• You have never tried kissing anyone before however, you don't know what came over your senses but you just immediately crashed your lips onto his sealing the both of your lips in a messy kiss. It was quite loving if i have to say so myself..

• you're both basically ctrl + c and ctrl + v

• he has you as his lock screen AND home screen no doubt.

• he would send you cheesy texts and pictures of himself just to update you that he's still there LMAO

• he definitely would be the person to own a pet snake

• his favorite color is (ur fav color) because its your favorite color.

• if you were to commit a crime he'd take cover for you and would also probably take the blame IFHAKFHJAJRA

#haikyuu!!#suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarou #suna rintaro haikyuu #suna rintaro x y/n #suna rintarō #suna rintaro fluff #suna rintaro x you #suna rintaro smau #hq smau #drabble #yapping #fypage #fypツ #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #fluff

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sniktbaby · 1 month ago

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something you could sin for (part one)

summary: logan is your dad's best friend. both of you struggle to come to terms with your growing feelings for each other.

warnings: angst, dad's best friend, a hint of jealousy-based misogyny, age gap (reader is in her late 20s!), size difference, some dirty talk, size kink (logan has a huge d), smidge of praise, pet names (baby, princess, darling), shower sex, oral sex (f + m receiving), pain kink if you squint, riding, clitplay, creampie, lots of religious terms (idk man), cliffhanger ending maybe???

word count: 6.6k

author's note: yeehaw cowboy logan!!! i had such a fun time writing this one! i might do a sequel to this if you guys like it! title is from midnight cowboy by jade <3

UPDATE: part two is out now! <3

It is your birthday. Logan, your dad’s best friend, stands by the barbeque, chatting it up with your dad. He steals glances at you, hoping you don’t notice his gaze underneath his signature cowboy hat and dark aviators.

He really has been making an effort not to look. Trying not to notice the baby blue dress you’re wearing, the way it cinches at your waist. How the thin fabric flows over your hips. And he definitely didn’t catch sight of you bending down to pet his dog, your breasts barely contained by the cups of the dress, revealing that you’re not wearing a bra.

No, he didn’t notice that at all.

Fuck. What is he thinking? You’re his best friend’s daughter, for Christ’s sake! He even brought a date, some little redhead he picked up at the bar, just so he’d have an excuse to stay away from you.

But the truth is, the second he saw you - barefoot in the grass in that damn dress, laughing with your friends while you posed in front of the balloon wall - he couldn’t even remember the redhead’s name. He didn’t want to remember, checked out of that whole idea.

The sun is setting now. Logan goes to help your dad with getting a bonfire started as you sit on the porch, a slice of cake balanced on a paper plate in your lap. The redhead Logan brought stands so close to him, hanging off his every word, and it makes your muscles tense. You’re so distracted, watching this woman laugh at Logan’s dumb jokes, that you don’t notice Addy, Logan’s dog, sprinting up to you. Before you have time to react, you’re absolutely covered in vanilla cake and strawberry frosting.

Logan looks over, noticing the commotion. He can see your cheeks flush and your eyes water as you stand there, smothered in cake. He knows you would never be mad at Addy over an accident. You’re too understanding, as sweet as the dessert smeared all over your pretty dress. You’re crushed because the redhead beside him is pointing at you, laughing.

You’re embarrassed, humiliated, and his little date isn’t helping. His jaw clenches as he watches you hurry inside the house.

“Shit. Logan, go check on her, will ya?”

Logan turns toward your dad, who is still occupied with getting the fire just the way he wants it. A stubborn perfectionist. You inherited that from him.

But Logan can’t go after you. He can barely be alone with you these days, much less when you’re upset. He’ll just want to hold you, stroke your hair, tell you the truth about how he feels. He can’t do that. “Why me?” he asks, taking a step to the side as the redhead goes to lock arms with him.

Your dad chuckles, breaking a branch over his knee. “You’ve always been better at cheerin’ her up when she’s like this.”

He’s not wrong. With a sigh, Logan nods, then makes his way towards the house.

You disappear inside. Honestly, Addy did you a favor. You needed a moment to yourself, to clear your head. Get Logan out of it.

You were already jealous that he brought another woman. Then you think of her laughing face when Addy knocked the slice of cake against you. And now you’re so fucking humiliated, it stings your skin. Sure, it was funny, but her pointing finger and high-pitched giggle felt like malice. She already has the man you want, she has to laugh at you too?

Ugh. You can’t keep pretending like your feelings for Logan aren’t bigger than a silly childhood crush.

You retreat to your bedroom, sitting on the edge of your bed as you take a couple of deep breaths. You look down at the cake staining your dress, frosting smeared on your chest. It’s even in your hair.

You sigh. You need to calm down before going back out there.

Logan follows you through the house. This was a bad idea. He knows he shouldn’t have come after you. He should have stayed outside with the others, kept his hands clean of anything that doesn’t involve whiskey or cigars. But seeing you walk away, knowing you’re upset…

He’s here now, standing outside of your goddamn door.

He clears his throat, making you look up. You’re surprised to see him, his arms crossed tight over his chest, the fabric of his t-shirt pulled taut over his muscles.

He lifts his chin at you. “You okay?”

Your lips lift. “Fine,” you reply, lowering your gaze. You pick at a piece of cake stuck to your thigh. “Guess Addy was mad I didn’t cut her a slice.”

He lets out a rough chuckle as he pushes off the doorframe. Your joke lands soft and he hates that he put that tremble in your voice. He folds his arms tighter across his chest like it’ll somehow hold everything in - his control, his guilt, the goddamn animal inside him that perks up every time you look at him, like he’s worth something.

You look at him like you know him. Like you can see past the claws and the scars and the rage that lives under his skin. You look at him like you want all of him, even if it’s broken, even if it might hurt you.

And that scares the hell out of him.

You search his face. He looks troubled, like there’s something brewing beneath the surface if you could only pull it out of him. “You could’ve given me the heads up that you were bringing someone,” you murmur, shrugging your shoulders, feigning nonchalance though your fingers twist anxiously in your lap. “I mean…it’s your life, right? You can bring whoever you want. The guy I’m seeing was gonna come, but…”

A lie. You swallow hard, forcing a bitter smile.

His jaw clenches, nostrils flaring slightly. “You’re lyin’.” A slow exhale, one of his hands coming up to rub the back of his neck, knuckles brushing against the collar of his shirt. His dog tags shift under the cotton. He takes a step closer, drawn to you like a moth to flame.

You stiffen at his accusation, lips parting in surprise before pressing into a tight line. Your gaze drops to the floor. “You think I’m lying?” Your voice is quieter now, but still laced with defiance. You raise your chin, meeting his eyes again.

He takes another step, close enough now that he could reach out and touch you. Wipe the frosting from your skin. Taste it. Taste you.

Instead, he braces a hand on the bedpost beside your head, caging you in without laying a finger on you. “Think you’re lyin’ ‘bout the guy.” He tilts his head, jaw tight, eyes locked on yours. “Doubt he exists. Doubt anyone else gets that look from you.”

Your breath hitches, caught somewhere between fear and desire. He’s standing so close - too close - but he still hasn’t touched you. He’s choosing restraint, control. Something you don’t want from him. But you refuse to give in first.

You angle your head away from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Stubborn girl. You always have been. You were always one to bite your lip bloody before admitting you were hurt.

Logan smirks, reaching up to tug off his hat. Without breaking eye contact, he settles it atop your head. It dips low over your brow, too big for you, shadowing your face just enough to make you raise your chin towards him. His thumb brushes the shell of your ear before pulling away completely, letting you feel his absence now that you’ve tasted his touch.

“Sure you don’t,” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement and something darker.

The weight of his hat feels heavier than it should. Your fingers twitch at your sides, itching to touch him, to tear that fabric off of him until there’s no space left between you. Your heart pounds wildly beneath your ribs, hopeful and terrified all at once. Your breaths are coming fast, shallow, like you’re scared one wrong move will end whatever the hell is happening between you.

Your voice cracks when you speak. “You shouldn’t be in here, Logan.”

You’re right. He shouldn’t be in here. The curtains are drawn, the whole damn world waiting outside for them. None of them know how close he is to crossing a line he can’t come back from.

But he doesn’t move.

Your eyes. The way you look at him with desperation. Hunger. It mirrors something dark and restless in him. Something that has been clawing at his ribs for years, begging him to stop running. Stop hiding behind rules and regrets.

He shifts, just enough to close the distance between you. His knee presses into the mattress beside your thigh. His movements are slow, careful, wanting you to feel what you should know by now.

That he wants you.

Your breath catches, your thighs squeezing together. A million thoughts race through your head. You should tell him that this isn’t right. That he’s too old, too forbidden, too connected to your family to ever truly belong to you.

But instead, you lean into him, your chest rising and falling faster now. Your voice is barely above a whisper. “Logan…” Your fingers curl into the fabric beneath you, fighting the urge to pull him closer. To kiss him.

Your voice, his name on your lips - it sounds like a prayer. A surrender. A warning.

He shouldn’t. He really fucking shouldn’t.

But you leaned in. That tiny, traitorous shift of your body towards his - that was all it took. The last thread snaps. No more lies. No more pretending he doesn’t want you like this. Like he hasn’t wanted you for years. He cups your face before he loses his nerve, rough palm cradling your jaw like you’re both delicate and dangerous - which you are.

“Shouldn’t…” he mutters, thumb grazing your bottom lip, feeling you tremble underneath it, “...but I was never very good at doin’ what I should.”

And then he kisses you. Hard.

The kiss steals the air from your lungs, hot and demanding and utterly consuming. You go rigid beneath his touch, stunned that this is happening - that he is kissing you, claiming your mouth like he owns every secret you’ve whispered in the dark.

And then you push him away, roughly, causing him to stumble back a few steps.

The loss of your warmth hits him like a punch to the gut. He staggers back, blinking rapidly as if just waking up from a dream where he got to pretend he deserved to touch you like that.

Shit.

He rakes a shaky hand through his hair, teeth gritted against the self-loathing crawling up his spine. He came in here to check on you, to play it cool, and instead he kissed you like he had some sort of claim. Like he wasn’t supposed to be the responsible one.

“I-” He stops. Can’t even finish his sentence. He doesn’t know what the hell to say.

You bring a trembling hand to your lips, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin like you’re trying to memorize the feel of his kiss. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, uneven breaths escaping your parted lips. Your eyes well up, but you blink furiously to fight it back. Not here. Not in front of him. “No…” Your voice breaks on the word, and you shake your head violently. The cowboy hat slips sideways and you snatch it off, tossing it onto the bed like it burned you. “You don’t get to do that.”

The hat hitting the sheets feels like a slap to his cheek. You’re crying. Trying not to, stubborn girl, but he can see it. Smell it. That salt in the air - sharp and painful, like blood. And it’s his fault.

He exhales, eyes fixed on the floor between you like he’s staring into the grave of every rule he swore he wouldn’t break. “No…” He swallows hard, fists clenching at his sides.

You stand abruptly, the mattress creaking softly beneath you. The wood floor is cold on your bare feet, grounding you, reminding you who you are - who he is. You wrap your arms tightly around yourself. “I’m going for a shower.” You turn, heading for the bathroom connected to your bedroom.

He watches you, muscles coiled tight like he expects you to vanish the second you’re out of his sight. But when you start to close the bathroom door, something inside of him snaps for the second time tonight.

No. Not after that kiss. Not after years of watching you grow up, laughing when he picked you up after your first night of drinking because you were too scared to call home. Hurting when you cried over boys who never deserved you, little pricks. Loving you in ways he buried so deep he convinced himself he could live with this ache.

He pushes the door open before you can close it completely, his actions gentle but firm. Letting you know he’s in this. Letting you decide if you want to throw him out. He’ll leave if you tell him to.

You freeze. Your back to him, shoulders rising with each breath. You ignore him, moving to the faucet to turn on the water. Steam begins to rise as the water heats, fogging up the room. Then you turn to face him. “Logan…” Your voice wavers, partly a plea, a little bit of a warning.

The door clicks shut behind him and he takes a step towards you, close enough now that his heat licks at your skin like the thoughts tear through his skull. You’re trembling, shakes that tell him you’re barely holding on. Just like him.

He doesn’t respond. Words failed him the moment your mouths met.

Slowly, he reaches for you and brushes your hair over one shoulder. You turn away from him again, but he doesn’t falter. He takes in the curve of your spine beneath your dress, vertebrae pressing against fabric like the keys of a piano - each one a note he wants to play until you make music.

His knuckles graze your neck as he finds the zipper of your dress, his touch a promise, maybe a threat.

You can still stop him. You should stop him.

The sensation of his knuckles against your neck sends a jolt down your spine, electric and terrifying. Your eyelids flutter shut, your breath catching in your throat as goosebumps erupt across your skin despite the warmth from the steam. You stand there, immobilized by the suffocating haze of want and guilt until a shaky whimper escapes your lips. You reach out, your nails digging into the porcelain of the sink, your entire body taut like a bowstring pulled to its limit. “Please…”

That whimper nearly undoes him. You don’t tell him to get lost. Didn’t slam that door in his face like he wished you would’ve every goddamn day since you stopped being a girl and started walking through the world like a storm he couldn’t outrun.

So he takes his time, moving slow. Fingertips taking a hold of the zipper, he peels it down like he’s unveiling something sacred. Inch by inch, the curve of your back is exposed. His chest presses lightly against you, solid and impossibly warm.

You feel him - the breadth of his shoulders, the tension humming in his muscles, the heavy beat of his heart echoing your own. Your knees threaten to buckle. Your head drops forward, chin brushing your collarbone as a soft, strangled gasp slips free.

His touch feels safe, like coming home.

But you’ve been starved of this for far too long. You don’t want to be safe. You want him.

“Don’t…treat me like I’m made of glass.” You shift back, just a fraction - an invitation. A challenge. You want him to handle you like you’re real, not some memory wrapped in lace and nostalgia. Want him to stop tiptoeing around what you both know is real.

You want him to stop acting like he’s scared.

He tightens his grip on your hip, breath skating along the shell of your ear. “Patience, darlin’.” He murmurs it like a sin, his thumb hooking just beneath the loosened strap of your dress, teasing it down your shoulder. Slow. Deliberate. Driving you both insane.

He peels the dress from your shoulders, gentle, like he’s unwrapping a gift he never thought he’d be allowed to open. Fabric bunches at your elbows, the straps sliding down your arms, then pooling at your waist before he lets it fall entirely.

He drags his palms down your sides, feeling every tremor, every hitch of your breath against his chest. You’re so small in his hands. So soft. So damn perfect. He presses his mouth to your neck.

But you pull away and turn around, taking a moment to soak in the way his pupils dilate at the sight of your bare breasts. Slowly, not breaking eye contact, you pull off your panties, leaving you completely nude before him. He reaches out to touch you, but you don’t let him.

You pull back the shower curtain, stepping under the hot water. The shower douses your back as you watch him peel off his shirt and strip out of his jeans. You hold his gaze, fighting the urge to lower your eyes to the large tent in his boxers.

You don’t have a choice but to look when he steps out of the fabric. God, every single part of him is just so fucking big.

Logan watches the way the water drips from your hair, runs in rivulets down your collarbone, your breasts - perfect, full, begging for his mouth. You’re watching him like you expect him to hesitate. Like you think he won’t follow through.

He doesn’t give you time to second guess. Doesn’t give himself time either. He steps into the spray, steam swallowing you both, hot water scalding his back like penance.

Driving you back against the tile, hands braced on either side of you, he cages you in. Trapping you with him in this moment, this madness. “You sure?”

All you can do is nod, and he pushes you against the wall. Your head tips back as you close your eyes, a gasp escaping your lips as he bends, his mouth covering your nipple.

You taste like heaven and sin all wrapped into one. Your nipple hardens against his tongue, and he groans, the sound swallowed by the rushing water. You arch into him, offering yourself like an answer to a prayer he never knew how to say.

One hand finds your hip, anchoring you as he feasts on you, his mouth greedy and punishing. You’re soft everywhere he’s rough. It makes him want to mark you. Claim every inch of your skin until there’s no doubt in your mind who you belong to.

But you don’t belong to him, and you’re not his. Not really. Not in any way that matters beyond this steam-filled prison you’ve built together.

You laugh suddenly, bringing him out of his thoughts. You’re thinking about all the times you imagined this moment. Rutting against your pillow, soaking through the fabric, whispering his name into the mattress…

“What’s so funny, darlin’?” he murmurs against your skin, trailing kisses upwards, to the hollow of your throat. His fingers flex on your hip, urging you to open your eyes, to look at him. Steam swirls around your bodies, the water pounding down like judgement.

He signed his soul over to the Devil the second he walked into this bathroom.

You respond to his question by grabbing his face and bringing him closer. “Nothing.” Before he can probe further, you kiss him. You lick into his mouth and wrap your arms around him, holding him tight against you as the warm water blankets your bodies. You never take your hands off of him as he kisses down your neck again, trailing down to your belly.

You kiss him like you’re starved for it. Starved for him. Tongue sliding against his, soft and wet and desperate. He groans into your mouth, hands tightening on your waist as he deepens the kiss. He feels you melt against him, eager, finally in his arms where you belong.

Then you’re pulling him down - hands in his hair, guiding him lower, arching into his touch as he trails kisses down your throat, between your breasts, over the plane of your belly. Water slicks your skin, making you shine in the dim bathroom light. You shiver as his stubble scrapes against the sensitive skin of your stomach, sending sparks straight between your legs.

You get the urge to ask him something. Your voice comes out breathless and thick with longing. “What would you have done-” He bites you, causing you to gasp. “-if I had brought another guy?”

The unexpected question hits him like a blade between the ribs. If you’d brought someone else. If he had walked in tonight and seen you wrapped around another man - laughing, touching, kissing.

Jealousy roars in his veins, loud and primal. His grip on you tightens, almost bruising. Intentional. He lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes, steam and lust warping the space between you. His voice is gravel and venom and something dangerously close to confession.

“Broke him in half.” He drags the words out, letting them simmer in the heat between you.

That isn’t enough for you. “Sooo…” You lift a brow, aware you’re being a brat. “...you don’t like the idea of me fucking other men?”

A growl rumbles from his chest. He stands to his full height, bracing his forearm against the tile beside your head, leaning in until his breath ghosts over your lips. Close enough to kiss. Close enough to choke. “Not a fan, no.” He smirks, but there’s no humour in it. His thumb drags slowly across your bottom lip.

His words awaken something in you, an animalistic ache that you didn’t know existed. You roll your hips forward, feeling his hard length press against your thigh. “Well then…” You bite down on your lip, lashes fluttering as you look up at him. “Start getting more possessive and I won’t have to.”

Your hands find purchase on his strong biceps. “Tell me I’m your girl.”

The words wrap around his throat like chains. Sweet, deadly chains.

Tell me I’m your girl.

He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, slamming them against the wet tile and holding you there like a warning. Like a vow.

“What the hell do you think you’re doin’, huh?” He grinds the words out through clenched teeth.

Maybe you pushed too far. “Trying to make you jealous,” you admit. You kiss him, deep and strong, covering his mouth like it’s your last meal. “Is it working?”

The kiss hits him like a bullet to the chest - fast and lethal. You’re not playing fair, and he’s had enough of this game. Enough of you testing him, pushing him, making him say things he can’t take back.

He releases your wrists and shoves his hands into your wet hair, gripping tight as he angles your head back, breaking the kiss. Your throat arches beautifully, vulnerable and open, and he growls against your skin. “Smartass.” He mutters it like a curse before he drops to his knees in the slippery tub, taking your thighs in his hands and hauling you against him. Roughly, Logan yanks your hips towards his mouth. His tongue glides up your pussy over and over again, each swipe ending in a nibble.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, groaning, gasping for air. His lips are relentless, tugging on your clit and making you shudder. You don’t care who can hear you. You lift your leg, placing a foot on the edge of the tub behind him, fisting his hair with one hand and reaching up, gripping the windowsill behind you with another.

Logan devours you. You taste like honey and sin, like every wicked thought he’s ever had about you curled into one addictive flavour he can’t get enough of. His tongue drags deep and slow - marking you in the way only he can. He groans around your clit, the vibration making you jerk against his mouth.

“Ride my face, princess,” he rasps against your soaked cunt, his voice rough, one of his hands digging into your ass to keep you grounded. You want to be heard? Want the whole damn world to know who has you screaming? Fine.

He bites you, and your head pushes back against the wall, overcome with ecstasy. You roll your hips, thrusting into his mouth. He kisses and tugs, sucking on your inner thighs and swirling his tongue over your slit. He’s messy, his saliva mixing with your slick until your pussy is dripping.

“Fuck.” You’re trembling. You grind against his mouth faster. “More, Logan.”

More. Goddamn, you’re shameless when you want to be. Voice raw, hips grinding like you were born to chase this kind of pleasure. And he’s the bastard feeding it to you.

He bites down again, just hard enough to make you squeal, then he soothes it with his tongue, dragging slow circles around your clit while his fingers dig into your ass cheeks, spreading you wider. He wants every drop of you. Your juices coat his beard, slick and sweet, and he growls against you. “Greedy girl,” he mutters, lips brushing your clit with every word.

He takes your ass in both hands, diving inside of you with his tongue. You cry out, gripping his hair so tight you hear him hiss in pain. But he doesn’t stop fucking you. Not for a second.

Heat fills your stomach, and you throb as his tongue thrusts in and out you. You peer down, taking in the view, and you notice one of his hands has left your ass to tug on his own cock. The sight makes you feel dizzy.

He can’t get enough of your soaked cunt - dripping, pulsing, perfect. His tongue dives deep, chasing every ripple of your walls clenching around nothing. You taste too good. It feels too right. He hauls you harder against his mouth, growling as you grip his hair like reins, like you’re riding him to ruin. Good. You can use him. Take whatever you need.

He looks up at you, jerking himself slow and rough, thumb rubbing the slit as he pictures burying every inch of his cock inside of your tight heat. Stretching you wide. Making you take all of him until there’s no mistaking who owns that sweet, greedy pussy.

Every inch of your skin feels like it’s on fire, your body aching to come. “You wanna fuck me?” you ask him breathlessly, your eyes locked on to the way he pulls on himself.

The words hit him like a match to gasoline. Fuck yeah, he wants to fuck you. Has for years. Every damn day he told himself no, every night he lied awake wishing he could say yes.

He pulls back just enough to sit, brute force dragging him down to the slick porcelain floor. Legs splayed, dick jutting up hard and ready, beads of pre-come glistening in the bathroom light. He braces his arms behind him, holding himself steady for what he knows is coming.

His voice is like sandpaper when he answers. “Climb on, darlin’.” He tilts his chin up, eyes locking on yours. He reaches out, pulling you down on top of him.

Logan’s large frame in the tiny bathtub makes you want to laugh, and you almost do, but then he rolls his cock against your slit. You gasp. That’s one way to shut you up.

Logan lets out a low chuckle, his large hands traveling over your body. He lets you grind down slowly until you’re panting and clutching at his shoulders. He braces one hand on the small of your back, the other gripping your thigh, guiding your movements. Dominant because he knows that’s what you want. What you need.

“Easy, princess,” he murmurs against your neck, lips grazing damp skin as you writhe against him. “I’ve got ya.”

He doesn’t know if he can hold back much longer. You’re slick, swollen, rocking against him like you’re trying to set yourself on fire - and him with you.

Leaning down, you kiss and lick a path down his chest, his stomach. You nibble the prominent vein leading down to his length, wanting to take your time with him the same way he did with you. Prove to him that you know patience too.

You lower your mouth on his tip, taking him down your throat and giving him something to watch. Your mouth wraps around him like velvet, tight and wet and way too fucking good. He fists one hand in your hair - holding on, feeling you, reminding himself that this is real.

You take him deep, slow, teasing - like you’re trying to prove a point. Taunting him with that pretty mouth, showing him that you can be cruel and kind all at once. He watches you - every damn second of it. Lips stretched around his length, cheeks hollowing, eyes fluttering shut like you’re savouring him. You own him right now. His body, mind, and soul - it all belongs to you. “Damn, baby…”

The way his voice cracks. The plea in his tone. It’s too much.

Fuck patience.

You swing your leg over his hip, straddling him once again, lowering yourself on to him. You hold his cock in your fist as you sink down. The tip dips inside, and your nails dig into the meat of his shoulders as you squeeze your eyes shut. Your body tenses.

The second you sink down on him - slow and agonizing - he sees stars. White-hot and blinding. Your heat wraps around him, tight and perfect, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut too, suck in a breath through his nose, and pray to a God he doesn’t believe in that he doesn’t blow apart like some dumb kid getting his first blowjob.

Then he notices you’ve stopped, freezing halfway down, muscles tensed like you’re trying to hold yourself together. He hums, pleased with himself. Brave girl you are. Stubborn too. You don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking like he just won the lottery.

He shifts his hands to your hips, thumbs pressing into the bone, steadying you. Keeping you still, but he urges you forward. “C’mon, darlin’.”

You start to move, your hips circling at a slow pace. He doesn’t stop caressing you, motivating you. You drop lower, sinking an inch of him inside you, then another. And then you stop again. “Just…give me a second,” you breathe.

You move like you want to torture him. It is driving him absolutely insane, how good you feel wrapped around him. He lets out a harsh breath, eyes rolling back for just a second before snapping back open.

He nods at your request, his voice gruff and strained. “Take your time, princess.” His thumb strokes soothing patterns on your hip, trying to be gentle. For you.

You start to slide up and down, just barely. He’s long, and thick. The stretch burns, it hurts, but you sink further down. The pain is uncomfortable, but bearable.

Logan can feel your heat, your tightness, and you’re so wet - but you’re still fighting through the burn. He braces his hand firmly on your hip, holding you. Anchoring. Letting you feel him, letting you set the pace even though every part of his being wants to flip you over and pound into you until neither one of you can think.

“Easy, baby,” he murmurs, voice raspy, eyes hooded as he drinks in every reaction, every flinch, every moment of pleasure etched onto your face mixed with the sting.

Your hips shift - just a little - and he feels it. That instinct to move, to chase the rhythm, but you’re not ready yet. Not fully. He can still feel you tensing, fighting through the discomfort like you always do - never backing down, never asking for help.

He tightens his grip on your hip, firm but careful, using just enough pressure to still your movements. His other hand reaches up to cup your face, his thumb brushing away a strand of damp hair stuck to your cheek. He tilts your chin down so you have to look at him. “Give yourself a minute, darlin’,” he says, voice rough with restraint but softened by something he’s afraid to name out loud.

You lean down, stretched, a little sore, and filled. He’s inside you all the way. You kiss him, and then you start to move, rolling your hips. Both of you moan at the new sensation.

You settle on him fully and he swears he dies for a second, going to some version of heaven where he actually deserves to touch you like this. Where he doesn’t have to carry every regret, every rule he broke to get here. He deepens the kiss the second he feels you roll your hips - slow and uncertain - and he groans into your mouth, because holy fuck, you feel too good. Too right. It’s too much.

He kisses you harder, ruthlessly, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and biting just enough to make you gasp. His hands on your hips guide you, lifting you slightly before pulling you back down. “Ride me, baby.”

You moan as his tongue swipes over your bottom lip. “Okay.”

You rut against him. It isn’t long before the discomfort is gone completely, replaced by a throbbing warmth. You slide up and down his length, his cock moving in and out of you easily now. You move like you’ve found religion - hips rolling and taking him deep. Wet, slick sounds fill the cramped bathtub, drowned out only by your ragged breaths and the constant hum of the shower.

He watches you ride him. “That’s it, princess,” he murmurs, thumb pressing into the notch of your hip, guiding your rhythm when you stutter - when you get too greedy, too fast. “So damn good.”

You smile at his praise and lean back, gripping both sides of the tub as your hips roll. You tilt your head back, and you know his eyes are on you. God, you love the feeling of his eyes on your body as you put on a show for him. Water still streams down from the showerhead, droplets catching on your skin, sliding down your collarbone, disappearing into the valley between your breasts. He wants to lick every trace of it off of you.

But he doesn’t move. Just watches, letting you take control. Letting you show him exactly how much you want this - how much you want him.

You grind down faster. The thickness, his tip hitting you deep inside, his thumb finding its way to your swollen clit - it’s all too much, and also the best fucking thing you have ever felt. “Oh…” you groan, bouncing quicker now. You can feel your climax building.

You’re moving like you’re possessed - wild, uninhibited, chasing that edge like he’s not right there with you, praying for mercy. His thumb circles your clit, firm and relentless, matching the frantic pace of your hips. You’re soaked, swollen.

You’re close. So damn close.

And he wants it. Wants to feel you come apart on him. Wants every asshole at that party to wonder where the hell you disappeared to and what the fuck he’s doing to you. His voice is pure sin when he barks out, commanding, “Fuck me harder, baby.”

You grab his hand from your hip. You place the tip of his index finger on your tongue, slowly taking him down to the knuckle. You take his finger like it’s his cock - slow, wet, deep - and he swears he can feel it in his fucking toes. His hips jerk up on instinct, chasing friction, chasing relief he doesn’t deserve yet. Not when you’re still riding him like a damn fever dream.

He lets out a choked whimper - pathetic and desperate - and his free hand leaves your clit to dig into your thigh, like he needs leverage just to survive you. “B-Baby…” he tries to warn you, his voice cracked and breathless. He’s hanging on by a thread.

He’s going to come. You’ll never forget that sound.

It hits him like a freight train, merciless. His back bows off the porcelain, every muscle locking up as he lets himself go.

He comes hard, a groan ripping from his throat like he’s being torn apart from the inside out, your name spilling out like a curse and a prayer all at once. “Baby…fuck…”

You keep moving - relentless little vixen you are - and he lets you, even though he swears he’s going to die from it. He lets you chase your high while he tries to remember how the hell to breathe.

And then you come too. “God! Logan!”

His hands fly to your tits as you shake and shudder above him, your insides bursting with wave after wave of euphoric bliss. Your hips piston against him, jerking harder and faster until your climax begins to fade, and you collapse on top of him.

He holds you against him, his grip tight. You think you can feel him kissing your hair, but the world is still spinning, everything moving too fast to be sure. He’s right there, holding you through every tremor, every gasp, every shattered moan that leaves your lips.

Your breasts are soft and warm, nipples dragging across his chest with every shiver, and he groans, wrapping his arms around your waist. You’re exhausted, spent, and he holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the world - even though he’s the last man alive who should be allowed to.

He presses his lips to your wet hair, breathing you in, anchoring himself to this moment, even though he knows what comes next. Regrets. Rules. Consequences.

Still panting softly, you lift your head from his chest just enough to meet his gaze. Your cheeks are flushed, your lips parted, and your hair sticks to your skin in damp waves. There’s a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at your lips - one that says you don’t regret a single second of this.

Your smile hits him square in the chest, soft and sleepy and full of something he doesn’t deserve. He wants to kiss you again. Wants to taste that satisfaction on your lips, seal it in like a promise. But he doesn’t move. He can’t. Reality is creeping in now. Outside this bathroom, people are laughing, drinking, wondering what you two are doing. Your dad, his best friend, is out there, slapping backs and pouring drinks, telling stupid stories around the fire, completely clueless that Logan just ruined his trust.

You shift slightly, resting your chin on Logan’s chest so you can look at him better. Your fingers trail lazily over his shoulder, tracing invisible patterns along his skin. “You’re thinking too loud,” you murmur, your voice soft but steady. Your expression doesn’t lose that quiet happiness. With a smirk, you add, “They can wait five more minutes.” You press a lingering kiss to his collarbone before settling back against him, your ear over his heart.

He feels your kiss everywhere - in his ribs, his throat, in the marrow of his bones that have carried shame and guilt for far too long.

You’re right, he is thinking. Thinking about what happens now. About what happens when the water goes cold and you have to step back into a world where he’s supposed to be untouchable. Where you’re supposed to be off-limits.

But you dare him to stay. Dare the world to interrupt.

He exhales slowly, one arm curling tighter around your back. The other drifts absentmindedly through your hair, fingers threading through the strands like he’s done a thousand times in dreams he woke from ashamed.

“Yeah,” he mutters, voice low. “Five more minutes.”

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