#Friendly Gifts fic

[laura1633]

"There’s also the burning smell of tobacco that Charles insists is a sure fire way to identify a young alpha is interested. Max is still a little unsure of that though, he’s never met a young alpha who didn’t smell of burning tobacco." MAX I AM SOBBING listen to your Alpha once 🤣

Haha he is just far too oblivious and innocent 😂

[nostalgia-tblr]

i must admit i think fandom is far nicer to the jotuns than that thor movie they're in was. cos yeah they got their Magic Box stolen but the civilian applications of it are never specified (idk, Magic of some kind?) and we only ever see it used as a weapon, by a people who themselves only ever attack others unprovoked. the most sympathtic jotun we the audience ever meet is the main villain of the movie.

i think fandom's version of events is a much more nuanced one than what that film actually manages (or even attempts) to do on its own.

possibly my view of the Marvel American-Militarism-Is-Great Universe was jaded from the very start but... *gestures towards hollywood blockbusters in general*

[pyrriax]

pyrr pyrriax is significantly less productive when it spends several hours just bouncing between vcs in pursuit of human interaction

[synonymroll648]

👀👀

His shoulders were shaking with silent laughter with the third possibility he’d dreamed up (They looked at my hair from a distance and wondered why a dinosaur was carrying something with a head of chips or crisps or something and wanted to check it out) when frantic footsteps started dashing his way.

[mistyfoxxy]

Serious question to my followers and mutuals:

WHO WANTS TO BE MY VALENTINES 💝 ❤️💌💘💙💜💛🌹💖💞

[jayybugg]

nurse

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ghost avoids you but it's not what you think.

Warning: Slight Time Skips, Kinda Asshole Ghost?, Smut (18+), Use of Y/N, Language (?).

Word Count: 4.6K

Note: Now, I know in my master list I said that right now I would only be writing for the Slytherin Boys......but I have spiraled back into my Call of Duty, specifically Ghost. Now this is just an experiment, I don't know how this will go over but if you guys like it then maybeeee I'll post my other fandom fics that I have.

Also! This is a birthday gift for my beautiful gem, @slytherinslut0 , so everyone thank her and wish her a happy birthday. As always, @cafekitsune is on the banner.

Taskforce 141 didn’t pay any attention when they were told that they would have a new nurse on the base. They assumed it would be another male, just like everyone who got employed here.

So, only one could imagine their shock when the base’s doctor, Dr. Moscaw, introduced a pretty little thing like you to the team.

“This is Y/N. She will work under me. Your first point of contact for anything medical-wise.” Moscaw spoke, “Don’t go scaring her off, boys.”

There were grumbles and protests as Dr. Moscaw left you with the team. You cleared your throat as you gave them all a nervous smile. All their eyes were on you, surveying you almost like prey. A certain man with a skull mask being the most intense one. “Um, right. You all desperately need an annual check-up. So, whenever you all have a moment, please stop by the medical ward. I would love to update your records and meet you all.”

Before any of them could say anything, you had scurried off.

Over the next few weeks, they all came in one by one. Introducing themselves as you went through updating their records.

First came Captain Price. You liked to think that he came in to lead by example and not to get out of his mountain of paperwork. Then Kyle came in the next day. He begged you to call him “Gaz”, saying that nobody on base ever calls him Kyle.

Not long after Gaz came, Johnny waltzed into your office. He was flirty but overall friendly. Johnny, just like Gaz, begged you to call him Soap like everyone else. He was the one who referred to you as a breath of fresh air amidst the testosterone-filled air. Often, he and Gaz came to your office. They always claimed to be checking up on you, but you knew it was because they were hiding from their duties.

“Where is…. um, Ghost? Or is his name Simon? It’s two first names on this file.” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows at the lack of information in his records. Soap chuckled, glancing up from his phone to you. “Ghost is the name he’s gonna give ‘ya. It’s the name that we all know him by.”

“A field name, I assume?” You asked, looking up from your computer. Gaz and Soap nodded. “Yep. His name for plenty of reasons, but that’s neither here nor there.” Gaz waved his hand dismissively.

“Well, is he going to come in for a check-up? He doesn’t have another doctor or anything listed.” You sighed. “His medical record is empty. There is nothing on here, other than his name and height. No birthday, no past medication history, nothing.”

“Of course, that’s all that’s on there. That’s all anyone knows about him.” Soap laughed. “He’s not gonna come in here for a check-up.”

“What? Why not?” You asked, closing your computer.

“Too much information.” Gaz shrugged. “Nobody knows anything about him. It’s a shocker that he even allowed his real name to be on those records.”

“So, nobody knows if this guy even goes to the doctor?” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “That’s insane.”

“Ya may be right, but that means nothing to Ghost.” Soap said.

“And insane is basically his middle name. The man does whatever he wants.” Gaz added.

“Do you think he will come in if I just ask?” You pondered to the men.

Gaz and Soap glanced at each other before shrugging. “If you bat those pretty eyelashes at any man on this base, they’ll be eating out the palm of your hand,” Soap said.

“But Ghost isn’t like the average man. He’s not easily swayed like most.” Gaz added, “But I mean, it won’t hurt to try.”

With the encouragement from Gaz and Soap to just try to ask him, you spent the next few weeks attempting to track Ghost down. Unfortunately for you, he lived up to his name very well. It was like every time you went looking for him, everyone had “just seen him.”

Eventually, you found him, by pure coincidence. You were walking to your car, getting ready to leave the base for the day when your eyes landed on a 6’4, muscular man who donned a skull balaclava. You hadn’t seen him since the day that Price had introduced you to the team. He seemed bigger and a bit more intimidating than before, but your determination outweighed your nervousness.

You walked up to him, clearing your throat. Ghost stopped fiddling with his motorcycle to drag his eyes up to your face. His eyes were dark and analytical as he scanned your face before tracing down your body. You felt self-conscious of his wondering gaze.

“Whatcha ‘ya want?” His voice was deep, his accent coming out heavier than you thought it was.

“Um, I’m the new nurse.” You squeaked out before clearing your throat.

“I know.”

“Right.” You took a deep breath. “Your medical records are empty and you’re the only one who hasn’t come in for a check-up.”

There was a brief silence between you two as you waited for him to say something, anything. When you got the hint that he wasn’t going to say anything, you decided to just push forward and ask.

“Will you come in for one? And maybe introduce yourself a little more?”

Ghost stared at you a little longer before turning back to his motorcycle. “No.”

Your eyes widened at the blatant refusal. You raised your eyebrow, crossing your arms. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“Do ‘ya not know what ‘no’ means? Aren’t ‘ya educated?” Ghost grunted; his back still turned to you.

“You can’t just…. You must fill out these records somehow!”

“No, I don’t.”

You narrowed your eyes at Ghost, huffing slightly. “It’s mandatory to at least get an annual check-up.”

“So, I’ve heard. Don’t care.” He spoke again, throwing one leg over the motorcycle. He started it up, gripping the handles. His eyes focused on your face again as he revved the engine.

“But-”

Before you could even think about responding, Ghost had sped off, leaving you in the dust.

“And he just sped off?” Soap laughed. Gaz smacked his arm, giving you an apologetic look.

“Ignore Soap. He has a terrible sense of humor.” Gaz rolled his eyes. “But we told you he was hard to sway.”

“I just don’t understand why he doesn’t want to come in.” You groaned, “Maybe he just doesn’t want to get to know me?”

“It’s Ghost, you aren’t supposed to understand him.” Gaz shrugged. “But I doubt it’s you that he’s against.”

You let another groan, causing the two men to chuckle.

“Hell, Darlin’, you might just make the man nervous as hell. As you can see, we don’t have many pretty females around here.” Soap leaned back in his chair, grinning at you.

“Me? Make Ghost nervous? Please.” You raised an eyebrow, rolling your eyes. Soap shrugged, “You never know, he could be.”

“You never know,” Gaz said, agreeing with Soap.

“Whatever.” You muttered, ending the conversation.

Weeks had passed and Ghost gave no sign of even considering stepping into the medical ward or trying to talk to you. He evaded you any chance he got. You told Dr. Moscaw and Price about the predicament with Ghost. Both waved it off and said, “He’s Ghost, that’s just how he is.

When your official first three months of working on the base had come around, Soap and Gaz had invited you out to the bar to celebrate.

“It’ll be everyone. Cap, Laswell, König, hell, even Ghost said he would come.” Soap smiled at you. You scoffed slightly at the revelation that Ghost was going to show his masked face at the bar. “Are we sure he’s coming for me, or rather, the drinks?” You asked, your eyes focused on the computer screen in front of you.

Gaz chuckled. “He refused to go until we said it was a celebration for you.”

“Funny that the man that evades me wants to come to my celebration.” You muttered.

“You know, he’s probably around you more than you think,” Soap said, causing you to look up at him with a raised eyebrow. Soap shrugged, continuing, “I mean, he’s known for being around without others knowing, hence the name Ghost.”

“Like he sees me, but I don’t see him?” You asked. Soap and Gaz nodded.

“Think of it like he is collecting information on you. The poor guy lives and breathes our missions and the military. It’s all he knows. It works with the idea that you make the man nervous.” Gaz said, patting your back as he and Soap filed out of your office.

Gaz’s and Soap’s words stuck to you. Maybe you had gone about approaching Ghost all wrong. He was quieter than Gaz and Soap and obviously more secretive, given the blank medical record and the mask. Maybe you should let him approach you, let him feel you out to see if you’re trustworthy or not.

When the night of the celebration rolled around, you promised yourself that you would not pester Ghost. Despite the growing need to get to know him and your nursing instincts to make sure he was healthy; you were going to let him come to you.

You walked into the bar, tugging slightly at your dress that rose from sitting in the taxi. Your black mini dress hugged your curves and had a low neckline that showed off your cleavage with your matching strappy heels. Although Soap and Gaz had to you to come dressed up, you debated calling the taxi back and going home to change. You were going to be with your co-workers, who were most likely going to be in jeans.

You sighed, pushing open the door to the bar. Your eyes snapped over to the large table in the back of the bar where all your coworkers sat. “Y/N!” Gaz yelled, jumping up from his seat. He grabbed your arm, escorting you to the table. Everyone shot you a smile, except König and Ghost, who both donned a balaclava. Although, you could tell from the crinkle in König’s eyes that he was smiling at you.

“The guest of honor is finally here.” Laswell smiled at you. “Congratulations on sticking it out at the base for three months. I must admit, I thought these boys would scare you away by now.”

“No, I’m tougher than I look.” You joked, “Plus, everyone is nice. I felt welcomed.”

Gaz and Soap gave Ghost an unmistakable side eye that you caught, and if you caught it, then everyone at the table caught it. You also didn’t miss the narrowed eyes that Ghost gave back to Gaz and Soap.

“A round of shots! For our new family member.” Price winked at you, giving you a warm smile.

That’s how the night went on, chatting and drinks getting passed around. It didn’t take you long to get buzzed. You kept true to your promise to yourself and didn’t go looking for interactions with Ghost.

However, you felt his eyes on you. It was like they never left you, always following your every movement.

It felt familiar.

Ghost stayed quiet the whole night, not cracking a chuckle at any jokes or taking part in the conversations. His eyes wandered the bar as if he was looking for any type of escape. Whenever your eyes met his, he looked away, his eyes hardening in the process.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” You said, feeling the alcohol finally run through you and back up your throat. Although everyone was too occupied with their conversations to hear you. You stumbled your way to the bathroom, pushing open the door. You wasted no time, bending over the toilet and vomiting what little contents that were in your stomach.

“I knew I should’ve eaten before….” You whispered to yourself.

“Yeah, ‘ya should have. Not very nurse of ‘ya.” A deep voice echoed behind you.

You jumped, turning around, clutching your chest as your eyes landed on Ghost. He stood behind you, arms crossed, as he leaned against the stall door.

“God, when the fuck did you get in here?” You asked, your eyes traveling down his figure. This would be the first time that you had ever seen Ghost in civilian clothes. Even on relaxed days on the base, Ghost wore full tactical gear. Tonight, he opted for a compression tee and black sweatpants, as if he was planning to go to the gym after all of this.

Which wouldn’t be surprising for Ghost.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos.” Your eyes landed on his sleeve, which seemed to move as he unconsciously flexed his muscles.

“I know ‘ya didn’t.” Ghost said, offering his hand out to you. You took it gratefully, standing up to your two feet. Ghost handed you some mouthwash and gum, along with your purse.

“Didn’t want nobody shifting through ‘ya stuff.” Ghost said when he saw the look that you gave him, “Also thought ‘ya might want to touch up ‘ya make up.”

“Thank you.” You gave him a small smile. He nodded, turning on his heel to leave out the bathroom. You swigged the mouthwash around, spitting into the sink. You freshen up your makeup before popping the piece of gum in your mouth.

You made your way back to the table, sitting down when a waitress came and dropped a personal pan of pepperoni pizza in front of you with water. “Oh,” You looked up at her, “I didn’t order this.”

“One of your friends ordered it for you. Told me to bring it when you came back to your seat.” She smiled and walked away. You glanced down at the pizza with a smile. Pizza was your favorite greasy food; it matched the rumbling of your drunk stomach perfectly.

You looked up at Soap and Gaz, the only two people who would know about your guilty pleasure food. Soap was leaning against the table flirting with another waitress while Gaz made bets with Price on football games. You decided you would thank one of them later when they weren’t busy.

4 am finally rolled around, causing the night to end. Gaz had called you a cab, walking you out as everyone said their goodbyes. Ghost had already mounted his motorcycle and sped off into the night. Once Gaz got you settled in the backseat, you smiled at him. “Thanks, Gaz. Oh, and thank you for the pizza, too.”

Gaz raised his eyebrow. “What pizza?”

“The pizza you ordered me when I went to the bathroom.” You clarified.

“I didn’t order you a pizza, hell, I didn’t even know you went to the bathroom.” Gaz said before chuckling a bit with a mischievous smirk, “The only person who ordered food was Ghost.”

Before you could ask anything more, Gaz tapped the roof of the car and your taxi pulled off.

You went even longer without seeing Ghost after the bar. It was almost as if he had just disappeared into thin air. You tried to question Gaz and Soap, but they claimed they knew nothing about it. Saying that it was probably a “lucky guess” but if anything they had told you about Ghost was true, nothing he did was just a lucky guess.

You pushed all your questions to the back of your mind, as you knew you weren’t going to get any answers any time soon. You were cleaning up the office as your day was ending. 141 were out on a mission, a relatively relaxed one, so your office was quiet and easy to pack up rather than having to tell Soap to stop touching stuff every 5 minutes.

You hummed to yourself, not taking notice that your office door had swung open.

“You’re terrible at being aware of ‘ya surroundings.”

You jumped, a squeal falling from your mouth. “You have to stop doing that!”

Ghost stood at your door, in sweatpants and a hoodie. His arms crossed as he stared at you through his mask. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. You suddenly felt small like the room was closing in on you due to Ghost’s tall frame.

“What are you doing here?” You asked. Ghost’s eyes seemed to widen, as if he wasn’t sure why he was there either.

“Give me a check-up.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, glancing over at the clock. It was 7:35 pm, and the base was basically empty.

“It can’t wait til tomorrow?” You asked. Ghost took a step closer to you, “I thought you wanted to get to know me?”

“I do but-”

“Then give me the check-up.” Ghost grunted, sitting on the bench. His large frame made the normally large bench look small under him.

You sighed softly, getting out your equipment to start his check-up. You stay silent as you slip on your latex gloves after washing your hands. “So, I’m guessing something happened on the mission.”

Ghost looked over to you, his eyes coated in a small dose of confusion. “What?”

“I mean, you seemed very adamant about not getting a check-up before and now you’re here after a mission. I just assumed maybe something happened.” You clarified as you moved to check his heartbeat.

It took everything in you not to let your hands wander across his chest as you pulled away from him to turn to your computer and record the data.

“Nothing happened. Just built up some confidence.” He said, getting off the bench to stand behind you closely.

“O-oh…. confidence for what?” You took a deep breath, your eyes focusing on the computer screen.

Ghost didn’t answer your question, instead, he grabbed your shoulders and spun you around to face him. “You’re very annoying, you know that?”

“What?” Your eyes widened.

“You’re always around, smelling good. In these scrubs that hug your body tighter than any other scrubs I’ve ever seen.” Ghost muttered, “Always laughing at Soap’s stupid jokes. Always getting pizza when you know you aren’t supposed to.”

“I try to avoid you and ignore you, but you just crawl your little ass into my mind anyways. All mission…. just thinking and wondering what you’re doing.” Ghost continued.

“Is this your way of admitting that you’ve been thinking about me?” You asked.

Ghost stayed silent. His eyes stay trained on you, no words or sounds coming from him. His hand moved to take a piece of your hair and twirling it around his finger.

“Um, we should finish the check-up so we can go.” You spoke softly. Ghost ignored you, dipping his face into your neck. He took a deep breath. “God, you smell heavenly.”

“Ghost....”

“I need you.” He grumbled, “I need you all around me. I’ve learned everything I can about you and all I can think about is how I need to feel about you.”

“How I need to ruin you.”

You felt a knot in your stomach at his words, heat pooling inside you. “R-ruin me?”

“Beyond belief.” Ghost confirmed, “Give me the green light.”

You stayed silent as Ghost pushed his knee between your legs, pressing his knees gently against your core, causing a whimper to fall from your mouth. He lifted his mask to reveal his lips, pressing against your neck in soft, wet kisses. “Y/N. Answer me.”

“I….” You gasped for air, “P-please…do it.”

Ghost didn’t need to hear anything else. He lifted you easily, throwing you on the bench. He yanked your top off, groping your breast. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about these since the bar. So soft and plump…” Ghost grumbled, pulling your bra down and latching his mouth to your nipple.

A small moan fell from your mouth at the actions. His tongue swirled around your nipple before he pulled away with a slight “pop”. He left a trail of kisses down your chest to your naval. He tugged down your pants, throwing them in the same direction as your top. He groaned at the sight of the wet spot in your panties.

“So wet and ready for me. Huh, love?” Ghost said, blowing softly on your clothed clit.

You whined softly, nodding your head. He slapped your thigh, his eyes looking up at you. “I want to hear use your words. Let me hear that pretty voice that has been plaguing my mind for these past few months.”

You let out a sigh as Ghost pressed the pad of his tongue to your slit through your panties, teasing you. “Yes…. I’m wet and ready for you.”

“Good fucking girl, Lovie.” Ghost chuckled, moving your panties to the side to latch his mouth to your clit. He sucked and lapped at your clit harshly, your moans becoming uncontrollable as he ate you out like a starved man. His tongue teased your slit, flicking his tongue up and down.

He gripped your thighs tighter, pulling you closer to him. His nose pressed against your clit, stimulating you more and more. “Oh God, fuck, Ghost.” You moaned, your hands reaching out to grip the top of his balaclava.

“That’s right. I want you moaning my name like it’s the only thing that pretty little mind knows.” Ghost muttered, slipping two fingers into you as he kept lapping up all your juices. Your thighs tightened around his face as you felt your climax coming.

Ghost groaned at the action, his cock twitching with anticipation. You tossed your head back as pleasure coursed through your body. “I’m about to cum, fuck, I’m s’close.”

Your words seem to push Ghost further into sending you over the edge. His tongue moved faster against you as his fingers matched his pace. Your mind was blanking from the orgasm that rushed over your body. Ghost pulled his fingers out slowly as he pulled away from your swollen clit. His mouth was covered in your slick as he smirked. “Taste so sweet, Angel.” He spoke.

He pushed his two fingers into your mouth, groaning at the warmth of it. You suck on his fingers, tasting yourself on them as you swirled your tongue around. “Such a good, eager girl. So happy to taste yourself on my fingers.” Ghost whispered, pushing them down your throat so he could hear your gags.

Ghost pulled away, yanking his sweatpants and boxers down. His cock sprang out, revealing its large length. It hit his abdomen; the tip leaking with pre-cum. Your eyes looked down at him, eyes widening at the sight. “My God….” You whispered.

Ghost grabbed the base of his shaft, jerking himself off slightly before pulling you to the edge of the bench and wrapping one of your legs around his waist while propping the other one on his shoulder. “I need this pretty pussy wrapped around my cock, taking every inch of me.” Ghost growled. He rubbed his tip up and down your slick, coating it in it.

“Tell me how much you want this, Lovie. How bad do you want me to fuck you?” Ghost demanded; his eyes focused on you. You let out a whiny moan, looking up at him, “Please fuck me. I want your cock so bad.”

Ghost pushed into you, filling you up slowly but surely. Ghost groaned, sinking into you until he was fully inside you. “S’fucking tight. Gonna fuck this pretty cunt until it’s molded to only take my cock.” Ghost groaned, snapping his hips forward for a forceful thrust. A guttural moan fell from your mouth, as Ghost gripped your throat with both hands, pounding into you at a ruthless pace.

“M’been dreaming of this since the day I laid eyes on your fucking application picture.” Ghost muttered, “Such a pretty fucking girl. Batting your eyelashes at everyone.”

Ghost’s hands moved down to your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. Your moans were drowned out by the loud slapping of your skin. If it wasn’t for the way that Ghost was viciously railing you, you would be concerned that someone would walk past and hear you.

“Such a fucking whore. Getting fucked in your office…. you like being railed after work? Hmm?” Ghost hissed out as you clenched around him.

“You look s’pretty being full of my cock.” Ghost muttered, leaning down to kiss and nip your neck. You whined, feeling another knot form in your stomach. You clenched around Ghost, making him groan. “M’close…. s’close…” You spoke in between moans.

“Go ahead and make a mess on my cock, baby. Cum all over this cock like the slut you are.” Ghost demanded. It didn’t take long for your legs to shake and for Ghost’s cock to be drenched in your climax. He slowed his thrusts, pulling out of you. You whimpered at the lost feeling.

“Get up, Lovie. I want to cum all in that pretty mouth of yours.” Ghost said, pulling you off the bench and to your knees. You looked up at him as he pumped himself. Slapping his cock against your lips, you opened your mouth to let him slip in.

“S’fucking warm. Fucking made to take my dick in every fucking hole you have.” Ghost muttered, his hand snaking around the back of your head to shove his dick further down your throat. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you tasted all your juices that drenched his cock. Saliva trailed down your chin as Ghost thrust in and out of your mouth at an unforgiving pace. “A fucking slut you are, taking my dick so well. Fuck.” Ghost groaned as his hip stuttered slightly. His cock twitched in your mouth before ropes of cum shot down your throat.

Your eyes screwed shut as Ghost stayed deep in your throat, making sure you swallowed all his cum. He pulled out, bending down to level as you looked up at him. “So, this was going through your mind all this time.” You spoke breathlessly.

“Shocked, Lovie?” Ghost smirked, lifting you back to your feet.

“A little.” You nodded. Ghost tilted your head back to press a rough but gentle kiss to your lips. “Well, I suggest you get used to it because there will be more of that.”

“So, you made your move, huh?” Soap grinned wickedly at Ghost, who sat further down the table. Ghost’s eyes shot to Soap’s as he narrowed them at the man.

“Don’t even try to deny it, LT.” Gaz said, his eyes staying trained on his phone. “All the talk around the base is how a certain skull mask-wearing lieutenant is attached to the hip of the pretty little nurse.”

“She must’ve really made you nervous if it took you almost three months to make a move on her.” Soap teased.

“I did more than make a move on her, Sergeant.” Ghost spoke, “That pretty little nurse is now my pretty little nurse.”

Ghost smirked underneath his mask as he looked between Gaz and Soap. “So, it would do you both good to watch your hands the next to you hug her. Would hate to have to break your fingers off for wandering too far for your own good.”

Without another word, Ghost sauntered out of the meeting room, leaving Soap and Gaz dumbfounded.

“Hm, I was wondering when that boy was going to make a move.” Price hummed from his spot, “All that begging to hire her to this base and took nearly four months to even talk to her.”

“Wait, what? Ghost knew about her before she even got to base?” Gaz asked.

“Ghost was the one who pulled her application.” Price said, “Said ‘his future girl’ had applied, and I needed to get her on base.”

Gaz and Soap looked at each other before sighing. Of course, Ghost knew you before you knew him.

Because it wouldn’t be Ghost if he didn’t.

[earthtooz]

jealous ratio because i really like him like that, fluff, reader is a menace

“who gave you those flowers?” 

ratio’s voice is demanding and snarky, eyes ablaze with a similar kind of disgust when you walk into your home with a bouquet in your arms. putting your keys on the counter, you greet him with your usual smile and prance over to place a kiss on his scowling expression.

which softens momentarily at the feel of your lips on his skin.

“hi, veritas,” you greet.

“welcome home, love,” he murmurs in return, smiling when looking at you, but the scowl returns when he makes eye contact with the flowers. “who gave you these?”

“aventurine did.”

the world freezes over with ratio’s silent rage and you’re the only one untouched despite being the catalyst. searching for a vase nearby, you’re more than content to let his possessiveness simmer, in fact, it’s something you are used to now.

when you manage to dig up an empty vase from a cabinet nearby, ratio’s footsteps scurry towards you.

“you’re keeping them?” he asks.

“why wouldn’t i? they’re a gift.”

“a gift? 

he’s fuming, absolutely fuming now as he watches you fret over the bouquet, trimming the ends, putting water in the bot, arranging them to look nice and lovely, all whilst your lover stared at you hawkishly. you pretend not to notice the way his eye twitches occasionally, allowing him to watch you work.

his mind must be working at a million thoughts per second, so you’ll just let him be until he can talk to you again.

“why did he give you flowers? there must be an occasion that i am unaware of.”

after finishing your final touches, you turn around with all the garbage in your hands and walk past the scholar. he follows. “to say thanks. he recently consulted me for one of his projects and the results were fruitful, so he bought me a bouquet in gratitude.” 

pink roses. last time ratio read, they were supposed to symbolise gratitude, the ideal choice to send to someone who has helped you. 

“well. if that’s the case then he owes me a planet’s worth of flowers.”

“lighten up, veritas, he was just being friendly.”

“friendly?” he all but snaps. 

“yes, friendly. is there an issue with that?” 

“that gambler being friendly implies to him being up to no good.” he attaches himself to your hip, hovering over you as you make a mug of coffee. “he is a menace, an undesirable anomaly, a type one error, i advise you keep your interactions with him limited. only one of us should need to deal with his antics so i suppose i’ll have to bite the bullet on this one, darling.”

“you are so brave, my hero. are you done? anymore talk about aventurine and i might just think you’re in love with him.” ratio splutters at your wild accusations, missing the way you smile under your breath. then, you throw your arms around the scholar and he doesn’t return the embrace, still dumbfounded. “i missed you and the first thing you do when i come home is talk about another man.”

he scoffs, lifting you up onto the kitchen counter. there, he rests his hands on either sides of the counter beside you. “your mouth is twice as foul as his.”

“and yet you still love me.”

“marginally.”

“you!”

tomorrow, you return home to a luxurious bouquet of red roses sitting on the kitchen island.

i'm writing this as a pregame to the diluc fic i have in the works.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[corinthianism]

corinthianism's fic recs

here are my personal favorite fanfics! idk how often i'll update this, but i hope you like them as much as i do :) *indicates smut

last updated: march 26, 2024

MARVEL

loki laufeyson - from the void, with love — by whirlybirbs (my fav fanfic of all time!!! i think about this fic several times in a day bro) - riptide — by starks-hero - the tailor* (series) — by birdofhermes (ao3) - time after time (series) — by goldencherriess (ao3) - a friend from work — by cozy_the_overlord (ao3)

thor odinson - god of fertility* (request) — by charnelhouse - highway don't care (but i do, i do)* (part one, part two, part three) — by spacelabrathor

peter parker (andrew garfield) - agree to disagree — by delicate-dorothea - nerdy peter (request) — by webslingingslasher - good boy x bad girl trope (request) — by webslingingslasher - hold you here, my loveliest friend* — by p3mybeloved - your friendly neighborhood sensitive spider* — by jin0 - glad you're home — by withahappyrefrain - the mechanics of a soul — by irndad - 3 is the magic number* — by withahappyrefrain - crush — by ptersparkers - as it goes — by forever-rogue - here comes the sun (part one, part two, part three) — by withahappyrefrain - stability, reciprocity, and a romance for the ages (series) — by privateanxieties (ao3 - need an account to read)

steven grant (moon knight) - hold me close — by stormkobra-5 - gift of min* — by astroboots - puzzles* — by stormkobra-5 - first time* — by luvpedropascal - domestic adonis* — by peterman-spideyparker - where it starts — by silversweetpea - fallen from heaven, grown on earth* (series) — by davosmymaster (ao3) - call me poe* — by kittyfandom (ao3) - elemental — by batsingotham (ao3) - the boy with the thorn in his side — by eating_flowers (ao3)

marc spector (moon knight) - not him — by loud-mouth-loser - it's worth it, it's divine* — by the-archxr - i'm getting to know someone — by davosmymaster (ao3)

wade wilson (deadpool) - tea and sympathy (series) — by bucketsoffrogs (ao3)

SHERLOCK (BBC)

sherlock holmes - your hidden strength — by okay-j-hannah - sublime dexterity* (part one, part two) — by daydreamtofiction - literally everything by starks-hero

SUPERNATURAL

sam winchester - playing house (part one, part two) — by uncouth-the-fifth - baby i'll stay (heaven can wait) — by uncouth-the-fifth - move over.* — by ggwritesstuff - where's your head at?* — by beau55515 - birthdays: sam winchester style* — by karleekarma (ao3) - the comforts of home — by zepskies - under the hood* — by shawslut

dean winchester - whether you like it or not — by kbeautimous (ao3) - reading you wrong — by zepskies - cherished — by thatonewriter15 (ao3) - soft touch — by wearywinchester - i love her, that's why* — by kaleldobrev - drivin' me crazy* — by lis-likes-fics

castiel - salt n' lick* — by aperfectgrace (ao3) - a bite of apple pie (series) — by ac_deanc (ao3)

THE SANDMAN

the corinthian - bring me a dream* (series, ongoing) — by placeinthemiddleofnowhere - nihil — by lis-likes-fics

dream/morpheus - sweet dreams (are made of this) — by stranger-nightmare

CRIMINAL MINDS

aaron hotchner - from eden — by heliotropehotch - gold star — by honeypiehotchner - love, an abstract concept — by luveline - honeymoon phase* (series) — by hotchsbitch (ao3)

THE BOYS

soldier boy (he's absolutely horrible but so. so. hot.) - break me down* (series) — by zepskies (go read their other stuff too!) - talk to me — by zepskies

homelander (also absolutely horrible. would sleep with him.) - if i can't have you — by watchstarscollide - milky white* — by after-witch

GAME OF THRONES

jaime lannister - i'm not made by design — by ichorai (this legitimately changed my brain chemistry)

STAR WARS

obi-wan kenobi - like turning on the light* — by full-time-make-believer (deactivated acc) (this also changed the trajectory of my life) - where it wasn't* — by 221bshrlocked - your thoughts are loud — by spidersbane - empty me out* — by 221bshrlocked - house of memories* (series) — by meshlasolus - bad idea, right?* (series) — by mischiefling (ao3) - you make me feel like dancing — by saradika (ao3) - it's a wonderful lie — by firstofficerwiggles (ao3) - temptation's kiss — by karasong (ao3) - you make my dreams* — by wickedscribbles (ao3) - like a living mirage — by karasong (ao3) - broken drought* — by rosalindbeatrice (ao3) - never grow up — by doihavetoloseyoutoo (ao3) - never ending story — by kybercrystal (ao3) - volveré* — by kxnobi (ao3)

din djarin (the mandalorian) - the savior* (part one, part two, part three) — by dindjiarin - significant — by softlyspector - touching din — by archieimagines - uncharted territory* — by pedrito-friskito - creed* — by wheresarizona - home is wherever i'm with you* (part one, part two, part three) — by saradika

DRACULA (BBC)

count dracula - the székely* (series) — by theplumsoldier

LOTR/THE HOBBIT

thranduil oropherion - a boon* (series) — by inksplots (ao3) - beauty and the beast (series) — by tamurilofrivendell (ao3)

DOCTOR SLEEP

dan torrance - of monsters and men* — by helaintoloki & obitwo - domestic life (headcanons) — by thornsinmycrown - smut alphabet* — by daincrediblegg

[dramaticals]

through the wringer

pairing: theodore nott x ravenclaw reader

summary: theo tries to get your attention by spoiling you with gifts. you pretend not to notice the shift just to mess with him. childhood friends to lovers. / requested by @the-empty-refrigerator.

word count: 1,117

author’s note: i've also posted this on ao3 but as a theo x hermione fic, and so if you're interested in reading that instead: click here. reblogs / comments are always appreciated.

"What's this?" You ask, blinking in confusion at the box of your favourite sweets in his hands.

Theo places the box in front of you before settling into his usual spot at the Ravenclaw table. Your housemates have now made a conscious effort to leave room for him, considering he had no qualms about squeezing his way in to sit beside you. It's as if he didn't have his own assigned table.

"I thought you Ravenclaws could read."

"You're a twat."

"And here I was, doing something nice for you." Theo sighs. Always the flair for the dramatics. "It's Valentine's Day."

You eye him suspiciously before finally accepting the sweets and his reasoning. For as long as you've known him (and you've known him long enough that you couldn't even remember not knowing him), the two of you have never exchanged anything on Valentine's Day.

"Right, well, thanks." You say, offering him a nudge of your shoulder. His cheeks were pink. "I suppose I could share since I didn't get you anything."

Theo looks at you expectantly before he gives you a slow nod. His facial expression is unreadable, but something flashes in his eyes that you couldn't quite decipher. "How generous."

"I got you this."

You look up from your parchment, settling your quill down carefully to not spill ink. The library was nearly empty at this hour, and Madam Pince was an hour and a half away from kicking you out.

"Another present?"

"Are you complaining that I'm spoiling you?"

"I don't reckon a fresh box of the cheapest quills warrants you tossing the word spoiling around."

"It's not my fault these happen to be your favourite to write with."

"Hmm, touché." You sound, accepting the pack of quills. "Will that be all?"

Theo blinks, his eyes darting between his gift and you. He opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again. Nothing comes out.

You shake your head and begin to pack your things away. You bite back a smile as Theo, ever the conversationalist, is clearly at a loss for words. "Come on, Nott. Walk me back to my common room."

"It seems Theodore's quite fond of you." Luna points out as soon as Theo leaves you with another present. This time, it was a locket charmed to hold as many tiny pictures as you liked. Being quite the sentimental person, this gift was thoughtful and just proved to you that Theo knew you—not that it needed to be proven.

"I know." You say, touching the locket he had secured around your neck. There's only one photo in it currently; a picture of you and Theo, laughing as you attempted to swipe frosting across his nose.

"You seem fond of him."

You nod and smile lightly. "I am."

"He doesn't know."

You shake your head. After Theo secured the locket around you, you questioned what the occasion was, and Theo shrugged, claiming he was just messing around with a spell. He couldn't hold your gaze, and his tells when lying were practically screaming in your face. Theo excused himself quickly when you gave him a very friendly side-hug in thanks, teasingly claiming just how good of a friend he was to you.

"I refuse to tell him until he can be a big boy and use his words."

"Are you going to Hogsmeade this weekend?" Theo asks, cutting through the welcomed silence as the two of you sit near the Black Lake.

"Mhm," you sound noncommittally. "As I do every time we're permitted to go."

"Right," Theo nods. He's fiddling with a loose string on the blanket the two of you are sitting on. "Wanna go with me?"

Your brows lift slightly, and your eyes flicker to his. "Don't I always?"

"I mean, yes."

"Okay," you say slowly. You pause long enough for him to interject. When he doesn't, you sigh and shake your head. "So I'll meet you at our usual meeting spot."

"Okay."

"I can pay for myself, Theo."

Theo shakes his head, making quite a scene of pulling out a few sickles and galleons (the price of two butterbeers and a slice of apple pie did not warrant the number of galleons he placed on the table).

"I'm well aware." Theo says, waving off your attempt at tossing in the amount for your share. "But I'm paying for it."

"Then the next one's on me."

"That's not how this works."

"This?"

"Yes."

"What's 'this' then?"

Theo's jaw clenches, and he exhales a breath. "You know what this is."

You did.

After he met you in front of the Ravenclaw common room instead of your usual meeting spot, purchased a book you were eyeing at Tomes and Scrolls, opened all the doors for you, and pulled out your chair for you at the Three Broomsticks (and then sat beside you rather than in front of you), you had a strong inkling of what this day was. But Theo never explicitly asked you or said anything that would allude to being interested romantically, and so you continued the charade. You played dumb.

Your brows furrow, and you blink in convincing bewilderment. "Do I?"

Theo releases a small groan, his hands covering his eyes in defeat. "Gods, you're impossible."

"I'm confused."

"I like you!" Theo blurts, bringing his hands down so he can meet your gaze. His eyes burn with frustration and longing. His cheeks are red, and he's bouncing his left leg as if he'd just heard he needed to face three boggarts at once. "I've been trying to tell you this whole time. The sweets, the quills, the necklace, the book. I even took you out on this bloody date. How do you not know already?"

It took everything in your power not to crack as he finally voiced his feelings. As you watch him take bated breaths, you can't help but erupt into a fit of laughter.

"Merlin," you giggle, wiping the tears from the corner of your eye. "It took you long enough, you bloody goof."

Theo flushes, and you can't tell if he's red because he's embarrassed and confused or if it's because he's seconds away from breathing himself into hyperventilation. You don't let him get to that point (being the gracious and not at all cruel person that you are), as you grab Theo by his collar and pull him in for a kiss.

Theo tastes of butterscotch and syrup, and his lips are soft and hesitant until they're not. He comes to, his hand moving to cup your jaw as he kisses you back.

You pull away from him, beaming at his shell-shocked and pleased expression. "I've known. I just wanted to hear you say it."

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Ghost Whisperer || CL16

AN: another one from the archives of forgotten fics.

Summary: gifted with the ability to talk with the dead, you meet a man who wants you to take him to Monaco to check on his godson.

Warnings: mentions of death

Your family holiday had taken a turn when you reached Nice, France, and found the apartment that they had rented was already occupied. They were oblivious to the man who had lived there a decade earlier but your sixth sense had spotted him the moment you walked in the door.

“You’re going to love him,” Jules repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning.

“This isn’t Tinder,” you said to the apparition sitting in the passenger seat of your rental car. “I’m just going to find your friend so you can finally rest.”

“What’s Tinder?”

“Nevermind.”

“And he’s not just my friend,” he corrected. “He’s my godson, he’s family.”

You sighed as you imagined how the conversation would go with a child. It was hard enough trying to explain your gifts to adults who understood what you were saying, they just didn’t believe you. Everyone thought you were just trying to scam them when you said you had a message from a loved one.

“He’s the kindest kid you’ll ever meet. You’ll see.” Jules smiled as you followed his directions and crested over the mountain range to see Monaco in all its summer glory. “Beautiful, right?”

You were awestruck by the sight of the sun on the sea and his smile grew at your loss for words. It was a shame you had to drive when all you wanted to do was sit and watch the city grow before your eyes. Unfortunately it took a huge amount of energy for a ghost to even move a feather so there was no hope of Jules taking over the steering wheel for you.

Once inside the city he directed you to a home that the family had lived in and hopefully still did. The white door had a large brass door knocker in the shape of a lion and it was cold to the touch when you grabbed it.

“Bonjour,” a friendly middle aged woman answered and Jules breathed her name like prayer. “Puis-je vous aider?”

“Do you speak English?”

“Yes, is there something I can help you with?”

You looked to your left and Jules gave you an encouraging smile. “I was hoping to speak to Charles. Is he here?”

You were aware it was a weekday and he was likely at school but it was still disappointing to see Pascale shake her head. “He hasn’t lived here for some time, are you a friend of his?”

She was already growing defensive, crossing her arms over her chest as she waited for your answer. “No, we don’t know each other but a mutual friend asked me to pass a message to him.”

“Aw, we are friends,” Jules chuckled and you had to fight to resist rolling your eyes.

“Perhaps I should call my son,” she murmured as she held a hand up. “Just wait here a moment.”

She closed the door behind her and you waited impatiently as you shifted on your feet. “What happens if she doesn’t give up his address?”

“The city isn’t that big, I’m sure we can find him.” His attention turned to the door and he went to nudge you but his elbow went straight through, causing goosebumps to travel across your skin.

“Stop doing that,” you growled as the door opened. Pascale gave you an odd look as she found you alone waiting, but she didn’t ask who you were talking to as she held a phone out.

“He wants to know who this mutual friend is.”

You took the phone and raised it to your ear. “Hello, is this Charles?”

“Yes, now give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the police and have you trespassed?”

You reeled back at the animosity, but also the depth of his voice. He was not the child you had envisioned. “I have done nothing wrong.”

“I understand you are a fan and I appreciate that, but you cannot just keep showing up at my mother’s house and expect to find me. There is a boundary and this is crossing it.”

You pulled back the phone to look at it in disgust before you turned and took a step away from his mother. “I don’t know who you think you are, hot shot, but I was only doing this because your friend asked me to. For some reason he thinks highly of you, but I can’t say the same.”

The seconds dragged on and if it wasn’t for his soft breathing you would have thought the call disconnected. “Who?” he finally asked.

You took a steadying breath knowing this was almost always the point that you lost their interest. “Jules.”

“Goodbye.”

“Charles!” Your ears rang with Jules’ outburst and the screen pixelated before returning to normal to show the call was still connected. Charles’ breathing turned ragged as he choked on his tongue knowing the voice he had heard. Doubt and other emotions roiled his insides but he couldn’t hang up no matter how much he wanted to.

An address rattled off his heavy tongue and Jules recognised the street name, giving you a nod. “I’ll see you soon,” you said as you handed the phone back to his mother.

“Please don’t hurt him,” she asked as she pocketed the device.

“I just want to pass on a message and go back to my holiday,” you promised, though she frowned at the evasive words that created more questions she held back.

By force of habit, her frown deepened when you nodded your head to the empty space beside you and muttered, “Come on then.”

Jules lingered another moment, his hand reaching for Pascale’s only for her to shiver and wrap her arms around herself. With a sigh, he turned away and heard the door click shut behind him.

“She was like a second mother to me,” he said quietly as he caught up. “The kindest woman I knew.”

“You also said Charles would be great but so far that is not how I am feeling.”

Jules had nothing to say to that, but it had been 10 years since his death. Perhaps a decade had changed Charles while Jules remained the same.

–

The apartment building was as pretty as the rest that you had passed but the afternoon sun left a shadow climbing its walls and you couldn’t help feeling like it was an omen as you buzzed his apartment number. Instead of answering, the front door unlocked and you stepped inside apprehensively. Each step on the tiled floor echoed and you followed the apartment numbers as you climbed the stairs to Charles’.

His door was already opened, a handsome man leaning against the doorway, and his eyes narrowed as they scanned you with each step closer. You wanted to elbow Jules for not telling you his godson was Adonis reincarnated but Jules was in his own state of shock seeing Charles grown into adulthood. The boy he knew was long gone, this was a man.

“My mother said to listen to you, that is the only reason you are here.” He stood up straighter, blocking you from seeing the inside of his home. “Say what you need to then go.”

You looked at Jules but he wasn’t any help as his jaw still hung open. You decided to go with honesty but really you were just taking a shot in the dark, he didn’t seem like the type to believe anything that was going to come out of your mouth. “My AirBnB in Nice came with a ghost named Jules and he wanted me to find you.”

Charles' hands dropped limp at his sides before a sharp laugh erupted and he stepped back into this apartment. He reached for his door, ready to slam it closed when Jules emerged from his stupor and whispered a few words for you to repeat.

“Bring it home, underdog.”

Charles froze at the words and nearly stumbled as he spun around. Anger painted his face and he closed the distance in a few strides as he shoved a shaking finger in your face. “What did you say?”

You swallowed at the animosity in his tone before straightening your spine and looking him in the eye. “The only way you show these guys you’re not a charity case is to prove them wrong and win, kid.”

His nose twitched as he struggled to understand the words he had heard once before. “Who told you to say that?”

You jutted your thumb at Jules. “You know who, the same man that told me.”

An array of emotions flitted across his face before settling on disbelief. “That’s not possible.”

“I wish,” you murmured before looking at Jules, and you felt bad. “Sorry.”

“I wouldn’t want that gift either,” he admitted. “Can you tell him he looks strong? And he finally grew into his big head.”

“Jules says you look good.”

“I said strong.”

“Strong, whatever,” you corrected. “He thinks you look strong. And you had a big head. Are you still racing?”

Charles followed your eyes to the space beside you but no matter how hard he tried to focus he couldn’t see anything. “I must be crazy.”

You snorted a laugh at what Jules said before repeating it. “No, you were crazy when you drove for years without knowing how to use the brakes.”

“I was eight,” Charles defended himself before realising that was not something widely known and something akin to wonder brightened his face. “Jules?”

“Yeah, kid, I’m here.”

Charles stepped aside and waved a hand in, urging you to follow him to the dining room table. He grabbed three bottles of water without thinking and then frowned as he put one back, a look of sadness washing over him.

“Don’t feel sad,” you said as you accepted the water. “Good things came about because of his death.”

Charles scoffed and untwisted the bottle cap with more force than necessary, spilling water over his hands. “Not for me.”

“You’re alive because of him, and that makes him happy,” you said, taking his hand across the table and squeezing it. “Because of Jules they made the halo and that saved your life, and others too. He would take the sacrifice any day.”

“Always,” Jules echoed. He placed his hand on top of yours and it drifted through, sending goosebumps up yours and Charles’ arms.

“Jules,” you growled as you shook your hand out, but Charles stared at his in wonder.

“I felt him,” he whispered in amazement. “Mon Dieu!”

—

The next few hours passed by with an onslaught of questions, mostly ‘how’. How do you do it? How long have you seen them? How did you find out?

Slowly the questions became more personal.

“Do you do this for work?”

“No way, well kind of, maybe…I’m studying history. It does help when the old professor still hangs out in the library. He’s happy to help whenever I have questions.”

“Isn’t that cheating?”

“It’s no different to a tall person playing basketball. Success is just playing to your strengths.”

“Is talking to the dead really a strength?” Jules asked as he crossed his legs and drummed his fingers on his lips, pondering. “Surely you are just missing out on life.”

“I don’t think you’re one to talk, you’re still here when you could be enjoying whatever afterlife awaits.”

“I wish I could hear him,” Charles sighed. “Why hasn’t he moved on?”

You shrugged and looked at Jules for an answer.

“I promised Hervé I would watch over him.”

Charles’ eyes misted and his head bowed as he tried to hide how he wiped the tears away. “I’m an adult now, Jules, you don’t have to stick around for me.”

“I see that now,” he said with a sad smile as he stood up and ruffled Charles' hair. “I love you, kid.”

Charles’ breath shuddered from his lungs as he felt the large hand on his head for a second before it disappeared. “Is he…is he gone?”

You watched Jules step out onto the balcony and warmth flooded the room as he faded into the shimmering light.

“Now he is,” you swallowed the lump in your throat that always came with the final goodbye. Standing up, you looked to the door and wondered if you should quietly leave but when you looked back at Charles, his eyes red and cheeks wet, you knew you couldn’t leave him that way.

Walking around the table, you took a seat next to Charles and took his hand. He broke away from staring silently at the wood grain and knots in the table and sniffled. “Thank you.”

“I would say anytime but…”

You smiled as Charles managed a small chuckle. “I think once is enough, but I wonder…” he looked around the room. “You haven’t seen my father have you?”

You shook your head. “There wasn’t anyone at your mother’s house either. It’s likely if he was at peace then he’s already moved on.”

“Good, that’s good.” He took a deep breath and wiped his eyes, wincing at the dampness on his hands. “Sorry.”

“I’m used to it, you cry as much as you want. There isn’t exactly a right way to feel when it comes to this,” you admitted as you looked out of the balcony to see the marina looking even more beautiful.

“I don’t know how to thank you.” He caught your lingering gaze and cleared his throat. “Maybe I could show you the city?”

“You’re probably in shock. You should rest,” you said with a shake of your head. “But I’m pretty sure I saw Monaco on my mum’s itinerary for next week. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Charles reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. “Or maybe you could call me?”

[sacredsorceress]

Meet Cute with Logan Would Include... || Wolverine Headcanons

pairing: logan howlett (wolverine) x mutant!f!reader summary: you're a new teacher at the school and logan is interested in you from your first meeting a/n: i'm admittedly projecting with the fact that reader teaches history but just a little blurb because logan's been on my mind and i need to get work done <33 lmk if you want me to make this into an actual fic!! warnings: none, all fluff

masterlist | inbox | tip jar (ko-fi)

when you first arrive at the school as a teacher (and late blooming mutant) charles introduces you to logan

logan has a typical scowl on his face and glances at you up and down

so you begin to worry that you've worn the wrong outfit or presented yourself poorly and now an infamous wolverine dig is about to be thrown your way

but instead, he takes a puff of his cigar, and looks back at charles

"you have a rule about only recruiting good-looking teachers or something?"

and what an array of relief (and butterflies) do you get from that

"yes, very funny, logan. however, y/n here has a phd. I've brought her on to teach the students"

"yeah? and what's your "gift"?" (mutation)

he has a coy look on his face

"oh logan, that's a bit personal..." you said with faux seriousness. "buy me a drink first."

for the first time, you saw him smile. a chuckle reverberated in his chest.

"fair enough."

after that interaction charles escorted you out of the room but as you went, logan's eyes were trained on you.

intrigued, he took another puff of his cigar and smiled to himself.

on your first night there, once all the children have gone to sleep and all the adults have gone to their own rooms for the night you hear a knock on your door.

and guess who it is?

you hate to admit it but god, does he look so hot and suave standing in your doorway.

logan's hair is in a typical mess and his flannel has a few more buttons undone than it did this morning,

and although he's rough around the edges and not as necessarily openly friendly as the others, he exudes confidence- especially as he leans against your doorframe.

"you said i owed you a drink."

although he takes you to the diviest dive bar in town, you have such a good time.

after a little bit of awkwardness, the two of you found your footing and you end up talking (flirting) for hours

well, in actuality, you do most of the talking but boy does he like listening to you talk and watching your eyes light up while you laugh at some of your own stories

on the way back to the mansion, he opens the car door for you

"thank you."

"don't mention it" (he's blushing a little)

on the ride back he tries to be as smooth as possible, one arm draped over the passenger seat while the other rests on the steering wheel

he keeps taking quick glances at you as you hum along to the song on the radio and even though you just met he's already thinking about how he could get used to this

he walks you back to your room and as much as he wants to make another move (and you do too) he doesn't want to mess up your relationship before its even started

i mean, you're living in the same place?? what happens if you don't like it?? and you end up hating him?? now his suave demeanor has crumbled under the weight of realising this is actually real and not a game

"I'll.. uh... be down the hall if you need me."

"thanks, logan" you smile softly and he thinks its the first time anyone's done that in over a decade and meant it

when he starts walking down the hall, you call out in a whisper

"oh and logan!" you pause. "sweet dreams."

before he can say anything the door of your bedroom shuts

a stupid, silly grin coats his face so big that he rubs his hand across his cheeks in fear anyone would catch the big bad wolverine becoming a softie for the teacher he's got the hots for

although you've just met, you've got him wrapped around your finger and he can barely believe it

shoving his hands in his pocket, logan shakes his head and laughs on the way to his own bedroom

"fuck."

[laura1633]

DEAD at the idea of Charles approaching Max like "Max!" "Hi Charles" "Hi, ah, you look very pretty, as always" "...thanks? Congratulations on the win! You almost slipped on turn 2--" "you have very pretty chest! like you know, for pups and hips! and waist! like, to bear pups and oh my god whyamIsayingthistoyou"

😂😂😂😂 That is pretty much how it happened!

Charles' first attempts at courting Max were rather embarrassing but he got there in the end!

[desperatelyseekingcannibals]

Telling Hugh Dancy about trans masc Will and more...

As some of you already know by now, I went to Boston Fanexpo this past weekend for another stop on the unofficial Hannibal 2024 Reunion Tour.

I had planned to do autographs on the Friday before the Hannibal panel and had brought some gifts for Hugh which included a copy of Adapt. Evolve. Become: The Genderqueer Fandom of NBC's Hannibal, which I compiled and edited last year. I also got him to sign my own copy (above).

It all moved quite quickly, but I did have the chance to explain that it's a volume by and about trans, non-binary, and genderqueer Fannibals that includes art, fics, essays, and personal pieces. He seemed intrigued and I said I hope he'd have the chance to read it and that the art isn't explicit/sexual but some of the fics are - he laughed and said he appreciated the warning.

It was all quite the whirlwind, especially after coming all the way from the UK, so I was absolutely mortified when I remembered the next morning that I had talked with a few trans Fannibals who had specifically asked me to let him know that he/Will is a trans icon. So I went back up to see him again on the Saturday morning when it wasn't too busy (and get more stuff signed) and this is what happened:

[I wrote notes down right after so this is as close an account I can get without having filmed it!].

Me: I saw you yesterday Hugh: I remember (smiley-friendly) Me: I gave you a book Hugh: I remember (smiley-friendly) Me: well, I forgot to tell you. A few trans Fannibals reached out to me to tell you that Will is a trans icon to them and we all love you for it. Hugh was surprised (in a nice way) and I was pretty much going to walk away then - job done and feeling like time for me to stop bothering Hugh lol. But before I could walk away he sort of held out his hand to stop me and said something along the lines of - I don't mean this in a disrespectful way, don't take it the wrong way... I'm genuinely curious- I get that it can be about identity- but what is the connection to Will and being trans? Luckily - my essay in the book is exactly about how Will can be read as trans, so I sort of gave him a summary of that. I explained that (obviously) both Will and Hannibal can be read as queer, and that - especially as both characters have dominant masculine and feminine traits, it's also easy to read them both as trans or in some way genderqueer. He was nodding and agreeing, so I further explained that with Hannibal, he is fully formed - he's already whatever he is - which Hugh also agreed with. But that Will is still becoming, still transitioning and therefore can be more relatable to trans fans who see that journey in themselves. So although it's not necessarily the same journey - there is enough to it that it resonates with trans people. I said that in the show there is also the added bonus of Will being seen and accepted for who he is, just as trans people wish to be. He was nodding along and agreeing with me and then he thanked me for explaining that. It was pretty quiet previously but I'd been there a few minutes so the queue was building up a little but he was so focused on me - so genuinely intent on hearing what I had to say and learning more. SO I CARRIED ON. (lols) I explained to him that it goes further than the show, that we have found a community in the fandom and that many trans people have a catalyst in their life that sparks their journey - like Will had in his friendship with Hannibal. For us it might be a person, an event, or even a TV show. I explained how the fandom are so supportive of trans people - that we are SEEN. That I for one wouldn't have been able to afford top surgery without the kind donations of Fannibals back when I was not in a good place (mentally or financially). That we all help each other and for some of us that has been life-saving. He did the hand on heart thing and said "wow" and was clearly moved. I said to him that so much of this is in the book, that I completely understand if he doesn't want to read the fanfic, but I really hope that he will at least read each of the personal pieces - that each of the fics and art also have a little write up from their creator about what the show and/or fandom has meant to them and their gender journey - how important this has been in our lives. He repeated a couple of times that he would definitely read it. I thanked him and he held out his hand and gave me the most genuine hand shake I've had in my life.

I want to really stress here how much this was instigated by Hugh. That he really wanted to know more and understand and didn't even look at the slowly growing queue but was instead intently focused on knowing more about the trans Fannibals and about why this show and the characters mean so much to us.

I then went off and spoke with a few Fannibal friends in the queue before getting around the corner to another Fannibal friend and having a bit of an emotional moment/breakdown. I can't even explain how grateful I am that he gave me the opportunity to explain all this to him. And I was especially glad I got to tell that Will is a trans icon because I'd have felt terrible if I'd have not done that after people had asked!! Thank you for trusting me to pass that message on for you!

💖

I know for many of you Adapt. Evolve. Become: The Genderqueer Fandom of NBC's Hannibal might have gone a little under the radar. So here is some more about that >>

It was compiled last year for Trans Hanni Day, edited by Max Turner of (and in conjunction with) A Coup of Owls Press - and published under Max's ACoO imprint.

It features essays, personal pieces, fanart and fanfic by and about trans, non-binary, genderqueer and otherwise non-cis Fannibals.

IT IS FREE TO DOWNLOAD, however we ask that if you do that, please consider donating to one of the linked trans orgs if you can afford to (or a similar organisation/charity of your choice).

It can be purchased on Amazon, however, as the proceeds go to charity, and Amazon only gives royalties, more is earned/given if bought directly via Max's shop.

Dearest trans Fannibals, please know that YOU ARE SEEN!

[fanaticsnail]

"Mine"

Masterlist here

Word count: 7,000+

Synopsis: Upon viewing you and your boss, Doflamingo, get a little too close to one another, Corazon feels the urge to finally state a claim over you. He loves you, and now wants you to understand one thing and one thing only: you belong to him. You are his, completely.

Warnings: Rosinante Corazon X f!reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, NSFW, possessiveness, jealousy, mean dominant Rosinante, drinking alcohol, marking, edging, kissing, sucking, licking, yandere behaviour, pet-names used, Corazon doesn't speak, cum play, bukkake, aftercare, friendly relationship with Doflamingo.

Notes: This gorgeous art was done by @skullfacedlady, who this fic is dedicated to as a gift for her art of my OC Tobiuo and art for my Doflamingo fic 'play stupid games, win stupid prizes'. Let's fuel our obsession with the Donquixote brothers together. Enjoy your dominant Rosinante.

Donquixote Rosinante was not a jealous man. He was cool, calm and collected; level-headed and leading with his head before his heart. There was nothing outside of his control that had him up in arms, fiery, or aggressive about anything.

Silent, a swift word he used to activate his devil-fruit ability at a moment's notice. A moment to create silence in the world around him free of the noise he was plagued by. Silent, was how he found himself now as he watched you laugh alongside his brother at some witless joke whispered down into your ear. 

Other than the mission he was undertaking as a spy for the world government, a bid to satiate his brother's horrid temper and ensure he doesn't make too much ruckus, he was completely silent.

Always silent. 

Although he was yet to make a move romantically towards you, there was an unspoken understanding and appreciation for one another lingering beneath the surface. The touch of a hand, the passing of a shared cigarette between fingers, the smile he thought was reserved for him and him alone. That same smile he was witnessing being gifted to his older brother without a care in the world. 

Doflamingo knew no bounds, there was no limit for him. He was unhinged, ferocious, and brutal. If Rosinante pursued you, Doflamingo could still manage to coax you into his bed with ease should you let him. That thought alone had the younger blonde’s blood boil with a scorched blaze. 

He was a marine, a spy, a confidant to the military while being completely sound in his masquerade as a loyal minion for his older brother. The only time his mask of undying loyalty began to slip was at this very moment: witnessing your hands wander over Doflamingo’s arms, the way your eyes darted between focus on each of his, the curl of your pout as you whispered back up at him with a soft smile. 

The way he grit his teeth, the growing snarl curling his upper lip, the way his eyes were fixed to your hand tapping his brother's shoulder, all of it revealed the way his soul growled to possess you in this moment. You didn't know his true nature as a marine, nor the fact that he was not as mute as you knew him to be. 

To you, he was ‘sweet Corazon, the heart of the Donquixote Pirates you served with, the baby brother to your captain and boss.’ He was sure you didn't see him in a flirtatious light at all, and he was growing more restless at the thought of making you look at him through lust-colored lenses. 

He wanted you so desperately, and he remained consumed with intrusive thoughts of claiming you as his own. Where he would usually gulp back his own desires, casting all aside for the sake of the mission from Marine High Command, he could no longer ignore thinking of the way you'd look in the thralls of pleasure wrapped around his cock. 

His eyes continued to burn holes of flaming desire against your skin, never once leaving your smile and craving more than anything to be the reason for such radiant beauty. He wants to make you laugh, see you smile, hear what you're offering to his older brother and reciprocate the gentle touches. 

And then he wants to make you whimper, whining for him and him alone. He wants to be the source of your pleasure, to have you mewl in bliss while he ruts his painfully hard cock deep within the crevices of your body. He wants to mold you to the shape of him, make you forget any other tryst prior and feel you fall apart and become drunk off what he was giving you. 

Doflamingo continued to offer you crude commentary regarding several mannerisms of the troop he had surrounded himself with. The guests at the soiree had all arrived in their best garb, all enjoying the riches and spoils of the Donquixote pirates at their mansion. 

All he needs is one moment. A single moment alone with you, away from this crowd, and away from the talons of his older brother. Just a single moment, and you could fall apart on his fingers, lips and cock the way he so desperately wants you to. Just one chance was all he needed, he was sure of it. 

While the man who captained you was not interested in you romantically, you were spreading untruths if you said you didn't enjoy his clever analogies and crassness from time to time. He had a mind to invite a few of his regular concubines to the soiree, but opted to take you with him as his date instead. 

You, his counselor and battle strategist. He knew he could come to you for all that ailed him. From desiring to know the method of attack to cause the most damage, to perching on the sofa in your office and talking about his mother. He enjoyed your ear, and you enjoyed listening to his thoughts. 

The one thing you didn't plan on was sneaking glances at his younger brother once he returned to the family. Rosinante was another creature entirely. Where Doflamingo's loud chirping and chattering was harsh and boisterous, his younger brother was silent and reserved. Rosinante intrigued you, and you couldn't deny yourself the knowledge that your wandering eye had stuck to him almost immediately. 

As Doflamingo leaned over to stoop at your ear, you cocked your head up to the side and readied yourself to hear his next lewd remarks. 

“Watch now, you see him?” Doflamingo’s lengthy fingers reached up to your chin and gingerly traced along your jaw to turn your gaze. A young man was being regal and respectful with a blushing young woman, extending his hand toward her and inviting her to dance. 

“I see a well-mannered young man offering a young debutant a dance,” you shrugged with a small smile. Doflamingo's grin widened further, leaning close enough you could almost feel his tongue against your neck alongside his wine-tainted breath on your skin. 

“Well I see a young idiot who got fucked in the ass by their cabin driver moments before entering the ballroom,” he purred, prompting you to laugh a very shocked scoff with your brows raised. 

“Doflamingo,” you gasped at him, gently tapping his chest and smiling up at him with lips partially parted, “You shouldn't be talking about young ladies like that. It's not polite.” He raised his wine glass, cocking his head to the side and offering it out to you to clink his rims with it. 

As your glasses rang at the contact, you raised the liquid to your lips. Doflamingo’s hand snaked over your waist, tugging you closer to him as you took a tasteful amount of wine between your lips. 

“I wasn’t talking about her,” Doflamingo uttered in a nonchalant whisper, prompting you to choke back and burn your throat with the liquid. He chuckled at your fluster, gripping your waist tighter and giving your hip a gentle squeeze. 

“So closed-minded,” he clicked his tongue in a flurry of chastising ticks, gently tapping your nose with his index finger, “Such a shame, little lamb.” You closed your eyes and focussed on breathing through your prior choked inhale as Doflamingo soothed his thumb over your hip bone. 

“You're incorrigible,” you whisper playfully up at him, prompting him to lean in a low stoop and raise the hand containing his wine glass up to your lips. He balances it within his coiled four fingers and tidies your lip with his thumb. 

“You love it,” he whispered huskily down at you, “That's why you accepted my personal invitation to attend by my side, is it not?” You floated your gaze down to the thumb at your lips before shooting him a warning look at his rose-tinted glasses. 

“A little unhinged commentary never hurt anybody,” you shrugged as you gently raise your glass to tap with his once more. He purred his hum down at you, squeezing your hip bone again within his talon-like grasp before he released you from his grip. 

“And what unhinged commentary do you have on the menu this evening?” he asked you, prompting you to hastily gulp back your glass and place it on the tray of the traveling vendor beside you. Pondering in deep thought, Doflamingo's eyes met with his brother’s intense glare directed at you. 

Beneath the shroud of his glasses, he was certain he was safe from notice. Doflamingo assessed his brother's stance and trailed the tension on his shoulders and the possessiveness in his eyes. A cruel smirk drew up on his features just as you turned to face him. 

“I heard a rumor that Diamante and Pica like to hold hands while they take a piss-,” you began, only to halt as Doflamingo's deep purr crooned down at you.

“-Are you fucking my baby brother?” you snapped your head up at him and widened both your eyes and lips in response. He didn't bother moving to face you, instead training his eyes on the way Rosinante’s hardened stance leaned against the wall. 

“Why would you assume such a ridiculous thing, sir?” you asked him, no room for teasing or earlier playfulness in your tone. He finally tore his eyes away from Rosinante and back towards you. 

“Have you the way he's been looking at you?” Doflamingo stooped low, gently raising your chin with the tilt of his index finger. “He looks like he's trying to burn your clothes off with his eyes. Can't say I blame him,” he trails his finger down your neck to your clavicle, teasing at the hem of your formal garb, “You are a gorgeous specimen. Especially in that dress.”

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, Doflamingo tugged at your shoulder strap and hoisted you closer to him, turning you to shield you with his feathered coat. 

“Do you want to fuck my baby brother?” he whispered, his voice low and unwavering. You darted your eyes between his and slowly bobbed your head in a soft nod. 

“Oh, how delicious,” he uttered down at you, slowly walking you backwards and caging you against the wall with his hand resting on the tiles beside your head, “How soon do you want to fuck my baby brother?” You gulped, stifling your rising blush and biting your tongue in shame. 

“Oh,” he taunted you with his voice shuddering in delight, “Oh, you want him now.” He leaned forward, crouching low and pressing his chest against your own. “Oh, little lamb,” he whispered, his face mere inches from yours, “This is an entertaining discovery. I bet you're soaked through those pretty panties right now, aren't you-?” 

“-I don't appreciate being on the receiving end of such crassness, Doflamingo,” you cut him off with your warning tone, managing to stifle your blush and bite back at his taunt. Doflamingo rumbles a dark chuckle through his chest as he gently reaches forward and toys with a loose strand of your hair. 

“I know,” he shrugged dismissively, continuing to toy with your hair and plucking at your shoulder straps, “I'll stop in just a moment.” You knit your brows inquisitively at him, clamping your teeth down in a tight snap. 

“What are you doing, Doflamingo?” you arch your brow high as his unoccupied hand draws down to enclose around your wrist. He elevated your arm up to circle his shoulders and card through the wispy strands of his blonde hair bordering the scruff of his neck.

Doflamingo looked over his glasses down at you, the ruby hue of his knowing eyes piercing your soul with every passing moment. You took a moment to assess him, knowing truly that he had no interest in you aside from close friendship, but perplexed by this new intimate closeness between you.

“Isn’t it obvious, little lamb?” he cooed down at you, his eyes full of mischief and playfulness, “I have a feeling he’s just as possessive as I am,” he nudged your forehead with his chin to rise your head up further. “Let’s see where it takes him, shall we?” 

Doflamingo held you against him for a few moments longer, whispering more shameless commentary while waving away any attendants who offered you food and beverages. You enjoyed his crass words, gently soothing over the back of his neck as you enjoyed the warmth from his almost friendly embrace. He was many things: a tyrant, a villain, a truly evil man with a maniacal laugh and a darkened heart. But most importantly, he was truly your friend. 

After several more minutes of being contained beneath the shroud of Doflamingo’s feathered cloak, he released you from hiding within his wings and ventured over to the dancefloor, stealing away a guest and twirling them on the waxed tiles. You spared a glance over to the wall Rosinante was perched on and found an unfamiliar absence in its wake. 

You felt a wave of disappointment wash over you at his notable disappearance. Instead of wallowing in this newfound pity, you simply chose to shrug it off and head over to the bar to get yourself another drink. As you called your order over the mahogany benchtop, you felt something make contact with the back of your dress and slip from your hem to fall to the middle of your back. 

Turning to your side, you notice first the darkened feathers of a broad coat before the maroon hood of the man beside you. His purple glasses were drawn up the bridge of his nose, his painted lips curled in a grimace as he gestured to the barkeep for two glasses of amber liquid. 

His hand remained fixed on the middle of your back in an act of possessive ownership over your form as he paid his Berry for the drinks. You searched his face, your eyes wandering over eyes avoiding yours, the tips of his ears tinted with a soft rise in aggressive blush, and his lips forged against one another in a tight, thin line. 

He was angry. 

His hand felt heavy and covetous, the grip increasing on the back of your dress while attempting to remain poised and composed. Continuing to monitor his expression from your peripherals, you gently brush the rim of your glass with his in a gesture of gratitude. 

“Thank you, Corazon,” you whisper, gently leaning your head to brush against his bicep in a soft bob of familiarity, “It is for me, isn’t it?” He offered you nothing in return: no smile, no look, no acknowledgement at all. Raising his own glass to his lips and gulping it back in a hefty swig, he sighed out a silent breath at the burning sting of alcohol. Placing the glass on the countertop, he finally turned to you with his eyes darkened and glaring through his eyelashes as you sipped at your drink. 

His hands clapped over your own on the glass, pulling your hand towards his face and turning your glass and placing his lips over the stain left on the rim of your glass from your lip paint. Without tearing his eyes away from yours, he gulped down the rest of your liquid with his lips casting over your own mark: sharing a kiss without your lips ever meeting. 

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his, his gaze hypnotizing you with the tension falling from his shoulders in a possessive rage. Releasing your hand and back, he fished out his cigarette carton and flintlock lighter, his eyes held a daring challenge in them before he turned and made his way towards the heavy doors. Thrusting them open, his intentional and weighty steps feeling foreign in comparison to his usual light footedness. 

Quickly darting your eyes over to the dancefloor, you notice Doflamingo’s gaze catch yours. Shooting you a pouting mock-kiss, he waved you on with his blessing to leave the space unchaperoned by him. You sucked your lip into your mouth and sheepishly trailed after Corazon with your head hanging low to shroud your bashfulness. 

The wind hit your face as the setting sun fled over the coastal line of the Dessrossian sea. The blue of the moonlight rose the shadowy corners of the city and made way for the hum of low lamplight. 

Sitting on the seastone wall, legs crossed at the knees and gazing up into the night sky sat Rosinante inhaling his cigarette. Exhaling the smoke, his chest seemed to deflate in somber yearning. His smoky breath picked up in a swirl on the wind that caressed his skin and blew at his golden hair beneath the red signature hat. His feathered cloak laid on the top of the barrier beside him, the feathers rustling with the breeze. 

Your heart began to flitter with an anxiousness and adrenaline spike you had not yet met its equal. The need to draw him into your arms, take him away from all the frivolity, and press sweetness against his lips with your own had become too much. The way his lips parted with every exhale, the danger and mystery held within his expression propelled your chest to set ablaze. The desire to declare your intentions then and there, claim his lips and body with yours grew exponentially. 

Hissing a final shaky breath through your teeth, you halt your inhibitions and set to declare your infatuation with the younger Donquixote brother. Your feet marched towards him, no longer caring that your desperation for him was exposed beneath your steely expression. As you stood before him, he upturned his head and gazed down his nose at you. 

“Corazon?” your whisper was all the warning you managed to choke out before your hands sought his cheeks and propelled you into his arms. He parted his knees to take you between them, immediately circling his arms around your smaller frame and clasping the back of your dress into heaping fistfuls. 

Lips finally meeting, you tentatively pressed your confession into his skin with a gentle kiss. A shocked squeak left your mouth and was swallowed by his, as his own kiss deviated from your prior sweetness. There was no softness in his kiss, the sweet Corazon you so desperately yearned for had been replaced by another beast entirely. 

Corazon’s lips were hungry, consuming your desire and feasting on the whimpers you called to him with. His hands forced your back to arch against his chest, the tilt of his head and circling of his chin mouthing at you set the pace of the kiss and grew your need for him. A sense of urgency was felt in his kiss, the need to state his claim over you rising with his wild lust. 

Pulling away from your lips, he gazed into your eyes to search for any uncertainty within. Both heavily panting and breathless, you felt the possessiveness Doflamingo had warned you about burn into his aura. His smudged lips were parted, eyes glassy with blown pupils. He released his right hand from your dress and drew it up to his face. 

Tongue feeling heavy in his mouth, he reached up his thumb and claimed a portion of red paint from his cheek on the rounded pad. Immediately thrust his hand forward, he held your left breast in his much larger four fingers while smearing the paint within your cleavage. A choked gasp fled from you as he focussed his attention onto your breast, molding the flesh beneath his palm. 

Huffing through a laugh, he tore his eyes from your breasts and arched his brow up at you with a knowing smirk playing on his face. You knit your brows together in puzzlement before looking down at your chest. Lying central over your heart, your eyes widened at the paint over your exposed flesh. A single word was depicted: no questions, no inhibitions, and no care for any passerby to see the mess he had made on your skin. Corazon’s unwavering gaze never left you as you read over his word.

“Mine.”

A gasp was the only sound he allowed to leave you before he circled his arms over your waist and intentionally fell backwards over the wall, taking you with him as you fell. A hand clapped over your lips to stifle a soft yelp of shock, Corazon fell onto his back with a thud. As soon as he landed, he gave you no time to process the change in position as he replaced his palm with his lips once more. 

In a swift movement, he switched your positions and placed your back on the plush grass bordering the elevated pier between the ocean shore and the Dressrosian castle. Your shocked whimper was claimed by Corazon as his lips collected yours with passion and vigor. There was no hesitancy in his lips, no wavering in his movements, nor stalling his lust for you. 

You made him jealous in the ballroom with his brother, the jealousy unwarranted due to the fact he considered his love to be unrequited. As soon as you placed your lips on his, all of his withheld emotions and prior resignation all but fled him. He was not going to let you go. You were his, and his possessive tendencies revealed themselves to you by each time he drew down his lips to ravish you. 

Trailing his lips and teeth down to your cheek and the tip of your chin, he mouthed at your neck and pressed kisses at your rapidly beating pulse point. Sucking a heart-shaped mark into your skin, your back arched as his hands drew up over your breasts and toyed with your peaked buds. You let out a yelp as he heaped the dress within his balled fists, splitting the material of the dress Doflamingo purchased for you, and rendering it unsalvageable. 

Leaving you no time to protest, his lips found one of your puckered nipples and rolled it with his tongue. His other hand toyed with your unoccupied breast, matching momentum and maneuverability he was pressing into you with his lips. You drew up your hands to clap one over your lips, while the other found the top of Corazon’s head and scrunched around the red material of his hat. 

Removing his lips from your chest while continuing to pinch your nipple, he sought out your consent to continue ravishing you. His eyes seemed almost innocent, his head cocking to the side as his brows arched in the center of his forehead. His lips held the sweet smile you knew and loved him for, a vast contrast to the criminally unashamed touch he was teasing you with. 

“You-... ah-... asking for my consent to continue?” you moaned as he joined his unoccupied hand to squeeze at the flesh his lips were occupied with prior. He shook his head before his lips kissed above his smudged writing, drawing your attention to the mark he made prior.

“You-... nnngh-... You asking for-... fuck, Corazon-,” he placed his knee between your legs, making contact with the damp material of your soaked panties and grinding it up against you. You felt the rumble of his soundless chuckle purr and vibrate against your skin, his lips curling into a smile as he continued to mouth at your skin. 

Searching your rapidly clouding mind for any question you had to form on his wordless behalf, you found revelation just as his fingers began to snake down below your panties and gather your slick atop his considerably larger fingers. Dipping his middle and unity finger in a coaxing grind against your entrance, you yanked his head up to gaze back into your eyes and release your skin from his relentless attack of his urgent kisses. 

“Corazon, you-... you want to claim me as yours, don’t you?” you gasped as his lips halted their descent and his eyes darted back up to meet yours. His hazelnut orbs burn into you with his silent unwavering desire, daring you to deny him through his lengthy eyelashes. At that moment, that split motion and hardened intensity, you knew within your soul that you belonged to him and him alone.

There was no other, no friend nor foe that poured into your mind other than your sweet Corazon. He owned you in every sense of the word. Your heart, your mind, your spirit was all his. Always had been, and will always ever be. Unbreaking in his heavy eye contact, he prowled back up towards you and caged your head between his lowered elbows. Testing you with his eyes, he swayed his head slowly from side to side, hovering his lips above yours as you chased him.

“Say it,” his lips motioned, his breath tingling your skin where his vocal fry never spilled, “Say it.” You whined, pouting and avoiding his eyes while your body bucked up involuntarily to brush against his thigh. 

Your open dress caused the wind to prick up and caress your skin with its icy breeze: a drastic contrast between the hot body trapping you beneath him. Corazon’s eyes never left yours, ablaze with the desire to see you admit defeat and title him as yours, and yours alone. Gazing down his nose at you, his tongue soundlessly clicked a few more times in daring you to admit that key phrase that granted him the pleasure of enjoying you exclusively. 

“Yours,” you managed to gasp out, your back arching as your head drew up to seek his out, “I’m yours, Corazon.” He angled his chin, clicking his tongue while urging you to cry out for him more. Gently dragging his fingers backwards and forwards along your slit, he tentatively bullied his lengthy digits into your body and hooked them up to expertly seek out the underside of your clit and massage it with his thick fingers. 

“Fuck, I’m yours,” you curse at him, his brows arching up as he continued to bully his fingers into you, collecting your slick on his middle and unity fingers while his thumb tapped at your clit. Roughly propelling you closer to ecstasy, he held you hostage against your release: the bob and contraction of your walls squeezing against his digits halting his movements and edging you away from your ignition. 

Your hands sought out his cheeks, roughly bringing his face towards you and wordlessly asking for his kiss. He denied you, holding his head away from your lips and teasing you with his eyes. Desperation clawed at you, forcing you to buck up against his hand to chase your high, only to be championed away from eruption by the skilled ministrations of the blonde above you. You keened for him, trying to gather more of him as he held off his lips and your approaching climax with expert precision.

“What? What do you want me to say?” you desperately gasped for him. He arched his brow, continuing to hold your bliss at ransom until you declared what he was searching for. He leaned down, his bottom lip gently brushing with yours before pulling away and focussing his thumb against your clit. Arching your back, you grabbed at his wrist channeling its ministrations against your hyper-sensitive body to draw more of him against you. 

“Corazon, please,” you whimpered, tears beginning to gather in your eyes, “I only ever want to be yours. Only yours.” You reached your hands up to his stomach, snaking your digits across his abdomen and desperately reaching for the hemline of his pants. As soon as he felt your fingers slip beneath the surface, he pulled his hand away from your dripping pussy and removed your hands immediately from his body. 

Clasping your wrists above your head in a single girthy hand, Corazon used his other to unbutton the front of his pants before returning it to your needy pussy. Each touch was highly sensitive, your entrance contracting around an absent touch, and your voice whined for him to let you finish. 

“Please. Please, Corazon!” you sobbed, arching your back and squirming against his hand pinning yours above your head. “What do you want? What do you want? Please, I'll do anything. Anything you want.” 

Truthfully, Corazon didn't know what he wanted. He enjoyed this new shift in power: watching you helplessly squirming to seek out more of his touch against you, seeing the desperation in your eyes, hearing the hopelessness in your soft cries. You were experiencing all of the emotions he felt moments prior while his heart was held at ransom watching you with his brother. 

He wanted to see you cry, hear you whine, feel you sniffle as you keened for him; helpless to the pleasure he was desperately withholding from you. He was so tired of being kind and sweet to you, always kind and sweet to you. 

No, he wanted to be mean. 

His unwavering gaze darkened as he pierced you with his eyes, the smudge of his former mark on your chest spreading through the dewy desperation of your glistening perspiration. You had never looked so beautiful to him, bare for any passerby to witness if they truly focussed on you. Each part of you was perfect to him, every sucked breath, whimper, and sniffle. 

After spending a moment to take you all in, he had no choice but to see you unravel by his touch. A show just for him, with you as the star performer. 

Thumb pressed against your swollen pearl, he finally focussed his entire attention on coaxing you from that edge by pistoning his hand in and out, adding his index finger to the stretch and massaging your g-spot. Scissoring his fingers, dancing his digits expertly on your most sensitive and desperate nerves, your eyes finally ignite with the white of euphoric lightning. 

“O-Oh, fuck!” you yelped, feeling how tightly wound you were, his hands rapidly beckoned your ecstasy like a musician toying with their specialist instrument. You bit your lip to stifle your whimpers, your vision blurring beneath your glassy orbs and light bursting behind your eyes. 

Corazon's jaw shuddered as he felt your body shake and tremble beneath him. His eyes never left your face as he watched your eyes clamp shut and contort in ecstacy. Back arching, hips rocking to match his pace, your body danced hypnotically as you rode through your high. Your slick gushed in his hands, christening him with your essence as he ceased his relentless momentum. 

“Corazon,” you pant with your chest heaving as your lungs expanded. Removing his lengthy digits from your pussy, he teased at your entrance, collected a sample of your essence and gripped his newly exposed cock. Leaning up onto your elbows, you were enchanted by his hand pistoning his shaft, giving his knob a gentle squeeze while lubricating it with your slick. 

Leaning back to sit on his calves, he beckoned you over with a wiggle of his finger. As you attempted to sit, the exertion from the intensity of your euphoria prevented you from rising. Falling back onto the grass, Corazon clicked his tongue at you before biting back a rising smirk. 

He was absolutely smitten with the fact that just his hands had left you feeling like an oversensitive mess trembling on the ground. His patience was never ending, enjoying the show of how helpless you looked while catching your breath. Instead of chastising you for being unable to move, he shuffled forward, staining his knees with the green tint of the plush grass. 

Bringing himself down to cage your body beneath his, he tilted his head with a playful smile drawing up his lips. A soft whine fled from your lips as you felt him line the tip of his cock against your slit. Dragging the blunt tip over your entrance up to your sensitive clit had your body trembling from the heightened oversensitivity. 

“Corazon,” your whispered cry for him had his eyes widening and pupils dilating to a blown-out eclipse of those brown eyes you had grown to love. The man who caged you beneath him resembled a beast: wild with desire and consumed by the need for satisfaction. 

His sweet smile was now mimicking a grimace, the resemblement to his older brother now understandable by the curl of his lips. Caging your waist within his two hands with ease, he elevated your hips from the ground as he sat on his calves. A squeak of shock fled from your lips, the gentle caress of grass searing against your shoulders and pricking your skin. 

Lining up his tip fully with your slit, his wrists snapped you down as if you weighed nothing, sinking his blushing cockhead within your drooling cunt immediately. Crying out at the stinging stretch, you thrust your hands behind you and anchored yourself against the earth by gripping the grass beside your head. 

At the soft cry, Rosinante stilled. His discipline holding by a thread as his eyes take you in. Seeing that deep furrow on your face as you adjust to his great size has him rocking you gently to test out your resolve. Snapping your eyes up at him, you mirror his unhinged smirk and attempt to peer up at him with your shoulders bearing your weight. 

“If you're going to fuck me, fuck me,” you taunt him, your eyelashes fluttering innocently at him, “I can take it. I'm yours.” Your smirk turns soft, the dewy sweat smearing the lettering written over your chest, and heaving with every inhale of breath. On seeing the red paint etched over your skin, his blood boiled like a drop of water into a crackling pot of hot oil. That sizzling danger igniting fire within his soul had his hips immediately rock forward and bury his entire length into your slick heat. 

Eliciting a strangled cry of shock at the intrusion, your voice caught itself in your larynx as your jaw fell slack. Eyes wide, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, smile ghosting at the corners of your lips, your back bowed as the crown of your head flew back to the ground. His cock pressed against your cervix, pulsating its engorged mass deep within your body. Not a single regret cascaded over your mind at the first rock of your much smaller body over his giant steely cock. 

As if only testing your resolve, his thrusts remained shallow: his cock buried into you and only withdrawing a single inch to press back in. Each gasp from your lips mirrored the flutter of your walls contracting around him, drawing him forward and prompting him to growl deep within the chasms of his chest. 

Nodding to him, you slapped his large hands circling your waist and gestures to his cock with your digits. 

“C'mon, Corazon,” you tease him, angling your head to the side and peering at the corner of your eyes and grinning from ear to ear, “You call this fucking me-! Ahh-!” 

The switch flicked, his motions throwing and jolting your body with each heavy thrust. You were a limp doll in his hands, your much smaller frame a pretty cocksleeve for his looming body towering over you. He pumped his cock into your cunt, using your pussy as a channel for his lust. 

His belt jingled and rustled as his pants slunk to his knees, your dress collecting the stain of green from the grass beneath you. Eyes scrunched tightly shut, Corazon panted heavy breaths with his unsyncopated rhythm. Each in-thrust hit the sensitive convex of your g-spot before brushing past and bullying your cervix. Hit blunt tip hit that marker within your body that had you scream in ecstasy, lips parting and drool falling from the corners of your lips. 

Corazon cracked open his eyes and found himself lost in the vision of you splayed out beneath him. Just from meeting his eyes on your body; clothes ruined, back arching, eyes blown with lust, and breath catching in sweet, choked, little mewls, he felt himself almost topple over that cliff of bliss. Your pussy fluttered around him, coaxing a soundless cry to flee from his lips while his hips rutt into your cunt recklessly. 

The coil within your abdomen swelled before binding together in a woven ring. You could barely form a cohesive word. Your arms, along with the rest of you, remained unresponsive to your mind as you felt your release almost snap within you. 

On queue, Rosinante moved one of his hands so his thumb met your clit while the remaining four circled your hips. The pad of his larger digit gently swirled your clit in messy circles, his desperation to feel you cum against his cock driving him to the brink of reckless insanity. As the larger blonde continued to rutt and buck into you while dragging your smaller frame against his, the crude slaps and sloppy momentum had lightning flash behind your eyes.

“C-Co-! Nghhmn-, Cora-!” your choked whimper was caught on your tongue as your body gave in to the call of your release. Your back bowed as you met your crest, the final crescendo being conducted within the symphony of your bodies joining as one. Your pussy gushed against his cock, a creamy ring forming at his base as you contracted around him. Each pulse and wave of your fluttering walls had Corazon crying soundlessly while biting his cheeks to ground himself from toppling immediately after you. Focussing on you first, he continued holding the pace and fucking you through your bliss. 

Falling away from that edge and floating back to the surface, you felt Corazon withdraw his cock from your oversensitive pussy with a rough 'pop'. Gently falling your body to the ground with his larger left hand, his right immediately circled his cock and began pumping the thick shaft over your body. His eyelids fluttered as his glassy orbs rolled back, his lips soundlessly uttering a single word once his gaze pierced yours. 

“Mine.”

At that, his cock leaked in hot spurts, dousing your stomach and breasts in scorching splashes. You could almost feel his chest vibrating with the sounds he couldn't release verbally, his lips repeating several mouthed curses and iterations of your name. His cock twitched in his palm as he rode his high over your body. 

You were mesmerized in the way he moved. His wrist slightly curled it's way inwards with every instroke, uncoiling on the way out, his pearlescent seed finally coating the red mark he wrote against your skin with his lip paint. He drank in your sight: lips parted, clothes torn, tousled hair, flushed cheeks, panting chest, and covered in ropes of his cum.

Riding through his high, he collapsed over you. His hands moved to cage you beneath him, knees on either side of your hips as his breath tickled your face. His lips found your cheek, moving in that single word repetitively. 

“Mine, mine, mine,” he nipped at your jaw, his tongue darting out and dragging down your neck towards your pulse. You whined at the movement, already feeling oversensitive from the two climaxes in sequence. Rosinante’s chest wiggled with his soundless chuckle, rolling back onto his knees and gawking at you. 

You were perfect. 

Gently reaching up to the beam beside him, he collected his feather coat and laid it beside you. His motions were gentle, intentional, and almost sweet in comparison to his prior roughness. He hooked his arm beneath your legs, the other splayed on your upper back as he moved you onto the dark quills of inky feathers. Without a care to the mess he made of you, he curled in the corners and swaddled you within the larger back and sleeves. 

“Corazon…?” you whispered after him, his eyes finding yours and granting you a soft smile while continuing to gather you into his material nest. “What are you-?” 

He reached forward, touching your lips with his fingers before gesturing up to the manor suite his bedroom door was adjoined. Satisfied with you safely tucked within the feathery quills of his lengthy coat, his eyes widened briefly in shock before his features softened all together. 

Firstly tucking his cock back into his pants, he redid his belt before fixing his shirt. You giggled at his silliness, watching each motion with interest while your body began to ache with the overexertion of taking his mass within your body. You attempted to move, wincing as you felt the sting of his bruising kisses and harsh movement against your body. 

At the soft hiss, Rosinante surged forward, caressing your cheek and checking you over. 

“I'm alright, Corazon,” you whisper with a soft smile, “Just a little achy. I'll be fine. I'm-.” 

Your words halt as something shrouds your eyes, warming your head, and eclipsing you with comfort. Eyes fluttering shut, you welcome the embrace of Corazon’s soft hat crowning your hair, the hearts dangling down on your chest and dancing on your skin. The feeling of his arms hooking beneath your legs once more returned, this time beneath the quills of his feathered cloak. 

Looking up at him as he hoisted you into the air, the sun warmed his skin with a soft pink. The orange and red mixing with the hues of purple over the Dressrosian horizon as he raised to full height. His hazelnut eyes fell over your face, his eyelashes fluttering and orbs darting their focus within your own. 

“Mine.”

He mouthed the words once more before walking with you cradled against himself towards his quarters. The gentle touch soothed your skin, the safety of his arms barricading you in his sweet hold as he ushered you to his room with a soft skip in his step. 

You truly felt it: mind, body, spirit, and soul. You were his. Truly, his. 

You belonged to Donquixote “Corazon” Rosinante. 

The only thoughts that withheld you from submitting completely was the knowing smile Doflamingo shot you from the double-arched doors over Rosinante’s shoulder. That unhinged grin, filled with amusement had you dreading the way you were likely going to give your boss a play by play over what had just occurred between you and his younger brother. 

For now, there was this: a man who was nuzzling against your neck, inhaling your scent, and attacking your cheek with soft kisses. The same man who coated your body in a spray of his cum, staining you and marking you as his. The man who had you climax so hard you saw each star littering the sky with renewed vibrancy. 

The man who held your heart completely. 

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane

[ovaryacted]

─ Variant! Logan Howlett x fem! reader || WC: 1.4k

CW: None. Sort-of fluffy content/slice of life. Alcohol consumption. Kissing at the end. Just relationship dynamics and a growing yearning from grumpy Logan.

You knew I wasn't done talking about Logan right? Well, in this case, we are talking about Variant! Logan aka the Worst Logan from the Deadpool & Wolverine movie. I just got on the doc and thought about him, and this could've been a fic but this is what I came up with. This is also the first time I've written in this kind of format like "headcanons" but as you continue its basically a fic lol. Had to talk about this version of him because I am very fond of it and I loved him, truly. Anyway, hope y'all like it. <3

Variant! Logan who gets introduced to you on Wade’s account and it’s a complete accident. You stumbled into the apartment asking for the bottle of wine he had yanked from you earlier in the week.

Variant! Logan who observes you from afar as you walk into the kitchen, reaching toward one of the higher cabinets to grab the bottle of prosecco you desperately wanted. The moment you turn around to spot a whole new stranger in the room, you pivot to Wade and ask “Who’s the big guy?”

Variant! Logan who gets pressured by Wade to formally introduce himself and shake your hand, fingers mindfully wrapping around yours as he catches your name after saying his. He notices the way you smiled up at him, bright and charming, before turning to give Wade a friendly kiss on the cheek and waltzing back out.

Variant! Logan who quickly begins to get used to your presence, frequently stopping by Wade’s place to drop off dinner, cooked pastries, and alcohol. Your cooking definitely beat the emergency pizza and sandwiches Wade constantly got for him. Not to mention you made a mean tiramisu he grows addicted to craving.

Variant! Logan who often spots you chatting with Wade over anything and everything under the sun. He can’t recall the multiple pop culture references you both shared, or how you managed to make him laugh with your corny jokes, but he’s not complaining.

Variant! Logan who sits on the left side of you when you come by for movie nights or to binge-watch reality TV shows with Wade. You’d be munching away at some popcorn, wearing matching PJs with him while Logan leans into his side of the couch nursing a beer.

Variant! Logan who catches your glances as you hand him the popcorn bowl to grab a handful. He reaches for it, large palm grasping several kernels and munching on them one by one. Your eyes met his for a brief second before returning to the screen, and Logan swears you were grinning.

Variant! Logan who is uneasy speaking to you when Wade isn’t around, not wishing to make you uncomfortable with his grumpy attitude. You don’t mind either way, walking into the apartment to drop off some food and a fresh bottle of Jack Daniels for Logan as a proper welcome present. He didn’t expect a gift, or for you to even be thinking about him at all, but he’s glad you’ve allowed him space in your mind.

Variant! Logan who is more comfortable talking to you in person outside of grunts and nods. Despite babbling like Wade and having an equally foul mouth, you could hold an actual conversation in comparison to the other. Hearing your voice was also a plus.

Variant! Logan who is surprised when you bring him a book you think he might like, something about contemporary American history that felt like something up his alley. It was the first book that got him back into reading, and slowly but surely, he finds himself reading a little every night when Wade isn’t snoring his ears off.

Variant! Logan who gets invited to dinner at your place with Wade tagging along, something to celebrate your job promotion. Wade is really only there for the food and the lemon pound cakes you saved, munching away and telling you about the dickhead he just stabbed not too long ago. And though Logan wants to pretend he’s there for the hard liquor you only reserve for him, deep down he knows he came for you too.

Variant! Logan who enjoys the quiet moments with you, sneaking away to your apartment when you offer and lounging on the couch with another book in his hand. You sit across from him on the armchair, quietly reading on your end. He doesn’t realize he’s staring until you look at him from the corner of your eye, forcing him to flip to the next page.

Variant! Logan who isn’t paying attention to the current film playing on the TV, another late movie night with The Godfather on the screen. Wade had already fallen asleep halfway through the movie, and you dozed off at the 2 hr mark. Your body had ended up leaning against Logan’s, naturally gravitating to his warmth and stability. He could have moved you to let you sit up straight, but instead he moves his arm from resting on the back of the couch to wrap around your shoulder. His breath hitches when you move in closer to him, and he thinks you can hear his heart pounding in his ribs.

Variant! Logan who catches himself peeking at you for longer periods of time. It didn’t matter if your back was facing him, or if you were too busy showing Wade the latest TikTok trend. His eyes always seemed to drift to you, and it would be worse when you caught him looking. He’ll blow it off and huff as if he were irritated, missing how you smiled to yourself from the interaction.

Variant! Logan who has to take shit from Wade teasing him over his obvious not so obvious crush. “C’mon man, just tell her. If you don’t, I will!” That conversation ended with the schling of Logan’s claws piercing into Wade’s leg. He’s pissed off, but Logan knows he’s right.

Variant! Logan who sits with you on the couch during one of Wade’s house parties, nursing a cup of whiskey as you enjoy your homemade cosmo. The two of you have already mingled with the rest of the party-goers, your social battery running dry. So you both decide to be in your own bubble, communicating amongst yourselves and making fun of Wade’s lame party hat.

Variant! Logan who nervously swallows when you laugh at his joke, playfully slapping him on the sternum, shaking your head and nearly dropping your red solo cup. He takes in your expression, commemorating it to his memory as your smile widens and you shift to look at him. Your hand didn’t move from its place on his chest, and he didn’t have any intention of telling you to remove it. So you leave it there for a while longer before drawing away from him. 

Variant! Logan who walks you back home after the party, using it as an excuse to “sober up” and make sure you were alright to ease his own anxieties. You talk along the way, and he ignores the flutters in his stomach from the close proximity. 

Variant! Logan who stands by your front door as you unlock it, asks again if you were going to be alright on your own to which you nod. You thank him, his heart beating at the way you looked at him, like you cared about him, like he mattered. He brushes it off with a shrug and digs his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Variant! Logan who doesn’t stop you when you step closer to him to place a gentle and affectionate kiss on his cheek, the touch making a shiver roll down his spine. You were right there, temptation dangling in front of his face. His eyes ask you a silent question, letting you call the shots when you plant your lips over his, soft and mellow.

Variant! Logan who suppresses the moan that threatens to slip out, feeling the tip of your tongue graze his bottom lip and silently ask for entrance. He shouldn’t, not when the alcohol was still running it’s course. Hesitantly, he pulled away from you, holding your waist with one hand and the other caressing your forearm.

Variant! Logan who is quick to reassure you after your sudden look of disappointment. “Not like this. Maybe, when you don’t taste like vodka and cranberries?” You laugh at that, nodding and rubbing the tip of your nose against his. “Only if you make it up to me with dinner.” He lets you go after that with one last kiss, standing in front of your apartment door for a minute more to catch his breath before heading back outside.

Variant! Logan who walks back to the apartment with a stupid smile on his face, one that he doesn’t register he’s sporting until he stepped through the door to spot Wade cleaning up the mess left behind on the kitchen table. He mentioned something about lipgloss over his lips and the side of his cheek, only getting a grumble and a few curse words in return. Logan ignores him and goes to the bathroom “to take a piss”, spotting the remnants of your lipgloss over his aged features. He grins, making a mental note to look for places to take you out for dinner in the morning.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[strwberri-milk]

Hii could I maybe request the lads boys and sugar daddies 🤭🤭

It's okay if you don't tho I understand it's not something everyone is comfortable with :)

im understanding this as lads AS sugar daddies but also im like. thinking about it and these are gonna be kinda short bc i just dont see anybody really being a sugar daddy so these are. very general. fun fact - xaviers is based off a fic premise i never wrote

Zayne definitely has the capital to be a sugar daddy and he's heard amongst the other doctors that there are some others who have arrangements. He judges them at first, thinking that it's not something he'd really think he's comfortable dealing with. He learns that things don't have to be purely sexual a night or two of him feeling extraordinarily lonely he decides maybe he could just see if he could find someone to spend time with.

Against his better judgement he meets you, someone who invigorates him mentally and enjoys spending his time with you. Your allowance is incredibly generous and you were expecting him to escalate with each nice dinner he takes you to but he's never made a move on you. He's a perfect gentleman and he makes sure you understand that all he wants from you is your time, however much it costs.

The only way Xavier could end up in this situation is by pure accident. He downloads an app, thinking it was just a way to make friends online. He assumes that payments are for some sort of membership, swiping around until he finds your profile and decides to start chatting with you.

The two of you have a lot in common and when you two meet up for the first time you're glad that he looks a lot younger than you anticipated with the blurry profile photo and slightly outdated shorthand in texting. He sort of slips into the role in a similar manner, paying for your dinners and buying you things that remind him of you.

You don't really think he knows what he's become, especially since you don't receive a traditional allowance of money. You don't mind at all thankfully, fully accepting all of his gifts and meals in exchange for his companionship. Honestly, you don't look at him as a sugar daddy because of how casual everything is, cherishing his friendship as you get to know him.

Rafayel totally does it as a whim. He decides to download an app for fun, not really into dating period. He doesn't like the way that people fawn over him, or try to pretend that they don't care he's rich despite insisting meeting at fancy restaurants and looking at him expectantly to foot the bill.

You agree to a date with Rafayel because not only is he famous, he's stupid pretty. You decide that spending time with him would definitely not be an awful thing to do. Your first date is formal and you try to wow him with knowledge of his paintings. He doesn't seem very interested but the two of you seem to get along, thankfully.

Over time the two of you become more friendly, Rafayel letting his walls down more as the two of you become more honest with each other. He's very kind with his money and you're paid very generously. He finally has a sort of friend outside of Thomas and genuinely likes bugging you, you not minding the extra attention he gives you in addition to the money you're paid.

Sylus is constantly fighting off people trying to flirt with him to enter some sort of arrangement. He exudes both wealth and power so of course people are going to be obsessed with him. He usually brushes them all off, not caring, honestly.

He happens to come across you during an evening of drinking. You're trying to flirt with him, not knowing anything about him other than you think he's a very attractive man. He knows that you don't know him with how forward you are, touching and batting your lashes at him flirtatiously.

He ends up deciding to buy you some drinks and the two of you talk well into the night. He gives you his number to talk to him again, telling you that he'd make sure it was worth your time. When you get home that night you find a package addressed to you. A beautiful set of clothes and jewels that fit you perfectly along with an invitation for an event in the week.

This becomes standard for the two of you and you love it. Being on his arm prevents Sylus from getting accosted from people that are desperate for his attention and you're constantly spoiled by his money. You both benefit, growing closer with each other over time.