#and I can’t believe I’ve allowed it to get this far

[joelsgoldrush]

“GUILTY PLEASURE” | 8.6k

logan howlett x fem!reader

“I want this like a cigarette / Can we drag it out and never quit?” Guilty Pleasure by Chappell Roan

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut - mdni 18+ fluff, angst, drinking, dirty talk, slow-burnish, grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader, reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes, age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, finger sucking, soft dom!logan, wade being the funniest asshole, logan calls reader "kiddo/kid"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you. 

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.” 

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend. 

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong 

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair 

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison 

Allison: 

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch 

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss. 

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.” 

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features. 

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules. 

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up. 

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail. 

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment. 

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you. 

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him. 

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. 

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on. 

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?” 

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days. 

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble. 

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[dragonanon]

If you told me a year ago that I would get into makeup and then obsess over it to the point where I legit document in the notes app on my phone, the different color and product combinations I’ve used along with which clothes they look the best with, I would’ve asked if you were high. 🙃😅

[lovebugism]

#20 from the jealousy, jealousy prompt list with steve pls 🫶🏼

steve doesn't realize he's in love with you until he gets a glimpse of you with someone else (fwb to lovers, fluff, 1.2k)

Steve Harrington spent the entire summer thinking he was the only one who thought your Scoops Ahoy uniform was way hotter than should be allowed. 

The thigh-high socks. The short skirt. The pretty ascot tied around your neck. It was a diabolical concoction. And, yeah, sure, the sailor theme was an acquired taste, but Steve has always been a firm believer that you could wear anything and make him fall to his knees. He’d worship you like a goddess in a goddamn parka, he’s that far gone for you.

The only problem is he thought he was the only one.

He loved you so much that everything else just became white noise. There was never any room for anyone else to love you ‘cause he adored you the most. Or he thought so, at least — until a pretty boy with circle glasses and a chiseled jawline talked you up at the front counter. For ten fucking minutes straight.

He watches the stranger cross the threshold of Scoops, with a sundae in his hand and a dumb smile on his stupid face. “Who was the guy?” Steve blurts from the opened partition the second he’s gone. He folds his golden arms over the countertop, biceps threatening to burst from the navy sleeves of his uniform.

“A friend,” you answer casually as you sort change in the register.

His fluffy brows pinch then relax a moment later. He pouts at the vague response because he can’t handle not knowing. “Seems like you two are real close,” he lilts, trying hopelessly to play it cool.

“We are, actually,” you tell him. You drop the remaining quarters into their designated section and flash him a pretty look over your shoulder. “I’ve known him since I was a teenager— sophomore year, I think?”

Steve nods slowly, feigning interest. “Ah. High school sweethearts, then?”

You slide the opened register closed with your hip. It clunks shut behind you as you spin around to face him. You walk the short distance to the back counter, skirt swishing around your thighs as you go. Steve tries hard not to pull away when you lean in towards him, choosing to bask in your unwavering stare and intoxicating perfume instead.

“You should watch what you say, Harrington,” you caution lowly. “I’m gonna start to think you’re jealous.”

He scoffs. “I am not jealous.”

“No?”

“No! No way,” he answers, too quickly to be convincing. “We’re— We said we were gonna do the whole unlabelled thing, so… That’s what we’re doing.”

You nod once. “Great,” you hum with a tightlipped smile, spinning away once more.

The door to the breakroom squeaks open a moment later. Steve lingers in the entryway, shifting on his feet like a nervous child in a sailor’s uniform. Crossing his arms over his chest, he peers at you through his lashes. 

“But it wouldn’t be, like, the worst thing in the world if I said I wanted to be the only one who, you know, looks into your eyes, and… holds your hands, and… hears you laugh…” he wonders lowly, scrunching the bridge of his nose. “Right?”

You don’t realize how big you’re smiling when you look back at him. “No,” you shrug, all cool despite your skipping heart. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

“Good,” Steve grins.

The small of your back digs into the counter’s edge when you turn to face him. You meet his pretty face with a sheepish one. “But it does go against everything we talked about it.”

The boy shrugs. “Well, then, screw it,” he blurts. 

“What?”

“I take it back.”

You laugh before you mean to. The golden sound echoes through the empty store. “That quickly?”

“Hush,” he pouts.

“It took me talking to some guy — who might as well be a stranger to me now, by the way — to change your mind about wanting to date me?” you elaborate with narrowed eyes.

Steve cowers under your stare. “…Kinda. Yeah.”

“So, what?” you scoff. “We’re boyfriend-girlfriend now?”

“If you wanna be.”

You grin up at him while he approaches you, all slow like he’s stalking prey — only you don’t entirely mind being hunted. “Pretty soon, we’ll be playing house if we’re not careful,” you joke, smoothing your palms up his torso.

A crooked grin blossoms on his pink mouth at the thought. “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea, actually,” he mumbles lowly.

“Steve…” you huff.

He laughs and cradles your jaw between softly calloused palms. “What?” he hums as he ducks down to kiss you. Your lips lock in a fleeting kiss — an innocuous spearmint-strawberry-chapstick concoction.

You let him kiss you, but your pout never wavers. “You can’t just say something like that and expect me to move on,” you murmur.

“I like you?” he shrugs. “So what?”

“So what?” you parrot with a laugh. “We’re not kids anymore, you know? Relationships are pretty serious now, Steve.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

You meet his doe-eyed look with a sterner glare. “That’s the problem. That’s why we agreed to keep things lowkey. ‘Cause you can’t be serious about anything.”

“I can’t be serious about some things,” Steve insists with a boyish twist to his scruffy features. You arch your brow to egg him on. “Well, you, for starters— I haven’t even looked at anyone since I started seeing you, so… That’s gotta be a start, right?”

Your brows scrunch softly together. You don’t mean to look as shocked as you do, but you can’t help it. “You haven’t?”

“No,” he answers, chiseled features swirled like he’s tasted something sour. The thought never even crossed his mind despite distinctly keeping your relationship (or lack thereof, maybe) completely casual. “Have you?”

“No! I just… I thought that maybe you were, you know, keeping your options open or whatever.”

“So that means you’re not canoodling with Mister Jawline, right?” he jokes with a hopeful glint in his honeyed gaze.

You roll your eyes but decide to humor him anyway. “No, Steve,” you deadpan. 

He grins, prettier than should be allowed. “Good.”

You squint up at him. “Which means you’re not canoodling with Miss Redhead-Nice-Boobs, who comes in every week just to talk to you. Right?”

Steve’s brows furrow. His dark eyes flit between both of yours as he tries to figure out who exactly you’re referring to. “Who?” he wonders with a cartoonish lilt to his voice.

You’re pout deepens ‘cause you don’t know what he’s playing at. Her name’s Cherry — which you think is pretty easy to remember, considering her fiery auburn curls and ruby red lipstick. She’s tall and lean and effortlessly beautiful. Too pretty to be jealous of. You can’t help but admire her.

So Steve’s confusion is equally dumbfounding.

“You do like me, don’t you?” you murmur with a suspicious squint.

He laughs. “Does that surprise you?”

“A little bit. Yeah.”

His nose scrunches. “Still wanna be boyfriend-girlfriend with me, though?”

You purse your lips to the side and pretend to ponder the question “Sure,” you shrug after a few moments, rising to the tips of your toes to smack a quick kiss to his mouth. 

You greet a group of customers a second later, while Steve restocks the tubs of ice cream. Totally casual. Not at all lovesick.

Well… maybe a little.

[kalinysu]

💮 Hello, I was wondering if you could do a muzan × reader where they're married, so he's the demon king and she's the queen, and they have been together way before he was a demon, so he turned her. She's also pregnant, and he won't allow her to go on missions anymore. I would like to know if he would keep her by his side or would he lock her in her room. She can also walk in the sun. Please take your time. 💮

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏. — Muzan x F!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Gentle Muzan with slightly harsh words, stubborn reader.

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Very cute request! I’ve never written for Muzan and a pregnant wife, so it should be fun. Might rewrite, this was a little lazy 😭

“Darling, please lay down.” Muzan said with a sigh. You two had been going back and forth all night, and you were keeping him quite busy, busy enough to the point he had to ignore his other tasks and focus on you in the moment. “Stop!! Don’t you have any missions for me to do?— I mean, I can’t just lay here for 8 months straight.” You said, trying to sit up and get out of bed.

Muzan kept you away from the other demons, well more specifically Douma. He was far too handsy with you even if you were of a higher status and deserved just as much respect as Muzan. He preferred keeping you locked inside of his room when he couldn’t have you near him, such as when he worked on experiments or had meetings with the ranks. You were too distracting and required every of his attention, which he was willing to give when you two were alone and he wasn’t busy.

“Woman. Lay down, now.” Muzan said, furrowing his brow a bit. His hands were placed on your shoulders, occasionally switching to your waist, trying to be as gentle as possible with you even if his words weren’t. He let out a exhausted sigh, getting into bed with you. He then wrapped his arms around you, holding you just firm enough so you couldn’t get up from the bed. “Missions—“ You said, still trying to free yourself from his grasps. “Darling, I’ve made it clear that i’m not letting you go on any missions while your pregnant, go to sleep.” He said. He was right, besides, you hadn’t slept in days, but you wanted to do something, anything but be in this room.

“Let go—stop it! Stop!”

Muzan eventually had to lock you up inside of your room, not allowing you out at all. He had practically began to neglect you after the first few days of staying by your side. He did bring you human flesh to eat sometimes, and spend short amounts of time with you before going back to his work. If you got into too much trouble while on your own, he’d have Kokushibo or Akaza watch you. And they watched you like a hawk. They treated you as if you were a human, and any minor injury would be treated majorly.

Muzan wanted to be near you, but he just had too much to do. Today though,Muzan had come to check on you while you were asleep. But when you heard the door open, you forced yourself awake. You felt Muzan pull the blankets over your body completely, before placing a hand on your shoulder. “Muzan..?” You mumbled, turning over to look up at him. He gave you a small smile, before getting into bed beside you. “Upper 1 told me you were crying today. What’s wrong?” He asked, and you could barely believe it. You were about to slap him, but he had caught your wrist. He was just about to lecture and scold you, but you had burst out into tears before he could.

He didn’t know that this was also just your hormones affecting your mood, and thought you were just sad. “Darling, come here.” He said, sitting the both of you up and pulling you closer, allowing you to cry into his chest. “Y-you barely ever stay with me anymore!!” You sobbed, gripping his shirt. “My love, you know I have things to do..” He said, gently stroking your head. He was being honest, but there was another reason. He wasn’t sure how to take care of someone he actually cared for who was pregnant, so he resorted to locking you away to keep you safe and away from others.

“My apologies. I’ll take you with me from now on, how’s that sound, hm?” He asked with a smile when you finally calmed down a bit, tilting your head up to look at him. You sniffled, before nodding, wiping away your tears.

[im-subtextsexual]

I’m glad so many people picked up on the vibes between Eloise and Cressida. Not a ship I ever considered before, but the tension was palpable. I’ve been a Queer Eloise truther since reading the books. Her portrayal on the show only made it more obvious in my mind. I didn’t think the writers would ever go there, but the set up is just so explicit, now I’m not sure. I don’t think they’d actually make Eloise / Cressida canon, but I do think they’re testing the waters for wlw Eloise. And it makes perfect sense. 

First off, the character is queer (I’ll hold off from labeling her a lesbian outright, because there’s definitely room for other identities like bi, demi, ace…. etc.) Even in the books. I legitimately think Julia Quinn accidentally wrote a sapphic character and then didn’t know what to do with her. So what we got is “To Sir Phillip, With Love”, widely considered to be one of the worst in the series. Believe me, if there’s any story that could stand to deviate from the books, it’s this one. And the story could so easily be adapted to a wlw romance, it would be a wasted opportunity not to do it. Like… the story would be better if they tweaked it to fit a queer canon. AND it could be done in a historically accurate way to shut up the naysayers that “a lesbian storyline wouldn’t fit in this universe.” How? Allow me to explain.

*SPOILERS FOR BRIDGERTON SERIES BOOK 5*

In the book, Eloise strikes up a correspondence with Sir Phillip Crane. Yes, THAT Phillip, the one currently married to Marina from season 1&2. Marina kills herself because she can’t stand to be married to Phillip and deal with their children in the wake of her lover / his brother’s death. His initial interest in Eloise is to find a mother for his children. She is intrigued by his intelligence and decides she doesn't want to be alone, but isn’t necessarily eager to marry or have a family. Due to romance novel shenanigans, she runs away to Phillip's house and is forced to marry him. Even as they grow to kind of love each other, it's far from some grand romance. It’s the very definition of “settling”. The most interesting part is the narrative structure of their story being told through letters in the beginning. We could keep all that, but make it gay. 

*Imagine*

Eloise meets some dapper gentlemen new to the marriage mart. We’ll call him Emmett. Very little is known about Emmett and his family as they keep largely to themselves at their estate in the countryside. The only thing that’s widely known is the family suffered a tragic accident where the man of the house and his oldest daughter died, leaving his son (the other twin) to take on the responsibility of rank and title very early. Emmet is making a rare appearance in London to find a wife (there are rumors of stipulations in his inheritance requiring a match). ALL the debutantes are fawning over him because he’s mysterious and extraordinarily good-looking. One might even say “pretty”… To everyone’s great surprise the season’s most eligible bachelor takes a special interest in Eloise after overhearing her talking about her disdain for the social convention of marriage, and how she would only consider it if it were an in-name-only, marriage of convenience. Emmett strikes up a conversation with Eloise and she is taken by his humor, wit and shockingly deep empathy for the limitations society puts on women. They continue to gravitate to each other through the first few events of the season, but Emmett has to return home suddenly because of a family emergency. Eloise is shocked to find herself disappointed, but they promise to write. Cue the correspondence romance.

Eloise grows more and more smitten with Emmett every letter she receives, but still has the same reservations about marriage especially when she thinks of the intimacy a relationship like that would require. When Emmett hints that he may want more than friendship, Eloise's feelings get the better of her and she goes to visit Emmett unannounced. He is shocked to see her, but let's her stay and she gets to know his mother and two younger sisters. The Bridgertons go looking for Eloise, worried something has happened to her. When she is found to have been staying for days in an unwed man's home without a chaperone, the potential scandal causes Anthony to force Eloise and Emmett to marry. Surprisingly, Emmett actually agrees so Eloise does too (all of this is essentially what happens in the book).

Eloise confesses to Emmett that she's nervous/resistant to physical intimacy, but he assures her they never have to be together that way. In fact, he would prefer the marriage of convenience they always talked about. Eloise is relieved until their kiss at the wedding sparks an attraction she wasn't expecting. They spend the first month or so of their marriage sleeping in separate rooms, enjoying each other's company, and letting the tension build. One night, Eloise's control and curiosity finally snaps and she goes to Emmett's room to initiate a physical relationship. She catches Emmett off guard in his sleeping clothes which makes it VERY clear... Emmett is a woman (cliffhanger of episode 4, and where we deviate from book canon to make it queer).

After the initial shock, Eloise allows her new "husband" to explain. Emmett is really Emma, the daughter believed to have died in a carriage accident with her father so many years ago. It was her twin brother that actually died, but since there were no other male heirs, Emma's family fortune would have gone to a distant uncle who is cruel and abusive. To save them of that fate, Emma's mother conspired with the local coroner to make it look like Emma was the one who died, so "Emmett" could inherit everything. Emma has been living as Emmett ever since, successfully keeping up the deception by keeping a low profile in society. The only reason Emma came to London that year is because her uncle died, and a cousin had come around asking questions hoping to inherit. She thought getting married would help secure her identity as Emmett and the cousin would back off. At first Eloise is outraged. She feels betrayed by Emma's duplicity, and is terrified if any of this ever got out everyone they know would be ruined forever. She agrees to keep the secret to save her family's reputation, but shuns Emma. Eventually, Emma (already aware that she's in love with Eloise) attempts to make amends and Eloise is charmed enough that she relaxes back into the relationship they had before the Big Reveal. The only problem is the attraction is still there, even more so now that Eloise knows the truth. Things come to a head, and they go at it Bridgerton style.

Emma and Eloise live happily in a true marriage for a bit until Cressida and Penelope come for a visit. They both find out about Emma, but are sworn to secrecy. Pen easily swears her loyalty (having already suspected Eloise), but Cressida is sickened. In a rage, she threatens to out them all, and storms back to London. Eloise follows her and begs Cressida to keep the secret, and tries to explain why the "wrong" feelings she has for Emma are very right for her. To Eloise's surprise, Cressida isn't upset about what she's doing with Emma, but who she's doing it with. She didn't know what they're doing was an option; that she was an option. Cressida confesses that if she'd known a life with Eloise was a choice she could make, it's the life she would have chosen. Eloise lets Cressida down easy by explaining they didn't have that choice. Everyone in the ton knows who they are. The only reason her relationship with Emma works is because of the ruse that allows Emma to be Emmett. Cressida takes this in stride, and vows to keep the secret, but her mother overhears and causes the biggest scandal London Society has ever seen.

The Bridgertons and a few friends (like Lady Danbury) are as understanding as possible, but the rest of the ton is rabid. Things escalate to the point where Emma and Eloise have to appear before the Queen. Emma pleads her case about pretending to save her family, and insists that Eloise didn't know until well after they were married so she's innocent. Eloise can't help herself and gets on her soapbox about the way society limits women, and that the Queen should understand their plight. Shockingly, she does. She annuls their "marriage" (because they didn't consummate anything... RIGHT?!) but she agrees to let Emma control her family's estate until one of her sisters produces a male heir. After that, she and Eloise will receive a pension from the Crown so they can live independently (the real Queen Charlotte actually did this for suspected historical sapphic couple The Ladies of Llangollen). Since Emma and Eloise would never be able to find husbands now, they decide that they'll just be two spinsters growing old together in their house in the countryside. You know... just two gal pals. No one believes that shit, but they rarely interact with the ton, so they're largely left alone to live as they please.

Happy ending, close to canon, historically accurate, and super gay. It's not that hard. You're welcome.

[usedpidemo]

More than you know (Nmixx Haewon)

“Miss Haewon, please see me after class hours later. I would like to talk to you.”

There it is. A rather predictable bookend to another dull lecture. She saw it coming from the moment she walked into the classroom. 

She absolutely loathes hearing it. 

Despite the comically indignant scowl she shoots you on the way out—and the mocking jeers from her friends that elicit embarrassment—by the time the final bell rings, she couldn’t wait to see you later on.

You’re excited, too—but for all the wrong reasons. 

She’s the only thing keeping your passion for teaching alive.

—————

For the record, Haewon is not a bad student, not in the slightest. If anything, she’s par for the course. She’s not gonna be some summa cum laude, but she isn’t a sorry case, either. And that’s been the pattern with your students for years. They only care enough just to get by. Haewon is the most clear-cut example you can refer to.

Based on the rather intriguing stares she shoots at you, you’d be tricked into believing she’s actually interested enough in improving her future performance in class. Peeking through the laptop, catching glimpses of everyone’s grades. Her name is highlighted on the document, and the scores consist primarily of mid-eighties with some low-nineties. Clearly she’s nowhere close to a flunk or a future dropout. 

Better than the high seventies and low eighties that the rest of your class averages.

“Sir, how many times do we need to go over this. I’m doing well for myself,” she remarks, giving you a look that says I told you so. The evidence is right in front of you, written in bold. “C’mon sir. Just let me go early today.”

And that’s when you make your first of many mistakes—feeding her the attention she craves. Where’s this energy when it comes to your lectures, you wonder?

Before you even entertain the thought, the scene has already gone completely sideways. Here’s a student with zero regard for following rules, and you’ve experienced your fair share of troublemakers. She’s sitting on the desk, pale skin in plain view from the off shoulder cropped sweatshirt that barely qualifies for the dress code. You’re looking—and she’s keenly noticing. 

“Maybe another time, sir?” Haewon reads your mind like an open book. She’s purposely dressing improperly for two reasons: to piss off the higher-ups who hate her guts, and to make it easier for you to rip through her clothes. “I’ve got dance practice with the theater girls and I’m running late.”

“Well for one, you can drop the honorifics,” you reply, plainly, in a particularly weak effort to change the conversation. The attention you give her is short-lived; your focus returns to the unanswered emails and grades you need to fill. “Class hours are done for the day.”

It’s evidently not the response she wanted, because her arms are crossed and she’s pouting. You have to admit, she looks cute acting like that, revealing clothes be damned.

“Sir.” Haewon drawls out into a groan, bothered by the monotony of waiting when she has places to be. She won’t go as far as to knock your laptop down, but she’s considering it as a last resort. “You’re being a bitch right now.”

Anyone else in her position would get it—a verbal lashing that would get your teaching license rescinded and take you to court, but Haewon is the epitome of getting away with murder. You have no idea how she does it—how she manages to escape mostly unscathed from punishment. Even now while you drum on the keyboard, because you’re allowing her to call you a bitch without consequence. 

Maybe because you like her more than you would openly admit.

She sighs. It’s a defeatist tone. A few moments later, you close your laptop and she perks up.

“Take a seat. I do want to talk to you about something important,” you tell her, knowing one hundred percent certain she’s not getting off your desk. 

Haewon can’t help herself to a snarky comment. “Damn. Finally.”

By every conceivable account, this should be awkward, if not outright wrong. She’s still an undergrad, you tell yourself, staring into her sharp, alluring eyes. For as rebellious and as unruly as Haewon acts, she still listens to you. Hell, you’re the only professor she bothers to attend classes regularly for. She’d tell you she cares in her own twisted way. Look at how she dresses, for one. Your thoughts consist of mainly her in some cumbersome position, her lips letting out these desperate, heavy gasps. Your hands squeezing her taut breasts; the way her shirt accentuates the curves of her chest drives your imagination wild. You can spend all day planning how you intend to fuck her—

“Sir, you’re staring again.” A snap back to the present, where she’s grinning and leaning close to your face. So pretty. “I get it—I’m hot, but we’re on borrowed time, sir.”

“Right. I honestly forgot what I was gonna tell you,” you mindlessly drawl, searching through your desk for something. Something to temporarily distract you from the inevitability of the end. The rest of your paperwork lies unattended in the faculty room, you remember, but you’re not gonna step foot inside that place—not when the other professors are still around. Time is money. “But it’s definitely not your grades, that’s for certain.”

“What’s it about, then?” Her eyes continue to follow your every move. 

You place a folded sheet of paper between you. She grabs it and reads through the brief content. The response is concerning. 

“You’re leaving?” Haewon turns to you, stunned and gobsmacked. A rare expression coming from someone who’s usually indifferent toward everything and everyone.

Genuinely, you have no idea how to explain yourself. You had this all planned out since the beginning of the year; these two semesters will be your last, you were completely certain. You could have told anyone in the faculty. They’re decent people—as decent as they can be during the few times you actually interact with them—but they were merely coworkers and nothing more. You could have told your wife, who just so happens to be a fellow professor and colleague, but she’s one of the reasons why you’re leaving in the first place. 

Word spreads like wildfire around campus, so you know to be careful, but this is straight recklessness. You call it mutual trust.

“Been thinking about it for a while,” you say, rather quietly, trying your hardest not to look her way. 

“Let me guess,” she says, breaking the pretense of sympathy and concern for her usual caustic tone. “No one cares about your shitty class?”

You’re not remotely bothered by her comment, even if she’s speaking the truth. Though she could have used a nicer word besides shitty. “Part of it, yeah.”

“I seriously don’t understand why there’s gotta be a religious unit for a business degree,” she adds, fascinated by her own question. Even more so than listening to your lectures. “I don’t get it.”

“I don’t get it either.” Truthfully, you seriously question why you’re even teaching here to begin with.

You’re employed by one of the top universities in the country; every parent would sacrifice everything just for their children to study here. It pays well by teaching standards, but the bar is in hell. Despite the prestige, the overall experience is no different than your time in public high school. Most of the students who do attend come from rich backgrounds; people who use the place as a dick measuring contest to see who is the richer person. These entitled scholars who are always on their phone—one of their many phones—and cheat to get ahead.

It happens so often on the regular that you eventually stopped caring.

“Hmm,” Haewon thinks to herself, running through every piece of information she has to weaponize against you. She knows you better than anyone, mainly because you share personal life details like they’re the daily newspaper. Not to mention the very reason she comes to the classroom in the afternoons: you.

Then she comes to a rather off the wall conclusion. “It’s Miss Myoui, isn’t it?”

You squint your eyes. Haewon glints up. A small opening. 

After a brief pause, she piles on, smirking. “Did I touch a nerve? Poor you,” she says, shooting you a mocking pout that you mostly ignore. “I guess you haven’t had some good pussy in a while. I mean, there’s no reason for me to be here other than the fact that Miss Myoui isn’t letting you clap her ass. Maybe the rumors are true then—”

Before she continues to spill more information that anyone shouldn’t be allowed to know, you fire back with a sharp glare. She cheekily grins. By ignoring the flashing red light right in front of you, you’re purposefully walking towards your own downfall.  It’s a trap; you know this. You know Haewon more than any other student. All her little tricks, all her crafty schemes. 

God, you can already see how this is gonna end.

“So I’m right?” Haewon tilts her head, leaning slightly forward. Her smug expression, word choice, and mocking tone tests your patience—including your blood levels—and you’re failing by the minute. “Trouble at home?”

Your response? Nothing. Going word for word with her ultimately results in a losing effort; previous conversations with her leave you more tongue tied and in a rut by the end. Haewon is so natural at getting under people’s skin. It’s what she gets off on—wrapping professors and superiors around her finger with her mouth. And more often than not, she’s charismatic and charming enough that it’s entertaining, but no one wants to openly admit it except you.

It’s how she’s able to read you like an open book. Let personal information slip so seamlessly. The numerous discussions regarding her underperformance in class lead into intimate sessions where you and Haewon become more acquainted with each other. A little too comfortable at times, but you can see where and why she acts the way she does. And you had come to the conclusion that you can’t fix her. Many have tried—and failed. She does whatever she wants, and she’ll end up getting away with it.

You slide your laptop aside, ready to dance with the devil, going against everything you swore against. “Mmm—not quite, but you’re halfway there.”

Haewon smiles and her eyes flutter. Not in a patronizing, condescending way, but the sweet kind. Genuine. The soft side she’ll only let you see. “Miss Myoui not letting you clap, sir?”

“She does,” you say, dour. And I already told you class hours are done. Please don’t call me sir.”

“Right. Sir.” Haewon’s playful tone trails off with that loathsome word. She can’t help but smirk; it’s second nature to her. She’ll claim that you fell for that bait, but that was deliberate, you’ll say—even if she refuses to believe you.  

After a brief impasse, “So—sir,” she follows, using her eyebrows and cadence to tease, her hands on the edge of her pants, teasing some underwear, “You need to fuck me again? Now? Is Miss Myoui not letting you have some lately?”

Turning your gaze away and to the desk, “About Mina,” you reply, drumming your fingers on the table, deep in thought, “I’m planning to divorce her soon.”

“Huh?” Her eyes shoot wide, her expression rather surprised at the sudden revelation. You’d think by how she teases you about your wife, she’d have a much more subdued reaction. Considering she knows facets of your rather strange relationship with Mina. “Well, I would tell you’d be fumbling big time, but you should know—”

“She’s cheating on me. I know.” 

Now she’s genuinely shocked, completely caught unaware. She’d assume you to be particularly naive and clueless about campus rumblings, especially since she’d never see you outside of the classroom and in the faculty room. “Well damn. I honestly thought you didn’t know.”

“Can’t say it would be the first time I’ve heard about it,” you say, turning to face her again, cold and gloomy. Pointing your finger at her, “And before you say anything, no, I didn’t catch her getting eaten out in the faculty room.” 

You say that with the utmost sincerity—and sarcasm.

Haewon hesitates, before answering, rather  “I figured.” She understands that your poor eyes have seen some things you shouldn’t be seeing.

Truthfully, you’re amazed she hasn’t brought up the subject a lot earlier. Since the end of the previous academic year, you’ve noticed Mina’s sudden changes in behavior. She’s sending more text messages telling you she’ll arrive home later than usual, the frequent faculty outings she chooses to attend, the cancellation of plans scheduled months in advance—the biggest of which, a dinner date at a particularly expensive five-star restaurant on the other side of town that has a notorious 18 month waitlist that you miraculously booked for your anniversary. And that was five months ago.

People change, but Mina is an entirely different person to you now. You can hardly recognize her.

“I guess I should say I’m sorry for what happened,” Haewon says, pretty modest and empathetic in tone, but even during serious moments, she can’t help but remark, “But you were kind of loser material for a woman like her.”

You can only stare back, annoyed. She chuckles, heartily. Seeing your animated, cartoonish expressions only serves to amuse her even further and fuel her addiction of teasing you. 

“Ah, I fucking love you, sir. You’re my favorite professor for this reason.” In an instant, the somber facade falls apart and she’s back to being her usual coy self.

“Among other things?” you question.

“Such as?” Haewon looks confused. It’s a bluff; you’re calling it now. “Such as what, sir?”

Placing a hand on her knee, you’re creating friction so intense that her mouth goes agape and her breaths grow heavier. “Such as the fact that no one eats you out better than I do,” you reply, inflection transitioning from formal to low.

“Oh?” She doesn’t believe what’s happening to you. “Sir,” her cadence dances in such a melodic and sultry way it’s gonna ruin you faster than anything she’s done so far. “You have no evidence to prove—”

Suddenly, Haewon goes tongue tied, unable to finish her sentence. That’s a first. And you didn’t need to lift a finger or use your voice. Your other hand finds solace around her toned waist, exploring her tummy, and it’s thankfully not restricted by any layer of clothing. So much pristine skin to claim as yours, you begin to lose your restraint—and there isn’t much left to begin with.

“I can take you to the faculty room and show you,” you mumble against her belly, the cold breath tickling her flesh that she trembles. Haewon’s senses float off, her vision growing dark as her hands impulsively latch onto your shoulders. In return, you peck her navel, her abs, until you reach her abdomen, a hair’s breadth away from her chest. Between kisses, you continue to feed into her want, “Or I can give you an example right now.”

“Please,” Haewon finds enough clarity to cup your face up and meet her in a lengthy passionate liplock. This is what she wanted from the start. “Indulge me, sir.”

The only thing keeping you two apart is the laptop dangling on the opposite side of the table, almost pushed aside while you were making out. You quickly place it on a random desk before closing the two classroom door curtains.

When you return to Haewon, she’s sitting atop your desk, playfully swinging her legs, smiling modestly. It’s only now that you recognize how pretty she looks. But behind that meek appearance is a demon, a temptress that only sees you as a conduit for pleasure. In her eyes, the only purpose you have to give is sex, and nothing more. 

So push your chair forward when you sit down. Haewon’s legs are already spread wide, but the pants remain on them. She doesn’t like to do it herself. 

“Won’t give me a cheating discount?” you say, looking up at her coy grin, placing your hands around the hem of her trousers.

“Technically—” she trails off, kissing you, “You’re cheating on her with me, sir.” Followed by another. Each one deeper, more intimate than the last. “Don’t act all innocent now, especially when we’ve been doing this for months.”

Then, Haewon consumes you—as in, devours you. Grabs you and makes out with you with a passion you wish she’d present during class hours. You’d be content to remain in this position for the rest of the day, even if the clothes never come off; he’s so passionate and fervent that it’s intoxicating. But it’s all planned. Elaborate. You’re familiar with her more than you ever want to be: how she loves to unbutton your shirt while kissing you, how she mumbles and hums softly against your mouth, how she whispers desires that end up becoming realized after the foreplay. In reality, she’s the one dictating the pace, the one calling all the shots, and you’re merely an instrument she uses to indulge herself.

And she wants it: everywhere, in every position—something you find too much to handle, and she’s already quite the handful. But it’s merely a delay of the inevitable; you’re going to fuck Haewon, you’re gonna pour all your cum inside her, and you can figure out the rest the morning after.

More often than not, your shirt ends up unbuttoned, but not completely undone. One of two layers keeping your impulsive desires in check. As you work Haewon’s pants down her legs, most of your lesser instincts are shown in full display. It takes almost tearing your own fingers off your very hands not to rip through her panties. Meanwhile, she’s lounging on the desk, enjoying the sight of you reverting back to something primal. 

The way you fondle her creamy thighs, never finding their beginning and end, is like beholding a sculpture crafted by the gods. They’re meant to be worshiped, to be handled reverently.

And Haewon guides you through the process, commanding you like she has authority over you. Titles do not matter—they never have. “Keep going,” she says, as you leave delicate kiss marks down her thighs, slowly burying yourself into the inviting presence of her pussy. Peeking through the near-nonexistent layer of fabric, she shifts the lift of her legs, perching on your shoulders as she forces you into her suffocating warmth. 

“Show me,” she gasps, brushing your hair with her hand, and that’s what sets the rest into motion.

Her legs clutch you into a breathless hold. God, she’s killing you slowly, and you don’t mind it one bit. At this point, you have nothing to lose. You might as well treat this as your last supper, your final meal before you have to say goodbye. She can strangle you with her thighs while you drag your tongue up and down her folds, suck on her clit, take in all her nectar—it doesn’t change the fact that Haewon is gonna fucking end you. 

You might as well repay the favor.

And despite throwing caution to the wind, Haewon appears unprepared. Dazed and confused by the overwhelming sensation burning through her nerves, she trembles—and moans. She couldn’t be any less subtle if she tried; hearing her hit notes you never thought she’s capable of hitting only serves to be a minor distraction from her pulsating heat. You’re relentless, slowly picking away at her senses, at her sensitive cunt, knowing that no one can eat her out as well as you do.

“S-sir.” Haewon can only muster up a single word before her mouth fills the room with nothing but air. 

Deep down, you despise the rather obstructive yet comfortable position you’re in. Your tongue brushes against Haewon’s folds, going back and forth to taste of her warmth and her clit. The rest of her frame lays atop the desk, trembling, unable to keep herself steady under your grip. She’s lost you somewhere in between, clinging onto the edges of the table for support. You can only imagine her jaw agape, her expressions twisting in pleasure, wriggling and tossing her head around as she aimlessly tries to find some semblance of control.

Her mouth is the only tool she can use to make some sense of this overwhelming bliss. And even that doesn’t amount to much. ‘Shit,’ ‘so good,’ ‘don’t stop—’ these are only some of the things she groans out as you trap her in a whirlpool of her own ecstasy. It’s still not enough. You want to prove her wrong; you want to remind her what’s important, and the only way you can make sure she truly understands if she fucking cums all over your face.

So while Haewon writhes and makes a damn mess of your desk, you continue to feast on her pretty cunt. She’s making sure every person in the building knows how good your tongue is, and it’s in character with how unabashedly shameless she behaves in front of everyone. Her legs kick sharply against your chair, so you end up where you were supposed to be from the beginning—on your knees. And yet it doesn’t deter you; if anything, you grow more attached to her pussy, savoring every taste and drop, taking piece of every little part of her as yours.

You can’t wait to explore the rest of her body and claim it as yours. On the off chance you’re able to rip her shirt off, your hands roam her tight, lithe figure. You’re met by layers of fabric, frustrated at the inability to grab her breasts in their natural form. She grabs you by the wrists; it’s a miracle she’s able to feel you through the waves crushing her to the desk. You suck on her clit hard. She lets out this guttural moan that sounds violent in nature, like you’re hurting her, when you’re actually doing the exact opposite. 

And it’s how you play off each other for the most part. Your need to get Haewon naked is only matched by her desperation to cum. She doesn’t need to tell you directly how much she wants to. Her hands guide you beneath her shirt, and you press on the underside of her boobs in appreciation. You’re playing a dangerous game; you have no intention of letting go. 

Surprisingly, Haewon holds up well. One look and it might appear that she’s a complete wreck: how her body trembles unceasingly, how she has half her shirt lifted to give you a better view of her chest for when you eventually come up for air, how helpless she is at even the slightest touch. You made her like this. It’s a habit she’s used to by now; she’s learned that a figure like hers is meant to be admired, to be used.

Before you grow comfortable with the habit, the idea that you can eat her out on the desk for hours, Haewon cums.

She keens and shudders through her surprise orgasm. It’s aligned with her playful nature to cum without your knowing, even though the signs were there all along. Your tongue works through the torrent of fluid, then the wave of slick that you drink up. Lap whatever your satiated bud allows. You can see remnants of her climax spill down the desk and to the floor, to her pants. 

Even now, you’re still learning something new about your students. For one, you never knew Haewon squirts.

The wet desk would make for a perfect reference picture for when she questions your legitimacy again—but you have better ways of explaining yourself.

You give Haewon no reprieve; she mewls and whimpers as you lick her folds clean, till you settle into soft, gentle kisses. The situation is all sorts of fucked; she has places to be and friends to meet, but you have her on top of your desk, keening after eating her out and making her cum without a care. It’s gonna take an essay's worth of explaining the glaringly wet patches on her clothes and deep red marks over her skin. 

Truthfully, she’d rather be with you than with her overbearing friends—but you won’t hear it directly from her lips.

Speaking of, you hear a phone ring. Haewon cranes her neck in the direction of her bag. “Sir, I need my phone.” She huffs, gasping for air, each word spaced out between deep breaths. 

Regretfully, it takes every bit of your resolve to release your tongue from her warm cunt. You rummage through her bag and hand the phone over to her. It’s about picking up the pieces now, salvaging whatever you can make of the mess you made, albeit there’s hardly anything to save, even yourself. 

“Don’t.” Haewon uses her loose toes to point at you, shifting herself into a sitting position on the desk. You’re halfway done with the first button on your shirt when she stops you. She’s tapping through her phone, texting some bullshit excuse to her friends. Knowing her, they’re most likely no better than her; they might be playing into your little secret, too. All it takes is one person, one word of mouth, before information spreads around like wildfire.

Like everything else about her, you had mostly left it up to interpretation. Forcing details out of Haewon is a near-impossible task. You were never really a good negotiator. The deal usually ends up like this: her panties for a bonus in her grades, her lips for a signed excuse letter, and if she was really in the mood, her pussy for a cheat sheet. Sometimes, 

She sets her phone aside on the desk, hopping off the table to lay her hands on your exposed chest. Momentarily kissing you, she whispers, “Sir, I told them I would be a little late today. You should know better by now.” 

Her fingers wring around the collar of your button up shirt, eyes ablaze with reinvigorated lust, lips curled  in a pleasant smile. You’re so enamored with her, it drives you crazy. Even when she pushes you onto your chair, even when she rips the already undone shirt off your body, all you can do is pay attention to the stars in her eyes. Her warm, wanton gaze—both charming and alluring in all the right ways. She knows how to use every part of herself to near perfection. 

The rest of your clothes couldn’t come off any faster. Your pants and boxers pool around your ankles, followed shortly by a dark cropped sweatshirt. You’re not given any time to savor the perfection that is Haewon’s naked figure; she’s straddled on your lap, stroking your hard cock with a delicate grip. She smirks, and she has every right to look smug. You’re left breathless, under pressure; if only you can see yourself in the mirror and see how needy you look, and the utter control Haewon has over you.

And you allow her; this is her specialty, this is what she’s built for—to fucking end you.

If your words allow you, you’d command her to get on her knees, suck your cock and take a warm load all over her face; this is the ideal position to make the move. But you can’t. Not when you’re missing the point. 

Haewon is on the edge of your lap, running her hand around your cock, gathering spurts of precum on her nails and finger pads. She’s still winded from before, slow in her movements. The naughty look she gives your body never grows old. 

“I hope you don’t mind if I ask you a question,” she starts, looking down at the little mess she’s making on your thigh. You’re too overwhelmed to breathe, let alone say a word.

“Be honest with me. I’m being serious for once.” 

And she sounds like she means it. You gulp your throat as you enter the unknown.

Her eyes flicker up to meet yours, her expression deep in thought, something she’s not usually seen doing. And you feel the heat gradually building on your lap, but you’re paralyzed by anxiety for the sensation to register. She runs the other hand through hair to take a good luck at you: your rather sweaty face, somewhere between pleasure and tense. 

“Tell me,” she sighs, running a hand down your shoulder to your elbow, before continuing, “Am I the best student you’ve ever fucked?”

“Yes.” The word comes out involuntarily, as if it were muscle memory. Like your body knows, and it knows itself better than anyone or anything else.

It draws a piqued reaction from Haewon. She raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “And what about Yoona?”

“And what about her?” 

A reply you end up regretting almost immediately. Haewon doesn’t take bullshit for an answer, as evident by the cold, dour stare on her face. If there’s anyone who knows the ins and outs of university, it’s her. 

It doesn’t take long for you to cave in. “She’s so tight,” you admit, sounding like a guilty criminal being interrogated. “But you’re still the best, I swear.”

“And what about Yuna? That exchange student Lily? Miss Minatozaki? You say that to just about anyone.” 

In an instant, she goes from curious and passionate to downright frightening. It’s not supposed to be like this; normally it’s you who has the authority. Haewon can go on and on for hours if she wanted to. She has all the leverage, all the evidence, all the power to cause the end of everything, your life included. But she only wants one thing: the truth.

“They’re nothing compared to you. Promise. You’re still my favorite student.”

To a certain extent, you’re right; Haewon is your favorite, but for all for the wrong reasons. It has nothing to do with teaching her anything other than being a good toy, because deep down, she’s about as irredeemable as your peers make her out to be. Really, it’s about using her body, fucking her, pushing her to the absolute limits—anything to get your mind out of the numbing, monotonous work of being an actual professor. There are many good girls in class, including the names she mentions in passing, but this is a stark reminder that Haewon is yours, and you belong to Haewon.

“Then show me.”

And to drive the point even further, she sinks down on your lap, pressing her weight on your crotch—until her pussy meets your cock and you both disappear into the sea of pleasure again.

Haewon throws her head back, and she’s never looked more vulnerable, not even when you had her laid out on the desk. All this flesh and body to claim, and you have no clue where to begin. But that’s the least of your problems when she begins to glide up and down, rocking your lap with slow, agonizing thrusts. You end up blanking out and caring about the friction in your hips instead. 

The slip of your cock in and out of her pussy when she rides you. Your palms press against her waist while you watch her slowly come undone: the moans, curses, and every sound in between, the rapidly twisting expressions, the hypnotic jiggle of her chest. Soon, you find a steady rhythm to match, and everything becomes effortless. Both of you pushing and pulling against each other’s bodies in an effort to get deeper. You forget you’re a professor and her a student, only two souls in need of sex during some trying times in your lives.

In a way, you’re both meant to be. Fate is a strange entity.

Then Haewon regains some clarity, enough to be kissing you, moaning directly in your ear, demanding your gaze. Even when her hole swallows your cock, she still wants your attention. And even while you have it so deep in her cunt that she’s mewling, struggling for oxygen, she manages to form a coherent sentence.

“Tell me I’m the tightest. Tell me I have the best pussy you ever fucked.” 

God, she’s so fucking tight you can’t fully comprehend it. Perhaps even more, and you’re used to using her. Maybe it’s all that pent-up frustration toward your dead end job, toward Mina, that makes her clench tighter. That’s now how pussy works; you’re just stretching her out really hard, but you have nothing sensible to conclude with. What you can tell, however, is that you needed this—and you needed it badly. 

You’re thankful you closed off the doors and curtains to the classroom, because the last thing anyone needs to see and hear is the sight of Haewon riding you while you both moan about how good the other feels. 

“Love this pussy,” you murmur, breathing against her collarbone, wanting a taste of her taut nipple. She has you in a tight bearhug that binds your hands around her waist. “Fuck—so—fucking—tight—the best—”

And that’s all she needed to hear. Every word—every sound—slips from her lips like it hurts, but she’s in total bliss. She moves her hips against the roll of your cock with deep emphasis, like fitting puzzle pieces together, and it sends you. You’re left even more breathless, more in awe at how fucking well Haewon takes your length. As if it was always meant for her. 

Curses and praise aside, she’s never one to talk during sex. But then she makes the faintest comment about how your cock fits so snug inside her, and you honestly just lose it.

Once in a while, a certain inquiry is brought up. What’s your favorite thing about me, Haewon asks, when it’s supposed to be the opposite. You’re supposed to give out this very question to your students as a way to improve your teaching style and maybe come off as an approachable authority figure. As expected, it wasn’t helpful in the slightest. She then would suddenly come to you at the most random of times with this particular question, and you’d be preoccupied with numerous things—home life, school activities, the usual—to find an answer. 

But right there, right as you spear deep into her tight, needy cunt, is where you figure it all out. It’s all in the little details. Your hand going up and down her arched back. The squelching of her pussy against your cock. The furious sound of your flesh slapping against hers. Her loose, shrilly whines while you bury your face between her chest, begging you harder. Her hands tangled with your hair and nape. All that while she’s bouncing on your lap at such a feverish pace; she’s going to break the chair you’re sitting on.

Before you know it, your tongue has traveled all over the most sensitive parts of her body: nipples, neck, and even pits. 

Everything about Haewon is so ridiculous, you can’t believe how much of a challenge she has been for the longest time that you’ve forgotten how easily she folds. Like she’s meant to be used.

But no punishment is suitable enough; no amount of discipline can change her. If anything, it only fuels her goal to thread the needle even further.

“Gonna fucking cum, Haewon,” you hiss against her ear, blurring the line between kissing and biting her collarbone. Using all the strength in your hips, you have her legs spread as wide as they can over the chair, over your thighs. The squirt she releases as she crashes on your lap serves to fan the flames in your cock even brighter. It’s all but inevitable that you’ll pour it all inside her, and she wouldn’t want it any other way.

If you had any semblance of a spine, you’d never let her hear the end of it. The idea that her pussy isn’t getting its fair share of seed disgusts her. She needs to learn what boundaries are, and how not to cross said lines. At least there’s one lesson you can impart on her before you split, but you’ll save that for another day, because you cum.

You fuck Haewon so hard, she turns into mush that melts in your grasp. Forget the guttural groan you made; the aftermath is alarming. Her pussy drips with a huge load pooling on the chair and trickling down her thighs. You make sure you bury yourself to the hilt and unload inside her. The evidence is undeniable; from the smell to the sight of clothes and cum, there’s no concealing it—if there was even anything to hide, because your salacious activity could easily be heard anywhere in the building. 

And lost in the madness is your train of thought; your body is reeling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you simply idle. Let your cock stay in Haewon’s warmth as long as possible. Let the setting sun bathe her pretty face in that lovely afterglow. Let her slowly recover and realize that you’ve been right all along about everything.

“Sir, you came inside me a lot,” she says, a little over a whisper, trying to take record of your work. Her eyes stay glued to the puddle of cum dripping down her leg, running a finger to taste you. 

“For my favorite student, why wouldn’t I,” you tell her, caressing your hand up and down her back. Even through the climax, you never stopped. 

The brief, peaceful respite is interrupted by, you guessed it, another phone. This time, it’s not Haewon’s. She moves gingerly bending down, almost tumbling over in an attempt to retrieve your phone from the depths of your pocket. Your only contribution is ensuring she doesn’t bash her head on the floor. 

“Well, well, well,” she comments, looking at your phone with a familiar, sarcastic tone before handing it over to you. “Speak of the devil.”

On the screen are two missed calls and one new text, all from none other than Mina herself. A grim reminder of the reality you live in.

The message is as predictable as it reads. She won’t be home till late in the evening, which might as well be dawn of the next day.

“Miss Myoui is getting it. A hundred percent sure.” 

She delivers it with such conviction that it might as well be fact. You’d be upset about the very thought—anyone would—but a glance at Haewon gives you an idea. One that leaves her curious.

“Sir? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You can already imagine it: the image of railing Haewon everywhere. On the table, against the wall, under the showers. Maybe if you’re lucky enough, Mina will go through that door and be greeted by the sight of her least favorite student getting fucked by her husband from behind.

You show her the text, and just like that, you’re both one and the same. A look of pride crosses her face, as if she’s accomplished an important milestone—and it’s quite a momentous one.

And what better way to celebrate than inside the comfort of your home.

—————

(A/N: Been down bad for Haewon since December. Also, NMIXX is actually good now! Their latest EP has some bangers, highly recommend Run for Roses and Passionfruit. The setting might be a bit more on the bleaker/less wholesome side, but I hope it's not uncomfortable/upsetting. Thank you for reading!)

[beenbaanbuun]

sober w/ jeong yunho

words - 🧍🏻‍♀️

genre - smut, fluff

warnings - mentions of drinking (no one is drunk), a single spank, light finger play, a single pussy slap, i think that’s it

——————————————————————————

“how many tequila shots do you think i can do tonight?” you ask yunho as you busy yourself around the room. being messy is all well and good until you have to pace the bedroom collecting things from every single nook and cranny. your boyfriend looks up from his phone, casting you a quick, disapproving glance before going back to whatever is on his phone screen.

“i don’t know, pumpkin,” he purrs nonchalantly, “a safe amount?”

you can’t help but roll your eyes at the way he scolds you in such a blasé manner, but you suppose he isn’t wrong. you don’t exactly have the best reputation for drinking. in fact the night you met him you were drunk out of your mind, far too gone to tell him your address and definitely not anywhere close to sober enough to be on your own. it was rather weird waking up on the sofa with a strange man standing over you with a plate of breakfast and a coffee for you.

still, it can’t have been that weird if by the time that night came around, you were screaming his name with his head between your thighs.

love is weird.

“yes, yunho,” you turn your head to face him, hands still rummaging through your pile of shoes to find the exact pair of kitten heals you’d mentally paired with this outfit, “you won’t even know i’ve been drinking by the time i get home!”

he hums, clearly not believing your words. you wouldn’t either to be honest, but it still irritates you to know that your boyfriend isn’t taking your promise, however much of a jest it might be, seriously. forget the shoes, you tell yourself as you stand up, you have more pressing issues right now.

bare feet carry you across the plush carpet of your bedroom, guiding you to the man you can’t help but be stupidly in love with. you notice the way he hasn’t pushed your teddies to the side like your last boyfriend did when lying in bed with you, but instead chose to reorganise them carefully around his large frame. the cup next to him isn’t one of the ‘appropriate’ ones you’d brought for guests, but instead your second favourite teddy bear mug, your first favourite sitting next to it with a drink for you sitting inside of it. as you get close enough, you grab it and take a sip; cinnamon iced latte, your favourite.

a smile rises to your face as you place it back upon the cabinet next to the bed. the sound alerts yunho of your nearby presence, and without even sparing you a glance, he reaches out and dips a hand beneath your short skirt to rest upon your thigh. you stumble as he tugs you closer to the bed, catching yourself with your hands on his torso, fingers spreading themselves across his chest.

“yunho!” you squeal as the hand moves north, finding a home upon your ass cheek. his fingers sink into the flesh to get a better grip and as he tugs at you again, his plan is proven to work. you topple forwards entirely, body collapsing against his. you should push yourself up and retreat back to the standing position you were in seconds before, but yunho is insistent. he pushes and pulls at you until you’re straddling his waist, skirt flared out atop your thighs and his stomach. the hand atop your ass never leaves; the other one joins it there after tossing his phone to the other side of the bed.

now his full attention is focussed solely on you. his piercing brown eyes combined with a knowing frown is enough to have you avoiding eye contact. “nope,” he murmurs, one hand giving you a firm swat to your left cheek. within seconds, your eyes are back on him.

“yunho,” you whisper, not allowing yourself to speak in a tone loud enough for your voice to show any signs of weakness. despite your body’s desire to give into his every command, your mind is stronger than than, “i need to get ready.”

he hums and nods, fully understanding that you can’t sit in his grasp for eternity; you have things to do.

“you can get ready in a minute, can’t you?” his hands move further north. you gasp as they slip beneath the fabric of your simple cotton panties, spreading his fingers out until you feel his pinky graze against your puckered hole. it’s a brief touch, but long enough to make you feel as though it was entirely intentional. the smug look on his face as he retracts his fingers tells you exactly the same thing. “i have things i need to discuss with you first.”

one hand slips away from your cheeks, pulling itself around to your front until his rough pads are able to find their way to your pussy. they dance around it, flitting from side to side, spreading your slick with every single tactical movement. never once does he touch your clit, but that’s not to say that he doesn’t have you squirming

“you’re going to behave tonight, aren’t you?” he dips the tip of his finger into your hole ever so slightly. the sudden intrusion is enough to have your hips rocking and begging for more, but it’s gone before you know it, back to playing in your wetness that drips from you like water. “not going to get too drunk and ring me at three am begging for a rescue, hm?” you’re silent for a second or two, but a sharp tap of three fingers against your aching bud is enough to bring you back round to reality. you shake your head.

“i’ll be good, yunho,” you nod, “i’ll come home practically sober at a normal time, okay? i’ll catch a cab and send you my location so you can be sure i’m safe. i promise i won’t be messy.”

he gives you a pretty smile, happy at your urgency to comply. still, he shakes his head.

“i’d rather pick you up than a stranger, honey,” his finger travels all too close to your hole once more. just as you think he’s about to slip it inside of you, he pulls it away. “i’m just saying, i don’t want you out of your mind when you call me, okay?”

you nod.

“good girl,” he slips his hands free from your underwear, a dull whimper exiting your throat rather unceremoniously, “it’s nice to see you behaving so well for me,” both hands upon your hips once more, he guides you to stand. “after all, honey! the only way i’m going to lay a finger on that pretty pussy when you return is if you’re sober.”

[targaryenluvs]

ooh what about coryo x a plinth!reader, like sejanus’s younger sister who’s friendly but cautious. and though she accepts coryo into the family (since he was her brother’s “friend”) the way he just took his place begins to unsettle her until she finds out what happened but by then it’s too late and she can’t get rid of him

RUNAWAY

pairings: dark!coriolanus snow x fem!plinth!reader

summary: you’d always considered coriolanus to be a friend of yours. family even. but after sejanus’s death you find him to be off. he’s keeping something from your family and you’ve run out of time to get as far away as you can.

warnings: mentioned murder/hanging, nc kissing, secrets, manipulation, lying, possessive, blackmail, forced marriage, implied sex

a/n: thank u for the requestsss!! i’ve had no inspo lately so thank y’all

he looked so different.

well not so, but to anyone else it was just a change of clothes and a hairstyle. but he truly had changed, in personality and looks. his face rarely smiled anymore, it being reserved for a small group.

what you didn’t know was that the group was just you.

your family has been quick to welcome him, sejanus’s loyal best friend. the one who’d been by his side, when it happened and before it. who helped him in the academy and as peacekeepers. you liked coriolanus a lot back then, he was always nice to you. bringing you a rose or a treat he’d managed to charm a naive baker into passing his way free of charge. you’d always seen him as a brother, his presents being an affectionate way of showing his liking of you. sejanus’s little sister. you were happy for sejanus, as most of the kids weren’t exactly welcoming. having an acquaintance, friend even, was good for him.

but if you’d known he had other intentions in mind for these years you would have ran for the hills.

coriolanus was on the fast track for success.

with the plinth fortune at his back he was for once providing what he wanted to for his family. presidency in the horizon, respect by his side and lucy gray in the past.

but there was something he wanted from the plinth family, even if he’d already taken their fortune and son. their daughter. before now, he was meek. he may have held himself high, fooled some and scared others with his smart self he’d never managed to get the one thing he wanted, you. but there was no way you could deny him now, right?

you didn’t know how it had happened but you weren’t miserable. you knew you’d have to marry one day so why not coriolanus? you thought to yourself as you fixed your wedding dress, you’d asked for time alone before you walked since- well you didn’t know why. you just wanted a second to breathe before the entire capitol came down on you with a million questions, pokes and prods.

you were in corio and yourselfs room. as you surveyed the room one last time as an unmarried woman you noticed something peeking out from his bed. you knew coriolanus liked to write, but you assumed it was all business related. god you wish your curiosity had kept itself in check.

your dress was wet in places. the tears were non-stop and you couldn’t breathe. just when you thought the tears and heavy breathing would die down you felt coriolanus’s hand on your bare shoulder, “you should have not read it.” his voice was stern, unwavering. you wanted nothing more than to kill him. “don’t be hysterical. get up. he’s gone and there is nothing you can do about it. i won’t allow you to ruin my image, get up.” you continued crying as he lifted you up, manoeuvring you like a doll. moulded for him.

he wiped away your tears as you buried your face in his neck and your nails in his biceps. you were holding on to him for dear life, you feared if he wasn’t there to ground you the floor would eat you.

“settle down, we have a wedding to finish.” you choked on god knows what, “do you honestly believe i’d marry you now? no! i’m telling everyone. and they’ll see what a disgusting monster you are. how dare you come to our family for reprieve and safety! use our money! stay in our home and smile at us knowing what you did?” you screamed as you ran towards the door, being met with a guard. he was large, burly and did not look like he cared about you. the tears down your face and he held no sympathy. “i pay him handsomely. he won’t help you, no one here will.” coriolanus walked over to the door and shut it as you walked backwards.

you had no clue what he would do to you, if he could have sejanus hung and then face his family everyday. charm you, love you, sleep with you and now marry?

“would you like to tell your mother? that someone she considers to be a son took her child from her? would she even believe you? or would she die of heartbreak before you could explain? what happens when i prove your lying? no one knows besides you and me. your word vs mine. a powerful business man, game maker of the hunger games, from old money and wealth. coriolanus snow, soon to be president and his dear wife. y/n plinth, a daughter of the plinths, new money with no history in the capitol and whom made money of off the war whilst others suffered. even if they did believe you, who would stop me from making sure they see their son again?”

checkmate.

you had no where to run to and your family on the line, so when coriolanus walked to you, fixed your hair and dress, you let him.

when your father walked you down the isle to the monster who destroyed your family, you let him.

when your mother cried tears of happiness for her daughters marriage, you let her.

when coriolanus kissed you passionately, hand dropping quite low as the crowd cheered for your love. you let them.

and when he carried you to your new bedroom, ripped your dress off and made his way down, you let him.

because you knew there was no way you’d allow him to touch your parents, hurt them. maybe they could get away from his poisoned thorns that dug so deeply. by the end of the night you’d been taken in so many ways you couldn’t move without irritating a bruise. and with coriolanus’s arm trapping you in his chest only one thought blared through your mind.

RUNAWAY!

[multifandomfanficss]

Never Listen To Venkman

Egon Spengler x Reader

(With platonic!Peter Venkman)

Prompt: When you and Peter are left alone to experiment with a suspicious, blue, viscous slime, things go south and Egon comes home to you having a paranormal induced panic attack.

Warnings: panic attacks, autistic meltdowns, sensory issues, detailed descriptions of sensory issues, feeling uncomfortable in one’s own skin.

A/N: Back in my Ghostbusters era. It is contractually obligated that I must re-obsess every time a new movie comes out. I’ve loved Egon since I was a little kid. I can’t believe I’ve never written for him. The italics are flashbacks. This is crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

The reader is intended to be autistic, but can be read any way you’d like. Anyone is allowed to relate and see themselves in the reader wether they’re autistic or not!

You were sitting at your desk with in your small shared lab with Egon in the firehouse when you heard footsteps. You thought you had been home alone until Peter walked in.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were going on a double date with Winston while Ray and Egon were at the movie.” You questioned him, putting down your pen. You had been taking notes on a new kind of slime the boys had found. It was different from the other slime they’d found last month when Vigo was trying to take over. While Vigo’s slime was pink in color, this slime was blue and had a more viscous consistency.

“Oscar had a fever, so Dana and I decided to cancel. She thinks he’s getting his first tooth.” Peter smiles. Despite the jokes he’s made and the amount of times he’s said he was nowhere near ready to be a father, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy being back with Dana again and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love Oscar just as much as he loved her.

“Did Winston still go?” You ask.

“Oh, yeah. He’s probably back in her apartment with the bed rocking as we speak. No way he’s coming home tonight.” Peter laughed at his own joke as you cringe.

“You’re disgusting.” You roll your eyes.

“What are you up to tonight? Got a hot date with a slime? Not too different from your usual dating life.” He chuckles.

“You’re such a dick, Venkman. I figured while everybody was out tonight I’d try to find out SOMETHING about this new slime. Egon and I have been studying it for two days and we have literally nothing.” You gesture to the blue goo on your desk.

“Do you need help?” He asks.

“Are you offering to help me on your night off?” You ask, shocked.

“I’ve got nothing better to do.” Peter shrugs.

“Are you gonna take it seriously?” You hesitate.

“I’m always serious!” Peter bluffs. Peter was never serious. Egon was always serious. His bluntness and black and white thinking had always been a comfort to you. He wasn’t some puzzle you had to figure out. He just was. Being with him wasn’t a guessing game the same way it was with Peter.

“Somehow that’s hard to believe, but I could really use your expertise in parapsychology, so I’ll say yes.” You sigh. You know this probably isn’t the best idea, but Peter knows more about this topic than you do. You’d be stupid to reject his help.

“If you’ll be the subject, I’ll run the experiment.” He says, taking out the helmet with wires.

“Okay.” You agree. Once the helmet is on you should be connected to a series of machines able to read the energy of your emotions, as well as the slime itself, giving you a more direct connection without touching. Peter starts asking you a series of questions, trying to draw different emotional responses.

“Think of a time when you were happy, really happy.” He prompts. Your mind, wandered around the room, trying to think of something, when your eyes landed on Egon’s book sitting on his desk.

It made you think of the first time you realized you had deep feelings for him. While you’d always thought he was attractive, you realized your feelings were deeper than you thought, far beyond a harmless little crush, one day when he let you borrow his book. As you read his notes in the margins you were able to analyze things like him, see the world through his eyes. You saw how his brain connected and processed things. You always liked the person he’d shown you, but writing in the margins is different. When you take notes in a book, you’re not putting on a mask for people to see. Notes in the margins are just for you. There’re your unfiltered thoughts. Seeing who Egon was when nobody was watching was different. He was funny, smart, deep, curious, not as confident as he pretended to be; he didn’t censor himself in his books. He wasn’t quiet in his books. Reading his margins felt intimate.

“You’re thinking about Spengler, aren’t you?” Venkman teases.

“Why would you say that?” You look at him, embarrassed.

“Because you’re in loooooove!” Peter mocks.

“Can we change the subject?” You practically beg.

“Think of a moment where you were uncomfortable.” Peter prompts.

“This conversation.” You fiddle with your fingers.

“No, really. I wanna see how it reacts to discomfort.”

“Fine.” You sigh. You think back to one of your many lab accidents. Working in a lab with sensory issues is never easy and that was something you and Egon both struggled with.

You think back to the day when you superglued your fingers shut by accident. You got them apart, but you couldn’t get the the residue off. You started to hyperventilate, on the verge of tears. You wanted to hit your hands on things, but you knew that wouldn’t help. You couldn’t peel off the glue without peeling off your skin.

“What’s wrong?” Egon looked at you puzzled, and a bit worried.

“Superglue! I- I- I can’t get it off!” You shake your hands, violently, your whole body is tensed up.

Egon quickly takes a bottle out from his desk drawer and runs over to you. He grabs your hands.

“Look at me, (Y/N). It’s okay. I’ll take off all the residue.” He promises, giving you a soft smile. Despite not liking seeing you in such discomfort, he forces the smile to help calm you down. He begins to massage the liquid from the bottle onto your fingers with a rag.

“See, it’s okay. It’s coming off.” He continues to speak softly, calming you.

“What is that stuff?” You ask.

“I wish I could say it’s some sort of fancy, scientific, protective disinfectant, but as it so happens it’s only nail polish remover.” You both chuckle quietly. “Janine gave it to me the last time I got superglue on something and couldn’t get it off.” He smiles down at your hands, still focused on getting the last little bit off.

“This slime is so different from the mood slime. I thought I saw it let go of a bubble, but it’s mostly doing nothing. I think it might be dead. I think it might be time to bury it in the backyard.” Peter begins to fake sob.

“Knock it off.” You laugh. “What backyard? This is Manhattan!”

“You should try touching it.” Peter suggests.

“Egon, said I should under no circumstances touch it directly, especially while he’s not here.” You inform him.

“Well Egon, is being overprotective. Nothing bad happened when everyone else touched the pink slime and I accidentally ate green slime once.” Venkman says.

“What do you mean accidentally?” You ask.

“It was our first mission. Slimer ran through me. It was a whole thing. I think you should touch it… You might be able to figure out what it is before Spengler gets back…” He tries to change your mind.

“You’re sure there were no serious side effects from touching the other slimes?” You ask, hesitantly. Egon would be annoyed if he found out you went against his pleas to keep your hands away from the plasma, but you wanted to impress him.

“Nothing serious. I grew an extra pinky, but they cut it off.” He jokes.

“Haha, very funny, Venkman.” You roll your eyes.

“Fine.” You sigh, taking a deep breath before plunging your hand into the blue viscous goo. “Oh…This is literally fine.” You feel no effect, but when your heart rate picks up you realize you spoke too soon. You fall onto the floor, knocking over the slime. You feel like your heart is racing, like it could beat out of your chest and you can’t suck enough air into your lungs. You’re terrified.

“(Y/N)!” Peter yells, rushing to the floor to help you. He tries to touch the the hand not covered in blue slime, but you push him away, sobbing. You don’t want him anywhere near you. You’re slipping away from reality into a deep state of panic and paranoia.

“Please! No!” You sob. It’s the only thing you can manage to get out. You barley recognize Peter anymore. He doesn’t feel like a friend. He feels like a threat.

“Honestly, the movie was quite terrible. Ray stopped for a 99 cent pizza on the corner. What did you- (Y/N)?!” Egon speaks as he enters the room, cutting himself off when he notices you’re in distress.

“Pete, what happened?!” Egon questions once he sees Venkman.

“We were doing an experiment and they touched the goo and they just started freaking out. They won’t let me near them.” Peter tells him, obviously shaken. You hear the two men, but you don’t process them. It’s like you’re underwater.

“This is different from their usual sensory issues. I think they’re having a panic attack.” Egon kneels in front of you. “(Y/N), you’re okay. You’re safe. You’re in the firehouse. I’m here.” He tells you slowly.

“I- I can’t breathe!” You gasp for air.

“Your lungs are expanding and contracting at a rate too fast for your body to intake oxygen. I need you to try to breathe slow and deep with me. In…and out. Nice and slow.” He prompts. “Peter, I need latex gloves and towels.” Venkman could have made multiple jokes about Egon’s command, but looking at you this way made him uneasy. It wasn’t the right time. After being handed the gloves, Egon slipped them on and got to work cleaning off your slime covered arm. You begin to sob, overwhelmed by the feeling of the slime, the latex gloves, and the towel. It was difficult to handle on top of your panic attack. “Peter, we need to get them into the decontamination shower.”

“No!” You gasp between sobs.

“Come, on. I’ll go with you. We can get all the plasma off of you.” Egon speaks softly, but with a gentle urgency, as he tries to coax you to the shower. You shake your head no. “Are you against touch right now?” He asks.

“They did not like when I touched them.” Venkman warns.

“Only you-“ You break out in a sob. It doesn’t even cross your mind that you may be offending Peter by only wanting Egon. Luckily he’s not offended. Egon begins to take off his glove to provide skin to skin contact on the arm not drenched in slime in an effort to comfort you.

“Aren’t you worried about getting that stuff on you?” Venkman questions, worried Egon will shutdown like you.

“I’m getting in the decontamination shower anyway.” Egon shrugs, turning to you. He takes your hand in his, softly rubbing the top with his thumb.

“But- but your clothes will get all wet!” You sob. You knew Egon had his own sensory issues. You’d often have to help him when his long sleeves would get wet during experiments. It would drive him crazy. He avoided puddles like the plague and always had an umbrella nearby.

“Try not to worry about me right now. I just want you to focus on your breathing. I can always change my clothes.” He smiles. While it hurts him to see you so distressed, he was happy to know you cared about his comfort. “Let’s go shower. You can’t leave all that slime on you. I believe it’s worsening your mental state.” You nod, still crying.

“I’ll get them under the shower, I’ll need you to turn it on. Make sure not to touch the slime. I got a minuscule amount on my finger and it’s making me rather anxious. I can only imagine what this amount is doing to them.” Egon tells Peter. He helps you to stand, walking your trembling form over to the shower. “There we go. Just a few more steps. You’re doing wonderfully, (Y/N).” Egon softly attempts to comfort you.

Once you’re under the shower head, Venkman turns it on. Both you and Egon jolt at the sudden water pressure. He tightens both his jaw and his grip on you, holding his eyes shut tight. He can’t stand the feeling of his wet clothes against his body, but he’s brave for you. Once adjusted to the water, Egon begins to wash the slime off your body with care. Peter leaves to go upstairs and get you some towels. You feel the panic and paranoia start to leave your body. Despite still being incredibly anxious, you were starting to phase out of your slime induced panic attack. You lean against Egon, struggling to hold your own body weight. Maybe you’ll be more embarrassed tomorrow, but right now you just needed to be held. You were craving pressure on your body. You felt as if you would float off the ground if you weren’t held down. Egon wraps his arms around you, bringing you closer. He places a kiss on your forehead before placing his chin on top of your head. You snuggled into his chest, finding his pulse. You didn’t have the time or the bandwidth in your brain to think about what the kiss meant. You just wanted to be close to him.

“You’re okay, (Y/N). You’re safe.” Egon tells you. You’re not sure if it’s for your benefit or his. It’s for both, really.

You’re quiet for most of the night, unable to bring yourself to speak. Egon doesn’t mind. He thinks a verbal shutdown is more than understandable after the night you’ve had. After the shower, you follow Egon around the fire station. You don’t want to be alone right now. He doesn’t mind. He puts out some of his clothes for you to wear; pajama pants and one of his soft sweaters. He goes to leave the room for you to change, but you stop him.

“Can- can we just like? Turn around?” You ask. “I’m sorry. If you’re uncomfortable, that’s okay. I just really don’t wanna be alone right now.” You voice is hoarse from crying.

“Of course.” He smiles, turning around.

“I’m decent.” He informs you after a minute of rustling.

“Me too.” You tell him and you both turn around.

“I’m sorry.” You tell him, near tears again. You feel awful for how tonight went. This was supposed to be the boys’ day off. Egon gives you a sad look.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You were just trying to help. Venkman told me he put you up to it anyway.” Egon sighs.

“I probably shouldn’t have listened to him.” You let out a sad chuckle, one tear slipping past you, down your cheek. You wipe it quickly.

“Never listen to Venkman.” Egon gives a sad laugh.

“At least we figured out what the slime does… Egon, can I ask you a question?” You hesitate.

“Well, you just did, but yes.” He smiles, joking to lighten the mood. You smile at him.

“Why did you do all that? You took off your gloves, putting yourself at risk and then you put yourself through sensory hell just to get me cleaned up.” You question him.

“Isn’t it obvious? (Y/N), I care about you.” You look at him, thinking about the tone in his words. You can’t quite decipher it, but there’s something else there. Is it possible he could feel the same way about you that you feel about him? “You should get some sleep.” He interrupts your thoughts. “If you’d rather not be alone, you may sleep in my room tonight. I would find it beneficial to monitor you overnight to watch for long lasting effects, anyway.” He adds.

“Only if that’s okay with you.” You hesitate.

“Of course it’s okay with me. I just suggested it.” He smiles.

Once you’re settled into bed, Egon turns off the lights and climbs in next to you.

“Egon, I’m still anxious.” You blurt out into the dark.

“Do you need pressure?” He asks.

“Yes.” You say, hoping he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t seem to mind, as he scoops you into his arms. You cuddle into his chest, surrounded by him, surrounded by safety. You know this should be weird, but it doesn’t feel weird. As Egon kisses the top of your forehead again, bidding you goodnight, you wonder what this all means. You wonder what you are to each other. You feel you’ve crossed the line as friends, but you’re too tired and too awkward and too anxious to talk about labels. You and Egon never quite fit into boxes as people anyway. Your relationship didn’t need to either. Whatever this was between you was comforting. It was safe and it was going to help you sleep tonight.

[sinnersweets]

DogDay x Reader part 3

<----part 2, part 4--->

A/N: It’s been a week since your first day 

Everytime I came in for my shift I always needed to change into my uniform which was starting to get tiring. I wasn’t allowed to take the shirt, nametag, or headband home. I promised the team member that I would bring everything back, but they said they needed to wash it every time with the vanilla scent that DogDay has. I huffed in disappointment and took the clothes and went to go change.  

--------------- 

I was told that at the start of the week all the helpers need to give their assigned Smiling Critter a bath that way their scent can be strong again. Also, we needed to arrive two hours before Playcare opened to everyone. Guessing it took a while to wash everyone. Then a thought came into my head. DogDay is a dog, and dogs typically hated getting wet. Oh boy, today would not be easy for me.  

--------------- 

The Playcare looked scary when the lights were off. The only lights present was from the Bron lamps. I walked over to the counselors building and somehow while looking at the ground, I tripped over a wire. “Ah-!” I hit the ground and laid on the floor for ten seconds before rising to my elbows and looking at the wire. While I looked back at the wire, I noticed that it started to move. As I got a closer look, I saw that this wire was fluffy, and purple. “Huh?” Then suddenly whatever I tripped on wrapped around my ankle and quickly pulled me into the air. I didn’t dare make a sound while I was being hoisted up knowing that the kids were all asleep. My morning was going great. 

I was brought up to the statues and finally saw what the heck grabbed me. CatNap. This was the first time I’ve seen him up close and he was by far the scariest one out of the group. Since I was hanging upside down, I had to hold my shirt down with my hands. “Hey there CatNap...could you um, put me down please?” Where the hell was Sarah?! She’s supposed to be keeping an eye on him as his helper. CatNap just stared at me. DogDay did tell me that CatNap doesn’t really talk, but him not talking was making this much creepier. 

“Psst, CatNap, Angel, what are you doing?!” I looked at the floor and spotted DogDay just below me. “CatNap she’s my helper not a doctor. She’s a friend!” DogDay whispered but also yelled out. “Friend....” That’s all CatNap said before releasing his tail from me. I fell and landed into DogDays arms. “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven Angel?” He laughed at the joke that he made. I look towards him with a concerned look on my face. “He pulled me into the air and then dropped me...and you...”  

It then registered what DogDay had just said to me, and I smiled and laughed, all the anger that I felt left. “I can’t believe you just said that. That was cheesy.” I wiped a tear away from laughing. “I wanted to see a smile on your face Angel, especially since what was happening with you and CatNap.” “Yeah, what was that all about anyway?” His face then looked nervous for a moment before he answered. “He’s not a fan of adults. He rarely tolerates his helper. He didn’t mean any harm, really.” I looked back up to the statues, but CatNap was no longer there. “Hm. Well next time I see him I want an apology.” DogDay chuckled and nodded his head. “Oh, I like your earrings, Angel.” I totally forgot that I went out yesterday and bought me a pair of sun earrings. I liked getting earrings to match my outfit. It was earlier than I liked to be awake at, so it slipped my mind that I wore them. “Thank you, there new.” 

--------------- 

DogDay led me to a hidden door that blended in perfectly against the walls. This was where they got washed up. Each Smiling Critter had their own room with everything they needed to be cleaned properly. The whole time we were walking towards DogDays room he was cheerful but as soon as we entered the room, and I closed the door he started shaking. “Hey, hey it’s okay. Taking baths are fun!” I grabbed onto his paw to try to calm him down. DogDay then stopped shaking and looked at me and smiled. “Normally I would give myself a bath but now that I have you Angel, this should be less scary.” I nodded my head and went to put on an apron to not get myself wet. “Alright, let's get started! First, I will need to take off your pendant, don’t want that getting dirty now.” DogDay lowered himself so that I could reach behind his neck and undo the knot from his pendant.  

Since it was just us, I decided to ask him a question that I had for him. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you this, but you said you went through a lot of applicants before landing on me. What made me stand out?” I could feel DogDay stiffen when I asked this. I was still untying his pendant when he spoke. “Everyone else's application seemed so boring, plus the pictures that they sent in I could tell that they would not be good to work down here at Playcare. But yours Angels, your picture was just full of-” I accidentally cut him off as his pendant was quite heavy and made me yelp in surprise. “Jeez this is heavy!”  

DogDay saw me struggling to pick it up and took it from me and set it down on the table. “Woops, should’ve worn you, sorry Angel.” “That’s really heavy, guess the kids weren’t lying when they said you were strong.” I nudge DogDay playfully. His ears perked up and he wagged his tail. Cute. “Okay now the not so fun part.” I pointed over to where DogDay needed to be at to get washed. He swallowed hard but then walked on all fours over to the area. I saw that there was a step stool for me, so I grabbed it and placed it near him. “I’ll try to be really quick, okay?” He nodded and closed his eyes. I turned on the hose and started to wet DogDay. 

--------------- 

It took around three minutes to fully wet DogDay, yeesh. Now I had to put the vanilla scented soap on him. To pull his mind away from his bath I decided to playfully tease him about calling me pretty. “By the way, I never got to thank you for calling me pretty.” “Huh?!” His ears perked up again. “Oh- right, I forgot that Damian shouted that out...Well you are pretty Angel.” I scrubbed his ears and smiled. “Thank you.” It took me thirty minutes to cover DogDay with soap. This was tiring, but I’ll improve over time. “Okay almost done, just gotta rinse you off and then dry you and then comb your fur and that’s it!” As I said it aloud, I realized that those tasks would also take a while.  

I rinsed off DogDay and turned off the hose. I walked over to a cubby and took off my apron while also grabbing a blow dryer. As I was plugging in the blow dryer I looked over and noticed that he had a look in his eyes. “Angel, I gotta shake this water off.” Oh no. “Nonono don’t shake, please don’t shake.” “It’s dripping down my body...” “Don’t shake!” “I gotta shake!” “No no shaking-” Too late. DogDay shook all the water off of him. DogDay sighed as he no longer felt as wet as he did before. “Whew I feel so much better.” DogDay turned to look at me and he then saw the aftermath of what he did.  

There I stood, all drenched in water. “So sorry Angel...” Even though I was drenched in chilly water I wasn’t angry at all. I started to laugh aloud. “Haha! I should’ve known that was gonna happen.” DogDay smiled and wagged his tail. “I really tried to not shake Angel.” “It’s okay, ahem, now let’s dry ourselves off.”  

I got dried as best as I could but knew I was going to need to change out of these wet clothes before getting sick. I brushed out DogDays fur and added in some more vanilla scent to him. DogDay then grabbed his pendant and I decided to buff it out so that it’ll shine. I looked at the pendant and saw my reflection. “There, all beautiful now.” “Yes, you are Angel...I-I mean yes, it’s beautiful now haha...” I booped him on the nose with my finger and smiled at him. “Thank you, you are looking pretty handsome now after that bath.” His ears perked up and his tail was wagging back and forth fast. Seeing DogDay like this made me happy, and warm inside...maybe I was already getting sick.  

A/N: Thank you for reading!

[livelaughlovesubs]

Nini!! Guess who’s back from hibernation!! :D

Sorry it’s been a while since I’ve interacted on your page, I got busy with stuff :(

Anyways, incubus Fyodor and priest reader! (Yes, ik old request, wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t remember.) punishing Fyodor for becoming cocky bc you were not paying attention to him, he even went as far as threatening to go get fucked by someone else! (He was bluffing. He’s too addicted to your cock at that point) now he has to learn the consequences of his actions when he’s forced to cockwarm you with his mouth while you read the bible, not even sparing him a glance! You even made sure to chastise him so he wouldn’t try anything. Every time he tries even moving at bit, you grab his hair tightly and push in more of your dick, making his eye tear up as he grips onto your thighs desperately. By the time you finish Luke’s gospel, Fyodor is looking up at you pleadingly with drool dripping down his chin for you to finally use him. <3

- 🍮 ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)σ"

Incubus Fyodor 3

Dom!reader x sub!fyodor

Warning: I’ll use dick - interpret it however you want, blow job, cockwarming, hierophilia - (incorrect) religious aspects, hair pulling, choking/ gagging, dacryphilia

🍮 anon!!! I missed you and your fyodor requests! I love that little bastard hehe. Also nope, I did not forget, cuz I freaking loved those ideas.

Normally you were nice enough to satisfy his needs, he needed it to survive after all. But he was an incubus, his sex drive was way higher than what a normal human can handle. One of the reasons why incubi’s never settle down for only one partner. In your case, you forced him to stay here with you, as if he was your personal pet. To be honest, he was just your plaything after all. The pretext of cleansing him of his sins? A dirty thing like him can’t be redeemed, you didn’t believe in such things anyway. Rather, accepting and repenting for one’s sins, and that is something he has to want for himself. The most you could do was prevent him from being even more sinful. That alone would be of great help, since otherwise he would seduce other people and make them succumb to Asmodeus too.

Today you were busy reading when he came up to you. You knew what he wanted, but this time you ignored it, there were other things to take care of. At first he just stood there, staring at you, wondering why you were so carried away. He took a few glances at your book, it was the bible in the Old Testament. No wonder you seemed busy, that one’s difficult to understand. This wont stop him from desiring you though, so he kneeled down and crawled under your table, slowly settling down between your legs.

“Y/nnn~ I’m so hungry, can we please do it?” Fyodor asked, looking up at you with those pretty scarlet eyes. “Not now, maybe later.” That’s weird, normally you always agreed. “Can’t you read that damn book later?” “This is not a ‘damn’ book, I have to concentrate so be quiet please.” You answered him, eyes never leaving the paper in front of you, scanning one line after another. He pouted, furrowing his brows as he thought about what to do. “But I’m really hungry.” The incubi complained again, though to no avail. How stubborn you were. Fine, if that’s what you want. “Never mind, I’ll find someone else then.”

Fyodor turned his head around, about to get up to leave when he felt your hand on his head. Before he got the chance to question you about it, you yanked on his hair and made him arch his back. Now you were towering over him, pulling his head back by his raven black locks. “MhmMM-ahHHNHgG..?!” He moaned out, unable to bite back a smirk. “I wont allow you to defile other innocent souls.” You told him harshly, without an ounce of concern. The gaze you bore was cold, and he felt a shiver run down his spine. It wasn’t due to fear though. His face was red, eyes foggy and expression melting, no matter what you’d do to him he’d take it with no hesitation.

“Haaah…” you sighed, feeling a little annoyed with him, then you commanded, “Go to the drawer there on the left and bring me the box in there.” He looked at you with confusion, but did it anyway. Getting up to get the box you wanted, then returning to his previous position. The demon watched with curiosity as you opened it. There were many sex toys in it, most of them have been used on him already. You reached for the things you needed, afterwards you put the rest away. Fyodor was still kneeling between your legs while you prepared everything, his body filled up with anticipation. He knows exactly what those toys do, god he wanted you to abuse him with them.

First thing you did was take the cockring and bring it to the base of his cock, it was to keep him obedient. You can’t have him squirting around his filthy essence. He squirmed when you grabbed him by the shaft as you used it on him, it looked so romantic~ That was all it took to get him hard. Then you pulled on his hair again, making him face your abdomen and dick. “Keep it in your mouth, you can’t move until I’m done, understood?” Instead of making him cockwarm you with his hole, you wanted him to use his mouth. It’s because he talks too much, you couldn’t think when he keeps babbling nonsense.

Just as you guessed, he happily took all of you inside his throat, gagging a little at the length. Forget about talking, he can barely breath with how deep it was in his throat. A bulge could be seen on his neck, right there where his Adam’s apple is. “Good boy.” You said, now stroking his head gently, as if he was really your pet. How he loved it, chocking on your dick like this, tears were on the verge of spilling. The reason why your fingers were still tangled with his locks was to prevent him from moving, since this was a punishment. That’s why every time he bobbed his head, intentionally or not, you’d force his face down further, until his nose hit your pelvis. Poor boy gagged and choked so prettily whenever you’d die that, letting out sweet moans akin to an angels singing,“guUHH..! Uh-hm,,.mHMmnGH..”

At first he was pretty enthusiastic about it, after ten minutes he got bored and needy. This only continued to the point he started crying. He was so desperate for any friction he could get, since he couldn’t even touch himself. Well, he could, but it’s not like he can cum anyways. Drool was running down his chin while tears rolled down his cheeks, leaving behind a shiny trail. His hands were bawled into fists while his tail wagged around like crazy. The look he had in his eyes were so hot, looking up at you all submissive while his pupils turned into hearts. Internally, fyodor was begging for you to finally pay attention to him, or finish reading that book soon. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold out.

This was pure torture, was what he thought after not 30 minutes, but an entire hour passed. His head felt light, and his body twitched everywhere. Just a single touch from you would cause him to yelp that’s how sensitive he became. Quiet sobs could be heard from him while melting expression plagued his features. You weren’t exactly done yet with your reading, but seeing how pitiful he looked, you just had to help him. Putting the bible aside and caressing his ruined face, “you’ve been pretty good for the past hour, want to have your meal now?” As soon as he heard that he started choking on it again, the surprise and excitement caused him to inhale too fast. Only difference was, this time you let him pull his head back. “AhHh..! Cough- uh-urGHh..ahh, ye-yes!! I want it, p- guUHH.. pleaseee..” Suddenly he started sobbing intensely again, he also stuck his tongue out after pleading with you so obediently. Right, such a good boy, it is time for him to get his blessing.

[monster-mash-m]

Parasite hybrid.

Cw: Nsfw mdni, yandere themes, murder, madturbation, body control, immortality?

Hear me out-

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

He’s one of the more… sapient parasites. Most parasites glint to their hosts, take over their bodies mindlessly to survive and then kill the host once done with their body.

Not him though, not Or-1-on or as you’ve grown accustomed to call him, Orion. His species of parasite is rare. Yet here he was. With you.

Unlike his parasitic families, Orion didn’t take over his host’s body, in a sense. Sure he could control your body if he wanted to. But he didn’t. He just often sat in the back of your mind. He liked your company and surprisingly… he liked yours. He was rather funny, although you’re pretty sure he’s just adapted his personality from you.

And at the moment you’re at your dead end job. One of your coworkers is being rude. Orion doesn’t like that of course, no one talks to his host like that.

‘Kill them’

You reply in your mind ‘no they don’t deserve death… maybe just a bad hair day though’. You resist the urge to giggle

‘They barged past you.’ He said ‘They deserve everyday to be a bad hair day…’

That was just one instance of Orion being overprotective. He always wanted what he believed was in your best interest.

‘Buy it. You like these.’ He hums out, his melodic voice echoing in your mind “Orion- I’m not buying anymore books, I’m just window shopping.” You reply outloud, when you’re home alone there’s no reason why you have to use your mind to respond. ‘But you like them.’ He protests, taking control of your arm on the mouse of your laptop, clicking the mouse, buying the book you’ve been looking at for far too long.

Orion is sweet, he really is. … he just has a hard time when people treat you poorly. He just couldn’t stand the fact that someone insulted you the other day, it’s been eating away at him. Of course he leaves your head at night, while you’re asleep. Asking one of his more… deadly parasite brothers to get in that person’s head. You notice them become more sickly as the weeks go on. Orion acting the part of a clueless friend.

Orion was unfortunately not much of a physical presence. His true body akin to a featureless clump or blob, almost like slime. Oh how he longed to hold you like a lover would. To run his hands over your soft curves like a lover would… to pleasure you like a lover would…

And oh there goes one of your hands as he lazily takes control of one of your arms. His control making your hand slip under your underwear, making you touch yourself for him. He could feel your pleasure, he liked that. He liked when you gasped for him, he liked how he could make you squirm without even touching you. He’d control small parts of your brain to make the pleasure seem oh so much more intense. Isn’t he just the sweetest.

‘Look at all that cum… you’re the first human host I’ve had you know… I’m glad it was you…’

He coos in your mind so adoringly, almost as if he was inlove, can parasites love?

‘I want to be with you… forever…’

All you could do is just gasp and let out your pretty moans for him as he controls your orgasms. Needless to say he never leaves you unsatisfied.

He will never let you go. Even when you start to age, he won’t allow that. Oh no no. He’s a parasite, he can’t live without his host. He will keep your body up and running, maybe even trying to find a way to make sure your soul can never leave him…

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

Idk why but I love this concept!

[islandofsages]

Hey ! I wanted to request a Ignihyde!Male!Reader that look like a little like Grim ? Like, they have the same ears and tail, the same fire (even if the reader controls his fire better than Grim) and people think they are from the same family/are connect ?

Just Grim and Reader looking at each other and asking to themselves if they have just meet their secret brother, and Ace, Deuce, Ortho, Idia and parental figure!Trein being confused to their friend (Grim for Adeuce, Reader for Ortho and Idia) having (a possible) brother.

(Ignore it if you don't want to write it)

Have a good day.

characters: ace, deuce, the shroud brothers and trein x male ignihyde reader

tags: platonic, fluff, imagines + scenario format; implication of yuu, mention of azul

warnings: nothing

author's notes: sorry this took a while! and that i strayed a bit again help. hope you like this <3

You’re one of the only beastmen in Ignihyde - and you’re okay with that. It gets a little lonely at times but that’s nothing new for an Ignihyde student. People mind their own business, you mind yours. And the only friends you have, in this case the Shroud brothers, basically forget that you’re different from the others. Days are hardly interesting, despite the college’s many atrocities - or maybe because, and now you’re desensitized.

Until one day, you spot a creature, all feline-like and sitting on someone’s shoulder. Okay, not the weirdest thing you’ve seen at NRC so far, so you’re about to shrug it off. Then you see it; a tail and a pair of ears that are eerily similar to your own. What’s next, it can manipulate fire as freely as you do?

“Hey guys, I’ve got a new trick up my sleeve. Watch this!”

One thing you didn’t expect for it to have something in common with you is that it can talk. Though maybe you should be less surprised, considering even the paintings on the walls can talk in this place. But still. You forget that you should be expecting something from the words it just spouted and are caught off guard when it starts spewing fire next. This creature is way too talented at throwing out stuff from its mouth, you think as you jump out of the way just in time to avoid being burnt to a crisp.

“Grim, you can’t just spit fire whenever you want to! We’ve been over this!”

A redheaded student in front of you starts to scold the creature whose name is Grim apparently. He looks familiar but you can’t quite put your finger on it-

“You’re just jealous, Ace.”

Oh, you feel like Idia’s talked about this Ace person before. He described him as “crafty” and seemed to think of him as some sneaky extrovert but you’ve learnt to not put much faith in Idia’s descriptions of other people. No offense to your friend but at least he’s somewhat self-aware of how anxious he gets around others.

“I definitely am not??? This is the same thing that almost got us expelled, you know!”

You feel like you may also have heard of a group of first years almost getting expelled until they somehow got their hands on a magestone the headmage told them to get, as if you can just swing by a store and buy one. You know how hopeless Headmage Crowley and dumping a lot of work on a bunch of freshmen is in character but you can't help but feel disappointed anyway.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but I agree. You really have to learn how to keep your pride in check…”

Another student, blue-haired and you assume is Ace’s friend, chimes in on the scolding. The student whose shoulder Grim has made himself at home only shook their head, most likely accustomed to his behavior. You watch them bicker as you ruminate on the resemblance of that strange creature to you.

After a few minutes of thinking (and walking so that you don't lose them), you decide that the fact that you were almost a victim of Grim’s flames is strong enough of an excuse to allow you to approach the friend group.

“Hey. You four.”

They turn around to notice you finally (though you can hardly blame them – save for Idia and his glow-in-the-dark-esque hair, Ignihyde students are not noticed as much). It takes them a second to realize that you're no ordinary student. When they do, their jaws fall open, letting out a wild “Huh?!”.

Grim himself jumps off the quiet student's shoulder and stands on his two feet. The day is getting crazier and crazier the longer you entertain this coincidence. He then points at you and begins his bullshit-spewing again.

“W-Who are you?! And why do you look like me?!”

You should be asking the same questions right now but the lack of answers for them makes any word on the tip of your tongue die before they can escape. Plus, the way he's saying his words sound more accusatory than you’d like to admit.

“Don’t look at me! I'm just like this!”

Grim doesn't seem satisfied by your answer and honestly, you can't blame him. You both are quite confused by what's happening at the moment. You two resort to unconsciously recreating the two-Spidermen-pointing-at-each-other meme. The other three students also seem to be at a loss from what they're witnessing.

Ace Trappola

He would laugh at Grim and point out how he's not special anymore but he's too stunned to even say anything (at least for now)

He looks you up and down again then pinches himself to make sure he’s not hallucinating

He feels like he should be less surprised and that the uncanny resemblance could just be passed off as a coincidence but he has to admit, seeing you two as not brothers may prove to be a little difficult for him

He gets used to you two over time and stops questioning it altogether. Sometimes he even forgets

At times, he’d poke fun at Grim and say how you two are way too different personality-wise to even be correlated in some way

But deep down, he’s happy for Grim he found someone similar to him 

He won’t say that aloud obviously.

Deuce Spade

His eyes dart from you to Grim then you again. This goes on for a minute

He almost asks you if you can also breathe fire so recklessly

He ends up interrogating you, like a parent doing a background check on the friend you just brought home

Sooner or later, he concludes that you two are “bros”, despite not having the same feline characteristics

He’s glad Grim found his long-lost brother (he gets a smack from Grim for this)

He would notice how Grim’s smiles oftentimes are wider when you’re around, probably feeling some kind of kinship with you

And he gets that - since you all are “bros” now, he’s more than willing to have your backs now

After sorting things out with the freshmen, you return to your cave like the nerd that you are, feeling more exhausted than usual. To your surprise, you also return to two nerds being in said cave. A Shroud brothers ambush is not something that happens too often.

“Hey (Y/N). We decided that your place needs trashing. Also Ortho wants to try out this new game he found but it needs at least three players.”

Sounds about right. The geeks are geeking out as usual, just at your place this time. But you need them to hear about how crazy today was. You open your mouth to say something-

“I tried to convince him to get Azul but you know how stubborn my brother is.”

Ortho cuts you off and you force a nervous chuckle as a response. You agree but you should really get this off your chest-

“Hm? Did you guys hear something~?”

Idia teases and it brings a genuine laugh out of you and Ortho. Then you take a deep breath and release it. Third time’s the charm, right? You try again.

“Listen, you two. You wouldn’t believe what happened today.”

They perk right up at the promise of gossip (specifically, gossip related to you). You jump a bit from the excitement, finally glad you got their attention. Your hands start to gesture while you tell today’s story.

“I found this… cat. His name is Grim? He has the exact same ears and tail that I do! And he can breathe fire too! Except he does it with no regards to his surroundings whatsoever. That’s kinda concerning.”

Idia Shroud

“You saw wittle Gwimmy??? Man, I’m so jealous… I’ve been in need of some cat therapy for a while now…”

By the sound of it, he already knows who he is. You gasp dramatically at this, feeling betrayed at the fact he never told you about him

He tells you to chill and simply excuse that he didn’t think it was that important or anything

Of course, at first he was shocked but then he pondered about the coincidence - concluded that weirder things have happened and can happen

You’re unamused by this but it is very Idia. You suppose if you have a curse where it burns blot in your body nothing can really be seen as weird

Still, he entertains the possibility of you having a non-human distant cousin

If he isn’t already so nerdy, it feels like he’s growing a second brain trying to theorize what your relation to Grim is…

Ortho Shroud

Also already knows who he is. This truly is a Shroud brothers ambush… of betrayal at that

Theatrics aside, you try to pry him for further information and maybe explain how you and Grim may be related

“Sorry (Y/N), I’d love to help but Grim has been avoiding both of us for a while now. Whether that’s intentional or not, I’m not sure, but I sure wish I was with you when you ran into him. I’m sure I could’ve gotten some valuable information from him!”

You have your doubts about that.

While you keep things to yourself, Ortho provides you with Grim’s surface level information - which is basically nothing

So you two vow to get closer to Grim; even with the ulterior motive, it doesn’t hurt to have more friends Idia would beg to differ

Grim-like traits aside, it’ll be eye-opening to him to see if you two are similar in any regard at all - whether it be from your healing presence to your dazzling smile.

The next morning, you walk to your first class of the day: History of Magic. A fairly interesting class regardless of your stance on the subject. Professor Trein goes on and on about something, you write things down in your notebook. Your eyes are on Lucius for half of the class too. Your mind is still stuck on the events of yesterday. You feel like you’d be reminded of Grim any time you lay your eyes on anything feline - including yourself.

At last, class is dismissed. As much as you enjoy the class and genuinely like Professor Trein, you can’t help but feel that classes are dragged out way too much in this college. You pack up your things and you leave around the same time the professor does. So when Grim comes running and tackles you to the hallway floor, he’s there to witness it all.

“Hey twin! Wanna have lunch with us later? You’ll be seating with us cool kids!”

As you try to regain your composure over being literally knocked over and the fact that Grim has already warmed up to you, Professor Trein attempts to comprehend the scene unfolding before him.

Mozus Trein

Yes, of course he needs to scold Grim over misbehaving for the umpteenth time that week, but he’s also in awe of how… similar you and Grim look.

If he’s seen either of you before, whether in vicinity of each other or not, he’s never noticed blame it on the old grandpa eyes

People (and creatures now too, accounting for Grim’s being here) of your traits and abilities are far and few between

As much as he’d like to inquire you two on your ancestries (and their possible connection), he does respect your privacy

He always liked having you in his class but now, he finds himself looking out for you more often, a way to put his energy from his curiosity about you into something else

He’d ask you about your day and jokingly ask how your relationship with your long-lost brother is doing as if he’s not acting like a dad himself

Needless to say, he’s definitely your favorite teacher now.

You accept Grim’s offer for whatever reason and have lunch with the “cool kids”. You feel a little out of place at first, hanging out with people who aren’t the Shrouds, but then you start having lunch with them every other day. Then you start visiting Ramshackle Dorm where Grim is staying and spend time with the others there. At some point, you brought the Shrouds along and they would bring their games.

Suddenly, you know a lot of people. You think to yourself how crazy friendships start. You go from not knowing their name to knowing what they named their pet rock when they were a child. And in Grim’s case, you went from pointing at each other confusingly to pointing at each other for stealing each other’s food.

For the record, he definitely stole your pudding first.

[lume-nosity]

‘i’ve got my eye on you.’

characters: xiao, kazuha, tighnari, cyno, heizou, albedo, wanderer/scaramouche, venti, gorou

style: fluff, but very fluffy & comfy

song inspo: yes to heaven by lana del ray

an: dear diary, tonight i’ve found out that i’m insane for writing all of the short men. or at least write them in a semi-acceptable way. AND I REACHED THE 10 LIMIT PICTURE BULLSHIT SO I HAD TO MESS UP MY USUAL FORMATTING MY APOLOGIES IF THINGS LOOK DISORGANIZED AAA

notes: not proofread, gender neutral reader, some crack, lowercase intended, most likely ooc in some parts, genuinely did not know what i was doing when i’ve written this, reader being a lil sassy in xiao’s portion, petnames: love, dearest, dove, muse, darling

xiao

“you could’ve gotten killed. why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“xiao, it was just a group of hilichurls.”

“it’s a group against one. they’d corner you and one of them will try to hurt you. the rest would follow suit.”

“well, what you said doesn’t matter anymore now that they’re all brutally slaughtered by you. they didn’t get the chance to do that.”

“…you really confuse me.”

xiao would lose it if someone or something laid one tiny little scratch on you. if it’s a serious injury bro will go ballistic.

if it’s a strong enemy, he’ll end their bloodline. if it’s a mere pigeon, get ready to have fowl for dinner.

him coming to you even though you didn’t call out his name was just pure coincidence.

he heard the sound of hilichurls so he followed the noises and there you were, getting surrounded by the hilichurls. his adrenaline kicked in.

he teleported to you and killed every single one of them swiftly.

he’s just worried about you, a little too worried for his own good. he can’t stand losing someone else, especially his partner.

so expect him to watch you from afar more often, to make sure you’re okay. he doesn’t have the intention of being creepy, he’s just your protector in the shadows.

he may not have experience in relationships, but he’s more than willing to learn by just being with you

kazuha

“my dove, you ought to be more mindful of your surroundings.”

“i know, i know, i was spacing out and i didn’t think i’d walk into someone. i was that clumsy.”

“it was just an accident, and i’m sure the recipient understands. it’s a common accident, so you don’t need to think about it often as it’ll be forgotten afterwards. now then, i believe it’s time you need some rest. allow me to carry you to our room.”

even though he acts so chill on the outside, deep down he’s actually more worried about you.

that someone you bumped into was actually a fatui agent.

you and kazuha were casually strolling the streets of liyue until you started spacing out and bumped into the fatui agent. effectively making you fall on your ass and a little dizzy from the impact.

the agent wasn’t too happy about it, so they tried to attack you. kazuha didn’t let that happen though, as he predicted that attack years ago and blocked them with his sword.

you heard weapons clashing for a few seconds until there was pure silence. you rubbed your eyes and looked up at a solemn-looking kazuha with his hand reaching out to you. (when you asked what happened he passed it off as nothing, he didn’t want to concern you)

kazuha kept note to always accompany you in your travels no matter where you choose to go.

tighnari

“you know you shouldn’t put your nose into things that are unfamiliar to you. especially items that may harm you. it astounds me how you’re this….”

“stupid? yeah”

“what? no, you’re not stupid.”

“then what?”

“you were unaware of the contents on the table and you’ve let your curiosity got the best of you. next time, let me know before you touch anything here, okay?”

tighnari would never and i mean never call you anything that would hurt you. sure, he can playfully tease you and be sassy with you, but not go as far to insult you. especially your knowledge.

he’s aware you’re smart in your own way, so he would never dream of insulting that. if someone were to insult you though, oh, he isn’t holding back.

about the item that you had the misfortune of peeking into, it was a sort of poison.

his ears flicker as he heard you coughing, and he rushes to you. dropping whatever he was doing at the moment to see you. it was a good thing he had an antidote on him for that poison, so he used it on you.

after you got back to your senses, he softly scolded you about ‘touching things that aren’t yours blah blah blah’

he didn’t leave your side that day and left his duties for collei to handle. nothing wrong with spending the rest of the day with your love, right?

cyno

“sorry you had to go out of your way to save me again…for the fifth time this week. it must be getting annoying.”

“no, it’s never annoying to protect someone you cherish. it doesn’t matter if the issue at hand was unimportant or severe. your safety is my priority. on the plus side, these eremites were the ones i was originally going after. so thanks to you, i can rest easy. now that you’re safe and the eremites had been dealt with.”

“hm, actually i was wondering, out of those five attempts, how do you always manage to find me in a pinch? it’s almost as if you always know whether or not i’m in trouble or something.”

“….i’m afraid that is a secret, my love.”

much like xiao, he too is a protector in the shadows.

every time he’a gotten word you’re taking a trip to the desert for errands or anything along those lines, he will watch you like a hawk

he just wants to be absolutely sure you’re safe, because you’re on the top of his list of priorities.

if by chance he sees you in trouble, he’ll quite literally pounce from the shadows to pursue justice on the perpetrators.

it’s a double win in his favor. (would most likely joke about that to you too)

heizou

“hey, are you alright?”

*you just waking up, regaining consciousness* “um, what happened?”

“oh, thank the archons, i thought you were a goner!”

“WHAT?”

“ah! right, let me explain. while we were out on a case to investigate on together, you got knocked out by some random treasurer! i for one am not in it for violence, but for your sake, i have beaten him up to a pulp and then called in someone to turn him in on our behalf. so now, you’ve just woken up.”

“….i did not understand a single thing you’ve just said.”

“hah, i believe it may be better that way.”

“why is that?”

“oh it’s nothing, it’s just a small occurrence that needed to be dealt with accordingly. anyways, now that you seem to be awake and well, shall we continue with our case, partner?

oh

my boy got away with murder /j

yes, he doesn’t like to resort to violence unless it had to come down to that.

but then again, for you? he’d fight the world with his bear fists

you guys are like partners in crime, so yes he’d go batshit crazy and panic if something were to happen to his beloved partner

would back out on a case that’s assigned to you both if it’s deemed to dangerous for you

even if you insist it’s fine, he wouldn’t buy that. because he loves you and doesn’t want to see you get injured, much like that encounter

most definitely flirts with you and input some pickup lines he has saved in his noggin. this may be irrelevant to the topic, but he’ll do this just to hide his worry for you

albedo

“dearest, please don’t go running out in the cold again without having any winter-appropriate gear. i don’t wish to have you catching a cold.”

“bedo’, i’m alright! look, i’m feeling just fine!” (you sniff your nose)

“*sigh* come inside, i’ll cook you some warm soup.”

“what about that experiment you told me you were working on for the past few weeks?”

“that’s the least of my worries. right now, i’m more focused on your health. that i will prioritize first before my experiment.”

albedo is willing to pause his week-long experiment to look after you, what a lad.

would postpone it for as long as it takes for you to recover from your cold

he probably studies your face

it’s all for good intentions btw (for science)

gives you everything you need. more blankets? more soup? him?

oh yes he will definitely give himself to you (in terms of attention)

if he is needed for meetings or anything he’d have sucrose stand in for him, because he’d rather spend time on you than a meaningless meeting

wanderer/scaramouche

“did you just-“

“ended them? sure as hell did.”

“you know you didn’t have to resort to extreme measures, right.”

“they had the audacity to belittle you in front of me. so i returned the gesture, tenfold.”

“okay but-“

“stop complaining, idiot. i did you a favor. next time, if you happen to find yourself in a situation like that again which i am certain it’ll happen, you should take notes from me.”

“wow, thanks for the advice.”

“my pleasure.”

love this asshat.

despite that rough exterior of his, that’s just his way of caring for you

spare him, he’s trying

he’s doing everything he can to show you he loves you despite it being a little challenging because he’s never experienced anything that involves being very close to humans

all his life he’s been resentful towards humans, but you’re the only one that stayed by his side.

which earned you a soft spot from him yippee!

he doesn’t admit it though, but that doesn’t stop him from loving you

venti

“oh dear, you look a little worse for wear. say, have you finished yet another round of errands for people again?”

“venti, it’s normal for me. and it was only a few! you have nothing to worry about.” (passes out from exhaustion but venti catches you)

“ah, it’s usually me you need to carry around should i have a little too much to drink. but alas, it’s my turn to return the favor.”

(whispers and runs his fingers through the strands of your hair) “you should lay off on that habit of yours, my muse..”

yes i find it canon that you’ll always carry him around whenever he’s haggard

he’s definitely clingy, i know this has been said about him multiple times but it seems we all mutually agree on this statement

the type to play you calming melodies with his lyre as your resting face relaxes.

as you’re snoozing the night away, venti is right next to you, playing soft and soothing melodies on his lyre to sooth your slumber.

never leaves the room, holds your hand while you’re asleep. he doesn’t want to leave your touch for the night.

gorou

“gorou.. what’s going on?”

“good morning, my love! i know you’ve just woken up from a good sleep but you must stay put in your bed for the day, because you need more time to revitalize yourself.”

“okay..wait. what about our comrades? the battle!? how long was i got knocked out for!?

“ah!- darling, shh…don’t worry! we had to retreat because we were clearly outnumbered and i was the one that called it. because after you got knocked out, and how the odds were against us at the time, i didn’t want you to get harmed in such a vulnerable state.”

“awww so even though you always long for victory, you called it quits just for me?”

“um- that’s!- oh fine, i’ll admit it. i was very worried about you during that battle, so i had to drop everything to carry you to one of our emergency shelters we have. and for that.. i chose to stick with you until you regain consciousness. her excellency allowed me to stay by your side, so it’s fine.”

“that’s… really sweet of you, it almost brings a tear to my eye”

“oh nonono don’t cry!!”

gorou, much like the rest of the workaholic smartasses here, would drop everything to spend time with you should you feel under the weather.

during your recovery, he’ll let you pet his ears and tail if it’ll entertain you/make you feel better

hear me out. when he tries to look after you during the night you’re resting, he flat out passes out next to you because of his exhaustion with his duties

which you can hear him snoring lightly, so you opened your eyes a little and pet his head with a smile on your face

[wovenintosilk]

Stubborn

Received a request through a reblog for something related to Miguel's fangs. It's not exactly focused on them but they're definitely part of it!

No Content Warnings

GN!Reader

Word Count: 1100

━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━

“Get your fingers away from my mouth. Are you a child?”

You pouted and withdrew your hand, thwarted in your attempts to sneakily lift the corner of your boyfriend’s lip. “I want to see them,” you defended. “They’re so nice to look.”

“If you’re that bored, I will find you something more productive to do,” he reminded you and twisted his face further from your reach. “I’m not in the habit of allowing people to lounge around my workspace for the fun of it.”

“Can my something productive be getting you to smile?”

“Absolutely not.”

You sighed and sank further into your chair, head tilted back to the ceiling you stared at far too much. “You said you would be finished with this by now.”

“It was a possibility but it required far more attention than I expected. It won’t be much longer.”

Miguel’s desire to be busy never surprised you. From the day you’d met him to the day you kissed him for the first time, you always understood why he obsessed in the way he did. It didn’t hurt you but you worried – more about his own health than anything else.

When was the last time he’d even eaten?

“You know, I actually do have a job to get done,” you said. “I’ll be back soon. Try not to get too big of a headache by scowling at that screen.”

“I know.”

The grumbled words didn’t help your concerns. You cast a glance over your shoulder in his direction. The harsh artificial lighting of his office highlighted how he hunched over his work, shone off his suit in a piercing way.

It really couldn’t be good for him to stand like that.

Your first stop took you over an hour to reach and you still didn’t doubt for one second that Miguel would still be working on your return. Though he cared little about food quality lately, you insisted on getting him something healthy and what you knew he would enjoy.

If it took you ages to find, you didn’t mind too much. You knew it wouldn’t impact on your plans going forward.

Around the side of Miguel’s office, a few wires connected just behind a broken section of the wall. You had to hold your breath to squeeze half into it in order to reach them.

“This is a very bad idea.”

You jumped, hit your head against the wall in your startle, and groaned in the unexpected pain. Lyla watched with a humoured smirk from where she’d appeared, projected out of your personal watch.

“It’ll be fine,” you said. “He won’t even know it was me.”

“He will,” she corrected. “But that’s not what I’m worried about. I know you can handle Miguel yourself but I think you shouldn’t play with electricity.”

“When you asked me to get him to take a break, you should have known I’d need to resort to some extreme measures.”

She sighed and waved a hand for you to continue. You squeezed your way further in so you could reach the wire that fed his office and a few of the surrounding halls. Hobie showed you it wouldn’t turn off the rest of the complex when he did it last time as a joke.

“I’ve already backed up everything he’s working on. If he throws you out, I take no responsibility for it.”

You grinned cut the wire. Everything plummeted into darkness around you, computers shut off loudly and the ever-present hum stopped. You grinned proudly and dropped your cutter back into its space before you headed to the office.

You realised one of the main problems when you walked through the doors and spotted him on his platform. The one that wouldn’t move now without electricity.

“Wow,” you said loudly. “Can you believe the timing of this?”

He turned slowly. The silence stretched thickly between you, your smile a match for his glare. Lyla was right, he knew exactly what had happened.

“Either you have to come down here or find a way to get me up there,” you called. “Because I can’t reach you otherwise.”

You held up the food right as a bright web attached to your chest. It pulled you forward and lifted you into the air as though you weighed nothing. It might not be the first time it had happened to you but you’d never really get used to the sensation of being dragged around.

He steadied you when you landed, his hand rested on your arm until you gained your balance back. His lip curled up ever so slightly as he waited.

“I brought food,” you said and sat down in your chair.

“What did you do?”

“Went a ridiculous distance to get this for you,” you noted. “Do you know how far this place is? And then I got back and the power disappeared. Had to walk here in the dark.”

“Do you know how busy I was? How much you may have gotten lost?”

“I’m sure Lyla managed to get it saved. You can take a break while she finds the fault.”

He loomed above you, leaned down and opened his mouth ever so slightly. Finally, you had an opportunity to see those massive fangs you loved so much. You loved his habit of using them to intimidate. He didn’t even do it purposefully.

“You can’t really be blaming me for the electricity,” you said.

“I’m not stupid.”

You finally placed the packet of food aside, reached up and grabbed the front of his suit so you could pull him closer. You used your free hand to cup his jaw, ran your thumb over his bottom lip. Those fangs really were beautiful. What you’d give to have them showing more often…

“I need you to take a break,” you said. “It might take a while to fix. You may as well give your body a small rest, okay?”

Before you let him go, you pressed a small kiss to the underside of his jaw. He leaned into the touch just enough to let you know you’d been somewhat forgiven for your meddling.

He took the food from you, muttered something about stubbornness, and listened as you spoke about everything you’d been waiting to tell him.

[mykneeshurt]

Sorry

Keegan Russ x F!reader

Warnings - minors DNI, 18+, explicit smut, angst

———

‘Are you FUCKING joking?’ You screamed as you threw your very expensive vase at the wall. Keegan ducked, his cat like reflexes once again barely managing to save him. ‘You’re such a fucking liar! Fuck you!’ You stormed over to him, pushing him in his broad chest. Pure unfiltered rage pumped through your veins as you stared at the man before you.

The man who told you he loved you.

The man who made you feel safe.

The man who you allowed yourself to love.

‘I’m sorry’ he whispered, eyes glazed, the steel blue of his irises contrasted with the blood shot white of his eyes. ‘You’re sorry?! You’re fucking sorry?! Keegan you lied to me for six months. I fucking fell for you and this whole time you were using me to spy on my father. I don’t think sorry quite cuts it. Do you?’ Your voice was venomous.

‘I didn’t mean for this to happen.’ You pushed him again. ‘What? Letting it get this far? Or falling for me in the first place?’ Every limb, every fibre of you was shaking. Your mouth was dry, your eyes hurt from crying, your heart shattered into jagged shards of glass.

‘I … uh’ he stuttered.

‘I … I …’ you mocked ‘fuck you Keegan. Get out.’ As you turned to walk away he grabbed your wrist, instantly you spun round, the palm of your hand making perfect contact with his cheek. ‘Don’t touch me. We’re done.’

‘No’ he muttered as he stood defiantly in your living room. ‘Fuck you mean no? Keegan, I don’t want to see you ever again. I never ever thought you’d hurt me. But here we are.’ Your voice was low, almost a whisper. Turning again he gripped your wrist, ‘please don’t make me go.’

Tears pricked your eyes, your tired swollen eyes. You sighed, still allowing him to keep a hold of you. Your lungs felt so tight, they strained to breathe. Your bottom lip quivered as you sighed into the empty living room. The living room where you had your first kiss, where you would play fight, where he held you when your father had a fall.

Yet it was all a lie.

‘Keegan … I can’t … please let me go’ murmured, voice straining from the emotion. ‘I can’t. I can’t let you go. You’re all I think about. You’re all I want. I’ve tasted you and I don’t want anyone else. I want this. I want you. I want us.’ There was a soft thud behind you. Turning round you saw him on his knees, brows furrowed, lips pressed together.

‘Get up Keegan’ you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. ‘I’ll beg if you want me to’ he said, eyes never faltering from yours.

‘I don’t want that. I want you to go.’ He slowly rose to his feet, still holding your wrist. He closed in on you, the warmth from his body permeated your tired bones. Even feeling so angry at him his presence still soothed you, still offered you safety. You hated your body for betraying you.

Looking up at him through tear stained lashes your heart ached, your stomach twisted and turned. An unwavering abyss of emotion coursed through your body. His face was contorted, twisted with pain. He raised a hand to your cheek, using his thumb to wipe away your tears. You leant into his touch, these hands had killed people, but to you they were your sanctuary.

‘Keegan’ you whispered, your rage now confusion. He lowered his lips to yours, hovering above them, ‘I’m sorry.’ Your lip quivered at his words, you believed him, reluctantly, but it didn’t absolve him from his lies. He gently pressed his lips to yours, now cradling your face with both hands. You sank into the kiss, your mind and heart fighting against one another.

Your hands found his waist, pulling him closer. Your mind screamed at you to stop, that you would regret it. But your heart told you to keep going, that you loved each other, that you needed to feel something other than rage.

That you need him.

Lifting his shirt slightly you grazed your hands along his skin, his soft, scar littered skin. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slowly worked with yours causing you to moan softly. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach, your head fuzzy.

Wrapping his arms around your waist he picked you up, walking you slowly to the sofa. His footsteps seemed to echo in the now silent apartment. Sitting down he kept you straddling his hips, his hands rubbing your back under your t-shirt. You placed your hands on his shoulders, his broad firm shoulders. Instinctively you rolled your hips, feeling his hard cock beneath his jeans.

He groaned into your lips, using his hands he pushed your hips down urging you to grind on him. Breaking the kiss you threw your head back as he kissed and nipped at your neck, ‘fuck I need you’ he whispered.

‘I fucking hate you’ you retorted, still grinding on him, your panties now soaking with arousal.

‘Liar. You want me.’

‘No, I wanna fuckin punch you.’

‘Stop lying’ he moaned as he pulled off your t-shirt and bra. He gently kissed your collar bone before holding your chin, forcing you to look at him. The silence between you was deafening, both trying to read each others faces.

Reigniting the kiss you pulled at his shirt, removing it he threw it behind him as he placed you on your back. He made fast work of your jeans before sliding a finger against your core. ‘Oh fuck’ he whimpered as he bit his lip. ‘Take em off’ you ordered arching your back.

Pulling them off he then made fast work of his own. You pulled him back into a kiss, this time it was desperate, sloppy. Lining himself up he pushed into you, ‘fuck’ you moaned breathlessly. As he began to move you wrapped your legs around him holding him against you. He buried his face in your neck, ‘feels so good baby’ he whispered.

Staining your skin with kisses your bodies moved together, each thrust of his cock filled you as his tip grazed that spot. You could feel his muscles tense with each movement, how each one rippled beneath his skin as he fucked you. Sweat began to gather between your bodies, your arousal dripping from your stretched out cunt.

‘Harder’ you panted, ‘harder … fuck.’ He upped his pace, slamming his cock into you, his pubic bone hitting your clit. He leant back onto his knees, holding you in place by your thighs. His fingers gripping onto you with a bruising force. You watched as he jaw fell slack, biting his lips as he hissed at the sight before him. You dropped a hand to your clit, your orgasm not coming fast enough.

‘That’s it’ he praised ‘look so good sweetheart, fuck.’ Burying your face in your arm you whimpered and moaned. ‘Don’t stop Keegan, oh god!’ Placing his forearms next to your head he dropped down, kissing your neck. ‘So fuckin beautiful’ he muttered, ‘you look so beautiful taking my cock.’ Eyes shut you smiled as you licked your lips, he always knew how to praise you.

‘M close’ you managed to say in between your moans. ‘Keep goin baby, lemme feel you.’ He cupped your jaw as he caressed his thumb over your bottom lip, urging you to lose your self. With one final strum against your clit you lost yourself. Your body seized as your cunt pulsated around him, his eyes glistened as he watched you. An expression of awe written over his features.

‘Eyes on me’ he ordered, doing as you were told you focused on him. Gripping your hips he upped his rhythm, chasing his own release. ‘Gonna fill you, gonna fill this pussy, fuuuck’ he moaned. Biting your lip you played with your breasts, tweaking your nipples, teasing him.

With a final thrust he threw his head back, releasing inside you. Hot ropes of cum lined your walls, his cock pulsated inside you as he rode out his high. He still slowly moved inside you, pushing and pulling, overstimulating you both. Torturing your aching bodies.

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, ‘can I stay?’ His voice hopeful. Cupping his face you kissed him deeply. ‘Yes. We’ll talk properly tomorrow.’

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Taglist (y’all showed interest on my Keegan post) - @horsdutemps @lundenloves @sarcanti @averythang @tiredmetalenthusiast @kosmokenny