#bacon scarf

[prettiestplatypus]

The meme is perfect for these two goofballs Credit to the original artist @row_anii on twitter for the original drawing

[meganechan05]

Happy Lesbian Visibility Week!

Yes, I had the lesbians kidnap and snowball the object of their affection 😂

[mikubilliards]

Your honor….long bacon….

[nickv47]

Fall is here and it’s time to get cozy! This maple glazed donut keeps toasty in his bacon print scarf! Links to my shops on nickvolkert.com!

[scoutingthetrooper]

I know the marshmallows are supposed to be snow, but they just look like snowman poop to me

[what-wait-why]

y'know, I'm so glad Voltron died before rizz became what it is now

[willowbyte]

:3

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 2

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt

A/N: This is a bit of a short update, but I wanted to get something out for the people that were asking for it! Enjoy 💕

-🐺-

You were embarrassed as soon as the realisation hit you, but by the time you’d had a decent rest and something to eat, you were feeling a lot more even footed. You were standing at the precipice of your new posting with anticipation, ready and waiting at the front door of Ghost’s house, eagerly listening out for him to come out of his room and take you to the new base. 

Ghost had knocked on your door earlier that morning just a little while after the sun had risen. He was still donning his skull balaclava and dressed similarly to the night before, though he had seemed to have changed sine. His eyes widened a fraction once he looked in and saw you, a flicker of surprise crossing what little you saw of his features when he saw you sitting awake on your freshly made bed. 

“Earlier riser. Not a nest builder then?” he’d noted.

You struggled to remember the last time you’d made a blanket nest, you could barely recall how to build one. That was one of the first things that’d been beaten straight out of you after being left at the barracks, leaving your ‘bed’ in any other state than bare with folded up sheets was an immediate punishment. 

“I’m not a child,” you muttered.

You were determined not to get emotional that day. Set against becoming the mushy tempered little pup you’d been the day before and instead behave like the soldier you were. That way, you figured, he might treat you the way he was supposed to as well. No more surprises, just business as usual.

However you were met with shock again when he’d led you away from bed and pointed at the table you’d sat at the night before. At what was apparently now your seat, there was a steaming  styrofoam box with bacon, eggs, toast and beans cooked to perfection and ready for you to eat. The scent was rolling through the air and rushing into your system, overwhelming you as you took an unsure stoop into your chair. 

“For me?” you asked, making sure to confirm before picking up the fork and knife laid out. 

“Yeah, Price ordered out for us. You’ve got a big day ahead, and he wants you on top form. And apparently I can’t be trusted to sort breakfast,” he said, scoffing at that last part. “Eat up and get ready. I’ll get you at the door in an hour.”

You breathed out a sigh, already not sure what to make of getting such a lavish breakfast, but there was nothing for it. If your new Captain had specifically requested you eat the feast in front of you, then you’d scarf down every last bit of it. Your stomach baulked at the idea of having so much in the morning when you were used to very little, but you ate it all while Ghost busied himself with the dishes from the night before behind you. Apparently he was intent on filling the air with a clattering clanging orchestra.

By the end of your meal, you’d figured that breakfast had to be one of the best you’d ever had, but with good food comes a heavy stomach and it turned you sluggish. It made for a struggle to find your motivation to go to the bathroom and get ready. However you bullied yourself into getting through it, your mental drill sergeant forcing you along until you ended up at the door fully dressed and in your usual black cargos and white T-shirt, tail swishing in anticipation for Ghost.

Your boots were still a bit damp from being in the rain all day before, but you were sure that with whatever Price had planned they’d be smelling like old cheese either way. It didn’t stop your nose wrinkling any less though. 

“Do you not have another pair of boots?” Ghost groused, looking you up and down while his heavy steps came thudding up to the door. 

He was all wrapped up in his big black jacket. He looked a lot warmer than you did standing there holding off the shakes, but you knew better than to complain. Plus your belly was full of meat and carbs so it helped your body fend off the morning chill. 

“We only get issued one set,” you said, looking down at your sodden feet, “I can try to clean them off a bit more, but I figured it would just waste time and make them wetter.”

“Well that’s changing today. You can’t walk around in wet shoes like that, we’re not in world war one,” he grunted. “What else do you need?”

You frowned at him, tilting your head at the question. Why would you need anything else?

“What else would I need?” you asked earnestly, hoping he wouldn’t get annoyed at the stupid question. 

“Your bag wasn’t very big and those clothes you were wearing last night were falling to bits. You’ve clearly been sewing them a lot, and not very well,” he laughed. “Tell me what you need and I’ll send for it.”

“I…” you tried to think of something, anything just to avoid looking like an idiot, but you couldn’t. “I’m sorry, I don’t know. I have all the things I’m required to have.”

Your ears folded down, your body was bracing and ready for him to shout at you, instincts winning over your pride. It was bad enough you weren’t able to answer his question, but you’d pretty much disagreed with him as well just by saying you had what you needed. A rookie move, you thought as you admonished yourself.

“Can I see what you brought with you?” Ghost asked, his voice so quiet under the muffling of his mask material. 

You bit your lip and nodded, still waiting for the roaring thunder of shouts to begin and start beating against the walls. Instead he just moved his body to the side and motioned for you to go back to your room. You were forced to pass by him, shrugging your shoulders into your neck in anticipation of a grab. Every little creak across the wood felt like a prelude to some larger sound or maybe even a smack, but you were shocked to find that none of what you imagined came to pass. 

Once you’d reached your little chest of drawers, you were worked up to hell. There was blood rushing fast in your ears, a river running through your head and you were having to hold your breath just to keep your chest from convulsing. Ghost wouldn’t have noticed your breathing anyway though, while you panicked and waited for him to finally show his anger, he opened your drawers and revealed the barren interiors inside, closing each one with a heavy thunk and a dissatisfied tisk.

“Really, pup, is this all you have?” Ghost sighed, ending his search at the last drawer.

It contained two other pairs of black cargos and your sweats that you’d been wearing the night before. You looked down at it with glassy eyes and then back at Ghost, still waiting for your scolding. Waiting for him to rise up from his crouch and tower over you again. 

“Three pairs of trousers, five T-shirts, underwear for the week, and a set of bedclothes,” you listed, trying to keep a hold of yourself. “Plus a sewing kit. That’s what the rules say we need to have. Is there a different regulation here, sir?”

Ghost put his head in his hands for a moment and you pursed your lips, readying yourself for an explosion. Your toes curled and your claws dug into your palms, every fibre of your body was poised for an attack that you had to let happen. There was no way you were going to start the morning off badly with defying your handler on your first official day afterall. 

“You should have more than this,” Ghost finally said, his voice an even rumble as always. “You’ve served for a long time, you should have some personal things, darlin’.”

Your fear was now turning to frustration. Now you were at a loss, you didn’t understand what he wanted. Why was he wasting so much time on this clothes issue when you were supposed to go meet Price? The last thing you wanted was for Price to be mad at your late arrival because Ghost was getting caught up on your clothes.  

“Have you been wearing your work clothes on day trips?” Ghost asked.

“On…what?”

“When you go off base,” he prodded, now standing up to his full height again. “What do you wear in your downtime?”

“I’ve only ever been off base for missions and off-site training,” you murmured, looking down at your dirty boots. “It’s just hybrids with permanent handlers that get taken out at Branhaven and no one ever wanted to have me until you and Price. Everything I have is in those drawers…apart from some bathroom stuff I put away in the sink cupboard, I made sure I kept it all out of the way of your things though.”

Ghost looked dumbstruck. It was a funny thing, even though you couldn’t see his face you could still tell so much about his expression through his eyes and body. And in that moment his eyes looked lost and his fists were clenched at his sides. You couldn’t figure out why that sentence was what he seemed the most angry at since that whole segue had started, but you couldn’t deny that there was something like a glint of murder in his face.

“Can we just go now, sir?” you asked, looking past his shoulder and hoping you could entice him to drop the whole stupid subject. “Won’t Captain Price be mad if I’m late?”

Ghost untensed his muscles and dropped his hands. 

“He won’t be mad, it’ll be fine,” he assured, putting a hand on your shoulder and making you jump. “Woah, easy darlin’. It’s ok. Don’t worry about all this, alright? I’ll talk to you about all this later, but for now you’re right, we should get heading. C’mon.”

You huffed out a sigh of relief when he turned and clutched at your chest for a second, thanking whatever spirit was around that you gave him an effective distraction. Though you dreaded to think the subject was going to be revisited. You were still going to be equally as clueless as to why he was so upset that you didn’t have more…stuff. 

You had no idea what that stuff was supposed to be or what you’d need it for when you had perfectly sufficient things that you could always repair whenever that was required. Anything else was just stupid, you were just a hybrid. What would you do with personal items or civilian clothes? It’s not like you were bursting with photos to frame or had any events to look nice for.

It was all so stupid! You put it out your mind and compartmentalised, following silently at Ghost's big back as he took wide strides across the smooth paving and over to his car. You never were good with remembering makes or what logos were what, but what you did know was that It was huge and black and practically gleaming it was so clean. It was clearly something that he took pride in. 

It made you purse your lips once inside, entirely mindful of how spotless his matching black leather interior was. It didn’t seem very conducive with wolf fur so you opted to grab your tail and hold it round your front once you were seated, hoping you could stop yourself from shedding all over the place and creating another uncomfortable conversation. Even though the angle hurt and needled at your old injury, you muscled through with gritted teeth, summoning all your strength for whatever lay ahead. 

Besides, you thought as the engine roared to life, the pain almost made up for the lack of punishment before. It put your head back into order. 

…

“Well well, look who finally decided to show up.”

You’d already gotten out of Ghost’s car with your heart in your throat after seeing you were ten minutes later than he’d said you needed to be. Now standing at the foot of the office, Price’s words had you wincing. You panicked and looked from the Captain sitting at his shaky old desk and then back up at Ghost in the doorway, internally cursing him for taking up your precious time with all of his nonsense about clothes.

“Somethin’ came up,” Ghost shrugged, settling one of his hands across your back and on your shoulder. “Fair warning - this one’ll have a heart attack if you pretend to get mad, so consider your next words carefully.”

Price raised his brows and looked straight at you then, smiling with that signature crinkly eyed grin of his. You remembered his face well, you’d always been thrown by how kind it looked when you’d gone away with him. You weren’t used to Captain’s like him, not accustomed to anyone giving you smiles and encouraging praise. 

At the start of the mission he’d made sure to emphasise he’d be looking out for you through his scope and had Gaz ready with a rifle if anyone had tried to intercept your tracking. Then after you’d returned home he’d made a point of taking you for a burger before he took you back to your base, even letting you sit in his warm truck and enjoy it properly. 

“Well we don’t want that, do we? C’mon, love, take a seat and we’ll go over some things before you go see the other two,” Price said, pointing to one of the chairs in front of him. 

You complied immediately, forgetting about your rush of memories, racing to sit down to a point you were almost sprinting to the chair. Price kept the smile on his face while Ghost sat beside you, both men sharing a look while you anxiously waited to hear what Price was going to say. You couldn’t help but fidget with your tail, digging your fingers deep into the wiry top layer of fur and into the soft tufts underneath. 

“Ghost filled me in on what happened yesterday,” Price said, brows lifting as he tilted his head down at you. “And we want you to know that’s not how we wanted to manage the transfer. So first off, I just want to make sure you’re doing ok. How do you feel about the new arrangement?”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. As much as you liked the Captian, you still didn’t expect him to mirror Ghost’s strange behaviour and ask about your feelings. He hadn’t said much to you before when you’d gone away with him, there weren’t any good markers to see if this was normal behaviour.

It all made you wonder if you’d been taken away to some kind of opposite land where hybrids seemed to mean something. Then again, you thought bitterly, perhaps this was all a test, just to see how you’d respond.

“Fine, sir,” you answered, fingers threading tighter through your tail. 

Ghost and Price shared another look. Price’s mouth quirked as if he had gathered something from the stare that Ghost gave him.  

“Ok…well that’s good. Do you have any questions for us? 

“No, sir. I’ll do whatever you ask of me, I’m ready,” you said, giving a little nod for emphasis. 

Price chuckled, but the smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes. You were sure you’d said something wrong, but if pressed to answer what that was…you wouldn’t know what to say. 

“I’m glad that you’re keen to get started, that’s a good sign. I’m not looking for you to dive right into working though, I want you to have questions and ask us things, so go ahead. You must have something you want to know.”

You sighed and looked down at your tail again, stomach feeling all the heavier after that breakfast. There were a lot of questions floating around your head, but every little piece of you was crying out to just shut up. 

Hybrids don’t ask questions, they follow orders. 

You had been told to ask your questions though. It would surely make him angrier to be denied, you reasoned to yourself. 

“Why me, sir?” You asked, looking up from your lap. 

“Why’d we want you on the team? I liked working with ya, you were quiet, efficient, had a keen focus as well. Simple as that really. We needed a hybrid and I thought you’d be a good fit with us.”

“A good fit, sir? Why?” You asked, curiosity getting the better of you. 

“Everyone on the taskforce is someone that I can count on. I’ve worked with each one of ‘em at various times in my career and I know that they’ll deliver every time I ask them to go out on the field. You did well on that mission you joined us on, and 

 when looked over your record after, I was impressed with your results to say the least. Makes you a great candidate for the 141.” 

“I’ve never had anyone mention anything good about my record before you both,” you muttered. “Are you sure they didn’t mix up the file handover, Captain?” 

Price shook his head and reached his hand across the table, warm skin enclosing over yours as he held his palm over the back of your hand. You felt your ears perk up in surprise. He was…touching you? And not for corrective reasons either! 

“I can assure you it was the right one, love. There wasn’t anything I saw on there that made me think you couldn’t do this job,” he said, giving your hand a quick pat before withdrawing again. “It ain’t all about staying out of trouble.”

You looked up at him and said nothing then, completely silenced by his thoughtful gesture. You’d gotten in plenty of trouble, that was for sure, but you only ever acted like a little shit with the assholes back on your base. Things were different now. You didn’t know how to orient yourself, didn’t know how to behave in your new circumstances.

Instinct said to ignore all the fluffy behaviour and just get through the day doing what you were told, but there was a tiny part of you that really wanted to believe that maybe the men in that room had your best interests at heart - maybe, just maybe this was the break you’d always secretly hoped for. Not that you gave that part of yourself much credence, its voice was too similar to that of the young pup that said that maybe your family would come back for you one day. Maybe they’d realise they made a mistake dropping you off and they’d let you come home again. Stupid stupid little wolf that you were to ever even have a notion like that. 

“Well, I’ll do my best regardless, Sir,” you smiled, hoping he’d move on and get the day going. 

“Good to hear. Do you have anything else you’d like to know before we get stuck in?” 

“No, sir,” you said a little too eagerly. 

He laughed at that. His chuckling low, deep and earthy as the cigar scent that permeated around him. There was something so naturally easy about Price, something that had you relaxing even while you wondered if you were going to get in trouble for not being interested enough to ask more. 

“Well, first things first, welcome to the 141. As you’re the first hybrid member, I expect there will be a learning curve for us all, so we’re going to be training hard over the next few weeks while we get used to each other. Ghost is the only one of us fully trained in hybrid handling, so all of us will be taking his lead while we learn to work properly together out on the field. You’ll be with Ghost for your first few missions, but after that initial few weeks pass you can be sent out with any of the team at any time. You’re not just getting sent on assignment anymore and you’re not dealing with the likes of your old base, you’re dealing with very intense work,” Price said, taking a sharp intake of breath as his tone changed. “You’re going to be out with us in all manner of terrains and situations, and oftentimes under heavy fire. We can be sent anywhere at anytime, and when a target is discovered we need to act quick. We deal with very prolific HVT’s and even in high stress, they need to be brought in safely for interrogation. All this is to say, you’re not expected to act like a mutt anymore, I don’t need that on my team. I want you to be sharp and take initiative, I will need you to communicate with us and to share your thoughts rather than blindly follow orders even when you know they’ll lead to trouble. Your perspective is valuable, you can hear better and sniff out danger that we can’t, so if you flag something then tell us. Do you think you can do that?” 

You raised your brows, head heating in malfunction, not at all ready for the big speech your new captain had imparted on you. Learning to act like a ‘mutt’ was the only thing that had ever been drilled into you. It was the reason you’d been met with so much trouble at the beginning of your career, the main reason your original handlers had encouraged the others to beat you that little bit harder and to make your life more miserable than the rest. You’d been shoved into submission all your life and told to shut the fuck up and do as you were told, you’d never ever been told your perspective was valuable.

You weren’t even given a mic to communicate with out on the field when you started, you were just supposed to follow orders as they came to you. You’d learned ever since then not to speak unless asked.

“Not to question you, but…just to clarify. You’re telling me you want me to go against orders, sir?”

“Well for example… I tell you to walk into a building and you can smell that it’s riddled with explosives, then yes. I expect you to raise the alarm when the situation calls for it. I don’t need a hybrid that’s going to go out and get themselves killed just to please me, I need someone that can get the job done and help get everyone back safe. Lives and mission success are more important than ego to me everytime, you will never be punished for acting in the interest of the team, which now includes you. Understand?”

“So just to get this clear, you’re giving me blanket permission to talk on comms - to give my opinion to you whenever I have one?” you asked incredulously. 

“Precisely. This should help with that,” he smiled, pulling something from out of the groaning top drawer of his desk and sliding it across to you. 

You reached out and accepted it, holding the strip of dark leather between your fingers and admiring how smooth and thick it felt, how high quality it was. Not missing the numbers 141, that were stamped into its side. It was a new collar. Outfitted with a built in mic and specialised remote lock, one that could be unlocked if it became snagged or got you into trouble in a fight. You were pretty sure it had a longer tracking range than standard collars too, and even came with a shiny D ring for tags. This was the kind of thing that hybrids wore when they were prized by their teams, owned by the sort of people that actually cared if you came back to them. 

“Is this really for me?” you asked sceptically, taking a hand off of the new collar and touching the one already round your neck, sliding a finger over the bruised skin at its rough sides. 

“Course it is. We can have it changed or altered if you’re not happy with it,” Price noted, watching your reaction carefully. 

“It’s perfect as is, best bit of kit I’ve ever gotten” you said quickly, running your fingers all the way down the bumpy stitching. “Thank you, sir.”

“Shall we get this thing off then?” Ghost said, speaking up from his place next to you. 

You looked over at him and followed his eyeline realising what he meant, touching your old collar once again. You didn’t need convincing. You nodded and tipped your head forward, letting him access the buckle at the back before unclipping and letting it loose, leaving you unmarked to the world for a minute, just another hybrid without a claim.

It was weird being bared like that, honestly you felt like he’d taken off your shirt or your trousers. You always wore your collar, and now that it was off you felt little better than a worm on a bait hook, wriggling uncomfortably at the sensation of air on your bare flesh. 

Order was restored when Ghost took your new collar and wrapped it around you, clicking it into place with a cheerful clink from the new locking mechanism. You sighed and let out the tension in your muscles, closing your eyes a second before straightening up and looking at Price and Ghost, checking over their satisfied faces. 

“Good to have you officially on the team, pup,” Ghost said with what was surely a grin. “Just need to put your tags on.” 

He took your ID tag from your old collar and slotted it on to the D ring at the front of your neck, then produced a handler tag from his pocket, letting you see it while he fiddled with the tag already round your neck. You took it in your hands and thumbed over the bumpy metal letters and rubber edges, tilting your head as you looked it over. 

LT Ghost

#09-2022

141

You’d always had the base information on your team tag, or had to wear a temporary one when you were sent on long deployments assigned to work with other teams. Even then you’d always get a building ID or some other number that would link you back with some office somewhere. You'd never worn someone else's name around your neck before, but now you were going to be linked to Ghost for the rest of your days. If anyone found you and reported your handler’s number to the relevant authorities they’d get a direct line to him. 

For a man that hadn’t even revealed his face to you, he was incredibly willing to hang such a big responsibility around your neck. You bit your lip and watched as he took the tag from you, fixing it in place behind your ID tag. His heavy breaths were escaping from behind his balaclava for a moment, he was in deep concentration trying to manouver the little tag with his huge hands. You grinned when you heard him swear at it.

“There, you’re stuck with me now,” he said matter of factly, giving the tags a playful tug when he was done. “How’s the collar feel? Not too tight?”

“It’s good, sir,” you shrugged, still marvelling that he was willing to take you on. “Feels a lot better than the old one.”

“That’s cause this,” he grunted, throwing your old collar into Price’s wastebin. “Was a piece of shit.”

You snorted out a laugh and watched as it disappeared into a mass of paper, going deep down to its crinkly death. You couldn’t disagree. It had been rough and frayed either age for far too long and they’d used it to grab you and haul you around like a hay bale for even longer. This new collar, was much smoother an….

d far more pleasant on your neck.

“It suits you,” Price smiled. “I know you’ll be a great addition to the team…that said, are you ready to go meet Gaz and Soap?”

[callsign-datura]

konig who eats A TON to maintain his weight x reader who loves to cook for him but hardly eats?? so cutee omg

You Want The Rest?

pairing: konig x reader

You were both sitting at the table in your shared apartment. He wasn't in uniform. He was sitting with a plate in front of him, piled pretty damn high with eggs and bacon. You always made more for your favorite boy because, well, he was a big guy. A tall ass guy with a good bit of muscle and a bit of belly pudge. He always ate a lot to maintain his weight and you knew this; so you did a lot of cooking and packing non-perishable lunches for him while he was off away on a job. He shifted in his seat and scarfed down what you'd made him, and you were picking at your own food as you scrolled aimlessly on your phone.

He chewed the bite he'd just taken, swallowing as his eyes went up to yours and he leaned over to look at what you were looking at on your phone, taking the last bite of his food as his gaze caught a video of a cat you scrolled by. His eyebrows knit together and he reached out with his other hand, scrolling back up with his thumb so he could watch the cat video. You chuckled a little and shifted so you sat beside him instead of across from him, bringing your plate with you and setting your phone down so he could watch while you finally took a bite of your eggs. You watched him as he watched the video of the cat rolling around and eating catnip, his eyes practically sparkling. You chuckled again and put your chin on your hand, your gaze going back to the phone.

"Cat in German is... Katze, right?"

His eyes went up to you and he smiled, nodding a few times. "Yes, yes, very good." His gaze immediately went back to the phone and he kept watching, somewhat mesmerized by the cute kitty. "You gained any weight since you last checked?" You asked, feeling slightly bad for getting his attention again, but you wanted to know if he was making any progress towards his ideal weight.

His gaze flickered around the phone for a few seconds and he answered in a quiet tone. "No... lost weight. 210 last week."

You frowned a little and glanced back at your plate, then you pushed it towards him. "You want the rest of this?" He looked at the plate, then you, and he smiled. "Schatz," He leaned over and kissed your forehead, petting your hair before eating the rest of the food left on your plate. He took your plate and his own, getting up and going to wash them in the sink. You watched him and crossed your arms, turning your phone off. "You want me to make something special for dinner?" He hummed as he washed the plates. "Whatever you want... but can you make more of those protein peanut butter cookies?" He asked, looking back at you and smiling a bit. "Yeah, of course," you answered quickly, smiling all big at him as you put your phone in your pocket and went to his side, kissing his shoulder once and then taking the plates he washed and drying them off before putting them away. Yeah... you'd definitely make those cookies for him.

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

corrupt!Satoru refuses to let go of his little sorcerer girlfriend when he becomes a vessel: Sure things have changed a bit.. Okay, a fucking lot. He's been put on a temporary leave by Yuji and the others till they can figure out a reverse. Which unfortunately for you means he's got all that time in the world to focus on your guy's relationship. "Y/n!" The unanticipated shout of your name almost makes you jump out your fuckin skin, quickly scarfing down a scolding hot piece of bacon so you don't choke. Dammit, you thought you could enjoy a nibble of breakfast before having to appease your master boyfriend. You pray to any God with a heart that Satoru wasn't too pissed at you for not being by his side when he awoke. From the goosebumps creeping down your neck and eerily sudden silence surrounding you, it's an obvious useless hopeless wish. "Why the fuck weren't you next to me when I woke up? Did I not say havin you by my side at all time keeps me from becoming.. Murderous?" The sudden presence and growled query compels you to spin around, starin up at him with wide frightened eyes. He's shirtless, gazing back with an unreadable expression as his magnificent morning wood bulges obscenely. "T-toru, I -" His hand damn near teleports to hold you firm around your slender brown neck. "Know what? I don't really feel like hearin whatever pathetic excuse is about to fall from those cute lips, baby. On your knees." He tells you, pushin you down with one hand while pullin his dick from his dark grey joggers with the other. You comply, eyes teary at how he glares down at you menacingly. "Better not disappoint me twice this morning, y/n. No tellin what I might do.." He warns, head falling back as he slips his dick into your mouth with a sinister smile on his pretty face.

corrupt!Gojo monitors the fuck outta who you talk to and where you go: If he can't have you near him 24/7, he NEEDS to know 1. Where you're goin; 2. Who's gonna be there; and 3. When the fuck you're comin home to him. "You're late. Fuck are you, little girl?" You're never gonna get used to the snarl that consistently stains his tone, even when he's not irritated. You're late coming back from what was supposed to be research on a curse, so Satoru calls you. "Just by a few minutes. I'll be there soon." You assure him, pullin your cell from your cheek briefly to check the time. "I didn't ask how late you are; I asked where you were." You don't waste a second droppin a pin. There's a bit of shuffling over the phone before he speaks again. "I'm on my way to pick you up. Stay where you are. Better be alone like you said, y/n." The line clicks dead as you heave a heavy sigh, makin sure not move an inch till you see Satoru pull up.

corrupt!Satoru doesn't do well with anyone besides himself being mean to you: Slamming your front door shut upon entering, you stomp towards your bedroom as tears of frustration leak from your eyes. You don't make it past the couch in the living room before Satoru's sittin down on it, perching you in his lap. "Who fuckin did it, baby? Huh? Tell me! I'll rip their fuckin head off." His gruesome words don't match the soft imploring look in his piercing eyes; you miss that look so much that the truth spills from your lips without a thought. "I thought I'd make it to Grade 2 today.. It didn't happen. They brought in someone new. Some jerk that failed me cause I wouldn't let him touch me." Your hands slap over your mouth, the last sentence accidentally comin out before you can think. That unreadable expression graces his features before you end up face down in the couch, panties swiftly pulled to your thighs as he eats your poor unsuspecting lil puss from the back. "What the fuuuuuck? Toru, ah! S-satoru, wait. Please just- ohmyGod!" Ofcourse he ignores you. Slurps ya cunt so good that you cum in under a minute. Only then do you get a response. "Get the fuck up. We're goin back up there. Gonna have a lil chat with Mr. New Guy." He commands you, landing one more lick up your slit and a harsh slap to your ass. You leveled up that day. And Mr. New Guy was gone by the next. Yuji and the others don't bother standing in Satoru's way.

corrupt!Satoru loves marking your body and staking his claim: He doesn't think a day should pass before he's adding a new one to the collection. So he corners you when you're in the kitchen doin the dishes. "Hey gorgeous. Wanna make you cum real quick.." He mumbles, pressin up behind you. His hard cock humps your backside slow and firm as he fingers you through your itty bitty shorts. The first swipe has you poppin your ass back on his dick, keening Satoru's name like a fuckin banshee. "That the spot, princess? Yeah it is.. Know all your spots. Just like Daddy should, huh?" His tone is so cocky but you know better than to disagree and nod to his question anyway. "Yeeees, only you can make me feel like this. Always make me feel so goood, Toru." He soaks in your praise and at this point it's a givin that you've completely abandoned your task. A damp hand slides to the back of his head for a handful of his soft snowy locks as he nips and sucks at your neck. His sensual lips are one of your weaknesses; never fail to make you whimper like a bitch in heat. "Satoruuuuu.. Daddy please. Want some dick.." He chuckles at you, wonderin if you can even handle it- not like that would stop him. Still, your knees are already so you weak he has to hold you up, arms slung around your waist to plaster your back to his front. "Fuck baby, so pretty when you beg for my cock. Look even prettier when you let me claim you like this." Fine, he'll give you what you want. But first.. He pulls his lengthy dick out, your small shorts down, and slips it between your plushy brown ass cheeks. Your boyfriend's eyes nearly cross at the tight warm hold of you. Satoru pants and huffs, quickly starting off with short strokes that numb his mind. "I'm gonna fuck this perfect fat ass one day, y/n. Thats right, and you're not gonna be able to stop me. You can beg and cry and scream all you want.. Mmmfuck- but Daddy's not gonna listen, baby. Not one bit. I'm gonna keep goin till you squirt all over me from the feelin of it." Precum assists him slidin back and forth with ease, but his filthy words aid the throbbing in your clit and flutter in your gushy cunt. You only moan back in response to his dirty admission. Its okay. Satoru knows you always get like this: speechless when you're about to cum. Goddamn you turn him on so fuckin much. He bites at the sensitive spot on your throat, locking his teeth and groaning like a wild man. It makes you clench around his dick, him in turn pressin his digits with an accuracy that forces you to cum so good. "Good fuckin giiiirl, baby! So proud of you. Takin my mark and cummin on my hand- fuuuuuck. I own you, princess." Your quick wordless whines spur him on, fingers still yanking his hair viciously as your arousal spills to the kitchen floor. The sting of the pull has Satoru howling while he cums buckets in you. He's licking messily at the fresh bite on your neck as he smears his nut all over your plump ass. Fuck, you always make him buss so fuckin so hard! He's breathing fast, eyes flickin between where he paints you, your new bite mark and how fucked out you look even though you haven't had his dick yet. Speaking of, why the hell is he still so goddamn rigid? But you.. "You're so fuckin wet.." Satoru spears you on his cock without a second thought, your loud stunned cry makin a warmth shoot up his spine. He doesn't know when your hand joined the other in his hair, just cherishes how tight you grip at him when he fucks the rest of his cock into you. Appreciates and adores any and everything you have to offer. 'Shit.. Guess its time to put a baby in you.' Satoru thinks as he holds you round your waist and drills your lil puss as you shout out in surprised pleasure. Christ, he loves you so fuckin much and he's never letting you go.

corrupt!Satoru In layman's terms: He shows you that he is very fuckin possesive and owns you in every conceivable way.

[ichorai]

broken machine ; miles morales.

track four of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; miles morales x mutant!gn!reader

synopsis ; stuck in a time loop, miles had to witness the one thing that he dreaded the most in life over and over again: your death.

words ; 5.1k

themes ; angst, action, mild fluff, mutant au, time loop au, established relationship au

warnings / includes ; repeated major character death, descriptions of injury/blood, cursing, two brief mentions of sex, wolverine & omega red & doctor strange cameos, mentions of x-men & daredevil & wong, set in an alternature universe from the mcu, miles throws up at one point, one (1) reference to spider-man: nwh wink wonk, miles' parents are adorable and i love them

main masterlist.

NOVEMBER SEVEN — TAKE ONE.

Three knocks to his door, in rapid succession. 

“Miles,” barked his dad. “Up and at ‘em, kid!” 

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Miles groaned into his pillow, propping himself up with his elbow and glaring at the closed door. 

Outside, a car honked. A plump pigeon hooted by his windowsill. The sun beamed directly into his narrowed eyes. 

With a muffled yawn, Miles swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He could smell his mom making breakfast quesadillas from the kitchen. 

The day droned on like any other. He brushed his teeth and washed his face, shrugged on the same black hoodie he wore yesterday, snatched a quesadilla from the plate—nearly burning his fingers in doing so, much to his mom’s dismay, and kissed her cheek apologetically when she scolded him for not taking out the trash like she’d asked the day before. His dad was scarfing down the steaming quesadillas by the small kitchen table, eyes scanning over the day’s newspaper. 

“All these so-called ‘heroes’… and yet crime rates are as high as ever. What a joke.” Jefferson pulled a scowl, reading on about the newest debacle with X-Men and mutants in court. 

Miles could feel his stomach twist at his dad’s words, but he pushed it down.

“Miles, come sit down and eat,” said his mom, urging him to the table.

With an apologetic grimace, Miles replied, “Sorry, ma, I gotta meet Y/N at the diner—I promised breakfast with them today. I’ll be back before dinner, okay?” 

“Alright, mijo. I want you back before the sun sets—I don’t want you out and about during the night now,” she huffed, straightening the lopsided collar of his hoodie. “Tell Y/N I said hi. Remember what I told you, Miles—use protection. And don’t forget to take out the trash!”

“Okay, okay, Jeez, mom!” blurted Miles, clearly flustered at the prospect of his mom giving him yet another sex talk. He was already pulling on his shoes and waving goodbye to his dad, who muffled out something unintelligible around a mouthful of his breakfast. Just before he was about to stride out, he remembered to grab the bags of trash and toss them into the bins outside, before hurrying down the street to the diner. 

Knowing you, you were probably already waiting at the diner, halfway done with your milkshake.

Correction, you were well into your second milkshake by the time Miles jogged in.

“You’re late,” you told him, a fond smile on your face. “I ordered for you.”

“Bacon cheeseburger with a side of curly fries? Lemonade with extra ice?” Miles asked, sliding into the seat across from you, the sticky red leather of the booth making him grimace.

You cocked your head at him. “Yup. Extra ketchup on the side, too.”

“See, that’s just telling me we spend too much time together,” said Miles, affectionately kicking at your feet beneath the table. 

Scoffing, you popped a curly fry into your mouth. “You wouldn’t last two seconds without me.”

Before Miles could fit in a scathing remark, a loud crashing resounded from far outside the diner, followed by distant screams. Both you and Miles exchanged worried glances, peering out of the window to see civilians frantically running down the street. 

“Got your suit?” you asked quietly. You had yours on underneath your sweater already, since you had planned to go training with Daredevil after breakfast.

Miles bobbed his head, the light-hearted atmosphere disappearing in an instant. “In my bag. I’ll meet you there?” 

You nodded. “I don’t know what it could be this time—whatever it is, it doesn’t look pretty. Stay safe, Miles.” 

With that, you slid out of your booth, planting a quick kiss to his cheek, before dashing out of the restaurant, running against the current of the panicked crowd. Squaring his jaw, Miles darted into the diner’s bathroom, hurriedly changing into the suit May Parker had gifted him, and hopped right out the small, rectangular window. 

The fight was about two blocks from the diner. He swung down onto a streetlamp, eyes widening when he caught sight of a bloodied Wolverine pinned against the asphalt—Omega Red not too far from him, his carbonadium coils wrapped around Logan’s biceps and neck. 

Wolverine let out a growl, his adamantium claws slashing out, but not long enough to reach his attacker. 

Miles shot a web out to get closer. Though he wasn’t all that close to the infamous Wolverine, Miles knew he was a halfway decent guy, and deserved a bit of help. 

Mid-air, he blasted web fluid straight into Omega Red’s eyes, blinding him momentarily. Furious, the large man roared out an expletive, letting go of Wolverine in shock and scratching the sticky webs away from his face with one fluid motion, before rounding his angry crimson gaze at Miles. One of the metal tentacles shot out in his direction, but before it could reach him, you came barreling forward out of nowhere, a purple blade of energy stemming from your clenched fist. 

“No, kid, wait—!” gruffed Wolverine, a warning about Omega’s death spores just on the tip of his tongue.

It was too late.

Omega Red chuckled darkly as your blade of energy sunk into his abdomen with a sickly squelch. To Miles’ horror, he seemed practically unfazed by this. You snarled up at him when he wrapped one of his burly hands around your neck, the other coming up to lay over your skull. Miles scrambled forward, shouting your name, but Wolverine held him away, frantically telling him to stay back—something about deadly pheromones.

But Miles wasn’t listening. All he could see was you, and the final second of your expression shifting from determined rage, to raw fear.

A misty fog began surrounding Omega Red—his death spores. Your eyelids fluttered and you fell limp in his grasp. He was feeding off of your life energy. 

A sick crack of bone as he effortlessly crushed your head in his palm.

A raw, blood-curdling scream tore from Miles’ lungs.

Wolverine wouldn't let him go.

And then, it all went black.

NOVEMBER SEVEN — TAKE TWO.

Three knocks to his door, in rapid succession. 

“Miles,” the muffled voice of his dad drifted from beneath the doorway. “Up and at ‘em, kid!” 

Outside, a car honked. A plump pigeon hooted by his windowsill. The sun beamed directly into his narrowed eyes. 

He immediately sat up on his bed, breathing heavy and labored. A tear fell down his cheek and Miles hurriedly wiped it away with the back of his palm.

“What the…?” he muttered beneath his breath, glancing at his phone to see that it was November seventh. 

Huh. So it must’ve all been a dream. Wolverine, that weird metal-tentacle dude, you dying…

It was all a dream.

Huffing out a sigh of relief, Miles swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He could smell his mom making breakfast quesadillas from the kitchen. Funny, his dream-mom had made quesadillas as well.

The day droned on like any other. He brushed his teeth and washed his face, shrugged on the same black hoodie he wore yesterday, snatched a quesadilla from the plate—nearly burning his fingers in doing so, much to his mom’s dismay.

“Miles, I told you to take out the trash!” she scolded, crossing her arms expectantly.

For a second, Miles froze. This was… eerily similar to his dream.

Realizing that he had yet to reply, Miles hastily choked out, “Sorry, ma. I’ll take it out when I leave.”

“Where are you going?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“Diner. Meeting Y/N there for breakfast,” Miles responded. “I’ll be back before dinner, okay?”

From the small kitchen table, his dad glanced away from the day’s newspaper. “All these so-called ‘heroes’… and yet crime rates are as high as ever. What a joke.” Jefferson pulled a scowl, before reading on about the newest debacle with X-Men and mutants in court.

Huh. Miles could swear his dad said the exact same thing in his dream…

“Alright, mijo. I want you back before the sun sets—I don’t want you out and about during the night now,” she huffed, coming forward to straighten the lopsided collar of his hoodie. “Tell Y/N I said hi. Remember what I told you, Miles—use protection. And don’t forget to take out the trash!”

“Alright, alright, Jeez, mom!” blurted Miles, flustered at the prospect of his mom giving him yet another sex talk. He was already pulling on his shoes and waving goodbye to his dad, who muffled out something unintelligible around a mouthful of his breakfast. Just before he was about to stride out, he remembered to grab the bags of trash and toss them into the bins outside, before hurrying down the street to the diner.

“You’re late,” you told him, a fond smile on your face. Cupped in your hands was your second milkshake, already half-empty. “I ordered for you.”

“Thanks,” said Miles as he slid into the seat across from you, the sticky red leather of the booth making him grimace. “Hey, something really weird happened this morning. It’s like—deja vu, but in my dream? Like everything I saw in my dream felt weirdly real and then when I woke up, the exact same things started to happen—”

Before he could continue explaining, a loud crashing resounded from far outside the diner, followed by distant screams. Both you and Miles exchanged worried glances, peering out of the window to see civilians frantically running.

This happened in my dream! thought Miles. Unless… unless it wasn’t a dream…

“Got your suit?” you asked quietly. You had yours on underneath your sweater already, since you had planned to go training with Daredevil after breakfast.

Miles opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water.

You blinked at him, miffed. “Miles? We gotta go help them.”

Head feeling stuffed full with cotton, Miles bobbed his head hesitantly. “It’s, uh, it’s in my bag. I’ll meet you there?” 

You nodded. “I don’t know what it could be this time—whatever it is, it doesn’t look pretty. Stay safe, Miles.” 

With that, you slid out of your booth, planting a quick kiss to his cheek, before dashing out of the restaurant before he could even begin to think to stop you, running against the current of the panicked crowd. Squaring his jaw, Miles blew out a deep exhale and ran into the diner’s bathroom, hurriedly changing into the suit May Parker had gifted him, and hopped right out the small, rectangular window. 

As soon as Miles saw Wolverine and Omega Red a couple blocks down the diner, he knew whatever he had seen in his quote-unquote ‘dream’ hadn’t actually been a dream. Maybe he was in an alternate dimension? Or could it have been time travel of some sorts?

Whatever it was, Miles had to find you.

He swung down onto the road, ready to stop you from getting too close to Omega Red. Swiftly, he shot out web fluid straight into Omega Red’s eyes, blinding him momentarily. Furious, the large man roared out an expletive, letting go of Wolverine in shock and scratching the sticky webs away from his face with one fluid motion, before rounding his angry crimson gaze at Miles.

One of the metal tentacles shot out in his direction, but before it could reach him, you came barreling forward out of nowhere, a purple blade of energy stemming from your clenched fist. 

“No, kid, wait—!” gruffed Wolverine, a warning about Omega’s death spores just on the tip of his tongue.

Prepared, Miles pushed you out of the way, frantically yelling out, “Stay back, he’s got killer pheromones!”

But it was too late.

The long, spindly carbonadium cords darted forward and snaked around both of your ankles, sweeping you off your feet and dangling you upside down in a matter of seconds. Desperately, you tried to hack away at the metal with your energy blades. The determined snarl on your face began to wane into one of fear when it proved to be fruitless.

Omega Red grinned manically, eyeing you like a wolf would a hare. 

A misty fog began surrounding Omega Red—his death spores. Your eyelids fluttered and you fell limp in his grasp. He was feeding off of your life energy.

Miles yelled out your name, but Wolverine held him back, telling him it was for his own safety. 

“They’re long gone, kid,” the X-Man gruffed, grip unrelenting. “I’m sorry.”

A raw, blood-curdling scream tore from Miles’ lungs.

“Let me go!” he cried. It wasn’t a dream. None of this was a dream—it couldn’t be.

Wolverine wouldn't let him go, no matter how much Miles struggled.

And then, it all went black.

NOVEMBER SEVEN — TAKE THREE.

Three knocks to his door, in rapid succession. 

“Miles,” said his dad from the other side of the closed door. “Up and at ‘em, kid!” 

He shot up from the bed, breathing ragged. 

Miles swiped at his watery eyes, burying his face into his palms. If that hadn’t been a dream… what was it?

Car honk. Pigeon hoot. The sun beamed directly into his tired eyes. Right. This was the third time he’d lived through today. He must’ve been stuck in a time loop of some sorts. 

But how was he supposed to get out?

Swallowing heavily, Miles slipped out of bed, changing out of his pajamas, and got ready for the day. He had to get to the diner.

The mouth-watering aroma of his mom’s quesadillas wafted from the kitchen. 

“Miles, come have breakfast!” she called out just as she noticed Miles pulling on his shoes, tilting her head. “And just where do you think you’re going?”

“Out. Diner. Y/N,” said Miles, rushing. “Sorry, ma. I’ll be back soon!”

“Wait—!” she exclaimed, but he was already dashing out the door and sprinting down the block.

You were just starting on your second milkshake, brows raising when Miles stumbled into the diner, nearly ripping the door off its hinges in his haste.

“Hey, you’re not late for once!” you proclaimed, clearly amused at his haggard state. But your humored expression melted away when you saw that Miles was in no smiling mood. “What’s going on? God, Miles, you need to sit down.”

Blowing out a breath, Miles slid into the booth and began to explain. It was a terrible explanation, one that made no sense at all—but Miles was desperate and clearly not thinking straight.

“Right, so, I’ve been living today for the past two days. And I’ve seen you die before—twice! I wake up every time you die. It must be like, uh, like—”

“Miles,” you said, brows furrowed. “I’m so confused right now. You’ve seen me die? Like… like a vision or something?”

“No! Uhm, yes? Wait, no, I don’t think so, at least. I—”

Before he could finish, the loud crashing resounded from far outside the diner, followed by distant screams. Your concern skyrocketed, and you glanced out the window to see what was going on. Miles pulled at the skin of his face, frustrated. 

Civilians were screaming and running every which way like headless chickens. A woman with a baby stroller tripped over the curb and you sprang up to your feet, immediately breaking out of the diner to help her.

“Y/N, wait, you can’t go—!” exclaimed Miles, rushing out after you.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled under your breath as the both of you caught sight of Omega Red and Wolverine barreling down the street in their altercation.

With no time to change into your suit, you clenched your fist, purple energy blade crackling to life around your skin, mildly burning at the cuffs of your hoodie sleeves.

“No, Y/N, listen to me, you can’t go, you’ll die!” Miles exclaimed, grabbing your forearm to stop you.

Rounding on him with a heated gaze, you shook your head. “Miles, hundreds of people are going to die! That’s Omega Red. He can kill anyone in a close vicinity. I can’t just stand back and let him do it. I need to go help Logan.”

With that, you shoved away from him, leaving Miles to stumble after you. He cursed under his breath, shooting out his webs to swing after you.

Omega Red caught sight of the both of you from afar, the red of his eyes gleaming hungrily.

The carbonadium tentacles curled around Miles first, crushing his lungs until he struggled to breath and black dots danced about his vision. He could only helplessly watch as you dived down and slashed at his legs, but were dragged out by the other coil, lifting you up by your head as if you were a ragdoll. 

To his horror, Omega Red flung you hard across the street. So hard that you crashed clean through the windows of the opposite building, and straight into three consecutive plaster walls after that.

And then everything went dark.

NOVEMBER SEVEN — TAKE FOUR.

“Up and at ‘em, kid!” 

Car. Pigeon. Sun.

Diner.

This time, Omega Red threw a car at you.

NOVEMBER SEVEN — TAKE FIVE.

Quesadilla. Newspaper. Trash.

Diner.

Miles was helplessly pinned to the street as Omega Red used Wolverine’s adamantium claws to slice you to pieces.

NOVEMBER SEVEN — TAKE SIX.

Running down the street. Your milkshake spilled all over the diner table. Miles frantically trying to tell you not to go out. He was so tired.

You went out anyway.

Omega Red picked you up and ripped you clean in half with his bare hands.

Bending at the stomach, Miles threw up all over the sidewalk.

NOVEMBER SEVEN — TAKE SEVEN.

Miles didn’t go to the diner this time. He stayed in bed, eyes unblinking and wide, his stomach roiling nauseously. 

“Miles!” came the muffled shriek of his mom. “Miles, it’s Y/N!”

Legs trembling, Miles stepped out of his room and slowly shuffled down the hall to see his mom and dad standing in front of the television. Rio’s eyes were quick to water, tears dripping down her cheek at the sight. His dad bowed his head and rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

The news was on. 

It was you, being recorded on a shaky camera—barely visible behind Omega Red, with his burly hands wrapped around your throat as he squeezed, squeezed, squeezed—

NOVEMBER SEVEN — TAKE EIGHT.

Three quick knocks to his door.

“Up and at ‘em, kid!” 

Miles threw himself out of bed just as the car honked. He was so very tired, eyes bloodshot and limbs weary. But he couldn’t give up. 

Hastily, not even bothering to change out of his pajamas, he ran out of his room after grabbing his web shooters, barely acknowledging his baffled parents. He bolted out the door at lightning speed, using his shooters to hurl himself down the street, to the diner.

People gawked and stared at him with wide eyes. They all gawked and pointed fingers, exclaiming, “Hey, it’s knock-off Spider-Man!” 

Miles couldn’t bring himself to care.

Not wasting any time, he barged into the diner, making his way to your booth. Before you could fit in any comments about how he was late, or how he looked like he’d just gotten run over by a bulldozer, he grabbed you by the shoulders, looking you straight in the eye.

“Listen to me. I’ve been stuck in a time loop, watching you die over and over and over again. You cannot leave this diner, Y/N. I’m being serious. Omega Red is going to come rolling down the street any second now—but you can’t help in any way, no matter how much you want to, or you’ll die and it just resets the loop for me. I need to keep you alive. Do you understand?”

With wide, unblinking eyes, you stared at your boyfriend as if he’d gone mad. A part of you thought this was just some elaborate joke—but the longer you looked into his eyes—his tired, weary eyes, the more you could see how sincere he was being. He was telling the truth.

“Time loop… like groundhog day?” 

Miles nodded.

“Do you know how to fix it?”

Crestfallen, Miles blew out a shaky breath. “No. Every time you die, the day just resets and I wake up back in my room—your death is basically… inevitable.”

A sick feeling twisted in your gut. Not really at the fact that you were fated to die in this loop, but at the idea of Miles having to watch and relive that over and over again.

“Oh, Miles, I’m so sorry…” you began, unsure of what else to say. Eyes softening, Miles released your shoulders, sliding his hands down your arms to thread his fingers with yours. 

A tentative idea sprung forth when your friend and vigilante mentor, Daredevil, once mentioned in passing a certain sorcerer living in New York that specialized in all things time-related.

“I think I might know someone that can help,” you said, squeezing his hands with a hopeful grin.

The Sanctum Sanctorum was a large, spacious building that remained suspiciously clean despite having only two ‘cleaners’ that looked far younger than you—Wong liked to call them apprentices, though. You’d passed by the building before twice—but never actually had any reason to come inside.

For such an important place, you were surprised there weren’t any guards by the door. You and Miles exchanged nervous glances, before stepping in. 

Stephen Strange was by the fireplace to the right, nursing a mug of a thick purple liquid. Draped over his shoulders was the infamous red Cloak of Levitation, which seemed to perk upwards in the presence of guests.

“Y/N L/N,” he greeted, narrowing his eyes at you, as if he’d known you were going to come. “Miles Morales—what brings the two of you to the Sanctum Sanctorum?”

How the peculiar sorcerer knew your names, neither of you had a clue.

“Hello, uh… doctor, er, sir—uhm, I’m—I think I might be stuck in a time loop?” Heat flushed over Miles’ face as he stumbled over his words, clearly overwhelmed that he was standing in front of an Avenger.

One of Strange’s eyebrows arched closer to his hairline. “You think?”

Clearing his throat, Miles winced as he replied, “I know I’m in a time loop. I’ve been living the same day over and over again more than half a dozen times.”

The sorcerer tilted his head, free hand coming up to stroke his well-groomed goatee. “Yep… that’s a time loop, alright. I’ve been stuck in one before—nasty thing it is.” The unpleasant memory of Dormammu made a grimace pull his lips thin. With that, he began striding away, leaving the two of you awkwardly standing by the Sanctum's entrance. 

After a second, Strange glanced back, rolling his eyes. “Come on, what are you two standing there dilly-dallying for?”

The two of you scampered along behind him, making your way further into the large building. Down a winding staircase you went, one that seemed to go on for ages. You peered over the railings, blanching upon seeing nothing but darkness for as far as the eye could see. Nervous, you reached out for Miles’ hand, which he gladly took.

Once the three of you had arrived by the floor, torches by the walls magically burst aflame, bathing the room in a warm clementine glow.

“Something incredibly wrong must have messed up your stream of reality’s timeline for it to fall back upon itself. Something that isn’t supposed to happen. Usually time loops occur when alternate realities collide into one another, thereby permanently damaging both realities’ time continuum—but it can sometimes happen on its own to prevent incursions from occurring in the first place. Like a safety net of sorts. It’s the universe’s way of giving you a second chance. Or… seven, in your case,” explained Strange, waving his hand in front of the Eye of Agamotto that rested just above his chest. The golden platelets pulled back to reveal a glowing emerald gem—the infamous time stone. Most of what he said had flown right over your head, but you nodded as if you understood anyway. “What is it that resets the loop each time, kid?”

Miles shifted his weight from foot to foot, suddenly feeling queasy. “Y/N dies,” he mumbled.

The sorcerer’s eyebrows twitched up in surprise. 

“Ah,” he said, his usually stoic demeanor melting into one of stiff, uncomfortable sympathy. “My condolences.”

“Thanks—uh, condolences… taken? Received? Yeah,” Miles awkwardly choked out. If it weren’t the dire situation at hand, you would’ve laughed at your boyfriend’s inability to just keep his mouth shut.

A glimmer of amusement danced behind Strange’s irises, but it disappeared just as quickly as it came. 

“Alright, kid, I can fix it for you—just promise not to talk during the spell. You’re not the only person who’s come to me asking to make life-altering changes to the time continuum.”

Neither of you really knew what he was talking about, but you stiffly bobbed your heads up and down nonetheless. 

With that, Stephen clapped his hands together, chanting lowly underneath his breath. The time stone began to emit a bright, lime-hued light—one that nearly hurt if you stared directly at it. 

And then… it all stopped.

Strange stopped murmuring in his foreign tongue, the stone stopped glowing, and everything felt eerily still.

Confused, Miles asked, “That’s it?”

A ghost of a smile traced the corner of Doctor Strange’s lips. “Yeah, kid. That’s it. It should all be over now—you’ll wake up in the real tomorrow, tomorrow. Now get outta here—before Wong mistakes you guys for his apprentices.”

“Thank you, Doctor Strange. This means the world to us,” you said, genuine gratitude shining through your expression as you squeezed Miles’ hand.

“Yeah, thanks Mr—Doctor—Sir… uh…” Miles began stumbling over his own tongue again, and this time, you couldn’t help but huff out a laugh. Strange cracked an actual smile as well, jerking his head towards the staircase.

The two of you began walking back up the steps, a weight settled off both of your chests. Miles more so than you—having to watch you die over and over again had taken a serious toll on him.

In a blink of an eye, the stairs disappeared beneath your feet, and the two of you found yourself right outside the Sanctum. Bewildered, the two of you glanced back, only to see a golden-ringed portal just behind you. Strange saluted with two fingers, raising his mug to slurp at the mysterious mauve sludge within his mug. 

The portal closed a second later. 

You and Miles stood in a fragile silence for a long moment.

“Miles… what you had to go through… I’m so sorry, it must’ve been a living nightmare. I can’t possibly imagine what that’s like. Are you sure you’re okay? Because I’m here to listen if you want to talk about it,” you whispered, glancing his way. Your expression had softened with raw concern, practically bleeding with affection for the young man beside you.

Instead of answering your question, Miles just shook his head, tightly winding his arms around you and squeezing. His nose rested against the crown of your head as he inhaled the homely scent of your shampoo. After recovering from your initial shock, you returned the embrace, the fabric of his shirt crumpling beneath your grip. His shoulders began to tremble.

“Are you crying?” you asked when he sniffled quietly.

“No,” he replied, voice thick. “Doctor Strange just has… dusty magical carpets, is all.”

A peal of laughter fell from your lips, and you fondly knocked your forehead against his. “Careful now, wouldn’t want Wong to fire his ‘apprentices’ now, would you?”

Miles gave you a watery smile, before pulling away, holding you at arm’s length. “Can you stay with me tonight? I just… I don’t wanna lose you again. I wanna make sure I wake up in the real tomorrow—where you’d still be alive.”

Leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek, you gave him a gentle grin. “Sure, Miles. Oh, we can watch the new season of Yellowjackets together!”

“Okay,” Miles said, watching you with a lovesick gaze as the two of you began walking down the street, one that made his dark irises all molten and doe-like. “Anything you want.”

NOVEMBER EIGHT.

Miles’ eyes cracked open blearily. A ray of sun was glaring through his window, shining directly into his face. From outside, he could hear cars honking and the flutter of a pigeons’ wings as it flew away from his windowsill.

Memories of yesterday—or rather—several yesterdays, came rushing to the front of his mind. Immediately, Miles sat up in bed, his foot accidentally knocking against the laptop sitting on top of his blanket.

Initial panic beginning to wane away, Miles looked to his side, relief flooding his veins upon seeing you splayed out on the other end of his bed, cheek smushed into his pillow as you slept. You groggily mumbled something unintelligible at his sudden movement, but slipped back into a peaceful sleep not two seconds later.

You startled back awake when Miles let out a sudden whoop of unrestrained joy, loud enough to alert his parents in the kitchen.

“Ugh, Miles,” you groaned, burying your face deeper into the pillow. “Shut up.”

Wincing, Miles eased back into bed, patting your shoulder while whispering, “Sorry, sorry. Go back to sleep.”

He tugged you close into his side, finding solace in your warmth—a physical reminder that you were real. 

This was real.

Miles grinned into your hairline, and clutched you all the closer.

By the time his mom and dad peeked their heads into his room to check that you two were alright, they were not at all surprised to see the kids fast asleep, limbs tangled and softly snoring away, with Miles taking up most of the space while you were squished against the wall.

The door softly shut once more, and Rio casted an amused glance at her husband, who also had the habit of taking up too much space in bed. “Like father, like son.”

Affronted, Jefferson followed after his wife as she strode away, thinking she was talking about his loud unconscious mannerisms (snoring, and, on occasion, talking in his sleep). “What? What do you mean by that? I told you, I don’t snore! Not anymore, at least…”

[minhohours]

birthday wish | bang chan

Pairing: BF!Chan x GN!Reader

Summary: It's your birthday, and your boyfriend decides to celebrate (in your bedroom, all day long)

Genre: fluff, smut

Content: pet names, praise kink, strip tease, soft dom!chan, piv penetration, fingering, oral, groping, protected sex, it's your day and he just wants to pleasure you ;), 18+ MDNI!

Note: @wolfboybangchan this one's for you! happy bday <3

It started as soon as you woke up. Your boyfriend brought you breakfast in bed, homemade pancakes topped with whip cream and fruit, perfectly crisp bacon, and coffee just the way you like it. He brought it on a silver platter, dressed in nothing but an apron and a smudge of flour on his cheek.

"Breakfast and a show, just for you darling," Chan says with a wink. "Let me just get one more thing, and then we can really celebrate."

He places the tray on your lap, kisses your forehead, and turns around to leave. He really wasn't wearing anything else under that apron, and you got a full view of his back muscles and his ass as he left the room.

The food was beautifully decorated, and delicious. He clearly put a lot of effort in to make it look and taste perfect. You knew he'd been planning this day for the last week, so you were excited to see what was next.

The door opens, and Chan peeks his head in and grins. He was wearing a birthday party hat.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you!" he sings, walking in with a cupcake in one hand and a plastic crown in the other. The cupcake has a lit candle on it, and he keeps singing as he walks over to you. Finally, he places the crown on your head and gives you the cupcake. You laugh at his antics, and when he finishes the birthday song you blow out the candle.

"Thank you, Chan," you say.

"Don't thank me yet, we haven't even gotten to the best part yet."

"Oh? And what's coming next?"

"If everything goes well, it'll be you." He winks again, and you laugh. "Finish your breakfast."

You scarf it down as fast as you can.

He unties the back of his apron, and slowly removes it over his head, teasing at what's underneath.

He moves the apron down, revealing skin inch by inch at at agonizingly slow pace. First he reveals his collarbone, then his chest, then he lowers it to his abs, showing off each ab individually. When he finally reaches his pelvis, he quickly brings the apron back up.

"Come on!" you whine.

"Okay, okay!"

He drops the apron.

He's wearing blue boxers with the words 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' on the waistband and a birthday present over his bulge. Of course he wasn't going to make it simple.

"Ha ha, very funny."

"What, you don't want to open my package?" he says, grinning.

You roll your eyes. You love your boyfriend to death, but he has a penchant for turning any situation into a gag.

"Take it off!"

"Alright! So impatient."

He thumbs the waistband and pulls down his boxers.

Hi [Y/N],

We hope you have been enjoying your free trial with 'birthday wish | bang chan'

Unfortunately, we’re coming to the end of this journey, but we’d love to keep it going!

In order to read the rest of this fic, you’ll need to select one of our paid plans. Otherwise, your trial will end and you won’t be able to access premium features any longer.

Here's what's included in the fic:

Another boxer under the first boxer

Chan goes "AWOOO"

You break the bed

Chan slips on the cupcake wrapper

You get that thang in ya

You squeak his tiddies and it makes a honking noise

Chan accidentally steps on the bottle of lube and it makes a mess on the plush carpet and he has to stop to go clean it up and it lowkey kills the vibe

You both fart at the same time

And so much more!

Choose your plan now:

If you’re not sure which one is right for you, you should try the Basic plan – it’s a great place to start.

Have any questions or need help? We’re only a message away – just hit reply and we’ll get right back to you.

- minhohours

[malimomo]

morning after with the monster trio

sfw • some spice by mentioning implied sex

summary: the Straw Hats come to the tavern you work at to celebrate Franky joining the crew. To your surprise, you ended up joining the celebration and found yourself in a bed in an unfamiliar room on a pirate ship the next day.

Sanji

Sanji is a gentle lover, but can get carried away if he is caught up in the moment.

And that is exactly what happened last night.

You wake up with a hickey on your neck and bite marks on your arms and feet. You are also upset, seeing that his side of the bed is empty. Negative thoughts flood your mind, and you are certain last night is the first and last time you’ll see him.

However, when you smell the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, you hop out of bed to find him making strawberry pastries along with a side of eggs for breakfast.

“How was your sleep, cherie?” He asks you. Smiling, you help yourself to a quiet morning meal with Sanji and talk about how next time you two meet, no drinking will be involved.

Zoro

Zoro, known for his lack of directional skills, ended up having sex with you on the wooden dock next to the ship.

Luckily, you are both under the shadows of the Thousand Sunny and hidden from prying eyes or villagers.

You wake up on your side, his shirt on your chest while his trousers barely cover his waist.

After you sat up, you are aching in between your legs; you two obviously did it rough and seeing finger bruises around your wrists showed that he dominated you.

Chuckling, you lay back down and close your eyes, listening to the sounds of the gentle waves on the harbor and getting pulled into an embrace.

Luffy

The captain of the Straw Hats has an amount of stamina you never knew any person could have.

After the filling meal, he was absolutely feral when he brought you into his cabin in a drunken state of mind.

Waking up, both of you are sweaty. You swore he heard him yell “Gear 2!” before a wave of pleasure washed over you. The room is hot like a sauna and you check your body for burns—luckily you didn’t have any.

Seeing how peaceful he looks, you decide let him sleep. You dress, look for Sanji, and asked him what Luffy likes for breakfast.

In his cabin, you find him yawning on bed. Smelling the bacon, he stretched one of his arms and wrapped it around you.

“Aw, you made breakfast!” He exclaims happily. Before you knew it, he scarfed down both of your plates. “Got more?”

[hellcat8908]

Flying Lessons Cassian x Female Reader

You were sleeping peacefully next to Cassian before the bedroom door flung open as Cassie and Merikh excitedly ran into the room. If you hadn't woken up from the noise, you would've when the twins fluttered onto the bed, climbing on top of you and Cassian. "Your children are awake." Cassian grumbled, still half asleep. "Before noon, they are yours." You mumble back as the twins excitedly demand that you both get up. You stretch before sitting up in bed. "You promised," Merikh says as he shakes Cassian awake. "Come on, let's get some breakfast and give daddy a chance to wake up." You say before taking them downstairs to the kitchen.

You made eggs, bacon, and toast, making sure to save some for Cassian. Your mate walked into the kitchen moments after the twins had started scarfing down food. "You're going to teach us to fly!" Cassie says with a mouthful of eggs. "I am, but you have to listen to what I say." He says. He grabs a plate and his tea before sitting at the table. Merikh starts telling him how excited he is and all the cool things he'll be able to do. You excuse yourself to go get dressed for the day. When you come back, both kids are rushing through cleaning up while Cassian finishes his tea.

Once the dishes are dry and put away, Cassian is out of excuses. You both take the kids outside where azriel and rhys are waiting, "how long have you two been here?" Cassian asks. "Not long, we heard the kids get their first flying lessons today." Rhys says, causing Cassian to shake his head. "Wel'll behave." They both say, causing you to laugh. "Alright, let's get moving." Cassian says as the 6 of you are winnowed to an open field. You watch as your mate and his brothers start giving instructions. The twins start arguing about who goes first so Azriel settles it by picking Cassie to go first, telling Merikh its part of being a gentleman.

As she flaps her wings, she slowly lifts off the ground, "Remember, don't go too high." Cassian reminds her as he keeps his arms ready to catch her. "You're doing great, Cassie," Rhys says, encouraging her. Even Merikh tells her how good she is. You watch as Cassian talks her through landing. "Alright, my turn," Merikh says as he follows how Cassie did it. He quickly gets the hang of it. "Good job," Azriel says as he watches from beside you with Cassie between you. "Easy, don't get too carried away." Cassian says as he watches.

Before long, Cassie in back in the air as they both start to become more comfortable. You can see the pride on Cassian's face along with his brothers. You take a moment to savor the sight in front of you, glad your kids have the support you didn't growing up. Cassian quickly turns his attention to you, sensing your emotions through the bond. You give him a smile and a nod, assuring him you're okay. Cassie lands beside you and excitedly tugs on your hand, "Fly, with me, mommy," she says. You can't help the stabbing pain you feel at her words, "Oh, sweetheart, mommy wishes she could, but she can't. Maybe Daddy will fly with you." You say trying to redirect her attention.

"But I want you to, please." She says, sounding sad. "I really do want to, but mommy can't fly, sweetheart." You say gently as she pouts. Before she can say anything else, Cassian tells her he'll fly with her, trying to help the situation. She doesn't relent, causing Cassian to decide that's enough for one day. "Why don't you love me?" Cassie says, causing your heart to break. "I love you very much." You assure her. "You won't fly with me." She says on the verge of tears. "There's something you need to know." You tell her as you pick her up. "You don't have to do this," Cassian says. "They deserve to know." You say as Merikh comes over.

"A long time ago, some bad men made it so mommy couldn't use her wings to fly anymore." You tell them. "It's not that I don't want to fly with either of you, but it's because mommy's wings don't work anymore." Cassie looks at you and apologizes, "Sorry mommy, I know you love me." She says as she throws her arms around your neck. "What happened to the bad men?" Merikh asks. "They won't hurt anybody else ever again." You tell him. "What about my wings? Are they going hurt mine?" Cassie asks, sounding scared. "No, sweetheart, Daddy and your uncles are making sure no one else has their wings hurt." You say. "Daddy and I will never let anything happen to either or you." You say trying to comfort them.

"Alright, you two, how about some more practice?" You say trying to get them excited again. "Yes!" Merikh says before taking off, causing everyone to laugh, "Wait for me!" Cassie shouts quickly, trying to catch up to her brother. "You didn't have to do that." Cassian says as he pulls you to his side. "We both knew they'd need to know eventually. For now, we'll spare them the details and let them be kids for as long as possible." You say watching them chase each other. You're content to spend the afternoon watching your kids learn to fly with the help of Cassian. The smiles on their faces and the endless laughter are worth everything you've endured.

[queen-of-reptiles]

𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷

description: in which jenna clark realises she may be a little rough with her girlfriend

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jenna clark x female reader

disclaimer: this is all fiction! Do not take any of this seriously.

warnings: this is a short one! just fluff

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y/n slowly blinked her eyes open, the sun streaming through the thin curtains pushing her to wake up earlier than she would have preferred for her day off.

The girl sighed and pushed her arm out to touch her girlfriend only to feel an empty side of the bed. y/n sat up, a pout on her lips when she realised her girlfriend was not in the room.

Just as y/n went to move, the door to the bedroom opened and Jenna walked in with a tray in her hands and the small patter of feet echoed. y/n's and Jenna's miniature border collie Mollie jumping at the bed.

"Molls!" Jenna warns, the dog huffing as she moved back down the bed, her head flopping onto y/n's lap as she sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Hi fluff." y/n chuckled, running her hand over her head.

Jenna sild onto the bed carefully, bringing the tray down between them where their coffees sat and breakfasts, y/n smiled softly, leaning over to kiss her lover's cheek.

"Thank you baby." y/n sighed, Jenna sending her a bright smile.

"Of course, you've been working too hard, I always say it." Jenna hums.

y/n was in her final year of her solicitor exams and also worked part time in a law firm and in a cafe to help pay for it all. Once she completed her exams, she had a role lined up with a soliciting firm for estate and would be able to stop the cafe job.

However, as they got into the final term, y/n found herself studying late, running off caffeine and tears, frantic writing into early hours of the morning, a few hours of stressed sleep and then straight to work.

Jenna could see her lover burning herself out and didn't know how to stop it, so when they finally had a day off together the footballer made it her personal mission to cheer her lover up.

"I thought we would take Mollie for a W A L K, grab some shopping and bake and watch movies for the day?" Jenna asks her lover as they begin to eat and y/n smiles.

"That sounds lovely." y/n smiles, letting Mollie have a slither of bacon from her plate which the dog whined thankfully at.

The two ate in small talk and giggles before showering together in a similar way, ghosting touches and soft kisses as they washed and changed before moving to get their shoes on.

"Mollie!" y/n called out, the small dog arriving obediently at y/n's feet. "Do you want to go for a..." y/n begins but Mollie saw the lead in her hand and barked excitedly jumping at her playfully.

"I think she's figured it out babe." Jenna chuckled and y/n nodded, clipping her dog onto the lead before the two headed out into the crisp winter air.

y/n shivered slightly, bringing her scarf closer to her neck as she looked back at Jenna, rolling her eyes at the fact her lover just had a beanie and thin coat on.

Jenna always said she never got cold, maybe the fact she was used to playing in cold temperatures helped her, whatever it was, Jenna didn't often feel the cold.

The trio made their way into the park and y/n unclipped Mollie, Jenna throwing the tennis ball which made the dog race after it excitedly, y/n giggling at the dog who sprinted back and let the ball drop at her feet.

y/n smiled and leant down, stroking at the dog and cooing proudly at her, before she picked up the ball and threw it, pouting when it didn't go as far as Jenna's.

"What's that pout for?" Jenna cooed, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend.

"My throw didn't go as far as yours." y/n huffed and Jenna chuckled.

"Baby, I'm a professional athlete?" Jenna reminds and y/n shrugs, still relaxing in Jenna's arms.

"With your feet." y/n jokingly whined.

"I still need to be strong though baby. So I can fight off those other players." Jenna grins. "And so I can cheer up my pouting girlfriend." Jenna adds.

"How does being strong..." y/n begins but Jenna stops her by picking her up bridal style and spinning her. y/n laughs loudly arms clinging to Jenna's shoulders as the woman comes to a stop.

"What do you think Molls? Cheered up?" Jenna asks the dog who was watching her owners with a tilted head.

Mollie barks at them, before panting and y/n laughs as Jenna puts her down, picking up the ball only to throw it again, Mollie racing off excitedly.

"Cheered up?" Jenna asks, y/n wrapping her arms around the woman's shoulders as Jenna's arms snake around her waist and pull the girl closer to her.

"Mmm. Definitely." y/n grins, leaning up to peck at Jenna's lips twice.

Jenna grins at the affection, her hands squeezing y/n's waist tighter for a moment, the two enjoying their moment of peace as the cold breeze washed over them.

"You're it!" y/n suddenly yells, tapping Jenna and running from her, Mollie jumping around y/n excitedly as the girl grabs the tennis ball and sprints away, Mollie following.

"Get back here!" Jenna yells, y/n screeching as she sees the woman running toward her.

"Mollie come on." y/n giggles madly, her and the dog trying to make it away, however the dog had far more speed.

Two hands grab y/n's waist and she squeals, throwing the ball once again for the dog who bounces after it happily. Jenna grips her lover, exclaiming in victory as she spins her and holds her tightly.

"Jen! Jen!" y/n tries, as the woman stops, still holding y/n above the ground. "Jen, too hard!" y/n warns, tapping Jenna's arms and she gasps, releasing the girl who takes a deep breath in, wincing at her aching waist.

"Shit, sorry baby." Jenna sighs, cupping y/n's face.

"It's okay love, you just sometimes forget the strength you have." y/n wheezes out, smiling when Jenna peppers kisses around her face.

"You're shivering baby, lets head back now, yeah?" She asks, Mollie barking in agreement as the dog had started to shake slightly from the bite of winter.

"Okay." y/n smiles, pressing a kiss against Jenna's cheek as she clips Mollie back, the dog panting as she padded with her owners back home.

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y/n was changing her shirt into one of Jenna's jumpers which Jenna had happily taken off as she changed into a fresh one, y/n happily sniffing the clothing before Jenna gasped.

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry." Jenna says, moving forward, her hand shakily spreading across y/n's waist, where her handprint was already beginning to bruise into the skin.

y/n looked down, not even realising Jenna had her so tightly in the park and expected the bruise. Jenna had yet to touch the skin and y/n smiled softly.

"Jen, it's okay." y/n promises, Jenna looking at her with wide guilty eyes. "Hey, it's okay." y/n promises, pulling Jenna's hand to press against her bruise softly.

"I feel so bad." Jenna sighs stroking the skin slightly. "I shouldn't be so rough with you." She adds.

y/n sighs, pulling the jumper on as Jenna pulls her hand away from the bruise, letting y/n wrap her hands around y/n's shoulders as y/n wrapped hers around Jenna's waist.

"It's not the first mark you've left on me Clark and it won't be the last." y/n says to her, an eyebrow raising suggestively.

Jenna chuckles, knowing well what her lover was talking about and rolled her eyes, pressing a kiss to her forehead lovingly, a warmth spreading through her at the way y/n didn't care.

"Besides..." y/n begins, leaning up to whisper her next sentence in Jenna's ear. "I usually like it when you get rough, don't I?" She asks, before pressing a kiss underneath the lobe.

Jenna groans, as y/n leans back down and the player leans down, connecting their lips in a deep kiss, her tongue quickly twisting into y/n's mouth.

"Come on." y/n hums as she pulls from Jenna. "Let's go make some dinner." She adds innocently. She begins to walk to the door but Jenna grabs her arm and drags her back toward the bed.

"Dinner can wait - I want dessert first." Jenna hums as she drags y/n onto the bed.

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jennaclarkkk just posted on her close friends story

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END

[apollosfavkiddo]

⛧° Cooking classes with Uncle Leo

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

content: leo valdez x fem!reader blurb

warnings: probably cursing, bad spanish, not proofread. ig that's it?? lmk!!

a/n: i didn't really like this, but i'm posting it anyways lol. dedicated to covey and @/pinkdiorluvr cuz i know they both love leo hehehe

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

You never learnt how to cook. A disturbed childhood with a shitty mortal dad was not the best place to get cooking lessons. Or to learn anything, on that matter.  

The point is, cooking skills aren’t something you possess, and that annoys you beyond limits. That took you to asking your best friend, Leo Valdez, for cooking classes. Which he immediately accepted. I mean, who wouldn’t want to teach your crush how to cook? 

"So, when can I go to your house?” You asked, which made him snap back to reality from just admiring your features.  

“Uh... my house?” He asked, as he completely forgot what you guys were previously chatting about. He was too busy with noticing how the freckles coated your cheeks, and how your black hair framed your face in the prettiest way possible. Oh, he was down bad.  

“Are you even listening to me right now, Leo?” You asked, waving your hand in front of his face. 

“Uh, yeah, ‘course I am. You were talking about the... cooking classes, right?” He asked, a sheepish smile making his way to his lips. You just rolled your eyes. 

“Yes, I am. When can I come to your house, hm?” You asked again. 

“Tomorrow at seven sounds good to you?” He asked. 

“Yeah, that’d be great.” You answer, smiling softly as well.  

“You’re gonna learn how to make the perfect pasta alla carbonara, my dear apprentice. It's one of my specialties.” He said, passing an arm across your shoulders and pulling you to him.  

Before you could even pull away so you could leave, he planted a kiss with a loud ‘mwah’ to it and darted off, laughing. You were left confused, blushing and smiling as a toddler who just got a pack of candy.  

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Leo stood in his kitchen, a grin plastered on his face as he waited for his best friend’s arrival. He was looking forward to it, since he knew that it was a chance of absolutely zero percent that this whole class didn’t end in absolute chaos.  

He leaned against the counter, tapping his fingers impatiently, trying to figure when you’d finally come, what clothes you’d be wearing, what shoes you’d wear and in which way your hair would be. Would it be down? Would you put it in a ponytail? A bun? A braid? 

Oh gods, he was such a sucker for that damned daughter of Poseidon.  

Eventually, he heard the rhythmic knock on the door, telling him that you were finally there, much to his happiness.  

“Come on, Valdez, it’s freezing out here!” You complained, just when he finally opened the door and you barged inside, escaping the snow from the outside world. You were in a black coat, wine-red leggings, gloves and a cute scarf so your nose didn’t get too cold. “Finally! Thought you’d leave me out there to die.” 

“I’d never do that, princesa. I mean, at least not today, I need an assistant.” He said jokingly, poking your shoulder and teasing you as you took your coat off.  

“I’m gonna punch you, I swear to all the gods that I know.” She threatened. He just smiled and walked towards the kitchen, with you following right behind him. “So, what’re you gonna teach me today?”  

“We’re gonna make the best pasta ever – carbonara!” He said happily as he pointed at the counter, which was filled with ingredients for the dish – bacon, eggs, flour and cheese were neatly organized in the counter, ready to be turned into a meal. 

“If this goes wrong, I'm ordering a happy meal.” You complained, putting the things you brought to make your favorite dessert, a classic that you learnt with a Brazilian friend of yours – Brigadeiro. It's actually the only thing that you can cook without burning down the whole house.  

“First, we gotta make the pasta.” The latino said, and you grimaced. 

“Why do we have to make it? Isn't it easier to just, you know, buy the pasta and cook it?”  

He shrugged. “Yeah, it’s easier. But making it is so much fun!” He said, with a smile on his face, and started pouring flour on the counter, making a small tower and soon making a hole in it. Then he stopped and looked at you. 

“What? Is there something on my hair?” You asked, brushing off your hair, which made Leo laugh. 

“No, no. I need you to grab six eggs and crack them here.” He said, gesturing towards the bowl.  

“Oh.” You mumbled and picked up the bowl, cracking the eggs in it and being extra careful with the shell. When you finished, you looked at him with puppy eyes. “What now?”  

“Put them here.” He said, gesturing to the hole in the flour. You nodded and poured the eggs there. “Now, you washed your hands, right?” You nodded again. “Great. Now, you have to mix the eggs and the flour until we have a smooth dough; the pasta!” 

You just nodded and put your hands to work. It was cute, since you didn’t seem to know what you were doing, and it was just so cute the way you were unsure on whether you were doing the right thing or not.  

“You’re doing great, y/n/n.” He assured. If you looked up, you’d see a proud smile on his face. 

After a few minutes of squeezing and mixing the dough, it was finally ready. You looked up at Leo’s face, a proud smile on your face and shining eyes. Maybe cooking wasn’t really that bad, after all. Not if you had a good teacher and friend around. 

He was starstruck. He couldn’t even move. You were just so pretty, flour all over your arms and hands, a little spot on your cheek white from when you rubbed the back of your hand on your face. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you in that moment.  

But he knew he couldn’t. He shouldn’t do it. Couldn't risk his friendship with you.  

And yet you were so tempting, so pretty like that. In his kitchen, with his apron – which was slightly too big for your tiny frame – and with him.  

“So, what do we do now?” You asked, interrupting the trance he was in. He shook his head and blushed, embarrassed to be caught like that.  

“Uh... the- the eggs. We need to make the eggs.” He said, blushing after getting caught staring at you. “You can whisk the yolks while I cook the bacon. Is that alright with you?”  

“Mhm. You just need to teach me how to separate the yolks.” You said, with a smile.  

You two continued the cooking, with Leo cooking the bacons till they were golden brown and crispy while you whisked the egg yolks and the cheese together. It was a fun night, where you ate the food you made – which was delicious, by the way – and had fun with your best friend. 

The only out of the ordinary thing was that the whole time you were there, the only thing you wanted was to jump on Leo’s lap and kiss the hell out of him.  

And his train of thought was not that far away from yours. 

Don't get me wrong, he loved to spend platonic time with you, of course. But he really, really wanted to kiss you.  

‘Oh, for my father’s sake, what I wouldn’t give to kiss her.’  

“...what?” You asked, your face clearly redder with his – more than sudden – confession.  

You never thought he’d want to kiss you, much less give yourself the hope that maybe someday that’d happen. No, it was selfish, and you knew – or at least thought – that he’d never ever like his best friend.  

But here he was, saying how much he’d give in exchange for a kiss.  

“Oh, shit- I said that out loud, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, Y/n, you can really pretend this never happened, I just-” AAAAAND he was rambling. Again. So, the easiest way out of that situation was, obviously, shut him up with a kiss.  

He immediately melted. His hands stopped flying around his face and went to graze your neck and waist, unsure, but ready to search.  

It was one of the best kisses you’ve ever had, and it was definitely the most awaited one. His lips were cracked and raspy, and he tasted sweet like the juice you had.  

When you finally pulled away, both of your cheeks were red and there was a smile playing on both of your lips.  

“I kinda love you.” You admited.  

“Good, ‘cause i love you too, princesa.”