#cut that out youre SUPPOSED to gush that's the point

[platonic-pals-punchout]

Preliminary Polls: Pokemon (Multimedia)

Ingo & Emmet:

Alright alright, LISTEN. First of all they are identical twins. They're the opposite of the other and complete eachother (example : Ingo always has a frown while Emmet smiles, Ingo is eloquent and talkative whereas Emmet is very direct and blunt) (also they are dressed in black and white like the games they are in and I find it awesome). They are shown to care for eachother deeply : Well fisrt of all they work together But mist importantly, in the mobile game Masters EX they have SO MANY lines where they talk about the other it's adorable. They are together in all special events and there is one in particular where Emmet does everything to help his brother achieve one of his ideas (which is technically building a small battle Subway from a remaining mine). On a side note, they are the embodiment of autism and I love them for that

Ash Ketchum & Pikachu:

Ash and Pikachu have spent decades together fighting everyone from little kids to literal deities after Ash saved Pikachu from a bunch of angry pidgies, so they're basically the unstoppable force half of "unstoppable force meets immovable object". And frankly? I have yet to hear an immovable object in your list of submissions.

[not-neverland06]

you're not her

The 'Worst' Logan x fem!mutant!reader

a/n: really wanted to write for the worst logan so I found a streaming site so I could finally watch the new Deadpool movie (yay pirating) (this is totally hypothetical and a joke to the feds lurking) I was going to just read the wiki plot but I don’t think that was going to cut it Again, using the same superhero name/powers. It’s not an OC I swear, it just makes sense in comic book movies to have some alternate name and I’m not creative enough to come up with multiple different supe names. Summary: You hate him, you really fucking hate him at first. He’s cruel and constantly reminds you that you’ll never be the hero he knew. You’re not her and he’s made that abundantly clear. But what are you supposed to do when he’s suddenly your new roommate and you have no choice but to wake up to his face every day? I feel sad because I don’t think I did the angst justice with this one. But if I keep staring at it trying to fix it, then I’m never going to post it. (This is a long one guys) Angst with a happy ending (because I’m a little bitch) Makeout scenes and smut towards the very end 18+ MDNI

You don’t know how you got here, but you know you’re mad at whoever dragged you into this shit. You don’t think it would be wild to assume it was Wade’s fault. Usually, when something goes wrong in your life it’s on him. 

What you do know; you look like shit. Wade and Wolverine are both standing over you in their awesome ass uniforms and you’re still in your fucking pajamas. How are you supposed to be badass and save the world in pants that have Spiderman’s face plastered all over them?

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Wade,” you growl at him. 

He places his hand daintily on his chest and waves you off, “Save that for the bedroom, pookie.”

You grit your teeth and glare up at him, Wolverine gives him a similarly disgusted look. “Fuckin’ ridiculous,” you grumble under your breath. You get to your feet and brush yourself off, finally looking around and taking in wherever the fuck he’s dragged you. “Where are we?”

“The void,” Wade responds, voice ridiculously dramatic. You look around and throw your hands up in defeat. 

“What the fuck, Wade? Why did you drag me with you into this?” You look over at the Wolverine beside him. He hasn’t stopped glaring at you both and his claws are out, clearly ready to just eviscerate you. “Who the fuck is this?”

“Okay, wow, language, Flux. I’m disappointed in you.”

“Eat me-”

You’re cut off by the knock-off Wolverine standing a few feet behind you both. “Flux?” He demands, voice so low you almost can’t hear him. Both you and Wade’s heads whip around to face him. Thus far he’s been relatively silent, you nearly started to wonder if he was mute. 

“It’s her X-Man name,” Wade tells him, gushing like it’s some big deal. “Impressive, huh?” You don’t bother correcting him that it was your X-Men name. Can’t exactly call yourself that if they booted you off the team for being a crappy superhero. 

Logan snorts and shakes his head. He stalks towards you and you nearly fall over in your attempt to scramble back from him. “You,” he demands, claws pointed at you threateningly. “You’re Flux?”

Wade hisses, watching as Logan swipes out at you. “Alright, peanut, let’s put the claws away and take a deep grounding breath.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan snaps at Wade. He turns to glare at him and you take the opportunity to scramble behind your friend for protection. At least if he gets stabbed, he’ll heal. “You,” he scoffs and it trails off into a laugh. There’s no humor behind it, he's just a dick. “You are a fucking joke compared to my Flux.”

The ground underneath you rattles, pebbles bouncing off the cracked desert and ricocheting off their boots. Wade quickly moves away from you, shoving you forward so he’s not in the line of fire. “Yeah, well you’re just an alcoholic fuck who could never hold a candle to my Logan.” 

You can feel energy brewing at the tips of your fingers, waves, and waves of hate building up within you. The man across from you feels the shift, the static suddenly permeating the air around you both. You let your power build and build…

The pebbles drop back to the ground and you stumble back from Logan, nose bleeding from overextending yourself. “Shit,” you mutter, wiping at your face with the back of your hand and shaking your head. 

Logan laughs again, it echoes through the stormy sky and you wish you had any control over your powers so you could just send him flying. Or, better yet, turn his bones into liquid and flip him inside out. “Oh,” he lets out a long exhale, glaring at both of you. “This is fuckin’ ridiculous.” The faux smile drops from his face and he raises his voice just loud enough to make you jump, “Just one big fuckin’ joke!”

You have about five seconds to dive to the side before Logan is lunging at Wade. “Wait, wait, wait we can talk about this!” Wade shouts, but it’s too late, he’s already on the ground getting his head caved in. 

You let out a rough sigh, stumbling off to the side. You’re drained from that shitshow of powers. You barely made a few rocks levitate and you feel like you’re going to pass out. You walk away from the two men and throw yourself on the ground, trying to reorient yourself while they fight like wild animals. 

You can hear them in the background, stabbing and shooting like they’re aiming to kill. Too bad neither of them can die. It’d save you a hell of a headache.  They run past you, Logan’s got his claws buried in Wade’s gut while Wade’s desperately firing off his gun into Logan’s chest. 

Your head rolls weakly to the side and you mutter out a pathetic, “No, stop. Don’t kill each other.” As expected, neither of them listens to you. They keep fighting, showing no signs of stopping. 

There’s a moment of silence after about ten minutes of nothing but grunts and insults. You peak your head up in interest. Logan got his claws posed over Wade’s throat. You wonder if decapitation would actually kill him or if he’d somehow manage to survive that. 

Wade doesn’t seem interested in testing out the theory, “They can fix it!” Wade shouts, “They can fix your timeline. I just need your help saving mine.”

Your eyes widen and you meet Wade’s masked gaze over Logan’s shoulders. The white slits widen and he minutely shakes his head, telling you not to say anything. Like, maybe, that neither of you has any fucking clue if the TVA is capable of even fixing timelines like that. 

You know Wade is desperate when he makes that promise. It’s the only reason he would say something so stupid. It’s a blatant lie, one pulled so far out of Wade’s ass you’re genuinely surprised that Logan can’t smell the bullshit. Whatever happened in his universe must have been horrible for him to ever believe anything that comes out of any Deadpool’s mouth. 

It’s a long moment before Logan finally pulls his claws out of Wade. Your friend slumps forward in relief as Logan stalks away from him. You glare at Wade from where you are on the ground, “That was fucking stupid,” you snipe at him. He gets to his feet, walks over to you, and forcefully yanks you to your feet. 

“Not a goddamn word,” he warns, but you aren’t exactly threatened by him when he's got three holes in his head from Logan’s claws. Still, you hold your hands up and acquiesce, following after him as he chases down Logan. 

Your mind is still fuzzy when you are captured by Cassandra. You're recovering from overextending yourself, eyes blurring and limbs going limp like jello when her army of henchmen circle you all. 

You finally feel yourself starting to come back to your body when you wake up tied to Johnny. “And,” Wade draws the word out, waiting until you lift your head to finish, “there she is! Happy you could join us, princess. Mind turning these ropes into dust for me?”

You groan and let your head slump onto Johnny’s shoulder. He smirks and glances down at you. “Oh fuck off, both of you. I can’t do shit right now and you know it, Wade, I’m drained.” 

Logan is glaring at you, but there’s less hate in his glare and more confusion now. “Can you do anything?”

You narrow your eyes at him, lips screwed up while you try to decide if he’s being an asshole or genuine. “Hard of hearing or something old man? I’m drained,” you reiterate, your tone a little too bitchy. 

Logan narrows his eyes, grunting something foul under his breath. Wade interferes before you can piss each other off anymore. “She had an accident, her brain’s a little broken now. But it’s fine! Whose isn’t?”

You huff and throw yourself back against the cage you’re all being transported in. You feel eyes on the side of your head and slowly look over to see Johnny grinning at you. “Hey, you know I’ve met one of your variants-”

“Don’t give a fuck,” you interrupt. You hear Wade snicker under his mask, giving you an encouraging thumbs up even with his hands bound. You were both a little disappointed it wasn’t Captain America lurking under that cloak. But at least this guy isn’t such a prude he won’t cuss. 

For the next five minutes, you’re on the receiving end of a very enthusiastically vulgar rant about just what a cunt Cassandra Nova is. He’s still not even finished by the time you reach the gates to her lair.

Your eyes widen when you see all the people lurking around the walls. Most of them you recognize as people you’ve put away or killed in your world. But there’s something just minutely different about them than the version you faced in your timeline. Their eye color or outfit is always just slightly off. 

The familiar faces are almost a relief. But there is nothing comforting about knowing you're outnumbered two hundred to four. The cage is tipped over and you go rolling out, you grunt as Johnny’s elbow digs into your ribs. 

Before you can even attempt to shove him off, the ropes are whipped off of you and you’re dragged by an invisible force across the ground. Rocks and sand scrape across your tender skin and bury themselves deep in your pores. You hiss in pain when you finally come to a stop and your body is your own again. 

A groan slips through your parted lips unbidden as you struggle onto your knees. Your pajamas are ripped practically everywhere and you feel like you might as well be naked at this point. You really wished that you at least had a chance to change before you were kidnapped to another universe. 

The woman you presume to be Cassandra Nova is currently fucking Wade’s skull with her freakish telepathy fingers. Johnny’s a pile of guts and bones on the floor and you have no fucking clue where she flung Logan to. 

You get to your feet, shaking your head and reorienting yourself. In a second she’s in front of you, head tilted to the side while she regards you curiously. “Woah,” you jump back, glaring at her outstretched hand. 

“Careful,” Wade warns her breathlessly, still clutching his head. “Flux here has a pathological fear of bald people.”

You nod, “It’s true, you can imagine how strained my relationship with your brother was.” Cassandra circles you, a devious tilt to her lips. Your eyes track her, unwilling to take your gaze off her for even a second. You feel like a rabbit, facing down a fox that’s made its way into your burrow. 

“Curious,” she mutters. “I’ve seen quite a few of you down here before. But,” she chuckles and before you can move her hand is shoving its way into your brain. You scream, there’s an agonizing burn as her fingers probe under your eyes and dig through the deepest part of your subconscious. It feels like someone’s taking a shovel and ripping up your worst traumas. “None of them have been so weak.”

Wonderful, even she wants to insult you. You can feel the way she’s plucking through your thoughts, tossing aside the ones she doesn’t like. Images of your childhood are flashing across your vision. You can no longer see the world around you, it’s like every one of your worst memories is being played on a projector. 

“Ah,” she clicks her tongue and jerks your neck around until you’re looking at something you’ve tried to forget for years. “Here it is. How easy it would be for me to simply unblock those powers of yours.” She smiles, her face appearing before you and blocking out the bloodshed. “It would make this far more entertaining for me, what do you say?”

Your teeth are clenched so tightly you’re surprised they haven’t cracked yet. It’s hard to get the words out when her fingers are still dancing through your skull. “Fuck you,” you finally spit out. She releases you suddenly, and you surge forward with a gasp, clutching at your skull desperately. 

You half expect your brains to begin leaking from your nose and eyes. But nothing happens, despite feeling incredibly violated, everything is still in its proper place. Cassandra walks past you like everything is fine and dandy in the world. “Well, as much as I would love to see those powers of yours in action again, Flux, I’m afraid Alioth must eat.”

Before you can ask what she's talking about there’s a loud rumble. Like thunder cracking through the sky and land, the ground underneath you shakes. Cracks form under your feet and the henchmen around you all start desperately racing for cover. 

You turn around, staring wide-eyed at the purple cloud of death and destruction steadily moving across the sky. A face breaks through the clouds, grinning down at you. Purple lightning hits the ground and the villain next to you explodes into nothing but dust. 

“Shit!” You shout, turning around and running to try and avoid getting zapped up next. There’s no coming back from this one. Once this monster gets you, not even god could save you. 

Suddenly, an arm wraps around your waist, lifting you off your feet. “No time for consent, we’ve got to get the fuck outta here!” Wade shouts in your ear. Logan is standing next to some robot leg, ripping out cords until a jet on the back fires up. Wade leaps onto the boot, wrapping an arm around Logan’s legs as you’re all shot into the sky. 

You’d scream if you weren’t trying not to throw up. You hurtle through the sky at speeds that have your skin nearly ripping off your skull. The rocket on the back of the leg starts to sputter out. The flames flickering out and then back to life. It steadily begins to drop until you’re plummeting headfirst towards the ground. 

Wade wraps himself around you, tossing himself off the boot so he can brace your fall. You hear and feel nearly all of his bones break under your weight. For a moment it feels like you’re laying on warm jello as you try and catch your breath. 

“Nailed it,” he mutters weakly. You’re pretty sure he can’t breathe, a rib having pierced his lung in the fall. A shadow looms over you and you glance up to find Logan glaring down at you. You stare at him apprehensively, half expecting him to unsheathe his claws and just end you right here. 

Instead, to your surprise, he holds a hand out. You look at it with suspicion, glaring back up at him. “Fucks sake,” he mutters. He reaches down, roughly grabbing your hand and jerking you to your feet. You feel the warmth of Wade’s blood on your back and grimace. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, still not entirely trusting of him. 

He purses his lips into a thin line, backing awkwardly away from you. He just nods and starts surveying the land around you. It feels less like trying to figure out where you all landed and more like awkwardly avoiding eye contact. 

The whole interaction leaves you feeling odd. “Well, that was as awkward as two virgins on prom night,” Wade loudly announces as he jumps to his feet. You whip around and send him a dirty look but his attention has already been snagged by something else. Lately, you’ve been considering grounding up Adderall and slipping it into his breakfast, you think it might do him some good. 

What’s got to be the fugliest dog you’ve ever seen in your life bounds towards Wade. He drops to his knees, ripping off his mask and opening his arms wide to the mutt. You grimace, taking a step back when she starts licking his face. “Oh, that’s just wrong.”

Thankfully dogless, you steal Nicepool’s Honda Odyssey - much to Wade’s chagrin. Logan’s in the front seat, Wade beside him. You’re sitting in the back, rubbing your temples and trying to get rid of the raging migraine you’ve had since Cassandra finger blasted your brain. 

You’ve been zoning in and out of the conversation happening in the front seat of the car. But Logan suddenly slams on the brakes and you go hurtling forward. Without even looking at you, both their arms shoot out, blocking you from flying through the windshield. 

Your face scrunches up as you look at both their arms, it feels like being saved by an overbearing soccer mom. “Buckle up, princess,” Wade tells you. He shoves you back into your seat and you look between the two men suspiciously. 

“Did you just say if?” Logan growls, glaring at Wade. Your face drops, finally realizing what you’d missed. 

Wade lets out a weak chuckle, “Slip of the tongue?” Logan growls and the claws come out. Wade raises his hands, “Okay, let’s put a brake on the crazy train. I wasn’t lying it was just an educated,” for the first time in your friendship Wade is actually speechless. You’re shocked by the silence. Until, of course, he runs his mouth again and comes up with the lamest cop-out you’ve ever heard. “It was an educated wish that they could fix your timeline, alright?”

Logan doesn’t give much of a warning except a low growl before he shoves his claws deep into Wade’s thigh. “You motherfucker!”

“Hey!” You shout, jumping forward and ripping Logan’s claws out of Wade’s leg. “Look, we’re trying to save our whole fucking universe. Can you blame him for lying?” You regret opening your mouth pretty much immediately. 

You should have just stayed out of this, it wasn’t any of your business. And if they wanted to be two dumbasses and fucking tear each other apart then so be it. But you never should have drawn attention to yourself. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan shouts at you. It’s so startling, coming from him. You’re still associating him with the man you’d looked up to growing up. Your Wolverine was a hero. He was the reason you wanted to be an X-Man. And they look exactly the same, it’s nearly impossible for you to separate this one from the one you knew. 

But it's easier now. Because the man you’d known would never be so cruel and jaded to the world. Not like this. “Why the fuck are you even here? You’re just some watered-down knockoff of a real hero. You are nothing, you’re worth nothing. It’s a fucking joke that you’re alive and the woman I knew is buried six feet deep. If there was anything right in the world you would be in a grave somewhere crawling with maggots.”

Your eyes water without your permission. You don’t know this man. Yet, he has the face of your greatest hero and the man who you’d grown up hearing stories about. It’s like facing everything you’ve ever wanted to be and having it shout your deepest fears and insecurities back at you. He’s just confirming something you’ve known for years. You never deserved the title of being an X-Man. You never deserved the uniform or anything that came with it. 

Your breaths are coming short and fast, it feels like your lungs are constricting. You worry you won’t be able to get air in but he doesn’t care. No, he keeps going. “You follow this fucking clown around and you contribute nothing to the world. You’re never gonna save your fucking timeline. You can’t even make a few rocks float.” It’s not the words that hurt you next. It’s the way he says it. “You’re pathetic.”

He spits them at you. There’s venom lacing his tone like he’s seen into you and knows there’s nothing in you to offer. For the first time in a long time, you feel seen and you hate it. Because he’s looking past the sarcasm and the faux confidence you carry yourself with. 

He sees the empty husk of a woman you truly are and he’s forcing you to face it with him. It causes you physical pain, to know that everything you’ve ever feared about yourself is true. You don’t have anything to say to him, you can’t. 

Your lips tremble and you feel so fucking small. You can hear your parent's voices in your head, screaming at you and wishing you were never born. They’d rather have a stillborn than a fucked up mutant for a daughter. You see the way even other kids at the school would hide from you. You were made wrong, even as a mutant you were never truly accepted. 

Logan’s face drops ever so slightly at the prolonged silence in the car. Even Wade isn’t speaking, he’s just staring at you both. “I,” he starts, but Wade cuts him off. 

“I’m gonna hurt you now.” Wade’s never been one to let people run over you, even when you might just let yourself fall into the background. You shouldn’t be surprised when he draws a knife and stabs it into Logan’s throat. 

But the arterial spray that follows catches you off guard and suddenly your tears are dried. Instead, you’re throwing open the car door and diving out before one of them crushes you. You make it out of the car just in time, Logan having thrown Wade right where you had been sitting. 

Music starts up in the car as a result of their fighting. Divorced dad rock and the sounds of their, borderline, sexual grunting are your soundtrack for the rest of the night. You curl up at the base of a tree, waiting for them to be done with each other. 

Logan’s words continue to echo through your head. And the longer you linger on what he said the angrier you get. Not necessarily at him, but at yourself. You’ve let yourself linger in self-pity and wallow in regret for so long. 

You look in the mirror and you no longer recognize yourself. He’s right, as much as you hate to admit it, you’re a fucking joke. You toss your head back, slamming it against the trunk of the tree hard enough for it to hurt. 

There’s this manic, cloying feeling tugging at your chest. It’s like someone’s sitting on your ribs, crushing you until you can’t breathe anymore. You keep throwing your head back, letting the pain distract you until you feel warm blood leaking down the back of your scalp. 

“Shit,” you hiss, hand coming up to cradle the back of your skull. You wince when you feel the split in your skin. The blood leaks over the tips of your fingers, running through the cracks of your palm. 

You force yourself to relax, to move your head away from the tree. As you go to stand up, possibly to get Wade and Logan to quit their fighting, you notice something odd. The air around you is still, you can no longer hear them grunting or groaning as they rock the Honda. 

Leaves are suspended in the air. They’re not trembling from the breeze, they’re completely frozen. You take a step forward and gasp when you hit something solid. The air in front of you has solidified somehow. 

The realization dawns on you slowly but surely. This is you, you’ve done this. Manipulated everything around you on an atomic level. You’ve turned something you shouldn’t be able to feel into something you can touch. Frozen the world around you. Whatever Cassandra had done inside your head, it had knocked something loose. 

You haven’t had this wide a range of control for years. Any attempt to do something like this has been met with nosebleeds and long periods of blacking out. Elation fills you, the hurt from earlier is nearly gone. 

You glance through the wall of air and try to see if you can still see the Odyssey. To your horror, it’s gone. You wave your hands and the air returns to normal. The leaves drift back to the forest floor and you run back to where you’d left the two men. 

There are tire tracks dug deep into the mud. You know Wade wouldn’t willingly leave you behind, not here. You don’t know if Logan’s just kidnapped him or if someone else has. Whoever was driving was clearly in a rush to get out of here. 

You must have missed it all while you were having your meltdown. “Fuck,” you shout, your voice echoing into the branches above. You take in a deep breath and start walking. Hopefully, you can catch up to them before whoever has them does serious damage. 

You make it to a weird cave/hideout area. The Odyssey is parked outside and when you peek through the broken windows you find the interior completely destroyed. There’s blood soaking through every surface, anything and everything has been smashed and bent the wrong way. 

You don’t even know if this is from Wade and Logan or whoever had snatched them. Shaking your head you back up and slink towards the entrance of the den. You can hear shouting inside, it sounds like Wade, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. 

You haven’t seen action for a long time. At least not any that you could actually contribute to. It feels a bit like riding a bike. You’d practiced on your way here, making things around you float or eradicating a few trees into nothing but dust in the wind. But this is different. 

Your friend (and Logan) are inside, possibly being tortured. Maybe even dead. Though, you seriously doubt the universe is going to be that nice to you. You let the energy build in your arms, it’s like a warm tingling feeling. It shoots down to the palms of your hands until you feel static in the air. 

You take a step inside and spot three people. Each of them is decked out in weapons. One of them turns and spots you. “Who is-” 

You don’t let him finish, throwing your hands out and slamming them all into the wall so hard the whole interior shakes. Dirt rains down from the ceilings while their faces contort in pain. You run inside, spotting Logan and Wade. 

You shoot Wade a big grin but he throws his hands up and shouts, “Read the fucking room!” Your brows furrow and he points emphatically at the people you’re holding, “Good guys!”

“Oh shit,” you release them immediately, a guilty look on your face. “I am so sorry.” Logan cackles in the back, doubled over laughing while the three people in front of you brush themselves off. 

You don’t want to be out here with him, but it’s better than being in that cave with the others. Laura walks past you, sending you an uneasy smile. You’d noticed her sitting beside Logan and decided they probably needed a few moments to themselves. 

They were finished now, though, and he had the only bottle of liquor left in the cave with him. You trudge over to him, leaves crunching under your boots. Elektra, after that horrific introduction, had given you a uniform a different Flux had left behind. 

She was long gone, killed by Cassandra years ago, but she’d conveniently been your exact size. The uniform is nearly identical to the one you have buried under your bed. Black leather with a dark purple X going across your chest and matching purple seams. You’d never wanted something ridiculously flashy. Just something that people would see and associate with the X-Men. 

Because that’s all you’d ever wanted to be; a hero. It feels like a pipe dream now. If your pajamas weren’t so destroyed you would have just stayed in them. You don’t feel like you deserve this uniform, not when the woman who’d worn it before you had actually been a hero in her timeline. 

“Don’t want company,” Logan snarks, without even looking back to see who’s coming up to him.

You take a seat on the lawn chair closest to him and snatch the bottle of whiskey from his hands. “Good,” you tilt your head back, downing as much as possible. It burns the whole way and you revel in the slight tickle in the back of your throat. 

“Alright,” Logan mutters. He gently takes the bottle back from you, giving you an aggrieved look when he sees just how much you’ve stolen. He looks back into the fire and sighs, “Look, I’m not interested in hearing about your sob story or why you’re suddenly drinking all my liquor-”

“Gambit’s liquor,” you interrupt, not bothering to look at him. “And I’m not looking to dump my sob story on your lap. I just want to sit in silence and that’s impossible because Wade hasn’t stopped running his mouth since we got here.”

He looks a little surprised by the brusque way you dismiss him, “Alright,” he mutters. He takes another swig from the bottle and you both stare silently into the fire. It’s like that for a while, you don’t bother keeping track of time. 

All you hear is the crackling of the flames. All you can feel is the way your eyes burn from staring into the fire and watching sparks pop off the logs for too long. The breeze rustles the trees, makes the leaves shake free and dance around the logs of the fire. 

He breaks the silence first, to your chagrin. “About what I said,” he clears his throat uncomfortably, still refusing to look at you, “back in the car.”

“Don’t,” you snap, voice low. “Just,” you let out a long breath and shake your head. You finally look over and meet his eyes. He does actually look sorry, but you don’t want to hear it. “Just don’t, I deserved it all right.”

“No, no you didn’t.” You open your mouth to argue but he gives you a firm look that has your jaw snapping shut. “I was wrong, I don’t know you. And if my Flux had ever heard me talking to you like that she would have melted my fucking spine.” He laughs a little and you feel your lips twitch up slightly. It’s the first time you’ve seen him look anything but angry. 

Curiosity loosens your tongue and knocks you out of the dazed stupor you’ve been in. “What was she like?” You ask, tone earnest. “Your Flux, I mean, you make her sound so amazing. I just can’t,” you trail off, but the look on his face tells you he understands your unspoken words. I just can’t see myself as a real hero. 

He groans and leans back on the log he’s resting on. He stretches his legs out in front of him, the liquor bottle placed on the forest floor. You’re surprised, you figured the thing was glued to his hand. 

“Well,” he reaches up and scratches at the scruff of his chin, a wry grin on his face. “She was always giving me shit, never let me get away with anything.” You unconsciously lean forward, drawn into the endearing way he begins to describe this other version of you. 

It’s not ridiculous to assume this variant meant something to him. He’s got a shine to his eye that you haven’t seen in the whole time you’ve been together. His gaze has been empty, closed off to anything and everything. But now, his eyes are crinkling at the corners, there’s an easy smile on his face that you can’t miss. 

“Ah, she was fucking feisty. And strong, she was so strong. She was always a better hero than I was. She lived for that shit,” he trails off and shakes his head. You can see you’re losing him and you don’t want this to end. You’re in your own little bubble right now, getting to pretend there’s a version of you out there somewhere that actually lived up to her potential. 

“Her powers,” you blurt out, desperate for something to stop him from retreating back into his mind. “Did she have, um, good control over them?”

Logan nods, eyes darting down to the bottle of whiskey before flickering back up to meet your gaze again. “Yeah, Charles trained her, she was right up there with Jean. She could have,” he stops and suddenly you feel guilty for making him talk about this. You can see the tears in the corner of his eyes, the way the whites of them go red. “She could have been great.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I didn’t mean to pry.” But you did. You were being selfish and forcing him to talk about it even though you knew it would hurt him. 

“Look, kid, she would have liked you. I’ll tell you that much,” he says reluctantly. Like the words hurt to force out. You suppose he isn’t used to being genuine with anyone. 

You shake your head and look down at your hands. “I appreciate the thought, but I doubt it.”

Logan grabs the bottle again, gulping it down like it's water. His words have a slight slur to them as he speaks again. “I think I would know, bub. ‘Sides, you made it into the X-Men, tells me what I need to know.”

You scoff and fix him with a sardonic look, he raises his brows in question and you roll your eyes. “They’ll take fucking anybody. And I still wasn’t good enough for them.”

Logan shakes his head and frowns. “If what I saw in there,” he points back to the den and you feel your cheeks warm as you remember what you’d done, “is any indication, then I’m sure you were plenty good.”

You lean towards him, elbows braced on your knees. He follows suit, leaning so close you almost want to back up. The proximity flusters you slightly but you shake the feeling off. “You don’t even know me and the first real thing you said to me was that I’d be more useful as fertilizer.”

He sighs, face screwing up at your harsh words. He runs a hand over his cheeks and groans, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You lean back in your chair and idly twirl your hand through the air. The leaves around you lift up and flutter through the air above your head. Logan watches and you turn back to him, waiting until his eyes meet yours to speak again. “Yes, you did. And you were right. I’m fucking useless, powers or not.” The leaves drop, a few fluttering into the fire. “We’re irrelevant, Wolverine, two washed-up X-Men who never looked good in the uniform.”

There’s a twinge of hurt on his face but you can’t make yourself feel bad about it. Since he’s such a fan of brutal truth, you’re sure he can handle it. 

You watch as the leaves curl up at the corners, the fire burning them straight through the middle. You get to your feet and move past him. You’re nearly back to the den when he calls, “The suit looks right on you,” over his shoulder.

You pause at the threshold of the door. He’s already drinking again, staring into the fire and watching it burn. You take a few steps towards him, staring at his broad back. “What happened to her, your me?”

Logan looks down at his hands, his ring finger specifically. You wonder at the significance of the movement, what exactly you’d meant to him. “She married me,” he mutters, voice cold and closed off again. 

“Goodnight, Logan,” you whisper, finally walking inside the den. 

You miss the small goodnight he sends back to you, finally turning around only to watch you leave. 

There had been a very clear plan set in place. Get Juggernaut’s helmet, put it on Cassandra, and then kill that psychotic bitch. Which is why you’re so confused when you’re standing knee-deep in guts and watching Logan and Wade leap through a portal above you. 

You don’t have time to feel angry or even hurt that they left without you. Laura is grabbing your arm and you’re both running for your life, trying to escape Alioth again. You run into Cassandra’s lair ducking into one of the rooms and dragging Laura with you. 

You’re both holding your breaths and praying that he’s sated by the others still outside. After a few minutes, the cracks of thunder stop and you risk peeking your head outside. The clouds have retreated back to their usual spot in the middle of the void. 

You take in the carnage of Cassandra’s evil lair. Most everybody is dead. You only have to skirt around a few people to get back to the Odyssey. 

You throw yourself in the driver’s seat and sink back against the bloodstained cushions. You let out a relieved breath and look at Laura, “What do you do to entertain yourself around here?”

You acclimated to the idea of being stuck in the void pretty quickly. There wasn’t exactly a lot waiting for you back home. Besides, Laura was nice enough. You had food, beer, and company. You didn’t really need much else. 

You’re pretty sure if you linger too long on the thought that Wade left you behind you’ll fall into a depression that you’re never going to be able to claw your way out of. So, you forced a smile on your face and played cards. Nothing else to do but wait to die of old age or for Alioth to kill you. 

Of course, your plans had to be ruined. There was an odd rush of air against your back and then a slight whoosh. Laura glanced over your shoulders and her brows furrowed, you turned around to find three armored men waiting behind you. 

“Flux,” the man glanced from you to Laura, “X-23?”

“Laura,” you both correct at the same time. 

The man gives an aggrieved sigh and holds his arm out, “Come with me, please.”

You stand up, energy tingling in the palms of your hands while you regard them suspiciously. Laura comes up behind you, claws out and glaring at them. “Why should we?” You demand. 

Barely a second later you hear the most insufferable voice in the world. “Hiya, peanut!” 

“Wade,” you hiss. You follow the armored men through an oddly shaped portal and find Wade standing beside a shirtless Logan, smiling proudly at you. “You fucking left me,” you hold up your hands and his eyes widen. 

His hands quickly come up, trying to assuage you, “Hold on now-”

You throw him back, his body hurtling into a nearby building and caving in the wall. Logan watches it happen with a small smile, “Been wanting to do that for a while.” 

Once Wade had recovered he filled you in on everything that happened. TVA did a general clean up and then you were standing in front of your apartment door, keys in hand like nothing had happened. 

It was so bizarre, going from a mission to save your timeline and then you’re expected to just go about your life. You stay standing in that hallway for you don’t know how long before you hear someone behind you. 

You jump and drop your keys when Logan clears his throat. “Shit,” you hiss, whirling around and glaring at him while your heart races. He chuckles and bends over to grab your keys for you. 

“Sorry,” he mutters. This is the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him, covered in blood and in a borrowed shirt. “Uh, Wade doesn’t have enough room at his place. Told me I should come over here.”

You look over his shoulder and see Wade peeking his head out of his doorway. He catches your eye, sending you a thumbs up. You almost smile but then he makes a phallic gesture with his hands, pointing at Logan and humping the air. You glare at him and he quickly backs into his apartment, but not before sending you one last encouraging shit-eating grin. 

You look back at Logan and he’s waiting expectantly for your answer. “Yeah,” you take your keys from him and unlock the door. “I’ve got a spare room but there’s no bed in it right now.” Your eyes widen when you see the mess that is your apartment. 

You quickly rush through, picking up empty take-out boxes and dirty laundry and shoving them into your room. He’s smiling at you when you come back and it's slightly off-putting. “Um,” you gesture towards the couch awkwardly. “You can take the sofa tonight and we’ll look at setting you up with something more permanent tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” he hovers by the armrest and you engage in the longest stare-off of your life. Neither of you says anything for a few suffocating moments before he gestures at himself. “Shower?”

“Oh,” you snap out of your stupor and nod your head. “Yeah, right, of course.” You show him down the hall, “Here. I’ll go get you a towel.”

You rush towards your linen closet, leaving him behind in your bathroom. You grab a few clean towels and then figure he might want some clothes as well. You grab some pajamas that Wade’s left over when he’s crashed before. They’ll probably be a bit tighter on Logan, but you wouldn’t mind seeing that. 

You walk back to the bathroom and the thought of knocking doesn’t even run through your head. It should, honestly, but you’re already so thrown off by him even being here. You walk in and immediately gasp and drop the towels. 

“Oh, I'm sorry. I’m so sorry.” He’s standing naked before you. Clothes discarded on the floor behind him. Everything on perfect display. Your eyes land on his abs, noticing a few prominent veins leading down-

You cover your face and turn around. “Sorry,” you mutter again. God, you’re such an idiot. You still haven’t even left. You’d just been shamelessly ogling the man naked and you don’t even have the decency to walk out. 

You really can’t help it though. It’s been such a clusterfuck, the last 72 hours. Your brain is fried and Wade’s little show hasn’t helped you at all.  

You hear Logan laugh behind you. “It’s alright,” he mutters. Something warm ghosts across your arm and you jump slightly. His hand firmly grasps your bicep, gently tugging your palms away from your face. 

You risk a glance over your shoulder and nearly gasp at how close he’s gotten. He's towering over you, something in his face you can’t place. “It’s alright,” he whispers again and you find yourself nodding without really thinking. 

He’s got both hands on your arms now, trailing up and down. The touch is so featherlight you can barely feel it at all. You don’t even realize how he’s gently coaxing you closer until you trip on the towels at your feet. 

You startle, looking down at them and moving to kick them aside. But he stops you, his finger nudging your chip up so you’ll look at him again. There is such blatant want painted across his face that it makes your heart skip a beat. Your breath catches in your throat when he wraps an arm around your waist and drags you closer. 

You can feel all of him. You can feel just how much he wants you. It catches you off guard, this sudden display of attraction. You don’t know where it’s coming from, what’s brought it on. But you can’t find it in yourself to care. You’ve been so lonely for so long. You just want to bask in the fact that he looks absolutely starved for you. 

No man has ever looked at you with such heartbreakingly yearning eyes - like he’s been looking for you his whole life. He dips down, lips ghosting gently over yours. Your breaths mingle together, you can nearly taste him. 

It’s unclear which one of you moves first, who pushes closer to the other. But it doesn’t matter because the second you put real pressure behind the kiss he’s all over you. One of his hands drifts down to your ass, squeezing the flesh there and dragging you closer, grinding his hips into yours. 

You moan at the feeling, your arms wrap around his neck and you press yourself even closer. He groans against your lips at the first swipe of your tongue. You part with a gasp when he picks you up, practically tossing you onto your sink. Your legs spread instinctually, making room for him as he slots himself between them. 

It’s odd, feeling so vulnerable even when he’s the one who's completely naked. It still feels like he’s holding all the power. 

His lips are moving frantically over yours like he’s terrified you’re going to disappear the second he lets go. You can taste something desperate on his tongue. Something deeply rooted inside him that you can’t identify. 

One of your hands drifts from his neck, trailing over the muscles of his chest. Your fingers carve a path down his abs, relishing in how muscular he feels under your palm. Your hand reaches his pelvis, nearly wrapped around him when he jumps back. 

He grabs your wrist in a grip so tight you know there’s going to be a bruise. A pained gasp slips out and he releases you immediately. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “Sorry, I can’t.” He won’t look at you now, backing up towards the shower and shaking his head. “This was a bad idea, I can’t do this.”

You shake your head, slipping off the sink and hiding your bruised wrist behind your back. “No, sorry, I shouldn’t have moved so fast.”

You feel too ashamed to meet his eye. He kissed you but you feel like you’ve forced yourself on him somehow. It’s a nauseating feeling and you want nothing more than to run back to your room and hide. 

He takes a step towards you, something pained on his face. “Kid-”

You just shake your head, step out of the bathroom, and grab the handle of the door. “Sorry,” you whisper again, closing the door behind you. You lean against the cool wood, trying to catch your breath. 

Your hand drifts up to your lips, still tingling from how desperately he’d kissed you. It doesn’t make any sense. He came on to you, he threw you up on the sink, and made out with you more passionately than any man ever has before. So why are you the one who feels dirty?

You rush down the hall and into your room, slamming the door behind you. You dive under your covers, closing your eyes even though you know you won’t sleep. No, your shoulders are tensed up to your ears and your bones are vibrating with an energy you need to release. 

You’re completely tuned into the other person lurking in your apartment. You can hear as he starts the shower, how he talks quietly to himself sometimes. Then when he gets out you can perfectly picture what he looks like while he’s getting dressed and it only makes you feel worse. 

You listen as he leaves the bathroom and pauses in the hall. You can see it in your mind’s eye, how he stares at your door. He walks towards it and lingers for a minute before cussing quietly and heading back into the living room. 

You suddenly remember that you didn’t lay sheets out on the couch for him. You feel guilty, but there’s not one part of you that will be dragged from this bed and face him. Not now, at least. 

He’s up for a little while longer, getting water. Turning the TV on and off. Rooting through your cabinets looking for booze you know you don’t have. Finally, he settles on the couch. You’re awake for another hour, unable to relax until you’re completely sure he’s asleep. Even as you drift off and your body finally relaxes your mind doesn’t. You keep seeing that stricken look on his face and it makes you sick to your stomach. 

It’s the smell of pancakes that wakes you up. You’re not sure when you finally managed to pass out last night but you know it was late. Which is why you’re so pissed off that you’re being forced to get up at seven in the morning. 

You’re used to being able to sleep in a lot later than that. You’re already in a pissy mood from last night and it only gets worse as you trudge around your room getting ready. You’ve never been more thankful to have snagged one of the rare two-bathroom apartments in the building.

You don’t want to have to share a bathroom with Logan. You don’t even want to use the other one after what happened last night. It’s too embarrassing and painful to think about. The emotional whiplash of feeling so desired and then absolutely hideous is making your head spin. 

You’re sure it was all just a problem on his end, but it really doesn’t make you feel any better. When you can’t stall any longer, and you know that Logan has heard you get up, you slip quietly out of your room. 

The curtains in your living room are open and he’s in the kitchen fucking around with your stove. The news is playing quietly on the TV and you’re astounded about how little he’s done and how much more homely your apartment feels. 

It’s never really been home to you. Not after you were booted from the X-Men. But he’s somehow made it ten times cozier than it ever has been. You almost resent him a little for it. 

“Morning,” he grumbles from the kitchen. “Coffee,” he motions behind him and you see a steaming cup already waiting for you. You silently slip behind him, grabbing the creamer from the fridge and pouring it until you’re sure it’s sweet enough to not actually taste the coffee. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, moving to sit at the table. You keep your eyes trained on the TV, pretending to pay attention to the news so you don’t have to look at him. He bores his eyes into the side of your head until you feel like you’re going to have holes in your temple. 

When you can’t take it anymore you finally look over at him. He doesn’t smile, his face barely even twitches, he just looks back to his pan and continues scrambling some eggs. “Didn’t know you cooked,” you offer up weakly, already growing anxious from the silence. 

It feels wrong, to be walking on eggshells in your own apartment. He grunts and shrugs, “Not really cooking. You had the mix in your pantry,” he tells you brusquely. His tone borders on rude and you scoff. 

The audacity of this man to have an attitude with you in your apartment. He was the one who threw a hissy fit last night. You roll your eyes and go back to the news, all it tells you is that the world is just as depressing as the inside of your apartment is right now. 

You notice out of the corner of your eye the way his shoulders slump forward. He leans against the oven, seeming not to care if he burns himself. You suppose it doesn’t matter, he’d just heal. “Sorry,” he mutters. It sounds like it pains him to say the words. 

“Whatever,” you mumble under your breath. You take a long sip of your coffee, slurping a little so you have something to fill the atmosphere. 

He puts some food on a plate and brings it over to the table for you. You usually don’t eat breakfast, preferring to just skip the meal and eat a bigger lunch. But it feels too bitchy to say that to him, so you just accept the food with a strained smile. “Thanks.”

He sits across from you, glaring down at your table like it insulted him. You drag your fork against the plate, letting the scrape of metal against porcelain drown out your worries. Finally, he looks at you. “Look, about last night.”

You tense up. You want to interrupt him, to stop him from explaining. You know it’s just going to hurt your feelings, whatever he says. Whether he tells you it was a mistake or he just realized he’s not attracted to you, either way, you’re fucked. But, it’s also kept you up all night so you just shut your mouth and let him speak. 

You keep your gaze trained on your plate, unable to fully face him. He lets out a long sigh and clenches his fork so tight you hear the metal bend. He drops it to the table and clenches and unclenches his fists a few times. 

“I just couldn’t kiss you, not when I wasn’t doing it for the right reasons.”

Your brows furrow in confusion and you finally look up at him. “What?” You demand, disbelief coloring your voice. 

His eyes are boring into yours, an intensity behind the stare that leaves you feeling a little shaken. “You look like her,” he whispers, and the grief is so thick in his voice it makes your throat tighten. He pauses briefly before continuing. “There are,” he clears his throat like he’s trying not to cry. It makes you lean back in your chair, arms crossed over your stomach uncomfortably. 

“There are a few differences, obviously. You’re not a carbon copy. But your mannerisms, your attitudes, you’re so similar. And I,” he shakes his head and gives you one of the most genuinely apologetic looks you’ve ever received. You can tell he really does feel guilty for projecting on you but it doesn’t make you feel any less uncomfortable. “And I just wasn’t doing that for the right reasons. I was pretending you were her and that’s just not fair to you.”

You lean your elbows on the table, head falling into your hands. You let out a rough sigh and groan in irritation. You knew the reason would hurt but you didn’t think it would be this bad. You feel gross, icky under your skin knowing that he was pretending you were another version of yourself. The version of yourself you’ve always wanted to be; the hero. 

But you also feel such a deep sadness and sympathy for him. He’d briefly mentioned that he was married to this other you. You can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like, to see your dead wife’s face staring at you and she doesn’t even know you. 

“I,” you don’t even know where to begin. You struggle to say anything for a minute and you both just stew in the tense silence. You take in a deep breath and look up at him. You do what you always do, forcing a smile and shrugging it off. “I appreciate the honesty, really.” You stand up, bringing your still-full plate into the kitchen and busying yourself with cleaning up. 

“Clearly,” you snap, your voice crueler than it should be, “It was a mistake. We’ll just have to make sure it doesn’t happen again, right?”

Logan sits silently at the table. He looks like there’s more he wants to say but you don’t give him the chance. You can’t take it. You finally thought someone had wanted you for you, flaws and all. You’re a fucking idiot, he barely even knows you. Whatever connection you thought was there was just brought about by your own loneliness. 

“I gotta get ready for work,” you tell his back because he isn’t looking at you now. 

He nods, scraping his fork across the plate as he aggressively cuts into his food. “Right.” You wait for him to say anything else but he doesn’t. 

You walk past him and head back to your room. You don’t even have a job, you don’t have to work. But you still grab your purse and head out of the apartment. Pretending you do just so you don’t have to look at him anymore. 

You really should have let him finish, though. You should have let him keep talking to you. Let him explain how as much as he sees her in you, that’s not why he wants you. He wants you for you. Because as similar as you can be, you’re still a completely different person from who his late wife was. You’re someone strong and incredible and he genuinely wants you. But he can never really let himself be happy. 

It takes a few days for you both to ease up around the other. The incident in the bathroom is never brought up again. You take him shopping for clothes after a few days. It feels wrong to keep giving him Wade’s hand-me-downs. You would have had your friend take him, but you don’t trust Wade’s sense of fashion at all. 

After that and getting lunch together while you were out shopping things got a little easier. You bought him a bed for the spare room because you felt guilty seeing him all cramped up on your tiny couch. 

You don’t initiate any physical contact with each other. The closest you’d gotten was your hands brushing when you both reached for some popcorn at the same time on movie night. But you hadn’t really minded that bad. 

Eventually, he starts to feel like a real roommate and a friend. He lets little pieces of himself slip out. Slowly opens up about his past. You haven’t made any existential discoveries of course. But he tells you stories of what his X-Men were like. 

You try not to dance around the topic of his wife, you don’t want him to think you’re avoiding asking about her. But you also don’t want him to think you’re obsessed with discussing her. 

He’s right, you two weren’t carbon copies of each other at all. You might share a few things in common but the more both you and Logan learn about each other, the more clear it is how different you both are from your variants. 

Sometimes you think he looks at you like he’s really seeing you, not her. But you can never be sure and you don’t want to put much strength behind the thought in case you’re wrong. You hate the idea that when you’re thinking of nothing but him, he’s just seeing her reflection on your face. 

There’s nothing you can do about it but it doesn’t stop the hurt. 

Tonight, at Wade’s suggestion, you’re both up on the roof waiting for a meteor shower that you’re ninety percent sure is never going to happen. You’re also one hundred percent sure that Wade just tricked you out of your apartment so he could have sex in it. He and Vanessa don’t really get a lot of time alone with Blind Al around. You’re already mentally preparing for the absolute fuck storm you’re going to have to clean up after.  

There’s a light nudge on your shoulder and you glance over at Logan. He’s got the whiskey bottle outstretched towards you and you take it from him with a smile. One thing about being his roommate, your alcohol tolerance has skyrocketed. His liver might regenerate, but you’re pretty sure if you keep going down this route yours will give out in a few months. 

“Think this is actually going to happen?” You ask, pointing up toward the clear night sky. 

Logan chuckles and shakes his head. He stretches out in your flimsy lawn chair and you try not to let your gaze be drawn to the sliver of skin peeking out from his shirt. “Probably not, but I don’t mind being out here.”

There’s an unspoken, with you, that makes you smile. You meet his gaze, his eyes soft as he watches you. “Me either.” You lean back in your chair, pulling your legs up onto the seat and huddling under your blanket. “It’s peaceful.”

You drink together in silence for a little while longer. Then you have to tap out, you don’t want your brain getting too foggy. Tonight is nice, you want to remember it tomorrow. To your surprise, he caps the bottle and places it to the side. You don’t mention it but you do feel like you’ve noticed he’s been drinking a little less. The dark circles under his eyes seem to be easing away ever so slightly. 

He looks over at you with an odd light in his eyes. You shift uncomfortably under his stare when it lasts a little longer than it usually does. You chuckle awkwardly, “Do I have something on my face?”

There’s a soft uptick to his lips as he shakes his head. “No,” he mutters, looking back out at the night. “You mind if I ask you something?”

Ominous, but whatever. “Sure.”

He still doesn’t look at you and you worry slightly about whatever it is he’s going to ask. He doesn’t ease you into it all, “Wade said your brain was broken?” A laugh springs out of your throat from how brusque that was. He rolls his eyes. “Fuckin’ idiot mentioned it in the void, been wonderin’ about it.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him. You’re relaxed enough that you don’t mind answering. You don’t want to pop the soft bubble you’ve managed to create around each other. “Here,” you hold your hand out for the whiskey bottle. He gives you an apprehensive look before handing it over. 

You unscrew the cap, “This,” you say and point your hand at the glass. The liquid inside lifts into the air and you freeze it before dropping it back into the bottle with a splash, a simple little party trick. “This used to be enough to put me in a coma for two days. That’s what he meant. Something happened to me and I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

Logan’s eyes widen and he shakes his head in disbelief. You laugh a little, “I assume your wife never had problems like that?”

There’s always a fond smile when you mention his wife. Whether the memory is bittersweet or not. “She wasn’t perfect, much as I thought so. When she used her powers too much she,” he trails off and looks down at the floor. You frown, ducking your head down so you can catch his gaze. 

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” you promise quietly.

But he shakes his head and gives you a weak, tight-lipped smile. “No, I want to. And I don’t want you to think you’re the only Flux who struggled. When she used her powers too much she would deteriorate. Parts of her would just disappear, I don’t even know how to describe it. They were destroying her from the inside out.”

You let out a low whistle, eyes widening slightly. “Well, maybe I didn't get the short end of the stick after all.” It’s quiet and for a moment you worry your humor was ill-timed. 

But he lets out a rough laugh, “No, I guess not.” He takes in a deep breath before looking back up at you. There’s no distant sadness in his eyes like there usually is when you bring her up. It seems to only be a familiar ache now, rather than something fresh and bleeding. “But what happened to you? Why couldn’t you use your powers?”

“Oh,” you look down at your lap, picking at the strings of your pants. It would be unfair to have him talk about his wife and then wimp out when it was your turn. 

“Um, There was this mission. A bunch of kids, mutants, were being held in this warehouse. It was actually pretty normal, just go in, retrieve them, and bring them back to safety. I must have done a dozen of these before, but, I don’t know. Something was this different this time around.”

You can still hear them screaming. In your mind, you hear the way they cried for help. And you see the look on your faces when they realize you can’t save them every time you go to sleep. 

You suck in a sharp breath and almost jump when his hand lands on yours. It’s gentle, he’s barely even touching you and he’s not even acknowledging what he’s doing. But you take his hand in yours and squeeze, it’s nice, grounding. 

“Long story short, they were heavily guarded and I was pretty drained from fighting off the guards. My powers were practically gone by the time we could even get to the kids. And, I don’t know, something must have gotten knocked over or hit the wrong way because smoke was filling the place and everything was on fire. I couldn’t see anything, couldn’t breathe, and the kids were blocked off. There was nothing we could do to get to them. Everyone kept screaming at me, telling me to just use my abilities and get them out of there. I couldn’t,” your voice gets thick and you look anywhere but at him. “I,” your mouth hangs open and you don’t know what you could possibly say. 

There’s no excuse for what happened. “I just couldn’t,” you whisper. You sniffle and your eyes flutter rapidly, trying to stop any tears from coming. “Hadn’t been able to use my powers since then. Trauma block or something, I guess,” you dismiss yourself flippantly and shrug. 

Logan just squeezes your hand again. He doesn’t seem to know what to say to comfort you and you’re honestly grateful for the silence. You get so sick of people telling you there was nothing you could have done. Or that the others should have helped you. Because that’s not a fucking excuse. There’s no fixing what happened, no giving those parents their children back. You fucked up and you don’t appreciate people giving you cop-outs. 

You keep your gaze trained steadily on the ground, eyes going blurry while you try to slip into the back of your mind. You don’t get the chance, though. Logan is kneeling in front of you, hands slipping up your arms to cup your face. 

He forces you to look at him, to stay present in the moment with him. “You fucked up,” he tells you. It's so shocking that you can’t help but let out a loud wet laugh. You sniffle and he grins, wiping the tears out from under your eyes. His grip on your cheeks tightens and he makes sure you’re listening as he speaks, “You fucked up, kid. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t try your fucking hardest. And it doesn’t erase all the people you did help.”

Your eyes search him, trying to find any kernel of untruth. Trying to prove to yourself that this isn’t real. That he isn’t real. You don’t deserve this moment of such unwavering trust and faith. This is meant for someone else, for someone who deserves good things in life. 

You’ve never truly believed you deserved happiness or peace like this. But right now you don’t care because he is saying everything you’ve ever wanted to hear. And he actually means it. 

Your hand drifts up, covering his and tilting your head to press a gentle kiss to his palm. It’s tentative, a test, a way to give him an out if doesn’t want this. His grip on you tightens for half a second before he shoots forward and claims your lips with his own. 

It escalates quickly. You practically melt off your chair, straddling his lap while he leans back on the ground. Your hands tug at his hair while he moves desperately over your body. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to do, where he wants to touch you. 

You love how fully his hands engulf you, the tight way they cradle you to his chest. You’ve never felt more secure in someone’s arms than you do right now. He’s got you, and he wants you. For you this time, you can tell. You can tell from the way he holds you that this isn’t a desperation born from grief. It’s something else, something you’re not ready to identify yet. 

His tongue laves across the seam of your lips, silently asking permission. You smile against the kiss, parting your lips and deepening it. He licks into you, tasting you with a low grunt in the back of his throat. You feel your hips start to move of their own volition. Gently grinding down against his lap. You moan when you feel just how bad he wants you. 

You lean back, parting from the kiss and pressing a finger to his chest to keep from following. You chuckle at his eagerness, grinding your hips down again and watching the way he thrusts up to meet your movement. “Didn’t know I was such a good kisser,” you tease. 

But he doesn’t return the joke or play along. His face falls slightly and he pulls further away from you, the look on his face distant. “What?” You whisper. “Do I have bad breath?” You joke, trying to keep the mood light. 

He shakes his head and runs a tired hand over his face. “No,” he mutters. He repeats the word more firmly and finally meets your gaze. “I think I need to take this slow, just because of…”

He trails off but you know what he means. His wife. You don’t know if he’s still projecting her onto you, you felt so sure he wasn’t earlier. But if every time you kiss he’s gonna pull back you’re not sure that you can do this. “Of course,” you mutter with a bite to your voice. It’s hard not to feel a little rejected every time he acts like this. 

You move to get off his lap but his hands clamp down on your hips and he shakes his head again. “You don’t have to get up.”

You hesitate, thighs still hovering over his. You should get up and put as much space between you as possible. But he’s so warm and you want to be held for a little while more. You nod and he looks relieved. You lean back down, pressing your chest against his and letting your head rest in the crook of his neck. 

He wraps a heavy arm around your back, keeping you close while the other reaches up to stroke your hair. It makes you feel small, in a good way. Like you can just relax and he’ll take care of you. 

“Goddamn,” he laughs a little and you sit up. He nods to the sky above and you turn around, gasping. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, “he wasn’t lying.” For once, Wade was telling the truth. Above you, it looks like the sky is falling. Glittering stars dart across the sky, streaks of blue following behind them. You grin, “It’s so beautiful.”

Logan keeps his eyes on you and nods, “Yeah, it is.”

“Ah, look, my favorite fuck buddies.”

”Wade,” you greet tightly. You shove the bottle of wine you brought into his chest and he stumbles back. “Just let us in, you freak.”

He frowns, placing a hand over his heart. “You know, it really hurts when you talk like that. I think we all need to hold hands and have a good old-fashioned jerk circle.”

You roll your eyes and flick his thick forehead. “It’s share circle, dumbass.”

”Not the way I do it,” he moves to the side and lets you both in. “Well, mi casa es su casa, especially since Vanessa and I had rockin’ sex in your bed last week.”

He walks off before you can hit him or even begin to respond to that. “I fucking knew it,” you hiss, glaring at his stupid Hawaiian shirt while he mingles with the rest of the people at the party. 

Logan chuckles behind you, “How did you two ever become friends?”

You roll your eyes and turn to face him. “I moved in next door,” you respond dryly. “This was a nonconsensual friendship because god hates me, clearly.” You shrug your jacket off and he takes it from you, hanging it up on the hook by the door. He comes back, slinging an arm around your shoulder, and leading you towards the kitchen. 

You hear Wade laughing loudly in the background and he grunts, “I’m gonna need a drink for this,” he mutters. You nod your head in agreement. You don’t get very far, though, because without any warning Wade is in front of you. He’s got his ridiculous dog in his arms and shoves her in your face. You grimace and jump back. Logan abandons you and you narrow your eyes at his retreating back. Traitor

Wade says your name with disappointment. “You know, Mary Puppins is a part of my life now. As my best friend, you need to bond with her. I can’t have you two fighting like this.” He shoves the dog into your arms without any warning and you flinch away from her wandering tongue. 

“If this thing licks me, I’m putting her down,” you warn him gravely. 

He gasps and snatches her back. “You are no longer welcome in my home,” he tells you with a snotty huff. You roll your eyes and watch him go. When he’s out of sight your lips curl up in a grin and you glance at Logan. 

He’s by the sink, making himself a drink and taking a deep swig straight out of the bottle. You creep up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He smiles, hand coming down to gently hold your arm. “What’re you doing?”

”Come with me,” you whisper. You take his hand and lead him through the apartment. You both skirt around the partygoers, giving them vague greetings and waving them off when they give you odd looks. 

Logan leans down, lips brushing across your ear as he whispers, “Where are we going?” Your knees nearly give out when you hear that low tone of voice of his. You just shake your head and lead him down the hall. You can sniff out Wade’s room from the permeating stench of his axe body spray. 

You throw the door open and drag Logan inside behind you. His nose wrinkles up at the stiff socks littering the floor and the smell. Other than that, it’s relatively clean. You actually thought this would look so much worse. 

“Now,” Logan demands, “are you gonna tell me what we’re doing?”

“Well,” you lock the door and turn around with a devious grin. “Seeing as Wade has ruined my favorite sheets, I feel like we need to get him back somehow.” You glance around the room, trying to figure out something of his you want to destroy. 

You don’t hear Logan moving towards you. You’re too busy rooting through Wade’s desk and trying to find something good to shred up.  All you’re seeing is increasingly more disturbing porno mags. He has got a serious problem with pegging. You briefly wonder if you should set up an intervention or something for him. 

You nearly yelp when Logan’s hands grip your shoulders, whipping you around to face him. “I’ve got an idea of what we can do.” That’s your only warning before his lips cover your own. You melt into him immediately, hands fisting his shirt and dragging him closer. He grins against your lips, lifting you and placing you on the edge of Wade’s desk. 

“Mm,” you moan but shove his chest back and shake your head. “Wait,” you hop off the desk and take a seat on Wade’s bed instead. “There’s no point in this if we’re not on the bed.”

Logan shakes his head with an amused huff. He walks towards you but instead of taking a seat on the bed next to you like you'd expected, he kneels before you. Your brows furrow together and you frown. “Wait, what’re you doing?”

He gives you a gentle smile, hands coming up to rub gently over your thighs. The warmth of his palms soothes you almost immediately. “You trust me?” He asks, voice a low rumble against your chest. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. He nods encouragingly and leans forward, kissing you gently. There’s nothing expectant in this kiss. He’s doing it just to be close to you. Then you feel his hands drifting higher, fingers running over the buttons of your jeans. Your lips part, ready to ask him a question. But he just takes the chance to dip his tongue into your mouth, eagerly tasting you. You moan into it, not protesting when he presses you back into the bed. 

His fingers dip under the waistband of your jeans. You lift your hips to help him tug them the rest of the way down until they’re dropping to the floor quietly. You have a million questions dancing on the tip of your tongue but you can’t find it in yourself to actually voice any of them. You don’t want to break the moment. This is the first time he’s seemed comfortable going further than kissing and some heavy petting. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. Your hips jolt as he runs a thumb over the wet spot on your panties. “All this just from kissing?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his tone. You feel your face flush, cheeks warming when you realize he’s never actually seen just how much he affects you. “Relax,” he tells you, squeezing your thighs once before slipping a few lithe fingers under the band of your panties. 

He tugs them down, but the second he sets eyes on you he gets too impatient to take them off the rest of the way. They dangle off one ankle while he lifts your thighs, setting them on his shoulder and dipping down to press a gentle kiss against you. You gasp at the contact, head tilting back while you instinctually grind your hips up against him. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve actually been with anyone and you already know you’re going to cum embarrassingly quick because he fucking devours you. You’ve had boyfriends who liked to eat you out before, but this is something completely different. 

He drags his tongue over you, sucking on your clit like it’s his only true joy in life. You can’t even make noises, your jaw hanging slack while you cant your hips higher. He groans when you grind against his face, shaking his head and flicking his nose across your bud. You nearly come from the sight of him smiling against your cunt alone. You feel it building slowly, and it’s like your powers are swelling up along with your release. 

Wade’s knicknacks are floating off the shelves, some of them rotating in the air, others fluctuating between liquid and solid forms. You can’t control yourself, you’re barely aware of the chaos happening in the room around you. You just feel a warmth at the tips of your toes, swelling over your body, making your skin feel too tight. There’s little to no warning when you cum. He dips his tongue inside you and you let out a long moan, drenching his face. 

The sheets are soaking wet underneath you and you know you’ve ruined his shirt. You’ve never come that hard before and you would reflect on that more if he wasn’t still fucking eating you out. You think your brain is going to melt out of your ears, you're so overwhelmed by all the different sensations.

He dips his tongue into you, dragging out your orgasm and drinking as much of you down as he can. Your hips keep twitching, you’d be thrashing out of his hands if it wasn’t for the near brushing grip he has on your hips. “Fuck fuck fuck,” you reach down, grabbing his hair at the roots and tugging. He groans at the feeling, barely leaning an inch back. “No more,” you whisper, chest heaving. 

He smiles, palms smoothing across the skin of your thighs, “You okay?” 

“Mhm,” you hum weakly. Your head falls back against the bed with a dull thunk and you struggle to catch your breath. “Holy shit, where did you learn to do that?” He doesn’t answer, just laughs. You jump slightly when he presses a tender kiss on your thigh, every part of you oversensitive. 

He moves slowly up your body, hands dragging your shirt up until he’s pulling it over your head. He cups your cheeks, letting you recover while he kisses your cheeks and face. You laugh slightly at the feeling of his beard tickling you. 

You pull back, meeting his gaze for a long drawn-out moment before you lean forward to finally kiss him back. You can feel yourself slowly coming back into your body. Your limbs tingle back to life while you lazily make out with him. 

His hands drift down your chest, squeezing your breasts. You laugh against his lips, arching into his touch. You reach back, unclipping your bra and throwing it off somewhere in the room. In the far reaches of your mind, you make a mental note to take that when you go. You don’t want to think about what Wade would do with it if he found it. 

Logan pulls back from you and your lips tip down at the serious look he wears. Your fingers trace the lines of his face and you tilt your head in question. “What’s wrong?” You whisper. You’re completely naked before him and he’s still clothed, you don’t want him to leave now. 

He can’t keep doing this to you. He can’t keep forcing you into these vulnerable positions and then leaving. There’s only so much rejection you can take before you start to resent him for it. 

He tilts his head down, gaze dragging across your body appreciatively. He’s looking at you like you’re art and it makes you feel like you should be in a museum somewhere. Finally, his hand drags down from your chest, wrapping around your waist and dragging you onto his lap. 

You brace your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. He leans towards you, lips trailing lightly across your jaw. “You’re not her,” he whispers against your skin. Your mouth parts, a pained breath slipping through. You try to move back from him. You hadn’t expected something like that, not now, not when you thought you’d made so much progress together. 

To have you naked, vulnerable like this, and then say something like that to you. It was fucking despicable. You shove his shoulders back but he barely moves. You shift, trying to cover yourself and fighting off the urge to cry. Why won’t he let you go? Why does he keep doing this to you? 

He reaches out, snatching up your wrist before you can get far. “I don’t want you to be. I never wanted you to be her, I need you to know that.”

He tries to kiss you but you snatch his jaw in your hand before he can. You let your nails dig in until there’s red blooming under your fingertips. He hisses, but he’s not mad, you can feel how much he enjoys the little pinpricks of pain. 

“No more pulling away,” you warn. “I’m not playing this damn game with you anymore, Logan. You want me, then commit.” You release him with a shove and his pupils dilate with want. You appreciate the gentle way he’s been treating you, but you know you’re both holding back. 

He’s the first partner you’ve been with that can actually take what you give and vice versa. There’s something only mutants understand sometimes. You normally have to hold back, have to make sure you don’t scare a guy off by making the walls shake when you come. 

You push him down onto the bed. Hands sliding under the hem of his shirt and running over the grooves of his muscles. You haven’t had a chance to appreciate just how gorgeous his body is before, but nothing is holding you back now. 

You snap your fingers and the buttons rip open, he surges forward catching your lips with his while you both frantically push his shirt off. He throws it off to the side and his fingers fumble with his belt buckle while you trail kisses down his neck. You glance up at him for a second before biting down on a particularly sensitive spot. 

He groans, head rolling back while you grin against his skin. You make your way back to his lips. “Don’t hold back,” you tell him, trailing your hands down to his fists and running over the spots where the claws come out. 

“Sweetheart,” he starts tone apprehensive. You shake your head, shutting him up with a kiss. 

“Don’t. Hold. Back.”

It’s like a switch flipping. Even the way he looks at you changes. You’re not something to be cherished and adored. You feel like a deer pinned by a wolf. He’s got you in his clutches now and there’s a real possibility you might not survive this. 

He stands up, dropping you on the bed and dragging your hips off the edge. He doesn’t kick his jeans off, just lowers them enough for his cock to hang out. You’ll address the fact that he wasn’t wearing boxers later, you’re too worried about what’s hanging between his legs right now. 

You’re no virgin, but goddamn, there’s no way that’s going to fit. 

He laughs, the noise cruel and it makes shivers crawl down your spine. “We’ll make it work, kid.” He spreads your legs and you tilt your hips up, making it easier for him to just sip inside. 

There’s a slight stretch, but you’re already soaked for him. You’ve been waiting for this to happen since you walked in on him naked in your bathroom. “Oh, shit,” you toss your head back, taking in a deep breath while he pushes in. It feels like he’s rearranging your insides, molding you to fit him perfectly. 

You can already feel yourself clenching down, just being so close to him is enough to make that tingle in the tips of your toes start. He leans down, placing your legs over his elbows and rutting into you like a wild animal. There’s nothing gentle or slow about this. 

You’re both so pent-up, tired from the weeks of dancing around each other. Your nails drag up his back, blood following your movement. Your powers are actively surging against him, pain only driving you further into each other’s arms. 

You can hear his breathy grunts and groans in your ears and it’s music to you. Neither of you cares about the party going on just outside the door. You’re loud, skin slapping against skin while you loudly call out his name. 

God, you hope they hear you. Hope they realize just how thoroughly you’re wrecked for each other. You can feel yourself getting closer, hips stuttering against his while you struggle to match his pace. “Come on,” he mutters in your ear. He releases one of your legs to reach down and rub your clit. 

“Fuck,” you groan, reaching up and tugging at his hair while your back bows. It only takes a few more tight circles of his thumb before you’re spasming around him. He’s quick to follow behind you. 

He pins your hips to the bed, dropping your legs while he thrusts faster. He loses his rhythm, the muscles of his abdomen flexing as he cums inside you. It’s like a mini death, you feel like you’ve lost time when you finally manage to come back to yourself. 

And when you roll your head to the side you realize just how much damage you’ve done to Wade’s bed. “Shit,” You glance up at the sound of his voice and notice little droplets of blood on your hips. Logan’s claws are out, stuck in the fluff of the bed. 

You force the words out, tongue heavy in your mouth. “Do that often?”

“Not really,” he mutters. The claws retreat and he rubs his fingers over the blood. It’s not bad, you’ve honestly done worse to yourself. It’s like a big paper cut. When the rough pad of his fingers presses against the cut you hiss at the sting, nearly enjoying it. 

“Must be special,” you tell him with a cheeky grin. He shakes his head with a laugh and takes his time pulling out. You hate the loss of him inside you but it's a slight relief. He's larger than any partner you’ve ever had and it’s almost overwhelming to be so full. 

“Come on, let's get you dressed.” He pats your thighs, glancing around for your clothes. 

“Uh, Logan,” he looks up and you glance at his still very hard cock. “I thought you came?”

The smile he gives you is slightly terrifying. Because there’s a promise in it. He’s not getting you dressed for no reason. He’s taking you back to your apartment so you can have more fun where there are less people and fewer reminders of Wade. “Stamina's part of the deal, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you whisper, voice breathless in shock. You wipe the cum off your legs with Wade’s sheets. You feel like you’ve thoroughly gotten revenge on him for destroying your favorite bed set. Maybe, you’ve gone a little farther than revenge, though. 

You feel guilty, looking around the room and seeing everything you destroyed. Once you’re dressed, you wave your hand, putting most things back where they belong. But there’s nothing you can do about the bed. The sheets are soaked with a mixture of yours and Logan’s releases and there are six holes dug deep in the bed from his claws. 

When you step out of the room with Logan, struggling to press down your hair and get it back into place, Blind Al is waiting by the door. She’s doing a line off the back of her hand when you pass by. You think you’ve almost made it scott-free when she yells, “Man, I wish I couldn’t fucking hear,” at you. 

You tense up, shoulders to your ears while you run to the door. Logan laughs, grabbing your coat for you and pressing a hand to your back while he leads you to the apartment. “Weren’t feeling so embarrassed earlier,” he teases. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, dragging him into the apartment to finish what you couldn’t on Wade’s bed. 

You’ve managed to keep any holes out of your bed, you just have to use your powers to keep his at bay. It’s nice, not having to explain why everything around you is levitating to the person you’re having sex with. There were a lot of awkward conversations that came from that. 

You’re lying on Logan’s chest, fingers idly running over the veins in his biceps. “I want to be serious about this,” you tell him. 

His hand pauses from where it’d been stroking your back. You sit up on your elbow so you can get a better look at him. “I mean it, I,” there’s no way to say this without sounding like a complete bitch. You just have to rip the bandaid off. 

You take in a deep breath, “I know that you still miss her,” you say, unwilling to say her name. Logan sits up, looking more serious now. “But I don’t want to be with you if you think that I’m going to turn into her. Or if you think that I’m the last connection you have to her. I’m not her, Logan, and I'm never going to be her.”

You expect anger on his face or regret, maybe. But you don’t expect him to laugh at you. You roll your eyes, lips pursed while you wait for him to finish. He notices the pissy expression on your face and quiets down, but you still see a smile fighting on his lips. 

“I know you’re not her. You could not be more different” he tells you with a slight smirk, like there’s an inside joke you’re missing out on. “I was married to her for a long time and I loved her. But we had our time together. Now, I just want my time with you. You’re not her,” he leans forward, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “That’s why I want you.”

You feel your heart flutter in your chest and have to fight to keep a stupid grin off your face. “Okay,” you whisper. “Good, well as long as we’re on the same page,” you tell him, faux serious. He just rolls his eyes and pulls you back into his arms. 

You’re going to cuddle up beside him when you hear your phone going off like crazy on your nightstand. Your face pinches in confusion and you reach over to grab it. 

Wade

Did you fuckers have sex???

In my bed!!!!

And you didn’t invite me?!

….

Wade

Tell Logan I want his claws in me next

“Fuckin’ dumbass,” you mutter, throwing your phone somewhere on the bed. Logan laughs again, drawing you closer. 

a/n: i have a really weird tendency for masochism, idk what that’s about. I just feel like if you were having sex with this man, he’s taking you like a wild animal. also feel like I might be a one-hit wonder. the smut just wasn’t doing it for me this time guys nor was the angst, i’m disappointed in myself

I just don't think I did justice to his character in the movie, I might have made it too OOC/ if I did PLEASE let me know

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus ♡

[tarjapearce]

Lips anon! Had a tasty thought, imagine Ranchero Miguel and the Pastor's Daughter 😳

You are supposed be a sweet little cherry and you are, but behind barn doors you're getting bred by Miguel. You truly love each other, and you're ashamed of your lust, but he assures you that he's going to marry you. It's no lie. He's just going to pump a baby into you first ❤️

Jeeeesshhh. 🤤

VERY NSFW under the cut

More Ranchero Miguel here

----

When Miguel had arrived to your family's farm as a recommendation by a close friend of your dad, you couldn't believe how... easy it was to sin.

Your mother would often swat your head and reprimand you whenever your stare, lingered too much on him. Saying "No daughter of mine will be mingling with that boy." But you didn't care.

Not when he had popped your cherry in the barn. Strong and calloused hands had held you in place as his fat cock slid into you, condom wrapped a bit too tight around him. Riding you gently as he mumbled the sweetest things into your ear. He made sure to make it special.

Sometimes he'd tease you by working shirtless in the barn, he'd ride Agustín, A pure bred horse, hat snug on his head. Your friends would unabashedly stare at him.

"Señoritas" (Ladies)

He tipped his hat but you knew that smile on his face belonged to you only, your friends giggling and gushing over the fact you had such fine man, under your care.

You felt shame washing over you at the breathless petitions you made him.

"Use the rope!" He would. He would tie your hands above you in one of the posts as his girth rammed viciously into your tight and soaking pussy, only to leave it swollen, full of him and flushed by the constant slapping of his toned hips.

"Choke me" He'd squeeze his large hand that easily wrapped on your neck, cutting the air enough to pump his load inside a couple of times inside your greedy cunt.

"Dios mío, preciosa" He growled as you milked and squeezed him. He could feel every pulsation of your insides embracing him, trapping him.

But this time he was being particularly rough on you. The frustration of you not being swollen with his baby at this point made him to rile your legs up to his shoulders, spreading you, as his fat, cum leaking, thick cock sheathed on your pussy-sleeve

He covered your mouth as your hands fisted in tight balls on his chest, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes.

"No hagas mucho..." He growled as his hips smacked yours with such force it sent you bouncing underneath him, "Ruido" (Don't make too much noise)

Your mewls and grunts died on your mouth as he fucked you thoroughly.

"Te vas a ver tan chula con esta pancita redonda" (You'll look gorgeous with this round belly)

God, the thrill to have him all to yourself doing as you asked, only to be pampered later with such delicacy made your stomach flutter. Your mother would surely die out of a heart attack if she knew you were letting the farmboy she disliked so much, fill your little tight hole to the brim as many times as he saw fit. And your father, would surely want to shoot him for corrupting you.

"Ya quiero casarme contigo, chaparrita" (I already wanna marry you, baby)

Tears rolled down your cheeks as he didn't show any signs of stopping, at least not anytime soon. Pleasure borderline biting and overwhelming. In reality was, That Miguel only obliged at your wishes just to see your pretty, dolled up eyes rolling to the back for him and he alone.

"Pa' llenarte de hijos preciosos. Sólo mírate" (T'fill you with pretty children. Just look at you)

"So pretty and good f'me, yeah?" you nodded and your spine arched.

He was definitely fucking a baby into you tonight.

[obsessedwithceleste]

Flowers

soft! Mattheo Riddle x reader

Summary: You just wanted your boyfriend to buy you flowers. He got a bit confused along the way.

word count: 1.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

You’d never been the type of girl who particularly enjoyed flashy, grand gestures. In fact, the mere thought of all eyes on you as a boy professed his undying love for you made you want to toss yourself off of the astronomy tower. And yet, here you were, watching as Lorenzo Berkshire presented your best friend, Daphne Greengrass, with yet another huge bouquet of gorgeous flowers and wishing your own boyfriend would do the same.

You let out a soft sigh, glancing at your boyfriend whose arm was wrapped securely around your shoulders as the two of you lounged on the sofa in the library. Matteo wasn’t a bad boyfriend by any means. Really, you loved the way he showered you in attention, always eager to please. However, he wasn’t exactly up to speed when it came to romantic gestures. Normally you didn’t mind, but every girl wanted to be treated like a princess sometimes you supposed.

“Oh Enz, these are beautiful!” Daphne gushed, giving her boyfriend a peck on the lips as he smiled adoringly down at her.

“Anything for you love,” the boy replies easily, taking the seat next to her, and pulling her in so that she was leaning into him.

“Geez, get a bloody room would you?” Theodore complains as the two cozy up together.

You roll your eyes at your friend. “Shut it Theo, I think it’s sweet.” You then turn to your own boyfriend. “You know Matteo, Enz gets Daphne flowers every week. I wish you did that.”

Matteo’s eyebrows shoot up and he gives you a confused look.

“Really?” He asks.

You nod earnestly. “I think it’d be nice.”

Matteo gives you another concerned glance before shrugging his shoulders.

“Alright, love.” He says, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze.

You smile warmly at the boy, resting your head on his shoulder before continuing your reading for ancient runes.

“I’m proud of you for finally sticking up for yourself, y/n.” Daphne says, placing her bag down as she takes a seat next to you in the Great Hall.

“Oh? What chapter did we miss?” Pansy asks from across the table where she and Astoria sat.

You furrow your eyebrows, also confused as to where Daph was going with this.

“In the library this afternoon, y/n finally got on Matt’s case about how he never does anything romantic for her. I mean, you’ve been together for what? Almost a year? And I don’t think I’ve ever seen him bring you flowers. Not once!” Daphne says, filling her plate.

“Oh. I mean, I really don’t mind all that much to be honest. You and Enzo just always look so sweet, I thought it’d be nice for a change. I don’t really expect him to do it every week like Enzo does,” you reply.

“See, but it’s the principle of it all isn’t it? Of course I like the fact that Draco is constantly buying me random gifts, but I would be fine without them. It’s that he’s thinking of me, and taking a bit of time to go out of his way to show me that, yeah?” Astoria says.

You tilt your head, considering your friend’s words.

“I suppose I never thought of it like that,” you tell her.

“Well you should. The bloody bullshit we put up with dating those boys, buying us nice things is really the least they can do,” she replies.

You let out a snort, laughing at your friend’s candidness.

As if to illustrate her point, the rowdy laughter of the boys could be heard from the entrance as they made their way over to your table. You frown as Matteo takes his usual place beside you, seeing a fresh cut on his cheekbone.

“Matteo Bartholomew Riddle.” You sigh, reaching up to touch his face.

“Bartholomew? Bloody hell mate, I’d have to avada myself with a middle name like that,” Draco laughs, plopping down next to Astoria.

He doesn’t even flinch as your finger tips make contact with the cut, only sighing as he glares at Draco before looking down at you with his large puppy dog eyes.

“Fuck off Lucius. And you know that isn’t even my middle name, love,” he says, reaching across the table to steal a roll from Theo’s plate.

“Well you won’t tell me your real one, so I’ll continue making up ridiculous ones until then. Now what on earth did you get up to now, and how many days of detention did you get?”

Matteo frowns, jutting out his bottom lip at you.

“What makes you so sure I got a detention?”

You raise an unimpressed eyebrow at the boy.

“Three days. With McGonagall.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head and turn back to face Astoria whose face practically read ‘you see what I mean?’

“Man got into a scuffle with some Hufflepuff. Swear those yellow bastards look unassuming but they’re demons,” Theo says filling you and the other girls in.

Matteo glares at his friend.

“Snitch,” he mumbles, stuffing the roll into his mouth.

“Like she wasn’t going to find out anyway,” Theo replies, brushing him off.

Once again rolling your eyes at your boyfriend, you focus on finishing your meal, listening to the idle chatter of your friends as Matteo’s hand finds yours under the table.

By the following week, you had all but forgotten your request for your boyfriend to bring you flowers. When you saw Matteo enter the Great Hall with a large bouquet of assorted flowers however, a smile grew across your face. Then, your smile wavered slightly, growing into confusion as Matteo made his way to the other side of the table, tapping Daphne on the shoulder.

Daphne and Enzo look back at Matteo with utter confusion as your boyfriend thrusts the flowers towards your friend.

“Uh. Here.” He says awkwardly as the two stare up at him with bewilderment.

You blink once. Then twice before Daphne breaks the silence.

“Matteo, respectfully, what the fuck?” She asks.

“Look, I don’t know either. I’m just as confused as you are,” Matteo says, shrugging his shoulders helplessly.

You look incredulously between your boyfriend, the flowers, and finally Daphne before realization hits you and your head drops into your hand. This bloody idiot.

“Matteo. Love. When I said, Enzo brings Daphne flowers every week, you should too, I meant for me. As in, you should bring your girlfriend flowers too,” you say with exasperation. Lord help you.

Matteo’s mouth forms an ‘o’ before he smiles sheepishly at you, rounding the table and now thrusting the flowers towards you.

“For you, my lady,” he says proudly.

You let out a laugh, accepting the flowers as your boyfriend takes his seat next to you.

“Matt you are so lucky y/n puts up with your shit,” Daphne sighs, shaking her head fondly at the two of you.

“But also, ever try giving my girl flowers again and I’ll curse your bed. I know where you sleep.” Enzo adds.

“Yeah, yeah, I ain’t scared of you Berkshire you big softie.”

“I’ll Avada you.”

“I’d write you letters in Azkaban.” Daphne says sweetly as the boys continue to throw threats each other’s way.

You shake your head at your friend’s antics, smiling softly as your fingers grazed the soft petals of the flowers your boyfriend had finally presented you with.

“Thank you Matteo,” you say, briefly interrupting the boy’s loud chattering to place a kiss on your boyfriend’s cheek.

I know this is so short, but I’ve been wanting to write this scene for the longest time, and couldn’t find a way to fit it into a longer fic 🫠

[cu7ie]

BIMBOFICATION. ft. geto suguru

(>◡•́)— ★ authors note. IM BACK BITCHES. WITH THE HORNY SHIT AKAKKAKAKA . kinktober day one! masterpost here. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ content warnings. dumbification, reader is a bimbo - ditzy, hypersexual, huge airhead vibes be warned. they are obedient and listen to what geto tells them. reader wears feminine clothes, has a 'clit', and is referred to as a 'girl', no use of she/her (ahahaha i love gender things). cock sucking throat fucking all that nasty gluk gluk shit y'eard?

You’re not stupid.

Forgetful, yeah! Occasionally uneducated, of course. But dumb? You’d surmise that conclusion to be a bit of a stretch; despite how often you find yourself trying to convince people of the contrary.

It is typical of humans to forego their ‘common sense’ on occasion, though it never seems to be a problem when anyone else does it! When Gojo eats all his candy and doesn’t share with anyone at the party, it’s cool; but when you do that, you get all kinds of pushback: “What’s wrong with you?” Nothing! The chocolate was gonna melt if you didn’t do something about it! “What are we supposed to give to the trick or treaters now?” All the twizzlers you left behind, duh.

Shoko gave you a look and sipped her sake, Gojo’s pointed barks of laughter chasing you back to the comfort of the kitchen. There you see Geto; your boyfriend, whose presence settles amicably in the gaps of your expression when he looks up at you with that beckoning fondness. He crooks his fingers and you bound over quite thoughtlessly, much to his evident amusement. 

Despite how much you insisted on matching costumes, Geto struck out of his own accord, the fake knife accompanying his Ghostface costume down on the counter. The real knife he was using to cut up the peppers is set aside as he busies himself with the sink.

You’re wearing one of those sexy school uniforms. Mini bordering on microskirt, paired with a cute number that shows your midriff- the dip in your chest. Your gogo boots click noisily on the floor a little as you sidle up next to him.

Geto pats your head when you get close enough, hands damp after a fresh rinse, and you preen from the contact. “Hey babyyy!” You gush a little, setting down the rest of the candy on the counter. “Can you get me a bowl?” He tilts head at you a little, looks down at the bag a second.

“Babe, didn’t I tell you to get the big bag?” Geto asks and shuffles over to the cabinet as you wash your hands to pick up where he left off. “Yeah! I did, doesn’t it look big to you?” 

“Yeah… of course it does. But remember that conversation we had about eating things that aren’t yours?” He brings back the bowl, but also a sternness to his grin, which all of a sudden doesn’t meet his eye. “Well yeah Suguru!” You’re looking down now, cutting vegetables with sudden interest and precision, sweeping it up into little piles. “It's not like I'm stupid …” His figure lingers in your periphery as the words leave your lips, the air about him suddenly feeling … tense. 

Then his hand is on yours.

“Look at me honey.” He gives you a squeeze, and you go to look up on instinct. Hesitate. “What?” Your grip on the knife softens, and it soon clatters atop the cutting board. “What, I said.”

“I never said you were stupid.” Your eyes met his before you realized, and the indignant scowl you want to make shrivels up inside you like a dried cocoon. “You just have a hard time saying what you mean right?” He blinks owlishly at you. “I know you don’t wanna lie to me.” “But I’m not-” Geto interrupts with a shake of his head. “Maybe one time I could forgive you, but twice? To my face?” You feel the sun in your face, fire hot heat setting you ablaze with embarrassment, feigned ignorance. A nagging feeling to obey. “I… I..”

“You?” He chimes cloyingly. You stiffen your upper lip. Hone your resolve. 

“M’not lying! Now lemme go!” Your arm budges when he wants it to, so you’re not quite moving until a few agonizing seconds pass, when Suguru lets out a low whistle and sigh, shaking his head at you dismissively, before you’re allowed to resume cutting vegetables. He dumps the candy into the rest of the bowl and takes his leave, chattering with his friends in the living room before coming back, empty handed.

The silence is maddening. He comes back, shuffles around the kitchen, then stops somewhere just beyond your sight, and craning your neck to look back at him would beckon his scrutiny. So you refrain. Stir fry the vegetables, and refrain. Feel a bead of sweat crest on your forehead and slide down your cheek from the heat. Refrain.

The breath against your neck is sudden and swift as Suguru fixes himself behind you, knocking  his head gently against yours as a grasping hand slides over your stomach.  He goes for the gas on the stove before you can get a protest out, his other hand teasing the rim of your skirt, smoothing down a short pleat till his palm can grope your thigh.

“After a little deliberation … I’ve decided I forgive you. For the lying.” His fingers dimple the skin he touches, sliding ever so slowly under the fabric. “Because I know you’re not a silly girl. You can be quite attentive when you want to be, can’t you?” 

“Yeah… yeah I can.” Your breath quickens a little as you press your ass back into the thin fabric of his hood, the feeling of his cock growing to hardness making you quiver with anticipation. His right hand on your thigh stills, tracing around your side and to your hip - growing stiff and heavy. The left dips boldly under your costume, a finger or two stalling in the spot right above your clit.

“Gojo and Shoko offered to get more candy - I can finish cooking after we’re finished here.” His lips press teasingly against the shell of your ear, and your resistance dwindles a bit. “Right now, all I want from you is a favor.” “Favor? I can do that - I can..” Geto chuckles. “I know you can sweetheart. Shh, sh. It’s my turn to do the talking now, okay? Listen.” You nod sharply. 

“Turn around.” You do. In an instant, stretching out your spine cat-like to press your chest up against him, your nipples hardening like pebbles beneath your blouse. You close your eyes and lean in for the kiss that should be inevitable - but no warmth meets your lips. Instead, an apathetic gloved finger. “Mmph?” Your confusion is apparent. You blink your eyes open and are greeted by a wry smile.

“Sometimes I wonder why it’s so hard for you to just listen. Then it came to me - an epiphany. Little girls like you just have a certain kind of skill set. Forgive me, okay? I just wasn’t giving you the right direction. But it’s okay! It’ll never happen again.” With those words, his expression grows less compromising - resolute, grim, determined. Almost makes you want to leap out of your skin - the fright of him not being happy with you bearing down greatly on your mind.

His hands come up to your shoulders and apply downward pressure. “On your knees.” 

You follow without hesitation.

His mirth wrinkles the corners of his eyes as you squirm down there. The floor is cold and your knees are getting dirty, and he knows that stupid look you make when you’re thinking to complain; though he’s never seen this level of restraint from you before. You’re quiet as you dig your fingers into your skin, and he knows he’s proud.

“Good girl.” Something blossoms in your chest when he says that, profound yet airy, a lightheadedness emblazoned into your forehead while the blood settles in your cheeks. Then that damn hand comes down again; which you thought was gonna muss your hair a bit more, but settles rather firmly against the back of your head.

His loose costume he’s wearing isn’t big enough to hide how hard his cock is, but it’s like he’s making you wait for it - want and yearn for it. Because he doesn’t move for a moment, just gets used to the look of you down on your knees as your fidgeting starts to feel more and more uncontrollable.

“Hey! Are you just gonna leave me high n’ dr-” A white finger presses to his lips as his other hand keeps holding your head. “Quiet now, girl. Be quiet.”

You’re good! A little impatient, but you’re good, goddamn it! Trying to be, for him - the love of your life, who’s got you down on your knees, fixing to ruin your pretty makeup for the afternoon.

Quiet. 

Quiet. 

Too damn quiet. Too much fucking silence. He’s looking at you, you think - because your eyes are shut tight and the embarrassment is beginning to dawn on you, and everything’s hot, and scary, and Suguru - is he mad at you?-

The sudden feeling of his hot hard cock flopping against your cheek makes you leap like a fish to water. Your eyes bulge open a bit, and your mouth gapes open in that instant, tongue lolling out for purchase on his heated flesh, heady scent weaseling into your nostrils and making your thighs clamp down around your own hand - which you hadn’t noticed snuck between your thighs. Your twitching fingers reach up to grab it …

“Stop.” You whine loose and loud, eyes flickering up to his face to communicate your desperation, and confusion. “Just use your mouth.” His hand reaches towards the base of his cock and flops it onto your lip proper; and you suckle on the head like it’s the sole thing providing you oxygen. “See? There are things you’re damn good at … Oh fuck -”  All you can hear besides his voice is your heart thumping in your chest and the saliva building in your mouth, the sloppy ‘schlorp’ as you take him to the base - deep into your throat - and back out again, the salty taste of his cock and precum something you’ve missed terribly.

A little voice crawls along the back of your mind. At home, it says. This is where you belong. Or maybe that’s Suguru’s wheedling. Words are falling from his lips, but you’re drowning in an effortless dream. “Good girl. … easy … taking me so well.”

The grip on the back of your head has grown tighter, as he shifts and adjusts his hips to help your further along. Your wet slurping is undercut by the sound of his balls slapping against your chin, fuzzy, familiar and pleasant. 

Then it’s as stern as a pinch. You can feel his cock bulge out your throat, cheeks hollowed as you take him to the base. Tears sting your eyes a bit, but it’s a liberating pain. His grunts grow in their intensity, and you feel soaked to the bone, sitting on your hands so they can’t jump up and fondle his balls - you won’t disobey! You refuse, refuse, refuse -

“Close, haah, close your eyes, precious.” Your tummy flutters as you weld them shut. Suguru’s hips stutter, pause, then pull back. 

A schlicking sound, then your prize. You open your mouth as you realize he’s cumming all over your face - streams of it making it into your happily awaiting maw, while the occasional strand undershoots - getting some on your chest and cheeks. Suguru sighs happier than you’ve heard in a while, and a part of you feels effortlessly at ease. Reset and pleasant and whole; besides the aching nag between your thighs. “You can speak now.” You try, throat fucked raw and a little raggedy. “A-are you going to fuck me now? Please? I can’t - I can’t wait anymore!” Suguru smiles gently, but insincerely. “No, of course not. This was a lesson, not a reward.” He tucks himself casually back into his costume. “Besides, we have guests, honey.”

You pout, feel like you wanna cry a little. “Don’t give me those crocodile tears. You’re a big girl, remember?”

“...I guess.”  You sniffle. Suguru nods and helps you back to your shaky feet. “Not ‘I guess’. You are.” He grants you a chaste kiss on your lips, licking a bit of himself off of you, then pulling back. “Now, go clean yourself up.” He starts towards the sink, eager to resume dinner. “Those two should be back any second now.”

[seravphs]

棠 —

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — TEEN DAD! GOJO x FEM READER

Gojo has something to tell you. Megumi is unfortunately still a member of the male species. Tsumiki just wants to watch the sunset. 

wc — 1.5k

cw — interlude between tried to live in a softer way and stockholm (coming soon), 棠 means "wild plums", Megumi’s a good boy but he’s still a boy (gross), part of teen dad gojoverse, in which you and Gojo raise Megumi together, I lowkey forgot Tsumiki existed when I first started writing Teen Dad! Gojo so now I have to retcon her in 

Megumi’s mouth is smeared with purple pulp. 

“You better have washed that,” you warn him as you carefully cut Tsumiki’s fruit for her. Your knives drip juice onto the ground, requiring careful attention to make sure the sugar won’t rust them. 

Some cursed weapons are durable, outlasting generation after generation of the sorcerers that wielded them. Yours are more delicate. Like flowers, they require great care.

Tsumiki takes the slice you hand her with gratitude and pops it into her mouth with a little shiver of happiness. Her fingertips are turning purple to match Megumi’s lips. You pour a little water from your bottle over them, and place another slice into her mouth yourself. 

“A little dirt is good for him,” Gojo calls from where he’s wedged halfway inside the trunk, fighting for the folding chairs he threw in haphazardly. Now they’re stuck. You told him they would be, and he hadn’t listened. 

You make an unconvinced noise in the back of your throat, pursing your lips. He can’t see you, of course. 

“Germs are gonna make his immune system stronger. Eat up, Megumi!” 

Megumi wrinkles his nose and unhappily swallows his bite. The next time Tsumiki hands him a slice of her (washed) plums, he takes it. Nothing ever works as well on him like Gojo and inadvertent reverse psychology. 

After another minute of letting Gojo struggle to prove a point, you reach over and tug on a latch. The chair Gojo is struggling with snaps shut so you can effortlessly pull it out of the trunk. Gojo smiles sheepishly. 

“What did we learn from this?”

“Wife is always right?” He says cheekily. 

“Can I help?” Tsumiki pops up underneath your elbow. 

“It’s okay,” Gojo ruffles her hair. “We got it.” 

He pushes you gently away when you try to take a chair, carrying three singlehandedly to the spot where Megumi and Tsumiki are waiting with the picnic basket. You know he wants you to gush over him, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

You purposefully turn away to start setting out the food, only for him to saunter over as soon as Tsumiki and Megumi are sitting in their newly placed chairs. 

“Did you see that?” 

“You are the strongest, Satoru.” This is easy work for him. 

“Okay, but it’s still cool, right?” 

Sometimes you want to ignore him and sometimes you want to give in. Gojo, like Megumi is predictable. He needs the carrot and the stick. 

“Yeah,” you smile. “It was cool. You know what would be cooler?” 

He’s setting out the dishes before you even have to ask. 

You’re not fooled even though Gojo’s acting completely normal. As lighthearted and nonchalant as he is, anyone who didn’t know better would think there’s nothing in the world that could phase him, but you do know better. 

He’s not the type to share his issues, especially not when he thinks he can solve them on his own, which is what you think is going on here. It’s fine. 

You don’t press. He’ll tell you when he’s ready. 

“Someone’s coming,” Megumi announces. 

Gojo raises an eyebrow. “And how do you know that?” 

He looks away, eyes shifty. 

“You know you’re not supposed to be summoning your dogs in public!” You scold him. 

Technically, he’s not supposed to know anything about his technique yet. Young sorcerers aren’t allowed to use their technique if they’re not enrolled at Jujutsu High. Of course, it’s different for clans, especially big clans. None of the elders who sit on the council are going to punish one of their own for getting ahead of the game. In fact, they’re quite willing to turn a blind eye to anything that makes their clan more powerful, even if it means starting their young off early. Too early, in your opinion. 

Gojo disagrees with this judgement, as he disagrees with everything the elders say. He’s been training Megumi in secret, slowly getting him used to the Ten Shadows. The dogs, which Megumi’s manifested since he was young, were the first to become tamed. They’re the easiest for him to control, so he looses them more often than he should. Regardless of what Gojo thinks, it’s simply not safe. You don’t want to give the Zenins any reason to take Megumi and Tsumiki. 

Megumi calls his shikigami back. They evaporate into shadow just as an old couple hobble up the dirt path. 

“Oy, granny!” Gojo calls, ignoring you as you smack his arm. “You need a hand?” 

“I’m okay,” she calls back. “Don’t worry about me! Just taking my daily walk.” 

Gojo gives you an aghast look. 

“Why are they hiking up here? One of them is going to break a leg,” he hisses. 

“Are you sure?” You ask them hesitantly. 

“My, aren’t you sweet! I’m alright, hon. The fresh air will do these old bones some good.” 

Beside her, her husband nods in agreement. He seems like the silent type to her extrovert. 

“What’re you two doing up here?” She says, picking her way over. 

Tsumiki holds up her plate. “Picnicking!” 

“How cute,” the old woman coos as she pinches her cheek. 

“And you! Why, I could just eat you up,” she tells Megumi, who looks mildly alarmed, not at her words, but at her attention. He squirms in his seat. 

“Your little brother?” The couple smiles as you stiffen. It’s not their fault. They have no idea. 

“My son,” Gojo says, his own smile turning unpleasant. 

“Oh!” She seems to sense she’s made a mistake of some sort, taking her husband’s arm once more. “I’m sorry, you seemed so young. Well, I’m sure you want to get back to your picnic without these old folk. Be careful not to stay out too late! I hear there’s a storm brewing.” 

Her husband helps her carefully over the grass back on to the dirt path. She turns back to wave, just once. 

“That wasn’t nice,” you say, watching them leave. “They didn’t know.” 

Gojo rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” 

“Look!” Tsumiki jostles Megumi, who’s still focused on his food instead of the sky. “The sun is setting!”

Gojo picked a good spot. No trees obstruct your view of a sky stretching as far as the eye can see. As someone who’s lived in the city for so long, it’s almost a miracle to witness. 

The sky is awash in floral hues. Burnt orange, ashy lavender, and muted links spread throughout the clouds. You’re smiling, awestruck at the sight, when you hear a click. You turn back just in time to see Gojo shove his phone in his pocket. 

“Did you just take a picture of me?” 

“Nope! Why don’t you sit tight while I repack everything?” 

Even when you try to help, Gojo pushes you back in your chair. His little helpers dash back and forth from the makeshift campsite to the car until everything is safely packed away. 

When you finally get up and brush your lap off, Gojo offers you his arm. 

You laugh at him. “Come on, I don’t need that.” 

He pushes his arm in your direction again, insistent. He’s being such a baby today, but you can’t help spoiling him. You take it as he escorts you to the car and opens the door for you with a flourish. 

The kids don’t want to go home, but Gojo distracts them with promises of McDonald’s on the long, winding trip down the mountain. Megumi’s at that age where he knew better than to trust the strange white haired sixteen year old who offered to take him in but still gullible enough not to understand there are no McDonald’s on mountains. 

He and Tsumiki fall asleep in the back seat as the rain patters rhythmically on the windows. All around you, the earth is lush and verdant. You’re in Eden before the fall. It’s hard to stay mad when the forest is putting on such a show for you outside. The earth is blooming, beckoning. 

Gojo rolls down the sun roof so the warmth of weak sun beams shines into the car. If you look up, the rain beads on the glass like crystals on a backdrop of dove grey storm clouds. 

It’s still raining when you get home. 

Gojo carries Megumi and Tsumiki inside, one in each arm. It’s a testament to their sleepiness that neither protest. You drop a kiss on each cherubic little cheek as you tuck them into bed, pressing the covers down around them. 

Gojo’s waiting in the kitchen when you quietly close their bedroom door. 

“I have something to tell you,” he says almost half-heartedly, looking out the window. “But you have to promise not to be mad.” 

You knew it. 

Whatever it is, you’re sure you can take it. You and Gojo have been through the worst of everything together, from a bullet in the shoulder to whiney, feverish children. There’s nothing you can’t handle to keep your little family together. 

“The Zenins want to take Megumi away,” he blurts out. 

Okay, maybe that wasn’t what you were expecting, but it’s fine. You can make it work. 

“They’re coming tomorrow.” 

You’re going to kill him.

[sanjisboyfie]

rockstar ! trafalgar law headcanons

trafalgar law x male reader ; he might seem ooc but he isn't, trust me. this is how law is supposed to be perceived, i talked to oda himself and sorted this all out with him before publishing.

-> listened to brooklyn baby by lana while writing this...hehehehheheehhehehehehe ps. i think that is my favorite photo of manga law ever oh my fuking godhes so hot.

rockstar ! law . . . did not get famous overnight, but also did not get famous on purpose...if that makes sense. like his ass was up posting his guitar covers on youtube for years before someone reached out to him on joining a proper band. but also he wasn't posting those guitar covers with the intent of getting noticed. he just wanted people to see how SICK he was on guitar (he's a not-so-secret narcisst). but also another reason he posted them was because of you, his boyfriend who he had been in a relationship for a year at that point, was encouraging him to do so. your support for him and his talent was really assuring and fuelled him to be confident enough to post them online. (he was kind of against the idea at first, probably saying romantic shit like, "i want only you to hear the songs i play," but eventually was swayed when you spent many minutes convincing him to)

rockstar ! law . . . when he finally goes on tour with his band, he is pretty insistent and headstrong in allowing you to come with. he doesn't care if he needs to pay out of pocket money to fund your stay with him and his bandmates, he will if he has to. because he's not leaving you for months on end, pursuing the dream that was only possible because of how you supported him through it. there's absolutely no way he's going on tour without his boyfriend.

law's tattooed arms were crossed over his wide chest as he listened to their manager and a team of people tell him and his band about their upcoming plan for their first ever tour.

after the end, when it was about time for everything to wrap up, law calmly asked, "what about bringing significant others?" this makes the executives share looks with one another before apologetically smiling at him.

"sorry, another person added onto the travel, boarding, and all that will not be able to fit into out budg-"

"then i'm not going," law says simply, already getting ready to storm out of the room. but the manager stops him by his wrist.

"n-now, let's not get hasty! this was not something we accounted for-"

"well you should've, i'm not going anywhere without him. i'm not gonna leave him." law states stubbornly, glaring down at the man that was much shorter than him, "he's either coming with us or i'm not going at all."

a silence passed over the room and his bandmates were internally praising law for having the balls to stand up to these powerful guys so carefree like that.

maybe that's what had made him such a good rockstar.

his passions that he was not willing to back down for, he'd settle for his desires being fulfilled or nothing at all.

what they didn't know was that all of those passions were singlehandedly fuelled by his immense love for you.

"a portion of it will have to come out of your pocket, then. we really don't have the funds to bring on another person. so if you can't-"

"i can manage. if that's all, and we're all good. me and [name] will be ready by the designated time and meet you all at the location with all of our things," law easily says, walking out of the room with his broad shoulders being the last thing the executives saw.

"wow, law is so cool!" a memeber, stage-named penguin, said with stars in his eyes.

"don't get any ideas." the manager immediately cuts them off before they can gush further.

rockstar ! law . . . is very openly gay for you <3 doesn't really care that people are expecting him to act a certain way because he is a rockstar, he could care less. he's said time and time again that the only reason these fans of his have the oppurtunity to appreciate him to such an extent is because of you. had it not been you encouraging him to post his covers, he would not be standing on that stage for them to admire. so he can be as shameless as he wants in displaying his affection for you. naturally, law isn't the most into pda, but when he hears annoying people batter him for being so into you, his boyfriend, he feels the need to piss them off even further.

law's calloused fingers were playing with the flesh of your waist as he held you close. it was dark in the after party room so he made sure to keep you secure to his side so that he wouldn't lose you in the crowd.

there were a bunch of celebrities that attended their recent show scattered around the room, but he didn't care for them. not when he had you on his arm. plus, he didn't really like these after parties that much - he'd much prefer to be on the tour bus cuddling with you.

feeling unimpressed with the party, he turned to you to feel some comfort. when he saw how you were just taking in the view of everyone, he leaned down to kiss you, surprising you at the sudden affection. but soon, the both of you were just pressed against the wall of the room and blatantly making out with each other. his raven hair was messy by the time you two pulled away from each other and that knowing smirk of his was proudly plastered on his face.

the next morning, the internet were ripping law into pieces for still being in a relationship with you despite having access to as many beautiful women, handsome men, and alluring people that he could have wanted. he was a talented, well-known name in the scene with a handsome face and charming demeanor. he could have had anyone. and some were frustrated, for some reason, that he was still with you.

five years going strong in your relationship wasn't enough for the press to believe he was satisfied and completely settled down with you, for some reason...

he groans the moment he sees the headlines, throwing his phone to the mattress and turning into your side to be comforted by you once again. the only person capable of calming him down still remains to be only you.

"love you," he says against your skin, making you laugh at the sleepy confession.

"love you, too, law. you know i don't care about the stupid shit they say," you comment, making note of how tight his arms were around your waist.

he doesn't acknowledge what you say, only peppering more kisses to your bare skin.

rockstar ! law . . . kinda perfectly fits the rockstar bf aesthetic to a T. he's wearing the leather jackets and the other staple fashion pieces that scream "rockstar boyfriend." it doesn't help the way the clothes so perfectly fall into place on his body. he enjoys matching with you too, even if your aesthetics may not match. if he's wearing a heavy jewlery piece, like a necklace, ring, or bracelet, he buys a matching one that you would like and would be able to style. he doesn't mind discarding his iconic leather jacket for you if you are feeling cold. and of course, he's attentive, protective, and caring for you (and only you) - perfectly fuelling the fantasies many people have of that "rockstar boyfriend persona"

law was not known for being hot-headed. there were never any stories of him giving customer service people a hardtime, or of him trashing hotel rooms like many others in the same genre as him were guilty of doing. his overall attitude was off standish, but polite.

with a slight difference whenever he was seen with you. still off standish and polite, but specially doting and careful when he is with you.

his arm is always slithered around your waist or shoulders and he is always seen attentively listening to whatever it is you're rambling about. his eyes focused in on you, and only you, show that he is blocking out the rest of the world and listening to you intently.

the way he almost, kind of, definitely glares at people that interrupt your time together before he softens his gaze the moment you catch him making faces and scold him. he's completely wrapped around your finger, despite his seemingly intimidating and threatening persona, he's complete mush with you.

his leather jacket was thrown over your shoulders as he protectively stood behind you. tonight, the two of you were at the bar and watching the live performance of the local band of the town you were in. due to your begging, he agreed to get off of the counter stool and dance and sway to the music with you.

his arms are resting in front of you as he holds your hands in his, completely engulfing them with the size difference. the jacket around you is practically drowning you as well.

he's rocking you back and forth, occasionally leaning down and pressing a kiss to your cheek and whispering sweet nothings to you. your cute moment unfortunately comes to an end though. some drunkard knocks into the two of you and spills their entire pint of beer on you and your clothing.

your first reaction is to take off law's jacket to spare it from reeking of the beverage, but law's first reaction is to push you behind him and size up the guy that knocked into you.

"the hell is your problem, man?! it was an accident!" the man defends himself when he feels threatened by your boyfriend.

law's one hand is holding your own, wanting to make sure you stay close to him some way, while the other is clenched at his side to form a fist. noticing how he was very close to landing a hit on the idiot's face, you pull him back by his shirt, "c'mon, people are staring,"

"don't care, this guy has got his head so far up his ass," law simply says, genuinely not caring at all that people were looking at him as if he were crazy.

"law, let's just go," he turns his head to you, his gaze softening as he turns.

he waits a couple seconds before speaking in whispers, "do you really want to go? i can just take care of him-"

"i do, really. let's just go, babe, it's alright, it was an accident," you continued trying to convince him.

"he could've done it on purpose, he could be a complete, total asshole,"

you laughed at his reasoning of giving the guy a lesson, shaking your head, "let's just go and get out of here."

law doesn't seem satisfied with having to let the guy go without any reprecussions, but if law is anything: he's a boyfriend that listens to his boyfriend.

so he walks away with you close by, tight grip on your hand, and silently cursing the asshole the entire ride home.

rockstar ! law . . . very casually dedicates the most romantic, sensual, loving, etc. songs to you when he is on stage.

"this one is for the man standing at side stage, waiting for me,"

"i've been with the same idiot for 5 years now and this song is for him,"

"this is [name]'s favorite, by the way. so if you don't like it, you can fuck off,"

rockstar ! law . . . who doesn't understand the way some fans really idolize your relationship. he loves you a lot and he's glad that they're accepting of that fact, but why are people on the internet asking him and you to adopt them...? or why are they calling the both of you their "daddies"? he's confused. he at least pieces together that they're being supportive, but he doesn't truly understand what they mean when they say stuff like "i wanna go to paris" underneath his posts of you and him on his instagram.

rockstar ! law . . . whose favorite audience is still you. he loves playing his guitar for you, just in the quiet of your room (when you're finally home for tour) and with you on the bed with his strumming as background noise to your reading, or whatever hobby you commit to.

his fingers move with such familiarity he can easily take his eyes off of the neck of the guitar. he looks at you with such love and care that it would make any onlookers vomit at how sweet he was being.

the song that he was playing was faintly resembling "can't help falling in love" by elvis, with his own personal twist. the moment you recognize the chords and notes, though, you look at him with a deadpan expression on your face.

he smirks, tilting his head, "what?" he'll ask with that annoying knowing look on his face.

"you're so cheesy," you comment with an eye roll.

"oh, don't be an asshole now,"

"not being an asshole, just being honest!"

law puts down the acoustic guitar, walking over to where you were and planting a kiss to the top of your head. clearing his throat, he begins to mimic the singer with exaggeration. it spurs you into laughter at his impression, which he only grins wider at. your laugh still remains his favorite sound in the whole world.

this soft side was only shown behind closed doors with you. and you liked it that way. no one else got to see your usually intimidating boyfriend with his walls completely down. how sweet and doting he actually was. polar opposite to that persona he put on whenever he walked onto those grand stages.

he was just yours right now.

and as he leans down to press a passionate kiss to your lips, you can smile against his with comfortability. and warmness spreads throughout both of your chests as he smiles back.

and finally, rockstar ! law who definitely gets your name tattooed somewhere on his body. probably on his hands or arms tbh because that is the most visible body part of his that gets photographed and noticed due to how he plays the guitar. that way if anyone wants to take photos of him in his element, they'll see a small part of you that he carries with him everywhere.

[teardrop-scales]

Hi I have a request! How about a love potion one shot or head canon with lmk Wukong and fem (s/o)? Please and thank u 🙏🏻

Love potion: Sun Wukong x reader headcannons 🧪

A.N: I decided to do this in a headcannon format, but more story-driven one, and I actually changed your request a bit so Wukong and reader aren't a couple yet in this. Hope that's okay!

You were having a peaceful afternoon after your early morning shift at work when MK called you.

You were surprised at this; you knew he was supposed to be training with your friend/crush Wukong and usually that made him quite busy and unreachable. So you knew that something must've happened.

When you picked up the phone , it turned out that The Monkey King himself somehow accidentally drank a love potion that he had in his stash of artifacts and other useless things.

MK wasn't exactly sure how the potion worked; on the bottle it was only written that, thankfully, the effects last only for a day or so, and the poor kid couldn't exactly ask his mentor about it right now. Besides, you were sure that Wukong wouldn't know even in the right/normal state of mind.

According to MK, the monkey acted somewhat normal for a few minutes, until he saw you in the photo he had of you two stashed somewhere. Then the potion truly started to kick in. At least that's what you think happened, provided you understood MK's frantic explanation correctly.

And to summarize, the boy wanted you to take care of Wukong for a bit until the potion stopped working, since the monkey was apparently constantly bugging him about wanting to see you. You could even hear Monkey King gushing about you and cutting in through MK's phone "to say hi".

You kinda feared what it would be like. You just hoped he wouldn't be too overbearing and that you won't explode from flusteredness, given you had a crush on Monkey King and thanks to the potion, he was in love with YOU of all people.

But you knew that MK had to go to his afternoon shift at Pigsy's, and Wukong couldn't be left alone in this state, so of course you agreed.

So in a short amount of time MK was standing in front of your apartment door with the Monkey King behind him. The boy thanked you once again and then he was gone. Leaving you alone with your lovesick crush.

His eyes were much wider than normal, and there was a slight pink gleam in them. He also had a wide smile on his face, his tail swishing behind him. Basically all the signs that he was happy.

"Peaches, I'm so glad to see you!"

He exclaimed in a much more higher pitched and cheerful voice than normally before crushing you in a hug.

"Yeah, good to see you too, Wukong" You replied and awkwardly reciprocated the hug, while Sun buried his face in the crook of your neck and inhaled your scent.

Overall Wukong was much more cheerful, talkative and emotional than normal under the effect of the potion.

After the hug he started asking you a ton of questions, like, how was your day? How are you feeling today? No demon tried to attack you since he last saw you, right? Etc.

You also noticed that he called you 'Peaches' a lot. Of course, sometimes he did call you that before the potion, but only sometimes and he always acted like that was a slip up. He usually calls you by your name or similarly to MK, 'bud'/'buddy', maybe 'pal' sometimes.

To be honest, you weren't sure what to do with Wukong and how to keep him busy and not bored until the potion stopped working. So you suggested watching a movie.

And of course, probably 'cause of his lovesick state, he chose a romantic comedy...

It's not like you've never watched that kind of movie with him before, you actually did - you both liked to make fun of the characters and point out the corny and cringy aspects of the movies, but this time Wukong was really invested in a way he never was before.

The second you both sat on your couch, the monkey clung to you, hugging and cuddling you like a teddy bear. He was so close it was impossible for him to be any closer to you. Wukong pressed his furred cheek against yours and curled up to your side, his tail curling around your ankle.

Meanwhile you just sat there, inwardly screaming and having a panic attack at how close and intimate he was right now, and how much you liked it and secretly wished he wouldn't let go. And he didn't for the whole movie, being too invested in it to notice or care about you blushing.

This time he also made comments during the movie (that's just the way he is, sometimes he just can't keep completely quiet for that long), but not snarky/mocking ones. Instead he kept staring at the screen with sparkles in his eyes each time the characters did something which could be considered "romantic" and saying something along the lines of "Ooh, that is so romantic! Wouldn't it be nice if we did something like that, Peaches?" Or change his mood completely and ask with a smug expression "Soo, what did you think? What would YOU think if SOMEONE did something like this for YOU?"

Summarizing, he was VERY subtle...

You tried to answer both honestly and nice enough not to hurt his feelings. But, truth be told, you lied a few times so he wouldn't feel bad/hurt. You felt slightly guilty about lying to your friend/crush, even about such stupid things. Oh well, if you're lucky, Wukong won't remember any of this.

To be honest, you were thankful that this whole love potion experience took a pretty lovey-dovey route and not... Y'know, the more suggestive and lustful one? Because when it comes to Wukong it sometimes could be both. It probably also depended on the potion itself.

So yeah, you were grateful that the most he did was throw a more suggestive comment with this smug face of his here and there.

After the movie ended, you figured it was a good time for dinner.

Right after you started getting off the couch and out of Wukong's grasp, he asked with a pouty tone where were you going.

"I'm just going to the kitchen to make pancakes for dinner. With peaches~" You added in a sing-songy voice. You knew how much your monkey friend loved those fruits, so you always made sure to have some at your house just in case.

"Oh!" Wukong's face lit up slightly at the mention of his favorite fruits. "You don't have to get up though! I can make the pancakes with no problem, you don't have to do anything, in fact, you don't even have to get off the couch! I'll do everything for you, no biggie. You must be so tired after your morning shift today, Peaches! Besides, I'm a pro at cooking!"

You barely managed to hide a snort after his last sentence. It was endearing that he wanted to spoil you and do things so you wouldn't have to but he definitely wasn't a pro at cooking. You taught him some basics and thanks to that The Monkey King was able to cook simple dishes so they were actually edible. But not much more than that.

However, you agreed for two reasons: one, so you wouldn't hurt his feelings (it was so cute how his eyes and entire face shined and how bright his smile was when you said "okay"), and two; you were quite curious how this would turn out.

"Okay, but call me if you need help."

"You're so sweet, Peaches! But that won't be necessary."

After that Wukong went to the kitchen.

In short, it turned out that Sun mistook powdered sugar for flour, so the pancakes were... Quite a disaster, honestly.

You had to console the poor Monkey for a few minutes, because he felt like he failed and disappointed you. He was practically close to tears (that potion really did make him much more emotional, huh?)

He only cheered up after you suggested ordering something from Pigsy's. And of course, being the gentleman he suddenly became thanks to the potion, he insisted he should be the one to make the call. You could imagine that the pig wasn't very happy to hear him, but nonetheless after some time your order arrived with MK to your door.

"So, how is he?" Asked the teen. "I hope he was... Umm... Well behaved?"

"He was actually. It's just that he's much more cheerful and emotional than normal." You chuckled.

After that you invited MK inside, since he just ended his shift while bringing your and Wukong's order.

You and your crush ate your dishes and MK ate some chips you had in the kitchen. Meanwhile Wukong kept gushing about you to the teen, making you very flustered and flattered at the same time.

"I just love you Peaches so much!" Happily exclaimed Wukong at one moment.

Then a small, quiet gasp escaped your lips. Oh, how much you wished he truly meant those words. But you knew that this was just the potion talking, sadly.

After that MK suggested he should take Wukong back to the Flower Fruit Mountain since he ended his shift now.

Unfortunately, Sun heard that and he wasn't pleased. He immediately embraced you and squished you tightly against himself and kept saying how he needed to stay to protect you from demons or burglars breaking into your house. And also claiming that he doesn't want to be alone and that he had such a good time with you, so he didn't want it to end. Wukong was pretty much like an emotional child thanks to the potion at that moment. MK tried to pry him off you, but to no avail.

You had to promise Wukong that he could come over the next day in order for him to let you go and calm down.

Finally Sun agreed to go with MK, but not before hugging you tightly once more, kissing your cheek and saying "Love you, Peaches!".

You couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief when Monkey King left with his successor. This was an interesting experience, but it was quite tiring too. You also had many complicated emotions after this and needed a lot of time to process them. All of this just made you realize how hopeless you were in your crush on Monkey King himself and, how badly you wanted him to truly love you.

Later, in the evening, you suddenly grew curious about the love potion which your friend drank. So you decided to call Tang to check if he knew something about it; after all, who else could have such knowledge if not him?

"A love potion you say? Hmm... Well I do recall hearing some myth about some deity or someone who wanted to invent a potion which could make people fall in love. They kind of succeeded, but actually later it turned out that the potion didn't create those feelings from scratch."

"What do you mean?" You had a feeling where this was going, but you needed a clear confirmation.

"In order for the potion to work, the person who drank it had to already have some feelings for someone. The potion just caused those feelings to grow abnormally stronger and made the drinker more emotional, confident and bold about their feelings. Umm, but why are you asking?"

You were flabbergasted. Could it be...? "Oh, it's nothing, I was just curious. Thanks Tang, I have to go now, bye!" After that you ended the call, not even letting the scholar say goodbye.

That meant that Sun Wukong, aka The Monkey King himself had a crush on YOU. A REAL CRUSH. SINCE WHEN?! How long was he hiding it? Either you were really dense and oblivious or he was really good at hiding his true feelings. Honestly, it was hard to determine which was true in that situation.

For a solid minute you just sat there with your mouth open. Your mind literally screamed "error". Then you suddenly squealed like a teenage girl, jumped in the air and said "YES!"

Well. It seemed like you needed to have a little chat with Wukong.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Bright Eyes | 1

Part 2

Prince Aemond's marriage was borne out of necessity and political advantage. Let it never be said that he did not know duty, for duty was what kept Aemond Targaryen grounded. But in truth, the prince felt cheated by the match, for he felt his wife was getting scraps as her dowry. After all, she was chosen for him because of her family's wealth and resources. It was then rather scandalous when the icy prince became temperate to his bride.

Aemond Targaryen x Reader | 2k+ | cw: fem!reader, arranged marriage au, smut (virginity loss, vaginal penetration), reluctant lovers ig, typos, etc.

A/N: HIIII THIS IS PART OF THE HOUSE OF THE DRAGON BIG BANG CELEBRATION 🎉🎉🎉 I split mine into 3 parts but I can only post the other 2 parts here on Tumblr after the whole event has ended to respect and give way for the other submissions. It will be available on AO3 to read though so yeah! Thank you so much to the love of my life @ewanmitchellcrumbs for making the art for me (and in such short notice too cos my artist unfortunately deactivated their Tumblr). I'm so luv youuuu Also i haven't written anything for hotd in a while so i don't remember who I'm supposed to tag so kejhshs surprise! And enjoy ig!!! HIHIHI

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @thebullship @sa3losa

"Perhaps," I extend a hand to him, "you ought to hold my hand."

Aemond straightens from where he stood, lone eye darting from his feet, to my hand, to my face. He finds offence in this offer, a line threatens to dig deep between his brows.

"The-" I trail off and look away, my gloved hand, however, does not retreat, "-terrain is quite bumpy." I look back to him expectantly, "I know the land well. It would be easier for me to lead you through-"

"Then lead me," Aemond cuts, both hands going behind him, "skip the fussing."

I purse my lips and watch him for a moment.

The wind strengthens. It blows past me yet I do not move with it, even with my thick dress pulling me back. In contrast, Aemond shuffles in his spot, his coat catching the gush of wind and his hair raking his skin. I had offered to braid Aemond's hair to keep it out of his face and he said he could manage because what was the breeze on a meadow compared to the ripping air at the back of a dragon?

He realizes meadow was too kind a term for this patch of land I was showing him. It was a hellscape, not lush or flowery like a meadow at all. The field stretched out to a cliff, and below it laid viscous waves that added to the horrible weather.

I nod and bring my hands to my skirts instead, "please watch your step. A few more paces, we'll reach the area that has many-"

Aemond grunts when he steps on a hidden divot. His heel digs into the mushy surface and he nearly twists his ankle.

I whip my head back and look at him, finally completing my thought, "-holes in the ground."

He clenches his jaw and yanks his foot out of the muck. I silently turn away and continue walking.

The prince mumbles to himself as he follows me.

Finally, I reach the top of the slope. I situate myself atop a rock and look down at the land. I clasp my hands together as I feel the man walk up beside me. I make it a point to really just let the silence simmer, to let him take in the view, though in truth, there really wasn't much of it. It was just-

"Dirt as far as the eye can see."

I turn to Aemond when he says this.

"How good," he purses his lips and brings his hands behind him, "I've always wanted a hill of dirt all for myself."

I slowly step down from the rock and lift my eyes up to my husband-to-be.

"Vhagar might even like it," he says, lone eye scrutinizing me then the land, which was part of my dowry.

It was the worst pickings from my family, that much was clear. But with my three older brothers set to inherit much of my house's estate, I couldn't really complain, after all, I was the youngest... and a woman.

Aemond, of course, would do the complaining, as he has been.

"I am glad to hear that, my prince," I offer a smile.

The look Aemond gives me is one of astonishment. I can practically make out how his covered eye widened underneath his eye patch. He mutters under his breath, "gods, she's fucking thick."

I pretend I don't hear it and follow after the man when he begins to walk away.

The long haired blonde struggles yet again against the uneven terrain. I no longer make the mistake of offering my assistance. For his sake, or perhaps my own, I leave a good distance between the two of us, so that if he were to topple, even if I did instinctively reach out to him again, he would be too far to reach.

I mirror his steps, right leg moving only after his did. Of course, I did not step in the holes and bumps that were so obvious to me. Still, I tail him diligently.

This was why I froze when he turned back and scowled at me.

"What are you doing?" asks the prince with furrowed brows.

I part my lips, "I-"

"Come here," he reaches out, "I have things to discuss with you."

My eyes turn to his extended hand. I look at his large, ruddy palm and feel my belly swirl in reaction. Apprehensively, I place my hand in his, and he rather discourteously snags me close to him. It nearly costs me my balance, but I'm glad it doesn't.

I watch as Aemond links our arms together before he walking off. My eyes dart from his bicep to his profile. I take in the shape of his nose and think about how our children would inherit it. I press my lips into a line at the thought.

"Our marriage is that of convenience," he turns to me, "and duty."

When Aemond does not continue, I tighten my lips together and nod.

He looks away and walks at a slower pace, "we are to be married in a few days time, and after that, you will no longer belong to your house, you will belong to mine," I notice how his expression hardens, "you will belong to me."

"I understand this," I retort.

He tilts his head, "do you?"

I nod, "I do," I tighten my grip on his arm, "my whole life I have been groomed to be the perfect wife. Once I am yours, everything that I am will be for you."

Aemond's face is blank when he looks at me, and yet I can tell he wishes me to clarify.

So I do, "I will be your wife, your princess, the lady of your house, the mother of your children. I am for you... and you for me."

"Mmm," he looks away and adjusts my grip on him. He loosens it, "yes."

For a moment, we both simply walk on the rocky ground.

Aemond draws a deep breath and turns his head to gaze upon the façade of what would be his castle after our marriage. It was a shabby little thing, run down and without servants, but it was situated in a strip of land that would prove to be beneficial if, say, war came.

"Your father is character," Aemond starts, "a rather ambitious man, wouldn't you agree?"

"He is," I chew my lip, "if he could, he'd take the stars and put them on his walls."

The prince hums, "do you share in his ambition?"

"I-"

He squeezes my arm. He throws a look, as if displeased that I would answer so quickly.

I raise my brows, retaining what I meant to answer, though saying it much slower than I would have, "I have no other ambition than to be a dutiful bride. My ambition is your ambition."

Aemond does not respond nor speak up until we make it back to the carriage.

There, both our mothers are waiting, both equally pleased by our return.

"There they are," my mother says with a smile, "I trust you enjoyed your stroll, my prince."

Aemond eyes my mother as he breaks away from me to walk over to his. Queen Alicent smiles at his son and brushes the hair that was flying to his face.

"The walk was too aggravating to be enjoyed. There was not a single patch of leveled ground," the prince say, "I doubt even sheep would enjoy it here."

I play off my agitation while my mother laughs, "you needn't worry about the ground being level, prince Aemond. You'll have peasants to do that for you."

I walk towards my mother when she reaches out to me. She smiles and takes my hand, "come, my daughter. Today will be your last day as my baby."

I lock gazes with Aemond as my mother kisses my temple.

I feel embarrassment creep up my cheeks.

The honest truth was, I don't remember what happened between that moment and when my husband was undoing the back of my dress. I vaguely remember the wedding, sharing dances with my brothers, with Aemond's brothers, with Helaena. I can recall King Viserys retiring early because of his headache, but then again, he did this often, so it could simply be a memory from another day.

All I know was that Aemond's fingers were hard, hot, and nimble. What would have taken me ages to take off my dress, he did so in a few seconds. I do my best not to breathe heavily, but even though I was not facing him, I couldn't seem to keep from heaving.

It was quite dark. The few candles that were lit did not really help in illuminating the room, but that did not make the idea of being naked in front of a man any easier for me.

My hammering heart commanded my eyes shut as the feverish dragon stripped me bare before him. I swear his touch burned my shivering skin as he slowly revealed my body to himself. I feel him brush his palms down my arms as he pulled my dress down my shoulders. Soon enough my entire body prickled as my shift dropped to my feet.

I cover my breasts with my arm and block my sex with my hand.

"Would you like to undress me, wife?" he mutters.

I feel the hair on the back of my neck raise when I feel his hot breath hit my skin. It was such a plainly worded question, yet it made me want to jump out of the window.

I slowly turn my head, opening my eyes to steal a look of him from over my shoulder. I don't know why, but I say, "yes."

The fact was I didn't. I didn't want to undress him. I would like to think it was quite apparent with how I slowly turned and apprehensively uncovered myself to be able to undress him.

I did not know why I was so shocked that he was unabashedly eyeing my body. I did not know why I was so shocked when his hands reached out to my waist, when his fingers pressed into my flesh, and his nails left marks on my skin. I let out a squeak and fidgeted with his shirt as he did so.

He only releases me when I pull his top off. I step out of my shift, bunched by my ankles, and walk closer to him to undo his breeches. I do not look at his face once, but I know he is still looking at me.

Once his ties were loose, I ghost my fingertips by his waistband, uncertain and hesitant of what to do next.

Recognizing this, he takes my wrists, but he freezes the next moment, clearly not expecting me to do what I did next.

I kissed him. I tilted my head and pressed my lips against his. It was chaste-- probably how I kissed him when we were proclaimed man and wife, but gods did it make my body burn.

I lick my lips after pulling away. I think about clutching his face, and so I do. I reach out to his cheeks and shift on my toes, leaning in for another peck.

I whimper when he pulls me flush against his chest. The contrast of my softer, colder body on his leaner, warmer one was something welcome. Apart from his hands tugging me close, it was like his very essence was drawing me into him.

We do not break our kiss even as he pushes me towards the bed, not even as I topple back and land on the mattress. There is a desperation in his kisses, as if the act of ending it would cause him harm.

He guides me underneath him. He parts my legs and makes room for himself between them. He rubs against me, and it is then I am reminded that I had failed to strip him fully naked. He immediately moves to remedy this, which is then when he pulls away.

When he does so, he rips at his trousers, hell-bent on freeing himself in as little time as possible.

Aemond gets on his knees and gracelessly pulls his remaining clothing off. It may have been dark but I could see him. I could see all of him now. It made my core pulse with excitement, dread, anticipation, and apprehension all at once.

I sigh when he sinks down and presses against me. He kisses me again and I feel his hardened length press against my belly.

I mold my body against him, curling myself in a way that fit snug with his form. I bring my thighs against his hips and feel encouraged when his hand squeeze and pull them closer to him.

He breaks our kiss to draw in a much needed breath and the haze that built in my mind grows thicker when Aemond begins to trail his lips down my jaw and neck. My nails find their way to his spine when he begins to buck his hips into me.

My skin prickles and my heart pounds when he whispers something into my ear. I did not know what he said, but I was certain it was High Valyrian. I was also somehow certain it had something to do with the way I felt.

Aemond hums and sinks his nose behind my ear. I whimper in response, arms tightening around him. I embrace him like I did not intend to let him go, and it truth, I really didn't.

"You make such pretty sounds for me."

I feel embarrassment creep up my cheeks. I am glad he does not see it.

I make another sound when I feel Aemond's hand trail between my thighs. We both hiss when his fingers find my sensitive center.

He pushes himself up on one arm and lifts his body. Aemond grabs himself and makes me yelp when he rubs his cock against my folds. It was then I realized how wet I've become. 

He does this for a while. He coats himself with my dampness. He continues until I feel my body drip with sweat and arousal, until the arm keeping him up tires, and then I feel him slowly push into me.

When he does so, he sinks down and fits into me oh-so perfectly. The intrusion was not at all uncomfortable, in fact, it made my belly burn with need.

I find myself kissing the crook of his neck as he laid atop me. I feel him sigh in response.

"Please," I whisper, thighs rubbing against him, "I need more."

Aemond wastes no time in attending to my plea.

I mewl when he begins to thrust his hips. His movements are short and tight; he barely pulls out. He continues like this then changes pace when he grabs the back of my knees and pushes them close to my ribs. His movements grow bolder, more deliberate and harder.

He, himself, makes pretty sounds as he moves into me. 

I feel sweat begin to build on my skin. I feel a pressure begins to tighten in me.

"Take my seed like a dutiful wife," he kisses my jaw, "I'll put a dragon in you."

My back arches, "Aemond."

"I wish to see you full of me," his one hand comes up to my breast and squeezes it, "I wish to fill you with me."

"P-please fill me," I respond with a shaky voice.

Aemond grunts, "I will."

My heart nearly stops when I feel burning pleasure break into me. My mouth releases the remaining air in my lungs as it calls out my husband's name.

Aemond makes gutteral noises as his movements grow rough and eventually stop.

I bury my face into his shoulder and catch my breath. Aemond follows suit but takes only a few breaths before lifting himself up and rolling off me.

He brings my legs together and covers my form with a blanket. I tense when he stands and walks off, feeling a panic come over me when he disappears. It only intensifies when he does not come back quickly.

I am about to sit up but then I freeze when I see him walk over to me. He is now clothed and had something in his hand.

"Clean yourself up," he places something on the bedside table, "you will not enjoy it when you wake," he turns to me, "I suggest you get dressed as well. You are rather cold."

I feel my body burn as Aemond walks off, circling the bed, coming under the sheets on his side.

I do as he says, slowly pushing the blanket off, feeling a chill run down my spine when my bare feel touch the cold ground. I stand and see that there was a wash basin on the table, as well as a towel.

I take in a deep breath and wipe myself down with warm water that was prepared for me. Once I was done, I examine the floor and pick up my shift. I put it on and put out the candles. 

I climb into bed and do my best not to touch Aemond. My voice breaks when I call out, "good night."

He does not respond so I tell myself he was asleep. It takes a while for me to do the same.

[antimatterz]

reverberating ruin

blade, seele, jing yuan, yanqing, dan heng (normal and imbibitor lunae separately), kafka x gn!reader

summary: how they react when you praise them after hitting high numbers of damage.

cw: self-aware au, just a short headcanon post

enyo's note: featuring my previous or current favorite dps characters. title is the achievement unlocked when you hit 300k damage. my dan heng favorism might show in this? tagging @hiraethsdesires <3

content under the cut | masterlist

blade

it was in a boss battle that blade suddenly struck the highest number you'd ever seen from him. as you yelped in surprise, he just looked at you weirdly, as if to ask, what's the matter?

you point at the screen, which adds to his confusion only more. did he do something wrong? he couldn't imagine; he served you as he was supposed to do as your main dps.

"bladie!" you exclaimed. "you– that was insane!"

insane? what was insane?

you gushed, "i thought this damage only existed in streamers' videos. you're the best!"

he would never admit it, but his immortal heart fluttered a little when your words of praise landed upon his ears.

"i just did what i'm supposed to do," blade huffed as he folded his arms and averted his gaze away from the screen.

he tried so hard to act unaffected but your words do something to him. his mindset is void of any positivity, so the feeling is quite foreign to blade. it had been ages since he last experienced something like that.

please praise this man more often!

seele

it was just a normal battle in the overworld. nothing special, no special buffs or whatsoever. as your opponents gathered afore you on the screen. seele pariently awaited her turn before she dashed off with her insanely fast attacks.

merely a single strike, but a huge number flew across the screen. your jaw dropped and you squeaked her name in delight. seele shot you a sideways glance but continued battle, and only when every foe is down, she asked you about it.

"you did a massive amount of damage!" you gleefully told her. "i'm so proud of you, seele!"

her purple gaze widened upon your words, and she opened her mouth to say something but words didn't come out; you severely caught her off-guard with your praise.

"it's nothing," she sputtered. "it's just my duty."

she actually got shy, not something that occured a lot.

acted indifferent but was quite happy with your praise.

jing yuan

in a boss battle, he was playfully showing off without making it known to you – but yes, occasionally he liked to show off just for you because he enjoyed the way you gushed over him.

accompanied by the lightning lord, he caused a huge number to fly across the screen, making you gasp in awe.

"aeons, jing yuan," you said. "you're so strong."

he put up a humble act, hiding his smile because he knew he was strong. regardless, he loved being told so by you, which is why he tried a little harder sometimes.

"only for you," he shot you a playful wink.

continued battle even more fiercely, and while he was fully aware of the high numbers he hit, he loved to hear you praise him for it.

it was kind of like a game to him.

getting praise as he effortlessly hit numbers with more digits than you were used to. what more could he wish for? notice the satisfied smile the sleepy general wore as he fought your battles.

yanqing

the boy always tried so hard for you, never satisfied with his peformance. always eager for battle, only to be disappointed with himself when he deemed his damage unworthy.

so when you suddenly let out a squeal after he one-shot an opponent he haltsled his movements mid-battle. he gazed at you through the screen curiously.

"what?" he asked.

"yanqing!" you giggled. "did you see that?"

"see what?" he inquired, not quite getting it.

"that was a bizarre hit! you literally one-shot that dude," you chimed. "thank you, you're amazing!"

"i–" the boy began, cheeks flushing red. "it's uh, it's nothing. i'm just fulfilling my duty."

"that doesn't make it any less cool," you countered. "i'm proud of you, yanqingie. you did well."

aeons, he was so happy, but tried to play it off coolly. but after your words of praise, he tried even harder and harder, now with newfound motivation.

please praise him more often, so that he could finally feel proud of himself as well!

dan heng

honestly, you weren't sure what to expect from a free character. that couldn't be too good, right?

but dan heng proved the opposite multiple times already with numbers that reached higher and higher.

until he suddenly hit a number so high that it had you yelp in surprise upon seeing it fly across your screen; was dan heng really capable of hitting such numbers? well, apparently he was, and you were delighted.

"dan heng!" you exclaimed. "did you see that?"

"i did," he calmly replied. "what's the matter?"

"that was an insane number!" you explained. "aeons, you're amazing."

at this point dan heng's cheeks flushed a little bit, but he tried to hide it. "it's simply because you gave me a good build."

you tried to praise him, but he turned it right back towards you. that wasn't part of the plan? you got a little flustered as well.

"i just got lucky while farming for relics," you shrugged it off. secretly you just put in a lot of extra effort because you liked him, but that was your little secret.

dan heng (imbibitor lunae)

you had been pre-farming for him for quite a while, mainly to have good relics ready for him. you managed to create a build you were quite proud of and as soon as he came home, you equipped them.

beforehand you had heard great things about imbibitor lunae, and you were eager to see him in action now that he was built and leveled.

well, he instantly hit amazing numbers right off the bat and it left you speechless. you simply squealed in pure glee because ??? you just got him and he already outdid all your previous dps characters in terms of damage.

"oh my god, you're awesome," you impulsively chimed with a little too much enthusiasm. you clasped your hands over your mouth but dan heng offered you a faint smile, amused by your happiness.

"i merely do what you expect me to do," he explained. "i don't deserve your words of praise, but i am grateful regardless."

"as long as you know that i'm super happy with you," you told him with a smile. "you're a gamechanger."

you already loved dan heng in his normal form, but in his vidhadyara form he was even more amazing – you instantly had a new favorite dps, and you would make sure that he knew how happy you were with him.

kafka

when you pulled for her, you never expected her to take on the role of a dps. but from the start she hit quite some large numbers, while you thought of her as only a debuffer.

well, jokes on you, this lady is strong.

equipped with both a gun and a sword, she took down opponents with ease, and you can't help but gush over every defeat. and she knew how you reacted, shooting you a coy grin often.

you didn't even have to voice your praise; it was all over your face, your entire demeanor. and it spurred her on to do even more damage.

"you're so–" you began, but she cut you off with a smile.

"i know, darling," she said coyly. "you simply make me want to my best. you're adorable, after all."

you tried to praise her, but she threw it right back at you and you ended up being quite flustered. but secretly she loved it when you spoke so highly of her.

it went so effortlessly. and aeons, did she look good while fighting. numbers flew across the screen, leaving you stunned. well, that's kafka for you.

[tlouadditc]

screw the cops!!

cop!ellabs x dealer!reader

warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut with plot, mentions of drugs [marijuana], cop!ellabs, dealer!reader, a lil bit of knifeplay, dom!ellabs, sub!reader, use of y/n, reader gets cut a lil bit oops!, probably more but i cant think of it rn

last minute a/n: this was another ask i forgot to put under the question ☹️ anyway thank u for the ask!!

[10:06 pm]

MY FAV ;): heyyy u got an 8th?? i can pick up at the library in 15 :)

you read the text, grumbling as you get up from your couch. you quickly shoot back:

YOU: lmk when ur there

it was supposed to be an off-day; sit in your dorm, watch tv, maybe have someone over, but no. everyone needed your shit at all times. she's lucky she's your favorite -- otherwise you would've told her to fuck off.

locking your door behind you, you get in your car and pull out of your driveway. as you glide through the gentle darkness, you feel random anxiety, like something bad is happening. it could be the lack of sleep. it could be the upcoming deadline you haven't started. it could also be the fact the entire campus is being searched because some dumbass freshman left his- no, sorry, YOUR- weed in his dorm and got the cops called. he didn't snitch luckily; he knows you would've gotten him killed if he did. but now there's a patrol going on until they find who's distributing. it's not like you wanted to live this life- you barely graduated high school, getting a small scholarship to a local college. the debt hit you, parents refused to help you anymore because you're an adult, blah blah blah blah. you ended up here to finally make a stable income and not have to chose between being warm or being fed consistently.

the sob story makes you cringe, snapping back into reality as you park in a spot by the front of the campus library. you pull out your phone and send:

YOU: here. wya

3 bubbles quickly pop up, written with a response:

MY FAV ;): kk coming out now

as you read the text, you hear the front doors swing open and a tall, slim figure gets larger as it comes closer. as she steps into the streetlight, you see her; sophomore dina. her long, onyx hair dances down her back as she comes closer to your car. she rests one arm on your window, other arm reaching into her pocket. she pulls out 35 bucks, tilting her head to the side slightly and smirking. you hand her a small baggie and take the bills out of her hand, shoving it into your pocket. "you're the best," she gushed, taking her arm off your window. she starts to turn to walk back to the library when she says, "oh, by the way, gave my friend your number."

you freeze, looking up at her in pure horror. "you what?"

"okay, chill, she's cool," she quickly explains, putting a hand on her hip in annoyance.

you roll your eyes, "the entire campus is getting fucking raided, for god's sake. cmon, dina."

"so, what? not everyone's a dumbass like that kid was."

you sigh. you guess she's right. plus, more business for you in the long run. she gives some information about this girl; her names ellie. she's a sophomore majoring in astrophysics who transferred from another school in jackson. around 5'5, auburn hair, science nerd. "pretty sure she's gay, too," dina winks.

you roll your eyes once more before pulling out and returning home. as soon as you unlock the door and step in, you check your other phone, an unknown number's texts sitting on the lock screen.

[UNKNOWN NUMBER]: hii this is y/n right?

[UNKNOWN NUMBER]: dina gave me ur number

gotta be ellie, you think to yourself. kinda cute. you don't respond; you hate small talk. no point in trying to get to know each other if you already know what they want. you put your phone down and start to get ready for bed.

an hour later, you get out of your shower and into comfy clothes. as you get into your freshly made bed, your other phone buzzes. you would usually ignore it, but you remember; debate checking the message or leaving it alone until tomorrow. eventually, curiosity gets the best of you and you check your phone. you groan as you read the message:

[11:37pm]

EL: i know its late but can u drop off? i need it :(

goddamnit, leave me alone!

you type up some message along the lines of 'im off today, ask tomorrow bitch,' but decide to be nice. you don't know why, but you only respond with the following:

YOU: off today. ask tmr

3 dots in a bubble move swiftly as a response pops up on your screen:

EL: pleaaaaase itll be quick

you sigh. she's not gonna let up; just like dina.

YOU: fine. ill b at the library.

she hearts your message as you throw on some sweatpants and grab your keys. you go on the same drive but you feel no anxiety this time. it's a newbie, for god's sake- she's the one who's probably nervous. you even put on some music this time, drake lowly lulling in your vehicle. you pull up, same spot as earlier, and you turn down your music. you go to text her, but the doors open before you can press a letter. she's just as dina described- until she gets up to your window. her scattered freckles complimented her bright, emerald eyes. her friendly expression made you soft under her gaze. you didn't realized she was talking for a while until she whispered, "uh... hello?"

"what?" you said, clearly perplexed. she smiled as you remembered what you're there for. she hands you 25 bucks as you place the baggie in her free hand. she lets out a silent "thanks" before you get ready to drive back home.

"uh, actually," she suddenly blurted out, catching your attention. she seemed nervous, like she had something to say, but she was scared of the outcome. "do you mind.. uh.. giving me a ride back home? i mean i walked down here and it's dark so-"

"hop in," you interrupted. it was pretty dark and you wouldn't want patrol on her ass about being out by herself, so you decided to get it over with. she pranced around to the passengers side and practically jumped in.

the ride to her dorm was quiet. ellie was on her phone the entire time; you assumed it was her roommate asking her where she's at. there was a bit of tension you could feel in the air; what type? you couldn't answer that.

coming to a stop at the entrance of her dormitory, she thanked you once again before you prepared to go home yourself.

"you could stay the night," she mumbled, fumbling with the bag in hand.

"what? no- no, i can't do that," you answered. you weren't against staying over, but... going home with someone you literally met an hour ago? absolutely not.

"jus' c'mon. it's late," she insisted, biting her lip anxiously. "plus, i owe you." you sight and give in, turning off the engine and ignition before grabbing your keys and phone and joining her on the walkway. she smiled politely and led you to her dorm.

the entire time you were walking with her, you assessed her appearance in clearer light. her hair was a shaggy cut, parted to the side and tucked behind her ears even though some stray strands still stood. her eyes were welcoming and friendly, giving you a warm feeling of hope. she had a tattoo on her right arm; a fern and a small butterfly. you debate asking her the meaning, but decide against it.

you snap out of your trance when you make it to her door. she unlocks the door and gently pushes it in, leaving room for you to step inside. "come in!"

you take 3 steps inside before you're pushed to the ground and pinned by strong, rough hands. "what the fuc- hey!" you start to shout. you squirm, hopelessly attempting to be freed from the tight grasp of what you thought was a male officer.

"you're under arrest," an unfamiliar, feminine voice states, "for possession and distribution of marijuana. you have the right to remain silent at this time." you see ellie's shoes standing in front of you, silently taunting you as you're handcuffed.

fuck, i should've never trusted her.

you're patted down and escorted to an unmarked car, parked around 30 feet away from your car. the unfamiliar figure is a tall, built woman with a long, blonde braid swinging down her back. her calloused hand grips you tightly as you're being walked. once you reach the vehicle, you're thrown into the back and the door slams in your face. you don't argue or protest; you were caught after one fuck up.

"didn't expect to catch her so easily," ellie brags, slightly looking back at you. you scowl at her, feeling betrayed by not only ellie, but dina, too. she had [hopefully] unknowingly helped them ruin your life. you were for sure not going to be able to finish college now. you wouldn't be able to get a job nice enough to stabilize your life. not to mention the possibility for 5 years of jail time and fees. it all made your head hurt. tears weld up in your eyes as you started to really let reality sink in.

"aw, she's crying," the blonde officer teased, looking at you through the rear-view mirror. you blinked back the tears before spitting out, "fuck you."

"the fuck you just say to me?"

"you heard me; fuck. you."

you could see her jaw clench, her bone well-defined under her skin. "oh, i know you wanna fuck me." a snicker was heard from the auburn girl.

the hell??

it was a weird response, but you decided to play into it. you're already being sent to jail; why not have fun?

"you wouldn't do anything about it if i wanted to anyway."

you saw the blonde's eyes go wide and her jaw drop with disbelief, looking over at her partner. ellie seemed calm, but intrigued by the situation. it was silent, but the way their eyes met was like they were talking through eye contact. ellie tilts her head towards you, signaling something to the other officer. as if she could read her mind, the blonde nods and pulls over to an abandoned alleyway.

"what's going on?" you question, attempting to hide the fear in your voice, but failing miserably. the blonde got out of the car and slammed the door shut as ellie simply answered, "you said we wouldn't do anything, hm?"

a shiver went down your spine as the door to your right opened, the blonde hopping in as you scooted all the way to your left.

"uh-uh, come here," she demanded as her hand wrapped around your neck and dragged you back to her. at this moment, your back rests against her toned thighs, handcuffed hands under your ass, legs laying on the seat.

"you wanna be disrespectful to me and my partner?" she jerks your head up, making you look at her. her sharp features take up your vision as she looks down at you with dark eyes. "you think you were just gonna get away with that? nuh-uh, not on my watch." you take your gaze off her face to read her badge, which reads "ABBY ANDERSON".

you're so focused on abby that you don'r realize ellie is on the other side of you, watching you and abby interact. you feel a sharp object on your jeans, scoring against the material. your head jerks down to see ellie running a pocketknife over your clothed cunt, fear and adrenaline running through you all at once. your breathing picks up speed as she cuts through your jeans, making a hole in the crotch. abby chuckles at your reaction, caressing your face as she coos, "not so tough now, huh?"

you're too caught up in looking at ellie's actions to respond. she puts the knife down, letting a feeling of relief wash over you. she mutters a "fuck it" before placing both hands on either side of the hole she made and ripping your jeans. you gasp, anxiety filling you once more. she smirks up at you, grabbing her knife and running it over your barely covered pussy. she loves the way you try to get away from her knife, silent cries as she gets closer to the meat of your thigh. she slightly cuts into you, small drops of blood racing down your inner thigh. you wince in pain, turning back to abby. "shh, it's okay," she reassures, kissing your sweaty forehead. "just a little cut. you're okay." you feel ellie's warm tongue running over the wound, collecting the red liquid. she kisses near your core, green eyes piercing into you before whispering, "so sweet" and smiling. abby gently kisses you, drawing your attention away from your cut to her and only her. she taps her pointer finger on your chin and whispers "open up", which you obey to. her lips purse together, gathering the liquid in her mouth before a ball of saliva drops into your mouth and onto your tongue. "swallow," she commands, and you close your mouth and swallow it, feeling it slip down your throat. she smiles, tapping your cheek lightly as she praises you. "good girl. she's doing so well, isn't she, el?"

ellie hums, hyper-focused on your pooling pussy. "so wet," she says in awe, "all this gets you off, doesn't it?"

you're oh so needy, cunt begging to be touched in any form. you nod ferociously, whining for any friction on your puffy clit. "you want it, yea? beg for it."

"p-please, ill do anything, just fuck me- ohmygod-" you babble, hips bucking up into ellie's face. she chuckles before looking up to abby, meeting her gaze. "she's been so good for us. give her a lil' reward."

with that, ellie cuts your underwear with one swift movement, completely exposing your pussy to her. she gasps at the sight, glistening skin in the low light. she whispers a spew of curses, spreading you apart as abby kisses you passionately. you moan into the kiss as ellie rubs your bud with her thumb. your noises go straight to her core, making her slightly whimper. she lays a flat tongue on your core, soaking up all of your juices on the pink muscle. abby wraps a firm hand around your throat, restricting airflow enough to make you completely feel ellie on you.

"fuck- oh, my god-" you cry, tears welling up in your eyes once more. the feeling is too much; abby kissing you, ellie eating you out- everything is overstimulating you. ellie smiles against your pussy, sucking on your clit while shoving two fingers in you. you whine and squirm away from her, but her other hand keeps you in place.

"i'm gonna- m'cumming- !!" you breathe, clenching around ellie's long fingers. abby praises you through it; "oh, so good for us, baby." "cum all over her fingers f'me, yes." small kisses are planted on your face once again, soothing you through your orgasm. ellie slowly takes her fingers out with a pop! before shoving one glistening finger into her mouth. she moans at the taste of you, maintaining eye contact with you. "shit, so sweet," she murmurs, looking over at abby. "wanna taste?"

"of course," abby says slyly, glancing over at you before sucking on ellie's middle finger, completely cleaning it off. she moans at the taste, finally letting ellie's middle finger go after a couple of seconds. she pulls you into another sloppy, heated kiss, making you taste yourself on her tongue.

"such a sweet thing," she coos, wiping your face. "too bad we gotta take you in now."

"can't let me off with a warning?"

"we would, but we'd be here for much longer and you'd be more bruised up." abby frowns in a mocking manner.

"so you're taking me in with no pants or underwear?"

"yup. don't underestimate us and, more importantly, don't sell drugs."

a/n: this was so fun to write omg ... part 2 will be coming me thinks

[seat-safety-switch]

Switch-mode power supplies, I say to you as I take up the last empty seat on this crowded airplane. We are going to express gratitude for the greatest modern miracle today, all the way to Philadelphia.

Once, power supplies were huge, and very hot, and so, so inefficient, you wouldn't even believe it. Imagine a computer the size of a whole room. At least half of that sucker is just gonna be the box that makes the juice. The switch-mode saved us all, I gush, while I take both of the complimentary cookies and drinks from the stewardess and don't give you either.

All these smart folks figured out how to make the power supply smart, too. Now it only smashes the gas when it has to, like when you're stuck in traffic and need to close an unexpected gap before that asshole in a Saab cuts you off again, can't he figure out what lane he's supposed to be in. We've got these little marvels sitting inside all of our light bulbs now, flickering the switch inside so quickly we can't even see. Dogs can see, the scientists think, but there's no dogs on this plane, right?

You try to climb over me, offering a weak excuse that it's time to go to the toilet. I agree. It is time to go to the toilet, but because you asked first, I'll let you go. I do, however, follow you there, and talk through the closed door the entire time. You see, it's not just that they're smaller and run cooler. The efficiency is off the charts. We would have run out of energy long before now, if all these computers and all these light bulbs had those old school linear supplies. Just absolutely preposterous.

By the time we've landed, we will be best friends, I reassure you as you make fake shitting noises with your mouth in an attempt to repel me. We're not even over South Dakota yet. Your point, however, is taken. I've been using up all the time talking and haven't listened to you one bit. The past is prologue, and I get that history lessons aren't everyone's cup of tea. In the spirit of this fragile, embryonic friendship, let's instead talk about how gallium-nitride is the potential future substrate of all power semiconductors.

[illiterateaffairs]

i like you

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T (really just language/dialogue nothing crazy)

word count: 1,116

summary: you and jamie have recently upgraded your fwb status to a full fledged relationship. you can’t help but gush over your favorite person and it’s exactly what jamie needs to hear. 

A/N: this is a (supposed to be) small drabble that takes place in a larger series i have been working on. so there’s more jamie x reader and backstory to come. all you need to know for now is that jamie and reader are in a new relationship that’s secret and this take place at some point in season 3 :)

It's a cloudy morning in Richmond, but the lack of sun isn’t darkening your mood. You and Jamie are taking a quiet stroll, your hands intertwined and swinging gently between you. You’ve been officially dating for a couple weeks now, after admitting your no-strings-attached situationship had garnered a lot of strings. Despite how apprehensive you were about entering a serious relationship, you are the happiest you have been in a long time. 

However, you have still been a bit reluctant to share your upgraded status with your friends. 

Sam knew. But Sam was your closest friend since you’ve started working for the club. You needed to confide in someone. 

Roy knew. But Roy’s been reserving all of Jamie’s time that wasn’t spent playing football or being with you. It was bound to come up.

Rebecca also knew. But Rebecca knew everything, 

But even now that you’ve confessed your feelings for each other to each other, you still wanted to hold off on telling the rest of the team. 

You told Jamie it was because you liked the little bubble you had created all these months; that it felt good not having other people but into your relationship. And while Jamie agreed that he liked having you all to himself, the voices in his head, the ones that told him he’d never be good enough- voices that more often than not resembled the sound of his father- tried to convince him it was because you were ashamed to be with him. It was all fun and games when you were just messing around, but did you really want to be known as Jamie Tartt’s girlfriend? He didn’t exactly have the best track record when it came to relationships. So maybe you just wanted to wait it out; see if you really wanted to be with him, or just keep it on the down low so it was easier to cut him loose when you inevitably realized that you were better off without him. 

Jamie tries to not let these intrusive thoughts win over, especially in moments like these where you’re out and about together. Publicly. With your hand in his. He tries not to dwell on the fact that its because you’re in an area of town no one from the club frequents, and because it's early enough in the day for him not to be recognized by rabid fans. But he takes what he can get. 

The two of you are walking through a small park as Jamie tells you what he thinks is a mindless story about training yesterday. However, you can’t help but listen like he’s telling the most important story you’ve ever heard. You smile fondly, watching his eyes light up as he recalls humorous interactions between him and his teammates, and how excited he seems to be that they’re making a lot of progress. You also don’t miss the inflection in his voice when he shares that Ted told him he was proud of the team player he’s been lately. 

In the middle of telling you about something funny Isaac said, a lone football rolls to a stop in front of Jamie’s feet. Pausing mid-sentence, Jamie clocks a group of primary school kids nearby and kicks it back to them. 

“Strong form, keep it up!” he calls over before continuing his anecdote. 

You let Jamie finish his thought, but you’re barely registering his words, too overcome with affection for him, even from the littlest things. Before he can start on another topic, you speak up.

“Hey,” you tug on Jamie’s hand, making you both stop, “I like you, you know that?”

Jamie turns to face you with a humorous look. “Uh, yeah, I’d say what we did last night made that pretty obvious.”

You scoff, shoving him playfully. “No, I mean I like you, Jamie.” His eyebrows furrow and you know he’s not getting it. “Yeah, sure, I’m attracted to you and you’re good in bed-”

Jamie snickers.

“Shut up.”

“Sorry.”

“But I also like you as a person, you know? I like that you’re thoughtful, and that you were one of the first people to suggest fixing up Sam’s restaurant after it was vandalized. It was also sweet that you were there for Roy while he was struggling with his breakup even though it was with your ex. That was big of you. So was giving up your position on the team so that others could score because you knew it was the better strategy. And that was so smart! I also appreciated how you spent your day off with me once, even though I was sick and just wanted to sit on the couch and watch Grey’s Anatomy. I like that you make me laugh and know what to say when I’m upset and genuinely care about my interests and what I have to say. I just really, really like you. In addition to like-liking you.” 

As you spoke, Jamie’s teasing expression morphed into one of surprise, eventually settling into one filled with emotion. He was touched. You believed he was thoughtful, generous, intelligent and kind? Those weren’t qualities people normally attributed to him. Jamie was used to being praised for his looks, his talent, and his fame but never his personality. He knew he wasn’t as much of a prick as he used to be, but he didn’t believe he was a good person. Certainly not good enough for someone like you. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was someone you could be proud of. 

As your words hung in silence and you finally took note of the tears in Jamie’s eyes, you suddenly felt self conscious. “Jamie, are you okay? Was that…was that too much?”

You give his hand a slight squeeze, snapping him out of his stupor. “Wha- no! I just…I’m just not used to hearing things like that.” 

You give him a supportive smile, cupping your other hand around his face. “Well, I’m happy to pay you compliments more often. Not too much, though. Can’t inflate your ego more than it already is.” 

He huffs out a laugh, “Too late, it's already gone right to my head.” 

You roll your eyes good naturedly, “Of course it has.” You rub his cheek gently with your thumb before leaning in for a chaste kiss.

You don’t need to worry about this making him any more cocky. Jamie Tartt’s confidence comes from knowing he’s a good looking guy and an even better footballer. But you’re not with him because he’s Jamie Fucking Tartt. You’re the first person to like just Jamie. In fact, you really, really like him. That doesn’t feed his ego. That just aids his heart. 

A/N: hopefully not too cheesy? lol i just needed jamie to feel appreciated! i hope you liked a sneak peek into this world. like i said, i plan to write the full story leading up to how jamie and reader get to this point. feel free to send me any feedback/thoughts/questions. its my first time writing in a WHILE and my first time writing jamie/the ted lasso world so trying to get a feel for the character’s voice and tone. if you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading! xo

[neoflect]

sharing some of my disorganized jojo musical thoughts now that ive had a week to sit on it and ive rewatched it several times over. i intended to wait to publish something like this until a subtitled version was available, but im not seeing any indication that thats happening any time soon so for now youll have to deal with my loose interpretations from my extremely rudimentary and rusty japanese… so take what i have to say about the finer points of characterization with a grain of salt. gratuitous spoilers below obviously, both for the original source material and the changes made in the stage production

my feelings are OVERWHELMINGLY positive. of course there are things i can criticize or that i would have personally done differently but oh man… i have literally not thought about anything besides this fucking show for a week. im 100% confident in saying this is a better adaptation of the source material than the tv anime. sorry to the davidpro staff, i respect their hard work and their love for jojo and their dedication to what is by any metric a pretty difficult property to adapt off of the page, but i dont know if i can ever forgive them for leaving half of the first episode’s storyboard on the cutting room floor in order to fit a standard half-hour tv slot, especially considering that what they cut is some of the really crucial character-building stuff. happily those scenes are not only reproduced in the stage version, some of them are expanded upon!

with the quick disclaimer that i’ve only managed to get my hands on the final 4/14 performance with shotaro arisawa and yoshihisa higashiyama, from what i’ve seen the casting is perfect. i’m sure there’s a rip of the 4/13 performance somewhere (i’ve seen clips) but i haven’t been able to find one… every single performer knocks it out of the fucking park, the cast chemistry is incredible and even the minor characters are loaded with charisma. and mamoru miyano… my god… mamoru miyano i owe you an apology. i was not familiar with your game. of course hes been killing it for decades at this point but i had soured on him a little bit recently because i felt like he was overcast in everything and i just didnt connect with his dnt reinhard at all, so when the casting was initially announced back in august i was underwhelmed, and of course my standards for the dio role in particular were astronomically high… i’ll go more into detail later in the post because i have so so many things to say about dio’s characterization here but mamoru miyano’s performance is like, life-changing. i had impossible expectations and he exceeded them.

sorry if im gushing. i am a hater by nature. its unusual for me to be so thoroughly pleased with something. im not even a musical theater guy. these are strange new feelings for me.

just to balance things out i’ll talk about a couple of the things that didn’t really work for me: first of all, the music is just ok. my initial draft of this post called the music “bad” but three additional viewings later i have warmed up to some of the songs. i don’t know if this is a shortcoming by dove attia as the composer or if it’s just me, as i said i’m not a musical guy and a lot of the genre conventions of musical theatre are not really the things i look for in music that i enjoy, but like… even at their worst they are serviceable. nothing here is sonically unpleasant to me. high points are “resolve of the ripple” (zeppeli’s hamon training song, a jazzy swing number - it’s simply catchy and fun to listen to) and the closer “phantom blood” (a sweeping ballad that reprises the earlier “light and darkness”/”golden spirit” leitmotifs into an epic duet between jonathan and dio as they join hands and walk off into the darkness together… made me cry! i wont lie! on every single one of my numerous viewings this one got me misty eyed!)

wait i forgot this is supposed to be the part where i’m being critical. ok my most loathed song in the musical is “dio’s world”. sorry dio nation. it doesn’t really work for me. i think this might be a case of my standards/expectations being too impossibly high because it’s not even really the worst song in the whole thing. and of course miyano eats it up so it’s not really his fault. i just find it kind of underwhelming… i find the melody a little grating, it’s kind of just a generic rock number, it’s just missing a particular je ne sais quoi…. the essence of dio isn’t there… lyrically though i am obsessed with the premise of dio recruiting his minions by selling himself as a kind of social revolutionary who is upending and inverting the brutal hierarchy of post-industrial victorian society with zombie blood magic. you win some you lose some.

the second sticking point for me is the costumes. they’re perfectly serviceable… adequate… but i mean when it comes to jojo “serviceable” and “adequate” costume design obviously falls well below what’s expected, right? a lot of the outfits have kind of a boxy, almost flat-looking kind of unflattering fit on the actors, which if i wanted to be generous i could attribute to the challenge of bridging the gap between these frail slender musical theater twinks and the two-meter-tall 250lb roided-out beefcakes theyre meant to be embodying. (bearing this discrepancy in mind a lot of the insane martial arts stuff in the second act doesn’t really land with the oomph that it should, but i also understand logistically why this kind of casting is not practical, and all things considered i think shotaro arisawa does a really incredible job of embodying jonathan joestar even though he kind of looks like i could snap him in half over my knee like a twig. he’s very cute. so i’m not mad about it.) of course, again, logistically, i understand that in a stage musical production, where actors only have minutes to complete costume changes, some sacrifices have to be made to the creative vision in the name of practicality. nevertheless this is jojos bizarre adventure!! i want to see some fucking baubles!!!!!!

which is all to say that… after carefully considering it for some weeks… i still have extremely mixed feelings about dio’s grink ass feather bathrobe look. it’s not that i dont think its something he could wear (the concept of dio lounging around in his gothic vampire palace doing re-animator style body horror experiments on the local wildlife in this “officer i have no idea what happened to my husband”-ass nightgown is nothing short of hysterical to me) but then he wears it into combat and i felt a little disappointed… it has the same unflattering fit issue as the other outfits in the show, and it is just such an un-araki-like design… where are the gaudy color combinations? the bizarre geometric patterns? the tease of an exposed boob/thigh/midriff? erina gets a stage-original dress design that i have fewer issues with because the excessive pleats and ruffles have more of an araki-esque sensibility, but every time i look at dio’s robe it feels like there’s something missing.  i’m going to choose to be nice about it because it’s not at all a deal breaker and, again, mamoru miyano devours the look. it’s fine. it’s always fun to have a new dio outfit. if anything, the fact that the blu-rays are being marketed as “2024 cast version” gives me hope for the possibility of a future production with a new vision for the costume design. (although the fact that this was such a difficult production - with stunts and pyrotechnics and moving setpieces - that its entire first week was cancelled indicates to me that the prospects for a future production from a different company are impossibly slim. i guess there’s always hope?)

in terms of the writing and the changes that were made from the original narrative, honestly i don’t really have an issue with anything that was cut. sorry if there are any diehard stans of Poco’s Unnamed Sister out there who are steamed that their favorite minor late phantom blood character got the axe, i kind of understand how you feel because i’ve been malding over david pro cutting the Danny Lore for eleven years, but i think it was the right choice and the story flows so much better. the real juicy meat at the core of phantom blood as a narrative and the thing that brings it head and shoulders above so much of the rest of jjba is the character-driven drama - that deliciously pulpy victorian gothic family tragedy - and the relationship between jonathan and dio. the musical beefs up the character drama and slims down the action-driven second half by trimming out the extraneous battles. the only real downside i see to this is that the absence of tompetty and his prophecy makes zeppeli’s arc and death feel INSANELY abrupt, but tbf that’s not a deal breaker for me. sorry zeppeli. you were born to die.

okay. okay. i think 1500 words into the post is enough fucking around so let’s talk about the real reason why you and i both know we’re here

musical dio is SO fucking sad. he’s positively wretched, you guys. he was born in a wet cardboard box all alone and forced to eat cement when he was six. he cries even more than he does in the source material and even when he’s not crying he frequently delivers his lines as though he is moments away from bursting into tears. back when the musical first opened i was snooping on the reactions on jpn twitter and one commenter said they could see miyano’s tears and snot from the nosebleeds even without opera glasses, a remark i initially assumed was hyperbole but that i now think probably was not. araki’s dio is certainly tortured and a deeply pathetic crybaby beneath all the cruelty and posturing, but changes in the musical and miyano’s embodiment of the character bring this pathos to the fore. he is literally haunted: dario’s ghost lingers, a manifestation of all of dio’s traumas and insecurities that emerges from the recesses of his memory to taunt him with the reminder that he will always be his father’s son, all the way up until the very minute that jonathan breaks down the door to his vampire lair. i am OBSESSED with this - not only for the obvious reason that i delight in dio’s suffering personally but also because kong kuwata is a delight and he fucking kills it every time. also lends itself to a category 10 leitmotif moment at the top of the second act when dio emerges from the charred ruins of the joestar estate singing dario’s theme and calling out to jonathan - if i had to pinpoint this is probably the moment when this musical stuck for me as the Real Deal. they Get It.

the first solo number in the show is dio’s disney princess I Want song (amazingly, simply titled “dio”) where he weeps for his late mother and his wretched lot in life, and then - in a creative decision that made me clap my hands and hoot and holler at my screen in real life - there is a reprise of this number (delivered, naturally, through tears) when dio is almost arrested for murder and decides to become a vampire instead. so there’s this amazing hopeful uplifting inspirational orchestral music accompanying the onstage action of dio ruthlessly slaying jonathan’s dad and then getting pumped full of lead by a bunch of cops. it is brilliant. 10/10 no notes. it’s moments like this that i think really sell the “softening” of dio in the stage version for me, even though i am historically Not A Fan of fanworks that take a similar angle - like, yes, he is sad, but specifically he is narcissistically obsessed with the spectacle of his own suffering, he is boiling over with bitterness and rage for everyone around him who (by his own estimation) could never hope to have suffered as much as he has. this sensitivity and self-pity he wallows in are not expressions of a guilty conscience or a desire to change - they’re entirely the opposite - every cruel and monstrous deed dio commits is always justified to himself because he is simply the saddest little boy who has ever existed. he has been done wrong by the world and so there is no limit to the depravity he may reasonably respond with. i’ve seen several commenters describe this as a drastically different interpretation of the character from araki’s dio (and someone told me on twitter that mamoru miyano himself has also said this, but i cba to go digging for an actual source so take it with a grain of salt?), but i… dont think thats the case! dio’s obsession with his own weakness and his self-perception as the eternal underdog (as compared to jonathan) are certainly more exaggerated in miyano’s performance, but i don’t think this is an angle to the character that’s been manufactured out of whole cloth. the genre conventions of the stage musical force the melodrama up to eleven and dio’s incredibly repressed angst is the most rich vein to mine for that. hair-trigger sadist dio is still here, it’s the same guy, he’s still killing people mercilessly, you’re just getting to see him sing a big ballad about his feelings instead of confining those to an internal monologue.

if anything, the exaggeration of dio’s pathetic/cowardly/crybaby traits combined with his megalomaniacal aspirations and bottomless well of cruelty is just right. it’s perfect. fucking around, finding out, and then trying to weasel his way out of the consequences with crocodile tears just so you don’t see him drawing his knife to cut you clean open… yeah. thats the stuff. thats my one true blorbo. sad to say i will love him for ten thousand years.

i think that might be all i have to say… or at least all i feel like saying here… most likely ill come back and edit this post later. i certainly have some additional thoughts and some more esoteric/controversial takes but they’re not suited for a public blog. real ones will understand. im keeping my eyes peeled for somebody to translate this thing but to be frank i am kind of enjoying this little corner of fandom as it is right now: just the asians and the true hardcore phantom blood phreaks. i have not had this much fun in jojo fandom in almost a fucking decade. as soon as somebody publishes an english version my timelines going to get flooded with all the most deeply annoying “kono dio da” “speedwagon waifu” reddit guys and 15 year olds and my suffering will proceed. unfortunately this is my lot in life and i am doomed to be here forever because dio put a worm in my brain

[twst-drabbles]

Azul and Jamil 1

Summary: Jamil wants to make a feast for no other reason other than he wants to spoil you, though he claims he simply feels like cooking. Azul joins in to help and bother him. Then, you accidentally cut your palm catching a knife.

(This one was fun. Loved writing the banter between Azul and Jamil.)

“You are not renovating my home, Azul,” you cut in, pointing your knife in his direction as his smile faltered, “I like it just the way it is. And stop trying to goad Jamil into this.”

“I’m nothing more than a humble assistant that’s not looking for trouble,” said Jamil, fully knowing what he’s saying is bullshit, “Besides, we’re not ‘friends’ as you like to say.”

When you put the knife down and continued to chop at the vegetables, only then did Azul put a hand over his heart, as though truly wounded. His tears were almost convincing, had you not known him for a while. And while you were all supposed to be cooking a feast.

“Do you really take me for someone so shallow? That I would go so far as to butter you up just to further my dream of opening a beautiful lounge complete with all the amenities that we have right here?”

By the end of that first half of his ramble, Azul finished washing the dirt off the vegetables. At least you don’t have to kick him out of the kitchen. Jamil’s tail started to rise behind Azul’s back, but a light tap of the blunt end of your knife got him to put it down. Jamil huffed but continued kneading the dough.

“Think of the money we could make! Think of all the things we can purchase and put into our rooms! And, most of all, think of what we could give to our precious caretaker here. Surely the concern I’ve been showing has to mean something to you.”

Honestly, it’s kind of endearing how hard he’s trying, mostly because it’s clear just how not used to making friends Azul is. A part of you wants to throw him a bone, but the bigger part of you knows that won’t go over well with Azul. Not in the sense that he won’t appreciate it, but that he won’t learn the social skills he needs.

The skills used to pull someone into giving a deal are not the same as the ones used to make a friend.

“It does mean something,” Oh? You turned your head towards Jamil as he paused in his kneading, “it means you’re irritating. Helpful, but irritating.”

“Oh I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m ‘irritating,’ as you say,” And Azul took that in stride, “more, ‘annoying.’ And isn’t annoying your peers a part of friendship? Especially when they’re not being truthful about their pure intentions. ‘A feast because you felt like it?’ Surely it isn’t because you wanted to spoil the caretaker.”

Jamil hissed under his breath and you couldn’t help but laugh. “No. Not at all. This is all just a simple whim.”

Right, right. So says this tender naga.

You turn back to continue chopping. And just as you were getting back into the rhythm while the two besides you had their little back and forth, the knife’s handle, wet with all the moisture from the vegetables, slipped from your grasp. And, like any human with instincts built in their body, your hand reached out before you would think to just let it fall to the ground.

You grabbed the blade. It sliced deeply into your hand and all you could do was gasp and hiss through your teeth.

“Ow…” blood didn’t gush so much as it flowed down like a horribly leaking faucet, “Oh no. Oh that’s pretty bad.”

Okay, no worries. Just put pressure on the wound with something.

“Uh, does anyone have a clean towel–” You looked up only to find Jamil completely blocking your view. His eyes were wide, lip a tighter line than it already was. Jamil’s tail, once behind him, was now brushing against your legs.

He didn’t say anything, only gently guided you to sit down with his flour covered hands. They were shaking.

“Azul,” he turned, almost sounding angry from his growing impatience, “the first aid kit is in the closet, by the door.”

“A-ah,” Azul, when you could finally see him, was frozen before Jamil’s words jolted back into being. Eyes once sparkling in their confidence now dimmed in a fog of confusion and fear, “the closet. It’s in the closet. I’ll… I’ll get it.”

His small voice didn’t suit the rush in his step.

“Just,” Jamil couldn’t grab your hands, not when they were dirty, but helped you press more firmly against the wound, “keep pressing.”

“I know, I know,” you did as said, “hey, can you get me my phone? I got to call Crowley so he can take me to a doctor.”

Why did you have to grab that knife? Now the feast’s going to be put off.

[leclsrc]

Uhhhh plsss number 24 prompt with Carlos

need some patience – cs55

genre: pwp, drabble, 1k celebration

24: deep kisses where they have their hands tangled in each other’s hair to pull them closer. title from this

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... fingering, dirty talk, praise, degradation too though

Carlos is criminally observant. It comes naturally, you suppose, what with racing and instincts and training and maybe even genetics. But the habit traverses outside of work, outside the car, and ends up putting you at great risk. Case in point, now—he’s got you caged underneath him, one of your hands on his firm chest.

“This is doing it for you.” He echoes what had started this conversation in the first place. You’d made an offhand remark about how big his hands are, how nice they feel, how dextrous his fingers look. “Turns you on.” Now he’s holding it against you, the little shit.

“I’d be clinically insane if it didn’t,” you talk back.

“Don’t get smart with me.” He smiles, leans closer and lets your lips meet. You’re grateful for it, tangling your hands in his hair and trying to pull him closer. The kiss deepens and you grow antsy, desperate for something more, bucking your hips upward to try and catch the friction you can’t find.

You whine, parting from him. “Please.”

“Tell me what you want,” he says, stern. You don’t need words. His thumb drags across your bitten lip, and on impulse—instinct, really—you drop it open, letting him press it onto your tongue. You suck on it, eyes glassy and begging, until his thumb’s wet and his vision is hazy.

“Fuck.” He runs it over your lips again, kissing you harder, tugging your tiny cotton shorts off. You’re wearing pink lace under, a bow right in the middle. A present.

“Touch me,” you say, on the cusp of begging. “Carlos, please.” He hasn’t even tugged your panties off and already your brain is half gone, reducing you to brief, stuttering sentences. 

“You know I love these,” he comments, his fingers light and ticklish around the lace. “You’re getting them all wet.” His hand comes down, a slap on your clit through the fabric that has you spasming with the sting, the subsequent pleasure. Your panties are pushed to the side, a gasp leaving you when he pushes two fingers in at once, already sensitive from waiting so long.

Carlos doesn’t need to physically restrain you, just mumbles something rough in your ear—“You’re gonna stay still for me, okay? Don’t move”—and you’re nodding along, docile, obedient.

You’re tight, muscles tensing when he curls his fingers and continues spilling filth from his mouth into your ear. You drop your head back, a throaty whine leaving you, trying not to move too much. Trying to be good for him. “Feels good?”

“Yea,” you murmur. “Amazing.”

He laughs, just as breathless as you are. “You like being stretched out like this? Bet you knew what you were doing commenting on my hands, baby. You knew you’d end up being fucked like this, hmm? You’re too spoiled, always getting what you want. Maybe I need to teach you a lesson, yeah? So you stop acting like a slut?”

“You’re being mean,” you whine. He curls his fingers hard and tears of overstimulation spring to your eyes, rolling softly down your cheeks. With a free hand, he wipes them away.

You hear yourself get wetter, sloppy around his fingers. He smiles. “Yeah? You’re getting wet.”

He pulls his fingers out to slap your clit, shoving them back in not even a minute later, not allowing a break. You whimper, writhing, fully disobeying his rule involuntarily. You’re so close, clenching hard around them, clit swollen and sensitive. He gazes down at you hungrily, his eyes darker than ever watching you whine and bounce around his fingers. And then his fingers curl just right and your whimpers taper off into nothing as you gush release all over his hand.

He’s praising you as you go, but it’s cloudy in the haze of your orgasm; you pull him close, let him nestle his head in the crook of your neck. You both stay put for a while. Then: “Your tongue isn’t so bad either.”