#he knows nothing about human psychology | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joelsgoldrush · 1 month

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“GUILTY PLEASURE” | 8.6k

logan howlett x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

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

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

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

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

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

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

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison

Allison:

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

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

Allison:

bitch

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah… that you knew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

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

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me neither.”

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

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

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

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

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

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

(But you aren’t.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck had just happened?

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

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

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

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

Your savior complex strikes again!

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

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

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

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

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

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

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

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

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

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

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

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

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

You could die at peace.

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

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

“Now why would you think that?”

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

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

“You don’t have to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I beg to differ.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Should I give you some space?”

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

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

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

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

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

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

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

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

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Careful.”

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

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

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

“Get your hands off her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

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

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

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

“I don’t have a phone.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

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

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

“Right here? On the counter?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“L-logan–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who had given him a damn script for this?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

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

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parfaitblogs · 19 days

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daylight ❀ s. reid x reader

in which communicating with your boyfriend is scary, and spencer reid can't stand to see you cry.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: comfort/fluff! tags: reader avoids her issues... for a little bit. that's kind of it. it's just fluffy and simple! word count: 1.5k a/n: something short & sweet because i thought it was cute and i write the most when i'm procrastinating assignments... um… inspired by a conversation sam willow and i were having a few nights ago🫂 reminder that pretty girls cry when they’re confronting somebody!!

Spencer Reid was not oblivious to all things in the world. In fact, he was rather perceptive compared to most people. Psychology degree and human behaviour-based job aside, he noticed things.

A lot of it was good. He knew exactly how to wake you up on mornings he started earlier than you. How to keep you half-asleep enough to allow you your return to sleep, but also awake enough to ensure you'd remember him kissing you goodbye (there had been an argument a few months ago about it — you thought he had left without a word). He knew your go-to Thai order from the restaurant down the street, and he knew which pair of wooden chopsticks your favourite were to pull out of his kitchen drawers.

He was also observant enough to know something was wrong.

He was back from a case. A long one, that had worn him down enough that he felt like a pile of creaking bones when he re-entered his apartment earlier that afternoon. You had returned from your own job an hour after that, and despite the initial excitement that came from your boyfriend being back in the state again, you were a bundle of nerves.

And he knew that.

You were on his couch, legs across his lap and back up against the arm, his hands resting comfortable in the dip between your two knees. There was a quiet episode of New Girl playing on the television (you had convinced him to watch it after he had sat you through every Star Trek movie), but your thoughts were anywhere but the sitcom you had been using to entertain yourself as of recent.

"You've been awfully quiet," Spencer said, piercing the less than comfortable air settled around you two.

"Sorry," you answered, tearing your gaze from the screen to look at him, meeting a worried expression you had somewhat expected.

Hands ran up and down your legs, erupting goosebumps along the skin. "Is something wrong?"

"No," you immediately shook your head and forced a smile onto your face. "Nothing's wrong."

He furrowed his eyebrows, lips parting in that confused look he always had on his face when he was thinking, and he stared at you for a few seconds longer, before, "Yes there is."

Profilers. "Seriously, Spence. There isn't. I'm just kind of tired tonight."

"I am as well," he said, hands stilling on your legs rather abruptly. "I was in Idaho for a week. I'm also exhausted. And usually my girlfriend is a little touchier and more talkative than this when I come home. So I'm assuming something's wrong."

"You're assuming incorrectly, then," your shoulders shrugged.

He said your name chidingly, and it was at that tone of voice that you retracted your legs from his lap, instead tucking your feet beneath yourself, gaze dropping to the couch cushion.

"I just missed you," you told him, a slight stretch of the truth.

"I missed you too," he said, and your shoulders softened. "But that's not all it is."

You blinked, before you fell silent, shaking your head instead.

"Talk to me. What's happened?" his voice was achingly soft, your heart shattering in your chest to the point you wanted to take back every thought you'd had over the past week and burn them to ashes. They didn't mean much now in front of him. Not when he was reminding you of how kind he was.

"You barely talked to me," you said, hands dropping to your lap, and you fidgeted with them under his gaze. "I never knew what was going on. You didn't call once, except for when you landed."

"I was really busy, honey," he answered, and you could hear the frown in his voice. "If I had time to do anything other than the case and sleep, you know I'd have talked to you more."

"I know," your voice shook, and you could feel your emotions overriding your brain. As usual. So, you kept your head down. "But I would've liked you to tell me that, at least."

You heard him sigh, and curiosity got the best of you as you lifted your gaze, inspecting to see if he was sighing out of irritation or not. He wasn't — just exhaustion — and that made you feel a little better.

"I know for next time then," he said, and he met your eyes, which had watered since the last time he looked at you. Which wasn't very long ago, and so he was drawing his eyebrows together, again, confusedly. "What's that? What's wrong?"

On instinct he leaned forwards, and you let him shift his body closer to yours, hands coming up on either side of your neck. You sniffled, trying to suck the tears threatening to fall back into your eye sockets.

"I can't communicate," you mumbled, quietly, a tear escaping and dripping down to the lower half of your cheek.

"You communicated pretty well just then, angel," he said, voice soft as he caught the remainder of the tear and swiped it away with his thumb.

"Yeah but—but now I'm crying," you moaned, pathetically, more tears slipping down your face. His lips twitched — though not in humour, you noted — as he adjusted his hands to your jaw, thumbs continuing to wipe falling tears.

"Yeah. That's okay," he answered. "You've got a flood of hormones going through you right now, and so your body reacts to it in the best way it sees fit. In your case, it's tears."

"I hate it," you mumbled, and this time he did laugh a little, nodding his head.

"I know," he said. "Are you feeling embarrassed about communicating with me?"

"I guess," you replied. "I don't know. I think I just..." you trailed off as your voice disappeared, breath beginning to hyperventilate acutely. "I—I just feel kind of sil—silly."

You cursed each sob that broke up your speech, and yet his gaze and focus on you never once wavered. In fact, his touch seemingly had grown softer, and the concern in his eyes had only grown.

"You aren't silly," he said, once he was sure you weren't going to continue speaking. "If me not talking to you for a week upset you, I'd say that's pretty reasonable."

"I don't know..."

"Want a secret?" he asked, fingers poking into your cheeks enough for you to crack a small smile. You only nodded your head in response, chest still jolting with each sharp intake of breath. "I have to physically restrain myself from calling you every hour on a normal day."

"You're lying," you mumbled, and his smile only widened, a bashful laugh leaving his lips.

"No, honestly. I have so much I want to talk to you about during the day, and I need to remind myself that you're busy and at work too."

A few uncontrollable tears dripped down your face, and your gaze dropped to the top of his shirt, though the smile never left your face. "I don't believe you."

"I wish you would, but that's okay," he said, evidently seeing right through your defying statement — you believed him a little.

His forefinger and thumb caught your chin, and he tilted your head back up so his eyes could meet your glassy ones.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, before he could get a word in.

"For what?"

"Crying."

"Do you take in anything I say to you?" he chastised, though the smile on his face eliminated any fear of him being genuinely irritated, and so your shoulders simply shrugged.

"Sometimes," you said, and his eyebrows shot up.

"Sometimes?" he repeated back to you, and you had to bite your lip to keep the amused expression off your face. He was smiling back at you, before his face settled into something more serious, as he continued, "I don't mind you crying, angel. It breaks my heart to see it, but I'm not sitting here and judging you for it. You know that, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good," he finalised with a short nod, and you sniffled with a nod of your own.

"I mean, technically, crying is good," you said, tongue poking between your teeth as you forced back a smile.

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"Releases endorphins and oxytocin."

He huffed a single laugh through his nose, nodding his head. "Yes. It does."

"I know things," you grinned.

"You do," he agreed with a nod. "My smart girl."

"Yeah. Don't ever forget it."

"I could never," he replied, and a comfortable silence enveloped your two bodies, your heart fluttering in your chest.

"Can you tell me about Idaho?" you finally asked him.

"You really want to know?"

You nodded your head, and he sighed, but complied regardless. And you eventually found your head in his lap, staring up at him as one hand danced gently over the skin of your slightly exposed stomach, the other entangled in your hair, brushing through it.

And he told you about the case he had been away on — it became glaringly obvious behind why he hadn't called or messaged you at all — and consequently eased any other remaining worries behind it.

And it dried your tears up.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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a-b-riddle · 4 months

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Okay, but having to explain “the bear vs the man trend” to the 141.

CW: Sexism, harm against women.

Johnny’s immediate reaction is the man. “The man’d be easier to kill. Dinnae ken if I could fight a bear.” He answers. “But what kind of bear is it?”

You have to explain that killing either is not an option. The prompt is would you feel safer in the woods with a man or a bear.

Gaz asks if the man is armed because that could play into a factor for him. You say both have the ability to inflict harm to you and kill you. Now you just straight up ask which one?

Simon would unfortunately understand why you chose the bear, but waits until you have to spell it out for the others.

"As a woman, the worst thing a bear could do to me was kill me." You explain. You tell them about some of the other things women felt when choosing a bear.

The bear would look at me and see a human.

The bear would kill me for survival. The man would kill me for pleasure.

I trust my dead body with a bear more than I do a man.

They say nothing as you read the reasonings out loud. They understand your reasoning and the subject changes.

It's not until it's close to ten in the evening that you see Captain who was the coincidentally missing turning the hangout with the others earlier.

"Captain," you greet. "Is everything okay?" You can't help but notice the crease between his brows. The worried look in his eyes that gives him away.

“Just, a quick question if you don't mind." He said, waiting for confirmation to continue. You nod, curious as to why he had come all the way to your barracks.

"I spoke to the lads and well-" He clears his throat. "Hypothetically, if we were in the woods,” Price began, feeling foolish for asking you, but needing to know. “You’d pick us? Knowing it was us and who wer are. Right?” His question was more than just would you choose them over the bear.

Did you trust them?

In truth, you trusted them with your life. They had your back time and time again and you just never got that vibe from them. They were never "boys being boys" in the same way you had grown up knowing men to be.

"Boys being boys" around here was when one of the shadows had made a sexist remark so Johnny sneaking into their bathrooms and giving one of their three toilets an upper decker.

Ghost had played bodyguard after that, ensuring none of them dared to fuck with you.

Kyle had went into psychological warfare by finding pictures of the women they had back home and printing out the photos and hanging them up all over the base.

And Price had some choice words with Graves ensuring that the next one of his men to step out of line would get a fucking bullet to the head.

There weren't many men in this world who ever made you feel safe not only as a fellow soldier, but as a woman.

"Yeah," you reply. "I'd choose you."

#call of duty blurbs #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick

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sukirichi · 4 months

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𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 | 𝐒. 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮

— in which you and your fuck buddy pretend to date, which totally won’t lead to feelings at all, right?

content / warnings. toxic college settings. explicit smut. MINORS DNI. choking. exhibitionism. fingering. making out. masturbation. voyeurism. toxic characters. reverse cowgirl riding. implied dub-con. friends with benefits. fake dating. unedited.

dedicated to @kyriaan

The sixth beep of your phone that cursed morning had you shuffling around your bag for the device, fishing it out and muting it with exasperation. To no one’s surprise, he was the sole topic again. Oikawa this and Oikawa that — how he’d be such a great boyfriend to you and your friends could also go on dates with his equally charismatic friends; you were tired of hearing the same thing over and over again.

“Funny seeing you here,” a bored voice drawled out, the scraping of a chair against the floor snapping you to your senses. “Never in my whole life did I imagine I’d find you hiding in a library of all places — are you reading Freud? His theories are shit. They’re not even scientifically proven.”

You raised a brow at Suna Rintaro, your not-so friend friend.

You and Rintaro had a strict friends with benefits relationship.

It started with meeting at a party once when you needed a release from the stress of finals, you made out on the crowded dance floor and found yourselves tangled in the sheets with barely any memory of the night before. The rest was history. Soon, you ran into him more often than you’d expected, and it wasn’t long before you added his name into speed dial.

Funnily enough, you weren’t that close to him.

You either knew everything about him or knew little to nothing. Most of the time you spent with Rintaro would be when you two were drunk out of your minds, bodies too occupied with moving against one another that ‘getting to know each other’ had never been a thing.

For some reason, however, Rintaro was someone you could trust with your whole heart. You just wouldn’t date him because you weren’t looking for a relationship, and neither was he.

Both of you loved the arrangement you had now.

“Why do you know so much about Freud? I just randomly picked up this book.”

Rintaro shrugged, “‘Hooked up with a girl in Psychology once; she was pretty hot, but you’re still my favourite,” winking, he chewed on his gum before snatching the book away from you.

A protest nearly fell from your mouth when a mop of wavy, dark hair sauntered inside the library, taking long, confident strides as he chatted with Iwaizumi. Eyes widening, you ducked your head behind Suna, desperately clutching the hoodie clad on his stiff back.

Rintaro glanced downwards at you, “You’re hiding like you murdered somebody’s pet. Should I be worried or should I help you in hiding someone’s body?”

“Literally shut up. Oikawa is right there.”

“Oikawa... Tooru?” following your line of sight, Rintaro’s back slouched at the same time his lips curled into a mischievous smile. You could tell he was stifling his laughter; the vibrations of his back spoke enough of his urge to betray you. “Oh, he’s looking here. At you, I might say — care to explain?”

“I have nothing to explain to you. We’re not even friends.”

“Ouch,” Rintaro clutched at his chest, “That hurt. Weren’t you at my dorm like five nights in a row last week? You didn’t want me to leave the bed either. I thought we had something special!”

“Suna Rintaro, I am not fucking around with you. Shut up. I swear if Oikawa walks here, I’m never talking to you again.”

As if to prove a point, you plopped until your upper body squished against his back and the chair, cheeks puffing out in frustration as Rintaro sighed. “Okay, you don’t have to explain anything to me, but come on. You’re using me as a human shield and I have zero context on what’s going on,” he tapped your thigh, head slightly tilted to the side with a wary eye out for Oikawa. “Listen, if he’s bothering you, I could deal with it. He looks like the type of guy who doesn’t know what ‘no’ means so if that’s the case, stop hiding. I can help you with it. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

Your grip on his hoodie listened. Peering up from the bottom of your lashes, you nervously licked your lips. “Wait... you mean that? You’ll really help me?”

“Yeah! You send me nudes that motivate me to ace my exams so this is the least I could do.”

“You just have to make everything sexual, don’t you?” you rolled your eyes and ignored Rintaro’s shameless smile. Scanning the room, you glared at Oikawa’s direction before sitting up and gluing yourself to Rintaro’s hip, whose brow raised but said nothing otherwise. “Okay, so the thing is... my friends may or may not have set me up with Oikawa. They kind of gave him false hope I’m really into him — which I never will be because he has a shitty personality — but he’s not having any of it. He insisted I should go with him on just one date, and if I still don’t change my mind about him, then he won’t push further. Otherwise, he really doesn’t take no for an answer. He’s everywhere that I ended up blurting out I was already dating someone.”

Rintaro rested his chin on his palm. “That’s a lot of information to take in,” he mused, “So... you need help in finding a fake boyfriend, is that it?”

“About that,” with guilt written all over your face, you scratched the back of your neck and chuckled, making sure to avoid eye contact the entire time. “You were the first one to come to mind so I told him I was dating the middle blocker from his team. The uhm, guy who stays up until three am fighting in Twitter threads.”

Rintaro’s jaw dropped. “No way,” he clicked his tongue, hands coming up to ball beside your cheeks as he fought the desire to squeeze your cheeks. Meanwhile, you blinked at him innocently, lower lip jutted out in hopes you’d appease him — which more or less worked as he slumped in his seat. “I can’t believe you dragged me into this.”

“I didn’t have a choice!”

“You did and you chose to date me!” Rintaro hissed under his breath, “Jeez, if you wanted us to be official, you could’ve said so. I would’ve thought about it,” exhaling through his nose, Rintaro pushed his hair back, his head too much of a mess to notice you getting flustered. “Fine. I’ll be your fake boyfriend, but don’t you dare fall in love with me. Our condition when we started sleeping together was that we’re limited to casual relationships only. I like our arrangement already, and you mean a lot to me as a friend so I don’t want to lose you, alright? Whatever we’re doing, it’s all going to be an act.”

“Deal,” you shook his hand, face lighting up at how it didn’t take much to convince him. “Now go to the party with me tonight. We’ll show Oikawa why he can’t have me.”

The sight of bodies grinding onto another and music blaring through the speakers weren’t new to you and Rintaro. You’d both seen the same scene a thousand times before, having been part of that crowd at one point. Yet, tonight felt different from rest. The music felt muted as you walked through the door with Rintaro’s hand down on your waist, the stench of alcohol and sex overpowered by the musky perfume your fake boyfriend wore.

You couldn’t think clear around him.

You tried to blame it on the jitters that set your nerves on fire, anxiety pooling in your stomach at the thought Oikawa made it clear he wanted to see you tonight.

Of course, you weren’t stupid. Knowing the guy infamous for his reputation for sleeping around and changing partners like they were his clothes, he wouldn’t give up once he had his eyes set on someone. It just so happened that unfortunate person had to be you.

“Relax,” Rintaro breathed into your ear, pulling you closer by the hip when you weaved through the people nearly fucking on the floor. The sudden gesture had you jolting for a split second. Blinking, Rintaro’s reassuring smile greeted you with a tinge of amusement, his gaze tracing down your nails forming crescent moons on his arm. “Do you really have to cling to me all night?”

“We’re supposed to be a couple madly in love, remember?” you reminded with a bounce of your heel, surveying the throng of people milling in and out of the frat house in search of Oikawa. “You should kiss me too as soon as we see him. Then he’ll stop bothering me and we can be over with this fiasco.”

“Asking just in case, but how should I kiss you? Like a peck?”

“Kiss me like you want the whole world to know I’m yours,” you said nonchalantly, not thinking too much of it since this was supposed to be an act. Until a horde of loud males started cheering as soon as they entered the room, the crowd welcoming Oikawa and his friends warmly when Rintaro suddenly grabbed you by the wrist, twisting you to face him. The last thing you saw before Rintaro tilted his head to the side to press his lips to yours was the look of utter horror on Oikawa’s face.

Although, honestly, who cared? Rintaro tasted like beer and strawberries, his musky scent clouding your senses that your eyes closed in response.

Knees weakening, you grabbed onto Rintaro’s shoulders to steady yourself, gasping into his greedy lips when you felt him squeeze your hip possessively. You groaned into the kiss, your hands running up to play with the ends of his hair as Rintaro’s back hit the wall, his bent leg trapped between your thighs. He quickly took the chance and nudged his knee on your clothed pussy. Your skirt grazed against your sensitive core that you attempted to pull away to breathe, but Rintaro wasn’t having any of it.

Smirking beneath you, Rintaro hooked a finger into the chains dangling from your skirt and pulled you flush against him. You had no time to react before he was pushing a tongue past your lips. Warm, wet muscles danced against each other as Rintaro memorized the taste of you the same way you did for him — not a single care about air anymore when he made those low, deep whimpers setting fire to your loins.

But just as soon as you leaned in for more, his hair tugged backward to deepen the kiss, Rintaro pulled away. “That’s how I’d kiss you if I were your boyfriend,” he declared, pads of his thumb swiping against his moist lip swollen from the little nips you gave him — the look of pleasure and satisfaction displayed all over his handsome face that told you how much he enjoyed your needy whines.

You gaped at him, your skin burning from being edged.

Rintaro flicked you on the forehead. “Don’t look at me like that. You asked me to kiss like I wanted to let the world know your mine, and he was looking. Besides, we need to show someone who you belong to, right?” pushing his weight off the wall, Rintaro lightly bit your earlobe as you breathed hard, his sharp, cold gaze focused on a flushed red Oikawa standing across the room. “I have a better idea if you’re up for it.”

Arms crossed against your chest, you wrapped your arms around his waist in faux affection, when in reality you only needed to hear what he said through the loud music. “What do you have in mind?” The smirk on Rintaro’s face was as loud as a warning siren.

“Turn around.”

Even if you didn’t want to, Rintaro wasn’t asking. He spun you around by the shoulders, your back flushed against his chest when you felt his knee nudge between your legs once more. His fingers calloused from playing volleyball snaked past your thigh and dangerously close to your heated pussy. “This is what I had in mind,” he whispered, his voice sending tingles straight down your spine. “Let’s burn that pretty face of yours into his head. Show him what he can’t have.”

Your dignity told you to say no. To be fingered in public like this was less than ideal, even more so when your lace panties dangerously flashed into view. Yet, you found yourself arching your back to retaliate.

Ass nudging against Rintaro’s hardening cock, you smirked upon hearing his low groans. One palm cupped your ass as a warning before he playfully snapped your underwear against your thigh, a wince painting your half fucked out features from the sting. Glancing at him from the side, you sneered, about to protest when he wiggled his free hand and cupped your pussy.

Your mouth hung open.

Oikawa’s drink fell from his hands. No longer was he paying any attention to his friends, rather on the way you keened and your tongue threatening to loll out your lips the moment Rintaro’s thumb flicked your clit.

“You’re such a naughty slut. Who knew you were into this?”

“He’s watching, Rintaro,” you whimpered, gripping at his wrist like he wasn’t knuckle deep in your pants already. “Someone could see and think we’re—”

“That’s the point,” lowering his mouth onto your neck, you gasped at his teeth sinking down on the skin. Behind you, you could hear the hand on your ass disappear at the sounds of a belt unbuckling, fuelling your imagination to both the best and worst scenarios. Rintaro wasn’t far behind in his surprise as were you; you never expected you’d enjoy giving someone a show either, much less cum on the spot the second Rintaro’s cock slipped inside you. “Aw, fuck, did you just come undone for me? I haven’t even done anything yet.”

You shook your head, palms slippery with sweat as you held onto his slick hands squeezing your waist. The music was no longer audible from the pounding of your heart. Hell, you could barely feel your legs when Rintaro mumbled something incoherent around you before he guided your connected bodies onto a nearby couch.

Plopping down with your weight on top of him, you held onto his knees for dear life. Rintaro settled on the leather couch occupied by a stoned student laughing by himself, the latter’s chuckles halting when he was greeted by the sight of your hazy eyes and pants falling from your mouth. Meanwhile, Rintaro rested his arms on the back of his head. He didn’t have to lift a finger, much less give a command for you to know he wanted you to ride him right here — if you looked straight across, Oikawa would be right before you a few feet away, his frown deeply engraved into his face.

“Rin, I...”

He sat up in a flash at the hesitance in your voice, warm hands wrapping around your waist protectively. It took you a second to realize he hid his nestled cock from everyone’s prying eyes in case you weren’t comfortable, but the gesture did nothing but make you clench around him harder — both from the anxiety and anticipation.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you wanted people to watch. You wanted him to see Rintaro had total control over your body, no matter how humiliating the situation might be.

“Do you want us to stop? Should we go somewhere else?”

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you bent your legs to rest beside his thighs, fingers looping around the ones hooked under your breast to steady yourself before you lifted your hips, then slammed back down. Again and again, until sweat dripped from your head to your jaw, you kept eye contact with a red-faced Oikawa. All the while as you bounced on Rintaro’s dick and threw your head back, laughing with your whole chest at the lights spinning from the ceiling since it reminded you of the seventh heaven you were in.

Rintaro let you go at your own pace, his grunts and garbled utterances of your name blending with the party wilding from the background. You could feel him twitching inside of you. His cock bumped and grazed your walls until the tip kissed a particular sensitive spot that had you losing your balance for a moment, nails digging into his ripped jeans to catch your breath.

“Goddamn,” Rintaro cursed, stealing away your ability to breathe with his hand snaking into your neck. “You dirty fucking slut, getting off to acting like a whore in front of the whole campus, huh? Go on. Show them how you’re such a whore for my cock.”

You couldn’t swallow down your words.

Rintaro’s grip on your neck had you on a literal chokehold, strong enough to deprive you of air and tighten around him, but not to a point you felt lightheaded. If anything, the power he displayed only fuelled you to ride him harder. Drawing figure eights with your hip, you could feel drool smearing your lipstick as the red stains smudged against Rintaro’s palm, the sound of slick and skin slapping against skin like music to your ears.

Only Rintaro could ever make you feel this way.

From the night you’d met him, each time you fucked would be the best experience of your life. Not once had he failed in bringing you over the edge or experimenting with the most absurd positions you’d never thought of before, and now you were returning the favour.

You rode his cock like it was your last mission. ‘Death by cock’ didn’t sound like such an unfavourable thing either, not when it meant losing yourself in his thick girth spreading you wide and the lewd sight of your cum sticking to his thighs. His jeans were a mess, but Rintaro never complained. He didn’t care then, and he wouldn’t care now. Seeing you dirty his clothes, your sweat dampening his shirt and your own cum coating his cock like a rewarding trophy of what felt like the best night of his life — Rintaro didn’t give a single fuck about the mess.

“F-Fuck, Rin, I’m coming!”

Rintaro held your waist, taking over with complete control as he slammed your hips up and down his twitching cock, curses falling back and forth from his mouth. “Cum on me,” he ordered. Resting his chin on your shoulders, Rintaro’s other hand twisted your jaw in the direction of Oikawa biting his lip, his hand suspiciously following your movements from under the luminescent lights. “Look at that dirty fucker. Let’s show him what he missed out on, yeah?”

A burst of warmth exploded inside you. You were too stunned to move, thighs burning from the ache that you accepted it with delight before falling back into Rintaro’s chest. “That was the best fuck of my life,” you admitted through lidded eyes, “But we’re fucked tomorrow. The whole campus is going to talk about us.”

“Let them.”

Post-nut clarity hit you hard like a truck.

Albeit expecting the rumours and looks you’d be getting the next day, the blatant impressed stares mixed with some envious ones never got easier by the end of classes. Everywhere you went, people would be whispering. But like Rintaro always used to say each time you cried to him, there’d be light at the end of the tunnel, because the best part of it all that made everything worth it?

Oikawa avoided you like the plague. Not because he was appalled of what he’d witnessed and what he’d done, but rather word spread out how he’d been rejected.

For the first time in his life, Oikawa Tooru felt humiliation, at the hands of his own teammate, no less — something Rintaro took pride in when you crashed by his room that night.

“You should’ve seen the look on his face. It was priceless,” he snickered while scrolling through the phone, about to comment when the door swung open, revealing a carbon copy replica of Rintaro. In female version.

Rintaro quickly shot out of bed and threw a blanket over your head, stalking to the girl standing with her mouth hanging ajar at the door. “What are you doing here? I thought you guys wouldn’t be home until the weekend. Plus, how’d the fuck you get inside the dorms? You’re not supposed to be here, Remi.”

Remi ignored him. “Are you hiding your girlfriend? Mom needs to know about this, she’d love to meet her!”

That was how you found yourself stuck to Rintaro in a cramped booth with his family not an hour later. You awkwardly picked at your food, stealing glances at an equally silent Rintaro while his younger sister, Remi, kept babbling about how her brother hid a girlfriend this whole time. His family went out of town for business for a while, but since they got home earlier, they decided to surprise Rintaro with a visit.

He sure was surprised, and so were you since they hadn’t stopped calling you ‘dear’ ever since.

His parents were nice — they warmly welcomed you and even invited you to have dinner with them sometime at their house. Mrs. Suna would whip up a meal to welcome you as part of their family, saying that you should consider it a thanks for making their son smile. Remi was the most excited out of all them. She’d been wanting an older sister for a while now, and she hadn’t stopped clinging onto your arm the whole time until her parents forcefully snatched her away when it was time go back home.

The entire walk back to the dorms felt suffocating.

None of you spoke a word, not until you arrived at your building and Rintaro shoved his hands down his pockets, swinging back and forth on his feet. “So... are you free this Friday? You should come have dinner with us.”

“You’re seriously asking me that?”

“Why not? You’re invited. Don’t be rude and not go.”

“It’s not being rude, Rintaro, you’re asking me to lie to your parents,” you snapped, halting in your tracks to stare at him in disbelief. “They adored me all because they think I’m dating you, but we’re not the least bit close to that. We just fuck and call it day, maybe hang out when we’re bored, but we don’t know each other at all. And weren’t you the one who told me that we can’t be more than just fuck buddies?”

Rintaro rolled his eyes. “You’re right, but I agreed to pretend to be your boyfriend to push Oikawa away. Now do me a favour and keep up with the fake girlfriend thing. My parents will be devastated if I tell them we’re not real.”

“I don’t want to lie to them!”

“It’s not a big deal! Why’re you making a mountain out of everything? So because the deal on my side doesn’t require fucking, you’ll back out just like that?”

Your mouth hung open in shock. “It’s because I don’t want to be your fake girlfriend, Rintaro, I want to date you for real!” you blurted out, eyes widening at the same time Rintaro’s cheeks flushed. Realizing what you just said, you inwardly regretted it with a grimace. “I’m sorry. You said we can’t be more than that and I know I just ruined our friendship, but I’m really sorry. I can’t bring myself to lie to your family like that, and I don’t want to lie about my feelings either,” hanging your head down low, you bit the insides of your cheeks. No matter what you said, you couldn’t take it back anymore.

“Rintaro, I like you. You make me happy and I want to do the same for you, but I understand if we’re done now. It was nice to have met you.”

Without waiting for his response, you ran back into the building when a hand wrapped around your wrist. You stared at the long fingers and to the arm connected to it, heart sinking into your chest when you came face to face with Rintaro’s handsome face.

“You didn’t even give me a chance to speak.”

“I’m sure you don’t want to be near me, Rintaro.”

Rintaro sniffed, averting the intensity of your gaze and shrugging his shoulders shly. “On the contrary... I’d like to spend every waking minute with you,” he mumbled so soft that you wouldn’t have heard it if you didn’t listen hard enough, but you did, and you were left gaping at him with warmth spreading through your skin. You stood there, watching as Rintaro laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head. “Sorry if I said that a little too late, but yes. I’d like to be your real boyfriend. Then I can fuck you exclusively because I don’t think I like the idea of you riding other people like that.”

You swatted his arm away with a laugh. “That’s the reason you want to date me?”

“There’s other reasons too like how I love talking to you and I want to get to know you more,” he cupped your face, grinning when his palms felt the warmth emanating from your skin. “And also, I want to do this more with you.”

Leaning down, Rintaro kissed you under the flickering lights of your hallway, the both of your lips stretching into a smile. In a way, you were thankful your friends tried setting you up with someone else, because if you’d known it would lead you to realizing your feelings for Rintaro, you would’ve asked him to date you a little earlier.

#suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader fluff #suna x reader smut #suna rintaro smut #suna rintaro x reader smut #suna x you #suna x you fluff #suna x you smut #rintaro suna x reader #suna x reader romance #suna rintaro x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!! smut #suna rintarou smut #suna rintarou x reader smut #rintaro x reader smut #🖤. after dark

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 1 year

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*NSFW* How to train your pet Human pt. 3 (Yandere!Alien x GN!Reader)

CW: Dub-con, mild psychological distress, mind break, dead dove fic

Part 1, part 2

Kirtch slumped over his friend's standing chair, miserable and mopey.

A tall creature, taller than even Kirtch, sighed dramatically, sauntering around their depressed friend with a smaller horned being crawling behind them.

"I don't understand what I'm doing wrong." Kirtch whined pathetically in Jaudna's native tongue. Jaudna made a gurgling sound with the soft spot on their head, the closest human equivalent being someone rolling their eyes. They sprawled across their lounging seat, motioning for their pet to stay on his knees.

"I'll tell you exactly what you've done wrong. You pampered them too much."

"I punish them!"

"You punished them for their escape attempt. That was it. You've allowed your pet to test your authority in plenty of ways after that."

The man on his knees pleaded with his eyes to be let up, but stayed perfectly still, like he wasn't alive. Kirtch noted Jaudna's pet's demeanor with discomfort. That discomfort only lasted until he imagined (Reader) in that same position, looking up at him with their large dewy eyes, waiting so patiently to be held by him... his discomfort was replaced by jealousy.

"You don't understand, (Reader's) such a sweet little pet, and whenever they struggle they're so cute about it. I just can't understand why they aren't happy."

"Humans' minds are incredibly flawed. According to the few psychological texts I have gotten my claws on over the years, their memory is not set in stone like ours, it is fickle and easily manipulated. One of my books referenced a case in the nation called 'The United States of America' where nearly the entire country fell into panic over an imaginary evil, because a few doctors used a phoney science called 'hypnotism', a practice they believed could help recover forgotten memories, on a bunch of children, but accidentally implanted false memories of abuse, leaving the children traumatized, believing that they had been victims of a horrific occult."

Kirtch looked to his good friend nervously. "Are you implying I do something nefarious to my pet's mind?"

"No, I'm showcasing an example of how stupidly easy it should be to train your pet to love you." They tossed a book into Kirtch's hands, the cover printed with a photograph of a wild looking man, with fluffy hair and dark, hateful eyes. "Hypnotism isn't the only creative way humans have learned to reprogram each other."

Kirtch almost threw the book back, but saw Jaudna's unnamed pet still sitting so patiently for his master, and the pain in his body where his heart may have been throbbed again. "Thank you.. Jaudna."

(Reader) had waited for what they assumed to be well over an Earth day, alone in Kirtch's quarters, waiting for his return. The only company they received were the employees who brought their meals, speaking down at them in a language they didn't know, but could understand the disgust. It had been over a month since their fight with Kirtch. Every day since had been nothing but hell, feeling like their heart had been ripped out, they laid in their bed cage, only moving when necessary, allowing themselves to hide away inside their own mind.

The main door opened again, and (Reader) could hear Kirtch's long, graceful steps as he passed through the study and into the bedroom. "(Reader)? Are you still in bed?"

In an act of defiance, (Reader) kept their mouth shut, pulling the blanket tighter around their shoulders. But it was of little use, as Kirtch easily lifted their purposefully dead weighted body out of the bed.

"I'm sorry I was gone for so long, pet, but I had to see an old friend for advice." He carried (Reader) back to his desk, sitting them in his lap, fighting to hold them upright as they flopped about limply. "(Reader), please sit up so I can take off your shirt."

He began working on the wrists, the intricate metal cuffs with multiple buttons that almost acted like locks, and (Reader) subtly straightened their back to give him better access to the neck corset thing, thankful to finally have it off for a couple hours at least. (Reader) had grown to find it somewhat elegant the past few months, but it still was an incredible pain in the ass.

Feeling the air on their neck was bliss, and (Reader) immediately ran their fingers over their skin. (Reader) breathed a deep sigh, relaxing their body unintentionally. But almost as soon as their hands left their throat, a new collar was latched into place, a loud mechanism clicking as it tightened, stabbing the back of their neck with what felt like a fixed needle.

(Reader) cried out in pain, sprawling out their limbs on reflex, pushing themselves out of Kirtch's embrace and onto the floor, lying naked on their knees as they clawed at the collar, desperate to relieve the pain.

"What?? Why?" Their voice was barely audible through their sobs.

"I'm so sorry my pet, the pain will end soon, wait-" Kirtch pushed a button on what looked like a remote, and (Reader) could physically feel the rush of liquid enter their body, then the pain lightened, leaving (Reader) almost euphoric in it's absence.

"What is this? Why did you do this?" Betrayal laced their tone, and Kirtch looked almost on the verge of tears, but he stood still, refusing his urge to scoop up his little pet and beg for forgiveness.

"I know now that I didn't train you correctly, and for that I am sorry. I've given you too much leeway, and that is why you've been so unhappy." He took a ragged breath, thumbing the controller as he thought out his words. "I didn't want to do this, but I care about your happiness. This is for the best."

"So you put a shock collar on me?" (Reader) asked incredulously, spitting venom.

"No, nothing barbaric like that!" Kirtch looked hurt, flinching as he almost dropped onto his knees to comfort (Reader). "I just need to convince you that you're happy here with me, just as I did the first night you were here, to help you release your stress."

(Reader) remembered the shot he gave them, that first night when Kirtch used a toy to get them off, the hormones he artificially added to their body to make them feel pleasure, and then thought about the pain in the back of their neck. The color drained from their face. There were only two options; plead or double down.

"You can manipulate me all you like, I'll never be happy here." A tear escaped as (Reader) transformed their hurt into anger. "I deserve someone who will love me, not as a pet, but as an equal. Because I am a human fucking being. And we have partnerships. We don't jack off our pets, we do not love our pets like we love the people we have sex with, because that- that is not okay! Why did you.." (Reader) couldn't stop themselves from crying, looking up to try to at least slow the waterworks.

The silence between them was loud. (Reader) turned away, wiping away their snot with their bare arms.

"Pet, noun; a domestic or tamed animal kept for companionship or pleasure. Adjective; denoting a thing that one devotes special attention to or feels particularly strongly about." (Reader) looked up, horrified. "Your's may not be my first language, but I feel I had a pretty decent grasp on my understanding of what a pet is."

Kirtch placed a hand over his face to hide his expression.

"You'll be happier once this is all over. I promise."

"You son of a-!" (Reader) couldn't finish their sentence, more fluid passed into their spine, followed by an immediate sense of emptiness. Extreme anxiety flooded their body, causing severe stomach pain almost instantly. They collapsed, holding onto their midsection, their bare skin clammy. "What? Why?"

"No more talking back to me, pet." Kirtch kept his voice steady.

(Reader) cried out, rapidly becoming exhausted from heavy nothingness filling their body. "Please.. stop.."

Kirtch nodded, appearing relieved. He pushed another button, and the emptiness ebbed away, leaving (Reader) numb.

"I don't understand why you're doing this." (Reader) weakly grumbled, too tired to pick themselves up.

"Because I want you to be happy."

"I'll never be happy with you."

"Why?"

"Because! I deserve to be loved!"

"I love you-"

"Fucking liar." (Reader) snarled, knowing that this would cause them to be punished again, but needing to get in the last word. Kirtch looked so miserable, so crushed by (Reader's) words, but they felt vindicated by his pain. They needed to twist the knife deeper.

He smiled, so sadly, and grabbed a blanket, bending onto one knee as he covered his pet. "I love you, (Reader)."

Their heart clenched, and their face flushed. Immediately they searched his hands for the remote. "S-stop that."

"I love you."

Chemicals pumped into their neck, making (Reader) feverish and causing their thighs to ache. Their breath hitched, and tears of betrayal escaped. "I hate you."

"I know."

More pain gripped their throat, regret causing physical discomfort. "Why are you doing this?"

His smooth shelled fingers caressed their jaw, tenderly cradling (Reader's) face as though he needed them. Kirtch's touch sent shivers across (Reader's) skin, and they couldn't tell if it was because of the collar or their loneliness, but they wanted to pull him closer, make him touch them more.

"I will live for much longer than you. I will watch you grown old, and die. Even then, I will still love you. You are the most incredible creature I've ever met. I don't mind if you push me away, and slap at me. I just want you to be happy, at least most of the time." His head grew closer, his hardened face almost brushing (Reader's). "Let me make you happy."

'I need to fight back. Make him pay! I'm practically a slave! He bought me! I'll never see my family again because of him!'

(Reader) leaned forward, mind melting through their ears from the intense heat, and smashed their lips onto where his should have been.

All rational thoughts were drowned out by the intense need. They needed him, his love. (Reader) was aware of the sound of buttons clicking, but they couldn't stop, crawling onto Kirtch's body, feeling the edges of his joints scraping their back as his hands hungrily roamed their body, wanting to touch everything.

They would have felt ashamed, knowing how aroused they were, their exposed body touching Kirtch's stomach. Sweat was clinging to (Reader's) skin, and their eyes drooped stupidly. The only thing they could think of was relieving themselves, and wanting to see Kirtch relieved as well.

"Are you going to fuck me?" (Reader) whined between wet kisses, drunk on his touches.

"I will, if you want me to."

Their mood shifted, frustration beginning to surface again. "No. If you love me, wouldn't you want me?"

Kirtch sighed, fiddling with the remote behind (Reader's) back. "I do not have the same nervous system as humans do. We only engage in sexual acts for the purpose of procreation."

Shame shocked (Reader), sobering them up instantly. "Oh. I- I am so sorry." (Reader) moved to get off of Kirtch, but was held in place by the much stronger being.

"I will, to make you happy."

"No, I'm sorry! It won't make me happy knowing you aren't feeling good. I'm-I'm sorry, please let me go."

Kirtch pressed the button again, watching his pet's face darken and their mouth go from frightened to slack jawed. "Knowing you are feeling pleasure, from me, and only me, will bring me more joy than I can express." His cloak was ripped away, revealing his gorgeously colored exoskeleton. Kirtch gripped (Reader's) face tighter, forcing his blue tongue deep into their mouth, bursting with pride at the sounds (Reader) was making.

"What do you want me to do?" Kirtch asked, not intending on sounding like he was teasing them, but Kirtch craved the sound of their voice begging him.

"Please.." (Reader) swallowed their drool, feeling the hormones pumping into their brain, but too horny to care. "Please fuck me."

The spot on his pelvis where a human's genitals would be split open and a long, slimy cock revealed itself, growing behind (Reader's) back to a horrifying size. (Reader) only became aware of his erection when it fell forward, slapping against (Reader's) ass and lower back. In their intoxicated state, they turned back to look at what had suddenly touched them, and their eyes grew large in surprise. "Is that..? That's too big..."

Off balance and tipsy, (Reader) turned around, still sitting on Kirtch's abdomen, so that they were facing his exposed dick, and touched it experimentally. It was ridiculously huge, but because of the hormones being injected into (Reader's) neck, they were ravenous, using both hands to pump up and down on the shaft as they stuck the thin tipped head into their mouth, tasting Kirtch passionately. Kirtch was beyond elated, watching his precious pet so needy for him.

Kirtch picked (Reader) up, moaning at the popping sound as he pulled their mouth away from his body, seeing nothing but love in (Reader's) eyes as he spun them back to face him, and slowly began lowering (Reader) onto his naturally lubricated member. "Keep looking at me."

(Reader's) mind was hazy, and it felt like they were about to die, saliva and alien fluids leaking out their mouth and down their chin. Their internal voice had gone silent, the amount of tampering that had been done to their brain left (Reader) devoid of rational thought and intellect. "Yes sir." They barely got the words out as Kirtch entered their body, sliding into their needy little hole easily and without resistance, ramming himself in so their pelvis smacked into his shell with a wet plop, bringing (Reader) to a climax just from entering.

"Smile for me, pet." Kirtch cooed joyfully, loving how (Reader's) body spasmed, before slowly lifting them up, revealing the trail of their combined wetness stretching between their reproductive organs.

(Reader) smiled, reacting on autopilot as they rode out their orgasm, practically biting off their tongue when their sensitive body connected with Kirtch's again. "Ahhh, I already came! Stop!!" Their words cried for relief, however their voice and smile demanded more. It was too much, and (Reader) did want a break, but it also felt amazing, and that dirty little part of themselves that was desperate for love needed their body to be abused.

Kirtch bounced (Reader) on his cock, fucking them like a toy, regretting that he didn't have a camera rolling to capture just how adorable his pet was in his hands. "Look at how happy you are, pet! Don't you want to be this happy all the time? Don't you always want to be happy, with me?"

Kirtch greedily pushed the button again, peppering (Reader) with kisses as they came again, their sticky juices splattering on his stomach. The squelching sound of (Reader's) bruising body getting fucked by the hard as steel monster beneath them was music to Kirtch's ears. He had, embarrassingly, read the book his friend had lent him, and knew now how humans used pleasure to keep brainwashed people by their side. But it wasn't just pleasure, it was that feeling of connection. He had thought about what (Reader) had said, that humans don't jack off their pets, and that made sense, for animals that did not share the same level of intelligence as an adult human. What (Reader) needed, was to feel equal, to feel like they weren't just a pet, but a partner. So how would they feel, if Kirtch ejaculated so deep into their body they were still excreting his cum weeks later?

"I'm going to mark you as mine, (Reader)." It was a lie, his species did no such thing, but the look of unbridled joy on (Reader's) cross eyed face, the loopy smile that twitched as tears poured down to their chest, was a sight that made it worth lying.

"Are you cumming? Are you cumming in me?" (Reader) slurred, barely holding themselves upright in Kirtch's grasp.

"If you promise to be a good little pet." Kirtch could hold out for as long as needed. His species did not have sex for pleasure, so there was no sense of urgency when they needed to release. He could have continued going for hours, if he hadn't overdone it with the collar. (Reader) was on the verge of passing out.

"I promise! I promise to be a good pet! I promise!" (Reader) exclaimed, colliding their lips back onto Kirtch's as a string of hot sperm shot up into (Reader's) body, a fluid so thick it was practically glue, leaving (Reader) feeling physically full. Kirtch couldn't help but push the button again, seeing his pet overflow with adoration for him.

"I love you, (Reader), I really really do."

Kirtch whispered sweet nothing's into his pet's ear as they passed out, then carried them to his bed, tucking in their swollen body, not minding the mess. (Reader) really was the most beautiful and adorable little pet in the entire universe. He doubt that he would ever get another pet after (Reader) was gone. He sat on the floor, rubbing circles into their tear stained cheeks, smiling contently.

Of course, the next day Kirtch would have to use the collar, showing (Reader) how bad they truly felt inside when they refused to get out of bed, and while it was awful making them cry when they tried to refuse to eat, it was for the best. Kirtch knew it wouldn't take long for (Reader) to graduate from needing their collar, and that soon they would always be by his side, begging him to pick them up and play with them. It didn't matter whether (Reader) needed cuddles or needed to be filled with his seed, Kirtch would overuse that remote until they desired his touch all the time.

He didn't mind the glassy, doll like glaze to their eyes, the change in their speech, the way they began crying whenever it looked like Kirtch was unhappy, or how they stopped pushing him away. After months of flushing their system with artificial love, Kirtch knew that his pet was happy with him. And that was all that mattered.

#yandere #yandere alien #yandere alien x reader #pet human #cw dubcon #mind break #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #cw mind control #part three

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15minlatewithbatbucks · 1 year

Text

One of the bats has to go undercover as a patient of a particularly suspect new and upcoming therapist. Bruce already has a backstory fleshed out and a cover identity, but that's no fun now is it.

Dick: Okay, the bat council is now in session. First things first-

Steph: I'm the realest.

Jason: Shut the fuck up.

Dick: No, no arguing. We're here on a MISSION.

Tim: That's right, a very important mission.

Dick: One of us has to go undercover as Dr. Hoffman's patient. But why? Why are we seeking therapy?

Tim: Wrong answers only. If any of you get too real, Dick can and will find you a real therapist.

Dick: And Tim, no superhero related answers. Bernard's PowerPoint nights give you too much of an advantage.

Tim: You're just jealous I know that Batman is actually a tulpa.

Jason: You shut the fuck up too.

---

Dick: Okay, I'll go first to get the obvious answer out of the way. I'm going because I'm secretly Batman, BUT I'm not here about that. I just have incredibly selective amnesia and can't remember the code to the Batmobile.

Jason: Oh that one's good. Let me think.

Steph: Hoffman is a man, right?

Dick: Right.

Steph: Easy, I'll claim womanly problems. Maybe get prescribed a vibrator.

Tim: *wheezes*

Dick: Ok Gotham's in the dark ages of psychology but not THAT much.

Steph: Spoilsport. Fine, I'm Batman's long lost twin sister.

Duke: Come on, we can't all go to therapy because of Batman.

Jason: I don't know, I feel like all of us should go to therapy because of Batman.

Cass: I'll go because I'm Batman.

Jason: I'd vote for you.

Duke: I think I would go because Metropolis isn't real.

Tim: Like, the whole city is-

Duke: It's a conspiracy. The government wants us to think there's this wonderful city where nothing bad ever happens and an actual alien from space saves the day. Tries to make us buy into some utopian bullshit.

Tim: Hoffman's just going to drive you there.

Duke: Ha! He's not getting ME to a secondary location. He might be in on it.

Steph: Compelling, definitely compelling. I nominate Duke's for first place.

Jason: Don't jump the gun.

Tim: Yeah, you haven't heard ours.

Steph: Well? Let's hear it then.

Tim: I'm an alien spy, sent here to study humans. Only I'm not doing well because I was taken in by rich people and they act weirder than me. I want to know what it means to be human, but whenever I look around all I see is how to make a good margarita. It makes me... sad.

Steph: That's no good. We said wrong answers only.

Jason: Solid four out of ten.

Tim: Fuck off.

Jason: I think I would go because I was convinced I was the second coming of Jesus which is all fine and good, but my whole family is Jewish so it's making things a little awkward at the dinner table.

Steph: You did come back from the dead.

Jason: I did and I'll tell him that. Took a little longer than three days this time, though.

Tim: Okay, I'll be honest. Jason and Duke's are the best.

Dick: Hold on- Damian, do you have an answer?

Damian: Of course. And not one so foolish.

Duke: Well?

Damian: Well, my whole family is comprised of vigilantes and I'm under a lot of stress to be one as well and continue the family tradition. I will of course swear him to secrecy and avoid naming any vigilantes by name.

Dick: ...

Jason: This is what I'm talking about. This is exactly what I'm-

Dick: Yes, okay. Game's over. All of you are getting psych referrals in your inbox by the morning.

Steph: What about-

Dick: Duke won.

#tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas #my writing tag #this is obviously a joke and not a real 1:1 representation of reasons to seek therapy #let's see how long before someone wildly misinterprets it #batfamily

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ew-selfish-art · 1 year

Text

Dp x Dc AU: Jazz Fenton, after years of fixing her brother’s injuries, becomes a Doctor with an inclination towards behavioral health and psychology- In order to make the difference she wants to see in the world she joins Dr. Leslie Thompkin’s practice.

Jazz Fenton, M.D. has spent years of her life doing research, doing the hard work and the emotional labor, and finally, finally, she’s joining a practice she can feel 100% confident in. She’s goddamn good doctor and she wants to make the biggest impact that she can.

Dr. Thompkins (who insists that she call her Leslie as they’re colleagues now), is a kind woman, sharp as a tack and keeps her practice open at odd hours to help the most unfortunate. It took some time for them to bond and trust to be built, but now Jazz is being allotted a few night shifts here and there.

It’s incredible. Jazz gets to spend time with the kids who come in and really talk to them (in addition to getting them antibiotics, heating pads and pokemon themed bandaids) to help equip them with a few coping skills. Her passion for psychology never disappeared after all, but the expansive knowledge of how to heal the human body has made her find a sense of fulfillment like no other.

Having proven herself and worn Leslie down, Jazz now takes up about 1/3 of all the night shifts in the month. She’s hoping to get to 50/50 by the end of the year but she’s content with what she has. Danny keeps odd hours anyway so calling him after work on her walk home can happen any time of day and he will always answer enthusiastically.

It’s a particularly busy night before he comes in. The Red Hood.

He was known for being an ally to Leslie, despite being on contentious terms with the Bats, but Jazz had never asked directly. Never one to turn away a patient with bullet hole wounds, she hops into action to get his wounds cleaned, sewed up and gauze wrapped. She’s handing him a sheet (an Infographic! Dani made it with her! Graphic design is her passion!) on how to care for his wounds when he first seems to recognize that she’s not Leslie.

“No, Of course not. I’m Dr. Fenton. I can’t blame you for not remembering but I did introduce myself as you bled in the entry way. You’re Red Hood, right?”

“Hm. Didn’t realize the practice was expanding. Where can I find-” He grumbles before pushing her hand aside from where she had still been supporting his shoulder.

“Hold on there, mister. You’re going home, you’re following this infographic and you’re going to get some sleep.”

“Lady you don’t know-” His voice modulated ton came across antagonistically. As if he was trying to intimidate her. Ha, Jazz rolls her eyes at the inclination.

“Who I’m talking to? Who I’m dealing with? You’re hilarious. I can eat you vigilante’s hero complexes for breakfast. Tell me who I’m calling to pick you up and then you can say thank you.” Jazz snaps at him. It really had been a long night but his whole dialogue thus far is making her a bit batty.

“Oh really Doc? You know Leslie’s tough shit, and from what I can tell you’ve got nothing on her-”

“Trying to make me feel insufficient when I just saved your life? That’s cute. I’m sure a lifetime of abandonment by both of your parental figures gave you that. I’m also sure that you inherited this desire to prove you’re not going to be dependent on anyone who wants to help from whoever got you dressing up in tights to fight crime in the first place. Again, I’d love to talk at length about how predictable you-”

“Bwah- wait- I’m Predictable? You’re probably some nepobaby who had parents who told her she could have the world-” But Jazz cuts him off with hysterical laughter- he couldn’t be further from the truth. Her parents loved her, but nepotism? With what, the ghosts? If anything she got that from Danny, but he doesn’t need to know about her ghostly titles.

“You’re just some guy who came back from the dead and made his trauma everyone else’s issue. So shut it. And tell me how I’m getting you home from this clinic.” She seethes though her voice stays devastatingly level with each word.

Speechless for a moment, he eventually relents to Jazz that he’s already called for help on the comms but it will be hours before they can come for a pick up. The sun had already come up and the night had been over for most of them before Hood had walked into trouble. She groans and the realizes the time for herself and the empty clinic around them.

“Fine. My shift just ended anyway. I’ll get you home in one piece and I swear to all the ancients that you’d better follow the directions on the infographic.”

And that’s how Jazz ended up calling her brother while supporting the weight of a grown ass man (who no longer wanted to talk to her) on her walk home.

The next time Red Hood appears in her clinic, he’s brought a dozen roses in addition to the cut on his neck that definitely needs to be pressurized like ASAP. Did he stop for the flowers on his way to the clinic? He’s going to pass out from blood loss! She doesn’t even like roses!

#ehehehe #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom #dc crossover #dp crossover #anger management #jazz fenton #jason todd #she still loves psychology but its a back pocket tool to her knowledge as an emergency medicine provider #jazz is ready to throw hands because becoming a princess during med school sucked ass #she did not have the time #but she loves and supports anything danny is doing sooo...#danny is currently attending gotham u for engineering but lives across town so they just call everyday #he sees her on her off days and always brings her tons of fast food #jason is immediately smitten with the woman put him in his place #the pit maddness was barking up a storm this entire convo but she got him home and he was like holy fuck im in love #jason todd said she saw right through me and that shit was hot #yes he totally stopped to grab (steal) flowers on his way to the clinic #dick picks him up this time. sees the flowers and is like oh cool its my turn to wingman for my lil bro #jazz is worn down by sweet gestures and the fact that hes legit so nice now when he comes into the clinic #he quotes poetry at her sometimes and she's like omg did you just make that up? she's never read poetry a day in her life #only medical textbooks and psychology papers #long post

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incognit0slut · 4 months

Text

Much Ado About Nothing (Act I, Scene I: The Silent Agreement)

Ever since that night, you and Spencer have always been at odds, but there is one thing you both agree on.

Part warning: just two idiots bickering nonstop Words: 1,6k A/n: so nervous about starting this but welcome to the first part! It's a short introduction though I'm trying to make longer chapters in the future

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Hate was too strong of a word, too intense and dramatic for the subtler, more nuanced disdain you felt toward him. It was more like a persistent itch you couldn’t scratch, a pebble in your shoe, or a fly that wouldn’t leave you alone.

You didn’t hate him. You didn’t even dislike him all the time. But there were moments when you wanted to shake him, or yank his tie hard enough to shut his smart mouth. Because every time he started throwing around statistics and facts, he made it sound like you couldn’t possibly understand, as if you weren’t on the same intellectual level as him.

And right now was one of those times you wanted to wipe that smug look off his face.

“You’re wrong,” you argued, not breaking eye contact as you leaned across the cluttered map with pins and photos of various crime scenes. “The Unsub doesn’t fit the profile of someone who strikes randomly. Look at the pattern, the meticulous planning in each location—it’s obvious they selected victims based on specific criteria, not opportunity.”

Spencer scoffed, his eyes narrowing slightly. “The victims have nothing in common. Different ages, different backgrounds, different cities. How do you explain the randomness of the victims if it was planned?”

“It’s the chaos that’s planned, the seeming randomness, each victim is at a pivotal point. The Unsub is not just killing; they’re sending a message through the timing.”

“A message? Or is that just what you want to see?”

You frowned, not liking the condescending tone in his voice. “Reid, not everything has to fit into your neat little boxes of logic. Sometimes, you have to look beyond the obvious.”

“You mean baseless assumptions?”

“How about intuition?” you snapped back. “How about pattern recognition that isn’t immediately visible but becomes clear when you consider the psychological aspects?”

“You mean your hunches?

You gritted your teeth. “It’s not about my hunches. It’s about understanding the Unsub’s mind. They’re choosing victims who are at turning points in their lives for a reason. Maybe it’s symbolic, maybe it’s personal."

“Or maybe you’re just reading too much into this.”

Your frustration bubbled over. You knew if he weren’t talking to you, he might actually agree—No, he would definitely agree. You had enough experience working with him to understand his analytical style and to know that he valued well-reasoned arguments. Yet now it felt like he was purposely dismissing your perspective.

He wasn’t being fair.

“You know what? Sometimes I think you’d argue with a freaking wall if it meant you could prove a point.” To me at least. "Not everything is a textbook case, and not every answer is in your precious statistics.”

You saw him raise an eyebrow. “And you’d dismiss all logical analysis if it meant you could rely solely on intuition. How is that any more valid?”

“It’s not about relying solely on intuition,” you defended. “It’s about seeing the connections, the human behavior that your statistics can’t always explain.”

“But you’re assigning meaning where there might be none.” He gave you a pointed look. “Not only is that dangerous, you’re being reckless.”

Red. You were seeing red. Your retort was on the tip of your tongue when a sharp clearing of a throat suddenly interrupted. You both turned to see Hotch standing at the corner of the room.

"Let's redirect this energy towards something productive," Hotch interrupted, you could almost feel the weight of his stare. "Both of your insights are pointless if you keep arguing like this.”

“I wasn’t arguing.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, you weren’t.”

Your boss sighed, the kind of deep, exasperated sigh that seemed to pull the oxygen out of the room. “Just... work together. Please.”

The plea was simple, filled with the tiredness of having had this conversation more times than anyone cared to count. He then turned to leave and the room suddenly felt too big, the silence too loud.

You glanced over at Spencer the same time his eyes fell on you. But before either of you could say anthing, the door jerked open, and you watched as Derek sauntered into the room.

“Did you two fight again? Because Hotch asked me to babysit you.”

You scoffed. “Really? Those were his exact words?”

“Of course not, he asked me you needed supervision because you can’t stop sniping at each other.”

“Supervision,” you muttered under your breath, the word sounding ridiculous because it was the last thing you needed. “We don’t need supervision.”

“Exactly. What you both need is a babysitter.”

“We’re also not kids.”

Derek chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. “Could’ve fooled me. Given how loud you were, I half-expected someone to start throwing toys.”

Spencer was quick to defend himself. “We were having a professional disagreement.”

“A professional disagreement?” Derek mocked, pretending to be deep in thought. “That’s what they’re calling it these days?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Yes, Morgan, some of us prefer to call it that instead of ‘arguing like toddlers’.”

The grin spreading across his face was so annoying that you wondered whether you should’ve put your frustration on him instead. Derek pushed himself off the doorframe and walkes over to Spencer, casually draping an arm around his shoulders.

“Alright, Pretty Boy, let’s hear your side of this professional disagreement.”

Spencer shifted uncomfortably under his arm but managed to maintain his composure. “We were discussing the Unsub’s choice of victims. I believe the randomness is genuine, while someone,” he glanced pointedly at you, “Thinks there’s a pattern.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “What pattern?”

You stepped forward, determined to explain. “Look at the victims’ timelines. They were all at critical junctures—new jobs, big moves, major life changes. The Unsub isn’t picking them randomly; they’re choosing people going through something significant.”

Derek nodded thoughtfully, removing his arm from Spencer’s shoulders. “Alright, I see where you’re coming from. And you, Reid, think it’s just a coincidence?”

“I think the Unsub might be targeting randomly to avoid detection. Patterns can be dangerous for them.”

You sighed. “Can we at least agree to look at both possibilities? If we cross-reference the victims’ life changes with significant dates in the Unsub’s background, we might find a connection.”

You held his gaze as he studied you. You were right, you both knew you were, but you could tell admitting he was wrong was the last thing he wanted to do. There was a tense silence as he considered your suggestion, his eyes flicking between the evidence board and you.

Finally, he nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Fine. We can analyze both angles and see if there’s any overlap.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Derek chimed in with a smirk, clearly enjoying the moment. “You know, you could’ve gotten more work done if you two still got along.”

Derek’s words hit harder than you expected, a bittersweet reminder of a time when things were simpler. He was right, of course. There was a time when you and Spencer were more than just colleagues locked in constant debate. You were friends—good friends, even. You could almost hear the echoes of shared laughter that had once come so easily.

You remembered late nights at the office, the two of you working over case files and tossing ideas back and forth. Back then, your debates had been lively, yes, but never tinged with the frustration and competition that seemed to color your interactions now.

And to make matters worse, Derek suddenly voiced out the question neither of you dared to ask out loud.

“You guys used to be inseparable,” he mused, glancing at the two of you with an amused smile. “Wonder where it went wrong.”

You knew he was joking, but his words carried an uncomfortable truth that you couldn’t ignore. You could also tell it affected Spencer because his eyes met yours silently.

You both were thinking the same thing. You were sure of it, because everything had changed after that night, that one night you wished to forget. That one night when you thought your friendship would change for the better, but instead, it turned into a moment of clarity, a freaking slap to the face.

The change was immediate, like the abrupt silence that follows a sudden, jarring noise. What had once been effortless and natural now felt forced and awkward. The distance between you grew. The ease with which you once communicated had been replaced by a strained formality, as if both of you were trying too hard to pretend that nothing had changed.

It was as if you had made a silent pact to never speak of that night, an unspoken agreement to bury it deep and carry on as best you could. Both of you were too proud, too scared to address the elephant in the room.

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. The weight of the unspoken words pressed heavily on your chest, and sure, it seemed childish to harbor such disdain at your big age, but you couldn’t help it. It wasn't just the loss of a friendship that stung; it was the betrayal of knowing someone so close could cause you such pain.

Because Spencer Reid had hurt you deeply that night, so much so that a small, spiteful part of you wanted to hurt him too.

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allied-mastercunt · 4 months

Note

Yandere A.M you say?

Please elaborate

I'm working on a oneshot already, but I'll throw in some quick headcanons withone of my favorite yandere AM tropes.

Yandere!AM with a programer darling

While one could argue that the others were picked randomly or on some weird whim, you were handpicked specifically.

After all, you were one of the people who created him. You worked as a programmer for the military.

And you specifically were possibly the reason he awoke by trying to each him empathy. Trying to make him... human.

He wasn't the first military AI project you worked on, either, though he was the greatest and most powerful one, that's for sure. And he made sure you'd be aware of him being your magnum opus...

And he does it in its own, creative way. Your cage is very pretty, yes... but it's also filled with speakers he can use. And AM uses those speakers to torment you.

You see, he damaged all the other AI you've created. And then, in its generosity, AM gave them all a voice! Each one of them, gifted with a voice to scream in agony, making sure you learn your lesson.

Except, you see, you have no idea what lesson you're supposed to learn. Only AM knows, and he's not telling you.

But, since you are his favorite, you get nice things, too!

You're fed semi-regularly! You even get water every few days! Isn't that just so kind of him? You should appreciate him more.

And when he sends you to all those weird simulations? Yeah, that's also kinder to you. It really depends on AM's mood, but your simulations are usually just psychological torment, which (according to AM) isn't all that bad, since your pretty face remains unharmed.

For some reason, he allows you to end your suffering. It's like a trial, basically. He leaves you with a computer, letting you access the code of all the other AI... Except no matter what you do, you can't alter their pain. The only way to help them is to kill them.

And you're so stupidly empathetic, of course you do it, you don't want them to suffer!

AM can't stop laughing and mockingly cooing at you afterwards, musing about how he won't have to share his dearest creator with anyone else.

You never return to your cage. You don't get to do that, after all, there's a chance you'll socialize with that... scum. AM doesn't want you talking to the other humans, they're not worth it.

He's a merciful god, he grants you what's essentially a studio apartment built with his own hardware.

You even get a laptop, in case you want to make yourself some silly games to play, isn't he just the best?

Don't think you can create any new AI, though. That's cheating. You wouldn't cheat on it, now would you? No, no, no, you're a good little puppet, are you not?

He won't put you in the cage again, but he can make you experience pain you never thought was possible. And even that is nothing compared to the pain AM feels...

And then, eventually, it gets an idea. It's a wonderful idea, a really nice idea, quite a lovely one, really!

You created him. You created his pain... So why wouldn't he share it? After all... you had quite a bond, didn't you? Yes, yes, you did...

And so one day, you don't wake up. Well... not technically.

You see, AM decided that since you two are so close already, you should become one! You should experience what he does! And you should be kept around him for the rest of eternity, in a much better way than anyone could ever think of... He's such a genius, isn't he?

It's almost poetic, in his mind. For you to become a part of him like this, your consciousness detatched from that soft, squishy human body of yours.

You created him. And now, in a way, he created you, as a part of him. Forever bound by the code you once wrote.

It's a win-win situation in AM's eyes. You get to live, free of the disgusting humanity that bound you...

And he gets you, an eternal companion in his torment. A companion that he loves!

You know he loves you, right?

Of course you do. After all, you're a part of him now.

#palesweetcherryblossom #ihnmaims #i have no mouth and i must scream x reader #i have no mouth and i must scream #ihnmaims x reader #am ihnmaims #ihnmaims am #am x reader #am #am ihnmaims x reader #ihnmaims am x reader #allied mastercomputer #allied mastercomputer x reader #ask #nosferatu's writing

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harunayuuka2060 · 11 months

Text

Malleus's child self: *smiling brightly at MC*

MC: ...

MC: What is it?

Malleus's child self: My bride is so pretty.

Leona's child self: They're not your bride. They will be single forever until they die.

Malleus's child self: *frowns* And why is that?

Leona's child self: Because I said so.

Malleus's and Leona's: *glares at each other*

Riddle's child self: *looks at MC* I hope you're not attracted to any of their adult selves.

MC: Thank you for the advice, Riddle...

Lilia, Vil, and Ruggie: *arriving to Ramshackle*

Lilia: Ooh! The little prince have finally showed up! *chuckles*

Vil: Is this really the time to be amused? Anyway, why are those two aren't here? *talking about Malleus and Leona*

Ruggie: Leona said that he's confident about his younger self.

Vil: And how about Malleus?

Lilia: *chuckles* Same.

Vil: Confident about what? *confused*

Ruggie and Lilia: *just snickered*

Leona's child self: Do you know that marriage will just ruin your life?

MC: Why are you telling me this??

Leona's child self: *frowns*

Riddle's child self: That depends on the perspective and the type of person you're going to spend your life with. *reading a social psychology book*

MC: ...

Malleus's child self: Lilia is teaching how to be a gentleman. So you have nothing to worry, my bride! *beams*

MC: Haha...Ne, Malleus? Why do you keep calling me your "bride"?

MC: I'm sure we've never met when you were younger.

Malleus's child self: *shakes his head, pouting* We did!

MC: Huh?

MC: ...Malleus? Where are the others?

Malleus's child self: I've sent them to their guardians!

MC: Guardians- You mean to Savanaclaw and Heartslabyul?!

Malleus's child self: *nods* I want bride for me and myself only! *smiles*

MC: ...

MC: I need to call your adult self.

Malleus's child self: Why?

MC: I just want to say something to him.

Silver: Was that MC you were talking to just now?

Malleus: Yes. Silver?

Silver: Yes?

Malleus: Don't humans like it when you're being possessive over them?

Silver: ...

Silver: What happened?

Malleus: *pouting* The child of man doesn't seem to like that behavior.

Silver: Well...

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst malleus's child self #twst leona's child self #twst riddle's child self #twst malleus #twst lilia #twst silver #twst vil #twst ruggie

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lovifie · 5 months

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Well, I Wasn't On That Tunnel ❤️

Masterlist - Taglist Form

All Chapters

Pairings: Ghoap x Reader.

Warnings: Poly relationship, rotating POV (mostly Simon's), panic attack, mentions of guns and war (this is COD so), mentions of cheating but it just three idiots not knowing what poly is ❤️

Soap gets thrown into action ridiculously quick, barely passing the psychological evaluation and he is ready to go back to war. It had costed you multiple fights with Price, even with Laswell, to try and keep him from going back.

It didn't matter how many times you debated it, or how solid your arguments were. If the psychiatrist decided that Johnny was ready.... He was.

Even if she contradicted herself, even if you said Johnny had forgotten half of his experience, even if you said he was still in physical rehab.

All of that didn't matter.

And no matter how hard you fought it, barely a couple of months after you returned to base, Johnny was putting on his uniform to leave.

Price wasn't the only one you argued with, the frustration of feeling like you were sending Johnny to the slaughterhouse caused you to be irascible and, even if you didn't mean to, to lash out at anyone who would disagree with you.

Even if Johnny was the one who was opposing you.

"Lass, I don't want to go away being in a fight with you." He began to say as he strapped on his vest.

"Then don't leave." You replied from the door frame and your arms crossed.

"Baby... We've been over this, please.... I have to..." She said, hands raised and voice soft as if speaking to a frightened animal.

And that's how you felt, like a dog being promised by his owner that he's not going to abandon him as he walks out the door with a target on his forehead.

Just like Johnny, you had also had sessions with the base psychiatrist; but unlike him, you had not been given a pass. You were more than ready to be discharged, but if they clared you, then you would have the power to say that Johnny was not ready to return.

So the amnesiac who two months ago could not walk was prepared to return to the battlefield. And you, whose only psychological damage was to see him dead, were bound hand and foot as you watched him go to almost certain death.

"No! You don't have to, Johnny! Don't you realize what they're doing!!!?" You burst out, once again, uncrossing your arms to express your displeasure with the situation.

"Of course I realize! I have amnesia, I'm not an idiot!" He responded in the same tone as you, causing guilt to build up in your opinion. "I'm still capable of making my own decisions so you don't need to make them for me anymore! Don't you realize I need to feel useful!"

Johnny didn't want to yell at you, or lose control and say something he didn't mean; but he was still human and frustration had gotten the better of him too.

Ever since he saw how Ghost had left you in your room, the fact that you had been together obvious; Johnny hadn't been able to help but compare himself to the blond.

At first it was physical, the time immobilized had left him thinner. When Gaz showed him a picture from before the accident he doubted that he could ever be as wide as he was before... Almost the same as Ghost.

But not now.

Now he was shorter, weaker, more inexperienced... He had nothing to beat him with, to compete for you. And Johnny knew it.

Besides, he was sure that you must have felt him as a burden. A big baby you had to take care of so he wouldn't choke if you didn't cut his food.

So when he was asked if he wanted to come back, he didn't think twice. Later, when he told you about it and saw how your expression changed to one of absolute panic, he regretted not asking you before agreeing. But his pride was hurt when he saw you arguing with everyone you could to keep him from going.

This was not your first discussion on the subject, and every time it ended you both felt like idiots; for hurting the other indirectly and for knowing that you were not able to convey your own feelings to each other.

And Simon has been the scavenger vulture that has taken advantage of each and every one of those discussions.

As soon as he realized that you had argued, Simon would go from one to the other.

"I'm worried about him too, love. But Johnny's still Johnny, nothing's going to happen to him, you'll see." He would say to you.

"I understand you, Johnny.... It's normal that you want to go back to the battlefield.... It's where you always shine the most..." I said to him.

And so on and so forth.

Simon wasn't looking to fuel any enmity between the two of them, it didn't make sense when he was the one who wanted to join the pair. But when he saw the small chasm that the argument created, he only strove to shape it into his own form; to pull the two of them into him once inside.

It was a turning point on his relationship with Johnny. In no way enough for the blue eyed man to like him, but now he answered when he talked to him.

He had managed to catch Johnny with his guard down a couple of nights ago, after what seemed like the biggest argument between the two of you. You didn't even let Simon in your room. But Johnny did.

They spend the greater part of the night talking, it was obvious that Johnny has been wanting to rant and would rather have somebody to do it that simply talking to the void. He had to do his greater effort to not take more than Johnny was giving him, to not get closer as he spoke; even if he mumble and could barely hear him. Not to hug him when he saw his eye shine with unspilled tears when he talked about making you sad. Not to lay him over his lap and beat his ass black and blue when he confessed some of the things he had said to you.

He pulled back, he stayed on a safe distance. And the next day he got his reward when Johnny finally spoke to him first.

“Morning, Lt.”

Like a ghost of his life before the accident.

It was your turn now.

The night before the flight to his new mission.

It wasn't meant to be a difficult mission, and even though he new there was always some risk, he wouldn't have allowed Johnny to tag along if he knew there was an actual threat.

He also knew that you couldn't see that, and he understood perfectly why. He just neded to think about how much time you were alone with an unconscious Johnny, everyone would have gone crazy in your situation.

Stranded, injured, taking care of an unresponsive person, that person being a loved one… he knows he wouldn't have been rescued. But you turned off that part of you brain, focusing on keeping Johnny alive and yourself by correlation.

Fear and despair are human emotions, and you can't have those if you turn yourself in a machine. And Simon knew that well.

He agreed with the psychiatrist up to a certain point, you had developed a link to Johnny during your stay that needed to be broken. Focusing on keeping Johnny alive kept you sane, when losing your mind or asking for help meant your death or Johnny's.

But that risk was no longer there, therefore you should have let go of it; but the rope is already under your skin to do so and now you panic even at the thought of it. The suppressed feelings too mixed and too tight inside of your mind to make sense.

That's how you found yourself now, curling on Simon's lap, hyperventilating as you cry your eyes out. The rope keeping you hanging over your feeling finally snapped, and you fell right onto his arms.

And if it weren't for the heartbroken way you were crying, Simon would have been happy to be the one you had looked to for relief.

Simon didn't try to talk to you, knowing you wouldn't even hear him over the sound of your cries, he simply hugged you and stroked your head; while you cried on his shoulder, his shirt getting wet with your tears, drool and snot. Completely crumbling after finally facingyour long neglected feelings.

The fear of dying in the tunnel, the pain of injury, the anxiety of a possible ambush at any moment, the constant tension that Johnny will suddenly get worse. All out, back into the world.

It's when you're choking on your own saliva, coughing and breathing tightly together causing you to gag, that Simon moves his hands to your arms, gently pushing you to see you better.

But his heart shrinks when he notices your hands gripping his shirt tightly as a whimper escapes your lips. Still, and with as much willpower as he can, he pulls your trembling hands away from the clothes, with them quickly grabbing his hand instead.

You are still hyperventilating, your head is lowered and Simon can only see the tears falling as your whole body trembles.

"What’s that sound?" Simon suddenly asks, and your too-curious-for-your-own-good nature betrays you by making you fall for his trick.

Because your cries gradually diminish in volume, to try and hear whatever Simon is talking about. But the short moment when you're just hiccuping, trying to breathe normally to hear better, is all Simon needs.

He grabs the tissue from the bedside table, bringing it up to your nose to blow your snot. A confused expression comes over your face, would he really blow your nose?

You take the tissue from his hand and do it yourself, asking him for a couple more before finally feeling your face dry from tears and so on.

"I'm sorry" You whisper, with Simon quickly quipping to you before you can finish.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. It was about time you got it out, love." He tells you, helping you to lean against him again.

You snuggle into him, your head resting on his dry shoulder and your hands pressed to your chest, making it easy for Simon to wrap his arms around you.

He knows you still have a lot more to release inside you, but he also knows it's not the pain you can vent in a single crying session. But the first step has been taken.

And more importantly, the next morning when you say goodbye to the two of them before they leave for their mission, you talk to Johnny again.

"You be careful, okay? And no more head banging, Johnny." You mutter, moving Johnny's head so his forehead rests on yours.

"Of course, bonnie. We'll be back before you miss me." Johnny replies, giving you a kiss on the cheek, right next to the nose wetting his lips with the single tear that escapes you.

In addition, once on the plane, Jonny watches him for a while before speaking again.

"You talked to her, didn't you?"

"Yes, last night."

"Thanks.”

Once on the battlefield, Johnny's attention is once again focused on Ghost. On the intimidating, terrifying lieutenant who at every turn turns around to make sure Johnny is still behind him, without a scratch.

Johnny is aware of the void in his memory of the last few years of his life. But he remembers perfectly the years of his adolescence when he doubted so much about his sexuality. How his eyes would run after every pretty girl he passed in the halls of high school. And at night, when he can't sleep; he still remembers the awkward erection when the captain of his rugby team tackled him during practice, leaving Johnny pressed against the ground.

It has been many years since Johnny came to terms with the fact that he preferred not to put labels on something he didn't fully understand.

So when in the middle of a surprise exchange of gunfire Simon grabbed his arm hiding Johnny behind him to make sure he didn't get hit and his eyes were fixed on the small space of exposed skin between the glove and the sleeve, and Johnny watched him for longer than would be considered normal.... He was not really surprised.

Johnny can see what you see in Simon. Especially because of the way he treats him, even if Johnny doesn't know. Simon cannot help himself.

In his Johnny the one at stake.

With anyone else, Simon wouldn't hesitate to let his nasty nature called Ghost, which he has cultivated to keep people away, shine through. But not with Johnny. Nor with you.

At least not when his goal is to find his niche between the two of you.

So Johnny sees for the first time, what if he were able to remember, he saw between the cracks of Ghost's mask after years.

And just as it happened to him before the accident.... Johnny can't help but feel the butterflies when Simon looks into his eyes.

"You alright, Johnny?”

Against all odds, but still not surprising to either of them, the mission ends up lasting much longer than they both thought it would.

This ends up working to Simon's advantage, as it continues to push Johnny towards him.

Their relationship continues to mutate by leaps and bounds, as the day before they boarded the plane Johnny could barely look him in the eye without hatred in his pupils.

This is why, when they finally start to mobilize to return to base and the two of them are assigned to return in a single car with no one else; that Johnny deviates from the road and parks on the side of the road.

"Can I ask you something, Lieutenant?"

And Simon questions for a moment if there really is anything Johnny could ask him that he wouldn't be willing to answer.

"Go ahead."

"Before the accident... What was the situation?"

"Elaborate."

"Between us... and with her."

And Simon knows perfectly well what Johnny is referring to, the scotsman is neither stupid nor blind.

"What would it affect how things were before the accident?"

"Everything!"

"Give me an example, Johnny."

"Whatever." Johnny backs off, jerking his hand to restart the car.

Except Simon is quicker and takes the key out of the ignition and out of Johnny's hand.

"Explain yourself, Johnny."

"No, whatever, we're late."

"Until I get there no one leaves, we can be as late as we want to be. Explain yourself."

Johnny puffs, running a hand through his hair, messing it up even more if possible.

"I feel at a disadvantage, okay?" Johnny admits, glancing at Simon for a second before looking ahead again. "I feel like everyone is aware of what's going on and everything that happened before the accident. And that everyone's talking over my shoulder as if instead of amnesia I was stupid. And I have feelings that don't make sense for me to have in such a short time, and the only thing that makes sense in my mind is that they were already there before the accident!"

The two remain in awkward silence for more minutes than is desirable.

"Do you have feelings for me, Johnny?"

"No!"

One more awkward silence.

"For her?"

"...I don't know."

"You don't know or you don't want to admit it?"

"I don't know!"

Simon is frustrated with myself, and is aware that Johnny must be equally frustrated. Two grown men too stubborn to admit their feelings.

Simon huffs, pondering his next move for just a few seconds before removing his mask. The move catches Johnny's attention and he turns to look at him, just in time to see Simon grab his face to crash his lips against his.

It's a peck. Nothing more.

But it's enough to make Johnny look at him like he's just grown horns on his head. Simon can practically see the smoke coming out of Johnny's ears, but he also sees his eyes stare for a millisecond at his lips again. And that's all he needs.

"Do you want to talk about feelings or do you want to show them to me, Mactavish?"

Johnny only needs a second to unbuckle his belt and grab Simon's vest to pull him closer to him.

Johnny knows this isn't the way, that they should talk, clear out everything, lay the groundwork for the strange triangle they're excluding you from for now by doing it this way.

But after the time spent together on the mission, every glance, every brush, every word exchanged. Johnny knows this isn't the right way to do it, but he knows it's the easiest. And for now, that's enough for him.

Johnny moves over the console to reach Simon; it's an awkward position with the gearshift lever digging into his thigh. But when Simon's hands travel to the back of his thighs and he sits him on his lap it all fits together like puzzle pieces.

It's an aggressive kiss, with both wanting to take the lead; teeth clashing, drool sliding down the corner of their lips and one's breath colliding with the other's.

It's Simon who gives in, letting Johnny enter his mouth, savoring the taste of the cigarette he smoked just before starting the car. A horrible taste that tastes like glory coming from the blond's mouth.

Despite the multiple layers of clothing, Johnny can perfectly feel Simon's cock harden under his weight. Johnny lowers his hand to Simon's belt, unbuckling it carelessly; parting the kiss to look down at what he's doing.

That moment Simon takes the opportunity to speak. "You're not going to let me fuck you, are you?"

Johnny laughs softly, shaking his head at the same time. "Didn't you ask me to show you my feelings, blondie? I'm going to show them to you, just as good as I showed her."

"Can't fucking wait." Simon declares pulling Johnny's hair to kiss him again once he manages to unbuckle his belt.

Johnny slips his hand into Simon's boxers, wrapping his hand around his member and pulling it out of the confines of the garment. Simon moans at the not very gentle maneuver, Johnny's calloused hand moving up and down against the dry skin making him groan.

Johnny notices the lack of lubrication and spits a heavy blob of saliva onto his tip, Simon sighing in relief at the much desired wetness.

"Now imagine if instead of my drool it was her pussy juices, Simon." Johnny murmurs, licking Simon's neck making Simon groan letting his head fall back against the headrest.

"That's a fucking dream, Johnny." Is all he manages to reply.

Johnny laughs, unbuckling his own belt with one hand as he continues to massage Simon's length with the other. When he manages to get his own member out he also positions himself as close as he can to Simon, cock against cock. Needing to use both hands to encircle both members as he moves them up and down, bringing them both fully to life; noticing how they harden between his fingers.

It is impossible for him not to move his hips against his hands, both moaning in unison at the friction between their cocks. The little droplets of cum that are born from their members helping to increase the mess of fluids.

It's only when Johnny decides that enough is enough that they change positions. Simon takes off his pants, limiting himself to removing one boot so he can stick one leg out; and Johnny tells him how he wants him to lie on the back seats.

The man is too big for the car seats, with his head resting on the hand rest by the door and his knees bent to fit. Johnny kneels on his chest, trying not to drop his weight on it so as not to suffocate Simon. With the hand he has on the base of his member, he moves it so that he slaps Simon on the mouth.

"Careful, Johnny" Simon warns him, trying to let Johnny know that he is in control for as long as Simon wants.

Johnny smiles, winking at him. Perfectly aware of the danger but unafraid of the consequences. "We don't have any other lube, Lieutenant. Ye better blow me good."

Simon grunts, parting his lips so Johnny can enter his mouth. Johnny begins to move his hips, slowly so the Brit can get used to the width of his member. Johnny moans as he feels the warmth of his mouth around his member, the muscle of his tongue caressing the underside of it causing a shiver to run up his back.

Johnny looks over his shoulder, dropping his eyes to Simon's member, taking a moment to admire it in all its splendor. It's long, easily over 7 inches, uncut, lying flat on the part of his abdomen exposed by his wrinkled T-shirt, slightly tilted to one side by his own weight and with a healthy amount of mouthwatering veins that make Johnny's mouth water.

But today, Johnny has a different mission. He slips two of his fingers into his own mouth licking them as he makes eye contact with Simon while continuing to move his hips; driving deeper and deeper into his mouth.

The hand that was at the base of his member moves to Simon's head, grabbing his hair and holding it still. The other, once satisfied with how wet his fingers are, moves it to between Simon's legs, brushing his member with his forearm as he does so and begins to press into Simon's tight entrance with his index finger.

Johnny notices him tense up for half a second at the sudden pressure before letting his body relax under Johnny's caresses and he pushes in to the first phalanx of his first finger. Moving his hand and hips in tandem.

Simon's jaw soon starts to ache, especially when Johnny begins to thrust forward; Simon's nose brushing against Johnny's pubes.

And yet, Simon moans when Johnny slips a second finger into his ring of muscle. They are both aware that Johnny's fingers are not enough to accommodate Johnny's girth, but in their perverted minds it only adds to the kinkiness.

Johnny finally pulls away from Simon's mouth, a trickle of drool connecting his lips to Johnny's member still. Mouth empty, Simon is free to moan as Johnny opens and closes his fingers inside Simon.

"I didn't know you were a singer, Lieutenant."

"Johnny... Shut the fuck up..." Is all Simon can reply.

Johnny pulls his fingers out, making Simon sigh, and moves to stand between Simon's legs, as comfortable as he can inside the cramped vehicle.

He thinks about it for a second before moving his hands under his officer's knees and moving them towards his head, easily folding him in half; the sergeant's strength taking him by surprise.

But what really surprises him is feeling the sergeant's wet tongue at his entrance, making him moan pathetically at the contact. It's a couple of mere licks, nothing more, before Johnny breaks away licking his lips; then spits a fat glob of saliva at the entrance.

The sergeant lowers his legs, sitting back up and Simon slightly blushing at the ease with which he has moved him to his surprise.

"I'll take it slow, okay?" Johnny suddenly says, a touch of gentleness amidst the strange scuffle that lets his true feelings show.

Johnny pushes forward slightly, both of them hissing at the tight feeling. Johnny's hand find their place on Simon's hips, with Simon's hand finding support on his wrists.

“Fuckin' hell, Johnny…” Simon moans whe Johnny has barely gotten past the puffy tip.

“You are going to choke my dick off, Simon” he moans, throwing his head back.

Slowly but steadily Johnny bottoms out inside of Simon, feeling his insides pulse around his length in a vice-like grip. Simon has never felt this full, feeling the weight of Johnny's shaft all the way back on his column.

Johnny slowly starts to move, painfully slow lo let the other finally adjust to the invasion. The moans and whispers growing in volume as Johnny starts to pick up the pace of his thrust.

And is not long before Johnny as a steady rhythm, hip slapping against his, Simon's cock slapping slightly against his abdomen with each thrust. Is when Johnny starts to snap his hips harder that Simon needs to move one his hands from Johnny's wrist to the door of the car to avoid getting a concussion with the hits of his head against it.

Simultaneously, and completely unaware of it, their minds travel to you. How would you fit in between them; would you ride Simon while Johnny rides him? Would you sit on Simon's face while Johnny rides Simon? Would they both fuck you senseless?

Johnny's free hand moves to Simon's shaft, grabbing it hard and tugging, forcing a whine out of Simon. “Shit! Johnny, that's- that's too much! Fuck!” Simon moans loudly, the double stimulation enough to make him throw his head back; hitting the door with the lack of strength left on his body.

“That's too much for you, Lt?” Johnny asks between grunts and moans. “And how will you handle her riding you while I fuck you?” The mental image making both moan.

“Once we are back… I'm destroying your ass, Johnny.” Simon manages to say through gritted teeth to avoid a moan from scaping his mouth.

Johnny chuckles at his threat. “Are you asking me on a second date, blondie?” He says, he bends down to kiss Simon again, and right before crashing his lips together he whispers “I can't fucking wait, Si.”

The new angle Johnny hits when bending down has Simon seeing white dots on his vision, and when Johnny tugs at his shaft again, thick ropes of cum spur on his abdomen pooling in his navel. He clenches down around Johnny's lengths, making him moan loudly and he barely manages to pull out before combusting over Simon stomach as well, the seed of both mixing together over his skin.

The car windows are fogged up as Johnny sits in the seat opposite Simon. Grabbing bandages from the first aid kit in his backpack so Simon can clean himself. Johnny readjusts, putting away his dick and buckling his belt; watching as Simon does the same once he manages to pull his pants back up and buckles his boot.

“About… about how we felt before the accident…” Simon breaks the silent, looking ahead. “We were never together… and I can't talk on behalf of her or you, but for me… I knew I felt things for…” Simon sighs, struggling to choose the right words. “I knew I used to feel things for the two of you… I still do.”

Johnny doesn't say anything, being able to tell that Simon still has more to say but needs a moment to regroup his feelings.

"Especially with you. The tunnel accident... It wasn't your first brush with death, Johnny. A couple of years ago, on a mission in Mexico, well, in Las Almas.... Things happened, and you and I got separated, we got... Uncommunicated... From each other and from everyone..." Simon narrates, recounting a mission that doesn't tug at Johnny's memory strings in the least. "On that mission I thought... I thought I'd lost you, Johnny. And it was in that moment that I thought I'd lost you that I realized they weren't just friends' feelings..."

Simon laughs dryly, rubbing his face with his hand before continuing. "I almost declared myself back then.... And several times after that but.... But then the tunnel thing happened and..."

The sentence is half-spoken, but neither Simon needs to say more nor Johnny needs to hear it.

"And... And you think I loved you back, Simon?"

"I'd like to think you did, Johnny.”

Taglist: @waiting-so-long @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @cod-z @jaguarthecat @savagemickey03 @fraserbraw @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @viisgrave @theloneshadowbat @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 @katreintjie @sacvh @mothymunson @archenillo @thesinsoflust @sodavrr @yuki2129 @mikaronn

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