ramblingautisticman · 8 hours ago
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A thought I would like you to sit on and think about:
When they get old, Poolverine, I mean, and logans easily about 1206 while wades like 1047. Wade obviously doesn't need tonworry about grey hairs and adores logans white hairs, but how would Wade look? Would he get wrinkles? Would he look only 60ish, look much younger than logan since he's almost 50 and looks barely 26? Is he skinner? Just how badly has his body aged? Disregarding comic lore- I wanna know your opinion. Would Logan struggle to walk around? Will the tables turn and he is now part time in a wheel chair? Whats their day like? Cabin in the woods is nice but that requires hunting and long trips to the store. Is puppins old too? Since she's a deadpool shes technically "immortal" too dont you think? How many times a week do they just sit infront of the fire at night, talking about their youth and stories? ... how many funerals have they attended? Do they even bother making friends anymore? Do you think that theyve learned to isolate themsleves from the world and become so codependent that they do absolutely everything together? Do you think in this older state that it takes them longer to heal? Can logan even use his claws anymore or does he soley rely on guns now?
Okay....I have so many thoughts. So many.
So firstly, discussing the way they age. I assume that Wade, because of how his regeneration works, stays the same age. His body always regenerates to that same state- the same age and condition- his body was in when he mutated, which is partly why the cancer is still eating away at his body. I don't think he really will ever age. Maybe his scars change a little over the years, getting rougher and redder as he ages.
I think he does get skinnier- less muscley- purely from them eventually putting up their suits for good and settling in to a more domestic life. I don't think he can put on weight because of the cancer, and I think the chronic pain gets worse too. He has more bad days where he can't really do much but lay in a warm bathtub and wait for the heat to fix his aching muscles.
If he does age though? If his body finally gives in and let's him get older? He is probably a mess, both physically and mentally. Wade feels bittersweet about gaining wrinkles and his hearing worsening. On one hand, he's glad that the world has allowed him the luxury, on the other? He hates that he lookes even worse than he did before. The scars start to turn brighter shades of red, the skin wrinkling and sagging in places, and it makes him even more insecure of how he looks.
Either way, his healing gets a little slower and he can feel the cancer trying to fight it's way in.
Mary Puppins is much the same. She doesn't really get older, just gets tired a little easier, and shakes if it gets too cold.
Logan? Logan ages SLOWLY. Very slowly. Eventually, though, he's getting aches and pains like everyone else, accompanied by wrinkles and joint pain. The claws stop working at some point. They refuse to cooperate with him, and eventually, he gives up. The constant ache of them sat idle causes his hands to shake slightly, and it's something he doesn't really like talking about. The one thing he was good at, and now? Now they don't even work.
I think Logan would panic a little at the idea of ageing- used to practically being the same for so long- but he would accept it pretty quickly. He would be kinda glad at the idea of finally getting older, finally being able to do something 'normal', even if it means he isn't as fast or agile anymore. They aren't sure if it's the poison from the adamantium or not, but his breathing gets a little weaker too. His healing slows down too, and it takes alot longer to heal from the tiniest cut- which he assumes is because his healing factor is trying to deal with the whole aging thing.
Wade would be the one having a full on meltdown. After so long, he finally had someone who 'matched his freak'- someone who truly understood his pain and trauma, someone who wouldn't die on him- and now, here he was, staring at the first sign of a grey hair on Logan's head. It reminds him that one day, he really will be alone, no matter what. Logan isn't going to be around forever, but Wade will.
Once Wade isn't panicking about Logan getting old, and once they realise that Logan is going to continue to deteriorate, they move to a little one floor house just outside of the city. There are no stairs, which helps Logan's aching hips, and the walk in shower (you know what I mean) is ready for when neither of them can get in and out of the tub anymore. They make sure Mary has a nice comfortable bed next to the fireplace, and Logan gets a big enough couch that him and Wade can fall asleep comfortably if they need too.
They don't really talk to anyone after all these years. After watching everyone they love pass away, they don't feel the need to make friends anymore. Logan and Wade both can't deal with the idea of watching someone they love waste away again- not now that they are both ageing themselves.
All they care about now is eachother- and Mary Puppins- and they take care of eachother as best as they can. Logan makes Wade heat packs and helps him clean up whe he vomits, Wade helps Logan move about when he isn't in a wheelchair and massages the aching muscles in between his knuckles.
It's tough, but they manage. They survive by keeping the other alive, and even though they know it'll end badly- either Logan is going to die and leave Wade, or they are both going to die together- it never stops their need to keep eachother safe.
Logan has to watch Wade as the cancer slowly starts to fight back and win, while Wade has to watch Logan age and the possibility of the poison taking over.
(Not the most coherent post, but I had so many random thoughts about it that I wanted to put in here lol, so here it is. Also GREAT QUESTION??? LIKE YES?? GIMME OLD MAN LOGAN AND OLD WADE HAVING TO LOOK AFTER EACHOTHER??)
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zelda-posting · 7 months ago
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tears of the kingdom could have been so good if it were built around like, its story or its characters instead of being a clunky shell to show off the mechanic no one asked for that it forces you to use
#*#text#totk#mechanics#i had fun scuttling around in the depths for a while but that got old eventually. for obvious reasons#what i liked about zelda games was always the atmosphere and character interactions#like. one of my favorite games is twilight princess. which is. deeply unserious in many ways#bit it COMMITTED to its setting and what the writers went ham making sure#that it was still full of whimsy and affection.#totk doesn't have that. the characters are all 1) instruction manuals or 2) vehicles for what small and disparate semblances of plot#survived whatever disaster must have happened in development that made them cannibalize several different ideas#and stick them into the shell for the fucking. arm#totk plays like a gallery or again just an engine for the building thing.#it's pretty. the music is good. the building thing is well made. but as a zelda game totk Fucking Tanks#i HATE overinvolved mechanics. i HATE having to stop and rely on a Whole Process that i have to keep stocked#to get anything done. i've always liked loz again bc of characters and whimsy but also bc it's always been mechanically vert streamlined#and accessible to someone like me who is disabled and finds fiddling EXTREMELY tedious#you have one required tool per dungeon and they're QUICK they're SIMPLE they're A GOOD TIME#totk. to me. is just clunky and has no redeeming qualities outside of again being pretty and still sort of nominally letting you run around#collecting things. some of the side quests were cute. but even then the characters were very.#THE THING ABOUT ZELDA GAMES IS THAT IM used TO THEM BEING ABOUT. NOT JUST THE FUNCTION!!!!!!#there were things— many of them! sometimes most of them even!!!— there just for fun. again almost especially The Characters#totk is so goddamn UTILITARIAN on all levels ITS. CLUNKY and BORING i don't WANT to have to do 30 things just so i can do something else.#hey nintendo. if you have to force people to play your game. like if you specifically have an ''open'' game and then subsequently have to#manufacturer MANY blocks and caveats to the idea of ''do whatever have fun!!'' so that it's''but only how WE want you to''. maybe thats bad.#maybe you've done a bad job. if again. you have to FORCE players to go about things in the way and order that you want. it's no fun.#like even zelda games where you have less options and linear progression feel less restrictive bc like. they don't fucking punish you.#for. playing the game. you just can't do things. totk really punishes you for going off script. which like. why even do that.#anyway. this is all probably incoherent. i'm right tho.#wow there are so many typos. pretend there are not <3
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navree · 2 years ago
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Have you watched Rome (HBO)? If yes what's your opinion on it?
I've watched some of it, but to be honest I didn't really like it. They got things like how society operated in that time, and I think Ciaran Hinds is an incredible actor and did his best with the material he had, and if you just want a good drama and don't know anything about the period and the actual history that went on, you'll probably like it. Plus, James Purefoy was genuinely perfect casting. It's why I wish that the show was better than it was.
Problem is, I do know the history. I know the history quite well, because the general fall of the Republic and rise of the Empire is an incredibly interesting time and Augustus is one of my favorite people to read about, from a historical perspective he's fascinating. And the show bungles a lot in that regard. I've never been a particular fan of "we're going to invent these fictitious characters and make them important to the historical narrative" type things, and the combining of characters caused some major problems for me personally (combining Atia Balba with Fulvia to create the show's version of Atia was very annoying to me personally, considering how at odds it is to the historical Atia Balba), and just in general a lot of the characters felt very shallow and like they were crafted more out of a pop culture understanding of who these people were rather than actually examining them historically. Like, ooh Cleopatra is a sexually voracious and seductive minx and Octavian is a monstrous little viper, how incredibly novel, never been done before. Not like the reality of Cleopatra as someone who wasn't very attractive but was so intelligent and charismatic that she seemed leagues better than any other woman, but still prideful and stubborn enough to let it be her downfall is more interesting than cokewhore but make it Hellenistic. Not like Octavian as an incredibly smart person and brilliant politician whose complicated family life created a situation that had him latch onto Caesar as a father figure (and Caesar himself having lost a child shortly before they started getting close allowing that latching to be entirely mutual) and who started his journey to power as a personal revenge quest and whose litany of personal tragedies at a young age created the circumstances that allowed him to make colder and colder decisions for the betterment of himself and his family and his country is more interesting than wimpy deviant who can't fight. IDK, they made Livia marginally more two-dimensional than most other pop culture portrayals of her (I, Claudius your sins are numerous and shan't be forgiven), but that's about it. From someone who's read a lot about all of these people and has consistently found that who they actually were is leagues more interesting and creatively inspiring than anything anyone could actually make up, the show being composed entirely of preconceived notions with some sprinkling of "this is what I remember from Shakespeare's Roman plays" just did not do it for me at all.
Also, Agrippa/Octavia is a fucking cop out and anyone who writes it is a genuine coward. Like, you cannot tell me that out of the two siblings, the relationship you find the most interesting is the one he had with Octavia, when Agrippa and Octavian were friends since they were twelve and were completely and reciprocally so incredibly devoted to each other that it almost defies description and beggars belief. Agrippa never once tried to grab power even though he absolutely could have and was perfectly happy being nothing more than Octavian's right hand man until the day he died. Octavian's first ever political act, the thing that kickstarted his entire career, was asking Caesar of his own volition to not kill Agrippa's brother (it's complicated) and Caesar saying yes entirely because it was Octavian who asked, not only showing how loyal Octavian was to his friends but also essentially binding the two of them together for life. It was a forty year relationship of the most insanely codependent friendship of all time, either get with the program and make it homoerotic or just admit you have no talent and wanna hetify it.
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ghostsprincess · 7 days ago
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I can't stop thinking about Ghost being a better boyfriend than your ex, even without establishing that title....
This is a continuation of part one.
warning: mention domestic abuse
💀
Simon was there every night you worked. You never gave him your schedule, but he'd show up and settle onto one of the stools like clockwork. Soap often joined him, and while they carried on like always, you knew Simon's gaze lingered on your body. You could practically feel the weight as you took drink orders and pulled pints. It wasn't unwelcome. In fact, it made everything easier knowing you weren't alone if your ex dared show his face.
When your shifts ended, Simon would walk you back to your new place. The one time you insisted he didn't need to do that, he grunted and said, "What if I want to?"
You didn't mention it again. Instead you got into a routine of giving him a fifteen minute warning when your shift was going to end, and you'd head out into the cold night with him at your side. He was mostly quiet while you chatted about whatever was on your mind. When you'd ask him about himself, he'd reroute the conversation back to you. Then he would wait while you unlocked your door and stepped inside.
You always had the urge to invite him in, but you were taking up so much of his time already. And what would you do with him anyway? This hulking military man with kind eyes? 
You thanked him and gave him a little wave before ducking inside, and you knew he always waited until he heard the sound of your door locking before he left. 
"Y' alright, love?" he asked one night when you were starting to feel particularly good about yourself again. Your split lip had healed which required less makeup. You felt stronger for having left your ex in the dust. You were wearing a new top that made you feel sexy.
"Yeah. I'm alright, Simon. I feel really good, actually."
You served him a drink and refused to let him pay. You really ought to make him stop tipping you at this rate. He was doing so much for you and getting nothing in return. He was doing all of the boyfriend duties just as he had promised, but he never so much as touched you other than the occasional hand hold.
What if you wanted more?
He broke into your thoughts as he said, "I can tell. Ya' been smiling more. Almost ready to go?"
Tonight you felt like you were floating along the dirty sidewalk with your hand tucked in Simon's massive paw. He was keeping you warm without doing anything, and he listened to your nervous rambling as you tried your best to work up your courage. But the two of you reached your front door all too quickly.
"Get inside," he said, voice deep and tender in spite of the command. "An' lock up."
When he started to pull his hand away, you didn't let him. And you didn't budge when one of his eyebrows inched higher. "Not quite yet," you whispered, toe tapping the cement step you were standing on which put you slightly closer to him in height. "I have to tell you something."
Simon's lips pressed together in a tight line, and his chin dipped in a slight nod. "I need to tell ya' something, too. Just don't want to."
"What?" you asked immediately, the lightness you'd been feeling instantly replaced with a lead brick inside you.
"I'm leaving. Late tomorrow night. Not until after I make sure ya' get home from the pub."
"Leaving?" you whispered, heart pounding faster. He was in the military. Some sort of special mission involvement. You knew that much. And you could read between the lines to know that someone who looked and behaved like he did was probably about to risk his life, not for the first time. "Simon, where are you going?" you asked with tears in your eyes even though you figured he wouldn't be able to tell you.
Simon shook his head, his lips curling into a soft smile. It was a rare sight, and it made you dizzy. "Pretty little thing like you shouldn't be worried 'bout me." You wanted to tell him you would be. You'd worry nonstop until you saw him again. You'd come to rely on him, but mostly you liked how you felt when he was around. "There'll be someone to walk ya' home from work every night. I can promise that."
You wanted to lean in and kiss him, but instead you threw your arms around his neck. He was so solid and warm, and the scrape of his facial hair on your cheek was somehow comforting. "But I'll see you tomorrow, right?" you asked, voice breaking on a sob.
"I'll see ya' tomorrow, love."
He didn't move an inch as you extracted yourself, and the sound of his receding footsteps could only be heard once you'd locked yourself inside.
💀
Part three
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wolviensabes · 3 months ago
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NSFW Alphabet: Wolverine
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a/n: I was excited to write a nsfw version of this because his character was surprisingly fun and easy to write for this. I like Logan because you can really be flexible with how he is in bed. It all depends on preference and writer ofc, but still it was fun to write. Wrote mostly gender neutral, on parts where body is described, I wrote for afab and amab. Not edited please ignore mistakes ty <3
18+ under the cut. MDNI.
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A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):
Aftercare king.
He knows just what to do, especially since sex with him is normally pretty rough and crazy. He leaves you a mess under him and you're barely able to walk. "Atta girl/boy, princess/prince, up you come." he grabs hold of you and lifts you up, carrying you to the bathroom to get you all clean.
He's a messy partner so you need a shower to get all the sex off you. He leaves you alone to do anything you need privately, but otherwise he's helping you maintain your balance in the shower and drying off.
You're in such a dazed state, you feel dizzy and lightheaded, still a little loopy. He will get you back to bed and lay you down, feeling pride and satisfaction within himself at how he could bring you to such a state. Only he could do that to you.
He will hold you close to him, you feel cold now, his body will warm you up. He likes skin to skin, so unless you want a shirt, he won't dress you so he can feel your softer skin against his own.
The praise he gives you makes you feel so special and worth so much, it helps when you come down from your high, knowing he was satisfied and loved every moment of the act.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):
I don't think he really has a favorite part of his partner, but I will die on the hill that he likes his partners a little chunky. He loves to grab onto you, he likes how he can manhandle you without worry of hurting you.
Those plush hips and belly drive him insane. If you are afab, your ass draws his hand in every single time and he loves to smack and grab it. If you are amab, he will grab onto your thighs or soft, relaxed chest muscles and squeeze them. Both afab and amab, his hands come around from behind and gently knead your belly.
Logan is a dude so on himself...he holds his manhood very high, and for good reason.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):
Filthy.
He gets that shit all over the place and he loves it.
He loves marking you inside and out. He loves shooting his spunk on your body just as much but something about releasing inside you makes him somehow cum harder and with more.
He's not that bad taste wise, I mean cum doesn't taste great, but he's not bad. Not too bitter, not too salty, but his cum is thick. And when he does climax, he cums a LOT.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):
Logan, being a primal mutant, loves scents. It's one of the things that he relies on a lot, and your scent is intoxicating. He steals some of your clothes and smells them, or sometimes he will dive into your crotch and inhale you.
Not exactly dirty, but Logan secretly likes when you scratch his head or mess with his hair after sex. He likes to keep himself up as a tough guy most of the time but when you wind down, even if he's the one holding you, he sometimes scoots down enough to let you play with his hair.
He will move his head where he wants your hand to scratch and leans into it when you reach that sweet spot.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):
He's over 200 years old, he's got experience.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):
Literally anything where he can watch you mewl and moan for him.
He also likes from behind or positions where he can watch his cock sink into you with each thrust.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):
Logan isn't goofy but he also isn't serious. He's open to messing around and with tossing, turning, all sorts of play, it's not going to be serious 100% of the time.
He will chuckle and tease, sometimes funny noises are made, that's just how it is, and you both will laugh a little...but then you get back to it because who can resist?
Sometimes he will play fight you, wrestle you down to the bed and hold you there, with ease, and he smirks down at you trying to overpower him. It's a fun way to rile him up for sex and he enjoys it quite a bit.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):
Logan is hairy, but not insanely so. I think below he is pretty crazy but he trims it down enough once you two get more intimate. Though he thought it was funny watching you spit out his pubes.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):
He can be romantic but he is more passionate than anything. He likes to make sure you feel good, and he loves doing it. Once he gets you feeling good, he gets a little more rough and tells you what he likes without shame.
He's very forward, and his communication in the bedroom is immaculate. You wished he were like that outside of the bedroom sometimes, because there's no hesitation, no secrets, he's fully confident and tells you exactly what he wants.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):
Sometimes he masturbates, sometimes he doesn't. It all depends on how horny he is in the moment.
He'll fist his cock to the thought of you, or since he likes your scent a lot, he will practically inhale your underwear and jerk himself until he cums all over his hand.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):
Logan...he's kinky as hell.
Dom/sub dynamics drive him up the wall. He loves being in control, manhandling you, having you listen to what he says without fail.
Slight primal play would be up his alley. The playful wrestling and fighting gets him going and he likes to bite and mark you up during sex. Almost looking like an animal attacked you, but no, it was just Logan marking you as his.
Dirty talk king. He is so brazen with his language, whispering it into your ear as he pounds your poor, swollen hole full of another load.
Praise, praise, praise! He loves to praise you and how good you take his thick cock inside you.
Overstimulation/denial, he loves the control. He often makes you cum multiple times before even penetrating you just to hear you cry and whimper for him.
Maybe a slight breeding kink, since he loves the idea of filling you up to the brim with his thick cum, (this goes regardless of afab or amab), he's going to fill you up regardless if it's biologically possible to impregnate you or not. It's just for fantasy anyway.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do):
He will do it anywhere he feels like. He doesn't care who sees. You're his and he likes everyone around you to know it.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):
I love that most everyone agrees that wearing his clothes makes him fucking feral. He would lose it seeing you in a shirt of his...or maybe even naked and only wearing a flannel. Slowly unclasping each button to make him growl and almost rip the damn thing off you.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):
He'd never want to hurt you. There are things he likes that might harm you but he doesn't actually want to cause you harm.
He can be rough and he doesn't want to actually hurt you. A spank or choking just enough to get you dizzy is about as far as he would go. Logan would never intentionally try to harm you, especially during something as intimate as sex.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):
He has a hard time picking what he likes better. He loves diving between your legs and lapping you. But he also loves to see you choke around his thick cock.
Logan loves the dirtiness of it, his dick in your throat and watching you try your best to please him. He loves seeing you choke and gag on him, your face gets so sloppy with spit and cum, it makes him more crazy in bed when he's fucking you.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):
With Logan it can be 50/50. He can be rough and hard, or slower and passionate. Most of the time he is ensuring you cum multiple times, and then he fucks you into the bed while you cry around his cock. Then, he gives you another orgasm, he cums, and the cycle repeats until you literally can't take it anymore.
Then he cleans you up and makes sure you know how good you were for him. You'll have trouble walking for a few days.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):
He's down for a quickie, he can make you cum fast when he wants to. However he does prefer to make you whine and beg instead of giving you a solid, quick orgasm unless you really need it.
Sometimes he needs a quick one too, so a fast blowjob helps. But again, he likes to take his time rather than rush it.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):
He takes plenty of risks. He loves to test the waters with you and experiment with all sorts of things. He's down to try almost anything.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):
His mutation allows him to have enhanced stamina so be prepared for that.
He can go for literal hours and not be tired at all. His mutation also allows his refectory period to be very short. So...you will be filled to the brim.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):
I don't think he would have any for himself, but he would start to grow a collection if you had any or showed interest in some. He'd keep them under his bed in his room whenever you wanted to spice things up.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):
Logan is the king of teasing you. He loves to tease until you can't take it and tears are rolling down your cheeks.
He always gives you what you want in the end, but not without that asshole making you beg.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):
He doesn't give two shits who hears him, or you, he is loud. He grunts, groans, snarls. Not to mention the insane level of dirty talk he does, and he loves to make you scream out his name.
By the time you're done, you swear half the mansion heard you.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):
He dirty talks like crazy.
Sometimes he will fuck you when you're wearing his clothes, or when he comes back from a mission, he doesn't bother cleaning up before he storms up to your shared room and he fucks you.
Angry sexxx
He lets out his frustrations from missions as he pounds into you.
"Goddamn slim, stupid fuckin' self-designated leader thinks he can boss me around like I'm nothin' but a loyal scout to 'em." he grunts and snarls with each plap of his hips into you, his cock driving against you. You have no idea what happened on the mission but can you complain? No.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):
Logan's dick is huge let's get that out of the way.
He's thick, it feels like he rips you open each time he penetrates you and it feels fucking incredible. That also means lots of foreplay~
He's veiny, his cock throbs as he stands erect, and his balls are heavy.
He's a good 8 to 8.5 inches fully erect, the damn thing leaks precum constantly when he's horny.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):
Insanely high. He will fuck you every single day if he could.
He is down to fuck all the time, anytime. You just have to say the word and he's on top of you.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):
Logan makes sure you're comfortable before he even attempts to sleep. He stays awake, letting you curl into him and he watches you, making sure nothing he did was too much or causing pain.
Once you seem okay and have fallen asleep, he will allow himself to relax and fall asleep beside you.
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Thanks for reading.
*SNIKT*
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Tag list: @strawberryshortcake20
Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list by leaving a 🧡.
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dividers by @/strangergraphics
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skyahri · 7 months ago
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How They'd Do You |Naruto Men X Reader| HC
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Characters: Sasuke Uchiha, Kakashi Hatake, Shikamaru Nara, Madara Uchiha, and Naruto Uzumaki.
Summary: How they are in bed.
Warnings: NSFW. Mentions of sex and foreplay. Breeding kink, breast and nipple play, head, etc.
Masterlist Ko-fi
- - - - -
Sasuke Uchiha
Sasuke isn't one to give up control very easily, especially when he's in any sort of vulnerable state.
More often than not, he's on top of you, forcing your legs against your chest and not holding anything back as he thrusts into you.
On the rare occasion he allows you to top, he's still 100% in control. He always ends up taking over towards the end when he can't take it anymore. His release is close, and something in his brain is begging him to rail you.
He wouldn't be into actual choking in fear he'd lose control of his strength, but he's not afraid to use your neck as a handle of sorts to keep your body from moving too much.
Hes the embodiment of a breeding kink.
He's close to his end. He places his hand on your stomach and forces his seed in you.
If he's still got stamina, he's pushing you onto your hands and knees for round two, ass high up in the air.
"Not a single drop spills. Got it?"
Emergency contraceptive is your best friend, but let's be real. It fails sooner rather than later based on the sheer amount you rely on it.
Kakashi Hatake
Foreplay king. He loves head, both giving and receiving, sometimes even at the same time. Nipple play, fingering, whatever it is you're needing, he's providing.
Passionate.
When he does share his mind, it's never a light matter, and sex is no different.
Kissing, hand holding, praising - it's all a very important part of the act for him. He's pouring his heart and soul into you every time you're together.
But don't get it wrong, he's still a man. Those sweet nothings and soft whispers about how much he loves you quickly turn into dirty talk.
"You're such a good girl."
"You look so pretty wrapped around my cock."
"You're mine, you know that?"
He definitely sticks his fingers in your mouth.
After a certain point, he let's his dick do the thinking for him. You don't mind one bit.
He's all about aftercare. Rags or showers or just physical contact, whatever you want, he's got it. He knows he's not always the best at taking care of you, but this is one instance where he's confident about what he's doing.
Shikamaru Nara
My man is lazy and that doesn't change, even in the bedroom.
He usually doesn't go down on you but enjoys when you sit on his face. He'll wrap his arms around to grip your thighs. He's never one to turn down head but doesn't really make foreplay a priority.
Some might call him a pillow princess at first glance, but it's deeper than that. He has the control, he just let's you do the work most of the time.
You may be on top, but his strong grip and guiding fingers tell you exactly what to do.
Sometimes, he doesn't care for the pleasantries that come with dragging it out. He'll nestle between your legs and let his head dip down to your neck.
Lazy thrusts, but that's fine. Deeper is always better than faster.
He doesn't really do dirty talk, but he's definitely not silent. He's vocal, always groaning, maybe he'll tell you that he loves you if he's feeling a certain way.
Madara Uchiha
Most of the time, he's hate fucking you.
There's no time for foreplay when he's immediately slamming you against the wall when he gets home.
Despite all the anger radiating off of him as he mercilessly thrusts into you, he's calling you the sweetest nicknames he can think of. Love or Darling or something of the sort.
He always finishes inside. You're not sure if he's just too busy letting his frustration out to think, or if he's actively trying to get you pregnant.
It's both... sort of. For him, anger is just passion and fuel. It has nothing to do with his actions. He's pumping you full of his cum because he likes to claim you. He wants you to bare his children. He wants people to know you're his.
Aftercare isn't as straightforward for him. He's not offering to clean you up, but he tries to find ways to subtly apologize for turning you into a toy.
Naruto Uzumaki
Naruto runs on pure instinct in every aspect of his life.
He's doing what feels right in the moment and confirming it with you if it's something he's unsure about. (Consent is key).
He's a people pleaser. He's always making sure he takes care of you before he even thinks about himself. Eating you out, fingering, breast play, whatever you want.
He's sloppy. It's just something that always emerges with him. He's placing wet kisses on your neck, his hand placement can sometimes be a bit awkward, but it all adds to the experience.
His head gets so foggy with love and lust that he honestly can't think straight. The way his body takes control and he ravages you in an almost primal way, it's to die for.
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d1stalker · 3 months ago
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I Want You [Logan Howlett]
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Summary: Logan is jealous of you and Scott's friendship, not knowing your true feelings.
Warnings: SMUT! 18+ only please. fem/afab!reader. brief argument, logan being stubborn comme d'hab, making out, oral, riding, you get the idea ;)
WC: 2.9k - MASTERLIST
The sun is setting, casting long shadows across the X-Mansion grounds. You find yourself on the patio, leaning against the railing, watching as the last rays of sunlight dip below the trees. The tranquility of the moment is soothing, a brief escape from the chaos that often fills your days.
Your mind drifts to earlier that day, when you and Scott had been working together in the training room. He's always been a good friend—someone you can rely on when you need advice or a steady hand in a crisis. Scott had patiently helped you fine-tune your abilities, offering encouragement and constructive feedback.
"You're really getting the hang of it," Scott had said with a smile as you both took a break, sitting on the edge of the training mat. "I'm impressed."
"Thanks, Scott," you had replied, grateful for his support. "Couldn't have done it without your help."
He had shrugged, a modest grin on his face. "We make a good team. It's nice to have someone who gets it, you know?"
You had nodded, feeling the warmth of genuine friendship between you. Scott was like the brother you never had, someone who understood the challenges you faced and never judged you for them.
The sound of heavy footsteps approaching breaks your reverie. You recognize them immediately—Logan.
"You and Summers seem to be gettin' pretty close."
You turn to face him, raising an eyebrow at his accusatory tone. "Scott? We're just friends, Logan. You know that."
He crosses his arms over his chest, scowl deepening. "Doesn't look like it from where I'm standin'."
Frustration bubbles up inside you, and you can’t help but let it spill over. "And where exactly are you standing? Lurking in the shadows, jumping to conclusions?"
His eyes narrow, jaw clenching. "I'm just callin' it like I see it."
"You don't see anything," you retort, matching his intensity. "You're too busy looking for problems that aren't there."
He steps closer, his presence imposing but familiar. "I see the way he looks at you."
You roll your eyes, exasperated. "And how do I look at him, Logan?"
"Like he hung the damn moon," Logan mutters, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice.
"That's rich coming from the guy who's too stubborn to see what's right in front of him," you snap back, heart pounding.
He pauses, taken aback by your words. "What do you mean by that?"
You take a deep breath, the weight of your unspoken feelings pressing down on you. "I mean, I'm not in love with Scott. I'm in love with you. But you're too busy being jealous and stubborn to notice."
He blinks, surprise flickering across his features. His defenses falter for a moment, and you see the real him beneath the rugged exterior. "Me? Why the hell would you—"
"Because you're you, Logan," you interrupt, voice softer now. "You're gruff and infuriating, but you're also brave and kind. You see through the facade I put up, and you make me want to be better."
He looks at you, his hardened exterior cracking. "I thought I wasn't good enough for you,” he says, quietly. 
You step closer, reaching out to touch his arm. The contact is electric, as always, grounding both of you in the moment. "You don't get to decide that for me. I've made my choice."
He stares at you, a mix of disbelief and longing in his eyes. "All this time... and I was just bein' a damn fool."
"Yeah, you were,” you say with a smile, the tension between you dissipating. 
Logan lets out a low chuckle, the sound warm and genuine. "Guess I should apologize for actin' like a jerk, huh?"
You nod, teasingly. "That would be a good start."
He takes a deep breath, looking into your eyes with a sincerity that makes your heart race. "I'm sorry, darlin'. I was stupid, and I let my jealousy get the best of me."
You smile, feeling the last remnants of your anger melt away. "Apology accepted, but you're gonna have to make it up to me."
Tthe familiar glint returns to his eyes as he smirks. "Oh, I will. Count on it."
A comfortable silence falls between you. The night air is cool and refreshing, and you can hear the distant sounds of laughter from inside the mansion.
"Why didn’t you ever say anything?" Logan asks, his voice quieter now, almost tentative.
"I guess I was scared," you admit. "Scared of ruining what we have, of pushing you away. You’re not exactly easy to read."
He chuckles softly. "Yeah, well, you're not the only one who’s scared. I’m not good at this...feelin’ stuff. Always thought it’d get in the way."
"It doesn’t have to," you say, hoping your words convey the sincerity you feel. "You don’t have to do this alone, Logan. We can figure it out together."
He nods, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. You share a moment of quiet understanding. For once, there’s no need for words. You both know what this means.
"Come on," Logan says suddenly, breaking the silence. "Let’s get outta here for a while."
"Where to?" you ask, curiosity piqued.
There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he shrugs. "Anywhere but here. I hear there’s a nice little spot by the lake where the stars look like they’re close enough to touch."
You laugh, "Alright, lead the way.”
---
The walk to the lake is peaceful, the cool night air wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. The sound of your footsteps on the gravel path blends with the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. You and Logan walk side by side, your fingers occasionally brushing against each other, only feeding the tension that seems to be growing as each moment passes.
When you reach the lake, the water shimmers under the starlight, a breathtaking view that makes you catch your breath. Logan finds a spot on the grassy bank, and you settle down beside him, lying back to gaze up at the sky.
"It's beautiful here," you whisper, feeling the tranquility of the moment seep into your bones.
Logan nods, his gaze fixed on you instead of the stars. "Yeah, it is."
His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. You rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. It's a comforting sound, grounding you in the reality of this moment.
You tilt your head up to look at him, meeting his eyes. There's a softness there that you haven't seen before, a vulnerability that makes your heart swell. "I've wanted this for a long time, Logan."
He smiles, a rare and genuine expression that lights up his features. "Me too. Guess I was too stubborn to admit it."
You chuckle softly, reaching up to trace your fingers along the line of his jaw. "I like this side of you."
He catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he's not careful. The world around you fades away as Logan leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It's slow and tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but quickly deepens into something more urgent and heated.
You shift closer, your bodies fitting together perfectly as his hand slides up your back, pulling you even closer. Your fingers weave into his hair, anchoring yourself as the kiss intensifies, leaving you breathless.
Breaking away briefly, his forehead rests against yours as he catches his breath. "You sure about this?" he murmurs, his voice low and husky.
You nod, your own breath coming in short gasps. "Absolutely."
With a growl of approval, Logan captures your lips again, the kiss filled with a hunger that leaves you dizzy. He shifts, pulling you with him as he rolls onto his back, guiding you to straddle his hips. His hand traces down your side, sending shivers of anticipation through you. The world around you feels distant and unimportant, the only thing that matters is the man with you and the way he makes you feel.  
As the kiss deepens, you lose yourself in the moment, the passion and intensity of it all consuming you. Slowly, you rock back and forth, grinding your hot core against his growing bulge. Something akin to a growl releases from his throat, as his hands tighten their grip on you.
Breaking the kiss, Logan trails his lips down your neck, planting soft, lingering kisses along your skin. You tilt your head back, allowing him to continue his journey, savouring the sensation of his mouth against you. He hooks his fingers into the hem of your shirt, pausing to look up at you. With deliberate slowness, he slides your shirt up and over your head, discarding it with a flick of his wrist. He takes a moment to admire you, his hands tracing the curves of your waist with a gentle reverence.
“Wow,” he breathes, his voice rough with emotion. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”
His eyes roam over you appreciatively, lingering on your bare skin. His words and gaze make your heart race and heat flood your cheeks.
“Says you,” you murmur, feeling a heady mix of vulnerability and desire under his gaze.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispers, flipping you over so you’re now on your back as he hovers above you. “I’ve thought about this moment more times than I can count.”
He begins to kiss the valley between your breasts, hands never ceasing their exploration of your body. Your grasp finds the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head, revealing the hard planes of his chest. Your fingers trace over his muscles, delighting in the way they ripple beneath your touch.
Logan grins, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he moves even lower, his kisses trailing down your stomach. Each touch is electric, leaving a path of heat in its wake. His fingers find the waistband of your pants, slowly sliding them down your legs. With your pants discarded, Logan settles himself between your thighs, his hands gently parting them to make room for himself. His touch is firm yet gentle, and you shiver in anticipation as he leans in, his breath warm against your most sensitive skin.
He starts with soft kisses along your inner thighs, teasing you with his lips and the occasional scrape of his teeth. The feeling sends a thrill through you, making your heart race and your body ache for more. Finally, Logan focuses his attention on your centre, his mouth moving with expert precision as he tastes you. The first touch of his tongue is like fire, a sensation so intense that it steals your breath away. You gasp, your hands finding their way to his hair, anchoring yourself to him as the pleasure begins to build.
He works you with a practiced ease, his tongue tracing patterns that have you arching into him, seeking more of the exquisite sensations he’s giving you. He alternates between gentle flicks and firmer strokes, finding a rhythm that leaves you trembling beneath him. Your soft moans and gasps fill the night air, mingling with the sound of the lake and the distant rustle of leaves. Logan responds to your every sound, adjusting his movements, his sole focus on drawing out your pleasure.
As the tension coils within you, winding tighter with each deft movement of his tongue, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of release. Logan senses your impending climax, his efforts doubling as he brings you closer and closer to the brink. With a final flick of his tongue at your clit with gentle, firm pressure, he pushes you over the edge, sending you spiraling into ecstasy. The world dissolves around you as the waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you breathless and shaking.
Logan stays with you through it all, his touch gentle and reassuring as you come down from your high. He presses a soft kiss to your thigh before moving back up to lie beside you, gathering you into his arms as you catch your breath. “Logan,” you whisper, feeling a warmth that’s more than just physical spreading through you.
He smiles, a satisfied, tender expression on his face as he brushes a stray hair from your cheek. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs.
You shift slightly, your fingers tracing the lines of his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. The sight of him, hair tousled and eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and desire, stirs something within you. You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.
Responding eagerly to your initiation, the kiss deepens as your hands explore each other with a renewed sense of curiosity and hunger, as if he didn’t just make you finish with his mouth. You push him gently onto his back, straddling his hips as you trade positions once again, trailing kisses down his chest, savoring the way his muscles tense under your touch.
Your hands make quick work of his belt and jeans, tugging them down to reveal the hard length of him. He’s beautiful. Logan’s breath hitches as you take him in your hand, stroking him with a slow, deliberate rhythm that draws a low groan from his lips.
You lower yourself further, your lips and tongue exploring every inch of him, tasting and teasing until his hands are tangled in your hair, guiding you with a mix of urgency and need. The sounds he makes, the way he reacts to your touch, only spurs you on, and you take him deeper, reveling in the way his body responds to yours.
“Darlin’,” Logan rasps, his voice strained with pleasure, “you’re gonna be the death of me.”
You smile against him, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, the heat in his eyes matching the fire burning within you. “Well, don’t go dying on me now,” you tease, moving back up to capture his lips in a heated kiss.
His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as you settle over him. You barely break the kiss as you grab his length and slowly sit down on it. The pleasure of being filled by him draws a gasp from your lips, and a hearty groan vibrates underneath you.
You brace yourself against his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath your palms, as you begin to move. The rhythm starts slow and steady, each movement deliberate as you rise and fall, taking him deeper with each movement of your hips. Soon enough, you feel him begin to thrust up into you, matching your pace, pounding into you even deeper than before. 
Logan’s grip on your hips tightens, guiding you as you pick up the pace, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. The sound of your breathy sighs and his low groans fill the air, mingling with the gentle rustle of the leaves and the lapping of the lake against the shore.
His eyes remain locked on yours, a dark and heated gaze that stokes the fire within you. You feel the tension coiling tight, winding with each movement until it’s all-consuming, a need that demands release.
“I’m close,” you gasp, leaning forward to capture his lips in a heated kiss. 
The tension within you builds to a crescendo, a tidal wave of sensation that sweeps you away. With one final movement, you tumble over the edge, your release crashing over you in a symphony of pleasure that leaves you trembling in his arms.
He follows soon after, a low, guttural moan escaping him as he finds his own release, his hands finding and squeezing your breasts while his body shudders beneath you.
When the waves of pleasure subside, you collapse against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath you. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, and you smile against his skin, feeling a sense of peace and contentment that only comes from being with him.
The night air cools the heat between you, and you nestle against Logan’s side, feeling safe and cherished in the aftermath of your shared passion. His fingers trace lazy patterns along your back, soothing and grounding you as you bask in the warmth of his embrace.
“Wow,” you whisper, a soft laugh escaping you as you meet his gaze, the stars reflected in his eyes. “That was…”
“Incredible,” he finishes for you, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. “You’ve got me all figured out, darlin’.”
You chuckle, feeling the warmth of his words settle in your chest. “I think we’ve got eachother figured out.”
“Yeah, we do,” Logan agrees, pulling you closer, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.
As the night stretches on, you find comfort and peace in Logan’s embrace, knowing that this is just the beginning of something beautiful and real. You’ve found a home in each other’s arms—a place where you truly belong.
---------
A/N: this is my first time ever writing smut yikes lol please leave feedback!
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itneverendshere · 2 months ago
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can we see rafe with a pouge reader and they are dating. they go out to go grocery shopping and rafe sees that she has a calculator out and watches as she picks up an item then types it in the calculator and then puts it back and chooses a cheaper option and he has to tell her that she doesn’t need to do that
birds of a feather - rafe cameron
word count: 2.9k belongs to this universe
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The grocery store is quiet for a saturday afternoon, a rarity that makes the experience almost peaceful. Fluorescent lights buzz softly overhead as Rafe pushes a cart lazily with one hand, his other hand draped comfortably around his girl, you. 
He catches your eye and smiles, relishing the way you always lean into him, your bodies fitting together perfectly. Dating you was like finding the missing piece of himself—something he always knew he needed but never thought he’d find, let alone on the other side of the island.
Rafe grabs a box of cereal, tossing it into the cart without a second thought. “You good on milk, babe?” he asks, scanning the shelves for anything else that might catch his eye.
You nodded absentmindedly, focusing elsewhere. He notices that you are holding your phone in one hand and have a small calculator app open. His brow furrows as he watches you pick up a box of pasta, glance at the price, and then quickly type something into the calculator. After a moment of calculation, you place the box back on the shelf and reach for a cheaper brand.
Rafe's heart clenches. He hadn’t really thought about the differences between you in this way before. He knows you don't have the same privileges he does—didn’t grow up in a life of luxury as he had—but it’s moments like this that make him feel like a fucking entitled douche. 
He watches you do it again, this time with a jar of tomato sauce. You compare the prices, calculate the difference, and opt for the less expensive one.
“Hey,” Rafe stops you as you reach for another item. “What’re you doing?”
You blink, as if coming out of a trance, and look up at him with almost embarrassed smile. “Just trying to make sure I stay within the budget. Groceries can add up, y’know?”
He can’t stand the idea of you worrying about something as basic as food. Sure, he understands budgeting—everyone has to do it to some extent—but this? This was different. This was a mindset.
He gently takes the phone from your hand and slips it into his back pocket, keeping your hand in his. “You don’t need to do that. I’ve got you, okay?”
“Rafe, I—”
“I’m serious,” he interrupted, “You don’t have to worry about the prices. Just get what you want. We’re fine.”
You are grateful—God, you were always grateful—but there’s something else, something that has kept you up at night.
You hate relying on him. Not because you don’t trust him or appreciate everything he does for you, but because it reminds you of the whispers you’ve been hearing ever since you started dating. 
You can almost hear the voices now, like a nagging reminder in the back of your mind. “Gold digger,” they’d hiss. “Dirty Pogue. Look at her, clinging to him for the money. She’s got him wrapped around her finger, totally pussy-whipped.”
The rumors had messed with your head the first time you’d heard them, and even now, they still hurt, despite knowing they weren’t true. But the worst part is that a small, insecure part of you hates there might be some truth to what they said. You didn’t want Rafe to feel like he had to take care of you, or that you were using him for his money. You love him too much to ever want him to think that.
You glance at him, watching as he casually tosses another item into the cart without checking the price, without even a second thought. He’s so at ease, so unbothered by the things that you had worried about during your entire lifetime. You can’t help but feel guilty, like you’re dragging him down, making him take on responsibilities that should be yours alone. 
A you walk down another aisle, you keep your eyes on the floor, as you force the words out. “I know you’re just trying to help, and I really appreciate it, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me.”
Rafe stops in his tracks, turning to face you fully. His brows knit together in concern like he genuinely can't grasp what you just said.
“I don’t feel like that,” he says,“I want to take care of you because I love you. It’s not about feeling like I have to—it’s because I want to.”
“But I hear what people say, Rafe—”
“They don’t know shit,” he scoffs, hand wrapping tightly around the cart, “They don’t know. Anyone who says otherwise can go fuck themselves.”
You sigh, your shoulders slumping as you lean into him, “It’s not that simple, baby. But I appreciate the thought.”
His other hand tilts your chin up so you’re looking directly at him, “It is that simple. I love you. You love me. That’s it.”
You know he means it, that he’s not just saying it to please you, but it doesn’t make the worries disappear. You nod, giving him a small smile, but he knows your brain is working double shifts, imagining all kinds of scenarios.
He sighs, knowing this conversation is far from over, and presses a gentle peck against your temple, all while murmuring, “Let’s finish up here and get out of this place.”
You agree, and the two of you continue down the aisle. Your hands are itching to take your phone out of his back pocket, and your brain scrambling to do simple math. You hate it. You automatically reach for the off-brand items, skip over the more expensive snacks, and choose the smaller sizes of products to stretch your budget. Rafe is abnormally quiet and you know it’s taking every will power in his body not to pick you up and lock you in his truck while he finishes shopping for you. 
He pauses in front of the snacks aisle, his eyes catching on your favorite candy. It’s something he knows you love but rarely allow yourself to buy. Without hesitation, he grabs a couple of bags and tosses them into the cart.
“Rafe, those are expensive—” you start to protest, but he cuts you off with a playful grin.
“They’re my favorite too.”
You open your mouth to argue, but the way he looks at you, with so much affection, makes the words die on your lips. Instead, you shake your head huffing as he wraps his arm around your shoulders dragging you along, “You’re so annoying.”
“Don’t be mean, baby.”
You squeeze his waist in retaliation. 
When you finally reach the checkout line, he watches as you nervously glance at the total on the screen. It’s a small thing, for him, but it’s enough to make him realize just how much it affects you. Without saying a word, he hands over his card to the cashier, ignoring the way you try to protest.
“Rafe, you don’t have to—” you start, but he shakes his head, cutting you off.
“I know,” he says firmly, “But I want to.”
You bite your lip, nodding reluctantly as he pays for the groceries. It’s a small gesture, but it means the world to him. He wants to take care of you, to make sure you never have to worry about something as basic as food ever again. He wants to give you the life you deserve, the one you never experienced on The Cut.
He opens the trunk of his car, starting to load the groceries while you stand there, too quiet. He hates not hearing the sound of your voice. 
“Hey,” he closes the trunk and turning to face you. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
He steps closer, his hand finding a home in your neck, thumb caressing your pulsing point, “Forget about them okay?”
You sigh, forehead touching his chin, “I’m trying. I just don’t want to be a burden to you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me.”
“You’re not a burden,” he says firmly, fingers pulling your head up, his blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that, no matter how often it happens, still takes your breath away. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Now get that fine ass inside the car.”
You can’t help but laugh at the way he says it, so casually and with so much conviction that it leaves no room for you to second guess his thoughts. His confidence, his overwhelming trust in everything that he says, is one of the things you love most about him. He’s always been like that—bold, sure of himself, and unafraid to go after what he wants. And right now, what he wants is you. 
“Why?” You tease, rolling your eyes but smiling as you let him guide you toward the car “You gonna make me if I don’t?”
You wish you could photograph the grin on his face, the way his beautiful eyes seem to drink you in like he’ll die if he doesn’t look at you all the time. 
“Oh, you know I will,” he says as he steps closer, his hand slipping down to give your ass a firm but playful slap. The sound echoes through the quiet parking lot, and you gasp, more from surprise than anything else.
“Rafe!” you scold, though your laughter makes it known there��s no real annoyance. The smirk on his face only grows, clearly pleased with himself.
“Consider that a warning,” he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I’d hate to have to follow through.”
You try to hold back a grin, biting your lip as you tilt your head to look up at him. 
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I?” His tone is a challenge.
For a moment, you consider pushing more just to see what he’d do, but the way he’s looking at you—like he’s ready to scoop you up and take you back to his bed right then and there—makes you rethink it. Instead, you play along, giving him a coy smile as you turn and head for the door.
“That’s what I thought,” he calls after you, his deep voice filled with a smug satisfaction that makes you roll your eyes again. Before you can reach for the door handle, he gently pulls it open for you. You slide into the passenger seat, and before you touch the seatbelt, Rafe is leaning in, his hands brushing over yours as he clicks the belt into place.
“Safe and sound,” he murmurs, as he pulls back slightly. It’s something so simple, yet so endearing he has insisted on doing ever since the two of you started dating.
You smile up at him, practically oozing in your love for him as your hand reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.
“Thank you."
His gaze softens as he leans down to press a tender kiss to your lips, “Anything for you,” he whispers, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek before he finally steps back and closes the door.
As he rounds the front of the car to get in on his side, you can’t help but watch him. It still blows your mind that this is real. The way he looks at you, the way he takes care of you without making you feel small—it’s everything you never knew you needed. You’re still not used to someone loving you like this, so openly. You never imagined Rafe Cameron would be that someone. 
He starts the engine, the low hum filling the silence between you. The radio automatically tunes to a soft indie station, one of your favorites, and Rafe reaches over to lace his fingers with yours. 
“I’m cooking tonight.”
You turn to him, even though you know his attention is on the road, “Really?”
Rafe’s thumb absentmindedly rubs circles on the back of your hand, “Hmmm.”
“So you can burn down the kitchen again?”
“Baby, that was one time.”
You snort, the image of Rafe with a fire extinguisher still fresh in your memory, “What’s on the menu?”
He grins, “I was thinking we could make that pasta you like, with the garlic bread.”
Your heart swells a little at the thoughtfulness behind his choice. He remembers all the little things—your favorite foods, the way you like your coffee, the songs that make you smile.
“Are you trying to get laid?”
He laughs, loud and boisterous as he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles, “So you don’t want desert?”
You hit his shoulder gently, all too aware you’re still in a moving vehicle, “Don’t be nasty.”
His touch moves to your thighs, squeezing gently, "Can't help it when I'm around you."
The smile tugging at your lips is impossible to hide. There's something so easy about being with Rafe, despite everything. Despite the whispers, the looks, the insecurities that sometimes creep in—he has a way of making you feel like none of it matters. 
The city lights begin to twinkle on the horizon, the sun dipping low in the sky. It's peaceful, the kind of quiet that lets you sink into yourself. The idea of a cozy night in, just the two of you cooking dinner together, fills you with a warmth that has nothing to do with the summer heat outside.
Rafe glances over at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Penny for your thoughts?"
You shake your head, the smile widening on your face. "Just thinking about how lucky I am."
He quirks an eyebrow, "I think I'm the lucky one."
"Yeah, but you're also really annoying," you tease, earning a chuckle from him.
"Annoying but irresistible," he counters smoothly, pulling into the driveway of his house 
He parks the car and quickly rounds the front to open your door, always the gentleman. As you step out, you look up at him, your heart swelling with a love so deep it almost overwhelms you. It's not just the grand gestures or the way he spoils you—it's the little things, the way he makes you feel cherished, the way he sees you for who you are and loves you anyway.
"Ready for our gourmet meal?" he asks as he takes your hand, leading you towards the front door.
You laugh, leaning into him as you walk. "If by gourmet you mean slightly burnt, then yes."
He chuckles, his arm slipping around your waist as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "With you, it's always perfect."
Before you can walk through the front door, he stops all too suddenly, dragging you against him. You’re confused for a second, looking up to see him ogle you.
“What?” You stutter out, “Something’s wrong?”
Rafe shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his pink lips as he looks down at you with that same adoring expression that never fails to make your heart  stop. "No, nothing’s wrong.”
You blink up at him, still confused, “Rafe...”
 “I know you worry sometimes. About what people say, about what they think. But I don’t give a fuck about any of that. I only care about you, about us.” His hand moves to cup your face, his thumb moving gently along your cheekbone. “I love you, y’know that? Right? Aways.”
Your breath hitches at the sudden emotion in his voice. It’s random moments like this that remind you why you fell in love with him in the first place—beneath the confident, cocky exterior, Rafe Cameron has a heart that beats fiercely for the people he cares about, especially for you. 
“I love you,” you whisper, feeling the words settle between you like a vow.
“I love you more,” he replies, his voice full of conviction. Then, with a small grin, he adds, “And I’m gonna marry you someday. We’re gonna have our own place, our own life. Just you and me.”
It’s not the first time you’ve talked about the future, but hearing him say it so plainly, so confidently, sends a warmth spreading through your whole body.
“Is that a proposal, Cameron?” you tease, though your voice wavers just a little, eyes burning as you pathetically attempt not to cry.
“Not yet,” he smirks, leaning down to press a peck to the corner of your lips, “But when I do, you’ll know. It’s gonna be perfect. Just like you.”
You pull back slightly, resting your forehead against his as you take a deep breath, trying to calm the stupid fluttering in your chest. “You mean it?”
“More than anything,” he replies without hesitation. “I want to build a life with you, baby. The kind of life where you never have to worry about anything, where you can just be happy.”
Tears form at the corners of your eyes, but they’re the good kind, the kind that comes from being overwhelmed with love. So different from the ones you’d experienced as a kid, growing up. You nod, not sure how to explain how you’re feeling inside, so instead, you pull him down for another kiss, letting your lips show what your voice can’t.
You kiss each other like you have all the time in the world, which you have, savoring the way your lips fit perfectly against his. There’s no rush, no urgency—just you two. 
When you pull apart, both of you slightly breathless, Rafe gives you a lopsided grin, his lips just barely grazing yours as he speaks, “So, how about we start with dinner?”
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lobautumny · 1 year ago
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So like, the Reddit strike going on right now, yeah? I've been seeing a lot of people comment on how they appreciate the protest and then go on to say that this has the notable downside of them constantly looking up questions and not being able to easily find the answers because all of the easily-findable answers are exclusively on Reddit. I am not sure if most of the people making this observation are within the line of thought of "man, maybe this protest isn't such a good idea after all" or "man, it really sucks that we've let the internet get so consolidated," and I'm really hoping its the latter.
Like, all of this? This right here? Reddit making a shitty, anti-consumer grab for money and control over how people are allowed to access the information on their servers, and the website going dark in protest causing tons of people to not be able to access important information? This is exactly what people mean when they say that it's bad that the internet has shrunk down so much and is mostly comprised of, like, 10 websites. It's a fucking problem that one company making one bad decision and causing their website to crash and burn can jeopardize so much of humanity's cumulative information.
This two-day glimpse into the internet without Reddit is the warning shot. Imagine what will happen if Reddit actually goes down for good for one reason or another one day. Imagine what will happen if/when Discord or Fandom bites the dust, or gets rendered practically-unusable without paying an ever-increasing premium because they're owned by blood-sucking corporate leeches.
Another big thing is Twitter clamping down really hard on your ability to DM people if you don't have Twitter Blue. If this goes through, it'll put a ton of artists and sex workers who rely on Twitter DMs for their business operation into a shitty situation. Now, obviously, it's not gonna be the end of the world for them, but once again, it feels like a warning shot to me. Twitter is a sinking ship, and unless something changes and it starts to course-correct, I worry that it'll go under and all of the creators who rely on it will suddenly be in an extremely precarious situation.
These are the sorts of things that we, as the users of the internet, need to seriously think about as time goes on, and if we don't find an adequate answer sooner, we're going to pay for it later. I still hold that the best solution is to start making and using more individual, niche websites. Things like Twitter, Reddit, Discord, etc. have their place, of course, but I seriously think a lot was lost through the death of things like individual forums and the existence of many different wiki-hosting sites.
We need a concerted effort, not just on the side of larger creators, but on the users themselves, to stop exclusively using these larger websites and support the creation and growth of smaller, more niche websites, and prevent a catastrophe before it actually happens. I simply hope that people with larger platforms than my own pick up on all this and start talking about it and swaying people to act sooner rather than later. I know it's possible to correct the problem of the mysteriously tiny internet before a modern Library of Alexandria moment happens, I just don't know if that correction will actually happen in time.
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ariaste · 5 months ago
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Apparently there was some lil drama in Good Omens fandom again about people being deeply nervous and scared of the end of Season 3, and I wrote this in the replies of one of the asks that Neil Gaiman answered, but I feel like it is deserving of being crossposted into its own post (in a slightly expanded form) so folks actually see it.
cmere, good omens fandom, we're having an intervention. a Come To Jesus talk, if you will.
First of all, I'm literally begging the fandom to:
learn what personal boundaries are, especially around parasocial relationships with strangers. (Suggestion: When sending asks to authors you like, use "polite work email" etiquette, not "joking with a friend" etiquette. The latter comes off REAL weird sometimes, and sometimes outright mean/rude/bullying).
take a couple deep fucking breaths
embrace the philosophy of The Author's Intent Only HAS To Matter To The Author, It Does Not Have To Matter To YOU. If you do not like the author's intent, you can say "hmmmm no thanks" and write some fanfic. That's what it's for.
Friends, Romans, countrymen..... Stop trying to make Neil Gaiman responsible for your happiness. For one thing, that is an absolutely unfair and cruel burden to put on a stranger who doesn't know you. Neil is only responsible for Neil's happiness. You're responsible for your own happiness. In fact, do not rely on ANY external source to guarantee your happiness, not even very nice people like Neil, not even your significant other, not even your family members. Yes, those people might be able to help you with your happiness, but they cannot guarantee it. Expecting a third party to guarantee your happiness is how corporations exploit you, and it is the source of all media trauma. Take agency over your own joy! Don't give away your power! Plan to DIY your personal ideal ending!
Neil is not telepathic, Neil cannot know all your hopes and dreams and wishes, nor SHOULD he be expected to know them, nor does he have space to know them. He is busy with things like his own and Terry's hopes and dreams and wishes. Their hopes/dreams/wishes are just as valid and important as yours, aren't they? Yes, they are. So calm down. caaaaaaaallllllm dowwwwwn.
Yes, I love the show very much too, but at the end of the day it is just a story. And the great thing about stories is that you are empowered to retell them in a different way. It is not real, so if you end up unsatisfied by S3, then blithely impose your own reality and build your own joy. It's not like it's the End Of The World or anything (lil fandom joke there for you)
And look, if you read this and you're feeling Mad and Upset or Frustrated about it, that is a symptom that you are maybe feeling a little stung in your Media Trauma parts. I am sorry that other stories have let you down in the past, and I really sympathize that you are feeling scared about the fate of this story that really matters to you. You've invested a lot of love into it! I really understand the fear! You don't want to be hurt again, and that's super understandable and normal.
But bestie, literally the only way for you to find a story that's exactly perfect for you and that won't hurt you at all is for you to write it yourself. I know that sucks to hear, but it is the truth. If you keep pinning a hope of perfection on other people's stories, you will keep getting traumatized by the media you consume. Love other people's stories for what they ARE, not for the stories that you WANTED them to be -- the same way that we love people, you know? You have to let a person be their own person; you can't force them to be someone else. That's fucked up, so if you notice that you keep trying to do that, maybe go to therapy so you can be that Someone-Else person for yourself (or, if you can't afford therapy, read some self-help books from the library or find some good channels on Youtube who make content that might help with that (I really like JulienHimself)).
If you need a story to be something big and important for you, if you are seeking catharsis and healing from a story that matters to you and you're really scared that you won't get it, then open a Word document and start typing. You can do it. You're a human being, and you evolved to tell stories. Literally it's a species specialization. You got this. It's gonna be okay, because you're going to seize the means of production and MAKE it okay. Yes? Yes.
Good Omens S3 will be what it will be. It will be what Neil wants it to be and what Terry would have wanted it to be. Period. That IS actually the highest achievement and the most noble and admirable accomplishment that we can hope for. And hey, maybe what they want overlaps with what you want, and that will be wonderful! But that will be merely a happy coincidence. The only person who can TRULY center your wants is YOU. So stop trying to trap Neil into doing it, please, because he's busy and it's not his job, AND because your wants do matter and you deserve to have someone who can give your wants their 100% full attention (aka you. that's you. only you can do that. Not even your best friends in the world can do it. Not even your mom can do it, at least not if you're old enough to know how to read.)
It's gonna be okay. Really. Really, it is. No, stop typing the snarky melodramatic reply. This is not the time for jokes; I'm being serious. It's going to be okay. Neil Gaiman can only break your heart exactly as much as you allow him to do so. That's how art works. You have to consent in order to be affected by it, and you can withdraw your consent at any time. You're going to be okay. I promise. As long as you choose to claim your own agency and your own empowerment as an individual, then all will be well and all manner of things will be well.
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reiderwriter · 5 months ago
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🔫 Oh, Captain, My Captain 🔫
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Pairing: Unit Chief!Spencer Reid x Fem BAU!Reader
For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024
Requested: Unit Cheif!Spencer who uses gun training as an excuse to rub up on the new member🤭
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI Gun kink, dubcon, dry humping, pictures/photos, age gap, Pervert! Spencer, unprotected sex, implied cream pie, semi-public sex, boss x employee dynamic, spanking, masturbation, slight cum play, degradation (slut, whore etc), praise kink if you squint (good girl).
A/N: This is my first entry for the CM Kink Bingo challenge 2024~! I chose a lot of the prompts based on some of the smut requests in my inbox and let my TELL you I was SO EXCITED to write Unit Chief + gun kink!!! I'm so excited for this entire challenge tbh, it reminds me of the good old days on past years' Kinktober 😂🥰
Masterlist || Bingo Board
When Spencer Reid was made the interim Unit Chief for the BAU, he agreed with the reasoning. At the time, he really couldn't argue that he was aptly experienced, responsible enough to make big decisions, and reliable. And whilst he had been through a lot in the last two decades with the FBI, he still did value his own sense of morality. 
He accepted the job and then was assigned you as an intern, and suddenly, he didn't agree with any previous assessment of him. 
Experienced, yes, but he was still stammering and rambling when discussing simple things like the weather. He certainly wasn't responsible enough to keep his eyes off you, and he probably couldn't be relied on in the field to focus instead of thinking about your pretty, plump lips and how they would feel wrapped around his cock. 
All morality had gone out of the window after a week of working with you when he closed his office blinds, popped his pants open and took his cock in hand, relieving himself while staring at your newly printed ID card. 
He had a lot of power, during the few months Emily was away, and he was trying desperately not to use it. 
Unfortunately, with great power comes a great amount of orders to give, and since you reported directly to Unit Chief Reid, you'd become his de facto shadow for the first few weeks. You bought him coffees when you got your own, asked him for quick run downs of past cases so you could take notes and remember relevant details for later, asked him for help writing reports. 
Which caused the blinds to be drawn at least once a day as he desperately tried to keep his hands off you. 
Emily had joked when leaving him behind that she'd usually give the new boss the “don't shit where you eat” speech, especially with people in your chain of command, but it really wasn't necessary with him. Of all people. 
It didn't help that you were so damn clumsy in the office. You were usually pretty calm and collected, but since starting at the BAU, the pressure was getting to you a bit. 
You made small mistakes, you double, and triple checked your work, and you were constantly in Spencer's office asking him for opinions on topics, for background information, and for, well, reassurance. 
And you dropped stuff. A lot of stuff. 
Your analytical Monday have been perfectly suited to the BAU, but somewhere between your head and your hands, all your body parts refused to function adeptly. You'd dropped things constantly, tripped on your own feet, and constantly bumped into people even while they stood still. 
Not to mention the time your dropped your (thankfully, iced) coffee all over Spencer's lap when you'd brought him his own. 
“Oh my- Oh my god, Doctor Reid, I am so so sorry,” you scrambled, immediately grabbing tissues as he jumped up from the desk. 
“Please let me help you, god, I'm so stupid, I'm so sorry-” you said, patting away as his lap as he stood frozen in front of you. You dropped to your knees to mop up the traces of coffee still running down his thighs, as he stammered. 
“Y/N, please, you don't need to, I have a spare pair I can-” 
“I'll have them dry cleaned, I promise,” you begged, just as a knock sounded and the door to his office swung back open for JJ to enter through. 
“Spencer, the files for the- woah! Okay, I'm not jumping to conclusions, but I'm still backing out of this room right now.” 
She laughed her way out of the room, which was when your brain finally caught up to your hands and realized the stupid position you'd put yourself in. 
You'd practically pushed your boss up against the wall, kneeled before him, and begged to touch him. 
You'd squeaked out an apology and quickly left the office, much to Spencer's relief, because even after an ice bath and semi-public humiliation, he was hard and horny and his IQ had been knocked to roughly 7. 
How he'd wanted to keep you pinned in place, to stroke your cheek as he made sure you took each inch of him down your throat slowly, filling you up so you couldn't escape. 
How he'd wanted to keep his job as well, something he'd probably not get to do if JJ had decided to walk back in, or - god forbid - bring other witnesses to his debauchery. 
You were clumsy, and he was desperately horny, and you were both complete and total messes.
“I don't see how I can help you, Y/N,” Tara held up her hands in defeat as you begged for her help. 
“I'm competent with a gun, but it's not something I can teach you. I wouldn't know where to start.” 
“I just need someone to show me how to hold it properly. There's a trick to it, right? There has to be a trick to it?” 
“Ah yes, the old aim and shoot trick, I forgot about that one,” Rossi laughed, shaking his head at your office antics. 
You'd been interning for a few weeks, and the latest in a line of ability tests was shooting. You'd pretty much aced the physical fitness test, but you'd never even held a gun before joining the FBI, and you were struggling. 
“I've put in 10 hours at the shooting range in the last week, and the closest I've got to an accurate shot was hitting the next lane's paper. Don't ask.”
Your coworkers shared a sympathetic look as you sat down at the round table, ready to hear the next case details. 
“I'm relegated to office work until I pass this certificate, and I was not made for sitting at a desk for 7 hours.” 
“Well, why don't you ask Reid for help?” JJ said helpfully, bringing her coffee to her lips to hide the meddling smile plastered there. 
“Reid?” 
“He had some issues shooting when he was a rookie as well, but he put in some hours at the range, and now he's the best shot on the team.” 
“Easy there, blondie, I'm nothing to sniff at with a gun myself,” Rossi smiled, patting himself on the back. 
“I'm sure he'd enjoy helping you,” JJ continued. 
“Who would enjoy what?” Spencer said, finally joining the team in the meeting room and pulling out the case files as everyone opened up their tablets. 
“Y/N was just saying she's having some trouble shooting, and I suggested she ask for your help?” 
He froze momentarily and stared down at you as you looked up at him, hopefully, a shy smile on your face. 
He tried to keep his eyes on yours, but from this height, he had the perfect view down your shirt, your perfect-sized breasts pressing together as you leaned towards him, giving him a generous eyeful. 
He looked away quickly and nodded his agreement, sitting himself down and attaching his eyes to the files instead so he could get his mind off of  your body, and your lips, and the begging that surely would've come out of your mouth had he not accepted earlier. His brain was tormenting him with images of you underneath him, under his desk even, his cock in your mouth as you paid for his precious time training you. He blinked away the thoughts and, for once in his life, actually had to put effort into reading and understanding each word on a page as he ignored the raging fire of his lust. 
A few hours later, the two of you were at the shooting range. 
“My main problem is shooting. The instructors said my form isn't great either and that I looked like a child playing with toys whenever I hold a gun, so if you could help with that…?” You said, putting on the goggles and turning back to look at your boss. 
“Doctor Reid?” You asked. 
“Oh, yeah. Yes, they said something similar when I was training. First, let's see what you can do.” 
You smiled at him as he watched you bounce up to the lane and pick up the gun. You calmed your breathing and got ready to take the safety off when you felt a hard hand clamp over your own and pull the gun from your hand. 
“What are you doing?” He asked, staring down at you with wide eyes. 
“You said to show you-”
“You're not wearing a vest.” 
You cursed quickly as he pulled you back over to the side of the room. The place was practically deserted, as it was past the official closing hours of the range, but Spencer had been forced to pull some strings with his new title and had managed to keep it open (and somehow unmanned) until now. 
He quickly grabbed the first vest he saw and pulled it over your head, taking the side straps and tightening them until the vest was comfortably protecting all your major organs. His hands lingered for a second, and you stared shocked up at him, somehow enjoying the way he pushed you around. 
You were a grown woman, and you could do this all by yourself, but there was something about a man roughly a decade and a half older than you controlling your movements that were entirely too dangerous. You quickly stepped away and back to the podium, whispering a quick thanks under your breath as you tried to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. 
You stretched out your neck a little as you felt him walk back behind you again, keeping his distance as he watched you shoot your first clip at the targets. 
Out of six bullets, you'd missed the target five times and had grazed just below the targets arm once, a brilliant display of your natural lack of talent. 
“Your form is wrong. You're holding yourself too rigid, which means the recoil has a higher chance to hurt you. Loosen your arms slightly.”
His advice was actually good  and you followed his instructions closely, listening clearly as he walked you through each tip. 
“Like this?” 
“A little more… here, let me.” 
You had no chance to react before his body was pressed behind yours and his hands were wrapped around your own, moving g each finger by a fraction to improve your grip, trailing up your arms slowly, leaving a field of goosebumps wherever his fingers grazed. He repositioned your elbows before moving forward his hands down to your hips, turning them slightly as he widened your stance. 
“Try now.” 
Breathless, you could only nod as he stepped back, unaware if he'd even said anything since his hands had landed on you. 
You forced yourself to breathe again and took one shot.
"Oh my god, it hit. Spencer, it hit!” 
“Do it again and we can celebrate.” 
Another five shots later, and you'd managed a small cluster of hits around the arms and one shot. 
“You're definitely veering left, so let's try and over correct by aiming to the right.”
He pushed up against you again and held the gun, moving it to the right a fraction, taking complete control of your body. 
If your breath was scarce before, it was totally gone now as you felt his crotch press up against your ass. Considering the bulletproof vests put an extra inch around your chests, he was absolutely doing it on purpose, and you were shocked to realize you were too. 
You'd pushed your ass back into him, grinding slowly on his hardening cock as he hooked his head over your shoulder, looked down the sight with you, and fired the gun. 
Straight into the center of the target. 
“Good girl,” he whispered before pulling away.  
He moved two meters away from you, and maintained the distance for the rest of the night, and even though you were both aware of his hard cock tightening his pants, neither of you said a word. 
“Same time tomorrow,” he said and grabbed his jacket to leave. It was the first thing he'd said as your Unit Chief that even vaguely sounded like a command and not an enthusiastic suggestion, and you were suddenly very excited for the rest of the week. 
“Before we start,” he said the next day, unbuttoning his shirt sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows neatly. “Show me your posture again.” 
He gestured towards one of the dummy guns at the side of the range, the style you recognised from mission training that held small layers instead of bullets - same weight, same mechanism, no lethality. 
You'd spent the day and night worked up from the last time you'd been here with him, and a small part of you felt disappointed you were starting with the kiddy gun. Not one to miss an opportunity, though. You bent over to pick it up, making sure to bend at the waist right in front of him to show off your ass. 
Maybe you'd gone crazy, but the memory of his touch was burning you from the inside out and you needed to feel it again to make sure you weren't crazy. 
He maintained his distance, though. It was hard for him to keep his hands off you in all honesty, arms crossed to keep himself from crossing any more lines. That and he was sure that you'd be able to tell he'd spurted cum all over them in his office the night before despite him scrubbing them thoroughly multiple times, the weight of his guilt eating into him like a parasite.
“Arms up, point straight. Good.” You tried to keep still as he assessed your form, but his eyes prowled over you thoroughly, and you had to suppress a shudder. 
“You need to control your breathing, Y/N, you can't be afraid of pulling the trigger if you need to.” 
“I'm not-” 
“Shoulders back,” he said, moving to your side as he again began slightly correcting your form. 
Unlike the day before, though, this time, there were no bullets. And no bullets meant no bulletproof vest. 
That's why when his exploring hands came to your chest, he could feel your hardening nipples through the flimsy material of your dress. He could feel you pressing forward into his touch as his hands cupped your breast.
“Calm your heartbeat, Y/N. You need to stay calm so you can shoot straight, right?” 
The words sounded alien, even to him. His gaze was locked on the top of your shirt, looking down it to the slope of your chest, disappearing into your dress. He so wanted to let his hands disappear right along with them, to pull you back into his aching cock and play with your nipples until you cried out for mercy. 
He let his touch fall and played off his molestation as correction, even as your underwear grew slick with desire. 
“Grab your vest. Let's try again.” 
A week of late night training later, and you weren't sure if you were improving at all. The guns were the last thing on your mind when Spencer's hands were on you, his voice in your ear telling you how good you were for him, such a good subordinate. 
Both of you had yet to acknowledge that you were spending the majority of the session just rubbing up on each other, like teens at prom, desperate for whatever friction you could get without having to name the game you were playing. 
“Doctor Reid, if I hit the target this time, can you do something for me?” You chanced on the Friday, needing something else to tide you over for the weekend. 
“What do you need?” 
“No, no, nothing specific, just like a…a reward?"
He'd done his best to keep his hands off of you, which meant that he'd failed miserably, and he knew exactly what he'd like to treat you to as a reward. Keeping his hands of you in daytime hours had become harder and harder as the week flew by, and he felt like a randy school boy the amount of times he'd needed to excuse himself to either kill his bones or abuse his cock with his hand.
“Oh,” he said, growing quiet. You took his hesitation for rejection, and immediately began to back pedal. 
“Y-You don't have to, sir. It was really quite conceited on my part to demand a reward from y-” 
“Okay.” 
“Okay?” 
“If you shoot six bullets that hit either the chest or the head, you'll get a reward.”
You smiled brightly at him, suddenly feeling very hopeful. 
“But if you miss, you'll get the opposite.” 
The words were out of his mouth before he could even think about what they meant. Just hearing the words made him want to visibly cringe and write himself up for office misconduct. But your smile didn't fade one bit. 
“Yes, sir. I won't let you down.” 
Turning away from him, you loaded your weapon again, and he watched you put yourself into the correct position. Despite his middling efforts to actually teach you, you had seemed to have improved over the last few days. 
He wasn't sure if he wanted that outcome. 
Just as you stepped up to take your first shot, he stepped closer to you, wrapped his hands around your waist, and pushed up against you. 
Your first shot veered left, completely missing the target as you gasped. Spencer had popped open the front button of your pants and was unzipping them, letting his hand wonder down to your panties. 
“Look straight. There will be distractions out in the field, you can do this, right?” 
“Y-Yes, sir.” 
“Good girl.” 
You tried to steady your breathing g and your hands again as he began rubbing slow circles into your underwear, your body alight with lust as you let him. 
Your second shot hit the paper. Your third didn't. 
“You can do better than that, Y/N.” 
You took another deep breath and picked up your gun again, shooting just as he shoved your underwear to one side and dipped his fingers into you. 
Your mouth opened in a silent moan as you quickly shot your last three bullets, not caring where they went so much as where his fingers went. 
“Y/N, I expected better,” you could hear the smile in his voice as he took the gun from your hands with his spare. “You can't even handle a weapon like this.” 
He kept his fingers pumping shallowly inside you, as he inspected the gun again. 
“Maybe you'd learn better under duress. I did, too. It's easy to learn when there's a gun pointed yo your head, right?” 
He quickly turned the gun on you  pushing it to your temple as his other hand shoved your pants down. He angled you forward with a press of his hips as his fingers returned to your cunt and slipped deeper inside. 
“S-Spencer, fuck-” 
“You missed all six bullets, so punishment it is.” His fingers gained speed as you stood, flushed and spreading your legs for him. You wanted to bury your head in your arms and scream out your moans, but the gun to your head kept you quiet and in place. 
“You may not be able to shoot a gun, Y/N, but that doesn't mean you're not enjoying them. You're so wet for me.” 
Tears sprung to your eyes as you felt your climax build and build, chasing the high you'd been searching for with every unprotected touch. 
You were letting your boss touch you, letting a man almost old enough to be your father hold a gun to your head, and you were going to squirt all over his fingers very soon. 
“Spencer, Spencer, please- please….”
“Shhh, it’s okay. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You just needed some more help learning. You can cum now, princess. It's okay, let go.” 
You tried your best to hold back, but your body had a mind of its own as your orgasm hit you, the cold metal of the gun finally moving away from your head. 
With one hand around your waist, pinning you to the side so you stayed upright, Spencer carefully placed the gun back down before dragging your pants back up your legs. 
Taking your elbow in his hand, he walked you to the door as you blinked out the daze in your eyes. 
“We're going to my office now. To talk about your recent performance.” 
You couldn't have cared less what he'd said as long as his hands were on you, stretching your head back so it rested on his chest and pushing up until your lips could connect with the bare skin at his neck. 
“Hands off. We're going to walk all the way back to my office, and you're not going to let anyone know what just happened, okay? Not with your words, or your expressions or body language, okay?” 
You nodded, but he kept a hand on your elbow, gesturing yourself forward. 
You weren't sure how you were even able to walk after what had to have been the most intense orgasm of your life, but the promise of more likely carried you all the way up the stairs until you were comfortably enclosed in Spencer's  office. 
Like he'd found himself doing multiple times a day this month, Spencer closed the blinds, pulling you down to the sofa with him as he sat. 
“When I was your age,” he started, making sure your ass was facing up as he pushed your head into the cushions gently. 
“When I was your age, I couldn't shoot well. My Unit Chief had to kick some sense into me. I think you need that as well, right, Y/N? You need someone to beat some sense into you?” 
You nodded as he stroked your hair, and he thanked you for being so open to him. 
He made quick work of your pants and underwear, and in a quick hot burst, his hand came down on your ass. 
“Fuck, more. Please more!” 
He did it again and again as you squirmed in his lap and moaned, begging him to keep brutalizing you. 
“That's it, show me how pathetic you are, show me how much you're craving my attention.” 
He pushed your legs off of his lap until you were kneeling on the floor underneath him. He pulled up your arms and pulled your shirt over your head, similarly discarding your tank top and bra until you were totally bare on the floor in front of him. 
Instead of stripping himself yet, he pulled out his phone, palming himself through his pants. 
“Show yourself off,” he said, pointing the camera at you. 
You followed his directions quickly, hands flying to your tits to fondle them while he took pictures of your fucked our face. 
With his foot he gently nudged you down onto all yours, letting you know to turn around so he could flash a picture or two of your sloppy cunt as well. 
Your hips rocked back and forth in the air, unconsciously searching for something to rub against, some relief from your frustrations. 
He kept snapping pictures. 
Deciding that you needed his attention and stat, you let your chest fall to the floor, face flat too as your hips lifted higher in the air. Your hands found your ass cheeks, and you spread them slightly, giving Spencer an even better view of how much you needed him. 
He took one last photo, and then he knelt behind you faster than you could expect. 
In a heartbeat, his pants were down, in two his cock was buried deep inside of you. 
“So…tight, shit. You're such a precious little slut, you kept this little pussy nice and fresh just for me, right?” 
It was all you could do not to cum right there, and when he started moving you were a goner. It had always been easier for you to cum a second time than it was for you to cum a first time, and considering how quick he'd made it happen earlier, you really should've been expecting it. 
Your body convulsed around his cock as you screamed into the floor, hands still spreading yourself wide for him as he rutted into you. 
“That's it, milk my cock, Y/N. Milk your bosses cock, let me blow my load inside you.” 
Your nipples rubbed painfully against the carpet, only adding to the storm of stimulation you were experiencing. 
His hips faltered as he collapsed over your body, holding tight as his muscles locked him into place with his orgasm. He came inside you with a grunt, and he felt your cunt still clenching around him, making sure to take every last drop. 
“That- was much - preferable,” you said, gasping for breath. “To shooting - any gun.” 
He rolled off of you as you laughed, body satiated now for the first time in what felt like forever. 
“You still need to work on your gun skills,” he said after you'd detangled yourself, but before either if you had worked up the courage to leave the floor and get dressed. 
“Why?” You said, turning your head to look at him  lying on the floor next to you. 
“It seems I can fire pretty accurately already,” you said, as your hand snaked down to his cock one more time. 
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inkskinned · 9 months ago
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most writing advice is good as long as you know why it is good, at which point it is also bad. the hardest thing (and most precious thing) about being an artist is that you gotta learn how to take critique. i don't mean "just shut up and accept that people hate your work," i mean you need to learn what the critique is saying and then figure out if it actually helps.
i usually tell people reading my work: "i'm collecting data, so everything is useful." i ask them where they put the book down, even though it's too long for most people to read in 1 sitting. i ask them what they thought of certain characters. i let them tell me it was really good but i like it more when they look a little stunned and say i forgot i was reading your book, which means they forgot i exist, which is very good news.
sometimes people i didn't ask will read my work and tell me i don't like it. and that is okay, you don't have to like it. but i look at the thing that they don't like and try to figure out if i care. i don't like that you don't capitalize. this one is common, and i have already thought about it. i do not care, it's because of chronic pain and frankly i like the little shape of small letters. you use teeth and ribs in all your work. actually that is very true. i don't know what's up with that. next time i will work to figure out a different word, thank you. you're whiny, go outside. someone said that to me recently and it made me laugh. i am on the whine-about-it website as an internet poet. you are in my native habitat, watching me perform a natural enrichment behavior. but i like the dip of whiny, how the word itself does "whine" (up/down, the sound out your nose on the y), but i don't know if i want to feel whiny. maybe next time i will work on it being melancholy, like what you would call a male writer's poetry.
repeated "good" advice clangs in a bell and doesn't hold a real shape, dilutes in the water. like sometimes you will hear "don't use said." you turn that around in your head and it bounces off the edges of your brain like it is a dvd screensaver. it isn't bad advice, but it feels wrong somehow, like saying easy choices are illegal! sometimes i will only use "said." sometimes i will just kick dialogue tags out to the trash. sometimes i make little love poems where the fact that i do not say "said" is very bad, and makes you feel bad in your body, because someone didn't say something. i am a contrary little shitbird, i guess.
but it is also good advice, actually. it is trying to say that "said" sometimes is clutter. it makes new writers think about the very-small words and very-small choices, because actually your work matters and wordchoice matters. "i know," you said. "i know," you sighed. "i know." we both know but neither of us use a dialogue tag, because we are in a contemporary lit piece.
it is too-small to say don't use said. but it is a big command, so it gets your attention. what are you relying on? what easy choices do you make? when you edit, do you choose the same thing? can you make a different choice? sometimes we need the blankness of said, how it slides into the background. sometimes we don't.
i usually say best advice is to read, but i also mean read books you don't like, because that will make you angry enough to write your own book. i also mean read good books, which will break your heart and remind you that you are a very small person and your voice is a seashell. i also mean you need to eat books because reading a book is a writer's version of studying.
my creative writing teacher in the 7th grade had a big red list of no! words and on it was SUNSET. RAZORS. LOVE. GALAXY. DEATH. BLOOD. PAIN. I liked that razor and love were tucked next to each other like birds, and found it funny that he believed we were too young to know the weight of razor in the context of pain. i hated him and his Grateful Dead belt, where the colored teddy bears held up his appraisal of us. i hated his no list. it is very good/bad advice. i wasn't old enough yet to know that when you are writing about death you are also writing about sunsets and when you write about love you are tucking yourself into a napkin that never stops folding.
back then my poetry was all bloody, dripped with agony when you picked it up. i didn't know there is nothing beautiful about a razor, nothing exciting about pain. i just understood sharpness, which he took to mean i understood nothing. i wrote the razor down and it wasn't easy, but it was necessary. that's what i'm saying - sometimes it's good advice, because it's not always necessary. and sometimes it is very bad advice, because writing about it is lifesaving.
hang on my dog was just having a nightmare. i heard that it is a rule not to write about dogs - in my creative writing mfa, my teacher rolled her eyes and said everyone writes a dead dog. the literature streets are littered in canine bodies. i watched the rise and fall of his ribs (there is that word again) and had to reach out and stop the bad dream. when he woke up he didn't recognize me, and he was afraid.
it is good/bad advice to say that poems and writing have to mean something. it is bad/good advice to say they're big feelings in small packages. it is better advice to say that when my dog saw where he was, he relaxed immediately, rubbed his face against me. someone on instagram would make fun of that moment by writing their "internet poetry" as a sentence that tumbles across a white page: outside it is sunset and my dog is still in a gutter, bleeding a galaxy out of his left paw. or maybe it would be: i woke the dog up/the dog forgot i loved him/and i saw the shape of a senseless/and impossible pain.
the dog is alive in this one, and he is happy. when i tell you i love you, i know what i said. write what you need to write, be gentle to yourself about it. the advice is only as good as far as it helps. the rest is just fencing. take stock of the boundaries, and then break them. there's always somewhere else you could be growing.
i love you, keep going.
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salfishermustdie · 7 months ago
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sal fisher headcanons
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i've literally never been so horrendously down bad for a character before.. so i HAD to share my head canons for sal :3
CW: NSFW AHEAD!!
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fluff <3
♡ he would try to teach you guitar, even if you arent very good at it...
♡ if you have sh scars, he'd kiss them over and over and over again, no matter where they are
♡ blushes over everything you do, any little touch you give him, he gets flustered over
♡ "ummmmm... uhh- i- well.. umm"
♡ he loves giving you things. for whatever reason, he's always gifting you small trinkets to show his love for you. his favorite excuse for buying you something is "it reminded me of you!"
♡ not the kinda guy who goes for looks. no matter how 'ugly' you think you are, he'll wholeheartedly see you as the most beautiful person in the world.
♡ with that being said.. he'd definitely stop in his tracks if he saw a cutie :3
♡ (IT'S YOU, YOU'RE THE CUTIE. EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU IS HIS TYPE. GOD, HOW ARE YOU SO PERFECT FOR HIM??)
♡ if you ever mention something in a conversation (a band you like, a cool movie you just watched or a book you read, etc.) he's definitely going home and learning all he can about it.
♡ wholesome romance like those in the romcom movies
♡ "i love everybody because i love you" /ref /ly
♡ would totally let you paint his nails, do his hair, anything like that. he loves when you make him feel pretty <3
♡ doesn't want anyone to know this, but he loves wearing your clothes. like, you know the whole "wearing you bf's jacket/hoodie" thing? that's what he wants, but with your clothes.
♡ obviously he won't deny you his hoodie, but deep down he's waiting for you to give him yours
♡ LOVES giving long, deep, passionate hugs. hugs and cuddle sessions that can go on for an hour. he loves squeezing you against him, it makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside; being so close to someone he loves so much
♡ he WILL sniff you. he can't get enough of your scent. at first he was scared you would think it was weird, but now he does it freely. he's a very sensual person, and because of his disability (possibly impaired sight?), he often relies on his other senses to soak up every little piece of you.
♡ he loves wrapping you in his arms, cradling and comforting you if he knows you need it.
♡ he's excellent at reading you. he feels like he knows you best. despite being someone who can't really show his emotions through his expressions, he's amazing at reading yours.
♡ you don't even have to tell him anythings wrong. he knows when you need a hug.
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nsfw :3
♡ definitely has a mommy kink. argue with the wall.
♡ it just slipped out one day.. you were riding him, making him feel good and warm, and all of a sudden he let out a small "m-mommy..!"
♡ that being said, he LOVES having you on top of him
♡ while you're straddling him, he grabs you by your hips to make sure you're not going anywhere
♡ very shy + whimpering mess
♡ the kind to not know where to put his hands
♡ that doesn't mean he sometimes doesn't have a dom side to him...
♡ he's definitely a giver. he prioritizes your pleasure before his own
♡ he's insecure about his ability to turn you on, make you cum, etc. he always tries his hardest to make you feel good, and lets just say it always works :3
♡ jerks off to the thought of you more than he would like to admit
♡ has a VERY vivid imagination.
♡ oh god the things he thinks about doing to you are almost to embarrassing for him to admit
♡ very sweet and loving the whole time. he's huge on praise, and would rather die than ever make you uncomfortable. your sessions are filled with millions of
"are you liking that?" "you're doing so good for me." "are you okay with this?" "you feel amazing (y/n)"
♡ he needs 100% confirmation on your dirty suggestions. you could make a hint, but won't act on it until he's absolutely sure you mean it (obviously you always do, but god is this boy insecure.)
♡ doesn't seem like it, but will fuck you like a rabbit. it's always the quiet, sweet boys who are the dirtiest behind closed doors :3
♡ likes being bitten. idk. idc. IDGAF.
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lilithandherharlots · 1 year ago
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Too shy to tell you
miguel o’hara x fem!reader
Miguel hides your heals in hopes of making you forget you ever owned a pair...he confesses about his theft during a hot and heavy night of sex.
Warnings: This might be interpreted as possessive or an unhealthy bond. Though its supposed to be just a very shy and respectful Miguel who let's loose during sex.:]
Authors note: I am not a writer!! This is my first time righting fanfic.. like.. ever!!! So don't attack me. Though honest, constructive criticism is something that I would love to hear. Sorry if there are spelling mistakes. Also, I don't know how to put proper description..... enjoy!!!!
:::
"Miggy?" I call out to my boyfriend who's currently towering over the coffee machine, waiting for it to brew.
"Yes, my love?" He responds with a look over his shoulder.
"Have you seen my black pointed heals? I can't seem to find them."
"No. Have you checked by the door?" He was lying.
He was lying. He was lying, and he didn't feel bad about it. The truth was he had stuffed them in the highest cupboard of the laundry room. He knew you couldn't reach it. He liked it that way. He couldn't let you open it since he had stuffed at least 4 pairs of heals in there.
"No miggy, they aren't here." You say after checking everywhere by the front door.
"Idk what to say, baby... we have to leave soon. Just throw on a different pair and I'll buy you some new ones later."
He was a liar... and he was damn good at it... until he wasn't.
:::
It was 2am. This insanity started hours ago, but Miguel's stamina wouldn't let down. Your soft moans could fuel him till sun rise, and he would love to do this forever. But unlike him, you have limits. Limits to your ability to stay strong, or at least keep yourself up right. But he doesn't really care. Your begs for a break won't succeed with a constantly starving man like him.
"One more round, please baby... please. I need you." His desperate begs caress your tear stained cheeks as he whispers them softly, leaning over you and filling you with sloppy thrust.
"Miguel- please.. It's too much.." You whine as you try to pull away, gripping desperately onto the sheets.
"Last one.... I promise..." he lies.
He said the same thing the last 4 rounds. If he could have it his way he'd continue. But he knew you couldn't keep going for much longer, so he used this opportunity to tell you what he couldn't bring himself to say otherwise.
"I lied..." he confesses. Watching your tits bounce with every rough trust, keeping himself busy while you tried to form a reply. It took you a while, but you managed to let out a soft hum, waiting for him to explain himself further.
"I took them. Your heels.. I fucking hate those things.." he thrust get faster as he says it. Hoping to make your brain foggy enough to not remember his confessions in the morning.
"I like your height, so why do you wear those weird things?" His heart felt lighter as he told you.
"I like that your height forces you to get on your tippy toes every time you want a kiss from me.. and even then, I have to bend over to reach you.... I like that you rely on me to reach those high shelves. Every time you ask me, you grow as red as a rose...."
You can feel his movements speed up. You can barely hear him... your mind fuzzy from pleasure. Lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin felt like white noise at this point. The dim shadow of his frame covering you completely.
"You're so small under me.. your body falls any way I bend it..." At his point, he was just speaking the first thing to cross his mind.
You didn't hear him, and he knew it. Seconds later, you feel his weight shift, the mattress by your head sinking under his heavy hand as he leaned in and whispered.
"Please don't take that away from me."
His words were demanding. He felt exactly what he said. Even though your eyes were shut tight, you knew his eyes were locked on you. His breath heavy, as if he just confessed a dirty secret. He kinda did...
"Promise me.... Promise me you won't wear them and I'll help you cum."
As tired as you were. You wanted it. You needed it. You needed him. So you give in.
"F-fine... I promise."
"You promise what?" He smirked hearing your whiney voice.
"I promise I won't wear the heels!!"
The pleasure he got from you saying that was immense. He shifted his weight once more as he changed your position like a marionette doll. Spreading your legs apart. His hands wrapped around your thighs, and his claws dug into your skin. The stinging pain of it was a wake-up call, causing you to gasp for air.
This position caused him to go deeper. The sticky mess from your previous rounds was being pushed out of your aching hole. The sound of his hips hitting your ass grew louder with every precise thrust. They got louder and louder until they stopped. Your thighs had clenched closed as you hit that high you were chasing. And you took him with you. Tightening around his pulsing cock in a way that made him fill you to the brim once more.
He watched your body shake. Your hips jerking forward. He would usually take that as his sign to keep going, but your fucked out face was telling him you couldn't take another thrust.
"You did great my love..... my little angel~" He cooed gentle praises as he rubbed your claw marked thighs.
"I'll buy you the cutest flats."
:::
A thing he didn't know.. is that you lied, too. His secret cupboard was emptied, and your heal collection was restored... and yes.. he pouted in silence.
The end
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depresseddepot · 2 years ago
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rewatching my mister. park dong hoon investigating his wife's affair and becoming more and more panicked and confused is so hard to watch
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kannouo · 22 days ago
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I'm so lucky, lucky!
fandom: obey me pairing: demon brothers x gn!reader warnings: none prompt by @ember-is-clueless: Can I request the brothers with an extremely lucky MC? The MC might not go to gamble a lot but when they do they win every time, it also strays off to other aspects like if they guess which answer is right on a test, they get it correct. Thank you <3 A/N: ty for the request <333 I hope this is okay. this idea was pretty fun to think about actually as there are a lot of scenarios that could happen surrounding this. i also went super far with just how lucky the mc is lol, just letting you know i basically went the superpower route.
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LUCIFER
• Lucifer notices how lucky you are very early on during your stay at the Devildom.
• You were somehow always in exactly the right place at the right time to avoid his and his brothers' wrath. When demons at RAD would make any attempt to harm you, you would just happen to run into him or even Diavolo himself before they could do anything. In fact, even when you went against his orders and went out late alone, you would always come back unscathed.
• Lucifer doesn't believe in luck, and therefore isn't comfortable relying on chance alone to keep you out of danger. It might save him a headache or two, but overall, he won't loosen up his overprotective tendencies. What if the one time he puts his faith in your luck to protect you, something goes wrong?
• He realises later on that your luck comes into play with him too. Whenever you're caught alongside the anti-Lucifer squad — if he ever even manages to catch you in the first place — he always just happens to be in a merciful mood that day, so the punishments you all receive are comparatively light.
• He is trying to work on this. He can't have anyone thinking he's gone soft.
• Is admittedly impressed by your ability to pass any test by guessing the answers, but cannot support you getting by on just that. He will still enforce studying time for you and insists you actually make an effort with your schoolwork, even if you don't think it's necessary.
• Lucifer is not amused when his brothers start trying to drag you everywhere with them to use your luck to their advantage, and encourages you not to let them do so. Even if you don't mind it, nothing good comes from them getting their way all of the time.
You were really in trouble this time. Caught trying to give a cup of coffee laced with one of Satan's newest concoctions to Lucifer, it seemed lady luck was absent today. You knelt before him with your head lowered as he glared down at you, but just as he opened his mouth to begin his lecture... CRASH! You jumped at the loud sound of glass shattering in the hallway, followed by a yelp that sounded suspiciously like Mammon. You turned to Lucifer, who had directed his attention to the door, where the sound came from. "MAAAMMOOOOON?" As Lucifer stormed over to the door and out into the hallway, you lived to thank your lucky charms another day.
MAMMON
• Mammon noticed you were lucky pretty quickly, but it took him a while to realise just how lucky.
• He'd make jokes about how lucky you seemed to get all the time for going out at just the right time to always conveniently avoid Lucifer's wrath, but he only took it seriously when he challenged you to a game of poker and lost all of his savings, as well as the jacket and belt he was wearing at the time. He was stunned.
• Mammon might have a reputation for losing all of his money on gambling, but that doesn't mean he's bad at it. He just suffers from the same habit a lot of gambling addicts do — he can't stop. He wins and wins until he loses. So, now knowing you're even luckier than he is...
• How do you feel about being a walking lucky charm?
• He'll take you with him to casinos as "arm candy" and have you blow on his dice before he makes a move, or even just play the round in his place and split the winnings. You don't even have to know the game, just go with your gut and you'll end up winning by complete chance.
• Another thing he likes to do is walk up to random demons and make a bet such as, "do you think this human here can flip a coin that'll land on heads 10 times in a row?" It being a statistical unlikelihood, the demon will usually allow Mammon to take one of their pennies (so they know it's not a fake) and bet against it. They never bet that much grimm on it, but the shocked look on the demons' faces every time as you just keep landing on heads is completely worth it.
• Lucifer isn't happy about any of this.
• Don't worry though. Outside of making bets surrounding you and dragging you to casinos with him, he's practically your personal servant. He has to butter you up so you don't refuse next time, you know? So, he waits on hand and foot for you all day. Practically worships you.
"MC! MC, babe!" You peeked over the couch as you heard Mammon shouting your name from the hall. Just as he passed by the living room, he caught sight of you and broke into a grin, hurrying over and leaning over the back of the sofa. "There ya are! C'mere, take a look..." You shuffled closer so you could get a view of what he was holding. "...Lottery tickets?" You questioned, glancing up at him. "Yeah! I just bought 'em— will you scratch 'em out for me, baby? Please?" He begged. "I'll do anythin' ya want!"
LEVIATHAN
• Levi takes a while to find out about this ability because of how much time he spends in his room. There are very little opportunities for your luck to come into play there... except for in video games.
• The first time you demolished him in a game you told him you had never played before by pure chance, he demanded rematch after rematch until he solemnly concluded that it wasn't going anywhere. You were pretty sure he hated you for it, judging by his refusal to talk to you or message you afterwards, until he invited you back to his room again, this time to play a co-op game together.
• Predictably, he's jealous of your luck. How come you don't even have to try, and all these good things just seem to come to you naturally? It's not fair.
• He mostly gets over any petty resentment he holds after you two start to get closer, and actually really enjoys games where he can team up with you. He's pretty bad at explaining controls, but it doesn't even matter because you always end up with the luckiest possible circumstances. You contribute even when you aren't trying to.
• Thinks it's hilarious a lot of the time, too. If he's in a voice chat lobby he'll start mocking the other players for losing so badly against a total noob. He's surprisingly toxic.
• One time, Levi had to leave his room because Diavolo had arranged a student council meeting on the day where a special, limited-edition figurine of one of his favourite shows was dropping. He damn near had to be dragged away from his computer by Lucifer, and was sulking the whole meeting. Why today of all days...?
• But you just so happened to pull out your DDD and open Akuzon at the exact moment the figurine dropped. Blissfully unaware, you ordered it, thinking nothing more of it other than "Levi will probably like this".
• He was devastated when the figurine was already sold out by the time he got home, but when it showed up at the door anyway, he couldn't decide between being ecstatic and confused. Was this some kind of miracle?!
• When you explained that you had ordered it for him, he literally drops to his knees and starts thanking and praising you.
• Joins Mammon as your second personal servant.
"LOLOLOL, I thought you losers said you were good at this game!" Levi taunted into his headset, provoking the other players in the lobby to talk back, hurling all kinds of insults his and your way in response. "How much of a normie do you have to be to lose that bad against a total noob?" "Levi," you hit his shoulder. "Stop it." Levi looked at you then paused, a sly smile forming on his face as he listened to the other players yell. "They're saying I carried." You furrowed your brow. "Like hell you did! Oh, it's on."
SATAN
• Also doesn't really believe in luck, but his opinion can be changed if you allow him to experiment with it a little.
• Here's a pop quiz about various subjects in the Devildom you should, by all sound logic, know nothing about. Let's see how you perform when all you can do is guess. Huh... they're all correct. Alright then — could you crack this egg for him? Just a regular egg, and he'll see... its a triple yolk. Well... for the final test, here's a random lottery ticket. You couldn't possibly—... did you just hit a jackpot? Seriously?
• After a while of "observing" your unnatural abilities, he is eventually forced to conclude that lady luck really does exist, and she plays favourites.
• Your luck definitely comes in handy, and he will use it to his advantage, mainly to gain the upper-hand in pranking Lucifer. As long as you're around or are the one performing it, it's far more likely for their pranks to succeed. And if they get caught, the punishments are always far less severe, so they can get back to finding new ways to inconvenience Lucifer as fast as possible.
• He also likes bringing you with him to bookstores, because whenever you wander around or randomly pick out a book, it always happens to be some kind of rare edition or cursed book that is... for some reason in a public bookstore. And it's not like the curse will hurt you either. No, you're just too lucky for that.
• Sort of develops a more laid-back attitude to what you do overtime, unlike Lucifer. Satan has full faith in your luck, and doesn't tend to worry much about your safety. That isn't to say he doesn't care, more like he believes fate itself will always keep you safe.
• Also, whenever he takes you to cat cafes or areas popular with stray cats, they always surround you and jump up onto your lap. Even the feistiest of cats are calm enough to be pet by you. He loves this, and tries to take you with him every time he goes out somewhere like that.
"Pspspspsps..." "Oh, that's Paprika. She doesn't have an owner and is scared of people, so she won't—" Satan's sentence was cut short by the usually shy and aggressive kitty jumping up into your lap. She 'mrrp'ed as you pet and cooed at her, and it took you a moment to notice the utter silence from the man next to you. "Satan? What's wrong?" He blinked and gazed lovingly at you, completely starry-eyed. "I love you so much."
ASMODEUS
• He knew you were lucky right off the bat. I mean, you had to be with looks like yours. You basically won the genetic lottery!
• Obviously, your abilities go far beyond just good looks. But he honestly doesn't care as much as his brothers do about all of that. He's much more focused on how you are absolutely slaying every single outfit you try on! No matter how hideous a combination is, you always make it look good... How?!
• I would say he's jealous, but that would be a lie. He's still hotter, obviously... but you're close second! Well, no, you're not that close behind, but still!
• If there's anything he is jealous of, it's your lack of bedhead. He's drawing a line, it's completely unfair for you to wake up looking perfect every morning.
• If Asmo were to ever use your luck to his advantage, it would be to score his most desired modelling shoots. Just having you near him makes scouts more likely to approach him, and having you in a picture makes it go instantly viral. You're his lucky charm for stuff like that.
• Doesn't approve of his brothers stealing you away for all kinds of shenanigans though. Mostly because it's taking your attention away from where it should be, on him. He may not take advantage of your luck as frequently as the others, but if that's what it takes to have you all to himself, he might start to!
• Designs a cute little four-leaf clover accessory for you to wear, like a bracelet or a hairclip.
"MC, honey!~" Asmo came running into your room, a big smile on his face. Before you could even speak, he latched his arms around you in a bone-crushing hug, kissing all over your face. "Thank you so much for getting me that photoshoot~ it was amazing!" Confused, you wriggled around for a bit of freedom, and he loosened his grip on you. "I didn't get you anything?" "Of course you did, sweetheart! It's all thanks to you I was lucky enough to come across an opportunity like that~ so, how about a special reward for my favourite lucky charm, hm?~"
BEELZEBUB
• Beel is unlikely to notice unless your luck is pointed out to him. Not because he's stupid or doesn't pay attention to you, but because he just doesn't think in that way. He'll notice when things seem to conveniently always go your way, but he doesn't piece all of those events together and come to the conclusion that you have absurd luck on his own.
• It's only when one of his brothers comment on it that the puzzle pieces all connect and he's like "ooooh." His only real reaction beyond that is a shrug. He frankly doesn't care that much.
• He notices that whenever he takes you out to eat, he always ends up with extra food on his plate that he didn't ask for. He notices that there always happen to be extra replacements for any ingredients he eats when he's on dinner duty, as long as you're in the house. He notices how some vendors are more willing to give him samples on-the-house when you're by his side. It's just not the main reason why he wants you around all the time.
• He loves you because of how unique you are and because of how much you've helped his family. Your luck is convenient, yes, but he doesn't go out of his way to use it for himself. The last thing he wants is for you to think he's using you.
• ...He might ask you to help him sneak food into places though.
• Beel is also unlikely to put much faith in your luck to keep you safe. He knows you've managed to evade danger in the past, but he'd much rather protect you himself so he can be sure.
• Even though he doesn't use your luck to his advantage, he'll ask a lot of questions about what you've been able to do with it in the past. He might ask you to try out a few things solely for experimental purposes, but it's usually just to see how far-reaching your luck actually is. Treats it like a superpower, which it kind of is.
• Such as: what if someone tells you to cook a meal you've never heard of without a recipe? If you just try random stuff, will you end up with a good meal anyway? You tried that one out — the answer was, somehow, yes.
You felt a rough tap on your shoulder. Turning, you were met with Beel, looking very guilty and with a bag full of snacks. "Can you hide these in your coat?" He asked. "Beel, we're at a movie theatre..." You spoke with a hushed voice, looking around warily. "We can just buy popcorn." "I know, but... just popcorn isn't enough." He looked at you with such sad eyes that you couldn't help but give in. You took the bag from him, tucking it under your arm, and he lit up. "Thank you, MC."
BELPHEGOR
• Sure, he noticed, but was pretty sure he wouldn't care about it at all. He sleeps through most days anyway, so...
• He was totally wrong, though. He remembers waking up next to you one morning, cuddled snugly into your chest and arms lazily draped over you from the night before. Groaning, he turned and looked over at his bedside clock... 12:00, it read. He blinked. Had he slept through the beginning of RAD? Without Lucifer or Beel coming to wake him? Seemed unlikely...
• It was only when he checked his DDD that he saw a few messages in the House of Lamentation group chat of Lucifer informing everyone that there had been some sort of mishap with a potion, so RAD's halls were closed off for the day, and perhaps tomorrow. How lucky, he thought. He gets to spend all day in bed with... MC.
• Anyway, he tries to sleep in your bed literally every night from then on, because whenever he does there always seems to be some kind of event that causes RAD to be cancelled or delayed.
• Lucifer bans him from doing this after realising it. He can't just have the entire school year amount to nothing because classes kept getting cancelled, after all. Belphie was not happy about this at all.
• Even when staying overnight with MC is banned, he'll still find ways to use their luck to his convenience. When he naps on them or near them, he's far less likely to be disturbed from his sleep. There's also the bonus of MC helping him and Satan get away with their pranks on Lucifer more often.
• That's what he gets for revoking Belphie's sleepover privileges.
• Your luck sometimes backfires on him, though. Whenever he tries to pull a prank on you, it always goes horribly wrong. To be fair, he probably should have predicted that outcome.
"Belphie... wake up..." You spoke softly into Belphie's ear and he twitched in his sleep. All it took was a few more gentle shakes and he finally stirred, looking at you with sleepy eyes. "Come on, it's time to get up." "What?" He huffed and rested his head back down on top of you. "RAD's cancelled... I don't need to get up..." "It—" You paused and blinked down at the avatar of Sloth. True, it was cancelled for the day, but that announcement was only made about thirty minutes ago. Belphie had been sound asleep. "—How did you know it was cancelled?" The only response you got was a smirk and a knowing look before he went right back to sleep.
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