TRAINING WHEELS. Logan Howlett / Dom! Top! M. Reader

drabble about fucking logan (wolverine) because @embry-garrick implanted it into my brain

synopsis: holy shit u have a big dick n logan is having a field day

cw: riding, size kink, pain kink, reader has a huge dick, anal sex, no prep by choice, unsubstantial lube by choice, unprotected sex by choice, subtop logan dombot reader, established relationship, first time (in the relationship), 2nd person

dni minors, fems/mlm fetishizers, etc

You knew you were massive, that's why way back in high school you were pressured to join sports. You had admirers from both sexes and people would jump at the opportunity to date you in hope that you were as big down there as you were, body wise.

You were, and unfortunately scared off many potential fuck buddies with your size. You vividly remember an ex walking out mid make-out session when they saw your dick, and the situation you were in now was strikingly similar.

That train of thought was bouncing through your head like a pinball machine as you multitasked getting hot and heavy with Logan on the foot of his bed.

"You're distracted. Come on, focus, it's like kissing a brick wall," Logan complained gruffly, hands tangled in your hair as he bit playfully at your jawline to snap you out of whatever thoughts you were in.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry. Maybe we're going a little fast?" you suggested, meeting his lips again as you attempted to focus on him.

"You're fuckin' kidding me. No, we've been dating for months, I'm ready," Logan disagreed. "You got something you're worried about?"

"No," you muttered, shaking your head to get the thoughts out. You steeled yourself to focus and gripped Logan's waist to pick him up and move him into your lap. He eagerly ground down onto your quickly hardening cock, groaning into your mouth as he felt the pants you were in tighten.

Logan quickly took off his own shirt and hurried to remove yours. Once the clothing was gone, he abandoned kissing your lips to kiss your neck and moved down your collar. He sighed and his eyes fluttered closed as he felt both of your hands snake in two different directions; one down to squeeze his ass and the other up to grip his hair.

"Need you. Been waiting long enough, want you in me. Wanna ride you," he whispered into your ear.

"Logan, I'm big," you warned warily, earning a confused pause.

"Big? Damn right you are. What's your point?" he grumbled, trying to get back to imminently fucking.

"My dick is big. I've had people up and leave because of it, so—"

"Well aren't you self-assured? Babe, let me judge if I want to get fucked or not," Logan answered playfully as he pressed tender kisses over your jawline to make up for the bites. "C'mon. You think I'm shy of a big dick?"

As you tugged off his pants, he undid your button to reciprocate and froze as he stared at your half-hard cock straining the fabric of your boxers.

"What's that, six inches? I mean, I can take it," he huffed, his face a mask of bravado. He pulled your pants all the way off and swallowed. "Okay... little more than six inches..."

Logan stroked you to hardness, muttering out quiet curses and "come on, come on... fuck," as he was eager to feel you. You were completely hard in just a few strokes, but his rough hand and the lack of any lubricant made you shy from the touch.

"Logan? Lube?" You reminded, to which he growled.

"Don't need it, bub."

"Yes you do! At the very least, I need it!" You protested.

"Relax," he rolled his eyes and attempted to take you in his mouth, but instead just let some spit dribble down since he'd ravish you with his mouth later. "Happy?"

"Let me prep you."

"Hell no."

Logan pushed your shoulders to the bed and hovered over you, to which you fished in your pants for a condom. "No condom, Lo,"

"Good."

"Go get one."

"Hell no," he repeated.

"You're gonna tear yourself," you said, sitting up.

"I can take it. I can take you. Just lay down," Logan demanded, to which you scoffed.

"Fine. It's not my bed that's getting blood all over, anyways."

Logan perched over you and lined your dick up, hissing as the wet head grazed his hole. "You're gonna be the end of me..."

"Fuck... fuck! Slower!" You demanded, worrying for Logan's poor body despite the fact that he healed instantaneously.

Among the shrill gasps and low groans, Logan uttered out a gravelly, "Please, just let me have this. You're splitting me in half, fuck, [Y/n], you're gonna make me cum like a virgin."

You grabbed Logan's hips and forced him to slow down, he was barely even a third of the way down and already tears were collecting in his eyes. "Easy, Logan," you said, but he suddenly grabbed your wrists and forced himself down to the base of your cock, a punched-out moan escaping his throat followed by a series of whimpers and gasps as he caught his breath. A hot stream of cum spurted from his unattended cock and onto your chest.

"Logan? You're bleeding. And you came..."

"I don't care. Fuck me like a man," Logan rasped out as he steeled himself to begin moving his hips.

Bongos (but male) | Logan Howlett X [Dilf] Reader

What Logan wouldn't give to have that damn DILF bent over...

  Quick Notes :  Thank you to our savior @/dorkszn for their glorious Dilf! Reader drabbles! The idea of a Dilf! Reader came directly from their posts, so be sure to give them a follow! Obviously this work is in no way related to their own, and is my own version of Logan and a Dilf! Reader. Please enjoy.

  Story Details :  1,300 words, Dilf! Reader referred to as ‘You/Your,’ Reader has twins, Readers children are animal mutants (bear), Readers children are named ‘Jett’ and ‘Hogan,’ Reader is divorced, Reader is about forty to forty-five, Reader is lightly implied to be a mutant, Reader is described as ‘having stubble,’ Logan is whipped for Reader, Logan ogles reader, and finally, sexual implications in almost everything Logan thinks

 Though, even he could admit a few of the kids stood out; there was a little red-head, about eight or so, whose mutation was a pair of wings (though they had only started growing in a few years earlier), and a teenage boy who frequently turned invisible to get away with stealing cigarettes (he never did, and Logan was the one to drag him to the professor's office). 

Despite working at the school for a few months, Logan was not fond of children. They were loud, frequently interrupted his smoke breaks, and often had mutations that they had little to no control over. In short, it was his personal hell. He only took the job because Chuck had asked him, and as much as he hated to admit it, he owed the man something (even if this job made him want to rip his hair out). 

  A gruff sigh left the older mutant, who fiddled with the cigar between his teeth as he leaned back against the wall of the hallway. It was getting dark, most students in their rooms and preparing for bed. Except, Logan could smell a few brats out and about, their scent making his nose twitch in disgust; they smelled like shit - like mud and the forest.

  His gaze was drawn towards the end of the hall by the sound of giggles - clearly children - and the sound of a heavy sigh soon following. Before Logan could push off to investigate, he blinked in surprise when the source of the noise rounded the corner.

  A man - a man he’d never seen but immediately needed to get to know - was carrying two children, one under each arm; You. At the sight of him, you gave him a tired grin, the crows feet on your eyes crinkling as he felt his heart thump against his chest. The mutant didn’t care if he was staring - you were downright sexy. You wore a shirt with the sleeves up past your elbows and a set of slacks that seemed to accentuate every part of your frame. What Logan wouldn’t give to see you bent over a-

  “Nice night, ain’t it?” You called out, shaking Logan from his thoughts as he took an inhale from his cigar to clear his mind.

  “Could be better,”

  He retorted, his eyes drifting to the two squirming mutants in your arms. They looked like you to a tea, their eyes the same color as yours with a nose to match - the only part that was different were the set of rounded ears on the brats heads. Logan guessed bear, but cat might have been it, too. Both the kids groaned, wriggling around as one tried to hit your side,

  “Papa, ‘s not fair!” one whined, making your gaze turn downwards as you arched a brow, “Yeah, papa! You never let us out into the trees!” The other added quickly.

  Instead of replying right away, Logan watched as you hoisted the two higher into the air and did a small spin, making their complaining turn to squeals of laughter.

  “You two can’t go outside without me because you roll in the mud,” You stated lightheartedly, coming to a stop as you affectionately glared at the two children in your arms.

  He shifted his focus to the two mutants, raising an eyebrow as he finally noticed the clumps of mud, dirt, and leaves that clung to the two - definitely bear, then. It was then that Logan took a more obvious look at your face, his cigar sitting in his mouth for a moment as he analyzed every little detail; you had stubble, as though you hadn’t shaved in a few days, and eyes that held a clear fondness for the two kids in your arms. His eyes moved downward, glancing at your visible forearms - hairy, but not too much so, with some muscle obvious. Fuck, you were his type. 

 “You know where I can find a hose? Or a bathtub?”

  Your voice pulled him out of his ogling, his gaze returning to your face as he grunted, pulling the cigar out of his mouth and exhaling a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling.

  “Med bay has bathtubs, should work for the… mud,” 

  Logan knew how he came across - mean, gruff, an asshole - but you didn’t seem to pick up on it, simply giving him that same tired smile before nodding and glancing down at your kids.

  “Alright, med bay it is! Come on, twerps, bath then bed; I’ve got to get all this mud out of your hair and fur,” 

The sound of your chuckle, gruff with age, made a shiver run down the older mutants’ spine. 

  “You guys new here?” He found himself asking out of curiosity, leaning against the wall again as his eyes raked over your form, “Haven’t seen your kids in any of my classes.”

  You paused, shifting the two mutants under your arms before holding them up one at a time, 

  “This is Hogan.” You raised the child in your right arm, “and this is Jett,” you raised the child in your left arm.

  Both children groaned at being named, beginning to squirm once more as they let out soft bear vocalizations - Logan filed that under something he hadn’t expected, but wasn’t surprised by.

  “Cute kids,” he stated, taking a long drag of his cigar before his gaze dropped to your legs.

  He could’ve sworn he saw one of your pant legs moved at his complement, but he brushed the thought aside as his own imagination, slowly trailing his eyes back up to your face. If you noticed, you didn’t call him out on his staring, instead focusing your attention on your mutant bear cubs with a fond huff,

  “Thank you, really. I got custody after their mother divorced me.” You stated it so bluntly that it made Logan nearly drop his cigar, though he quickly recomposed himself as you continued, “They’re my little bear cubs, all fuzzy and cute.”

  He watched as you cooed down at your children, a slight smirk tugging at his lips; you loved them, that much was clear.

  “Are they the ones who’ve been raiding the school's fridge at night?” 

  He asked jokingly, watching as your expression turned sheepish.

  “That… Is likely my boys, yes,” You said after a moment, adjusting the two bear mutants in your arms before sighing and shaking your head, “They eat like crazy. It’s hard to keep them full without handing them a snack every thirty minutes.”

  Hogan seemed insulted at your words, his expression turning into a fierce pout as he crossed his arms and sulked,

  “Papa not feed us! We need more food!” Jett immediately knew what his twin was doing and copied the boys’ pose, “Yeah! More food! More food!”

  The two bear mutants descended into a chant of ‘more food,’ causing an amused smile to cross your face - Logan wanted to see more than just that. He wondered what you’d look like blushing…

  “Well, we can have a snack after you two take a bath,” 

You said fondly, rolling your eyes as you began to walk down the hall towards the med bay. Before you walked too far, however, Logan watched as you turned around,

  “Got a name, stranger?” 

  He blinked, his mouth suddenly dry as he focused entirely on your, ahem, assets, which looked downright amazing in those tight slacks. Pulling his gaze away, he grunted, taking a pull from his cigar to try and clear the thoughts running through his mind.

  “Logan; Logan Howlett,” 

  He answered gruffly, finally returning his eyes to you as he caught the friendly smile you sent his way.

  “Nice to meet you, Howlett. I figure we’ll be seeing you around,”

  With that, you turned and continued towards the med bay, adjusting and joking with the two pouting bear cubs in your arms.

  In that moment, Logan realized he wanted you right fucking now. Multiple times, in his bed preferably, with you calling out his name as he-

 A gruff and irritated sigh pulled itself free, the mutant glancing down before he adjusted himself and began to walk towards his room. He needed a shower. A cold one.

LOGAN, LAURA, AND WADE CONTENT AHHH

Reblog if you've ever cried over the death of a fictional character

Logan when the fanboys call him or Wade straight 🤨

This is money cat. He only appears every 1,383,986,917,198,001 posts. If you repost this in 30 seconds he will bring u good wealth and fortune.

I’ve got a request my dear! Can you please do bottom Nanami who just had rough day and finally gets the chance to relax and be a pillow princess.

Love you dear!

Good Boys Deserve Good Things

𓇼 🌊 🐚 -Nanami Kento x Dom! Male Reader

𓇼 🌊 🐚-Cw: Overstimulation, dacryphilia, praise, Some sir and daddy kink, like one spank and manhandling (readers a strong boy 💪🏽)

It really didn’t take anyone special to tell how hard Nanami Kento worked. From a busy salaryman who hated his job to a sorcerer who still couldn’t stand the business, just had less of a hatred towards it. That was life though, grinding through shit you hate. It was worth it he believed, eventually retiring to Malaysia with his sweetheart was worth any challenge.

It would be awhile until that point though. For now he was a slave to the workforce. Nanami was returning back from home after a long day as usual. He looked over to see the kitchen was clean and some delicious looking cuisine in a container. Must’ve been your cooking.

He kicked off his dress goes and took his suit coat off before trudging upstairs. A few annoying comments from Gojo always got him exhausted and annoyed. He entered the room to see you relaxing on the bed lazily scrolling through you’re phone. You glanced up to see your husband with an annoyed expression on his face.

You couldn’t help but smile at his annoyed and flustered look. You could tell he was aggravated, not at you of course. “Hey there handsome, work got you down?” You smiled teasingly. Nanami Kento was no submissive man by any standards. A wise and reserved man which could be seen by anyone. Though, sometimes a man needed a break.

He got on his knees crawling over to your side of the bed as your large hand cupped his cheek. “Please sir….” He pleaded. The alias rolling off his tongue sounding like sweet honey in your ears. “Please what handsome?” You inquired with a knowing eyebrow.

“Please, fuck me…” He spoke softly, cheeks flushed with a pretty pastel dusted across them. You couldn’t help the mean grin that graced your lips. “Was that so hard baby? So hard asking you’re husband to make you forget about every little thing?” He shook his head no.

~🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

“Shit! You’re squeezing me so much handsome..” You lick your lips panting as you gripped his hips from the back pulling him into you. Kento had his face buried in the pillow as he moaned and cried. Pretty hazel eyes red from crying so much.

“S’ too much- can’t take it! Can’t take it! Mercy~!” You smiled softly at his pleas giving a small slap to his plump ass. “Shhh, know you can take it… because you’re a good boy right? Good boys deserve good things right?♡” You didn’t really expect an answer but you were pleased when you heard a whine. “Yes- I deserve this…”

You nodded in agreement. “You do, so stop thinking and let me take care of you okay baby?” You cooed softly at him as you gripped his sweaty locks. You gently ran you’re fingers through them before tugging to get him to arch. His face was pulled off the pillow leaving his mouth open to let the groans and moans escape.

He had no idea how many times he’d cum already. All he knew is that he’d been manipulated into position after position by you. Pretty head blank from everything except you’re dick in his ass abusing his prostate with each Plap! Plap! Plap! You gave so graciously to him.

You felt the telltale signs of his impending orgasm as he constricted tighter around you. You lifted you’re leg to plant beside his torso and adjusted you’re hands to his broad and muscular shoulders to pull him back into you. You leaned your weight over him making your dick hit even deeper from the forced arch. You smiled softly as you heard him cry out, hands reaching up to the drool covered, sweaty pillow to try and pull himself away from the burning pleasure.

“Nope, don’t run away from this dick baby…” You grinned as you pulled him right back to you’re pelvis. “Shhhh, shhhh, let daddy hear you scream for him m’kay???” You asked, but he knew it was a demand. The coil in his stomach stretched to its limits, face dripping with sweat, toes curling and eyes rolling back.

He peered up at you from wet lashes, a pleading look on his face. You smiled at his manners. “You know you don’t have to ask to cum…. Nut on daddy’s cock…” you gave a final sturdy thrust and his orgasm came crashing down like a wave on the coast. He gave a final drawn out groan mixed with a gasp as thick, ivory rivulets spilled from his shaft.

You came just in time with him as you filled him to the brim with your own release. You sighed in relief as you rubbed small shapes in his hips to ground him. After a few moments he felt you pull out and quickly flip him over before climbing back atop. You lined yourself up once more with his entrance as he let out a whimper from feeling you invade once more.

“You’re still coherent prince… can’t have that can we…? My sweet pillow prince needs to have his pretty head drained isn’t that right?” You asked with a slight mocking tone as he nodded. His legs raised as he wrapped them around your torso, burying his tear soaked face into your shoulder. You smiled brushing a small start tear from his cheek.

You kissed his temple before gently thrusting. “Just a little more for me baby… just let go of all those inhibitions hmmm?” You asked in sickly sweet tone. And who was he to deny or say no when you asked like that?

A/N: It is so nice to be back and writing for JJK! Thanks so much for the request Jason, I missed all you sm! Things have just been busy. Anyways, keep requesting! Im on a writing kick. :)

Blue Moon

Summary: A series of occasions when the JJK sorcerers required your comforting embrace ...

(x Reader)

Featuring: Gojo, Kusakabe, Nanami and Ijichi.

Genre: Fluff, romance, humour.

CW: Suggestive language.

Gojo

"On a scale of 10 to 11, how blue do my eyes look this morning?"

"Satoru, what do you want?"

One arm raised, elbow crooked in nonchalant allure against the doorframe, Satoru blinks in feigned innocence. He shifts such that the torso-hugging shirt he has on slides against each defined line of his pectorals.

"I just wanna know. It's nice to hear how handsome I am, from time to time."

"Seriously?"

He cradles his chin between thumb and forefinger.

"I mean, my jawline alone can cut diamonds - "

"Come here."

He grins, having conveyed his message clearly, if a tad ham-handedly. Elbow dropping from the doorframe, he steps into the bedroom, his tall frame stooping until his nose is level with yours.

If you intended to initiate anything at all, you can shelve that idea. Satoru's arms are already sliding around your waist, drawing you impossibly close. His face drops to your shoulder, blowing a playful puff of air against you before he presses into the crook of your neck.

He feels solid in your arms, present. A cloud of pale hair, silky and fragrant, drifts across your vision. The scent of him is warm, vital, alive. You trace gently across the contours of his back before your embrace finally encloses him, feeling his exhale blow heatedly against your skin.

These are the rare occasions when he seeks you out for reassurance under the guise of mischievous ribbing, when he grounds himself in the staid, reliable nature of your presence, when he needs you.

Slowly parting from him, you glance up at the slightly muted brilliance of his glance, the softness that hovers at the edges of that almost ethereal countenance.

"Ready for work?"

"I am now."

You pat him solidly in the middle of his chest, resting your palm there for a minute before pushing him towards the door. The residual humidity of his breath lingers on your throat.

"Now hurry up and go, before I get sliced with that lethal jawline."

Kusakabe

"And then I said, why the heck can't we just take the safe route, not track through the fucking woods in pitch darkness, with a hurricane lamp that could attract every goddamn curse in the region - "

Atsuya cuts off, the scrape of the blade through the lather on his chin punctuating each point he deemed significant.

" - but of course, they didn't wanna hear it. "That's what sorcerers do, they take the dark path." Ha. They can take that poetic allegory shit and shove it."

You complete the task of drying yourself, fingers tracing lightly over the muscled wall of his back as you pass him, reaching for the hairdryer plugged into the wall just outside.

"Were there any injuries?"

"Miwa got a few scratches, but nothing serious."

He rinses off the blade, white foam circling around the drain of the sink before raising his arm again, skin appearing through the curtain of white on the sharp edges of his cheek.

"I told those kids before, you can't rely on anyone else. In a sticky situation, you gotta analyse the environment, know your opponent, observe their abilities, think and act at the same time - "

The noise of the hairdryer temporarily drowns out his voice, and he turns slightly as he sees your smile. You reach for him with your free arm, hair blowing across your face, and he grunts in amusement.

"I've still got shaving cream all over - "

"And when has that ever stopped you?"

No further convincing is needed because Atsuya's bare chest is now against your back, his arms coming up and around your middle, strong fingers linking securely over your abdomen. The coarse scattering of hair across his torso tickles between your shoulder blades. The heat of him is intoxicating, as always.

You squirm slightly in his grasp as the cool shaving cream smears across your shoulder, where he rests his chin, the dim light of the bathroom temporarily shading the green of his eyes to a subtle olive. Prickles of stubble, tender as the new growth of shoots in spring, sink into your still-damp skin.

You turn off the hairdryer, for now. You can't help yourself when your Atsuya is this close, the clean, warm scent of him wrapping around you, infinitely soft. You press your lips in a trail across his cheek, watching as his eyes close, as the rigidity of his powerful shoulders ease under your ministrations.

Drawing away, you see his eyes flick sideways at you, and you can feel the laugh that reverberates like low thunder through his chest. Your face is smeared with white.

"If you wanted to shave too, you should have just said so."

"What if I said I borrowed one of your shaving blades for my legs?"

"No wonder they're so silky smooth."

"Not as smooth as that tongue of yours."

"And you're the first person who's ever thought so."

Nanami

Kento had been pristine, as always, when he'd left home. You'd seen his clothes prepared the previous day, the suit and shirt hung neatly against the closet, socks laid aside, shoes polished to high shine.

You'd watched him comb back his hair that morning, your fingers gently caressing his undercut as you'd made your way to the kitchen to deal with breakfast. You'd watched the small smile curve the corner of his mouth as he'd fastened his watch in place.

Orderly and somewhat fastidious, was your Kento, punctual to a fault, even in the way he kissed you at exactly 8 am at the door, the Jujutsu Tech vehicle waiting outside to swallow him into its cool, dim interior.

His lips had lingered softly on yours, as always, stealing moments from the impatient clock on the wall behind you. You'd straightened his tie, one palm smoothing the slightly hollowed cheek (which had filled out a little recently with your cooking) and then you'd stepped back and treasured the softening of his eyes before the glasses were placed firmly on the bridge of his nose.

So, it was with a sense of growing concern that you watched the same clock that had governed your separation that morning. He was three hours late, and counting. He'd managed to send a brief message earlier that day, that things were gearing up to be a little troublesome. Still, you worried.

You always had.

At 10 pm, the sound of the key slotting into the latch heralds his return. Kento pushes the door open, a heavy sigh reaching your ears as you approach.

He is no longer pristine.

His hair hangs down to his eyes, greasy and disshevelled, the tie nowhere to be seen. His shirt is stained and crusted with darker patches under the arms and across his chest and back. His pants are ripped and you see the bandages beneath where he must have received treatment already. His tired eyes meet yours, and you hold out your arms to him. A soft laugh sounds against the noise of the pot bubbling on the stove.

"I'm filthy. And covered in - "

"Do you see me complaining? No more questions, love."

He grumbles good naturedly, but you know that he not-so-secretly loves it when you take charge at home.

In one stride, he is within the welcoming bracket of your arms, head drooping tiredly against the softness of your chest. He is tall enough that the position is slightly awkward, but he has anchored himself to you for support, and you brace your knees as you take his weight.

He smells of sweat, dirt and something damp and unpleasant that reminds you distinctly of a sewer. You smile and bury your nose into his hair, the unique, masculine scent of him, of Kento, now cutting through the other distractions.

You hold him like this, cradling his head close, whispering soft endearments meant only for his ears, until the stretch in his spine wears him out. He rouses from your embrace, eyes puffy and a trifle unfocused. Long lashes brush slowly together and he yawns.

"Had a good rest there?"

His voice rumbles delightfully through your frame where you are still pressed together, mellow and slightly slurred within the familiarity of these walls.

"A most peaceful one."

You tap the area where his head had been a few moments ago.

"Would you like to rent this space out, sir? It's available, every evening after five."

There it is, that quiet, mischievous smile, the one that spreads tender crow's feet at the corners of his eyes.

"Only after I've inspected it thoroughly, ma'am."

Ijichi

You pause in the doorway. Kiyotaka is pacing the courtyard outside, phone balanced between shoulder and ear. He flips aggravatedly through the folder in his hands.

"Yes, yes, I understand - No - I will - Listen, please. Yes, company cars are expensive, I know better than anyone. However, forcing a trainee to shoulder the full burden of compensation just because he - "

He notices you, out of the corner of his eye. You wave to him and gesture to the files in your hand. He gives a harried nod before a frown marrs his brow.

"No, no, I don't think the fact that he saw a spirit and screamed like a little girl, as you put it, affects his level of accountability in any way. Our policy states that - "

In two quick paces, you reach him, snatching the phone out of his hand. Barking sharply at the person on the other end, you complete his statement.

"Our policy clearly indicates that trainees are exempt from damages incurred during any coursework. And that includes driving. Goodbye."

Ending the call, you huff out an annoyed breath before handing the phone gently back to him. He sighs and you see his glance hover sideways, alighting on the files you're holding. You dismiss his concerns with a wave of your hand.

"Oh, these can wait. Don't worry. How about we go in and have some coffee?"

"Actually ..."

"Yes?"

"I'dratherhaveahug."

"Pardon?"

"I'd ... rather have a hug."

"Oh!"

Your eyes widen slightly as you drop the files haphazardly on a nearby bench. Ijichi eyes them worriedly. 

"Wait, what if the wind - "

"Then we'll say Fushiguro's dogs ate them."

"Eh?"

You laugh at his bewildered expression before tugging lightly on his tie, drawing him close. A flush steals over his cheeks, as you lean in and brush your nose against his, fingers slipping from the tie to the surprisingly strong line of his shoulders.

"Here's the hug you ordered."

"W - Well, yes, but let's be - "

He cuts off as you wrap your arms tightly around his neck, one hand sliding stealthily under his coat to caress his back. You feel his Adam's apple bob as he returns the gesture, relaxing slightly into the embrace as his breathing evens out, stirring your hair slightly.

You both stay this way for some time, as the wind whistles in the corners between the statues all around you, mercifully leaving the files intact. You lean back and are about to release him when his hand clasps firmly on the small of your back, and he dips you, smiling as your delighted laugh echoes within the enclosed yard.

As he draws you back up into a brief kiss, you marvel at his sudden bravery. But then again, this is what you love most about Kiyotaka. As shy, anxious, stressed and fatigued as he is (mostly), there was a side to him that always warmed you pleasantly when your thoughts drifted to him.

He was the man who brought you regional treats from wherever his job happened to take him, who made sure that you were safe at all hours of the day, who would pursue you with an umbrella when you'd forgotten yours, who ensured that you'd eaten on time, even when he was swamped with work.

As you separate, you see that in spite of his daring, debeonair action, his ears have turned a startling shade of scarlet. You pinch one of them lightly and smirk.

"Looks like you've been eating spicy food again."

He clears his throat.

"The only spicy thing I've consumed is ... you."

Slapping a hand against your chest in feigned shock, you gasp theatrically.

"Why, Kiyotaka! How positively scandalous!"

A rare grin crosses his tired features.

"If you really want to see scandalous, you should have a look at Yaga's internet search history."

Tender Times

⚠18+ [Suggestive] Themes, [Frank Castle × Male Reader × Matt Murdock]

Minors, Ageless/Blank Blogs DNI

﹂Contains: Requested*, polygamous/throuple, two subs one top, domestic life, mentions of blood, fluff with a dash of spice

First thing in the morning a freshly brewed cup of coffee to jumpstart the day, followed by a pair of arms circling him from behind.

Matt's taken to getting up a few minutes earlier to spend them with you. Most of the times being when he ends up crashing at your place rather than his, he sometimes tends to oversleep after his nightly escapades.

Some nights he doesn't get much sleep with how you keep him up. He can still feel the lingering touches on his skin— the smell of you surrounding him, driving him crazy with desire.

If he didn't need to work today, he's sure he would have already dragged you back into bed. Let you have your way with him until all his senses were overwhelmed.

There's already a fresh set of clothes waiting for him, you help him get dressed— despite knowing he's fully capable. You just use it as an excuse to keep your hands on him for a few moments more before he has to head out for work.

"Want me to drop by for lunch?" Foggy and Kate have seen you before, though they're not entirely sure what your relationship with Matt is. They speculate that you're an old friend, one before his college days where he studied law with Foggy. It's not far off but there's more than meets the eye.

"We have a full schedule. So maybe dinner would be better?" He doesn't mind eating later than usual, as long as he gets to share a meal with you in the end. "Alright, go on and get to work then, Matty."

You obviously don't buy his whole blind act anymore since he's much too aware of his surroundings— that and you found out his little secret after a slip up. So you know more than you let on.

The side of his mouth lifts into a smile, "I'll be careful, don't worry." He steals a kiss, purposely missing your cheek and landing it on your lips.

You see him off with a small smile of your own, watching how his form blends into the bustle and hustle of the overcrowded city. It's not even half and hour before you hear a loud crash from the backdoor.

"Ah, look at you all bloody and bruised again, Frank." While it's become more often than usual, you don't turn him away or scold him too harshly. "It's not even Tuesday yet."

He doesn't even respond, just grunts and plops down onto a chair. His muscles are tense that much you can discern right away— other than the scattered scrapes and bruisings.

With a quiet sigh and a trip to the restroom for the kit, you place it down nearby and start working on his injuries. It's times likes these remind you of how vulnerable he truly is.

The subtle longing in his eyes as he leans into your hands as they disinfect a small cut on his cheek. Lips slightly parted when you ever-so-gently thumb his busted lip with a dollop of salve. He's gone soft on you. Hardly glares or bites at you for tending to him like this.

Once it's all said and done he looks up at you expectantly— lips quirked into a sly grin. Frank knows you're not going to chastise him like Matt does, he simply waits for his little reward as you lean down to kiss his wounded lips. However, it never comes which makes him frown.

Just as he was going to make a complaint there's a knock at the door— there goes his alone time with you.

As if.

His hand shoots out to grasp your wrist and tugs you down to him. "It's probably just the neighbor asking for sugar again," he mutters with a huff, face inches from your shoulder. "You're going to stay, right?" That sounded less like a question and more like a demand— a plea.

You keep him grounded, keep his ducks in a row so he doesn't go out and spill more blood. He is, still after all, a wanted man under the eyes of the law. It's your job now to stop him from getting into anymore problems.

And Frank knew you'd give in, the palms of your hands cradling his beaten face was conformation enough to know. Cheeky, you'd call him if he wasn't so coy.

Seems like you'll have to reschedule any errands you had planned. You're going to have your hands full keeping the Punisher entertained— and he's more than excited to have you all to himself.

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"Good morning, peanut~💛"