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alexiroflife · 3 months ago

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Hello! May I request an angsty toji fic where reader finds out she's pregnant (post megumi) and she knows toji doesn't want anymore children so she just kinda leaves with little to no explanation? Maybe just a small note saying things aren't working out. It's up to you if it will be a hurt/comfort. Idk you don't have to do this request I don't want to overload you! I seriously love your writing. The way you right the character just warms my heart. I especially love ur hiding an Injury fic it was SO SO SO GOOD. 🩶🤍🖤

“promise”

toji fushiguro x reader

Synopsis: see above

to sum it up: you think it’s better to run away than to be the one to get hurt

WC: 5,668

Warning(s): angst, suggestive themes, yelling, pregnancy, mentions of abortion

You stare down at the plastic tube clutched in your trembling hands in awe, eyes blown with shocked grief as you peer closer to get a better look, as though those two bright pink lines could have been a trick of your vision.

Unfortunately, however, your vision remains just as crystal clear as it always has been. As you stand in your cramped apartment bathroom, illuminated by a flickering fluorescent gaze shining down from above, horror befalls you.

You’re pregnant.

You should have known sooner when you began feeling queasy every morning, taking trips to either your or Toji’s toilet to hurl out the contents of whatever swam inside your stomach. You always tried to be silent if Toji was around, for he slept like a dog that could not be woken even if a meteor struck earth, and you had been remarkably exhausted. You aren’t even sure if there is a word to describe how sluggish your entire mind and body had been feeling, but you wanted to rule out the very obvious answer to your problems before exploring it.

You begin to panic, your heart pounding in your ears and throat and every inch of your body you could feel the pulse, eyes blurry over the positive test. You’re conflicted. You don’t know how to feel. On the one hand, you would have been jumping for joy to learn that you are starting a new life with your boyfriend, to step into a new chapter of your lives and to provide his children with another sibling.

But hell, the celebration is far too naive and implausible to be had. The sage eyed man has told you time and time again that he does not wish to have anymore kids, that the ones he has are enough and he is not equipped financially or mentally to care for another brat. In honor of those wishes, you’re on the pill, and consequently, Toji has taken the opportunity to plow his load inside of you time after time after time.

And you really, truly should have known that with Toji’s uniquely abled body, what was meant to serve as a barrier and a means of contraception did not work.

You feel like throwing up. What would Toji say? What would he do? What are you supposed to do? Should you tell him, fill him in on what’s going on to risk rejection and abandonment, a nasty habit that Toji had to work to rid himself of when he met you? Would he even care? Would he listen?

You know Toji to be a very tough man, despite the softened interior he attempts to hide in others’ company that is only displayed for you and for his kids. If he has always been adamant about one thing, it’s been to never have kids again, to focus on where he fucked up before and to pour his attention into the little family he’s grown, the one that he has now.

His voice echoes through your head like the gong of a church bell striking upon the ear’s of a sinner.

“Hell, I already got my hands full tryna get Megumi through his teenage years. What the hell is another child gonna do for us?”

“That shit’s fuckin’ expensive. Not to mention, I’d have to baby proof the house again. That’s another expense.”

“If I was capable of givin’ you y’er own, I would, doll. But I ain’t cut out for it. You know that.”

You don’t even know why he would stress the matter so often. You suppose he’s caught the way your eyes linger on a mother tossing their giggling baby up and down into the air, innocent pools of joy beaming down at her each time it reaches the air and lands in her secure hold. Or maybe he’s seen the way you care so deeply for Toji’s kids as though they are your own, despite telling you when you first got involved with each other that he did not expect you to step into their lives in anyway - and yet, you have done that and more. You know how the kids must struggle each day with the trauma of losing their mother so early on, and you never wanted them to think that you were trying to step in as her replacement, but you love them so clearly, as much as you love the man who created them.

Which leads you to your next concern. How would the kids react?

It’s one thing for you, as their father’s girlfriend, to wander into their lives and help navigate them their teenage hood alongside the dark haired man, but to introduce an entire other child only leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

They may be crushed. They me turn to hate you, to despise how you have contaminated the life they have worked so hard to rebuild after numerous tragedies. And would Toji agree with them? Would he turn his nose up to you, that scowl of his melting over his harsh features as he shuns you just as he shunned every other woman who came after his wife and before you. Would he leave you? Would he kick you out of the world that has become your own because you failed to live up to your promise, though it technically isn’t your fault that you are pregnant now but it feels as though it is?

You can not stand the thought, of the man you love turning his once loving gaze stone upon the sight of you, of him pushing you further away, permanently, in the same manner that he tried to when he realized that he was falling in love with you, of watching Megumi and Tsumiki turn their backs to you as though the past four years of your lives had never happened, banning you from their acceptance forever more.

Tears well in your gaze, interfering with your vision. This can not be happening, you think to yourself, everything has been going so well, and now this? This is going to ruin your relationship with Toji for good. Even if you were not in a committed relationship with him, you assume that the idea of any woman getting impregnated by Toji would have been thrown away. You would be thrown away, just like all the others who gave Toji their bodies but not their hearts.

Not the way you have.

Your heart clenches thinking of just how much you love Toji and the kids, of how you would be willing to lay down your own life for the sake of them as Toji swears that he would for you all in return. Even so, despite the commitment to you that a man who swore never to be committed to accustomed, this would be going too far.

…You’re not even sure if he would love you anymore.

Now that you’re pregnant with his child, a child he never meant to have with you, you assume you will mean nothing to him any longer. In his eyes, you will simply become the slut that he took a chance on by a whim, carrying something he would never call his own. You believe the old Toji will resurface, the one who claimed not to care, the one who shoved women out of his bedroom before the sun rose in the sky, the one who often failed to remember to pick his kids up from school, the one who would no longer meet you at eye level but look down upon you, frown upon you for being so clumsy.

You know Toji is the one who did this, but this still feels like it is your doing. Like somehow, you trapped him and he now has no choice but to break free from the steel cage you have barred around him with your conception.

Your fingers clutch over the plastic, your eyes scrunching closed to release a fresh set of tears that cascade over your cheeks and onto the test. You can feel yourself mourning your relationship already, you can feel it slipping through your fingers, see it fading in the distance until it becomes nothing but a bittersweet memory that you can not determine as reality or a figment of your imagination any longer.

You tilt your head, bringing the test to your forehead as you think, grieve, cry. You mull over your options; you could hide this from Toji, get an abortion and never think of it again or you could tell Toji and lose him forever.

You open your bleary eyes, lashes decked with dewy tears, as another idea dawns upon you. You could leave, leave before Toji and the kids have a chance to leave you.

It’s a cruel thought, you think, especially abandoning those children without any proper explanation for them, but what else are you meant to do? You’d be doing them all a favor if anything by taking your leave without them having to be plagued by the knowledge of your unplanned pregnancy, of what they may view as a scheme to destroy their family in your new baby’s wake.

The thought kills you to even entertain. You had promised those kids that you weren’t going anywhere, that you’d stay with them for as long as they allowed you… but this is different. This is not what any of you had in your cards, how you believed your futures to go. Toji wants simplicity at home while he works through chaos through his occupation. He wants security, warmth, safety for you, Megumi, Tsumiki, and no one else. He would never welcome another child. You believe he’d be caught dead before approving of your pregnancy.

And therefore, you know what you have to do.

After taking a few more tests to ensure that the readings are accurate, which they are, you pledge to walk away. You pledge to leave the only man you’ve ever truly loved, the strongest family you’ve known, and the slim possibility that despite Toji’s wishes, he may accept you.

But you don’t want to take that chance and risk the humiliation and unplanned heartbreak. You’d much rather take matters into your own hands, and plan the shattering of your soul yourself.

You don’t sleep all night, for you’re too busy drafting about twenty different letters to Toji. Crumpled loosleaf paper litters the floor beside your bed as you try to think of how to best write down everything you want to say. You go through pages and pages until you are finally satisfied with the result, and the next morning, you slip the envelope into his mail slot and prepare to pack your life away.

It is late Sunday morning when Toji rises from his slumber. The first thing he does is lean over the sheets and drape his arm toward his nightstand to read your daily good morning text - only he finds there isn’t one. With pinched brows, he takes his phone to unlock it and visit your contact. Nothing.

The time reads 12:35 pm. Normally, you’re up and at it or even banging down his door by then to wake him. Maybe you’re just sleeping in?

He goes to give your cell a call, but nothing. Not only that, but your phone is also on do not disturb mode. His gut immediately swells with the suspicion that something is wrong. The dark haired assassin supposes he’s going to pay you a visit this afternoon as soon as he checks on the kids to ensure that they are alright.

His bedroom door opens with a creak, and he calls out to the teens gruffly through a yawn. When they don’t respond, he’s truly growing concerned.

He rounds the corner to prepare to head for their rooms when he finds Tsumiki and Megumi at the dining table. His brows furrow, his pace slowing as he takes in their faces. Tsumiki’s lips are pressed together tightly and the muscles in her face are scrunched as though she is about to cry, while Megumi stares ahead with empty eyes and a hardened exterior.

Toji frowns with quirked brows, approaching his kids. “What’s wrong with you two?”

His brunette daughter looks up at him with glassy eyes and wrinkled chin, lashes fluttering while Megumi does not bother to look at his father. Instead, he brings Toji’s attention to a torn envelope and a thick packet of papers pressed beneath the sixteen year old’s palm. Wordlessly, Megumi slides it toward him, brows slanting.

Toji, perplexed, looks between the papers and his children’s troubled faces. What is this letter? Overdue taxes? An eviction notice? That can’t be possible, because you had ensured that Toji and the kids’ place was secure long ago.

He crunches the papers in his hands and picks them up to read. The first thing that catches his eye is your scribbling handwriting, and the following words that send his heart plummeting to his ass:

This isn’t working out.

Toji whips his head up, baffled, and when he meets Megumi’s gaze again, his eyes are ablaze with resentment.

“What the hell did you do?” he growls.

The green eyed man is not even thinking before he’s dialing Shiu’s number, asking him to watch the kids for the next hour or so, and running out of the apartment after throwing rather unconvincing words of assurance over his shoulder to his kids, who are still with disbelief - Tsumiki with devastation and Megumi with rage, for surely his father pushed you away.

Toji does not bother finding a ride, electing to run to your place which is only a few blocks away. You two were just discussing moving in with one another, combining households, and this is what you spring onto him? Not even for him to stumble across first, but his kids who look up to you and love you like their own mother?

Oh, he’s fuming, a rush of emotions taking over his mind as it fuels his speed. The letter you wrote is still crunched in his fist, whipping through the air as he makes his way to you.

Dear Toji,

This is not working out.

But before you rampage and get angry with me, please let me explain. Let me explain how much I love you, how much those kids mean to me, and how every day I wake up I want to be greeted by all of your smiling faces. For the rest of time, forever. You are undoubtedly the only man for me, and I truly believe that. I know you may think I’m bullshitting because of how the beginning of this letter contradicts what im saying now, but it’s true. I have never loved another person the way I love you, and while it scared me at first when you were so stubborn and full of anger that you misdirected onto me, I stayed and I waited and I helped you and I’ve loved you through every single moment, ever week, every month, and every year. You brought purpose back into my life, and I can picture you scoffing because you’d say the same, but I mean it. You, Tsumiki, and Megumi are the best things that have ever happened to me. I love you all so much.

But in this case, that love is not enough.

I hate to be doing this to you, to the kids, but I have no other choice. Things aren’t going the way they used to, and it’s not your fault but mine. I’m the reason. And it is tearing me apart to know that and simultaneously know what I have to do in order to keep you and the kids happy. Stable. I wish I could explain to you more why I am doing this, but I can’t. Not just because I am dying to picture you reading this, but because I truly can not say. I do not want to ruin you guys’ image of me. While I think that’s a selfish thing to say because who knows how me leaving is going to hurt you all, you would not understand even if you knew the reason behind this.

By the time you are done reading this, I will be gone. I’m going away because as long as I am not with you all, I can’t stay here anymore. I am staying with my mother while I get my travel plans arranged, because I know how you worry when you do not know where I am or if im safe. I should be gone by Friday.

Please do not come see me. I have made my decision, and you will only be hurting us more by trying to stop me. I won’t be stopped.

Kiss and hug and apologize to Megumi and Tsumiki for me. I hope you find someone who fills the role of their mother, someone who knows how Megumi likes to do his homework in the silence of his room with no music or anything, completely isolated so he can focus. Someone who knows how to fix Tsumiki’s eggs properly - to add extra butter to the sides when you fry them so the edges get crispier. Someone who won’t try to feed Gumi’a demidogs because he hates when people assume they can coddle up to them upon first introduction. Someone who cares for the wholly the way I do and always will.

And you. I know how stubborn you are. I know how angry you probably are at me right now, and I will miss that about you, but please do not let that interfere with the possibility of falling in love again. Beneath the layers of grit, standoffishness, and indifference, you are a man with a big heart. For me. For your kids. For those you love and seek to protect.

You say you aren’t a good man, and while that may be true to you, you are an amazing partner and you’ve already become an amazing parent. I’ve seen you grow, and I am so in love with you and so proud of you. I know you’ll be okay without me. It maybe take some time, but you’ll adjust to what’s best. I promise.

With all the love that could possibly be harbored in this world, you are everything to me and that is why I have to go. I wish you every happiness this planet can offer you, and I know that without me, you can begin to find joy again.

Love,

Your doll

You had believed to time this perfectly, for you know that Toji usually does not wake until one, so soon as you are finishing up packing, you are trudging down the stairs to the leasing office to inform them that you will be moving.

You push open the door to the first floor, the breeze hitting you gently, and you round the corner only to be blocked by the last person you wanted to run into during this time.

Your eyes widen as you look up, the burly figure you have grown oh so familiar with over the years heaving as though enraged, ivy eyes crowding over slim pupils as Toji glares down at you, an image of indescribable fury.

Your heart drops and your words die in your throat. “T-Toji?” you whisper, horrified of an outburst. You are rattled by fear, having been so unprepared to walk into this. You did not put it past him to chase you down. But you figured that you’d be at your parents by the time he woke. Then, you could have at least told them to tell him off at the door.

But no. Instead, here he is, six feet and then some of bulking mass as he takes quick, deep breaths that expand the entirety of his chest.

You shift. “What are you doing here-“

“What the fuck is this?”

Toji swiftly, yet aggressively, lifts the papers in his hands, now damaged by his travels and his grip, shaking it firmly with the question. You gulp, lowering your eyes.

“Toji, I told you not to come…”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he swears firmly, and you jump, looking to see if anyone is around to hear you, as the two of you are standing outside your complex.

“We shouldn’t be- let’s just go inside,” you go to grab his arm, but he tears it away. He stares at you as though you have burned him, singed the heart in his chest from the inside out, and he is so unforgiving. So unforgiving before he hears directly from your mouth what this is about.

“I’m not doin’ shit until you tell me what the fuck this is, (Y/n),” he demands, his hand moving the papers about passionately with his speech, and you feel your heart hammering again. This is not how things were supposed to go. You are not supposed to be seeing him right now. “Cause I refuse- I fuckin’ refuse to believe that you’re breaking up with me.”

Your eyes gloss over as you look down at your feet, unsure of what to do or how to handle this confrontation. You can’t do this. You can’t, it’s too much. It’s too hard.

“…I am,” you mumble.

Toji steps forward, leaning down to get a peek of your face, his expression so angry that it worries you. “What?”

“I said… I am.”

“Uh uh, you better say that shit with your chest if you can write a whole damn letter about it,” he growls, fucking further as you continue to turn away. “Look at me,” he barks, and you cringe.

“Toji, don’t yell at me!” you shout back.

“What else do’ya want me to do, huh?” he throws his hands up. “How else do you expect me to react to this bullshit?! You’re leavin’ me? After everythin’ we been through, after everythin’ you and the kids’ve been through, you’re leavin? Are you fuckin’ serious?”

He takes a swift glance at the papers, the very sight sending him into a spiral, before he’s heatedly looking back down at you.

“I don’t buy this shit for one second. No. You’re not leavin’. Not in this world, or the next.”

“I am, Toji, the quicker you accept that, the easier it’ll be for everyone!”

“Easy?” he winces as though the prospect pains him. “You call this shit easy? You call up and tryin’ to abandon me easy? You call the kids waking up to your letter and reading it at the table before I saw it easy?”

Your face falls. “…what?”

“Yeah. You fuckin’ heard me,” he sneers. “Megumi and Tsumiki read this shit first. First thing in the morning, they see a letter about how the woman they love is leavin’ ‘em, just like their mom did, and for what?”

You close your eyes, his words stinging you as they cut through. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true, ain’t it? Y’er leavin’ us, (Y/n), and you didn’t even have the decency to say why!”

Guilt crowds you, like a blanket of darkness consuming you from overhead, and as Toji stands before you completely torn apart by your letter, you see the fear in his eyes, the sadness, the unspoken plea for you not to go.

You try your best to keep your composure as you turn away again. “I told you, I can’t tell you.”

“Fuck that,” he lifts the letter and tosses it to the ground with a thud. You gasp, watching it slam to the concrete pavement.

“Toji!” you exclaim.

“You think you can just leave without me comin’ to hunt you down and see your face so I can figure out what the hell is goin’ on? You must not know me at all.”

“Why do you always have to be so aggressive about everything?!”

“Of all fuckin’ things, (Y/n), I think I got a right to be aggressive about this. You were gonna leave without sayin’ goodbye!” he tosses his arm out to the side with the exclamation, brows twisting and teeth bearing. “Is that what our relationship means t’ya? You think you can just toss us aside?”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” you beg, a lump forming in your throat as the two of you stand face to face, arguing without a car about who will see you.

“Then tell me,” he shouts. “Cause you’re not givin’ me shit to go off of!”

“I told you already, I can’t,” your lips quiver.

“Then our relationship is nothing to you.”

“No, Toji.”

“Clearly it ain’t, cause I’d think it’d be worth an explanation if you’re runnin’ away!” you frown and shake your head, turning to walk back into the complex when Toji cuts you off, moving in your way. “You don’t think I know you? You don’t think I see it all over your face that somethin’s got you scared, and y’re takin’ off because of it? You think I don’t know what that looks like, (Y/n)? I did that shit. I did it all the damn time before I met you, and hell, I tried to run then but you wouldn’t let me, so what the hell makes you think I’m gonna let you now?”

“This is different,” you say shortly, afraid to reveal the tremble of your voice to the man before you. You keep your gaze down as you try to go around him again, but to no avail. He steps in your path. “Stop!”

“I ain’t stoppin’,” he says gravely, keeping his eyes to yours though you try to avoid contact with them. “Not until you spit it out. I’ll be damned if I got another broken home cause y’re fuckin’ scared.”

“I said stop!” you try to find some bass in your voice, but against your will, it falters when you yell. Toji eyes you carefully, reaching his hand out to grip your shoulder and steady you into place.

You scoff, attempting to pull away, but it’s no use. The dark haired man is everywhere, keeping you from walking away.

“You talk to me like the grown ass woman you are,” he tells you sternly, stepping in. “You use that voice I know you have, and don’t you ever let me catch you writin’ a letter to me about how you wanna break up instead of comin’ to talk to me. Y’understand?”

You exhale shakily, lips pressing together and brows curling. “I can’t.”

“Y’re still not tellin’ me why you think that.”

“Because I can’t, Toji. I can’t tell you. It’ll- it’ll fuck up everything!” you break, and Toji feels the pit in his stomach shift as he looks over your aggrieved expression, depicting the same exact things he feels.

“(Y/n),” he calls your name firmly, the sound of it on his tongue only inspiring the urge to cry more. You continue to shake your head though Toji isn’t exactly speaking, and his green eyes wander you with frustrated concern. “Y’scared of what I’ll do if you tell me?”

You freeze, slowly peeling your eyes to look at his, his face tense with grief. You stare at him for a moment, mouth gaping like a fish as all of your insecurities that talked you toward this ledge run through your mind once more.

“Don’t look surprised,” he says. “I know you like the back of my hand, and I know that you knew I’d be over here to stop ya.”

Your frown deepens, and this time as you look at him, you see every second of your future that you were quick to stomp dow. You see the unbridled, unfiltered love he holds for you as well as the blood curdling fear of letting you go.

“You have to understand,” you whimper. “I know how you’ll react, I- I can’t do this to you. You have to let me go.”

“What the hell could be so horrifyin’ in that head of yours to make you think that I won’t stick with ya through hell and high water?” he grits out, searching your swollen hues of (e/c) hesitation. “You’d do the same for me.”

“I know, but-“

“There’s nothin’ else to say. I ain’t leavin’ until you spill, and when you do, y’re comin’ with me.”

You look at him, pained. It’s a trap, you think. If Toji only knew, he’d be running for the hills instead of trying to track you down.

“Out with it, now.”

You can’t. You can’t tell him. He’ll leave you, he’ll reject you, he’ll turn you away, he’ll never let you see the kids again.

“(Y/n)!”

“I’m pregnant!”

The earth seems to freeze and time seems to slow. You scrunch your eyes, anticipating the worst to come as Toji takes in your words, his tensed expression melting slowly.

You don’t open your eyes to see his reaction. You keep your head ducked and your fists closed as the white noise of nature flutters into relevance. You’re trembling, terrified, and Toji can not move but instead proceeds to stare at you, stunned.

His words about not wanting any more kids run through your mind again as you await his response, and the suspense kills you as you do. You can feel his grip on your shoulder slacken before tightening again, and you are terrified.

He’s going to leave you.

You are quick to step away when the sentiment arises once more, Toji’s hand falling from you arm. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, still unable to look at him. “I’m sorry, I know that you don’t want any more kids. I know, an I thought we were being careful, but- I took five tests. They’re all positive.”

“You’re pregnant?” he echoes, and you still. You knew it. You knew this would happen.

“I told you, Toji,” you exhale. “I told you that I couldn’t tell you, and now everything’s a mess.”

He twitches. “Hold on-“

“Don’t tell me all of a sudden you want kids,” you snap. “I know how strongly you feel about it.”

“So instead of talkin’ to me, you were gonna leave? Knocked up? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“What other choice do I have?!” you cry. “You don’t want more kids, and if I kept it, it would only be a nuisance to you. And Megumi and Tsumiki?”

He scrunches his face. “What about ‘em?”

“How do you think they’d feel if the woman you’re dating after their mother died surprised them with a new baby? They’d be crushed!” you say shakily as salty tears well in your eyes again. “I can’t overstep your boundaries. I just can’t. It’s easier for me to go.”

“And do what, (Y/n)? Raise a kid on your own without any help?”

“I can’t bare you leaving me!” you suddenly confess, tear striking past your cheek.

Toji examines you and frowns. “What are y’talkin’ about? You’re tryin’ to leave me!”

“So I can prevent the inevitable from happening,” you huff. “I’m okay with it. I’ve made peace with everything. That’s why you need to just let me go-“

“After everythin’, you think I’d throw you away because you’re pregnant with my kid?” Toji says incredulously. You falter, for you had been so sure of his reaction before. “You think that low of me?”

“No, but I want you to have what you want.”

“What I want is you, you fuckin’ idiot,” he hisses. “All I ever wanted was you, and I can’t fuckin’ believe you’re tryin’ to take that away from me.”

You furrow your brows, confused. “…You’re not mad?”

“Girl, I’m livid,” he scowls. “Not about the damn kid, but because you assumed what I would say before comin’ to me.”

“Toji, you have to understand that I was trying to look out for you.”

“There’s not lookin’ out for me or those kids or makin’ them happy if you’re gone, (Y/n),” he bites. “Who th’fuck put that idea in your head?”

You stammer, tears proceeding to flow down your face as you reel in the reality of the situation. “I… I just thought-“

“I don’t wanna hear it.”

Before you can respond, his hand is gripping your wrist and he’s tugging you toward him into his chest. You shake when you fall into him, listening to the pace of his heart rapidly beating against your ear as he breaths quickly against you. Large palms smooth over your head and down to your waist as he holds you tightly, and you notice how desperate his grip is. He’s holding you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, as though you’ll fly away if his hold is not tight enough.

He tucks his head into your neck, fingers grasping into your shirt, and suddenly the animosity of the moment prior is gone. You’re still trembling, leading Toji to hold you tighter to him.

“Can’t believe you tried to leave,” he murmurs into your hair. “Christ, (Y/n) you’re tryin’ to gimme a heart attack. The fuck is goin’ on with you.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble into his chest, looking off sadly. “I thought you’d be upset about it. I didn’t want you to know.”

“I should know about any and every single thing that’s goin’ on with you, y’hear me? This ain’t no exception.”

A weight flutters from your shoulders as you sink into Toji’s head, silent tears streaming for the life you almost sacrificed. “What are we gonna do?”

“I dunno,” he mumbles. “But we’ll figure it out. As a team. Alright?”

You nod meekly. “Okay.”

He groans, pressing himself impossibly further to you. “That letter… fuck, don’t do that shit. Don’t fuckin’ scare me like that. Without you, I ain’t shit- pregnant or not. And those kids would adore another sibling if you were bringing it into this world. Don’t say that shit about them again either. They need ya. We need ya.”

“I’m sorry,” you whine again, Toji’s hand stroking over your back soothingly.

“It’s okay,” he grumbles. “We’ll figure it out.”

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erinwantstowrite · 4 months ago

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if you're stuck on a chapter there are a few reasons:

-your set up to the scene you're writing is not working. go back and check it

-you are not in the right POV. think about who would be the most interesting or the most entertaining or the most informative in that scene, depending on what impact you want the scene to have

-you're at the beginning of the chapter and the words aren't coming to you even though you have it planned out already? the solution is simple: you don't like what you have planned out as much as you think you do. do not force it

-solution to a lot of problems comes from a single question I ask myself: Do I choose the kind option, or the mean option? (Your readers will eat up either one)

-You find the dialogue lacking? Act it out

-Your scene feels boring or something just "ain't right" but you can't tell what it is? Try making yourself feel the emotion you want your readers to feel. If you didn't cry while writing a scene meant to make your readers bawl their eyes out, then you might not have connected to your character as well as you wanted to. Put yourself in their shoes, pretend you ARE them.

(And afterwards, please practice putting yourself back in your own shoes and taking care of your mental health. Sometimes the fucked up stuff might get to you. Healthy minds create healthy lives, and in turn, you get to keep creating.)

-Your environment might be bothering you. Take a look around you and see what's nagging you. Is your workspace not clean? Are your notes out of order? A clean/orderly workspace can help you organize your thoughts or get you into a more productive mood. (Trust me, I get it, sometimes it's really hard to keep it tidy.)

-Try white/brown/pink noise. Try listening to music, or to videos that create background noise you feel most productive with.

-Jumping jacks. Squats. Stretches. Wiggle around your room. That one scene in High School Musical where Sharpay and Ryan are warming up. It sounds ridiculous, but this is good for you, your body, and your mind. Release pent up energy, get yourself awake and focused. If you aren't able to do this, try something silly to wake your brain up. Do some puzzles, sing some songs, etc.

-Most importantly:

Did you do your laundry? Did you get enough sun? Did you drink enough water? Did you eat enough today? Did you get your favorite snack? Did you smile? Did you run in your yard like you did as a kid? Did you laugh with your friend? Did you see the way their eyes crinkle when they smile at you? Did you play with your dog? Your cat? Did you look at the flowers in the field near your house? Did you meet someone new? Did you learn something you didn't before? Did you try something you were scared of? Did it go well? Did you enjoy being yourself? Did you explore the world today? Did you live? Did you love? Did you feel? Did you breathe, and relax, and feel that everything is gonna be okay?

It might seem insignificant, but we write from the heart, not just the mind. Let your story sit in the back of your mind when you truly feel stuck. Take care of yourself, try getting out of your head. Notice the details around you, commit them to memory. Your story will wait for you. It might take a day, or days, or a week, or a month, months, or a year or years. But the story sits with you and you'll be thinking about it without actually thinking about it. When you come to your story again, it will be happy that you've grown, no matter how big or small

#erinwantstowrite #writing blog #writing advice #writing #writing inspiration #writer's block #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #mental health #it's so imprtant to take care of yourself #your characters want you to do that #they live as an extension of you

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blacktabbygames · 11 months ago

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Slay the Princess Concept Art

We shared a bunch of concept art on Twitter today. Sharing it here, too, where you can find it all in one post. Post contains spoilers, so proceed with caution (or just play the game already if you haven't 😉)

Going to start with the first piece of concept art Abby drew for the game.

In the earliest stages of development, we toyed around with the concept of there being multiple "end game" forms of the Princess.

The initial outline, rather than being tied together by an overarching metanarrative, structured a full playthrough as a 5-6 chapter long, self-contained journey down a single route, determined by your decisions in chapter 1. Here's an alternative late-game form:

The idea of deviating end-game forms didn't lost for very long, though. As we explored the game's themes more deeply, it made the most sense for there to be a singular "true" form.

If your reality is shaped by subjectivity and perception, then the "truth" has to be what's left when that subjectivity is swept away. the Shifting Mound's final design feels like that initial truth for the Princess, though there's also another truth if you push back against her and press on into the final cabin.

We really liked this "void" design, and I played around with the idea of it being an intermediary to the final form. The "void" Princess would be what you saw upon encountering the final Princess without understanding your own truth, but once you had that understanding, you would see her as the Shifting Mound, as depicted in the game.

That gave way to the intermediary design of the SM being a sea of disembodied limbs, and we also took parts of both designs and incorporated them into the protagonist (particularly the wings.) You can see the eyes and feathers for this void form in the ending card of the original trailer below:

You can see extremely early concept art for the spectre (top), nightmare (top-right), stranger (left), beast (bottom) and ??? (right) as well!

The eyes became a motif in the Nightmare route (Paranoid's manifestation of the fear of being watched), but I also like to think of them as a part of The Long Quiet's truth. You are space and emptiness, but you're also that which observes those things, and it's your perceptions that give the Shifting Mound shape.

Anyways, on the note of the original original concepts for the game, the Princess was initially going to remain human for several loops before taking on more monstrous forms. Some concepts of that are below. Had to get Abby to tone down some of the more horrifically cartoonish designs because they creeped me out and I didn't want to romance them in a video game.

We had to hold our cards close to our chest in the non-metanarrative early drafts, which is part of why, even in the first demo, the cabin doesn't really change much in chapter 2. More room to subtly play with the concept of transformation over time.

There were a lot of reasons we moved in a different direction for the full release. The branching was unmanageably large to write, and the game felt like a slog to write.

Using an overarching narrative as a framing mechanism in the final version gave us a lot more freedom to explore wildly divergent ideas within routes while still driving the player towards the originally planned finale.

Anyways, now we've got some concept art for individual princesses. There's a lot more than this lying around somewhere, but it's all in sketchbooks, and we'll probably wait until we make an art book to show it off.

First is the tower, who really didn't change much at all. (She got a little thicker, I guess. All of the Princesses did)

Not a lot to say about her, other than the fact that we knew we wanted a set piece where she gets so big that the trees and cabin orbit around her.

The stranger went through many many redesigns over the course of development. Here, she was a "princess skin" filled with a hive of sentient bugs. The script wasn't working for me, though, so instead she became a peak behind the curtains without the necessary context to know her.

A lot of people ask how these earlier drafts of the Stranger route would have played out, and the answer is I can't tell you, because I couldn't figure out something worth writing.

The writing process for individual routes didn't really start with outlines or plot beats. Rather, the routes started from a theme and a relationship dynamic, and I organically found their outcomes by exploring actions within those themes, and then seeing if those passed Abby's editor brain.

Neither of us found actions we wanted to explore with those versions of the Stranger, at least actions that weren't a beat-by-beat retelling of chapter 1, which contained way too much variation to put on a single chapter 2 route.

If each princess examines a relationship formed by perception and first impressions, the Stranger examines one that's fundamentally unknowable. One where you've seen too much, too quickly.

An insect hive-mind pretending to be a person seemed like a good starting point, but it was too difficult to write any interactions that didn't immediately feel knowable, if still strange. So the final version of the Stranger was designed in such a way where her unknowability makes interacting with her on a human level fundamentally impossible, and you don't get to have a real conversation with her unless you satisfy extremely specific criteria.

Anyways next up is the razor's final form. We decided she needed more swords.

Hearts became an accidental motif very quickly in the development process, too. (The fact that it is only strikes to the heart that fell her in the demo was accidental, but it felt poetic so we extended it to the rest of the game.)

So on top of adding more swords, we made her heart visible. This is something we did with the fury as well, as a way of showing their emotional (and physical) vulnerability.

Here's an early version of the Adversary and what would eventually become the Eye of the Needle, back when she was still called the Fury. Originally her hair was going to be fire (as seen on the right), but it didn't feel right in its execution.

She's hit the gym since this concept art. Good for her :)

And we're going to end with the Beast, who at this point was called the Adversary. I think this was before the Witch was added? The Beast was originally designed to be a Questing Beast who lurked in the shadows, where you'd only see glimpses of her, and where each glimpse would make her appear to be a different animal. This was too difficult to execute, though we gave her a more chimera-like appearance in the final game.

This design was from when we still has the Voice of the Obsessed, and the route was going to be a more feral mirror of what eventually became the Adversary, but it felt too thematically similar while being less interesting, so we moved in the direction of making the Beast about consumption as a form of love.

Anyways, that's all we've got for you right now. Hope this was fun!

#slay the princess #interactive fiction #character design

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w4ndal0ver · 24 days ago

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The Art of Submission (2)

[minors don't interact, 18+]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

chapter summary: The tension between you and Wanda becomes too much and you finally give into her alluring remarks and suggestions. She breaks you.

whole summary: As a growing author, you're grappling with a frustrating writer's block while trying to craft your next lesbian erotic novel. With a lack of personal experience holding you back, inspiration seems just out of reach. But when a captivating neighbour steps in, offering unexpected support and a tantalizing invitation to explore the depths of desire, you find yourself on a journey that blurs the lines between reality and fiction, leading to a discovery that you definitely weren't expecting.

content warnings: continuing the insane amount of sexual tension, mention of heavy dom/sub dynamic, fingering, orgasm denial, begging.

note: So this is the second instalment and I definitely have never put this much work into the build up of what's basically a shamelessly dirty smutty story, however I hope you enjoy. (the next instalment is where things get super interesting and it will be out soon)

The Art of Submission - Chapter 2

Your heart is still racing, the taste of Wanda’s lips lingering as you lean back, trying to catch your breath. She watches you, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of curiosity and something darker, more dangerous.

“I can see the wheels turning in that beautiful head of yours.” she teases, her finger still resting on her lips as if savouring the kiss, “what are you thinking.”

You try to compose yourself, offering a playful smile in return. “I’m thinking you’re trouble,” you say, but the voice betrays the thrill surging through you. Wanda’s energy is magnetic and you’re already caught in the strength of her pull.

She chuckles softly, leaning closer so that her arm brushes against yours again. The subtle contact makes your nerve endings tremble. “Oh, I think you like a little trouble.” She murmurs, her tone smooth as silk. She tilts her head slightly, eyes gleaming as they enter that same darling lock with yours once more. “It's not the writing, is it?” she asks, eyes glistening, “It’s what you’re writing about.”

You shift, unsure of how to answer, but Wanda presses on, her tone softer, coaxing you forward. “You know what you want to say,” She whispers, her fingers brushing a slow maddening path along your thigh. “It’s the feeling you’re struggling with. The way to express it… to make it real.”

Your breath hitches. You don’t respond right away, too caught up in the way she’s watching you, her gaze predatory and knowing. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and it’s clear she’s not letting you off easily.

“What is it that you’re really trying to explore?” Wanda’s voice is like velvet, low and intimate. “Sadomasochism, right? It’s more than just the physical, it's the headspace, the emotional surrender, pushing limits.” Her words stir something deep inside of you, a part of you that you hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. You nod meekly, almost on instinct, feeling the weight of her hand anchoring you in place.

“You’re not struggling with the plot,” she continues, her voice soft but relentless, “You’re struggling with how far to take it. How far to go beyond ‘safe.’” Her thumb continues to stroke a slow deliberate circle just above your knee, and your breath catchers at the subtle increase in pressure. “You’ve written about control before, but this is different. This is about letting go completely.”

With that your pulse is on fire, her words hitting home. It is different. It’s darker and dangerous and Wanda is pushing you toward that edge, darling you to step over it.

Her lips curve into a slow and wicked smile. “Maybe” She pushes, her voice laced with heat, “you’re scared to write about what you actually want.” Your body tenses at the insinuation and Wanda picks up on it immediately. She doesn’t pull away though, if anything, she leans in closer, her breath brushing the side of your neck. “You want to write about power,” She whispers, her hand sliding higher, the pressure firm but tantalising, “About giving it up, about what it feels like when someone takes it from you.” She pauses, letting her words settle into the heavy air between you, “but the only way to write that truthfully is to understand it.”

Your throat feels tight, your body alive with the tension crackling between you. You can’t find any words, but Wanda doesn’t seem to need them. She reads every flicker of your expression. Every quickening breath makes that wicked smile deepen.

“You can’t fake that kind of intensity darling,” Her voice is almost hypnotic, “You need to feel it. You need to know what it’s like to hand over your control, to be at someone else's mercy.” You feel her fingers move higher up your thigh. She’s testing you, waiting to see how far she can push you before you break.

“And maybe,” She adds, her hand reaching up to tuck your hair away from your face, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, “You’re tired of always being the one in control.”

This was when you realised how close she had gotten to you, her hand still on your leg, firm and unyielding, grounding you in the moment as her breath fans across your neck. “It’s okay.” her voice soft but demanding, “to want something different, to want to feel different.”

The tension between you is palpable now, the air charged with the unspoken promise of what could come next. Wanda’s touch, so deliberate, so confident, feels like a silent dare - a challenge to take that next step, to let yourself go. “Tell me,” Her lips are almost brushing yours as she speaks, “What do you really want.”

You meet her gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as the weight of her question sinks in. Your mind races, torn between the familiar safety of control and the intoxicating allure of surrender. But Wanda’s eyes hold you captive, drawing you deeper into her web and you know there’s no turning back now.

Wanda’s hand remains a steady weight on your thigh, the heat from her palm seeping into your bare skin. The faint scent of her perfume surrounds you, the intensity of the smell pulling you in deeper. She tilts her head ever so slightly, her auburn hair falling in soft waves over her shoulder as she studies you, “You’re thinking too much again,” she says, her voice a quiet murmur. Her thumb continues its slow, torturous circle against your thigh.

“I’m not- I just-.” You start, but the words get caught in your throat. Your hands restless in your lap as you fidget under her unwavering stare, the one that is watching every tiny flicker of emotion that crosses your face.

“You don’t need to be nervous,” She says slowly, “Not with me.” You can feel her body heat now, the way her knee is pressing against yours, her hand resting higher on your thigh, just enough to remind you of her control without pushing too far. “Look at me.” She demands, her tone firmer now, the authority in her voice making your pulse jump. You turn your head back to her, your eyes meeting hers and she holds your gaze, unrelenting. “You can’t write it if you can’t say it.”

The words feel impossibly heavy on your tongue, but the heat of Wanda’s body so close to yours makes it harder to resist. You lick your lips, trying to steady yourself and finally the words come out, shaky and quiet. “I want to give up control.”

Wanda’s smile widens, a gleam of satisfaction flashing in her eyes. Her hand continues to slide higher, fingertips brushing the sensitive skin just above the hem of your tiny black skirt. Her thumb tracing the line of your inner thigh now with an agonising slowness. “Good,” She purrs, her voice dripping with approval, “But that's only part of it, isn’t it?”

You can’t look away from her, your chest tight with anticipation. She’s close enough that you can see the faint freckles scattered across her cheeks, the way her lips curve into that teasing smile. Her fingers move again, deliberate, testing, and your body reacts instinctively, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

Her eyes darken with amusement, “Tell me the rest,” she coaxes, her voice like velvet, “What do you want from me?”

The question hangs between you, and your breath catches itself. Your hands trembling slightly in your lap and you glance down, the words heavy and terrifying as they try to force their way out. Wanda’s touch on your leg is insistent, her presence so overwhelming that you can hardly think straight.

“I- I want you to-” Your voice wavers, but Wanda’s gaze still doesn’t falter.

“Go on,” Her fingers brushing just a little higher, dangerously close to where you feel the heat pooling beneath your skin, finally becoming aware of the arousal that had built between your legs, “Say it.”

The tension between you is unbearable, the pull of her command undeniable. You bite your lip, you’d never wanted anybody more than Wanda at this moment. “I want you to take control.” Now, everything feels suspended, the weight of your confession hanging in the charged air between you.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it.” She murmurs, her voice teasing your timid and shaky reactions. You shake your head in nervous response, her hand moves again, a millimetre higher, the pressure firmer and you feel your body shudder under her gentle but demanding touch. “Now that you’ve said it, we can explore what it really means.”

Wanda’s eyes stayed locked on yours, that familiar, testing glint dancing in their depths. She leaned back, her posture easy, as if she was weighing her next move carefully. “You know what you want,” Wanda murmured softly, her voice caressing your face, “But you haven’t said it out loud yet.”

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry, “I- I don’t know if I can.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Wanda’s lips curved into a smile, her body leaning towards yours, her fingertips now dancing lightly over her own wrist, an unspoken reminder of the power she held, a soft contrast to the hard edge in her voice.

Your eyes flickered to the small motion, captivated by the simplicity of it. Her confidence was dizzying, making your chest tighten with a mix of excitement and intimidation.

“I-” You started, you wanted to tell her, to finally give in to that pull she had over you, but the fear of laying yourself bare - of admitting the truth - made your heart race, “I’m not sure how to say it.”

Wanda’s hand slid from her wrist, gliding across the table between you until it stopped short of touching yours. She hovered there, the warmth from her skin so close you could almost feel it, yet she didn’t make contact.

“Let me make it easier for you then,” She whispers, her voice laced with control, “Do you want me to touch you? Is that what you’re afraid to say?” This time she cocks her head, her eyes never leaving your face. Her lips parted slightly as she waited, giving you the space to answer but tightening the leash on the unspoken tension between you.

Every part of you screamed yes, but your voice remained trapped so all you could do was nod. Wanda’s eyes were still flickering with satisfaction, as though she had expected this. She didn’t move right away, letting the silence build around you, drawing out the longing anticipation until it felt as if time had stopped completely.

“I didn’t hear you,” She said, her fingers finally brushing the back of your hand, the lightest touch, almost too soft to feel.

“I want you to touch me.” You could hardly believe you had said it, your voice barely audible, but the words were out now and there was no taking them back.

Wanda’s smirk deepened, her confidence growing as she saw the effect she was having on you. Her fingers shifted over the back of your hand before slipping up to your wrist. She was barely touching you, yet it felt like she had control of every nerve in your body.

“You see,” she said quietly, her lips brushing the words against the air between you, “this is the kind of power you need to understand. Submission is about giving yourself over completely… even when it scares you.” Her fingers tightened around your wrist, a gentle hold, but there was no mistaking the control she was exerting over you.

Your breath quickened, and you felt your chest rise and fall faster with each passing second. She was pushing you—testing you—but in a way that made you feel safe, even as your body screamed with anticipation.

Wanda’s other hand came to rest on your knee, light at first, but her grip slowly tightened, her thumb drawing slow, deliberate circles on your skin. It was all you could do to remain still, your muscles tense under her touch, your entire body hyper-aware of every inch of contact.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared back at her. The room felt smaller, the air too thick to breathe properly. She wasn’t just asking you about the book anymore. She was asking you what you wanted. What you were ready for. “Say it,” she commanded softly, her voice leaving no room for hesitation, sensing that you were holding back your words.

Your pulse quickened, your body aching with the tension of holding back. “I want to go further,” you whispered, the words leaving your lips before you even had time to think them through. “I want… to give up control.”

Wanda smiled, her satisfaction evident in the way her fingers flexed against your skin. “Good,” she murmured, her tone dripping with approval. “Then let’s start.” She leaned in, her breath warm against your ear as her lips barely grazed your skin. “But remember... it’s my control now.”

Your body tensed, but not from fear. The tension was different—an anticipation, a feeling like you were about to step off the edge of something and you weren’t sure what lay below. And yet, with Wanda, you felt drawn to that edge, even if it terrified you. She leaned back just slightly, her lips no longer hovering near your ear, but her eyes never left yours, still piercing, still searching.

“Are you ready to surrender?” she asked, her voice low but commanding, her fingers curling just slightly tighter around your wrist. “To give me what I want?”

You couldn’t speak right away. The knot of nerves and excitement twisted inside your stomach, making it hard to find your voice. You swallowed, your lips parting as you struggled to answer.

“I—” you started, but her fingers tightened again, not painfully, but enough to remind you that she was in control now.

“Shh,” she whispered, her thumb stroking lightly across your skin, calming and demanding all at once. “Take a breath. You’re trembling.”

She was right. You hadn’t noticed how much your body was shaking, every nerve ending tingling from her touch, from the intensity of the moment. You drew in a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, and her grip loosened just enough to give you space to catch your breath.

Wanda’s eyes softened, though the playful glint remained in them. She seemed to enjoy watching you wrestle with the tension between desire and fear. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice soothing but with an undercurrent of control. “You don’t have to rush. Just tell me how you want this to feel.”

Her hand on your knee shifted slightly, her fingers sliding just a bit higher, making your breath catch again. She was so good at this—so practised, it seemed—like she knew exactly how to push you, how to keep you teetering on that edge.

You licked your lips, your pulse still racing, but your nerves slowly giving way to a sense of surrender. You didn’t want to hold back anymore. You didn’t want to be afraid of what you were feeling. “I want… I want to feel like I’m not in control,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The admission came out almost like a confession, like you were telling her something you’d barely admitted to yourself.

Wanda smiled, her eyes lighting up with approval. “Good,” she murmured, her fingers shifting again, just slightly, but it was enough to send another wave of sensation through you. “And what else?”

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to put the words together. “I want you to push me,” you said, your voice more confident now, even if your body still trembled under her touch. “I want to feel like I don’t know what’s coming next.”

Wanda’s smirk deepened, and her fingers slid higher still, her touch achingly slow, deliberate. “You want to be surprised,” she mused, her voice soft but filled with that same commanding tone that made your pulse quicken. “You want to be on the edge, not knowing what I’ll do, but trusting that I won’t let you fall.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you nodded slowly. “Yes.”

Wanda’s hand released your wrist, and for a moment you felt the loss of her touch like a sudden drop, your skin buzzing in the absence of her grip. But then, she moved closer, her thigh pressing against yours, her fingers brushing the side of your neck. It was such a simple gesture, yet it held so much weight—so much promise.

“I can do that,” she whispered, her lips curving into that dangerous smile. “But first…” Her thumb traced the line of your jaw, making your breath hitch. “I want to hear you say it again. Say that you want to surrender.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, your body feeling heavy with the tension she was weaving around you. But this time, you didn’t hesitate. “I want to surrender,” you whispered, your voice stronger, more certain. “To you.”

Wanda’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and she leaned in, her lips brushing yours for the briefest of moments, a featherlight touch that made your body yearn for more. “Good,” she breathed against your lips. “Then let me show you what it feels like to let go.”

She pulled back just enough to keep the tension hanging between you, her hands moving deliberately down your arms, her touch slow, intentional, as though savouring the moment. Your entire body was on edge, waiting for her next move, but she kept you there—suspended in that delicious tension, every touch, every breath drawn out.

Her fingers slid down your arms, stopping just at your wrists, holding them with a gentle but commanding grip. “Let me take over,” she whispered, her voice so close to your ear you could feel the warmth of her breath. “Let me guide you.”

You nodded, your body trembling with anticipation, and with that single movement, you felt the shift. Wanda was no longer waiting for permission—she was in control now, and you could feel the power dynamic shift, a current running between you that electrified the air. The question wasn’t whether you wanted to give in anymore. The question was how far you were willing to let her take you.

Wanda’s fingers trace slow, deliberate circles along the inside of your wrist, her touch sending a quiet hum of electricity up your arm. She holds your gaze, her eyes darkening, the room suddenly feeling smaller, the air heavier.

"You don’t have to be afraid of saying what you want," Wanda whispers, her lips barely moving. Her voice is low, controlled, as if she already knows your answer, but she’s waiting—enjoying the power of making you say it aloud.

You swallow, your throat dry. Her proximity, the subtle scent of her skin, the way her fingers never stop moving—it’s all dizzying. Your mind spins, words getting tangled in the heat between you. "I—"

Wanda tilts her head, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. She leans in closer, her breath brushing against your cheek. "Tell me."

It’s not a request—it’s a command, soft but insistent. Her hand slides up, teasingly grazing your collarbone, her fingertips feather-light but purposeful, waiting for you to open the door completely.

“I want...” Your voice falters, your chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. The weight of what’s about to happen presses in from all sides, but there’s something intoxicating in it. Something you can’t pull away from. “I want you to show me.”

Wanda’s smirk deepens, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “That’s my girl,” she murmurs, and in that instant, everything shifts.

You’re burning now, every inch of your body is desperate to feel the touch of her, even your mind is beginning to surrender itself to her. Wanda’s eyes finally broke the strong gaze that she had been holding, her glare now roaming down your body. You weren’t wearing anything particularly flattering, just a plain white cropped jumper paired with a short black skirt, but Wanda’s eyes still sparkled in delight at the sight of you sitting trembling on the kitchen stool.

Her grip around your wrist turns into a pull as she closes the gap between them, pushing her lips against yours, dragging her tongue across your bottom lip. You immediately give her the control, allowing her access, the kiss deepening as she slides her hand up the back of your neck, her nails grazing against your skin. You whine into her mouth and you can feel her lips curve into that same smile as she takes your bottom lip between her teeth, lightly tugging.

As she pulls away, her hand trails from your neck down your back, just one finger tracing the line all the way down your spine. “Are you comfortable with this?” Wanda asks, her voice deeper, laced with lust. You nod, your hand roaming to the back of her neck, gesturing for her to come back. “No, you need to learn to use your words honey.”

“Yes I’m comfortable.” You say, your voice laden with confidence all of a sudden and the look that this earned you made you understand why you would do anything she asked of you.

“Oh, sweet girl, that’s better.” Wanda praises and your cheeks flush scarlet in response. Her finger traces the outline of your jaw, her hand stopping against your chin, guiding you face upwards to meet her stare. With the length of your neck exposed, she leans in to make gentle kisses against your skin, the back of her hand keeping your neck rigid against her lips. You could feel your thighs squeezing together, the slow anticipation and sudden grazes of her teeth driving you crazy.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Wanda warns, spreading your thighs back open just enough that she can stand between your legs. Her hands roam down the underneath of your thighs, her touches so gentle that you were surprised you were so desperate for her. Her fingers kept brushing closer towards where you needed her, your hips rolling towards her hand in a desperate attempt for any contact. “I need to establish a few things with you okay?”

You nod and you can see her suck her tongue between her teeth, the tilt of her head and the dark disapproving look that emerged immediately made you feel shameful in yourself, “Sorry, Yes Wanda.” Her frown turned into a smile, one that made your entire core shake.

This time as her hand edged closer to you, she didn’t stop, allowing her fingers to lightly brush your dampened underwear, an excited gasp eliciting from the redhead as your head hangs in prolonged anticipation. “Much better, you see when you do what I want, you get rewarded.” Wanda was laying down her expectations of you, but your brain was fuzzy as her fingers continued to explore the edges of your underwear that had become completely soaked in the process.

You begin to grip the sides of your stool as you feel Wanda dip her finger underneath the drenched material, gently skimming the length of your sensitive skin, not giving you what you needed but enough to make you tremble. Her stance between your legs, your head leaning to rest against her chest as she felt her way through the wetness that she found between your legs.

“When you do something against what I’ve told you, for whatever reason, you will get punished.” Wanda states, removing her fingers from you, leaving you without any contact. You whine at the loss, hips jutting against your will in an attempt to regain some friction. “Do you know what you like?”

You shake your head, brain foggy with desperation. Wanda pinches the skin between your thighs and you yelp in pain, “No Wanda.” You say, immediately correcting yourself

“That’s okay, we can talk about it and I can help you explore these things.” She demands and you swallow hard as she bites her lip feeling the thrill of your innocent vulnerability. “From now on you’ll be my good girl, and I’ll guide you through this, do you understand?”

“Yes Wanda.” With your immediate submission to her rules, her eyes darken with intensity as she replaces her hand back to where you needed her. You gasp at the immediate contact against your clit, her fingers skilfully finding your bundle of nerves beneath your underwear, gently tapping the pad of her finger against it.

“I know you’re familiar with the traffic light system.” Wanda continues, referencing your latest novel, a blush forming in your already flushed cheeks at the reminder that this is what led her into your apartment. “But this is very important, if you ever feel uncomfortable or want to slow down, just say your colour.”

“I understand.” You pant through breathy gasps, Wanda’s taps had become circles against your bundle of nerves and you could feel your core burning as she sent jolts of electricity through your body with nothing but gentle touches.

“That’s it, you’re getting the hang of it, pretty girl.” A soft moan erupted from your lips at her words and Wanda’s gaze dances over your face, warmth radiating from her eyes as she cherishes in their first moment. She lifts your chin once again so your eyes finally meet and she smiles at the lust and desperation hidden within the depth of your eyes.

You feel your orgasm nearing as Wanda speeds up her movements, her grip on your chin forcing you to look at her as she unravels you in your own kitchen. “Rule one, you don’t cum unless I give you the permission to do so.” Her voice was commanding and authoritative, her look fierce and unwavering, making it clear that she knows exactly what she wants.

“Y-yes.” You manage to get out, your body shaking as Wanda increased the pressure on your swollen clit, the short breathy moans that escaped your lips driving her forward, not wanting to tease you now, just wanting to see what you look like when you’re brought to the very edge, longing to see your head throw back and whine her name as she takes you over the brink.

“You’re close aren’t you princess.” Wanda exclaims, her smile not once leaving her lips as she tilts your head backwards slightly, forcing you to look up at her with a longing desperation that she couldn’t wait to draw out in the future.

“Wanda, please let me cum, I’m so close.” Your body was itching you closer and closer towards your orgasm but you were determined to wait for her order, wanting to prove yourself to her.

“Hold it for me, you can do it.” Wanda instructs and you whine against her grip on your chin, doing everything you can to hold it back, every nerve in your body on fire as she relentlessly works against your clit.

“I can’t, I need-” You splutter, slamming your hand into the counter, doing everything you could. Your fingers are gripping the counter, so tightly that your knuckles turn white trying to fight for control. You tilt your head back further, lips parting in a silent plea, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the sensation becomes almost too much to bear. Even with your eyes closed you can feel Wanda’s gaze on you, a silent command for you to wait, keeping you just on the edge, right where she wants you.

Wanda leans closer, her lips ghosting over your ear, her breath warm against your skin. You shudder, barely able to hold on, her voice a soft, commanding whisper, ‘Beg for it.’

“Wanda,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with both desperation and longing. The way her name rolls off your tongue feels almost sacramental, a plea that resonates deep within you. You shift your weight, leaning slightly closer, as if the proximity could bridge the gap between your need and her control.“Please... I need—” You pause, swallowing hard, the heat pooling in your cheeks, shame and excitement mingling in a dizzying dance. “I need your permission.”

The admission hangs heavy in the air, charged with vulnerability. You can feel the pulse of anticipation thrumming through your veins, your body alive with the struggle of restraint. You take a steadying breath, grounding yourself as your fingers twist into the fabric again, a subtle plea for her to grant you this one thing.

“Please let me...” The words falter for a moment, but you force them out, the urgency driving you forward. “I can’t hold back anymore. I want to let go... but I need you to say it.”

The sincerity in your voice is palpable, raw and real, and you can see the flicker of something in Wanda's eyes—a mixture of pride and hunger. You lean in slightly, tilting your head, your gaze unwavering as you lock eyes with her, silently urging her to make that connection, to pull you from the precipice you’re hanging on.

Wanda’s smile widens, a slow, deliberate curve of her lips that sends a thrill racing down your spine. “You’re doing so well,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry, teasing your senses. She leans in closer, her warm breath fanning across your skin, igniting every nerve ending in your body. “But you know what you have to do to earn that release, don’t you?” Her swift circles against your clit were becoming stronger, the continuous roll of her contact pushing you closer and closer to an edge that you thought you’d already reached.

Your heart pounds harder, each beat resonating with the anticipation of what’s to come. You nod, swallowing hard, the words hovering on the tip of your tongue, begging to escape. Wanda watches you, her eyes glimmering with a mixture of authority and desire, and in that moment, you know that she holds the power to grant you the freedom you crave.

“Say it,” she instructs, her tone firm yet inviting. “Tell me what you want.”

The air is thick with tension, and your body betrays you, trembling with the weight of your desire. You take a breath, feeling every fibre of your being attuned to her, your vulnerability laid bare. “I want... I want to come,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with desperation.

For a moment, she holds your gaze, the intensity of her stare igniting something primal within you. “Good girl,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry. “I want you to let go, to feel everything I’ve been promising you. When I give you permission, you can release all that pent-up desire.”

You feel the flood of relief and exhilaration coursing through you, a wave of warmth washing over your body at her words. “Yes... please,” you urge, each syllable laced with a sense of urgency. “I need it, Wanda.”

With a slow, deliberate smile, she nods, her expression shifting to one of wicked delight. “Then go ahead, my sweet girl. You have my permission, cum for me.”

The moment the words leave her lips, a rush of sensation crashes over you like a wave, and you feel your body surrendering to the intoxicating pull of release. It’s everything you’ve been yearning for, and in that moment, the world fades away, leaving only the intoxicating pleasure that Wanda has granted you. Wanda continues circling your clit, helping you ride out the orgasm that you’d so desperately waited for.

Once the pleasure has washed over you, all you can do is sit with Wanda standing between your legs, her brazen eyes beating down at you, her fingers still massaging into your thighs, sensing the sensitivity from your subtle squirms in response to her touch.

“My god Wanda.” You say in utter astonishment at the woman's talent and it was her turn for her cheeks to grow slightly blushed at the praise, “I’ve never felt like that before, you’re incredible.”

“So you want this?” Wanda blushes, that dominating persona slowly breaking down at a few compliments. You mentally noted that down, knowing that it would come in useful at a later date.

“I want nothing more than to do whatever this is with you.” You state honestly, your body still burning. You reach up to tuck her auburn hair behind her ear, the one strand that had been sat directly in front of her eyeline the entire evening.

With that you exchanged numbers and you found yourself eagerly sitting waiting for the first text.

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paulyenvol6 · 2 months ago

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Byka Atroksia (Masterlist)

This is the masterlist/moodboard/summary for my new series called "Byka Atroksia". It's a story between Daemon Targaryen x reader (Vhaela Targaryen)

First of all: This story is based on the HBO/Max TV show House of the Dragon and the works of George R R Martin. I don't own any of the characters.

This story should only be read by people over 18 years as it contains adult content.

You can find the following themes in this story: HIGHLY detailed smut, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), kissing, dirty talk, losing of virginity, gagging, p in v, unprotected sex, period sex, praising, degrading, edging, overstimulating, blindfolding, some non-con choking, possessiveness, body image issues, angst, mentions of period and pregnancy, incest, inappropriate relationship between uncle and niece, power imbalance, dom!Daemon, inexperienced reader, arranged marriage, toxic relationship, morally questionable behaviour, abusive behaviour, sexual abuse (not performed by Daemon!)

Disclaimer: I am aware that the dynamic of this relationship is problematic as Vhaela's inferiority complexes cause her to search for Daemon's attention. So please be careful while reading this and have in mind that this kind of relationship is neither healthy nor desirable. Daemon is a bad person. His actions are irresponsible and unethical and he manipulates Vhaela. Don't try at home please.

Disclaimer 2.0: The G Spot: In this story I mention the g spot (even though the characters obviously don't know this term for it and what exactly it is) as a way for women to receive pleasure. I know that the existance of it is controversial and it's not scientifically proven that something similar exists. However, I still decided to include it in my story so my main character is able to receive pleasure by vaginal sex, but be aware that a lot of women don't get pleasure plainly by vaginal sex. I just don't want to portray a false image of what sex is supposed to be like so I felt the need to write a short paragraph about it.

Summary: Vhaela Targaryen is the younger sister to Rhaenyra Targaryen and has all her life felt like she was competing with her sister for their interesting and dangerous uncle's attention. In Vhaela's mind her beautiful and confident sister has already won this fight but when Daemon Targaryen returns from a battle at the Stepstones things seem to be a little different and she explores a whole new world of emotions.

Smut is marked with *

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 * (very light smut) Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 Chapter 5 * Chapter 6 * Chapter 7 Chapter 8 * Chapter 9 Chapter 10 * Chapter 11 * Chapter 12 Chapter 13 * Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 * Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 * Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 * Chapter 26 (Final chapter)

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legandairy-horror · 4 months ago

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Does anyone else feel a strange sort of dread waiting for new deltarune chapters?

It sounds crazy right? I admit it's a weird feeling for sure, and I'm not even 100% sure if dread is the right way to describe it. But as more info is revealed and the next chapter inevitably gets closer and closer to releasing I can't help but feel a strange sort of, melancholy? Longing? The only way I can describe it is "when you know the goodbye is coming". The strange somber feeling when you know you’re going to have to leave stuff behind, but aren't quite ready for it yet.

warning: words. Homestuck

In 3 months Chapter 1 will be 6 years old, and in 2 months Chapter 2 will be 3 years old. Deltarune is ostensibly in Early Access but this release schedule puts new chapters closer in time scale to whole sequals if anything, which they most assuredly are not trying to be. This has created a strange situation in the fanbase that I don't think I've ever truly seen anywhere else. One where, In the time between chapters It feels like everyone has had their own chance to decide what Deltarune is to them. To create their own version of this story, to write their own themes that they want to see explored, to imagine their own events and plot twists they want to see play out.

@lynxgriffin Paper Trail Comic Being an Alternate Story following off of chapter 1

@lilybug-02 The Chara Timeline Being one of many interpretations on the popular Asriel & Chara roommates headcannon.

@huecycles Andromeda Chapters being their interpretation on the full game

The innumerable Deltarune Theorists and analysts like HalfBreadChaos, Andrew Cunningham, Stuffed Alpaca, etc. etc.

@vyletbunni Deltatraveler being a whole ass fangame based around a chapter 2 meme that it has long since outlived

And that's kinda the thing isn't it? Once more deltarune comes out, a ton of these projects will just become outdated, it's an inevitability. So what will happen to them? will they become forgotten? maybe, maybe not, it's impossible to tell. but either way it feels kinda sad to think about yknow? that one day all the time and effort spent and all the memories made might one day just cease to exist.

There's a lot more I could say on this topic if given the chance but to keep this tumblr post from morphing into a 2 hour long video essay in text form let me leave off with this.

In the age of the internet and social media there will always be a fan of something. Nothing truly dies quite like it used to anymore, regardless of whatever influencers want you to believe. But that doesn't mean things stop changing, that there wasn't a past that has since been left behind. I'm a Homestuck fan. more specifically I'm a Late Homestuck fan, one who came in after the comic had already ended and it's peak in popularity was long behind it. The fandom's still around all these years later. But it'd be foolish to admit that, 8 years after the comics controversial end, the inescapable trend of new fans replacing old fans has left the fandom wholly disconnected from the monolith that it once was. the only remnants of which lie in decades old discourse and fanfiction. Like old relics of a long forgotten city, waiting to be excavated under a fine layer of dirt.

Before I close out here I just want to make it clear: I'm not saying that we should be trying to return to some nebulous "glorious past" that never really existed. I'm not trying to deride Toby Fox for not working in the sweatshop hard enough to produce more content™, or whatever you wanna try and spin-doctor this post into. It's just a thought that creeps into my head every now that I wanted to share, see if anyone feels the same, yknow?

Besides it's not all doom and gloom. For those of you OG Homestucks who read till the end. You remember Heinoustuck? Guidestuck? Nightfall? Fucking Ke$haStuck? yeah those are still going by the way! after years of inactivity they've now started back up again. some under new authors and some by the same author but still!

You could say a lot about that but to me at least, it makes me feels hopeful in a way. That, even if not everything will survive. we'll at least have some mementos to remember what came before.

#deltarune #utdr #toby fox #deltarune chapter three #deltarune chapter 3 #deltarune chapter 4 #deltarune chapter four #deltarune update #deltarune fanfiction #deltarune discussion #homestuck #fandom

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sapphosclosefriend · 11 months ago

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- Money, Power, Glory pt 2 -

Pairing: CEO! Silverfox! Natasha Romanoff x Escort! Fem! Reader

Genre: smut

Summary: your first time at the Romanoff household starts off more than well. Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: top! Natasha x bottom! R, Natasha has a penis, big age gap (N=56, R=24), very brief drinking (N), making out, SMUT, dry humping, face riding, 69ing, tit fucking, brief cum eating (R).

A/N: this story contains smut so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. Sorry for the longest wait ever, chapter 3 should be basically ready to go, so I'll dedicate myself to writing the Christmas special in the meantime! Thanks so much to @supercorpdanbeau and @rt--link for being so amazing 💕 As usual, likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy ♡

Masterlist

You tried so hard to keep your wandering eyes from selfishly focusing on her hands as she poured herself a glass of whiskey by the small corner bar in her living room, but you just couldn't help but appreciate the beautiful sight in front of you. You could see the tension in her casual standing as she finished making herself a drink, before walking over to the couch and sitting down next to you, too far away for your bodies to touch but close enough to suggest her intent to make it happen. You couldn't keep your lips from slightly curling up at her eyes, behind the glass of expensive liquor, constantly moving, not as sneakily as she thought, to the small snippet of thighs that was being revealed by your dress naturally riding up a bit thanks to your crossed legs.

She thought she was going to be stronger than that, stronger than most, yet there she was, with a tent already starting to form in her pants at the sight of a beautiful young woman all dressed up for her, sitting on her couch only waiting to be taken by her. She felt like a hormonal teenager at the thought of how easily you had started to affect her. She wasn't exactly a playboy, but she'd seen and been with her fair share of women in her life, yet the simple sight of you, sitting while turned towards her, showing off your legs and hips and chest, only made her mouth drier the more she drank. She had downed her glass in one go by the time her eyes were able to leave your body and, in the brief seconds that seemed to have lasted hours, she had been able to explore every inch of you she could have laid her gaze on, leaving her only wanting for more.

“Would you like to talk for a bit?”

Your words, spoken so casually in contrast to her almost spiraling thoughts, pulled her eyes to your face. You were smiling politely, yet sincerely, at her. You almost felt bad for putting an end to the amusing sight of her getting herself more and more flustered, but you selfishly needed to, if not to know more about her, at least to get started as soon as possible. You were hoping that your poker face was good enough to only display your faux calmness and hide the turmoil of emotions you were feeling at being face to face with her, so close you would’ve been able to feel her touch if only you moved your leg one small bit.

“Do you usually do that?”

She tried to regain what composure she had left by trying to engage in the casual chatting you had initiated as she leaned to put down her empty glass on the coffee table. You had declined her polite offer for a drink of your own, but started to regret your decision at her husky voice and the sight of her sharp jawline and lean neck getting exposed as she moved to settle down the expensive glass, making you feel your cheeks getting slightly warmer and your heartbeat faster for a second.

“It's not necessary, it's just to let you know that we can, if you want. And yes, apparently, a little ramble can help destress just as much”

By the time you had finished speaking, a smirk was gracing her lips, making her appearance seem much closer to the usual confident one you had always seen in her pictures and wiping away almost all traces of the small, brief panic you had just gotten a glimpse of.

“So they treat you like a therapist”

You couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at the exact same words uttered by multiple of your friends in the past. She was right, though. Surprisingly enough, one of the main skills you absolutely needed to have, and that your agent couldn’t stop reminding you of at first, was that of listening. Keeping updated on the news, always reading and being able to hold a proper conversation were definitely important, but never as critical as always being willing to listen for as long as needed and to indulge in any issue presented. It didn’t matter how much you didn’t care or what pieces of shits were talking to you, their problems were the greatest ones in the world and the only ones a simple girl like you could’ve ever had on her mind. Or at least that’s what they needed to believe.

“Sometimes. I guess that they like therapy with a little more kick at the end of the session”

You tried to be just a little more playful, hoping to get her to relax and feel like she could open up in case she wanted to. Her brief chuckle warmed your heart at its unrestrained nature and made it impossible for you to keep yourself from ogling at her as she swiftly ran her hand through her gray hair to get it back out of her face after she had briefly lost her composure. Her attention was back on your face as she found you beaming at her with your lower lip caught in your teeth to try, in vain, to hold back a big smile that threatened to come out at her beauty. A strange mix of sweet hunger, so tender it almost weirded her out, started to come to the surface as her eyes locked with your young and almost innocent ones, as alluring as the most dangerous siren's. If she had to be honest, she kind of felt like an asshole for wanting to jump right into the more intimate part of the night, overlooking your kind offer to let her vent, but got reassured once she finally noticed your slightly quickened breathing and fingers fidgeting with your dress as you leaned towards her a little bit.

“It’s been a pretty rough week. Thank you for coming”

She tried to acknowledge your availability while she was still in full control of her own mind, because now she knew that, as soon as she would have gotten a taste of you, she wouldn’t have been able to stop herself anymore.

“Don’t worry about that. I’m happy to be here if it means I can help you out”

You tried so hard to keep your voice from trembling too pathetically and ignore her darkening eyes boring into you, but the heavenly sight in front of you, and the slight straining in her pants, only made your cheeks grow warmer at the excitement you tried to contain that made you feel like a foolish schoolgirl.

“What can I do, Ms Romanoff?”

Her jaw clenched as your hand gently fell on a way too safe spot on her thigh, right above her knee, miles away from where you both truly wanted it to get.

“You can call me Natasha”

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from your lips, slightly apart, a sign of your collected stance starting to crumble, that only called her more intensely as you wet them before unconsciously biting your lower one as anticipation ate you up more and more, making your hand slightly tighten on her thigh.

“What do you want me to do, Natasha?”

This time, as you almost whispered the words, your weak gaze succumbed to the seduction of her lips as she slowly inched closer to you, hoping to get rid of the space cruelly dividing you two and finally get lost in the pleasure she so desperately wanted to reach. In that moment she felt as if she needed nothing more than the feeling of your lips on hers, even though she knew that as soon as her favor would have been granted she wouldn’t have been able to stop herself from trying to get more and more of you. She had almost reached her final destination, her gates to heaven, when you suddenly turned your head a little bit, making her lips land on the corner of your mouth. She couldn’t stop a deep grumble from coming to the surface, but barely had the time to feel the initial frustration of being denied what she wanted, before you hand moved in the direction of her center, still way too far away for her liking, but close enough for the warmth of your skin through the fabric on her to make her twitch in her pants, and your lips started gently kissing her neck, leaving her even more in need of some relief, if that was even possible. Her panting in your ear as your hand moved closer and closer to where she needed it the most made goosebumps grow on your arms and you couldn’t stop a muffled whimper in her neck when she grasped your waist with one hand, touching you for the first time. You wanted, no, needed to feel her, but, for the sake of teasing her some more, you swiftly skipped her crotch to sneak your hand under her sweater and touch her bare stomach, pathetically mewling against her throat at the way her hand moved under your ass to pull you even closer to her, making you almost sit in her lap. You were both a panting mess and, after some wiggling and squirming from her trying to keep herself from ripping your dress with her bare hands, you ended up fully on top of her, straddling her lap while still on your knees, resisting her hands on your hips trying to make you properly sit on her clothed erection. It was only once she finally gave up and ended up moving downward to bunch your dress over your hips and grab your ass that you finally fully sat down on her, letting her feel your covered center on her.

“Fuck!”

Her voice and the buck of her hips into you sent a strong shiver through your whole body and a pang of arousal in your lower stomach. Leaning your forehead against hers, you looked deep into her eyes as you grounded your hips into her hard on, starting with a low rhythm that easily got the older woman panting and desperately grabbing your hips to try to make your movements quicken. The rough surface of her boxers and your underwear did wonders at heightening the pleasure you both already felt and in no time you could feel the fabric against yourself dampening up from your arousal, thanks to the way her covered cock perfectly hit your clit.

The sudden movement of her arms, slithering around your torso to keep you from moving away, and her hips thrusting more and more up into you, made you take pity on her and you finally started gradually speeding up your movements. The moan she let out once you grounded harder into her took your breath away and got a louder one out of you at the hard grasp of her hands on your waist, making you lose track of the speed of your own hips, seemingly moving on their own accord to only make you both feel as good as possible. The older woman found herself enamored at the sinful sight of the black fabric of your underwear glistening a bit under the warm light of her living room and creating a small damp patch on her pants. For a second she couldn’t help but find herself wondering if your displays of pure bliss were genuine or if she was witnessing a thoroughly curated act you used with all of your clients, but she decided to trust you and the whiny moans coming from deep within you and solidly planted her feet on the ground to easily thrust up into you and meet your movements.

The almost animalistic way in which you were dry humping each other was making you lose your mind, even more so at the other woman cursing under her breath and the sudden slap she landed on your ass, making you moan loudly as your head fell back, exposing your neck to her and making it hard for her to respect your no marking rule and latch onto the soft skin she suddenly needed to taste. Natasha completely lost her composure at the sight of your face, a perfect display of pure ecstasy, and you hips erratically moving to take your own pleasure from her and got a hold of your hips in a way that definitely must’ve hurt a bit, but maybe not as much as she thought, according to your breathless moan at the action, to press you even harder on her, getting herself impossibly close to her orgasm.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum”

She was looking at your center moving over her clothed cock once her panting words got your attention to her face and, finally wanting to indulge her initial wish you still hadn’t granted her, you moved one of your hands from her shoulders to the nape of her neck, getting her attention back on you, and leaned in, stopping for a second and only a breath away, before finally pressing your lips on hers, making her moan in the kiss at finally being able to taste you, even if only for a moment. The hard orgasm hit her so hard she had to move away to lean her head back, closing her eyes at the high levels of ecstasy you made her reach, and grunt loudly every time her hips thrusted up hard into you on their own accord while shooting string after string of cum into her own underwear. The sinfully beautiful sight of her face as she came and the veins of her neck, more defined than ever, sent a painful twinge of arousal to your core as you moved more and more slowly over her as she came down from her orgasm, stopping only once she hissed at her sensitive cock meeting your center with one final thrust of hers.

“Holy shit”

Her head was still leaning back on the edge of the couch and her eyes were still closed as she murmured the words, but she opened them once you pressed one last kiss to her lips, looking more inviting than necessary as she breathed through them while she caught her breath. For a second she found herself lost in the sight of your exposed lower half, clad only by a black thong that barely covered your core and traces of clear slick on the inside of your thighs. Your chest was about to spill out of your dress as you heaved, your hair was a bit messier than earlier and your hands were still tightly gripping her shoulders for dear life and that’s when she realized, after her post orgasm haziness started disappearing, that you hadn’t cum yet.

One of her hands finally left its death grip on your hips, leaving behind a delicious ache on your skin, as she reached for your face to swipe her thumb over your warm cheek before gently cradling it and leaning in to peck your lips, waiting for your approval of her action and receiving it at the slight drag of your tongue over her lower one. As soon as she opened her mouth you were on her, kissing her with all your might and threading your fingers through her glorious hair to make sure to keep her as close as possible. You were still on edge from the high levels of arousal still pumping intensely through you and, as they blurred your mind, also thanks to her tongue easily dominating yours, they prevented you from registering her movements, which you noticed only by the time she had positioned you just how she wanted.

You ended up straddling her, as she now lay down on the couch, while you still made out like your life depended on it and your hips unconsciously tried to find some relief by slowly moving over her lower abdomen. She soon ceased your movements, though, and gently started pushing you from the back of your thighs until you had wiggled closer and closer to her face. Standing on your knees while hovering over her torso, the sight of her lips, swollen by the intense kissing and almost curled into a small smirk, and her hands gently caressing your thighs almost made them buckle at the imminent moment. For a second, all the hints of playfulness were gone from her eyes and got replaced by hard seriousness, as she nodded once at you and waited for your own nod of approval, that tried unsuccessfully to hide your enthusiasm and need, before smiling softly at you. It's only once she had made sure that you were fine with her wish that she slithered down a bit until you were right by her neck, close enough for her to smell the arousal that you couldn't contain anymore. You were driving her insane and, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling in her pants from her previous orgasm and her still semi hard cock, she slowly started moving her hands over your body, over your thighs, your ass, your back, until she was swiftly moving your soaked underwear to the side, moaning at the sight of your exposed pussy and the fabric briefly sticking to it because of your wetness. You looked like a dream to her, looking down at her with pure anticipation as you tried to keep your breathing at bay, and all she needed in that moment was only to see you crumble just for her.

Her hands finally got back to the apex of your thigh and, after taking a secure hold on both of them, she gave one small push to make you lower yourself on her. She knew what you wanted and she wanted it too, all of it immediately, but the smooth skin of your inner thighs, still glistening, did nothing but made you look like an absolute goddess to her, and who was she to deprive you of the adequate worship you deserved? Once her lips left a small peck on your soft skin, still close enough to your center to make your hips buckle a little and your breathing hitch, the older woman's hunger got the best of her and, while still trying to control herself enough to unfortunately leave no trace of herself behind, she got lost in the plumpness of your inner thighs. She would've gladly spent hours kissing and very lightly scraping her teeth over the velvety skin if it meant hearing you yelp over and over as you tried to keep yourself upright.

Your mind was foggy and all you needed to clear it was her mouth just a bit higher. You knew at least a part of her was trying to get you to your breaking point, but she thankfully stopped her cruel actions once your hand suddenly flew to her hair to try to keep yourself standing, getting her attention to your closed eyes and shaky breathing. Natasha wished she could've said that the reason behind her stopping her torturous teasing was to indulge you in the pleasure you deserved, but the truth was that the selfish need to see you broken because of her was way too intense for her to keep herself back any longer.

The moment her lips left your skin you felt some sort of relief at being able to properly breath once again, but almost missed her teasing once she immediately dove into your pussy, drawing a breathy moan out of you before you could contain yourself.

“Fuck, you taste good”

Natasha couldn't help herself from briefly overlooking your pleasure to randomly explore your core as she pleased, getting hungrier each time she discovered a new spot that got your thighs trembling over her. She was the thirstiest woman on the planet and you were the most gratifying oasis she could've asked to encounter. For the first time in your career, you felt embarrassed of the extreme pleasure you were feeling and its unrestrained displays you could barely contain, but the swift movements of her tongue and lips, clear sign of someone who knew very well what they were doing, were getting you way too close to your peak in such a short period of time. By the time she gave some mercy to your clit and moved downwards to enter your aching hole with her tongue, her nose bumped right on your sensitive bean, making it impossible for you to stop your hips from slightly moving over her face to heighten the heavenly feeling. You tried to keep your loud moans at bay by biting down on your index finger, but foolishly defeated yourself by looking down at the older woman, finding her hooded eyes already on you, as she moaned against your folds and tightened her hold on your thighs at the sight of your watery, desperate eyes, drawing a loud whine deep from you.

You wanted more, you needed more, so you suddenly lifted yourself off of her, ignoring her frustrated grunt, to turn around and place yourself back over her lips before immediately starting to unbutton her pants, hearing her sighing and cursing to herself at the prospect of your touch directly on her. Her sticky boxers were an absolute mess, and you tried to ignore her mouthwatering cum on them to get her cock fully free from the fabric. The woman under you, resuming her mission to make you cum, finally got your attention away from her length standing proud in front of you. You tried to distract yourself from your impending peak by finally wrapping your hand around her and licking the clear precum oozing out of the head of her cock, feeling her moaning right against you at the small bits of stimulation you were giving her. You truly realized you had been lazily sucking her head for quite a bit, your mind completely taken over by her perfect ministrations between your legs, only once her hands tightened their hold on your thighs so much you were sure there was definitely going to be at least some bruising the next day, and she couldn’t hold back her groans anymore, shooting such delicious sparkles of pleasure through you thanks to the vibrations of her voice on your core. You wished you could have pleased her in a much better way with your mouth, selfishly wanting to feel her in your throat as well, but the orgasm that was seconds away from crashing down on you finally made it impossible for you to hold back your moans, making your composure crumble once and for all and finally gracing her ears with such heavenly sounds that quickly got her equally close even without your touch on her anymore. You finally snapped for the first time of the night with her tongue on your clit and her hands almost ripping your expensive, flimsy underwear in half as she tightly held it to pull you even more flush against her mouth, so desperate to taste your heavenly essence she would’ve almost felt embarrassed for it if she was in any way in her right mind.

Your legs were shaky and, anytime you thought you had finally caught your breath, the sight of her hard cock in front of your face, right on the brink of another orgasm, made the air get caught in your throat all over again at its sight gracing your no longer fogged up eyes, now able to properly appreciate it. You had to be the one to stop Natasha, still lazily tasting as much of you as she could, and lift yourself off of her, muffling an almost whiny sound of frustration of hers with a quick kiss, which you deepened as you grabbed the neck of her sweater to make her move to a sitting position. One of her hands immediately moved to your chest and finally indulged herself, groping your boob a bit more firmly the more you hummed in the kiss at the beautiful sensation of being wanted by her. Feeling her trying to pull you in more and more to make you sit back in her lap, right over her thigh, you unfortunately had to break the perfect kiss.

“I wanna make you cum”

Your sweet voice and pretty eyes as you mumbled the words while looking up at her made her twitch at the mere thought of her cum possibly painting your skin and you could almost see the thoughts quickly racing behind her eyes as she decided where exactly she wanted to do it. Your pretty face admittedly looked just too inviting for it, the thought having graced her mind only moments after you greeted her at the door, but her thoughts couldn’t stop from going back to the sinful sight of your cleavage so perfectly on display for her yet still way too covered for her liking. Without uttering a word she reached for your back to slowly pull down the small zipper while leaving pecks over the top of your chest and collarbone, slowing her moving hand every time you shakily gasped in order to never stop hearing the beautiful noises you made that went straight to her cock each time.

“I wanna fuck these tits”

Her words, spoken more to herself than to you, only drove you more insane for her and clouded your mind as she pushed you to lie on the couch, leaning over you between your legs as she hurriedly pulled your dress down and took off your bra. She left the dress below your torso, not bothering to slip the now useless fabric fully off of you, and leaving it bunched at your waist to expose your chest and core to her. She wouldn't have had the chance to do it even if she wanted to, as her cock bumped with your naked center every time she moved while hungrily kissing your boobs. Your hand on her head as she sucked your nipple got her attention to your beautiful face as you looked at her with hooded eyes while biting your lip. That was it, she couldn't keep herself back anymore, she needed to cum and she needed to do it all over you right then and there.

Your heart skipped a beat as she moved over you to straddle your torso and took your breath away at her beauty as she loomed over you and let her spit fall on her cock before pumping it. You couldn't help but stare in awe at the lewd action, making her hum at you staring at her lips with your mouth open.

“Now that's interesting”

Your slightly embarrassed look at her new discovery only amused her even more and, gently holding your chin, she managed to haze your already obedient mind even more as she spoke once again.

“Open up”

You immediately opened your mouth and pushed your tongue out a little, waiting with closed eyes to be graced by the goddess on top of you, but felt slight disappointment when her hand ended up leaving your face and she chuckled through her nose.

“Maybe later”

Damn her. You shot your eyes open at her words and you couldn't help but pout slightly, before reluctantly nodding obediently at her, secretly savoring the “good girl” coming from her perfect lips. You couldn't even fathom the power the older woman already had over you and could only lay limp to let her position her cock between your boobs before grabbing each one and pressing them on either side of her own length. The moment her hips began to move and she threw her head back with a loud moan your breath was knocked away from you and you were left to stare in awe at her beautiful face taken over by pleasure and the sight of her cock moving on your chest, looking way too delicious to ignore. She knew she was barely going to last seconds, but she felt no embarrassment as her mind was completely taken over by ecstasy. Seeing your tongue out, waiting for the head of her cock every time she thrusted forward, almost got her to her breaking point and your eyes meeting hers, beaming at her as she took her own pleasure from your body, finally made her reach her peak. As soon as her orgasm suddenly hit her she quickly pumped her cock with her hand to finally shoot her cum all over your tits, groaning as you intently kept looking at her as she breathlessly moaned each time more of the white fluid hit your skin.

She felt almost shocked by just how hard she came, certainly the hardest in a very long time, but barely had the time to recover at all before the sight of you scooping some of her cum from your boob with your fingers and sucking them clean with a languid moan left her speechless.

It was going to be a long long night…and hopefully the beginning of an even longer acquaintance.

Part 3

Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox @dmenby3100 @marvels--slut @dvrkhcld @elenimoris @mrsrushman @mrsromanoff @thalia-is-not-ok @alianovnasposts @clintsupremacy @taliiiaasteria @meowymari @lissaaaa145 @natashaswife4125 @olsenmyolsen @angrywhisperslove @aemilia19

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff smut #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #black widow smut #marvel #mcu

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jaythes1mp · 4 months ago

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Hi can you please make a yandere batfam meeting a merfolk reader or what your headcanonns on how that would go especially if reader is willing to stay and maybe even help with the more aquatic stuff of vigilante work

Definitely! This is some general stuff, a link to the chapter once I’ve written it will be added at the end. If everyone could please cast votes for what you’d rather before I start writing it, would be great!

Anon, I know your initial ask wasn’t really a request, but I want to write this. Haha… hope you don’t mind.

Yandere Batfam x Merfolk Reader

In the early stages of your involvement with the BatFamily, when their obsessions with you are just beginning to form, they would seek out your assistance in their crime fighting endeavours. This is under the assumption that you’re already a well known vigilante of sorts. Their obsession growing after they encounter and become acquainted with you. Learning of your skills, and how your kind can help them if any villains were to take their fight to the water surrounding Gotham’s edges.

But once the Bat's obsession has matured into a deep, twisted fascination, they would never allow you near the battlefield. Their possessive nature would take over, and they would be unable to bear the thought of you being hurt or even fighting others. Even if you were incredibly powerful, their protective instincts would render it moot the moment they have their possessive grasp on you, effectively ending your crime fighting days.

However, if you were not affiliated with any vigilante work from the beginning, the BatFamily would never even entertain the idea. Their fixation would target you on a personal level, rather than the dynamic of needing crime fighting assistance.

They might encounter you under various circumstances, such as: (numbered 1,2,3,4.)

By chance along Gotham’s shores, accidentally stumbling upon you.

You were caught in a trap, leading to your capture and confinement at Wayne Enterprises research facility. <- my favourite

One of the Bat’s had suffered an injury that sent them plummeting deep into the waters of Gotham, but just as they’re about to loose consciousness you swim them up to the surface. Saving them.

Or you may take the initiative on your own accord, reeling in one of the batfamily for either help or sustenance. The rest of the family coming to the rescue only to learn that you’re non threatening, and that the chosen member is cuddling into your side.

They would grow unhealthily fixated on you. Attached. Every aspect of your appearance and your mysterious species would fascinate them. The thought alone that you could survive in the harsh dangerous waters of Gotham without Bruce’s high-tech equipment ever detecting your existence baffling them. This would spark a curiosity turned obsession that would drive them to uncover everything about you, no matter the cost. Their intrigue shifting into a deeper, twisted form of love.

Initially, they would design a high-tech enclosure for you at the Wayne Manor, meticulously crafted to provide everything you need to thrive and more. Which you willingly enter, unaware that you’re under their watchful eyes, who monitor your every move, their fascination growing.

Under the vigilante route, where you’ve allied yourself with the family, you would move to the manor to discuss and plan out operations aimed at capturing and stopping a villain who was terrorising the city. Your presence there would foster a bond between you, as they relied on your skills and knowledge to aid them.

Voluntarily travelling there to discuss plans and strategies to combat with the villain and future perpetrators who has target Gotham.

Versus the ‘found’ routes, where you’d go because you trust them.

1 & 4 -> You would go to the Wayne Manor intrigued and fascinated to explore an entirely new place. Having only known of Gotham’s currents before, the thought of learning about human culture piques your interest. Contrary to the ominous warnings from the Elder Mers, these humans have been nothing but kind. They haven’t tried to harm you in any way, neither confining you in cages nor cutting you up to consume you, nor taking your scales. The Elder Mers must have misled you! The BatFamily is proving to be nothing but sweet and welcoming. What’s the harm in staying with them for a little while? You’re sure your clan won’t even realise that you’re gone.

2 -> You would either have no choice in the matter, as you were considered the Wayne’s property under the public’s eyes, Or you would leave under a negotiation with one of them. Desperate to escape from the constant scrutiny of the scientists who eye you as nothing more than a piece of meat. Their tests leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable, had become unbearable, with the small transparent tank doing nothing to offer you comfort or refuge. A public spectacle being observed daily by prying eyes. You’d do anything to never have to become an experiment for these humans ever again.

3 -> They would invest months, devoting themselves to understanding your life, gradually winning you over with their kindness. Persuading you to reciprocate their efforts by visiting the enclosure they had meticulously designed specifically for you. You were fascinated by their accomplishment, having built a structure that seamlessly connected to every room within their manor. Slowly you visited more often, their efforts touching you deeply. They had created this for you. Maybe humans weren’t all bad…

Whichever route you take, the end result is the same; they become deeply, unhealthily obsessed with you. Having them hold you captive, their obsession transforming into an intense, lasting fixation. They would have no intention of ever letting you go, keeping you confined in their carefully crafted webs, for the rest of your life, never permitting you to escape their grasp. Their desire for you becoming all-consuming, forever entrapping you within their influence.

Please vote for which of them you’d like to see most!

Romantic or platonic? Tell me in the comments or anon asks, please.

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loganhowlettshousewife · 8 days ago

Text

animal

chapter 2

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: mentions of blood

series masterlist │my masterlist

you wake up slowly, blinking sluggishly at the ceiling. your memories of the previous day come rushing in, and you can’t help but wonder if it was all some kind of fever dream. but when you sit up in bed, that thought is immediately thrown away, because logan is curled up on the floor watching you, staring.

“how long have you been awake?” you ask, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. he just tilts his head, listening but giving you no indication of the answer to your question.

you’d set him up in the guest bedroom last night. he had laid down on top of the covers, the same way he was positioned on your floor now, and though you had wanted to pull the covers over his body, you decided to let him do what was most comfortable, most natural, to him. you had already thrown quite a bit of new his way, best to let him process it all.

you don’t know at what point he’d migrated from the guest room to your floor, but he’s here now. he had been watching you sleep. a wave of anxiety washes over you - what do you look like when you sleep? do you drool? is it unattractive?

(they’re certainly not the thoughts you should be having when a man you hardly know watches you sleep, but he’s hot and oddly endearing.)

he rises up to his feet only seconds after you, and you have to tell him not to follow you into the bathroom, to which he growls.

later, you’re sitting at the table with logan, eating the breakfast you’d cooked up. you had to teach him how to use a fork, which was terribly entertaining, and even now he looks dismayed at not being able to eat with his hands, having to pick up the food with a metal instrument instead. he stabs the fork loudly every time he brings it down, as if to communicate his disapproval, but he doesn’t look truly angry, just pouty.

“are you going to follow me around all day again?” you ask, “because i don’t mind, but i just wanted to let you know that i have quite a few things on my to-do list.”

he stops eating, stares at you for a few seconds, nods, and then continues as if you hadn’t spoken.

one of your favourite parts of living outside of a city is the nature, the space, the green that surrounds you with your favourite thing: plants. your grandmother had taken care of a gorgeous garden of fruits and vegetables and herbs for as long as you could remember, teaching a starry-eyed child version of you everything she knew. you’re the one left with the responsibility now.

you clean the dishes, humming to yourself, logan behind you, and when you’re done, you lead him outside. you bask in the sunlight of the outdoors, each step in the dewy grass a thrill. there’s a morning chill in the air, the new-day sun having not quite warmed your surroundings yet.

you remind logan to be careful of where he steps, talking him through your long list of things for him not to do, so lost in the one-sided conversation that you don’t even notice when he stops before the garden starts. you look back at him, confused that he’s not trailing you anymore, but he doesn’t leave either, he just sits down on the grass.

a warmth blooms in your chest. you don’t know his thoughts or his intentions, but you want to think he stopped because he could tell how much you didn’t want him messing with the plants, your domain, the happy place of your childhood.

the best part about assuming these things about logan is that he can’t correct you, so you can create a little version of him in your head that thinks about you and looks at you the way you look at him. it’s been two days - not even, it’s been a day and a half. could you be any more pathetically starved of love and affection?

well, no, you think to yourself.

it doesn’t take you long to finish up the watering and weeding, checking around for any more problems that you might not catch at first glance. you take your time harvesting what you can, placing it all in two cute woven baskets you brought out with you.

you’re already thinking of the food you could make for logan, giddy with excitement at finally getting to feed someone other than yourself. you love taking care of others, it’s one of your love languages, or maybe it’s just a way for you to feel needed in the hopes that people won’t leave you if you do enough for them. either way, you’ve always genuinely enjoyed cooking, but you can’t do it as much when there’s only one person in the house to feed.

and logan had eaten a lot, last night. he’s big, of course, it’s to be expected, but you suppose you haven’t been close enough with anyone to share food in a while, so it’s strange.

when you return to logan’s side, smiling brightly, he smiles back at you. it’s the first smile you’ve seen on his face, the first expression other than a snarl, a look of confusion, or the expressionless stare he directs towards you. and wow, it lights up his features, turns everything soft, like the world has blurred just slightly, the kind of unclear image that tells you you’re in a dream.

“you’re pretty when you smile,” you say without meaning to. but with the way he brightens even more at the praise, purring in contentment, you don’t regret it.

he doesn’t do much the entire day, just follows you as you go through your list of chores. he’s always careful not to get in your way.

by evening, you can feel the pent-up energy and tension inside him, but he’s so good at pretending it isn’t there that you’re sure you wouldn’t have noticed if not for having seen him when he was truly relaxed. you feel guilty, cooping him up inside when there’s clearly some part of him that’s feral, making him act more like an animal than human like you.

you don’t live the most exciting life, it’s not fast-paced and entertaining and it definitely doesn’t keep you on your toes guessing what might happen next. you prefer the quiet, the comfort of a familiar routine, doing domestic chores and reading by the fireplace. it’s monotonous, but it’s something you can rely on, something that won’t change on you.

logan longs for something your life can’t provide.

he’s gazing out the open windows, at the forest from which you’d first seen him emerge, something in his eyes that you can’t decipher. and you realise that maybe you can give him what he needs. you live out in the middle of nowhere, animals roaming free in those woods, far from other people. in between two worlds, just like logan.

“you know you don’t have to follow me all the time,” you say gently, meeting him by the window, “nothing will happen if you go outside for a while. you can go, run free, and i’ll be here when you come back.”

he contemplates for a while and you wait, patient, hoping you come across as reassuring, that he knows you’re being genuine. it’s funny to think that when you first saw him you’d wanted him to leave.

he does go, eventually, after going through the entire house and sniffing around like he was searching for some kind of threat. so you sit on your couch with a book and a cup of tea, reading about silly little characters falling in love.

when logan comes back he’s shirtless, smelling of sweat and musk, chest heaving. he looks the best you’ve ever seen him, and not just because the sweat is making his skin glisten and you can see his perfect abs. something about him has changed, though it's not something physical. he didn’t have to hold back, was able to release all the tension you know must have been clinging to him since yesterday, or even longer. (you still don’t know his backstory.)

he curls up on the other side of the couch to you, and you spend the rest of the night with a hand in his hair, scratching his head occasionally to listen to his pleased purrs.

a week goes by and you fall into somewhat of a routine. logan clings to you less, though he still prefers to be in the same room as you most of the time. he goes out into the forest to run and sometimes to hunt, coming back with blood staining his clothes.

although the first few tries failed miserably, you’ve gotten quite good at removing bloodstains from fabric, which is not a skill you ever imagined yourself perfecting.

it’s been a while since your last visit to town, and you need to go pick up a few things, not just for yourself but for logan too.

“logan,” you call for him as you’re grabbing a few last things to throw in your bag. he bounds up to you as usual. sometimes he reminds you so much of a cute puppy that you get the urge to pet him and call him “good boy” but you don’t know how he would take that, so you refrain.

“i need to leave for a bit,” you say, “just like how you leave sometimes. i’ll be back soon, just need to get a few things.”

he grumbles and pouts as you leave but doesn’t stop you. he does stare longingly at you from through the window, you catch the sight as you’re driving out.

the closest town to your house is small, but it has all the necessities. you pick up some groceries, things you can’t make or grow yourself. and then you need to get clothes for logan. you had eyed his measurements, taking note of the size of his body, though you didn’t know them exactly. it’s still better than him continuing to wear clothes that don’t fit him.

although most days he prefers not to wear a shirt. because he wants to torture you, clearly.

it’s a good kind of torture, the kind that produces butterflies in your stomach and brings heat to your face. you try not to ogle him, not wanting to objectify him or make him uncomfortable, but when he catches you staring he only ever comes closer, pressing up against you.

you could have brought him with you, but you weren’t sure it was a good idea. he’s a mutant, you guessed that pretty quickly on the first night, and people aren’t very kind to mutants. especially small-minded, small-town folks. and though logan’s appearance isn’t damning on its own, his behaviours clearly show the animal side of him.

he doesn’t need to deal with awful people and their awful comments. you want to protect him from that as much as you can.

you normally take your time meandering around the town, stopping at your favourite bookstore to pick up some new reads, grabbing a horribly overpriced coffee as a treat, maybe even sitting on a bench in the park, enjoying your drink and novel as you watch children run around and play, parents shouting after them, dogs barking in excitement.

but today, you itch to return home. there’s a tight feeling in your chest, a loneliness you haven’t felt in a long time, and it calls out logan’s name, pleading for you to return to him. you still stop by the bookstore, and if you’re more attracted towards the romance novels with a supernatural, animalistic love interest this time around, that’s for you and the cashier who rings you up to know.

you’re beaming when you return home, parking the car and grabbing your bags to bring them inside. your smile falters when logan doesn’t greet you at the door. you peak into the living room to find it empty as well.

it saddens you, but you assume he went out into the forest for a while. it makes sense that he wouldn’t want to stay cooped up in the house with nothing to entertain him while you were gone. you had formed a scenario in your mind where logan would rush towards you when you returned, like a puppy who missed his owner.

when you finish putting away your groceries, you head towards your bedroom. pushing the door open, you freeze, mouth parted and eyes going soft at the sight that greets you.

logan is curled up in your bed, fast asleep in the spot where you always sleep, face buried in your pillow. he’s under the blankets for once, and they curl around his shape to wrap him up in soft warmth.

you tip-toe towards the bed, careful not to wake him. you don’t know how long he’s been sleeping, and you wish you had a way to play back the scene of him crawling into your bed, untucking the sheets to slip under them, sniffing the bed to find the spot where he knew you slept, the place that smelled the most like you.

oh, you adore him.

it’s fast, terribly so, but he’s wormed his way into your heart. it’s not love yet, but you think you could grow to love him someday.

you sit on the bed, moving over until you’re by logan’s side. he looks so peaceful like this, and you bring your hand to his head, intending to give him the scratches he loves so much, when he wakes suddenly.

the next thing you know, you’re on your back, logan on top of you, claws at your neck. you blink up at him, everything happening so quickly that your brain hasn’t had time to catch up and tell you to scream or struggle or anything else one would typically do when you have sharp blades pointed at your throat.

it doesn’t matter, because logan’s eyes meet yours, and his claws retract into his knuckles. you relax into the mattress, leftover fear dissipating because you know he won’t hurt you. he was surprised, that’s all, and really you should know better than to sneak up on someone with clear, obvious trauma.

his lips twitch up for barely a second, not quite reaching a smile, and then his expression darkens as he leans forward to sniff you. he growls, a deep rumble in his throat, shoving his face into your neck.

you can feel the vibrations through your body from the proximity between you and logan. it’s different from when he purrs in your ear and you feel as though the sound penetrates your skin, finding its way into your bloodstream, forcing your heartbeat faster.

something’s wrong, you can tell. you’ve never seen him react to you this way. so you bring your arms up to wrap around his midsection, hands on his back, slow movements not to startle him.

“what’s wrong?” you ask in a gentle whisper, “did something happen while i was away.”

there’s another growl as he sniffs you again. he pushes his body closer to yours, chest to chest, one of his legs between yours.

“mine,” logan says, followed by him pressing his face in your neck and licking and sucking at the skin. you gasp and squirm under him, but you don’t want him to stop, not really.

your mind is reeling. he spoke. a real word, one you recognise, passing through his lips, floating in the air between you. his voice is smooth, nothing like you expected, and yet it suits him.

you laugh. you can’t help it, you’re giddy. he pulls back when you laugh, still frowning, but you don’t care. the word is repeating in your head. “mine”, he’d called you, staking his claim both verbally as well as physically marking you as his. it’s terrible, you’ve known him only a week, yet you feel all warm and fuzzy, the room around you like a mirage. the only things that exist are you and logan and that word.

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff

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