#I don't share about it here because I don't want to make this space too negative

[forthefictionallesbians]

Andy stared pointedly into the glowing eyes of the affini sharing her table, daring them to prove her right. It would be an easy victory for "Wisteria Salashi, Fourth Bloom," should she decide to take it. Andy was under no illusions about her ability to resist any of the countless tools Wisteria had at her disposal--the xenodrugs, the hypnosis, even just prolonged exposure to her biorhythm. But if she could count on anything, it was her domineering friend's pride. That was the game, and she was winning.

Wisteria just sighed, the scarlet vines composing her chest folding inwards slightly along with the loud exhalation. All five of the eyes embedded in her "face" closed, and one titanic hand reached up to rub the bridge of her not-nose. It was a shockingly human gesture. Proof of how far Wisteria had come since moving into terran space.

"What's wrong, Wist? Afraid of showing your empire's true colours?" She tried her best to sound innocent, and failed. Each word dripped with the smirk slowly pulling at her lips. Behind her friend, a set of floret servers in overly cutesy orange-and-pink floral dresses had paused their rounds to gape. A few of the diner's other patrons, humans and affini alike, had also glanced after hearing the sigh. No matter. Witnesses would just make the victory all the sweeter.

"Really, Andy? You're taunting me with a feralist talking point?" Wist's response came slowly, as she completed her exasperated display and stared down at Andy with disbelief and... hunger? "You do understand that I could use that as a reason to domesticate you, without violating your rights as an independent at all?"

Ooops. "Ah, but we both know I don't really believe that," she retorted in a sudden flash of anxiety.

"Then why, dearest acorn, did you think this was a good idea?"

Her mind reeled slightly. What did Wist mean? It felt like the whole impulsive plan was crumbling around her. But she had known why she'd pushed when she had. This had seemed like a good idea then. Frost and fire, it could still be a good idea. She just had to make it work, and then she would finally be the winner in their daily sparring matches. Time to dig in.

"If you're so frustrated by this, then what's stopping you from domesticating me?" Wisteria's eyes were unreadable, dazzling ovals that seemed to dance as Andy resumed glaring. That wasn't fair. Hers couldn't do that. And they were so beautiful. And deep. And wow. Wisteria blinked with a slight chuckle, forcibly breaking their eye contact for a second. Wha- right. Andy continued. "I know you want to, so desperately. It's why you come here every day. And all that's stopping you is my explicit lack of consent." She folded her arms over her chest, the sleeves of her jacket making a satisfying rustle as a flared nose finished her picture of defiance.

Wisteria leaned forwards, towering over Andy as she closed the distance. The expression on her face had turned distinctly predatory. Andy yelped despite herself, before returning to her best facsimile of resoluteness. "Do you want me to domesticate you?"

The way her voice squeaked in response was horrifically undignified. "N- no! No, I don't! I-"

She was cut off by a purred pronouncement, silenced by the forest of thorny teeth curling into a cruel smile. "You've been coming here too, little one. Every day, just to meet with me. I think you do want it."

"You- you can't! Unless you break the rules! Which-"

"Which means you win? Because you've proved I don't care about them?" Her voice rolled like sap, slow and irresistible. Andy had the horrible feeling that she had messed up somehow. "Isn't it cute that the only way for you to win is on my leash?"

Frost. Frost frost frost frost. How had this gotten so out of hand?

"It's almost like you want me to take you."

Maybe she could still pull this together? Not be the flustered one for once in her storming life?

"To wrap my vines around your neck and never let go."

No. She didn't want that. Didn't she? Wisteria was so close, her eyes were so bright. The rest of the restaurant had stopped existing.

"Turning you into my little pet, my little plaything, forever and ever."

She was blinking so fast. It didn't help. Her mind was filling with that light.

And then it was gone. Andy shuddered, confused, the world slowly fading back in. What had happened? Wisteria was sitting back, leaning away from her, a satisfied expression on her beautiful face. The glow in her eyes had faded, and they were back to their normal burnished sheen. Part of Andy twinged in disappointment at that. But that didn't matter. As memories slowly folded back into her mind, she realized she'd lost. Again. Frost, she was hopeless.

"It's funny, you know?" Wisteria was speaking. Andy's head whipped up towards them, gaze refocusing.

"Wuh-- huh?" Eloquence had always been once of her strong suits.

"You could already be my floret, domesticated and then hypnotized to not remember it. And you would have no idea." Wisteria wasn't even looking at her while talking, focusing instead on swirling an oversized glass of some affini beverage. If Andy wasn't so busy panicking, she would have found the image strikingly beautiful.

Full consciousness crashed back in an instant, mind returning and immediately flying into overdrive. "I'm not, am I?" Andy frantically began searching through her memories, desperately hunting for proof of her lauded independence. What had she eaten for breakfast that morning? Where did she work? Were the answers real? Could she know??

Wisteria chuckled, still looking away. "There's only one way to find out, my acorn."

"And what's that?" Her heart felt tight. Panic still held her in an iron vice.

The towering affini pushed the chair back, and stood. However much she had dwarfed Andy while sitting, standing just made it worse. She held out a hand. "It's time for us to go now, pet." Her voice was iron, commanding, sweeping through Andy. With the turmoil in her head, there was no refusing the order.

Tentatively, anxiously, but obediently, Andy stood and walked over to take Wisteria's hand. Vines snaked out, binding her wrist and upper arm with a surprising gentleness that still lacked any give. There was no escape. Wisteria started to walk. Andy quickly began jogging along, barely keeping up with her friend's(?) massive strides. After the hypnotic display, a solid third of the patrons watched them go. Most of the humans were gaping in open desire. She blushed, hard.

Wisteria swung the door open, and Andy quickly followed out into the street. Her mind was still churning, struggling to catch up with how quickly things had gone wrong. Wrong? Had they gone wrong? She didn't know anymore. Gathering enough thoughts to ask a question took until they reached the train station, where she was picked up and placed firmly on a viney lap. That silenced her for another long moment, until she finally spoke up.

"Wist?"

There was no response; Wisteria didn't even acknowledge that anything had been said.

"Wisteria?" Andy turned to look up at her. Still, nothing. Her shoulders clenched. She had lived in under the compact her entire life, she had been surrounded by affini media and books, to say nothing of having watched many of her friends and acquaintances fall to domestication over the years. She knew what Wisteria was waiting for. And as hesitant as she was to say it, she had to know.

"....mistress?"

A wide grin spread across the affini's face, and she looked down at the girl in her lap. "Yes, my acorn?"

Andy felt herself tremble. This was not how she had imagined the conversation going this morning. But nothing felt real anymore. She didn't even know if her hab unit was real. The train was traveling the wrong direction for her, but she didn't know if that was right either.

"Did you-- Am I a floret?"

"Not yet, dearest. But we're going to change that right now. After how adorable you were today, I couldn't believe I'd held myself back for so long."

Andy whimpered, but did not resist.

[drdemonprince]

hey there! in regards to ur last ask (about adults in kink spaces online having status quo ideas about kids in those spaces and such, sorry this isn’t a great summary), do you have any ideas on how to combat that? this is a genuine question - those disclaimers of ‘no minors can follow’ and such have always made me a little confused whilst i understood the statement behind them objectively you know? and now that i’m adult (legally - i turned eighteen a couple of months ago), i’m having trouble figuring out how to talk about kink and sex online in a way that doesn’t hurt kids or exclude them. like, i want to post some explicit stuff i’ve written on my blog or ao3, but i know that i have kids subscribed to me since i used to post relatively bland kids stuff for years before that. so like… how would one navigate kink spaces online and general spaces with an attitude of understanding that trying to close off these spaces to kids completely is harmful but that kids can also be harmed by people in these spaces? if that makes sense?

I think it is a really challenging thing to navigate. The way that I handle it personally is that I don't regard it as my responsibility to monitor and police the ages of people following me. I want the information that I put out into the world to be freely available to the people who need it most; one of the ways that I ensure that is by not paywalling any of my writing, and another is by not age restricting things except for when circumstances mean that I absolutely have to. for example: during some of our live streams that have been particularly focused on kink or sex, Maddie and I have flagged the stream as 18 plus out of necessity, and if a member of our chat identifies themselves as being under 18 during such streams, we have to ask them to leave. but in terms of my own private attitudes, I recall accessing porn and sexual writing from a very young age and learning a great deal from it, and I don't think there is anything wrong with a young person doing so. and if a young person has questions around sexual health and safety and they direct them to me, I would generally be comfortable answering those questions or at least directing them to resources. I do all I can to normalize talk about these things and de-exceptionalize sex, and I don't let myself get intimidated by puritanical accusations about that being inherently evil and improper. but I also have really firm digital boundaries in terms of not giving a stranger on the internet much access to my life or getting too overly involved in theirs. I do this because I'm a public figure and people can be very inappropriate with me, but another benefit of this approach is that I'm never really having any kind of conversation with an internet stranger that would immediately turn inappropriate if I would find out that they were a minor. strangers on the internet are strangers. I can pass along resources and share my opinion if they ask me for advice, but I am not developing a close relationship with them or developing anything involving emotional or sexual intimacy with them. or with any, like, fan either. obviously some of this is different from your own situation, but you can probably see the logic here and how you might apply it to your own ways of relating to the subject online. I think there is never any harm in making information available, being aware of what a platform's terms of service are just for the sake of protecting yourself, and maintaining good boundaries with people you do not know while still being friendly, helpful, and cordial.

[rapidhighway]

gonna vent for a sec but im so tired of this "don't wanna be an inconvenience", people pleasing shit ngl.....do people who do this know that they just come off as really rude and like... it just feels insulting each time

[mortalityplays]

This is a dangerous sentiment for me to express, as an editor who spends most of my working life telling writers to knock it off with the 45-word sentences and the adverbs and tortured metaphors, but I do think we're living through a period of weird pragmatic puritanism in mainstream literary taste.

e.g. I keep seeing people talk about 'purple prose' when they actually mean 'the writer uses vivid and/or metaphorical descriptive language'. I've seen people who present themselves as educators offer some of the best genre writing in western canon as examples of 'purple prose' because it engages strategically in prose-poetry to evoke mood and I guess that's sheer decadence when you could instead say "it was dark and scary outside". But that's not what purple prose means. Purple means the construction of the prose itself gets in the way of conveying meaning. mid-00s horse RPers know what I'm talking about. Cerulean orbs flash'd fire as they turn'd 'pon rollforth land, yonder horizonways. <= if I had to read this when I was 12, you don't get to call Ray Bradbury's prose 'purple'.

I griped on here recently about the prepossession with fictional characters in fictional narratives behaving 'rationally' and 'realistically' as if the sole purpose of a made-up story is to convince you it could have happened. No wonder the epistolary form is having a tumblr renaissance. One million billion arguments and thought experiments about The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas that almost all evade the point of the story: that you can't wriggle out of it. The narrator is telling you how it was, is and will be, and you must confront the dissonances it evokes and digest your discomfort. 'Realistic' begins on the author's terms, that's what gives them the power to reach into your brain and fiddle about until sparks happen. You kind of have to trust the process a little bit.

This ultra-orthodox attitude to writing shares a lot of common ground with the tight, tight commodification of art in online spaces. And I mean commodification in the truest sense - the reconstruction of the thing to maximise its capacity to interface with markets. Form and function are overwhelmingly privileged over cloudy ideas like meaning, intent and possibility, because you can apply a sliding value scale to the material aspects of a work. But you can't charge extra for 'more challenging conceptual response to the milieu' in a commission drive. So that shit becomes vestigial. It isn't valued, it isn't taught, so eventually it isn't sought out. At best it's mystified as part of a given writer/artist's 'talent', but either way it grows incumbent on the individual to care enough about that kind of skill to cultivate it.

And it's risky, because unmeasurables come with the possibility of rejection or failure. Drop in too many allegorical descriptions of the rose garden and someone will decide your prose is 'purple' and unserious. A lot of online audiences seem to be terrified of being considered pretentious in their tastes. That creates a real unwillingness to step out into discursive spaces where you 🫵 are expected to develop and explore a personal relationship with each element of a work. No guard rails, no right answers. Word of god is shit to us out here. But fear of getting that kind of analysis wrong makes people hove to work that slavishly explains itself on every page. And I'm left wondering, what's the point of art that leads every single participant to the same conclusion? See Spot run. Run, Spot, run. Down the rollforth land, yonder horizonways. I just want to read more weird stuff.

[agentromanoffsir]

neocities guide - why you should build your own html website

do you miss the charm of the 90s/00s web where sites had actual personality instead of the same minimalistic theme? are you feeling drained by social media and the constant corporate monopoly of your data and time? do you want to be excited about the internet again? try neocities!!

what is neocities?

neocities is a free hosting website that lets you build your own html website from scratch, with total creative control. in their own words: "we are tired of living in an online world where people are isolated from each other on boring, generic social networks that don't let us truly express ourselves. it's time we took back our personalities from these sterilized, lifeless, monetized, data mined, monitored addiction machines and let our creativity flourish again."

why should I make my own website?

web3 has been overtaken by capitalism & conformity. websites that once were meant to be fun online social spaces now exist solely to steal your data and sell you things. it sucks!! building a personal site is a great way to express yourself and take control of your online experience.

what would I even put on a website?

the best part about making your own site is that you can do literally whatever the hell you want! focus on a specific subject or make it a wild collection of all your interests. share your art! make a shrine for one of your interests! post a picture of every bird you see when you step outside! make a collection of your favorite blinkies! the world is your oyster !! here are some cool example sites to inspire you: recently updated neocities sites | it can be fun to just look through these and browse people's content! space bar | local interstellar dive bar creature feature | halloween & monsters big gulp supreme peanutbuttaz | personal site dragodiluna linwood | personal site patho grove | personal site

getting started: neocities/html guide

sound interesting? here are some guides to help you get started, especially if you aren't familiar with html/css sadgrl.online webmastery | a fantastic resource for getting started with html & web revival. also has a layout builder that you can use to start with in case starting from scratch is too intimidating web design in 4 minutes | good for learning coding basics w3schools | html tutorials templaterr | demo & html for basic web elements eggramen test pages | css page templates to get started with sadgrl background tiles | bg tiles rivendell background tiles | more free bg tiles

fun stuff to add to your site

want your site to be cool? here's some fun stuff that i've found blinkies-cafe | fantastic blinkie maker! (run by @transbro & @graphics-cafe) gificities | internet archive of 90s/00s web gifs internet bumper stickers | web bumper stickers momg | gif gallery 99 gif shop | 3d gifs 123 guestbook | add a guestbook for people to leave messages cbox | add a live chat box moon phases | track the phases of the moon gifypet | a little clickable page pet adopt a shroom | mushroom page pet tamaNOTchi | virtual pet crossword puzzle | daily crossword imood | track your mood neko | cute cat that chases your mouse pollcode | custom poll maker website hit counter | track how many visitors you have

web revival manifestos & communities

also, there's actually a pretty cool community of people out there who want to bring joy back to the web! melonland project | web project/community celebrating individual & joyful online experiences. Also has an online forum melonland intro to web revival | what is web revival? melonking manifesto | status cafe | share your current status nightfall city | online community onio.cafe | leave a message and enjoy the ambiance sadgrl internet manifesto | yesterweb internet manifesto | sadly defunct, still a great resource reclaiming online social spaces | great manifesto on cultivating your online experience

in conclusion

i want everyone to make a neocities site because it's fun af and i love seeing everyone's weird personal sites that they made outside of the control of capitalism :) say hi to me on neocities

EDIT: part 2!!

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

There's a viral video circulating from the Fort Worth Zoo, of two keepers who ended up in a habitat at the same time as a silverback gorilla. Spoiler for good news: neither the humans nor the gorilla got hurt. It's a bad situation that ended extremely well, and that's why I want to talk about it.

The audio for this video is mostly someone praying loudly, so if you need to turn the audio off to watch it, you won't miss anything relevant. If you don't want to watch it, here's the summary: it starts with a keeper running around the corner into the main exhibit, pursued by a large male gorilla. She is quickly able to get into a doorway at the back of the exhibit, but does not completely close the door because the gorilla is standing across from her, watching. He eventually moves off to the right hand side of the exhibit, where we can see a keeper is trapped in the corner at the front. She was trying to move towards the exit as he moved to the right, and she stops, standing very still behind a tree, while he stays along the far right wall. They stay like that for a minute, and then the gorilla runs to the front right corner, and the keeper is able to run to the door in the back of the exhibit and get to safety.

Let's start with basic information. Even though it's just going viral now, this video is from October of 2023. It was taken not by a guest, but by the zoo security officer responding to the situation. Hmmm, seems like he maybe should have been doing something else during that situation, instead of than taking a phone video. It's going viral now because the guy (who is no longer employed at the zoo) decided to post it on TikTok for his five minutes of fame. This guy immediately started giving all sorts of media interviews, answering questions like "why no tranquilizers" inappropriately, making memes out of his own video, generally distasteful shit.

Zoo spokesperson Avery Elander gave a public statement that "thankfully, there was no physical contact between keepers and gorilla, and all staff and animals are safe." A comment from the zoo has also indicated that the incident was due to keeper error. (As opposed to, for instance, something in the fencing breaking.) According to the guy who posted the video, a lock was left unsecured and the gorilla was able to open the door to the habitat. I don't know if I buy it, and again, this just... is probably why he doesn't have a job anymore. By sharing that detail - real or not - he places a ton of public scrutiny and blame on that keeper team. (If that's what happened, I can promise you it will have been dealt with internally.) He also was nice enough to say he wouldn't name the women in the video... but verified they're still staffers at the zoo... which means they're eminently identifiable! Excuse me while I ragequit for a second.

So there's two reasons I wanted to talk about this. The first is to make sure it is well known that this guy is purposefully and intentionally exploiting the worst day of someone's life for media attention. Their lives were in danger, and he's using it for fame. His name is in the media articles - I'm not going to share it because he doesn't deserve that attention. The second reason, though, is because this video is a masterclass on how to survive if you end up sharing space with a gorilla. Every zoo person I've spoken to or seen comment on the video is so, so impressed with how the keepers handled themselves.

The gorilla in this video is 34-year-old Elmo. All apes in AZA zoos are managed in protected contact, so keepers are supposed to be separated from them by a barrier at all times. The zookeepers were in the habitat putting out a mid-day meal when he got out. Watching the video, you can see he's not actively being aggressive towards them - he's not making threat displays or trying to approach them. Mostly, Elmo seems like he doesn't know what is going on and he's kinda freaked out about it. (This is confirmed in the zoo's press statement, too). The staff stayed calm, and importantly, watched and waited to see how he'd move and act.

The zoo did say one thing, though, that's a bit misleading. In one article, their press person I quote as saying “In general, gorillas are considered the “gentle giants” of the great ape species.” Just because this may be true in comparison to other great ape species doesn't meant gorilla aren't still incredibly dangerous. This type of messaging always worries me, because I think it leads people to misunderstand the risks of being close to megafauna. Gorilla are extremely strong animals, and their social norms/behaviors are very different from that of humans. That's why it's such a big deal any time people end up in gorilla habitats, and why sometimes in those circumstances lethal measures have to be taken to protect human life.

These keepers are incredibly lucky to be unharmed. These women stayed safe specifically because they're trained professionals who knew how to act around gorilla, they knew this particular animal well, and they'd learned the escapes from the exhibit just in case this ever happened. We should applaud them for their cool heads and quick thinking.

As for the guy who posted the video? As a colleague put it, may he always step on a Lego.

[romanticintheory]

Hello!!!! I was wondering if you could write an angst with Ghost/Simon where the reader was too clingy after having a bad day and he lashed out on her but he didn't think anything of it because the next day the reader was acting normal. He only noticed after a few weeks when reader became more distant and quiet. Feel free to ignore if it's too weird or you don't like it!!! ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

this one is dedicated to all the ones who were hurt and never got that apology. hope this alleviates the pain.

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader || masterlist || request rules

-there was no one specific reason as to why today turned out to be a bad day. it just was.

-from accidentally burning yourself trying to make breakfast after waking up late to having to deal with the most insufferable customers, it just wasn't your day today.

-but it was okay, because you had simon to return to when everything was said and done.

-the frown on your face immediately softens the moment you see him walk through the door to your shared home. as soon as he pulls his mask and boots off, you make your way toward him and engulf him in a tight hug.

-you are painfully (but understandably) unaware of the thin veil of his patience and the frustration that had been brewing within him in the past few hours. he half-heartedly returns the embrace.

-"how was your day, si?" you ask him gently.

-"fine," he responds shortly, hoping there isn't more to the conversation.

-even after you pull away from him, you trail behind him as he moves around the house. this wasn't irregular behavior from either of you. simon wasn't usually the most talkative person in the room, anyway, but he loved to hear your voice. that was one of the things he loved about the two of you together; you filled the space he couldn't.

-today, though, was different. he was pissed off at all different kinds of people. for some reason, couldn't bring himself to tell you that he was having a bad day and needed some space, especially because it was evident you were having a bad one yourself.

-so when he turned on his heel after listening to your rambles for as much as he could take and lashed out at you, he tried not to think about the unbearable amount of guilt seeping into his veins.

-"would you just stop clinging to me for five minutes? god, 's like i can't get away from you or your constant fucking talking!"

-you had heard stories, mostly from simon, about the kind of man he could be when pushed to his limit. mostly, it was of violent, physical acts when it came to work or protecting the ones he loved. other times, he would tell you about when he'd lash out at others just like he did to you, now, and he always told it to you with a quiet fear. there was an unspoken meaning to him telling you about the times he's acted out: i don't want to do the same to you. i don't want to hurt you.

-but here he was, towering over you with a coldness in his eyes and a dryness in his throat from the sheer volume of his words.

-averting your gaze from his, you let out a meek, "'m sorry," and watch as he slams the door in front of your face.

-when he slinks into bed next to your sleeping form later that night, ridden with shame and guilt, he misses the tear-stained face hidden from him. after his outburst, you felt like all of the energy in your body had been taken away from you and retreated to bed early. you cried on and off for hours.

-you always thought you had a clinging problem. it was an insecurity you carried with you starting from childhood. friends would become acquaintances and family would keep you at arms-length. after years of believing the issue was you, simon walked into your life and told you different.

-if you stopped talking because you thought he stopped listening and was uninterested, he'd always turn back to you and genuinely ask why you stopped talking. whenever you apologized for hugging him for too long or asking to spend time with him for the third time that week, he'd always tilt his head at you and say in that low, sincere voice, "but i love you?"

-for all those reasons, you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt despite how much he hurt you. so, when he tries to bring it up the next morning, you do your best to brush it off. he was having a bad day. that was all. no need to make a fuss.

-"listen, love," he calls to you as you pop your piece of toast out of the toaster. "about last night-"

-completely disregarding his words, you look at the clock and stuff your phone into your pocket. "it's fine. honestly, simon," you tell him with the best smile you could muster. "i'm gonna be late. i'll see you tonight."

-you were so adamant on getting out as quick as possible that simon had no time to respond. he thought to himself that maybe he was making a bigger deal out of it than you. maybe there were no hard feelings and you were completely fine. after all, he was always overly worried for you, anyway.

-so, when you came home, he didn't mention it. it was as if last night didn't happen, and the two of you were perfectly fine. there were times where simon thought you were being a bit more restrained in your movements or words, but he tried to chalk it up to just him being overly paranoid. you said it was fine, so it was better not to push you on it, right?

-at first, you were doing really good at keeping yourself from overthinking the situation. however, as time went on and you paid more attention to how you acted around your boyfriend, you began to wonder if you were really that clingy.

-as the week progressed, your state of mind would deteriorate. what if it wasn't just a bad day? what if that was what he thought the entire time and was just waiting for the right moment to tell you? had he just been trying to cheer you up about your insecurities the entire time? and if he was, how much of this relationship was even real, then?

-the more you thought about it, the more distant you became. the last thing you wanted to do was make simon feel like he was being suffocated by you. you slowly stopped initiating physical affection with him, restricted talking about your day to a few sentences, and tried to answer simon's questions in one word when possible.

-he notices. of course he notices, it was like a stranger was living where you were supposed to be, and he missed it. he missed you.

-he asks you about your change when you're getting ready for bed, pulling the rest of your nightshirt over your head. despite being exhausted from work and looking like you were sitting out in the wind, he thought you never looked more ethereal than you did now.

-"(y/n)," he said.

-"hm?" you hummed to him, not turning toward his direction. you sat down on the edge of your side of the bed, turning off the lamp at the same time.

-your lack of emotional presence was starting to eat at him. he sat down next to you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight and forcing you to lean toward him.

-"you alright?"

-"yes. why?"

-"i dunno, you just seem..." his eyes tried to find yours, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. "quiet."

-it was then that you looked at him, and it was scary to simon because he couldn't make out the emotion in your expression. there was nothing he could read.

-"isn't that-" you had to pause to try and stabilize your wavering voice. "isn't that what you wanted?"

-there was a tension-filled silence that settled in the room, and for a second you were worried that what you said was somehow incredibly offensive.

-finally, he chokes out, "i'm sorry."

-again, you try to muster up a smile. "it's fine, i already told you. i should've known you wanted space."

-"no."

-"no?"

-"it was my fault," he explains. "how could you 'ave known? i didn't tell you i wasn't in the mood that day, and that's not even considering the way i talked to you. i shouldn't have- nothing excuses what i said to you."

-still, you were convinced you were to blame. "well, i have a history of being clingy, so," you were trying to come up with more excuses for him. for most of your life, you had decided that you were the issue. it couldn't be any other way, right?

-"i know. it's one of the things i love you for," he says quietly. "not to sound cheesy but it's what makes you you, and i don't want you to lose that jus' 'cause i'm still shitty at communication."

-you knew in some capacity he was right. there was no excuse for how he talked to you, but the next words you wanted to say evaded you.

-simon thought about talking some more. instead, he grasped your back with one hand and slid his other underneath your legs, repositioning you on his lap. it was like a silent plea from him, a way of proving that he wanted to be close to you just as much as you wanted to be close to him.

-"you're sure i'm not too clingy?" you ask tentatively.

-"positive," he reassures you, rubbing small circles on your back with his thumb. "you wanna know something?"

-"what?"

-"if i wasn't so fucked up-"

-"you're not fucked up."

-"right." you never let him talk badly about himself. that was something he was still getting used to after all this time. being loved and learning to love himself. "well, if i didn't grow up the way i did and became the person i am, i'd probably be way clingier than you."

-"that's impossible," you deny, unconsciously letting yourself lean into his touch.

-"you don't know how much i want you. if my mind and body would let me, i'd be close to you all the time, showing you the attention you deserve."

-"you give me plenty."

-"agree to disagree," he stops with the circles and pulls you impossibly closer to his body. "but 'm trying. 'm trying to learn to let you love me and to not be afraid to love you. 'm sorry, love. i stopped trying that night, and i think it'll be the death of me."

-you let his words sink in, a thoughtful look on your face.

-"next time you'll tell me, right? what you're thinking?"

-"pinkie promise," he agrees, letting the hand under your legs slide out and raise his pinkie finger toward you.

-in return, you link your pinkie with his to seal the promise, and it feels as though the heavy tension in the air has cleared away.

-"i love you," he says, feeling bold from his previous admission.

-"i love you, too." there's that smile on your face. he never realized until now how he probably couldn't live without it.

-he kisses you on the lips, and for a moment the two of you just stay there in each other's arms, forgiving the past, healing the present, and dreaming of the future together.

[a-substantial-trash-pile]

Catalyst

so in my au which i'm totally not using to cope or anything haha, after realizing that curly isn't going to do anything about jimmy, anya confides in swansea and he goes Protective Dad Mode. i'm calling this the "Responsibility AU." ramble below cut.

swansea doesn't immediately go after jimmy with an axe or anything because 1. they're not in a high stress life/death crash situation and 2. anya specifically requests that swansea not enact violence upon jimmy after swansea says, and i quote, "i'm gonna beat his ass." anya just wants to feel safer and more supported on the ship—she doesn't want swansea to get in trouble even if jimmy does deserve to get destroyed by 10000 punches.

what swansea can do is watch out for anya and make sure she's never alone in a room with jimmy. if there's a situation where she has to be alone with jimmy (like the psych evals), she and swansea have a system where she can signal for help. with anya's permission, swansea asks daisuke to help look out for her too (without telling him the details as to why since that's anya's right to share or not). daisuke has already picked up at this point that something is wrong based on how much more hostile swansea's become towards jimmy, and he trusts his boss, so he agrees without much question.

anya, feeling less alone now that she has people watching her back, gains more confidence to stand up to jimmy. which makes him angry because his unwanted advances are being denied and swansea and daisuke keep getting in his way. he just can't understand why he's being treated as the bad guy here (this is because he is a delusional asshole).

meanwhile curly is slowly realizing that he needs to actually do something here because the tension in the crew is palpable and increasing by the day. also swansea is being mighty passive aggressive to him and talking about "responsibility" a lot. curly keeps trying to talk to jimmy about it but the guy just keeps downplaying it and blaming everyone else but himself. and curly is realizing that his friend isn't who he thought he was.

it all comes to a head one day when an angry jimmy tries to confront anya alone and swansea steps in. things get heated, people start yelling. curly show up to see swansea and jimmy on the verge of fighting with anya and daisuke trying to hold them back respectively. curly breaks up the fight. jimmy storms off. curly follows him and finds him trying to get the gun from the case in the cockpit. curly asks him why he's doing this and jimmy claims it's for his own protection because he feels "threatened by swansea." he tells curly to give him the code. curly, the sheer wrongness of the whole situation hitting him, finally calls jimmy out on all his bs. jimmy just laughs in his face, still believing that he's not in the wrong and curly doesn't have the guts to do anything anyway. so the captain fires him on the spot. jimmy snaps and he and curly get into a fight in the cockpit. jimmy is trying to crash the ship and curly is trying to stop him. then the rest of the crew show up and anya knocks jimmy's ass out with the gun case. swansea is so proud.

they throw jimmy in the cryopod so they don't have to worry about him pulling anything else and he can be properly dealt with once the stupid delivery is over. everyone's like, "wow that was a close one—could you imagine how messed up it would be if we ended up in a crash because of jimmy? thank god that didn't happen." curly makes swansea the copilot until they can get a replacement and swansea's like, "goddammit as if i don't already do enough shit around here."

anyway my whole goal here was to get rid of jimmy early so i can have beautiful Found Family shenanigans in space with the rest of the crew. apologies and healing and happy times will happen. no the whole getting laid off thing doesn't happen. no i don't have an explanation for it. sorry for the essay.

[midnightorchids]

fuck it here’s some dating firefighter!jason headcanons… there’s one suggestive pick up line at the very end ;(

- He often leaves your shared home in a chaotic state— hair disheveled, shoe laces untied and a piece of toast hanging from his mouth

- However despite his hastiness, Jason never seems to forget to kiss you goodbye. His lips would connect with the plump skin of your cheeks first and then travel to your lips. He’d mutter small a “I’ll see you tonight,” and send you a quick wink before running out the door

- He laughs at your jokes and always continues the bit. If you make a fire joke/pun, you know he’s about to make a million more

- “I don't need a fire alarm to tell me that you're on fire.” “Jay come up with something better please”

- Jason works late at the station, so on days where you have some free time, you bring him a shawarma from his favourite restaurant. He’s always surprised, but so unbelievably happy at the same time. If he’s not too busy, you’ll stay and steal a couple bites of his wrap while he tells you about his day

- He brags about you to his coworkers. Like a lot. They all know you by name and they often tease Jason for not shutting the fuck up, they’re tired of hearing about you (actually they’re just jealous)

- Jason is really protective over you, especially in public spaces. He always has his hand on the small of your back or has your hands interlocked. He guides you through crowds and makes sure to keep close. On the off chance that you’re not near him, his eyes will still be on you. It’s never weird or overbearing though, he’s protective, but he’s not over the top

- he regularly watches crime and law enforcement shows with you and has a habit of pointing out inaccuracies (especially when the fire department’s involved). It’s annoying because he talks a lot, but also, it’s so cute when he gets worked up over the small details

- “The fire escape isn't the only thing I want to go down on.” “JASON WHAT THE FUCK WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT…!! ;)”

[midday-clouds]

Yandere Batfamily x Neglected & "Immortal" Reader 》I Part II Part III Part IV

There are many yandere batfam x neglected reader but I can't get enough of them--- So here is a silly story idea I have

I don't go into too much detail about how the reader is immortal but I'll probably share about it another timeee

CW: Neglect, Self-Degrading, Kidnapping, Violence(Being shot at), Blood, "Death"

Reader is a product of a hookup between Bruce and some random other woman, your mom

You and your mom had a decent relationship. The two of you would help each other out and have fun playing games. You were so content without knowing who your father was.

Your world begins to collapse when your mom doesn’t come home one day. A bunch of strange people suddenly come into your house and drag you out. You never understood what happened that day besides that you were now alone.

After your mother is announced dead, you find out that you are related to the millionaire, Bruce Wayne. You don’t know much about him but still find yourself put on the Wayne Manor's doorstep

Bruce had just gone through the loss of Jason and had just taken Tim in. He would have happily made some space in his schedule but a case always comes up and makes him forget about you.

Due to Bruce being too busy, you never properly mourned for your mother. Alfred would try to help you but you needed your dad.

For the first week, you locked yourself in your room, almost immediately forgotten by the rest of the family. Alfred would bring meals to your room, knowing that you aren't ready for any sort of interaction in this state. 

Alfred tries to convince Bruce to prioritize your health but there is always a case that takes up all of his attention

After that first week, you become comfortable enough to try and get out of your room at least.

With you around the manor more, the family begins to see them more often but not enough to care.

All of them were busy being vigilantes and weren’t interested in connecting with you. Sure, don't mean to neglect you, but some criminals just don't know when to stop

This worsens your mental state, making them regret not trying to bond with their family earlier. If they had tried in the beginning, then maybe they would have made connections with your new family. Now it feels like they've lost their chance

Alfred would do his best to comfort you but he could only help so much.

When you met Dick, it was when he was stopping by to talk to Bruce. You both had a fun conversation together but that was it.

After that first interaction, you tried to talk to Dick more often when he stopped by, but it seems the first time was just lucky. Dick always had something that didn't allow for a quick chat,

Meeting Jason was honestly terrifying. You were in the kitchen when you heard some noise from outside. It's dark outside so you walk up to the window to see what the sound was

Because of the darkness outside and lights inside, you mainly just see your reflection when looking outside

You squint your eyes to try to see past the reflection when a red helmet pops up and frightened you

Falling onto the ground, you stare in shock at seeing the stranger open the window and step inside

Jason tries to relax your nerves by taking off his helmet, showing he isn't a threat. It doesn't help much when you don't even know who he is

He explains himself after seeing your confused look and you both end up having a small conversation. It was nice until Bruce came in and pulled Jason away.

You never seem to meet Jason again

There were very few instances where you interacted with Tim. Even though you lived in the same house, Tim was always busy.

You’d both exchange small greetings when seeing each other in the hall but that was it. You didn't want to disturb him so you never stopped by his room

you hoped that when Tim had free time, the two could hang out. However, Tim always made plans that you couldn't fit into

Sometimes you would hear that Tim has been playing a game with his friends and you would play it but by yourself.

After a couple of years, Damian enters the family and you were so excited

Because Damian was new to the family, you thought it would be the perfect opportunity to bond with him

That didn't go well. He almost stabbed you

Your opinion of Damian was quick to go sour.

Damian's acts to show authority have gotten you scared of walking around the manor and frightened of animals. Specifically Titus.

It is quite unfortunate as you love animals and to have a dog in the family would bring you so much joy. Too bad Titus has attacked and chased you on multiple occasions

You didn't know what to do with the violence Damian had been taking out on you. You don't feel comfortable talking to Bruce and don't want to bother Alfred. This leads to you bottling up your emotions and locking yourself in your room

During your time, you spent reflecting on your life. Being in the manor isn't helping your mental health so it would be good to go outside more. Due to your constant attempts to bond with your family, you don't spend too much time with your friends from school

Seeing this as another perfect opportunity, you make plans with your friends to get out of the house and have a bit of self-care

Once the day comes, you quickly pack a small backpack and leave the house, only leaving a note for Alfred that says where you're at.

Finally getting some “fresh” air and being surrounded by those who feel more like family than your real family

You all have the best day and make plans for more get-togethers. 

It may not be the safest to be out so often but you’ve lived in Gotham your whole life, you know the safety procedures to stay safe. There isn't much news on you so people don't even recognize you as Bruce’s kid

Of course, something had to happen

You and your friends had just finished a fun day and you realize that your bike was stolen, meaning you don't have a way home. Your friends offered to take you home but you declined out of politeness. If something does go wrong, you ask your friends to call you to check up on you

Your walk home is longer than expected and it’s getting darker. As you walk through the streets of Gotham, you’re suddenly pulled into an alley and are threatened with a gun

There a three masked guys and one of them seems to have recognized you as Bruce’s kid, changing their plan to use you for ransom

You’re knocked out and taken to an abandoned building where you’re tied up to a pipe in the back

The kidnappers have a ransom letter and take it to the Wayne manor, including the small backpack you carried around

Unfortunately, Alfred was on his month-long vacation and Bruce was the one to receive the letter

He takes the time to contact "all" his kids and they're all perfectly fine and he doesn't recognize the backpack that was sent with the letter. There was a wallet but no ID card of any kind. The letter also didn't have a name on it.

Bruce brings up the case to the rest of the family but they agree that it may be a scam. 

The letter was likely from some desperate person who was trying to trick Bruce into giving money so it was put on the side while the family worked on a bigger case. 

Because of this, you’re held hostage for an unknown amount of days before the kidnappers get tired of waiting and shoot you in the gut out of frustration 

You’re filled with immense pain from the bullet before darkness consumes you.

More days pass before you wake up, still tied to a pipe and blood stained clothes

It seems your kidnappers had left your body behind rather than getting rid of it. You’ve been struggling with the rope since you have been taken and it was paying off because you can see that you can almost get your hands free.

Once you're out of the building, it is midnight. You immediately run back to the manor the moment you find a family path.

No one is there to notice you make your way back to your room. Because of how long it's been, you don't leave a trail of blood. Maybe some dirt but hopefully it won't be too hard to clean up

You debate on what action to take next. Looking in the mirror, the injury from the bullet is gone and you don't want to go to the hospital

One thing that is clear though is that you are extremely hungry and how dirty you feel. With this on your mind, you do your best to clean yourself up before going down to the kitchen

You don't feel comfortable talking to anyone so thankfully the rest of the family is busy at night,

Once you are sure no one is around, you take a bunch of snacks and hurry back to your room

In your room, you eat everything until you finally feel full. Hopefully, you don't just throw everything up because it feels so nice to finally have something in your stomach

Your nerves begin to relax and you truly take in the events that happened

How are you still alive? You were shot and haven't had food for days. What happened? Did Bruce not get the ransom letter? Why did no one save you? Did your friends call you?

Quickly remembering your friends, you look for your phone but are unable to find it. Not wanting to worry your friends, you open up your laptop to contact your friends through there. You see that you've gotten multiple calls and messages from your friends and it honestly makes you happy, knowing that there were people that worried and cared about you. You quickly text your friends and tell them what happened (Not mentioning how you survived being shot)

During your chat, the topic changes to college stuff. Your senior year has just ended a couple of weeks ago and it would be good for you to move out and be closer to those that make you happy. Also, after the kidnapping, you don’t want to be near your current family. They were the reason you were kidnapped and didn’t even bother to help you

Your friends suggest going to college outside of Gotham, perhaps in Bludhaven.

After many years of being stuck in a family that does nothing but hurt you, you got an acceptance letter for a school in Bludhaven. You were so happy and had a small celebration with your friends. Unfortunately, none of your friends would be joining you but you couldn’t wait to truly be free. 

Alfred returns from his vacation and reviews all the work that he left behind, along with Bruce’s mail. He knows Bruce has likely already reviewed them but it helps Alfred get back on pace with his work

He finds the discarded ransom letter and immediately checks up on you.

When he goes to your room, he finds the room empty besides some items that you weren’t planning to bring to college with you. This worries Alfred more and goes to Bruce’s office to confront him about the letter.

Bruce is filled with immense guilt when he realizes he forgot that you existed and now you could be dead in an abandoned building. Him and the rest of your family completely forgot about you

Bruce has an emergency meeting with everyone where he explains the situation. Once a plan is set, they all go out in the night to find you. However, they only find loose restraints with dried-up blood and a broken phone.

When the family returns to the manor, Tim goes to his room to fix the phone, Bruce and Damian go to the Batcave to review the cameras, Dick and Jason decide to visit your room

With Alfred’s help, Dick and Jason find your room and take a look around. It isn’t the biggest and barely has anything in it. 

Jason finds some old and filled journals and looks through them. There is a checklist for school work, notes to yourself, and personal entries. He understands the emotions you put in your journal and wants to protect you. Especially when he reads your last entry about your kidnapping 

Dick looks at the decorations you have on the wall. There are some glow-in-the-dark stars, some posters from school events, etc. One of the posters is for a theater show and he wonders if you were a part of it. Either an actor or tech person, Dick wonders why he never heard about your shows. He attempts to take a poster off the wall but the tape used peeled some of the paint off the wall.

Bruce loads up the camera and looks at what happened the day the ransom letter was given to Bruce. You had this happy smile as you made sure you had everything you needed before going through the front door. About a week later, Bruce sees you on the camera, in bloodied clothes and completely exhausted. This brings a wave of relief to Bruce while Damian looks closely at the camera footage. The front of your shirt is covered in blood and has a hole in it, but you seem completely uninjured. 

The last thing the two see of you is you slowly taking your stuff out of the manor and officially moving out

Bruce and Damian find your room to update Dick and Jason on their findings.

They’re thankful that you’re alive but still need to see you in the flesh. Looking around your bedroom, there aren't many clues about where you have gone. 

Tim takes a few days to fix the damage on your phone. At the very least, he needs to save the data that was kept on the phone. After messing with a few parts of your phone, he transfers all the data to his computers.

Once everything is saved, Tim lets his curiosity get the best of him and looks through all of your stuff before informing the rest of the family. All your photos, text messages, etc. He sees all the calls and voicemails your friends sent you on the day you were kidnapped.

Tim continues to learn more about your interests and your efforts to spend time with the family. You ranting to your friends about only playing a game or reading a book because someone in the family has read or played it.

Tim ends up having a copy of all your data for personal use before speaking to the rest of the family

Your phone is finally fixed and Tim can use it to find the location of your laptop. All the way in Bludhaven

With new hope, the family begins their search for you

They just need to take you home and keep you safe

Forever

[honeydazai]

୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ 𝆬  sharing a bed with them 𓏸

feat.: Dazai, Chūya, Ranpo, Fyodor, Nikolai, Sigma

content: pre-relationship bed sharing, flirty/mildly sexual implications

It's truly unfortunate that, while on a mission for the Agency, you have to share a bed with DAZAI — or so you think, at least. He doesn't share the sentiment in the slightest, instead smiling as innocently as possible the moment his gaze falls onto the single bed in the hotel room booked for the night. While he pretends to offer you the bed, he'll guilt-trip you about the couch being way too short for his long legs and about his back already aching until, eventually, you give in and share it with him.

Naturally, he gets into your space more than necessary at night, pretending he's asleep while cuddling close to you, given how, then, you can't cuss him out for wrapping an arm around your waist and burying his face in your neck, breath warm against your throat. It's worse that he knows if you won't get any amount of sleep whatsoever, much too busy with fighting off arousal while he's pressed flush against your back.

“Hm? No, it's alright. I don't mind taking the couch. What kind of man would I be if I let you sleep on there? Still, it's just — it's way too short and hard. Couches this uncomfortable shouldn't exist, really. I doubt I'll be able to get even a wink of sleep tonight, what a shame.”

When there turns out to only be one bed in the hotel room you're supposed to stay in for the night, CHŪYA doesn't even hesitate before offering you the bed, immediately going for the couch instead. He won't accept any protests either; no matter whether you're worried about his comfort or just think it's polite to refuse his offer, he won't allow you to spend the night on a sofa. He's not making a huge deal out of it and, if you keep being annoying about it, he gets more and more exhausted by the minute.

Eventually, he might give in to the idea of sharing the bed. He has no trouble keeping to himself — or so he believes, because, once he's actually asleep, softly snoring into your ear, he's moving wildly, one leg eventually thrown over your body, arms stretched out. If you mention it to him in the morning, his cheeks flush soft pink.

“Hm? The fuck you mean, you'll be taking the sofa? Definitely not. I'm already here — and I don't mind. Go lie down and get some sleep. We've got a busy day tomorrow.”

RANPO, the very moment he steps foot into the room, decides he wants the bed to himself. The idea of taking the couch doesn't even cross his mind; instead, he makes his way over to the bed all too quickly, though, when you end up either glaring at him or asking him to share, he just shrugs.

Really, he doesn't make too big of a deal out of sharing a bed, not even seeming a little nervous at the idea of lying down beside you for hours on end. Meanwhile, at night, he cuddles up close to you — actually asleep, unlike a certain someone —, arms wrapped around you, for once completely unaware of you being all flustered because of him. In the morning, it'll be like nothing happened, even though you can't quite stop thinking about

“What are you looking at me like that for? I said we can share. If you're hoping to have it for yourself, tough luck. I was here first, just saying. Just get in or move to the couch already, I'm tired.”

All of FYODOR'S decisions are based on logic; this one is no exception. If the bed is large enough to fit two people, it's large enough for the two of you to share — though, if you feel like taking the couch instead, he won't protest. That's your decision to make, after all.

While actually sharing the bed with him, it's basically like you're alone in there, anyway. He doesn't move when asleep, doesn't make a sound; it's all too easy to imagine he's not even there, even though, occasionally, a dark strand of hair might brush against your face. What you don't know, however, is that he, at night, while you're fast asleep, he takes the time to watch you up close, lilac eyes tracing over every plane of your face.

“I do not mind sharing the bed with you. I hope you feel similarly. We both are adults, are we not? I doubt this will be an issue. Just lie down.”

NIKOLAI is undoubtedly amused by the idea of sharing a bed with you. He doesn't waste a single thought towards either of you taking the sofa instead; nonsense, just why would you do that? There's a perfectly fine bed right there, and surely both of you are mature enough to share one without any issues, right? Wrong.

He makes a point of being as obnoxious as possible, cuddling close to you the very second you lie down. It doesn't help that he's both tall and strong, his arms closed around your waist so you can't even try to get away or up, and he makes a point of whining whenever you attempt to squirm away. It's going to be a long night.

“What's the matter? Why are you moving so much? Stop it, I won't be able to fall asleep this way. Or — ah, are you trying to rile me up on purpose? That's naughty of you, sweetheart.”

SIGMA immediately makes a beeline for the couch the second he notices the dilemma of having a double bed rather than two separate ones booked. He won't even discuss the topic with you; he doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable or forced to sleep on a sofa, so he'll do it instead. There's no whining or guilt tripping from his end; he simply accepts his fate for the night. There's worse things to endure.

If you're incredibly serious about convincing him, however, he might just give in, even though his cheeks feel a little warmer than usual when he lies down next to you, making sure there's an appropriate amount of distance between the two of you. If there's anything he doesn't want, it's you thinking he's trying to be creepy after you've decided to trust him — he probably ends up barely getting any sleep, just because he's worried about accidentally getting too close to you.

“Are you sure you're alright with this? I really don't mind spending the night on the sofa instead. ... Well, if you're sure — thank you.”

NEW POST AGAIN FINALLY AA my commissions are open, by the way!! dm me if interested! 💜

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[kissbyoon]

(📷) . ݁₊ “HOME”

╰┈ Seungcheol is your home; your comfort and happiness.

₍ 𝑓𝘵. ₎ 𓈒 승철 ˶ fluff, est. rs, comfort * skinship, cheol being too real, petnames (baby, love, hun) ⎯⎯ 1.9k ꒱ ✦ husband!csc x wife&fem!r

♪ A/N : first fic on this blog !! happy new year <3

After what felt like a minute of holding your breath in—you finally breathe a sigh of relief, in disbelief that the project you had been working on for more than six months was complete. All complete.

The project that caused you to do constant night shifts, sometimes even all alone when your colleagues left early, those exhausting hours of work that resulted in you not being able to give enough time to your husband—Seungcheol, was finally complete.

Only the fact that it was Seungcheol, saved you from multiple fights that couples go through, when one can't find the time to give their significant other.

You're grateful. Beyond grateful.

Leaning back in your chair, you throw your arms in the air with contentment, letting out a squeal as you do so.

“Finally,” you couldn't help the grin forming on your face, brightening your face features.

However, as you took the time to look around in search of a colleague to share this happy moment with, your grin immediately dropped.

“Everyone left?” Sighing, you glanced at your watch. It indeed was too late, it shouldn't be a surprise that everyone had left.

You were so focused on completing your project—determined to get it done before the deadline—that you can't even remember when your colleagues left.

You rose from your seat, piling up all the paper works and placing them neatly on your table by the corner, before taking your phone to call Seungcheol—only to frown as it didn't turn on.

“Huh? I had it switched off this whole time?” Confused and slightly panicked, you turn your phone on—now concerned as the screen flashed with text messages from Seungcheol and 10+ missed calls.

Without wasting a second, you immediately call Seungcheol, taking your bag as you make your way out of your department office.

Weirdly enough, Seungcheol wasn't picking up your calls, causing you to stress even more. He did say he would be working for late hours today, but he had tried calling you just an hour ago.

As you reached the elevator, you let out a loud groan at the sight of an ‘out of service' sign.

A million dollar company? Sounded more like a joke to you right now.

You had to take the stairs, Seungcheol didn't pick up the call, he would be working late hours, you'd have to go home alone at this hour, and last but something that leaves you devastated the most—having to sleep on the cold bed that lacked his warmth.

‘Thanks, life.’ you could only think to yourself, your soft footsteps echoing with each step you took down the stairs.

Reaching the bottom floor, you breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of the bright city illuminated with lights, the road filled with cars passing by in front of you.

As you step out of the building, you're immediately hit with the cool breeze of the freezing winter, causing you to hug yourself tightly.

You're always thankful that your company building is located at the centre of the city, meaning you never have to worry about going home late at night.

But today, even this breath-taking view of the city couldn't make your day better or make your eyes shine with awe. Because you know whom you need and he wasn't here with you at this moment.

You just wanted a kiss from him, wanted to hear ‘you did a great job today, baby, I'm so proud of you’ from him, wanted to spend the rest of the night with him, and just wanted him.

Sighing, you take slow but steady steps towards somewhere—you just wanted to take a little stroll before going home, because the one you wanted to see so much right now wouldn't be there when you enter the comfort of your home anyway.

Because the comfort of your home was Seungcheol. Without him, your house just felt like an empty, cool space you really don't feel like living in.

After a few minutes of walking, you stand by a bridge, admiring the view of the calmy flowing river. Indeed, it was too beautiful to resist—causing you to smile finally.

“What's got my baby so smiley?” The voice and the man you recognised right away cooed, carrying a hint of amusement that only you could pick up, followed by his strong arms wrapping around your waist so gently.

Immediately turning around, your face brightens, your lips curling up into the happiest grin that was only reserved for him.

“Cheollie!!” You swear you sounded like an excited child chirping over an ice cream, but you couldn't care less because Seungcheol was in front of you right now. Throwing your arms around his neck, you hugged him tightly.

Maybe too tightly because even Seungcheol couldn't return the hug with the energy you had.

“I think this is enough, love,” he laughed when you refused to let go even after a minute. One of his hands rubbed your back while the other tried to hug you back with the same energy you were hugging him.

“No, it's never enough.” You were quick to defend, immediately shaking your head as you only tighten your grip around him more.

“Hm, let me guess. You missed me too much?” he teased with an intention to get a reaction out of you, only to fold immediately when you nodded so genuinely.

“A little too much.” Finally pulling back from the hug, you look him in the eye with a pout. He softens, his eyes looking at you so intently as he pulls out his hand to hold your face.

“I’m here now, and I love you,” his voice was low and soft, as if it was only meant for you to hear. “But why were you working overnight again? Didn't your boss tell you that you would have a break today?”

Seungcheol was indeed right—your boss had informed your department that the employees can take a day off, except for the ones working on the recent project. This included you and four others, but you had to revise it all over again, which meant you had to stay overnight anyways.

“It wasn't for the ones working on the project,” Seungcheol’s eyebrow immediately furrowed, his expression unpleasant.

“Who is he? Who does he think he is—”

“Cheol, he's my boss.”

He pouted at that, and you let out a giggle.

“Well, unfortunately.” He rolled his eyes, waving his hand in the air—always more than happy to let you know that he despises your boss.

“I always told you, I'm a better CEO and boss than him, with a better company and a better income.” There he goes again, not leaving a chance to convince you to join his company.

“Cheol, hun, we talked about this.” you say, referring to the fact that working in his presence would be difficult for you. Not because he is distracting— No, screw that, he is distracting. You don't like to think that you’d have to work properly, aware of the fact that Seungcheol is in his office, just a hallway away from you, and you wouldn't be able to just run there to hug or kiss him.

He is that distracting.

“Hmph, fine. You love me so much, it's difficult to work in my presence—I get it!” Crossing his arms, he spoke in his pouty manner.

“Oh!” Your eyes widened, remembering the fact that the project causing you (Seungcheol) to go crazy, was finally all done. “I have good news!”

Seungcheol's hand paused mid-air, his eyes dramatically widening—the way you could basically see through him and what he was thinking, you couldn't help but let out a laugh.

This was not how he planned to know about this good news.

“W-what good news…? Why are you laughing?” He whispered, his face speaking out loud—he wanted to hear that.

Seungcheol seemed confused but eager to know the “good news" as your body trembled with laughter. The thought of him being nervous yet so giddy over something that's, unfortunately, not the case, made you want to squish his cheeks.

Finally taking control over your laugh, you let your intrusive thoughts win—reaching out to hold his soft cheeks in your hands, squishing them together.

“No, baby, that's not what I meant,” you look at him with an amused smile as you notice the shift in his expression—now, embarrassed but a hint of smile played on his lips.

He avoided your eyes and hung his head low, cheeks dusted with a bright shade of pink.

Tilting your head, you try to look at him in the eyes, smiling. “Or perhaps you really wanted me to be…”

“No, no,” he shook his head, letting out a chuckle, taking your hands in his. “Forget about that! Tell me what you wanted to say?”

“I completed it.”

“Completed? Completed what, hun?”

“Your most hatest, the project that was causing headaches.” The way Seungcheol’s face immediately brightened, a gasp escaping his mouth.

“Really!?”

“Really!”

Seungcheol kept himself from squealing with excitement right in front of everyone, and instead trapped you in his arms (hugged you), and spinned you around with the brightest smile.

“Cheol! Put me down!” You laughed, and he did, leaning forward to peck both of your cheeks.

“Does that mean you finally get paid leaves? Oh my god?” Exaggerating, the man in front of you covered his mouth and gasped. You hit him lightly on the shoulder.

“I will! You hate that company so much?”

“I do.”

“Me too.” You mumbled, turning around as you rested your elbow on the guardrail.

“You hate your own company? Then stop working there! Why are you there anyway?” He followed, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Money, cheol, money.” You shoot him a look, followed by a laugh. He chuckled, but his eyes were focused on how the city lights enhance your beauty by far more.

“Which is something I make everyday, and it is more than your boss’s monthly income.” Him and his internal arguments with your boss never failed to make you burst into laughter.

“Hm, why do you hate him though?” Amused, but curious, you ask. He cocks his head to the side and scoffs.

“Why wouldn't I? Just because he is the boss doesn't mean he doesn't have to do anything. He can't rely on his employees for every damn work, and expect them to do it at light speed.” He sighed, rolling his eyes.

His rant went on and on, and you listened to him patiently—your smile never leaving your face as you stared at him.

“What is he, a man in his sixties?” he took a deep breath, huffing with disappointment.

“Cheol?” You called out, wrapping your hands around his arm, looking up at him.

“Hm?” He shifted his eyes on you, waiting for you to continue.

“Did you know? I love you.” Resting your chin on his shoulder, you told him that so sweetly, he had to pause for a moment to process it.

It wasn't like you and him didn't shower each other with ‘I love you' every single minute, but something about you taking your time to say it so sweetly and lovingly—the sincerity and love in your eyes visibly clear—it had an effect on him even after years of being with you.

“W-well,” he cleared his throat, looking away from your gaze. “I love you too. No, more.”

“Yeah? How much more?”

“Definitely more than your boss’s daily salary.” Again, you burst into a fit of laughter—followed by Seungcheol’s giggles and pleading for you to quiet down.

And this is what you mean, when you say he is your home.

@kissbyoon ⌕ ۫ all rights reserved/copying strictly prohibited.

[th3mrskory]

Unspoken Desires

Pairing: fem!Reader x Old Man!Logan

Warning: 18+ MDNI, SMUT,explicit language, coercion (if you squint), oral (male/female receiving), handjob, fingering, unprotected p in v, missionary, doggy style, anal play, creampie.

Summary: Y/N is always the one taking care of everyone, but tonight Logan decides it’s her turn to let go. Rough, tender, and unapologetically intense, he’ll make sure she doesn’t forget who’s in charge—or how good it feels to be taken care of for once.

Word count: 5.6k

A/N: As @coocoocachewgotscrewed so brilliantly put it, 'As the girl that takes care of everyone: SOMEONE TAKE CARE OF ME.' And that’s how this little fic came to life.

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

The world had never been kind to her softness. In her youth, she'd learned early that the only way to survive was to take up space, to become a force others couldn't ignore, even if they didn't understand it. She had built walls from the ground up, stone by stone until they formed a fortress no one could breach. She had everything together—mostly. She had to. People depended on her and needed her strength to carry them through the chaos of life, so she did. She carried it all. Always.

But there were moments—quiet moments, when the world was still—when the weight of it all pressed against her chest, relentless. The loneliness in her veins. The unspoken ache buried deep within her ribs.

She never asked for help. She didn't need it. Her hands were too used to giving. And when she laughed, when she made jokes about being single—"Men want to be babied. I don't have time to raise a child."—it was easier to mask the truth. It was easier to hide the hunger that lingered beneath her words. The hunger for something she couldn't name, something too soft to fit into the life she'd built.

It was supposed to be just another day, another task, another moment in the long string of motions she went through without thought. But then she saw him—Logan, standing there with that quiet, raw strength of his. The way he didn't try to impress anyone, didn't need to, because the power in him was as much in his silence as it was in his actions. There was no pretense. No façade.

And she hated that it drew her in. 

She hated how much she wanted him—him, the one man who wouldn't cower in her presence, the one who wouldn't need her to be anything other than exactly what she was.

She noticed him more these days, more than she cared to admit. She tried to bury the thoughts, to ignore the way her heart would quicken whenever he was near, the way her body seemed to ache for something it didn't know how to name.

Logan saw it, though. He always did. The way she wore that strength-like armor. But he'd spent enough time with it to know what armor looked like—he knew what it meant to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders and never let anyone see how heavy it was.

He didn't pity her. Hell, he admired her more than anyone he'd ever known. But he saw the cracks. The storm churned behind her eyes. The way she pulled away just when things might have gotten too real, too close. 

She never let anyone in.

But he wasn't afraid of it. Not of her. Not of that ferocity.

And so, on that night, after a thousand little things had piled up until there was no room left for her to breathe, it came out.

Her words were sharp, and cutting, but they were the truth. The raw, jagged truth that she never allowed to be spoken. She was tired of pretending. Tired of holding the world together when no one saw her crumble beneath it.

"What, you think I don't need help? You think I like doing everything myself?" Her voice trembled only slightly, a crack in the fortress that she had so carefully built.

He didn't flinch. Didn't back away. He'd seen that wall before, and he didn't fear it.

He only stepped closer, his presence as solid as the ground beneath them.

"I think you're too damn stubborn to ask for it," he said, his voice low, but the understanding in it was enough to make her heart catch in her throat.

For a moment, the world paused. The storm inside her stilled, and she saw it—really saw it for the first time. He wasn't afraid of her strength. He didn't want to tear it down. He just wanted to be there, beside her, when it all became too much to bear.

He didn't need to fix her. He didn't need to save her.

He just needed to let her be.

Let her lean into him. Let her rest.

Her breath caught as she stepped toward him, her hands trembling, unsure but desperate. For once, she wasn't the one giving. For once, she could be held, could be taken care of. 

Logan's hands were steady, as they always were, but now, they weren't just offering strength. They were offering safety—something she hadn't realized she'd been searching for all along. 

"Hey," he whispered, his voice low, soothing. "You don't have to be strong all the time. You're allowed to let it out." 

The words broke something inside her. Heat prickled behind her eyes, and her chest heaved with the weight of everything she'd kept buried. 

Logan didn't move. He didn't push. He just let her cry, his hand resting firm and comforting on her back, his presence solid as the ground beneath her. 

"Y/N..." His voice was softer now, laced with something she couldn't quite place. Gently, his hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing away her tears with a tenderness that made her knees weak. 

"You don't have to carry it all, bub. Let me in, just this once." 

Her hands shook as she pressed them to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. Grounding her. And when she rubbed her cheek against his palm, the motion instinctive, something inside her gave way. 

Her eyes fell to his lips. The urge to kiss him became impossible to ignore. 

He leaned down, brushing his lips against her forehead, but then he paused, his gaze locking with hers. 

She couldn't stop herself. She leaned in, kissing him hard, desperate for the release, the comfort, the closeness. It was a kiss that broke everything wide open—a kiss that held the weight of everything they'd both been holding back. 

The kiss deepened, the world narrowing to the warmth of his lips and the solid strength of his hands still cradling her face. She felt the tension in her chest unravel, replaced by a need that clawed at her, desperate and all-consuming.

Logan didn't rush. He never did. His hands slid down, slow and deliberate, tracing over her arms until his fingers wrapped around her wrists. He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, his breath hot against her lips.

"No walls. No fightin'. Just let me.", he murmured, his voice gravelly and sure, sending a shiver down her spine. The words hit her like a hammer, shattering the last of her defenses. She wasn't used to this, wasn't used to handing over the reins, but with Logan, it felt...safe. Right.

Her pulse thundered as she nodded, the tiniest of movements, but it was enough for him.

Logan's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile before he kissed her again, deeper this time, his hands guiding hers up and over her head. Her fingers curled instinctively as he pinned her wrists against the wall behind her, the roughness of the surface contrasting with the gentleness of his touch.

"Just let me make you feel good," he said, his voice low and commanding. She exhaled shakily, her head tilting back as his mouth moved to her neck, teeth scraping lightly against her skin before his tongue soothed the spot. Her body arched into him, her hips pressing forward, seeking more, needing more.

"Logan..." Her voice was barely above a whisper, a plea wrapped in the sound of his name.

He hummed against her throat, one hand still holding her wrists in place while the other traveled down her side, his fingers skimming over the curve of her hip. "That's it," he rumbled. "Let me hear you."

Each touch, each kiss, stripped away the layers she'd built to protect herself. She wasn't in control anymore—not of her body, not of her mind, not of the way she melted beneath him. And for once, she didn't care.

Logan moved with a precision that left her breathless, his hand slipping beneath her shirt, rough fingertips tracing the softness of her skin. He paused just below her ribs, his eyes flicking up to hers.

"Say it, darlin'," he coaxed. "Say you'll let me have you."

Her lips parted, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "I'm yours."

And that was all it took.

His hands, calloused and strong, gripped her thighs, hoisting her up with an ease that sent a shiver racing down her spine. She gasped, clinging to his shoulders as her body pressed tightly against his.

"Where's your bedroom?" he growled against her ear, his voice low, gravelly, and filled with the kind of raw command that made her knees weak, though she wasn't even standing.

"End of the hall," she whispered, the words trembling out of her as his teeth grazed her earlobe, a low hum rumbling deep in his chest.

"Good girl," he murmured, the praise almost too rough to feel soft, and yet it sent heat pooling low in her stomach.

He moved through her place with purposeful strides, each step a reminder of the strength coiled in his body. She felt the steady rhythm of his breathing against her chest, the way his arms tightened around her as if he dared anything or anyone to take her from him.

When they reached her bedroom, Logan kicked the door open without hesitation, the force behind it making it swing back against the wall. The dim light from the hallway framed his silhouette—broad shoulders, wild hair, and eyes that burned as he looked down at her.

The room felt smaller with him in it, his presence overwhelming, and consuming. He didn't glance around, didn't make a single remark. His focus was entirely on her as if the world beyond her didn't exist.

"On the bed," he rasped, his voice cutting through the thick silence.

Before she could even process his words, he was lowering her onto the mattress, her back meeting the cool sheets as his hands lingered, pressing her down as he needed her to stay right where she was.

"Logan—"

"Quiet." The single word was sharp and commanding, and it sent a jolt of heat through her.

His eyes roved over her, dark and smoldering, drinking her in as though he was committing every inch of her to memory. One knee pressed into the mattress beside her, his weight shifting as he leaned closer, his hands bracketing her head.

"Spent your whole damn life holdin' everything together," he muttered his tone a mix of frustration and something darker. "Not tonight. Tonight, you're mine."

Her lips parted, but no sound came out, just a sharp intake of breath as he tilted her chin up with his thumb, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"I'm not askin', darlin'." His voice dropped to a growl, sending a shudder down her spine.

Her heart thundered in her chest as his lips claimed hers again, rough and unrelenting, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip just enough to make her gasp. The sound made his grip tighten, his hands sliding down her sides slowly as if savoring the way her body responded to him.

"You don't have to be strong tonight," he murmured against her lips, his voice softer now, though no less commanding. "Let me carry it. Let me carry you."

Her resolve cracked beneath the weight of his words, her body trembling as her hands found his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his dress shirt. For once, she didn't fight. She didn't resist.

She just let go.

Logan's eyes never left hers as he straightened, standing tall above her. His hands were steady as he reached for the hem of her shirt. The air between them felt charged, and heavy, like the moment before a storm.

"Arms up," he commanded, his voice low and rough, leaving no room for hesitation.

She obeyed without a word, raising her arms as he gripped the fabric, his knuckles brushing against her sides. He pulled the shirt up slowly, dragging the material over her skin with a sensuality that made her shiver. The shirt caught for a moment, tangled in her hair, and Logan let out a low chuckle, dark and throaty.

"Relax," he muttered, his voice softer now as he freed her, his fingers lingering against her temple, brushing stray strands away from her face.

The shirt dropped to the floor with a quiet rustle, forgotten the second it left his hand. His gaze roamed over her now-bare skin, unhurried and scorching, like he wanted to memorize every curve, every scar, every inch of her that she'd never let anyone else see.

"You're beautiful," he said, the words rough and quiet as if they weren't meant for her to hear, but they landed with the force of a confession.

Her cheeks burned under his scrutiny, but there was no hiding from him. He stepped closer, his hands moving to the waistband of her jeans. His fingers brushed her skin, calloused and warm, and she bit back a gasp as he popped the button with ease.

"Look at me," he ordered, his tone low but firm.

Her eyes met his, and the intensity in his gaze made her breath hitch. He was utterly focused as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world. Slowly, he slid the zipper down, the sound loud in the quiet room.

"Lift your hips," he murmured, his hands curling around the waistband, tugging the denim down with maddening slowness.

She shifted, doing as he asked, and he peeled the jeans away, dragging them down her legs. His fingers brushed her calves, and her ankles before the fabric joined her shirt on the floor. The air felt colder now, her skin hypersensitive to every little movement, every little touch.

Logan's eyes raked over her, his expression dark and unreadable. Then he reached out, his hands gripping her ankles, his thumbs running along the delicate bone there. He tugged her toward him, pulling her to the edge of the bed with a strength that made her stomach flip.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he growled, his voice ragged, laced with something almost feral.

Her heart raced as he leaned down, his fingers hooking into the thin straps of her bra, sliding them off her shoulders with an aching slowness. The straps fell away, his knuckles grazing her skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"You don't need this," he murmured, his lips brushing the curve of her collarbone as he reached behind her, unhooking the clasp with a practiced ease.

The bra slipped from her body, and Logan let it fall without a glance, his hands already returning to her, tracing a path down her sides. His palms were warm, rough in the best way, and they left trails of fire wherever they touched.

"Every inch of you," he whispered, his lips ghosting over her skin as his hands slid lower. "Mine."

Her breath hitched, her body arching toward him instinctively, surrendering completely to his touch.

Logan's hands paused at her hips, his fingers slipping under the thin elastic of her panties. His gaze flicked up to hers, holding her there with an intensity that made her pulse thunder in her ears.

She nodded, her voice failing her, but it didn't matter. Logan saw everything he needed in her eyes.

With one smooth motion, he slid the last barrier from her body, baring her completely to him. He stood there for a moment, his gaze raking over her with a hunger that made her shiver.

"Perfect," he muttered, more to himself than to her, before leaning down, his lips brushing against her ear.

"Now let me show you what it means to let go."

Logan knelt between her legs, his hands on her knees, gently parting them as he moved with calm, deliberate intent. She froze for a second, a wave of embarrassment washing over her as she realized she hadn't shaved. Her gaze quickly flicked away, her cheeks flushing with the sudden vulnerability she felt.

But Logan noticed. He looked at her with a reassuring, almost amused smirk, his eyes flickering down her body before meeting hers again.

"Don't," he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he pressed a thumb along her inner thigh. "I like it just like this."

Her breath hitched at his words, the tension in her body slowly melting under his touch.

He lowered himself slowly, nuzzling his face against her inner thighs, placing soft, teasing kisses along their expanse. His right hand moved to her center, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to her sensitive bud. His middle and ring fingers slid over her hole, collecting her wetness, and spreading it across her labia.

"She's drooling for me," he murmured as his fingers slowly began to push inside, allowing her to adjust to the stretch. He kept his gaze fixed on her face, watching her pleasure as his fingers began to pump in and out, each movement deliberate and slow.

His fingers continued their rhythmic motion, working in tandem with his mouth. He moved his tongue over her clit, the tip flicking over the sensitive skin in a slow, teasing rhythm that made her body arch toward him. Her hands fisted the sheets beneath her, desperately trying to hold onto something as the heat of his touch seared into her.

"Logan... please," she gasped, her voice trembling, her hips pressing closer to his face.

Logan didn't stop. His tongue flicked faster now, tracing every curve, every inch of her, his mouth drinking in her arousal. She couldn't stop herself anymore; her back arched as her body responded to him, the tension building within her like a wave. "So good," she moaned, her voice breathy and desperate.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Logan murmured against her skin, his voice rough, thick with desire. He paused for a moment, lifting his head to look up at her. "I can feel you shaking. Let go."

She shuddered under his gaze, the command in his voice stripping away the last of her resistance. Her body wanted to obey, to give herself over completely to the sensations he was creating. "I can't... I need you, Logan," she pleaded, tangling her fingers in his hair, urging him back to her, wordlessly begging for more.

Logan smirked, his hands sliding down her sides, gripping her hips tightly as he pulled her closer to his mouth, continuing the rhythm with even more force, more hunger. Every lick, every flick of his tongue brought her closer to the edge.

He could feel the way her body tightened, the way her breath quickened. And then, without warning, his mouth pressed harder against her clit, his tongue moving with desperate speed as he drove her to the brink. She moaned loudly, her body shuddering as she reached the edge. "Logan... oh god," she cried out, completely surrendering to the pleasure.

As she caught her breath, her body still humming with the lingering sensation of his touch, a quiet yearning stirred within her. She sat up, her eyes locking onto his as she gently took his hand. Without a word, she brought his fingers to her lips, her eyes never leaving his. She traced them with her tongue, sucking them clean, savoring the taste of her arousal, before pulling back just a little.

"Dirty girl…" he said, his left hand cupping her cheek.

"I could be sucking something else", she said seductively.

He looked at her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "You don't have to," he murmured, his voice low, steady.

"I want to. Please."

Logan stood up slowly, keeping his eyes locked with hers. There was an intensity in his gaze, an unspoken challenge, and a silent invitation all at once.

She positioned herself on her knees before him. Her movements were deliberate, almost hypnotic, as her hands traced the strong lines of his shoulders, sliding down his chest, and over the hard muscles of his belly.

When her fingers reached his belt, she didn't hesitate. With a swift motion, she unbuckled it, the leather slipping free with an audible click before it fell to the floor. Her hands moved quickly to the button of his dress pants, flicking it open, and she slowly lowered the zipper.

She tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it free from his waistband. Her fingers, delicate yet determined, began to unbutton the shirt, one button at a time. Her gaze never left him, and the way her hands worked with such slow precision sent a wave of heat through his chest. The act was intimate, each button a whispered invitation.

Once the shirt was undone, she moved to the cuffs, gently opening them before pressing a soft kiss to the back of each of his hands. Logan closed his eyes briefly at the touch, the tenderness of it catching him off guard. His thumb stroked the curve of her cheek, the touch affectionate, reverent.

There was something magnetic about the way she undressed him—each movement slow and filled with purpose. Her eyes held a quiet hunger that mirrored his own, a silent language between them that made his pulse quicken.

He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall carelessly to the floor. She didn't waste a moment, pulling his pants and boxers down his legs in one smooth, fluid motion, letting them drop to the floor as he stepped out of the garment.

He stood there, bare in front of her. His body was exposed, but it wasn't the nudity that left him feeling vulnerable. It was the way his body didn't respond like it once had, the slow burn of frustration creeping in.

But that did not deter her. She braced herself on all fours, the movement full of quiet confidence. Leaning in, she began licking and gently sucking at his balls, the heat of her mouth sending a shiver through him. His breath hitched as her right hand took hold of his semi-hard dick, her touch light but teasing, coaxing him to respond. The softness of her lips, the pressure of her hand, stirred something deep inside him, and he could feel himself slowly hardening.

She licked a long stripe from his balls up to his tip, her mouth hot against his skin. The sudden surge of sensation had him grunting low, his hands instinctively finding their way into her hair, fingers curling into her locks as he pulled her closer.

"Fuck," Logan breathed, his voice low and rough, as his grip tightened on her hair, pulling her in deeper, the feeling of her mouth sending waves of heat through him. "Don't stop," he muttered.

Y/N could feel him growing heavier and thick in her mouth. She released his dick with a loud pop and with both hands began pumping it.

At the sight Logan closed his eyes and let his head fall back, the hold on her hair tightening. She took him in her mouth and, hollowing her cheeks, began taking him deeper.

She gagged around him when her nose reached the grey hairs on the base and pulled back coughing, a string of saliva connecting her to his member.

Y/N looked up and smiled mischievously seeing him fully erect.

Logan pushed her onto the bed, his hands firmly pinning her wrists to the mattress as he hovered over her. His eyes locked onto hers.

"You're trouble," he finally muttered, his voice deep and rough.

She smirked, but there was a glint of challenge in her eyes. "You don't seem to mind," she teased, her breath hitching as his gaze darkened with hunger.

His lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. Without warning, he moved, pinning her down more securely. "No, I don't," he growled, his voice low as he leaned in closer, brushing his lips over her neck.

Her breath quickened as she felt the weight of his body pressing against hers. She could feel the heat radiating off him, and despite herself, she arched up, meeting the intensity of his gaze. He was in control now, his hands steady as he guided her into place.

He took a breath, his lips brushing against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "You're going to beg for it," he whispered. His tone was rough, yet there was a subtle edge of something softer, almost possessive. "And I'll make sure you don't forget who's in charge."

She bit her lip, anticipating what he would do next.

Logan smiled darkly and kissed her again, his right hand traveling down her chest and grabbing her right breast, giving it a harsh squeeze.

He positioned himself between her legs, gripping his member at the base as he ran his tip along her sensitive center, teasing her with deliberate strokes from her clit to her entrance. Each motion made her hips twitch, her body responding instinctively to his touch.

Her moans filled the room, "Logan," she said breathlessly.

"Yes?"

She closed her legs around him pulling him closer. Logan laughed at her antics. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned back slightly, gathering spit in his mouth before letting it fall onto her, aiding his movement.

Her moans became desperate, almost broken, her hands clutching at his forearms. "Logan," she whimpered, her voice raw with need. "Please… I need you."

His smirk deepened as he held her gaze, the intensity in his eyes making her squirm beneath him. "I told you, you'd beg" he murmured, his voice low and rough.

Her chest heaved, her lips trembling with the words she couldn't seem to stop. "I'm yours, Logan. Please…"

One large hand moved to her throat, his palm pressing gently against her skin, holding her in place. His thumb traced the line of her jaw as his other hand gripped her thigh, pulling her even closer. "Mine," he growled, his tone possessive, claiming.

The pressure at her throat made her head swim, a strange mix of restraint and trust that sent a bolt of heat through her. She arched into his hold, her body surrendering completely.

"You like this, don't you?" he rasped, his lips brushing against hers but not quite touching. His voice was low and commanding, but there was a glint of something softer beneath it, a promise just out of reach.

Her breath hitched, and she let out a shaky moan, her hands clutching at his wrist. "Yes," she whispered, desperate and trembling.

His mouth curved into a wicked smirk as his hand shifted, loosening his hold just enough for her to feel the contrast. "Let me take care of you," he murmured, dragging his thumb along the curve of her jaw.

The words lingered in the air, heavy with intent but unspoken in full. His free hand slid down her body, fingers tracing her curves with a deliberateness that made her skin tingle.

She whimpered, her body responding to every calculated movement. "Logan..."

He leaned in, his lips ghosting over her ear. "Stop thinking. Just feel," he whispered, the edge of his voice rough yet grounding. "That's all I want from you tonight."

He shifted between her legs, his hands gripping her hips, lifting her with ease as he positioned himself. The heat of his body pressed against hers, and her heart thudded in her chest, anticipation coiling tightly in her core.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmured, his voice a rough whisper.

She nodded, her breath hitching as she felt the tip of his member pressing against her entrance. With a slow, fluid motion, he eased himself inside, feeling the resistance of her body disappearing.

Y/N threw her head back, a low moan slipping from her lips as her body adjusted to his length, "Fuck," she breathed, unable to hide the raw need in her voice.

She bit her lip at the feeling of him twitching inside of her. Logan leaned forward, his tongue sliding down the side of her neck. He then moved to her breasts, attaching his mouth to one of her nipples and sucking. He released her nipple.

"Breathe," he whispered, his hand sliding up to rest on her waist, grounding her. "I've got you."

He straightened up, his body towering over hers, and braced his hand on the headboard as he drew his hips back, the feel of his withdrawal sending a shiver through her. She barely had time to adjust before he slammed back into her.

She was trembling beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she tried to keep up with the brutal rhythm he set. Every time he pulled out, every time he pushed back in, the pressure inside her built, and she couldn't help but whimper.

He picked up the pace, his thrusts turning faster, more brutal, as he pushed into her with a hunger that matched the fire in her veins. Her hips moved to meet him, desperate for more, and he responded with a growl of approval, his hands tightening on her hips to anchor her in place as his rhythm grew harder, more punishing.

"Fuck Y/N."

She smiled at him.

"You like that, don't you?" Logan's voice was rough, and dark, as he pulled back slightly, only to push in even harder.

She couldn't stop herself from moaning, the sharpness of the sensation hitting her in waves.

"That's right," Logan growled, his grip on her hips like iron as he rocked into her with force.

Her body responded without thought, her legs wrapping tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper, faster as if she couldn't get enough. The sound of skin slapping echoed in the room, mixing with the desperate gasps coming from her lips.

Without warning, he shifted his position, his hands leaving her hips for a moment, only to slip under her and lift her body, pulling her into a new angle. She gasped, the sudden shift throwing her off balance, but Logan's grip on her was firm, and controlling, as he guided her back onto him.

Her back arched instinctively, the new position deepening their connection, and she moaned, her hands reaching for the headboard to brace herself. Logan's thrusts grew slower but deeper, more deliberate now, aimed to bring her right to the brink.

Logan's hand came down hard on her left asscheek jolting Y/N forward.

"Logan…" she gasped, her voice trembling with need.

He could hear it—the desperation in her voice, the way her body was bucking against his. He watched her face, her eyes closed tight, her lips parted in a silent plea for release. He wanted to hear her, wanted to feel her break under him.

He gave one last hard, deep thrust, then paused, letting the sensation build before pulling back almost completely. She whimpered, the loss of movement driving her crazy, and before she could protest, he repositioned again, this time bending her further back, his hands now holding her shoulders down as he ran his member between her asscheeks.

Her breath hitched as she looked back at him, over her shoulder, her eyes filled with raw desire.

Logan didn't wait any longer. He positioned himself behind her, his hands firmly gripping her hips as he pushed into her slowly at first, savoring the tight, intense heat that engulfed him. The change in angle sent a shockwave of pleasure through her, and she moaned, her hands clutching at the sheets in desperation.

"Fuck," Logan muttered, his voice low and full of grit as he began to move, his thrusts quick and forceful, each one pushing her further into the bed.

She gasped with each hard thrust, the pleasure taking over her senses, her body rocking in time with his. The deeper connection from this position sent waves of bliss coursing through her, and she pressed back into him, her hips meeting his with every thrust.

"Does this feel better?" Logan growled, his hands tightening on her hips, guiding her with raw intensity.

She could barely manage a breathless, "Yes, harder…"

His thrusts grew harder, faster, and relentless, pushing her toward the edge.

She couldn't hold back anymore, "Logan …I'm gonna…"

His strokes grew sloppier as he grabbed her neck, angling her face so he could kiss her.

Y/N's moans filled the room. The mixture of his hard thrusts and the slap of his balls on her ass pushed her over the edge as she began shaking.

Y/N fell forward, her face on the bed and her ass in the air. Logan didn't stop. His hands opened her asscheeks as he watched his thick, veiny member going in and out of her hole, creating a creamy ring at the base of his member.

The new angle allowed Logan to continuously hit her cervix. "Be a good girl, come on my dick."

Her hands fisted the sheets and Logan, with his thumb began circling her other hole. The new stimulation tipped Y/N over the edge as she came hard on his member.

Logan didn't stop. Didn't even slow down as he followed her, his movements like a force of nature, unyielding, as he pushed her through the waves of pleasure, every last inch of her shaking with the force of it.

Her mouth fell open as she felt him stilling and his release spilling inside of her.

"Fuck!", he said, throwing his head back.

He remained still for a moment but then pulled out when he felt his member softening. He sat on his knees admiring their joint releases dripping out of her spent hole.

"Jesus, that's a fucking sight.", his index finger reached collecting the release and pushing it back.

Y/N moaned and fell on her stomach. He removed his fingers and lay next to her.

"Did it help?", he asked playfully.

"Shut up Logan."

______________________________________________________________

© th3mrskory 2025 — all rights reserved.

[heeikeuu]

In Your Embrace Is My Solitude

» how lads men comfort you during a panic attack

» pairing ��� lads x fem!reader

» genre – fluff, comfort, romance

» warnings – blood, panic attacks, teeny tiny angst, violence (please let me know if I missed anything)

note: my first official lads fic! Sorry for any typos in advance, enjoy!

ZAYNE:

Returning from a rough mission, you were badly injured and needed to attend to your wounds immediately. However you couldn't stop thinking about how you childishly fought with your fiance this morning because he kept telling you to not go alone on this mission but you argued back that you weren't a little girl and could handle yourself. But those words came to bite you right in the ass as you returned home at 1:30am covered in blood. It was hard to tell if it was mostly your blood or the wanderers. You weakly made your way to the hallway. You were nervous to face Zayne because you didn't want to burden your already tired and hard-working fiance, knowing he already does so much for you. What you didn't know is that he was sitting in the living room, worried sick, waiting for you. Your body froze seeing him. He looked at you and felt his heart drop. He instantly made his way to you, "What happened? Darling, are you alright? Why are you covered in blood?" His questions were rushing, but you could barely hear him anymore. Your anxiety spiked up further as you buried your face in his warmth. Zayne wasn't sure if he should hold you or not because he didn't want to make your injuries worse, but then he heard faint sobs and "I'm sorrys." Leave your lips. His heart ached, but he held back his tongue from scolding you. Instead, he gently inspected your body and held you. Your knees felt weak, and so did your entire body. Before you could collapse, Zayne carried you to the bedroom to care for your wounds and clean you up. Your body was still shaking as he wiped off the blood. Though Zayne wasn't a man of many words, he gently held your hand, "Next time, I'll be more careful, I'm sorry." You told him sincerely, "there is no need to apologize, darling. There will be no next time, I won't let you get hurt like this ever again."

SYLUS:

The night was very lively. You would argue too lively as the air felt stuffy. You had agreed to attend a charity event with your lover. However, you underestimated just how well known he would be during this event. You felt very uneasy, like eyes were on you almost as if they were trying to cut through the depths of your soul. Feeling your ears ringing as you were spacing out without realize. Suddenly, you felt a warm hand hold your own which was clamy, looking up you notice it was Sylus, he looked at you knowingly with a soft gaze and squeezed your hand twice, asking you if you're okay. You didn't want to ruin the night, so you simply nodded and flashed the best fake smile you could muster up, but he wasn't convinced. Pulling you towards his chest, he whispers to you, "Honey, if you're not feeling, we can always go home. There is no pressure to stay here, and I'm not going anywhere." His words eased your heart, making you calm down a bit more. Looking up at him, you no longer wanted to protest. Scared to use your voice, you just nodded again. He gently yet with a firm grip took your hand again and led you to his car to go home. His job was done for the night, and his wife was his top priority no matter what.

CALEB:

Waking up from a nightmare, you felt your sweaty body shake as you were trying to process that it wasn't real. Your hand instinctively reached out to your right side, expecting to feel your boyfriend next to you. However, you don't. You felt your anxiety spike up even more. You hadn't even bothered to check your phone or the time. You quickly got up from your shared bed and went to look for Caleb. You looked everywhere and couldn't find him. Tears flooded your vision further, scared that something happened to him like it did in your nightmare. What if he got into a fight with wanderers like the ones in you saw, you started pacing, heart pounding, hyperventilating now with tears streaming down your face because you remember the last thing you said to your boyfriend was that you couldn't promise to live a 100 years with him. After 2 minutes passed, you didn't seem to notice the soft click of the apartment door opening and closing, caleb came into view. Shocked at your state. Without hesitation, he immediately set down the groceries he got to make breakfast for you on the ground and ran up to check on you. Your body froze once you saw him and immediately ran into his arms. He held you protectively, "shhhh, I'm here, angel. Look at me, yeah?" He spoke ever so gently as he held your face in his hands. Looking at him, through your blurred vision, you see him kiss your tears away, his warmth a sharp contrast to how cold your body felt. "Do you want a distraction or a hug, angel?" He asked carefully, "a hug," you whispered. He held you until you calmed down and soon made you both breakfast to eat as it was 6am.

XAVIER:

You didn't mean to, but you had been spacing out too often today. You felt uneasy and kept trying to distract yourself however you could. You and Xavier were cuddling on the couch, watching old films together, but as Xavier was talking to you and explaining the movie's plot, you kept absentmindedly nodding. He eventually caught on and grabbed your chin, making you face him. "What's wrong, starlight? You've been out of it since this morning," He asked sweetly while carefully observing your body language. He noticed. He saw the way your eyes got ever so glossy, how your hands were sweaty, your fast heartbeat, and how you tried to discreetly stop your legs from shaking. You tried to speak but kept stuttering, "deep breaths, slowly." He talked you through it while holding your cheek with one hand and your waist with the other, bringing impossibly closer to him. You had trouble controlling your mind and often had panic attacks due to your intrusive thoughts. They always came unexpectedly and you couldn't stop them. You had been suppressing your feelings since this morning, but you ended up breaking down in front of your boyfriend. Tears were streaming down your face, "I-I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me today," you voice muffled as he brought you to his chest, softly petting your hair and rocking back and forth with you in his arms. "It's okay, starlight. I'm not mad, I won't go anywhere, and yes I made sure to turn off the stove earlier" he joked at the last part making you giggle softly at his attempt to make you smile. You stayed like that for a while, feeling whole and safe in his arms.

RAFAYEL:

You were out with your friends having a great time after not seeing them for a long time, but you couldn't shake off the feeling of someone's piercing gaze on you. You brushed it off a few times. It's probably nothing, you thought to yourself as you excused yourself to the bathroom to wash up. Your heels clicking, but you were on high alert of your surroundings. Too high that you got lost in your mind, "going somewhere, miss?" An eerie voice spoke, flinching slightly. You look up and notice a strange man looking at you like you were deer caught in his trap. His smile got wider as he stepped closer to you. Shit what do I do, I don't have my weapons on me, you notice he had a knife, trapped between his large body, you felt your body and mind panic, you felt the cold dagger pressed closer to your pulse point drawing some blood in its awake. You tried to rack your brain on how to escape this situation swiftly, "You tell that lousy boyfriend of yours to not meddle in my business," the man threatened with a crazy look in his eyes. Rafayel? As if on que, your thoughts came to a halt as you heard his voice, the next few seconds were all a blur as you saw the man being pinned against the hallway walls with a deadly grip, "touching a woman without permission is a lousy move," Rafayel's voice said mockingly, "but touching my woman without her permission is a death wish." He spoke as the man cried in fear apologizing again and again. Rafayel wasn't having any of it. He threw the man onto the ground roughly before his gaze softened as he turned to look at you. Holding you in his arms, "shhh, it's okay, cutie, I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you, yeah?" His tone ever so sweet and soft. Your shaking body slowly calmed down afterward. Part of you knew that if you weren't here right now, that man would've been killed off in cold blood, yet you weren't scared of Rafayel. You knew he could never hurt you or let anyone hurt you.

Special tag; @imaluvsj7

© heeikeuu | likes and reblogs are appreciated ♡

[trafficblrpositivityproject]

some people on here don't need positivity asks. popular artists and writers for example. they get enough love, show love to smaller creators instead

Hello anon! You seem confused about how this blog works. Since it seems you are not aware, this is a submission-based blog! (✨0✨) Any person can submit anyone else, regardless of how "popular" that person is. The submission button is in fact the same button you hit to send me this unfortunate and rude ask!

I assume you are not aware of this, as this ask is the only ask you sent me. No other asks, on or off anon, came in alongside this ask. Especially not any asks sending in positivity for small creators, who you claim to be concerned about. But that cannot be right, because if that were true, I would have to conclude you do not actually care about small creators at all, and only want to complain about popular creators getting positivity, which would be not very nice!

Oh, and another thing. One of this blog's only rules is to not put down one member of this fandom in order to uplift another. I assume you did not read the rules in my description, since you did not know I am submission based, so I thought I would let you know!

Ah, but actually though.

"Popular" writers and artists are in fact also people who work hard and provide the fandom with amazing works. There are a lot of popular artists and writers whose work I genuinely admire, and I am happy to use this space to express this admiration. They deserve appreciation for what they do, and as long as people are willing to submit them, I am going to post them.

(Additionally, on an entirely practical level, who am I to decide when someone is "too popular" to be posted? I cannot see anyone's follower counts. This is in fact a main feature of tumblr. Would I just be going by guess? This seems an inefficient system.) (Not that I think you care about this. I assume you have a specific list of users in your head that you, personally, subjectively, do not like, and you want me to adhere to it for your petty grudge.)

One of the many, many reasons I started this blog was in response to how certain people use confessions blogs, where I saw space for people to post anons about how they disliked popular artists and writers, such as how they hated a certain person's art or writing style, often specifying those people by name on anon to a blog with many many followers, where that person will unfortunately see it.

Another of the many, many reasons I started this blog is for my friends who are on the more popular end of the fandom, and how people treat them directly. What they have shown me of their inboxes is nightmarish, with people being rude, entitled, or cruel, simply because they assume that people's humanity does not count after a certain amount of followers. And, in the interest of full disclosure, though I am not extraordinarily popular on my main account, I have gotten my own share of nightmare anons as well.

A third of the many, many reasons I started this blog is because I have seen tumblr users post about other tumblr users by name and how they do not like their art/writing/creations, do not think they deserve their success or support, or simply do not like them without ever even meeting them. They will then post those uncaring words in those user's tumblr tags, again where those people will see them.

All of this made me very sad, because it seemed like somewhere along the way, people seemed to forget those artists and writers are people. Being popular (or perceived as popular) in fandom comes with many benefits, this is true, but it also emboldens the absolute worst members of fandom to be cruel to people they think are an acceptable target.

None of this sort of attitude makes fandom a fun place to be. Fandom is meant to be a community, based in mutual love for the same story. It is meant for making art, or writing, or cosplay, or songs, or other creations. It is made for sharing those creations with strangers who love the same thing you do, and sharing excitement and passion with other fans. It is meant for making friends. It is made out of, and meant for, love. Fandom is not only made worthwhile, but kept alive, through our support for one another.

You may think me a popular artist/writer dick-rider for acknowledging the humanity and fandom contributions of popular creators. I do not mind. I am sorry for you that simply believing people should be kind to one another, or that artists and writers should be recognized for their hard work, is so skewed in your head. I will not apologize for being kind to people, or for providing a space for kindness.

Do not mistake my existence as a positivity blog for me being a pushover. I will absolutely not tolerate any of this sort of attitude on this blog. This is a blog based in kindness, and I will shut down any asks which aim to sow any sort of rudeness.

If you actually care about small creators, be the change you want to see. Submit small creators. I am literally constantly begging for submissions, and I would love for people to submit any and all creators, big or small. I myself have submitted plenty of anons about small creators to my own blog. One of the best parts of this blog is learning about lots of creators I would not have known about before because you all submit small folks. Our support for each other is not just fandom at its best. It is what fandom is for.

All this said. Do not be hateful slime in my inbox again. I do not want to block you, because I think you, too, deserve positivity, if you receive it. But I will block you if you persist. Thank you.

[merigoldaround]

I'm finally going to get my album, probably early next week (this time it didn't take two months). It's funny how such a little thing can cheer you up a little, I really needed this today.