#I’m starting to get myself back little by little

[sceletaflores]

I COULD PLAY THE DOCTOR (I CAN CURE YOUR DISEASE)

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.1k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, logan's pov, written with origins!logan in mind, nat veering dangerously closer to a/b/o territory with every passing day, rut cycles, oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), multiple orgasms, gratuitous amounts of dirty talk, p in v, rough sex, biting, hair pulling, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, one (1) single use of the word daddy, scent kink, pain kink, breeding kink ofc, knotting (don’t look at me…), squirting, porn w/ plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: don’t look at me…i don’t know how many times i swore up and down i’d never write something like this but i’m a confirmed liar apparently so…here. i mean i just figured i'm in a rut artistically so therefore the only answer is writing logan in a rut physically...i can do what i want and i don't need to explain myself or my horny thoughts. also, i debated posting this in the wake of everything that's gone down over the past two days that is still escalating and will continue to escalate in the coming weeks, but i think everyone could use a little escape from how scary things may seem right now. take a break from all the terrifying news sites and read about logan wanting to breed you :) kisses!

divider by angel @saradika-graphics!

it's been another six months, and logan needs your help...

The burn starts on the walk home from work, a pulse of heat deep in Logan's gut that grows with every step.

It spreads slowly, sinking into his muscles and seeping up his spine as he rounds the last corner, your place less than a block away now.

It caught him off guard this time, an itch burying itself under his skin earlier in the day only to get worse and worse as he worked.

He usually knew the signs well enough to feel them start creeping in, and he was dead sure it wasn't for another few weeks.

Apparently, he was wrong.

Logan’s jaw clenches as he picks up his pace, every nerve ending in his body straining to break into a full blown sprint at the thought of you, all alone and waiting for him.

His fingers curl into tight fists, nails pressing into his palms to ground himself, though it’s hardly enough. The faint scent of you drifts up from his shirt, not even a long day at the lumberyard enough to drown it out.

By the time he reaches your door, his heartbeat is a heavy thud in his ears, syncing with the building ache of desire wracking through his body like the earth rattling boom of a raging thunder storm.

He fumbles through getting his key into the lock, hands unsteady as he tugs the door open with a little more force than necessary and finally steps inside.

The second he closes the door behind him, the heat surges, thrumming through his veins and flooding his chest. Your scent fills the air completely, stronger now, wrapping around him so thick and sweet.

"Darlin'?" His voice comes out rougher than he intends, but he's beyond caring.

Your voice floats from the other room, casual, warm enough to send a jolt through him. Logan drops his axe from his shoulder, leaning it against the door as he starts down the familiar path to your bedroom.

You're spread out on his side of the bed—oblivious, curled up with a book, wrapped in one of the flannels he must have left the last time he stayed over.

Just the sight of you does something to him, like a match dragged against a strike pad, damned on setting everything ablaze.

You glance up, and the soft smile on your lips falters as you catch sight of him.

Logan knows what he must look like, his eyes all dark and predatory, chest heaving as he rakes his hungry gaze over you like a wolf watches a lamb grazing too close to its den.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just stalks toward you with a purpose that’s as undeniable as the heat pouring off him in waves.

The book slips from your fingers, forgotten, as you lean back, the small sound of your breath hitching under the weight of his gaze is music to his ears.

Logan pauses at the edge of the bed, towering over you, letting himself drink in the way you look. So soft and serene, like some kind of invitation that begs him closer. His flannel draped loosely over your shoulders–shrouding you in his scent. 

The urge to pounce on you fights against his normal instinct to savor every second, to draw it out until the heat pooling in his gut becomes downright unbearable.

“Been thinkin’ about you all damn day,” he mutters, voice thick and dark as molasses, rough from restraint he’s quickly losing. His knuckles brush against your thigh, then tighten, holding you in place as he leans down, his breath hot against your neck. “Thinkin’ about what I was gonna when I finally got my hands on you.”

Your skin blooms with warmth beneath his touch, and he grins against your neck, the edge of his teeth grazing you just enough to make you squirm. He growls low in his throat, that itch he’s been fighting nearly all day clawing its way up to the surface with a vengeance.

The primal urge inside of him screaming to claim claim claim take take take mate mate mate breed breed breed.

You tilt your head to the side with a soft sigh, freeing up more space for him to nose along your skin. “Is it time?”

Logan's breath catches as your question hangs in the air, thick with anticipation. The soft simplicity of it ignites the wildfire burning in his gut, every ounce of restraint slipping away like sand through his fingers.

“Yeah, baby,” he growls, slipping his fingers under the worn cotton of your shorts, feeling the bare skin beneath. “It’s time.”

You shift, hands going to the buttons of his flannel like you’re going to take it off. Logan stops you, taking your wrists in his free hand.

“Don’t,” he breathes, shaking his head hard enough that his hair flows with it. “Leave it on.”

The thought of you covered in his scent, of his scent mixing with yours to claim you on a level only he can discern sends his mind buzzing.

You look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and something in him cracks wide open. The tenderness of your gaze pulls at him, like a tether pulling him back from the edge, but that heat still smolders in his blood, fierce and unyielding.

Logan runs his thumb along the racing pulse of your wrist before he drops them. His hands venture lower, fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, tracing a deliberate path that makes your body tremble under his touch.

You let out a shuddering breath, the scent of your arousal swirling through the air is enough to make him crave more.

In one rough tug, Logan yanks you towards the edge of the bed as he falls to his knees. Your hips held tight in his hands as he lurches forward, burying his nose in the soft junction where your leg and inner thigh meet.

He inhales deep, greedy lungfuls of your scent. A guttural growl rumbles through his chest, his eyes screwing shut at the sheer amount of too much that courses through him. He feels dizzy with it, high on the pheromones pumping from you in waves.

You’re soaked already, the wet fabric of your shorts melded to the shape of your cunt. He can’t help but run his nose along the slick seam of you, reveling in the way your legs twitch on either side of his head, in the short gasp you let out.

“Logan.” Your voice is nothing but a mewl, pleading and desperate.

“Missed you,” he rasps, his voice rough, almost unrecognizable. The edge of need in him makes his hands shake, sliding up your thighs, urging them even further apart as he settles between them.

Logan’s fingers dig into your skin, he lets his thumbs brush up, hooking them into the waistband of your shorts to tug them down your legs in one sharp yank. He groans at the sight of you completely bare, no underwear.

“Fuck, look at you,” he grates, his thumb coming down to slip through your dripping cunt. Your hole flutters desperately around him, needy little clenches like it’s trying to suck him in. “She’s all ready for me, huh? Been waiting for me to come home and give her some attention?”

“Please,” you whimper, your voice thick with longing, the sound going straight to his head, clouding his thoughts. 

Logan’s pulse races as he watches your body arch instinctively toward his touch, the desperate need in your eyes igniting the raw urges coursing through him.

He can’t deny you; he never could. You’re a feast laid out before him, and he’s starving.

Logan leans closer, letting his tongue flick out to taste you like he’s wanted to since he left for work this morning. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, closing his eyes and losing himself in the moment. He licks a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit, savoring the way your body responds, the way your legs tremble and your hips twitch against his mouth, seeking more. “Tastes like fuckin’ heaven, sweetheart.”

The taste of you is intoxicating—sweet and tangy, flooding his senses with every drag and swirl of his tongue.

Logan can’t help but moan against you, the sound vibrating through your body as he dives deeper, his nose nudging against your slick entrance as he shakes his head back and forth like an animal—rubbing the plush skin of your inner thighs red and raw with each rough drag of his coarse beard.

Every flick of his tongue sends a shockwave through you, and he revels in the sounds you make—each whimper, each moan, a siren’s call urging him deeper. He laves his tongue around your clit, sucking it gently, pulling at it with his lips as you writhe beneath him, begging for more. 

He keeps your thighs spread wide, two strong hands pinning them to the mattress so he can devour you just the way you deserve, the sharp dig of your heels into his shoulders only spurs him on.

Your hands bury themselves in his hair, tugging him closer, and he groans into you, letting his tongue delve deeper, seeking out every bit of sweetness he can coax from you. 

It’s pure sin, each sound you make, each shiver that runs through you as he takes his time, drinking you down like a man starved. 

The ache in him intensifies, his own need growing, pulsing. He’s hard, has been hard since he walked through the front door.

His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans, need pulsing in time with each pump of his blood through his shaft, circling around the base, threatening to expand even without the tight grip of your pussy surrounding him. His hips jerk up on their own volition, desperate for any friction.

“Just like that, Logan,” you gasp, voice breathy and trembling with pleasure. 

The way you say his name—raw, desperate—makes his blood run hotter. He grips your thighs tighter, anchoring you to the bed as he drinks you in, wanting to lose himself in you completely.

Logan pulls away just long enough to catch his breath, looking up at you with lust-drunk eyes, drinking in the sight of your sweaty cheeks, your heavy-lidded gaze, the way your chest rises and falls with each shuddering breath.

The pulse of his cock intensifies, urging him to speed things along. The base desire of his own instincts is getting harder and harder to ignore under your adoring stare.

He feeds his fingers into your clenching hole with no warning, a satisfied smirk tugging his lips up at your sharp gasp. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, the entire lower half of his face still shining with your essence.

Your cunt swallows him, two thick fingers sinking into the velvety heat like it’s nothing.

Logan groans as he feels you clench around him, your walls fluttering and drawing him in deeper. “That’s it, baby,” he mutters, his voice hoarse with need. “So fuckin’ ready for me, so ready for daddy’s fingers in your pussy.”

Your mouth drops open in another devastatingly desperate noise, your hands twist his hair roughly, soft breasts rising and falling each time you gasp for air. The dim light of the sunset filters in through the blinds, highlighting the curves of your body, slick and shining with a thin sheen of sweat.

Every clench of your walls around his fingers shoots a thrill straight to his cock, making him ache with the urge to bury himself inside you. The overwhelming need to take you completely, to mark you and fill you, pulses through his veins until he feels like he might explode.

But he’s not done tasting you yet. Not until you’re practically dripping onto the sheets.

He lowers his mouth back to your core, sucking your clit into his mouth as his fingers pump faster. The sudden intensity makes your thighs shake around his head, and he grins against you. He wants to see you fall apart—wants to feel it.

“Logan—please, I…” You can barely get the words out, voice breaking as your whole body strains against him, desperate and needy.

The wet slap of his palm against your spit soaked cunt is loud in the quiet of your bedroom, blending with the loud keens that fall from your parted lips. He crooks his fingers, rubbing at that soft, spongy spot inside of you.

“Come on,” he mutters, slick lips brushing against your clit as he speaks. “Give it to me, baby. Show me you're ready for my cock."

He drags the sharp edge of his canine against your pulsing clit with barely any pressure, and you're coming.

Your whole body tenses, back bowing off the mattress as you let out a broken cry of his name. The bite of your nails digging into his scalp feels harsh enough to draw blood, a feeble attempt at grounding yourself against the onslaught of pleasure. 

Your trembling thighs tighten around his shoulders, gripping him like a vice as your shaking cunt gushes around his fingers. Logan groans at the feeling, eyes slipping shut as you drench his wrist and chin in your juices.

Even then, he doesn’t let up, fingers pumping relentlessly as he draws out every pulse, every aftershock of your climax, every tiny spray of your release splashing against his wrist. 

He’s lost in the feel of you—slick and trembling under his hands, the scent of your release filling his lungs, thick and intoxicating.

You slump back against the bed, body limp and spent. His own need is a driving, aching force now, clawing at his insides, demanding more.

He slips his fingers free from your dripping heat, dragging them through the wetness coating his chin as he licks them clean with a growl, savoring every taste.

“Good girl,” he purrs, voice thick with pride and satisfaction as he pulls back, leaving your thighs twitching in the wake of his touch. But he still isn’t finished. Not even close.

You barely have time to catch your breath before Logan crawls up the bed, his eyes locked on you, pupils blown with need. He looms over you, hands planting on either side of your head. His cock grinds against you through the rough denim, and you can feel just how thick and hard he is, throbbing through the fabric, demanding to be freed.

With a low groan, he shifts his hips, dragging his bulge along your soaked cunt, sending another jolt of pleasure racing through you. His hands are all over you, gripping your waist, hot and possessive.

“Feel that?” he asks, pressing his lips the wild flutter of your pulse, the need to sink his teeth in the soft skin of your neck raises the hair on the back of his neck. “That’s what you do to me baby. Got me hard as a fuckin’ rock, just aching to be inside you.”

Your arms circle his shoulders, clawing at the fabric off his shirt. “Need you inside me, Logan. Please, want it so bad.”

The pure need lacing your words, your scent calling out to him, the way he can feel the front of his jeans getting soaked through with the slick pouring from your cunt all pull him deeper into the recesses of his hind-brain. 

The mounting desperation to stuff you full of his cock finally reaches a fever pitch.

With a deep growl, Logan rears back as far as he can bear, just enough to tear his shirt over his head before he fumbles with the heavy buckle of his belt to free his aching cock.

He shoves his jeans down, boxers quickly following until there’s nothing separating him from the cool air of your bedroom. His cock springs free, hot and flushed an angry red color, drooling from the tip enough that it drips down to stain the pretty floral sheets of your bed.

Your eyes zero in on him, mouth dropping open at the sight. His cock so heavy it doesn’t curve upward to slap against his stomach, instead it hangs down to sway between his thighs as he moves closer. 

Your legs spread as he nears, slick covered thighs parting to make room for him to slot between them. So obedient, so good, so well trained.

Logan takes himself in his hand, nearly wincing at the blazing temperature of his skin. He secures his hand around the base, squeezing where his knot threatens to pop before he’s even got in you.

He slips the angry head through the folds of your cunt, slapping it against your clit with a wet ‘thwack’ sound. He can feel the way it twitches and shakes, just as desperate as him.

“Look at that,” he mutters darkly, eyes glued to where he’s laid his cock flat against your stomach, leaking pre-come all over your soft skin. “How’s it gonna fit, baby?” He shifts his hips, sawing his length back and forth to see just how deep in you he’ll be.

Your glassy eyes drop, a broken moan passing through your slack lips when you take in the sight. Your hips rise off the bed, grinding your cunt along the seam of his heavy balls, along the prominent vein trailing up the underside.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Logan grits out, eyes hooded and dark as he watches you grind against him. “You’re gonna take it all. Gonna make you feel every last fuckin’ bit of me.”

He groans, gritting his teeth as he presses in further, each inch a battle against the tight, molten heat that grips him like a vice. Your body shudders as he fills you, your slick warmth pulling him deeper and deeper, and he sinks down until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with yours. 

The pressure is mind-numbing, your walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses that make his vision blur. He stills for just a second, savoring the way your body stretches around him, hugging him in a way that feels like it was made for him alone.

Logan watches your face as you adjust to the stretch, your brows pinched together, each breath coming fast and shallow, your eyes glazed with pleasure.

Then, your hands come to his shoulders, nails digging little crescent moons into his skin as you nod your head, ready.

It’s all the confirmation he needs. His hips pull back before he slams in again, the force of it jolting your whole body. He presses his forehead to your shoulder, teeth bared as he muffles a snarl against your skin.

Logan thrusts again, and again, and again, hips setting a merciless pace as he watches the way your breasts bounce with each thrust, each little shudder.

His mouth waters with the need to taste, to sink his teeth into your supple skin hard enough to pierce clean through, hard enough to scar.

Sweat drips down the length of his spine, across his brow. It mats down the hair scattered over his chest, his dog tags slick with it when they bounce off his skin with each thrust. The grip of his hands tightens on your hips, it’s taking everything in him to hold back and yet he knows you’ll still bruise tomorrow. 

Pretty hues of dark purples and yellows in the shape of his fingers, ones he’ll catch you admiring in the bathroom mirror, pressing your own fingertips into them to feel the dull ache—to remember this moment.

“Made for this, aren’t you?” he rasps, his voice dark and possessive. “Made to take me, to be mine.”

The words barely leave his mouth before he’s bending down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries as he drives into you, pushing you both closer to that sweet edge.

“Fuck, Logan,” you gasp, breaking the kiss as your body trembles under him. “Can–ah!–can feel you in my stomach…”

Your hand drops from his shoulder, slipping between your bodies to rest over the sweaty expanse of your belly. Logan’s eyes follow your path, a feral growl bursting from his chest before he can stop it.

He’s transfixed by it, sure that if he pressed his hand to the soft skin of your lower stomach right over your own, that he’d feel it. Feel the way his cock punches up against your insides, so deep it's like he’s rearranging your guts to make room.

“Fuck.” His voice is nothing but a gravelly rumble, hoarse and dark as midnight. His hips speed up impossibly faster, chasing the feeling of your clenching walls choking the length of his cock so tight he thinks it might snap off at the base.

The flimsy headboard of your bed slams against the wall, creaky mattress springs screaming under his ministrations.

You feel like salvation, like the first rays of light after too many years spent in the dark.

He feels it with each kiss of his cock against your cervix, in the way your lips fit in the junction of his neck, in the red welts your nails leave on the skin of his back. He feels alive, truly alive, for the first time in decades.

“Say my name,” he grates, his hand cupping the back of your neck, coaxing you to look up at him, lips close enough to taste the heat radiating from his skin. “Tell me who you belong to.”

"Logan," you gasp, your voice breathy, edged with desperation as he pushes you closer to the brink. "Yours. Only yours."

A broken, shaky noise falls from his lips as he buries his face in your neck. He mouths at your skin desperately, presses his nose to where your scent is the strongest. 

Flashes of his release spraying your insides play behind his closed eyes, thoughts of drenching you so thoroughly that it has to take only forcing his hips to slam against the rippling muscle of your ass like you have your own magnetic pull. He feels it building, the slow swell of his knot presses against your folds, ready to burst.

“Come on, honey,” he begs, thumb coming down to rub slow circles over your slick clit. “Come with me, soak my cock. Show me how much you love it, how much you love me.”

Pathetic little uh uh uh’s fall from you with every thrust, broken up only by the breathy whines of his name as he pounds into you hard enough to push your body higher up the mattress. Finally, with a loud roar, he stuffs his growing knot inside of your cunt. 

Logan’s teeth sink into your neck before he can even think twice about it, the thick spray of his come filling you as his hands pull your hips down even further over his cock. He needs to be as deep in you as possible, to press forward until he can’t anymore, until his aching balls are flush with your gushing cunt.

He watches with rapt attention as you come with a loud wail, just from the feeling of his knot slotting into place. The clamp of your thighs over his hips is nearly as tight as the way your cunt seizes around him like it’s scared he’ll leave.

He groans at the over stimulation of your cunt milking his cock. Your slick leaks around the base of him, your shaking hole plugged so full it can only slip along the creamy ring to splash weakly against his thighs and hips.

Logan licks along the spot where his teeth pierced your skin, planting one last kiss before he’s taking you in his arms and rolling onto his back atop the mattress. The plush comforter sticks to his skin, your own sweaty body slipping against his as he tries his best to not jostle you too much while keeping you stuffed full of his cock.

He holds you to his chest until your breathing evens out, until your body stops trembling on top of his, until you’re nosing along the column of his neck.

“Logan?” Your voice is tiny, hoarse and scratchy. He feels your hand drawing absent minded shapes along the skin of his stomach. A circle, a star, a figure eight, a heart.

“Yeah baby?” he says, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, eyes slipping shut at the content feeling that spreads through him.

“Love you,” you murmur, voice soft but sure, the words slipping out without hesitation.

It’s the first time you’ve said it today, and hearing those three words from you sends warmth flooding through him.

Logan shifts slightly, pulling you even closer, his hand moving to the back of your head, cradling you with a kind of tenderness he used to think he’d never be capable of. “I love you too, darlin’. More than you know.”

Your body relaxes against him, the lingering effects of your shared intimacy still buzzing through your limbs, but now there’s a sense of peace, of safety, and a deeper connection.

He can feel the way your fingers curl lightly against his skin, the quiet smile that must be tugging at your lips as you press a kiss to the side of his neck.

And in that moment, with everything settled around him, Logan knows that this, right here, is everything.

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[willowsnook]

Done Waiting

Lando Norris x bsf!reader

She isn’t you

Hi, could I request a salami sandwich with tomato on wheat bread, please, and thank you. Request from @itsnotsophiasworld

—-------------------------------

MF: SOS, can anyone fly to Spain to check on Lando? From what I’ve gathered, he is staying in an Airbnb by himself and very much in his head. I’m caught up in some work stuff, or else I’d make the trip myself. 

Your heart sank reading Max's text to your friend group. Lando had been having a rough season and was constantly getting ripped apart in the media, no matter what he did. All you could do was make sure that he knew you were there for him and try to be around as much as possible, which was easy as you also lived in Monaco. But after the last race before summer break, none of you had heard from him. 

Looking at flights, you quickly replied to the group saying that you could go. One of the many perks of working remotely was that you could pick up your computer and go anywhere, so leaving to help Lando was a no-brainer. There was a flight leaving tonight, so you purchased that and started to pack. 

You wished the world could see him the way that you did. He was a caring, down-to-earth friend who would do anything for the people he loved. It was hard for anyone who knew him not to like him, and it was hard for you not to be in love with him. 

It hadn’t taken you long after meeting him to fall for his charm, but he had been dating someone else then, so you settled for friendship. That was three years ago, and you’d dated guys since, but the feelings still lingered. He could make you feel like you were the only girl in the world, so it was easy to get sucked in. 

Ultimately, you valued your friendship too much to ever act on it, even when you were both single. You’d been through too much together to risk losing him. You had a hunch that he felt the same way about you because of how overly affectionate he was with you compared to everyone else and that you were usually his first call. Still, his life was busy, and you understood that a girlfriend didn’t fit in that picture right now. 

Landing in Spain around 10, you grabbed your luggage before jumping in a cab to the address Max had sent you. The Airbnb was a cute little beach cottage right on the ocean, and you inhaled a deep breath of salty air and instantly felt better. 

The door to the house swung open, and you were greeted by what seemed to be a very irritated Lando. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Making sure you don’t do something crazy,” you replied, mirroring him with his arms. 

“I want to be alone.”

“I don’t care.” 

You stared at each other for a while, neither one giving in before he finally sighed and moved past you to grab your suitcase, grumbling to himself. The cottage had windows on the backside, allowing a constant view of the ocean, which you could appreciate. Lando put my luggage in the guest room before joining me as you looked at the water. 

“You didn’t have to come; I’m fine,” he muttered. You looked over at him with a sad smile, reaching your hand down to grab his. 

“I wanted to come.” He gave you a small smile, and you took in his exhausted state, noting just how bad it really was. 

“Why don’t we get some rest? Then you’ll be ready for a full day tomorrow,” you suggested, and he looked over at you. 

“I’m here to relax, y/n,” he said, and you smiled mischievously. 

“It will be relaxing, I promise.”

It was not relaxing. 

You dragged Lando out of bed at 7 a.m. to go on a run, and he was not happy with you, but you were just happy he came along. Jogging through the little town, you could tell that his mood was improving as he kept pace with you. 

Out of breath, you were hunched over as you two had climbed to the top of a dune. 

“Are you not relaxed?” Lando teased, and you gave him the finger. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” 

“Yeah, I need to log on when we get back to the place,” you wheezed, and he handed you his water bottle. “What are your plans for while I work?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, scroll through social media hate, maybe watch all my old races and critique everything I did; the possibilities are endless.” 

Shooting him a look, you sighed, “That would be funny if I didn’t know you’d already been doing that.” 

He looked down at his feet, and you moved over to him, wrapping your arms around his torso. His head found your shoulder, he breathed deeply, and you held on tighter. 

“You’re going to be okay Lan,” you said, looking up at him. 

“I know,” he said sadly. 

Lando spent the rest of the day in the water while you worked, slipping away to get groceries for the night. He hadn’t had time to hide all the takeout bags and boxes he had been surviving on, so you figured a homecooked meal would do him well. 

Having dealt with him being a picky eater for a while, you were finishing up your favorite spaghetti and meatballs recipe when he came back into the house. 

“Smells great,” he commented and you smiled. “Can we eat outside?”

“You read my mind,” you replied, plating the food. 

Eating on the back deck, you felt a sense of serenity as the sound of waves crashing filled your ears. 

“This place is amazing; how did you find it?” You asked, turning to Lando. 

“Honestly, I just opened the app and picked the first place I saw that looked secluded,” he admitted. “I just wanted to be away from everyone.” 

“We are here for you to lean on Lan,” you said softly. “I’m never going to leave you.” 

“I know that, but I just don’t want to disappoint you,” he confessed, and your heart sank. 

“Lando Norris,” you said, forcing him to look at you. “There is nothing you could ever do to disappoint me. I am so insanely proud of everything you’ve accomplished. Please come back to Monaco with me tomorrow.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” He whispered, holding out his arms. You climbed into his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and running your fingers through his hair. 

“You buy me so much shit so I have to be nice to you,” you joked and he giggled. He pulled his head back to look at you, and your breath hitched because of the lack of distance between the two of you. Shifting, you tried to move back but his grip on you tightened so you leaned down to bring your lips to his. As you were a millimeter away his phone started to ring and you rested your head briefly against his, groaning internally. 

Sliding off of him you handed him his phone as it was Max calling. Hearing him tell Max he was coming home the next day made you smile, and you gathered all the dishes to clean up. He joined you a little later, and neither of you brought up the almost kiss; you wrote it off as something that happened in the heat of the moment. 

—------------------------------

Zandvoort was a dream, and you were so glad you made the trip with your friends. The next race you were going to was Singapore and Lando had invited you, Max, and some others to hang out the week before in Portugal. 

Your friend group had rented a big house, and you were ready to soak in the sun and relax after taking the week off work. Pietra and you had flown in together and met up with everyone that night at dinner. 

“Hi, I’m Mary,” a girl you didn’t recognize said to you, holding out her hand. You smiled back warmly, introducing yourself. 

“Mary and I met at a shoot early this year,” Pietra explained, and you nodded. You chatted with her for a while over dinner, glad to have another girl on the trip. 

You were less happy the next day when you watched this girl throw herself at Lando every chance she got. Right now, you were watching as she asked Lando how to show her how to hit the ball off the tee at the golf course where you guys were. 

“Ya know I went golfing with her two weeks ago, and she had a perfect swing,” Pietra muttered and you grimaced, watching Lando wrap his arms around the girl to guide her swing. It seemed like she would find a way to touch him no matter where you went. Up against him at dinner, clinging to him in the pool, leaning on him while you were watching a movie. 

At this point your jealousy was flaring up and you were trying to keep your composure, especially because this girl had been nothing but nice to you. What made it worse was that Lando entertained it, accepting her advances right in front of you. Your mind replayed that almost kiss back in Spain and the way the two of you had gotten closer since that trip. It had seemed to you that something was changing in your relationship, but clearly not. The whole trip you felt like your heart was being ripped apart and you were starting to wonder if you needed to take a break from being around him until you could get over your crush. 

Two nights before you were supposed to leave the group ended up at a club downtown as a pre-celebration for what you predicted would be a Lando win in Singapore. Rounds and rounds of shots were taken and you were dancing with Pietra on the dance floor trying to have a good time. 

You briefly glanced back at the VIP section, and your stomach dropped. Mary was sitting on Lando’s lap, and you watched as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Water instantly filled your eyes, and Pietra looked concerned before following your gaze. She looked at you with such sadness that you decided then and there that you were done. 

Leaving the club you walked back to the Airbnb alone. You weren’t sure if it was your drunkenness or just the emotional exhaustion of the situation but you started to get angry. Time after time, you were there for him and this is what you got back. It would be different if he had made it clear from the start that he wasn’t interested but he didn’t do that. He slept in your bed back in Monaco on nights like these, he spoiled you constantly with gifts, and you knew that he had told other drivers on the grid to back off from you, laying a claim. 

God, you were so fucking over it. 

You gathered all your stuff and threw it in your suitcase, calling for a cab to take you to the airport. You made it down the stairs just as Max was coming in. His face fell as he saw your bag. 

"No y/n don’t go,” he pleaded, and you shook your head, already feeling tears start to fill your eyes. 

“I can’t fucking do this anymore Max,” you said, voice cracking. “I have to protect my heart.” 

“You know he loves you,” he said moving towards you to hold you. “Everyone knows that.” 

“If that’s true, why have I watched him with her this whole weekend? Why did I just watch him sit there when she stuck her tongue down his throat right in front of me,” you yelled and Max stayed silent. “Exactly. I need some space to figure out how things can move forward between us.” 

Max helped you carry your bag outside and the two of you stood silently waiting for the car. Just as it pulled up, Lando walked up to the house, alone. 

“Y/N!” He called out, not seeing your suitcase yet. “Where’d you run off too? I was looking for you.” 

You turned around and his eyes widened seeing your tear stained face, his gaze flickering down to your bag. 

“What’s going on?” He asked hoarsely and you just shook your head turning back to get into the car before you started to sob. 

“Let her go mate,” you heard Max tell him and you looked out the window to see him holding Lando back. The sight made you cry harder as the car finally drove off. 

Lando’s POV

Watching the car disappear down the street, Lando turned to Max, panic and confusion colliding in his mind.

“Why is she leaving, Max? What the hell happened?”

Max let out a sigh, his eyes searching Lando’s face with a mix of frustration and pity. “Mate, she’s in love with you. And honestly, you’re in love with her too, even if you haven’t figured it out yet.”

Lando froze, the weight of Max’s words hitting him harder than he expected. He thought of all the moments he spent with you—the late-night talks, the shared laughter, the comforting silence. He thought about how he’d let Mary get close, but each time she reached for him, a nagging feeling crept up inside him.

She isn’t you.

The thought was so painfully clear now. It didn’t matter how kind or fun Mary was—she wasn’t you. And suddenly, he realized why none of it felt right.

“I need to go,” Lando said suddenly. “I need to go to the airport.” 

He took off down to the main street hailing a cab but when he finally got there, you were gone. 

—--------------------------------------------

You skipped the Singapore GP. You didn’t even watch it on tv so you didn’t know why everyone was wondering why despite winning, Lando looked miserable standing on the podium. 

He had texted you a million times begging you to call him but you declined the call everytime. You were trying to move on. You’d started running again in the mornings, working out of coffee shops,  and hanging out with your girlfriends. Basically you were doing everything in your power to not think of him; and it worked until 10pm each night. Then you were miserable. 

It was two weeks after Singapore when you heard knocking at your door one evening. You weren’t expecting anyone so you were especially surprised to see Oscar standing on the other side of your door. Considering he didn’t live in Monaco, you didn’t really know what to say, just stared at him silently. 

“May I come in?” He asked politely and you nodded, stepping aside to let him through. “Nice apartment.”

“Thanks,” you replied following him into the living room. “What are you doing here?”

He settled down on your couch, motioning for you to join him and you sunk down on the other side. 

“I need you to tell me what happened when you and Lando were in Portugal,” he said slowly and you immediately looked away. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you mumbled, playing with your hands. 

“It does matter,” Oscar insisted. “It’s okay if you finally rejected him but I need to know how to fix him.”

Your head snapped up, “I didn’t reject him Oscar. He basically rejected me.” 

“There’s no way,” Oscar said, shocked and you told him everything that had happened from you flying to Spain for him to him making out with that girl at the club. 

“Trust me when I say that I’m not trying to invalidate your feelings, but I feel like this is a big misunderstanding,” Oscar said and you rolled your eyes. “He is so in love with you y/n. All he does is talk about you.”

“Then why did he never tell me!” You said, voice rising. “I’ve been there the whole time Oscar, and he has never said anything. I want to be with someone who isn’t afraid to love me.” 

Oscar’s heart broke at your words, knowing you were feeling this way. 

“I came here y/n, because he is a mess without you,” he said. “I’ve never seen him like this and it’s starting to affect his racing so I’m begging you to at least think about talking to him.” 

—-------------------------------------

You would have thought that Lando would stop texting after a while but he didn’t. Every morning he texted you “good morning” and gave you updates on his day even though you weren’t responding. His plan seemed to be to slowly chip away at you until you were ready to come back and unfortunately it was working. 

Brazil was the next race that your friend group was attending and you went back and forth on what you should do before finally deciding to book a flight. Max must have told Lando because you immediately were notified that your flight had been upgraded and your hotel had been booked. 

Because of a work event, you weren’t going to be able to get there until Saturday night and probably wouldn’t see Lando until qualifying or after the race. You joined Max and Pietra on the track, bright and early on Sunday morning and you were wondering how Lando would survive with it being this early in the morning. 

Oscar gave you a big hug when he saw you and you could tell he was incredibly relieved that you were there. Qualifying was 20 minutes away and you heading towards the Paddock club when you turned a corner and were immediately wrapped up in two arms. Inhaling his familiar scent, you relaxed into his touch. 

“I missed you so fucking much,” he said into your ear and you hummed in reply. You were still unsure about pretending like nothing ever happened. He pulled back to look at you and his excitement was contagious, pulling a small smile out of you. 

“We’ll talk later okay?” He asked and you nodded. “I have a lot of things I need to say to you.”

He kissed your forehead before running off and you tried to keep your cool. Qualifying was good for him and you were feeling good about the race but a little nervous about the weather conditions. 

Sitting with Max and Pietra in the paddock club the mood was very much anxious. Lando had been doing great until a red flag reset everything. He had fallen down because of pitting and you watched as he went off the track on that first turn, your heart sinking. The rest of the race was a blur and he finished in P6 which you knew would not go over well with him. 

After the race, you felt hesitant heading back to the McLaren hospitality area. You weren’t sure if he’d want to see you, especially in his disappointment. But as you lingered by the entrance, you caught sight of him. Lando was drenched, exhausted, and his usual radiant energy seemed dimmed. Still, he locked eyes with you, a faint smile managing to pull at the corner of his lips.

He walked over slowly, stopping right in front of you. “You waited for me?”

“Of course I did, Lando,” you replied softly, feeling the gravity of the moment settle in. “I always do.”

He nodded, then glanced around at the crowded area. “Can we go somewhere… quieter?”

You followed him through the paddock until you found yourselves outside in a secluded spot overlooking the track. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Finally, Lando took a deep breath.

“I was an idiot,” he began, voice raw with honesty. “You don’t know how many times I replayed that trip to Portugal, thinking about what I could’ve done differently. I didn’t understand how much it would hurt you… I was blind to everything but my own mess.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he kept going, unable to hold back.

“You’ve been the best part of my life for years, and it took almost losing you to realize how much I’d taken you for granted. I’m sorry, y/n. I thought I was protecting you by not… admitting how I feel. I thought if I never said it out loud, maybe it’d hurt less. But I can’t pretend anymore. I love you.”

Hearing those words, the walls you’d built around yourself began to crack, the anger and disappointment from before softening as you looked into his eyes.

“I’ve loved you for so long,” you whispered and he gave you a soft smile. 

“I know, I’m sorry I didn’t see it before.” 

When he kissed you, it was tender and full of all the unspoken words and missed opportunities between you. As you pulled away, you both smiled, feeling the weight of the past couple of weeks finally lift.

[bookwormjust]

Shadows in the Sun (established relationship with Azriel, sunny day with the IC, Overprotective mate, teasing by Cass and Rhys)

It was the perfect summer day by the Sidra, the sky a brilliant blue with not a single cloud in sight. The Inner Circle had decided to spend the afternoon by the river, taking advantage of the warm weather. Feyre and Mor were lounging nearby, laughing and talking, while Cassian and Rhys splashed around in the water like a pair of overgrown children, their wings sending up waves as they wrestled with each other.

You were stretched out on a soft towel, basking in the warmth of the sun as the river's gentle breeze rustled through the trees. The heat on your skin was soothing, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you could fully relax. The sounds of your friends' laughter mixed with the rush of the water, creating a perfect atmosphere of peace.

But you knew peace wouldn’t last for long with Azriel around.

You sensed him before you saw him—the familiar whisper of shadows lingering in the air, brushing against your skin as if trying to warn you. A soft chuckle left your lips, knowing exactly what was about to happen.

Moments later, you felt a cool shadow fall over you, blocking the warmth of the sun. You opened your eyes, squinting slightly as Azriel stood over you, his wings stretched wide, casting a protective barrier between you and the sun’s rays.

"Azriel," you groaned with a laugh, playfully swatting at him, "I’m trying to tan."

He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking in that way that made your heart flutter. "You’ve been in the sun long enough," he said, his voice calm but laced with that overprotective edge you knew so well. "You’ll burn."

Before you could protest, he knelt down beside you, the dampness from his swim causing droplets of water to fall onto your skin. His wings curled slightly around you, shielding you from the bright light. You could see his brothers behind him, still in the water, casting knowing glances your way.

Cassian yelled from the river, voice dripping with teasing, "Az, let her get some sun! Stop being a mother hen!"

Azriel ignored him, his attention completely on you as he reached for the bottle of sunscreen you’d left beside your towel. His gaze softened as he met your eyes, and without asking, he popped the cap open and poured some into his hands.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help but smile.

Azriel’s lips twitched in amusement. “I’m taking care of you,” he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

He started with your shoulders, his touch firm but gentle as he massaged the sunscreen into your skin. The feeling of his hands on you, combined with the coolness of the lotion, sent a shiver down your spine despite the heat of the day. His fingers trailed over your arms, making sure not to miss a single spot, his eyes focused intently on his task.

“You’re overprotective, you know that?” you teased softly, your voice laced with affection.

Azriel’s wings shifted slightly, creating a cocoon of shade around you. His gaze flickered to your face, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I didn’t say that,” you said with a soft laugh, tilting your head back as he moved to rub sunscreen along your legs. “But you do know I’m capable of putting sunscreen on myself, right?”

Azriel’s smile widened, though his eyes were serious as they flicked up to meet yours. “I know. But I like taking care of you.” His fingers lingered a little longer than necessary, his touch filled with tenderness as he continued his task.

You couldn't help but melt under his care, your heart swelling at the softness in his voice. Even as a formidable warrior and shadowsinger, Azriel was always gentle with you, always showing his love in these small, protective ways.

Rhys called out from the water, clearly amused by the scene playing out in front of him. “Azriel, I think she’s good! You missed a spot on her elbow, though.”

You rolled your eyes, and Azriel shot his High Lord a half-hearted glare before returning his focus to you. Once he was satisfied with his work, he leaned back on his heels, his wings folding slightly but still providing you with shade. “You can tan later,” he said, his voice quieter now, softer. “I just don’t want you to burn.”

You reached out, resting your hand on his forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” you whispered, letting him know how much you appreciated his protectiveness, even if you didn’t always admit it out loud.

Azriel’s expression softened, his thumb brushing lightly over your hand before he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Anything for you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

As he stood, you could see that familiar glint of mischief return to his eyes. “Now, stay here where it’s safe,” he teased, his wings flaring slightly as he turned back toward the river. “I’m going to deal with my brothers.”

With a wink, he stalked back toward the water, his shadows trailing behind him as he approached Cassian and Rhys, who were still laughing at his overprotectiveness. But from the look on Azriel’s face, you knew they’d be on the receiving end of his payback soon enough.

And as you lay back down, smiling to yourself, you knew that no matter how overprotective your mate could be, you wouldn’t trade him—or his giant, shade-casting wings—for anything in the world.

[domjaehyun]

there's a stranger in my house (l.jn)

PAIRING. lee jeno x fem!reader 

GENRE. thriller, smut

CONTENTS. major character death, seriously dubious consent that turns noncon (please believe me when i say this), spitting, unprotected sex, fear play, oral (fem receiving), anal play, degradation, praise, biting, marking, ass smacking, mirror sex, non-consensual filming, choking, hair pulling (receiving), manhandling/strength kink, some role play 

WORD COUNT. 3.8k

SUMMARY. something’s not quite right about jeno, and you’re not sure what it is.

PLAYLIST. stranger in my house - tamia

NOTES.  hiii well. i can’t explain myself. important context is the movie “us” by jordan peele but if you haven’t seen it, i try to explain without explaining. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. happy birthday to my dear dear dear friend @renjunfocus!! i hope you all like it and don’t come tell me if you didn’t 💖 but if you enjoyed it, by all means let me know! 

“Jeno, please be safe tonight.” you say worriedly as he adjusts his costume in the mirror. “Halloween is scary; people are always doing something fucked up.”

“I’ll be as safe as possible, baby.” Jeno assures you, turning to face you with that crescent-eyed smile you love. “Plus, I’m literally dressed as a cop; they might think it’s real.” 

“True,” you hum, nibbling your bottom lip worriedly as you take in his appearance. “You look really… really good, Jeno.”

“Oh, yeah? Can I get a kiss for looking this good?” he asks hopefully, and you smile, leaning in to kiss him sweetly on the lips, Jeno chasing after you as you pull back.

“There’s more where that came from when you get back home.” you promise, and he gives you a cute frown before straightening back up and smoothing out his costume one last time.

He pulls you into a hug as he always does before he leaves and when he comes back, and you breathe in deeply, his comforting scent of peppermint body wash, a soft musk, and baby powder enveloping you.

He presses a kiss to the side of your head and slowly retracts from you, a hint of reluctance in his movements.

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours,” he bids you goodbye, blowing you a kiss before exiting your bedroom and, you deduce when the front door shuts, your apartment.

You decide to get cozy in bed and wait for him to come home while you read a book you’ve been neglecting recently, but it’s only about thirty pages in before your eyelids start to droop and you find yourself curling up under your covers and drifting off to sleep.

When you wake up, it’s with a start, sitting straight up in bed when you hear the front door shut roughly. You wait for Jeno to make his way into your room, surprise and confusion filling you when he appears and—

“You changed your costume.” you point out, and he looks down at it as if he’s forgotten.

“Some girl spilled her drink on me at the party, so Jaemin loaned me his spare costume.” Jeno answers with a shrug, and you nod.

“It’s hot,” you admit with a grin. 

He chuckles as he draws closer to you. “Oh, yeah?”

You nod encouragingly. “The robber thing is kind of a 180 from the police officer, but it’s really hot… kinda makes me a little flustered.”

“Oh, really?” he teases, and you nod again, slower this time. 

“The ski mask is a good touch; kinda scary, too.” you compliment, and his gaze darkens as he looks down at you.

“Are you scared, then, baby?” he questions, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Hm? The big, scary robber’s making you nervous?”

“Oh, yes, mister robber, sir, please! You can take all my money, just please don’t hurt me!” you plead, clasping your hands together and blinking up at him through your lashes.

“It’s not money I want, sweet girl,” Jeno growls through his ski mask, his voice muffled but still so convincing and deeply unsettling that you feel apprehension creeping up on the back of your neck. “Sit on the windowsill,” he grunts, jerking his chin towards the bay window beside your bed, and you climb to your feet, obediently moving to sit at the edge of the windowsill. The seat is cold on the backs of your thighs, making you wince slightly, and you find yourself drawing back in fear as Jeno stalks towards you and stands before you, practically looming menacingly over you.

He slams his hands down on either side of you loudly and suddenly, making you yelp in panic. “Relax,” he purrs, lowering himself so he’s eye level with you. “So pretty,” he rasps, tilting his head to the side as he watches you, but the compliment fails to warm your cheeks the way it usually does, because this time, it sounds… foreign and unfamiliar to you. It’s a type of observation Jeno’s never demonstrated before, your loving boyfriend usually eyeing you with adoration, love, or fondness in his eyes. Tonight, it’s different. It’s almost… sadistic in its fascination, as if the flashes of fear behind your eyes are fueling him somewhat.

You’re so focused on decoding the entirely unsettling look Jeno’s giving you that you don’t notice one of his hands sneaking up behind your back until his fingers are looping in the locks at the base of your neck and tugging your head back roughly. His eyes darken at the flash of panic and pain across your face before he’s ripping the ski mask off and practically smashing his mouth against yours, kissing you more ferociously than he ever has before. He’s all sharp teeth and forceful tongue, the wet, thick muscle bullying its way into your mouth as you whimper for mercy. His tongue swirls around the inside of your mouth possessively, coating every last bit of it with his saliva like he’s marking his territory.

He pulls back slightly before spitting directly into your mouth just as you go to gasp for air. You promptly choke on his saliva, coughing and spluttering pathetically as tears spring to your eyes. You’ve barely recovered before Jeno stuffs two fingers into your mouth, parting them in a V so your lips are stretched horizontally, and he wags his tongue lewdly in the open space of your parted lips, licking against your tongue with long strokes punctuated by guttural grunts of delight. 

He spits once more, a long drop of saliva landing on your tongue, and you whimper in protest, shaking your head in refusal.

He cups your chin in his hand with a firm, almost too tight grip, staring you down challengingly. “Swallow it. Take my spit in your mouth like the good little slut you are.” 

You blink back tears of confusion and hurt as you do just that, swallowing his spit, and he smiles, pleased as he pats your cheek roughly.

“Good.” he grunts, releasing you and knocking your legs apart with two quick slaps to your inner thighs. He drops to his knees between your thighs and yanks the straps of your satin nightie off your shoulders, tugging the fabric down to reveal your bare breasts. He pinches at one nipple, twisting until you squirm away from his touch. He latches onto your neck, biting roughly and sucking harshly and working his way downward until marks are blooming all over your sensitive, buzzing skin.

When he gets to your breast, he looks up at you, studying your reaction when he sucks as much of your breast into his mouth as he can fit. You hiss in surprise and move to push him back slightly, finding yourself overwhelmed by the intense sensations, but he snatches your hands out of the way, linking them together in his larger one before trapping your hands between your legs. He sucks on your nipples roughly, rapidly flicking his tongue over the buds and even nipping at them every once in a while, and you can’t tell if you want to moan or cry.

After what feels like ages of inner turmoil, he releases your breasts from his greedy clutches, your nipple slipping from his lips with a loud, wet, pop sound. He leaves a trail of bite marks down from the underside of your breast to your stomach, where he sinks his teeth into your flesh so roughly that you fear he’s aiming to draw blood. He pulls back when there’s a clear indentation of his teeth on you, marks that are sure to bruise, and spreads your legs as wide as they’ll go. 

“Been dying to taste this pussy,” he grunts under his breath, and you swallow thickly, watching him warily as he drags his tongue up your folds forcefully. Spreading your folds apart with two fingers, he prods the thick tip of his tongue against your entrance. You gasp in surprise when he slithers his tongue into you, the muscle fat and long as he moves it around along your inner walls. “Delicious,” he groans, dragging his tongue over your hole and relishing the way your hips jolt.

When two thick fingers push into you without warning, a weak moan falls from your lips at the surprise of the stretch. Jeno grins cockily, and it hits you what’s different: there’s a hollowness to his every emotion, like there’s a lack of… humanity to it.

Something about him is off; he's not acting like the man that loves you. He's touching you with the desperation of a man that's never had you before. He even smells different; like smoke, ash even, and something metallic and dark. What clues you in the most that this is not your boyfriend is that his signature scent, his personal blend of musk, is nowhere to be found. This man smells tangy, sharp, and strong, a heady blend but most importantly enough, not your boyfriend's blend.

This man is not Jeno.

“Um,” you pipe up tentatively, and he takes a minor break from licking at your core to look up at you with a raised eyebrow. “Who are you?”

With your question, the energy in the room shifts completely; a smile nothing short of sinister appears on his lips, and there’s a wicked glint in his eye that has you clutching at the windowsill.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks, and there’s an attempt at tenderness, but it all feels so deceptive, like he’s pantomiming an emotion he’s never experienced. “You don’t recognize me?”

“No,” you say breathlessly. “You’re not Jeno.”

“Smart girl,” he replies before lowering his head to return to eating you out. When you start to close your legs from fear and panic, he growls threateningly, the sound guttural and unnatural, and moves faster than you could’ve thought possible. He pushes the bay window open behind you, the bottom of the window swinging out, and forces you back and down until your torso dangles precariously from your tenth floor apartment unit.

“If you make any wrong moves, I will drop you.” he threatens, and you whimper in terror, the wind chilling your cheeks and rushing through your hair as you dangle, contorted partially upside down, at the mercy of this man who looks just like your boyfriend yet behaves like anything but. “Unless you’ve always wanted to paint the concrete with brain matter, I’d stay still.”

You nod vigorously in understanding, letting your trembling thighs fall apart once more, and he hums appreciatively.

“Like I said,” he remarks as he attaches his lips to your clit, “smart girl.” He sucks roughly at your sensitive bud with lewd moans and wet smacking noises and if he can hear your sniffles and whimpers of fear, he doesn’t comment.

The hand not keeping you in your life-threatening position strokes against your folds, parting them and pushing two fingers back into you, starting to pump them in and out.

“I’ve been waiting for this for too long.” he mumbles against your folds before proceeding to sloppily make out with your core, tongue slurping and licking at every drop of arousal that drips out of your poor hole. “Waited in the shadows, listening to that bastard fuck you every night—”

“Every night?” you gasp, and he chuckles darkly.

“I’ve been watching you both for some time now.” he informs you, fingers moving in and out of you while he speaks as if it’s the most casual conversation in the world. “He was a real fucking soft guy, huh?” 

“Was?!” you squeak in alarm, and he laughs loudly, fingers speeding up cruelly and hooking into your g-spot, making it abundantly clear to you that you’re about to cum, whether you like it or not.

“Oh, he’s not coming back, baby,” he says with an audible grin, malice laced in the pet name he so evilly threw back in your face. “Unless anyone at that Halloween party can perform open heart surgery.”

“Oh, my God,” you whimper, and you’re not sure if it’s from abject horror or your rapidly approaching climax. The unmistakable sounds of his fingers squelching in your arousal fills the inside of the room, loud enough for you to hear it from your precarious pose halfway outside. “Please, you have to stop, I don’t want to cum—”

“Do you think I give a fuck what you want?” he spits back at you, and you flinch at the venom in his voice. “All my life, we’ve been forced to mimic you all up here like puppets while you get to do whatever the fuck you want. Now it’s time to do what I want, and I? I want you to cum all over my fingers and my tongue.”

“Please—” you whisper, and he shushes you, the sound adjacent to something close to loving, but lacking any real sympathy; he must have heard Jeno soothing you at some point and mimicked the sound to the best of his abilities. 

“Cum, baby,” he urges, fingers pistoning in and out of you rapidly before he curls and fucks them directly into your g-spot and brings you to a powerful climax that you wish you could explain away to your guilty conscience. His lips wrapped around your clit, he sucks hard and flicks his tongue over the sensitive bud as you ride out your high against his face. 

When you’ve recovered somewhat, he looks up at you with a wicked grin, lips still glistening with your arousal. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he taunts with a sly grin, and you just sniffle forlornly in response. “Get up, baby—wanna feel that pussy around my cock next.” He pulls you up unceremoniously, shutting the window behind you and guiding you to the bed. He plops you down on the mattress and hovers over you, encroaching on your space bit by bit until you’re lying with your back on the bed and your legs are reluctantly spread to welcome him in. “You scared?”

“Yes,” you whimper, and he pouts at you, not a hint of sympathy in his expression. 

“Good.” he chuckles darkly before lining his thick tip—thicker than Jeno’s—up with your entrance and pushing into you with one fluid motion. You grab roughly at the sheets at the intrusion, gasping out loudly, and he seals his mouth over yours to silence your cry of surprise, tongue pushing into your mouth and licking into it filthily. “Relax, you’re never gonna take it well if you don’t relax.”

How the hell am I meant to relax when you killed my boyfriend and are in my home about to do Lord knows what to me? You think, but you refrain from mouthing off just yet.

He pushes down on your lower abdomen, groaning in delight as he feels the bulge of his length dragging along your inner walls, and you let out a choked-off squeak as he stretches you to your limits and fills you impossibly deep. 

“That’s it, pretty little thing, feel me nice and deep right here,” he growls, starting to move his hips faster to fuck into you at a gradually building pace. His hand slides up your stomach to twist your nipple before continuing up to cup your chin and turn your face towards the mirror by the door. You shake your head vigorously, not wanting to see yourself like this, but he holds fast, practically smushing your cheek into the comforter. “I want you to watch as I ruin you.” he urges, and you whimper in protest. 

Your face looks nothing short of fucked out, and he’s just gotten started; your eyes glassy with unshed tears, a few tear streaks sliding down your cheeks, and your jaw feels permanently dropped open as he fucks into you at a brutal pace. His sinewy arms hold you in place as he bullies his cock into your tight hole and his abdomen tenses with every thrust, tight muscle tensing and flexing in a regrettably attractive way.

He reaches in his pocket and takes out his phone, holding it up and aiming it at you. “Smile, baby; you’re on camera.” You reach to cover your face and chest immediately, crying out in protest when he snatches your hands away. “Don’t tell me you’re camera-shy,” he taunts cruelly. “That loser never filmed you two fucking?” 

“No,” you say pleadingly, and he tuts in disapproval.

“Sight as pretty as this can’t go to waste.” he decides, moving the phone closer to your face. Fresh tears spill forth, and he licks his lips slowly, watching one tear in particular drip down your cheek before leaning down and licking a fat, wet stripe up your cheek where the tear track was. “God, and now you’re crying—it’s like you’re trying to make me cum.”

“No, I’m not, please, I’m not—” you beg, and he shushes you impatiently, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Yes, baby, you’re gonna make me cum nice and deep in this tight little pussy—gonna fuck you full of my cum—” he grunts, and you squirm under his hold desperately, fighting to get free. “That’s it, struggle a little bit for me—so fucking hot,” he mutters before bringing his forearm to your throat to press down harshly, constricting your airway. “Not too much, now—don’t want you getting away from me.”

“Please—” you croak out, struggling to breathe. “Can’t—breathe—”

His smile only widens and two things dawn on you: one, he could very well kill you right now, and two, there’s no way in hell you’re going down without a fight.

You reach up and claw at his forearm, scratching as hard and as deep as you can, and to your alarm, he grins widely, even among the wince in his expression.

“Love that little fighter in you.” he growls, pressing down harder, so hard you fear it might bruise. “Can’t wait to break it.”

Your vision starts to cloud, black spots forming in your line of sight, and you can feel your consciousness slipping away from you even as you try desperately to remain awake and free yourself. It all proves to be in vain as you slip away from this world, barely able to hear his faint murmur of “That’s it,” before you pass out completely.

When you come to, your throat is sore and you can’t move your body. Your vision spins as you take in the sight of your bedroom, eyes squinting reflexively as the glare of the television hits your retinas.

You turn your head this way and that only to see, to your horror, that your hands and feet are tied to each bedpost with thick, coarse rope. No matter how hard you tug, there seems to be no breaking free, and panic creeps up your still hoarse throat, hot and thick and dully aching. 

The television catches your attention once more, your mind focusing on it in an attempt to calm yourself down, and you watch whatever’s on, your brain catching up quickly.

“...in what reporters everywhere are calling the ‘Doppelgäng​er Takeover,’ recent news has shown that people are being viciously attacked and some even killed by someone that looks exactly like them. If you see someone behaving not quite right, stay back and do not approach; they are known to be violent and highly dangerous.”

Your breathing hitches and starts to shallow rapidly as you start to hyperventilate, tugging harder and harder on your restraints. 

“They won’t budge,” Jeno’s voice calls out, and you flinch, whipping your head around to find the source of the sound. Jeno emerges from the hallway, now clad in a short sleeved black tank top and dark gray sweats. “You can thank Jeno’s mom for that; she signed him—and therefore me—up for Boy Scout training when we were eight.” He steps further into the room, dark piercing eyes scanning your frame trembling with fear. “Her precious Jeno never quite got the hang of the knots, but me? I mastered them.”

A terrified whimper slips from you before you can stop it, and his lips quirk up into a wickedly delighted smile.

“What should I, um…” you swallow thickly before continuing, “call you?”

“Jeno.” he replies easily, and his keen eyes catch the almost imperceptible grimace that takes to your lips at his answer. 

“What are you going to do with me?” you ask worriedly, and he raises an eyebrow.

“I’m going to keep you.” he states plainly, and your body stills entirely, fear igniting in your bloodstream and leaving you close to paralyzed. 

“What about my doppelgänger?” you question, not knowing what answer could possibly make you feel better at this point.

“I got rid of her.” His answer is simple again, and you suck in a breath of surprise. “She’s not as fun as you.”

“Fun?” you croak, and he nods, a gleeful smile on his lips as he nears the bed slowly.

“Doppelgängers are essentially a ‘crude’ copy of the ‘original’ person,” Jeno explains, making one-handed air quotes around the words he spits with disdain, “and only the ‘original’ person has a soul.” 

“So… so that means—”

“I don’t have a soul.” Jeno confirms with a hollow laugh made all the more terrifying now that you know he’s literally hollow spiritually, devoid of humanity. “None of my people do.”

“And you want my soul?” you ask fearfully, and he snorts in amusement, shaking his head.

“You really are cute, you know that?” he chuckles. “I’m not going to take it from you,” he says, waiting until your body slackens with relief to add, “I’m going to break it.”

“What does that mean?” you whimper, fresh tears spilling from your eyes. “Jeno, what do you mean?”

“I want you to understand that this is your reality now. I don’t want there to be any fight left in you at all. But you people are like that… hopeful,” he spits the word with disgust. “Your spirits are like a fire that won’t go out. Every once in a while, there’s a little,” he pauses to scan your face, eyes brightening with excitement when he catches sight of your eyes, no doubt reading the fear, fury, and desperation you have to save yourself— “ember… that sparks up, and I’m going to be here to snuff yours out every… single… time.” He’s close enough to bring his mouth to your ear, lips grazing the lobe and making you shudder with revulsion. “You’re not going anywhere unless I say so.”

You don’t say anything, setting your jaw firmly and staring straight ahead to ignore him. Maybe he’ll get angry enough and kill you, putting you out of your misery.

“There’s that little fighter,” he remarks with fascination. “I saw a hint of it earlier when I was choking you; that fight to survive, to live—you fucked my arm up pretty badly, I was impressed.” he remarks, extending his arm to show you the deep, angry, red cuts clawed into his forearm he’d wrapped around your throat just hours ago. His other arm emerges from behind his back, and your eyes widen when you see a Hitachi wand in his hand, his thumb already resting on the “on” button. “I am going to have so much fun breaking you.” he rasps with unrestrained excitement as he turns the vibrator up to the highest setting.

well.........congrats for making it to the end!! *insert obligatory "i definitely don't think jeno's like this" part that technically doesn't need to be there considering that wasn't jeno* i hope you liked it and if you didn't.... well sorry ig tune in next time for a lovey dovey fic 💖

[ultravioletbrit]

“celebrate” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 432 words

“James?” Regulus asks nervously.

“Yes, love?”

“Do you… would you… I wanted…” Regulus fumbles over his words.

“Reg?” James puts his hand on Regulus’ bouncing knee and Regulus takes a deep breath.

“I didn’t know if maybe… if you wanted to do something… special on Friday?” Regulus forces the question out, trying not to sound as stupid as he feels.

“Oh…err… sure, if you want.” James looks a little confused. “Any particular reason you want to do something Friday?” James asks, and now Regulus feels really stupid.

This is Regulus’ longest relationship. He’s never made it to six months, and he didn’t know what to expect. Maybe six months isn’t as important as he thought. But it feels important to Regulus, and he just wanted to do a nice dinner or something. But now he feels stupid for even bringing it up.

“Err… no… erm…” Regulus shakes his head and stands up from the couch. “Never mind.” He mumbles and starts to walk away.

James catches his wrist and pulls him back down beside him.

“Hey, no. I just didn’t know if there was a reason you wanted to do something Friday?” James asks again.

“No. It’s stupid. Never mind.” Regulus tries to stand up again but of course, James doesn’t let him get far, pulling him even closer this time.

“We can definitely do something Friday.” James tells him, rubbing circles on the back of Regulus’ hands. “For our anniversary, right?” James asks.

Regulus shrugs pathetically, looking down at his lap. James lifts a hand to Regulus’ chin and tilts his head up.

“I was only curious if there was a reason you wanted to celebrate on Friday, that’s all.” James says sweetly.

“Erm… because it’s our anniversary?” Regulus says, confused because didn’t they just establish that?

“Our anniversary’s on Saturday.” James says simply.

“No. It’s Friday.” Regulus corrects him.

“No. It’s Saturday.” James says with a little chuckle.

“James, you asked me out on the 8th.” Regulus tells him.

“Yeah… but you didn’t say ‘yes’ until the 9th.”

“I… oh.” Is all Regulus can manage to say.

“Now,” James says and pulls Regulus onto his lap. “I have some surprises planned for Saturday, but we can absolutely celebrate on Friday also.”

“No. That’s stupid.” Regulus mumbles as he buries himself in James’ chest, hiding his face that is probably several shades of red.

“Nope. We’re doing it!” James says excitedly. “And I’m disappointed with myself that I didn’t think of it first. So…” James starts talking about what they should do on Friday and Regulus feels so stupidly happy as he cuddles impossibly closer to James.

[caitified]

i luv ur fics omg 😭 could u do paige x reader who loves horror where paige is scared of horror and they go to halloween horror nights (a haunted house theme park event thing) or watch a horror movie together 💜

haunt

paige bueckers x reader

warnings: none! as someone who gets scared easily i basically wrote myself here as paige..happy late halloween.

you and paige had been planning halloween night for weeks, and tonight was finally the night. there was a haunted house in town everyone had been talking about. at first, paige had acted super confident, teasing you about how you’d be clinging to her the whole time. but as the days passed and halloween night got closer, you noticed a slight shift—her teasing softened, and she started hinting that maybe haunted houses weren’t really her thing. you had your suspicions, but you knew she’d never admit she was scared.

as the five of you arrived at the haunted house with azzi, jana, and aubrey, paige tried her best to play it cool. “just so you know, i’ll protect you all,” she said, winking at you while gripping your hand just a bit tighter than usual.

aubrey raised an eyebrow, giving her a skeptical smile. “sure, paige. we’ll all depend on you.”

azzi and jana exchanged amused glances, both of them a bit more excited than scared, though you could tell they were gearing up for the jump-scares. the entrance to the haunted house loomed ahead, dark and eerie, with creepy music and distant screams filtering out through the walls. you felt paige shift beside you, her fingers trembling slightly as she glanced nervously at the darkened doorway.

“you good, paige?” you teased, leaning close and squeezing her hand.

“me? scared?” she scoffed, sounding a bit too quick to dismiss the idea. “nah, i’m just… mentally preparing.” her voice was confident, but her eyes kept flicking back to the entrance.

you just laughed, finding her bravado adorable. “right, you’ll keep us all safe from the monsters.”

“obviously,” she shot back, puffing up a little. “but, uh, don’t let go of my hand, just in case.”

as you all stepped inside, the door slammed shut with a loud bang, and paige jumped, squeezing your hand even tighter. azzi and aubrey snickered, giving her playful nudges as you walked further into the dimly lit, twisting hallways. shadows seemed to move on their own, and every corner held another actor ready to jump out. with every lunge or sudden scream, you felt paige tense, inching closer and closer to you.

“you sure you’re okay?” you whispered, catching the way her eyes darted around at every little noise.

“totally fine,” she whispered back, trying to sound casual, though her grip on your hand was practically a death grip.

the first jump-scare came from a figure dressed as a ghoul, who leaped out from behind a doorway, and paige let out a yelp, practically leaping into your arms. azzi burst out laughing, clapping her hands, while aubrey teased, “our fearless leader, everyone!”

paige shot them both a glare, mumbling, “it just… caught me off guard.”

jana gave her a knowing smile, shrugging. “if you say so, paige.”

moving on, you came into a foggy room filled with eerie mannequins, some posed in twisted, unnatural shapes. the group hesitated, glancing around, when suddenly one of the “mannequins” came to life, lunging toward you all with a guttural scream. everyone screamed and scrambled, with paige clutching you even closer, burying her face against your shoulder for a moment before peeking out to see if the coast was clear.

“that wasn’t… that bad,” she mumbled, cheeks pink.

“not at all,” you teased, leaning in close. “want me to hold your hand through the rest?”

she rolled her eyes but didn’t let go. “don’t act like you’re not a little scared too,” she murmured, though her voice softened as her fingers laced with yours, grounding herself with your presence.

as the group continued, azzi and jana took the lead, laughing as they bravely navigated the dark hallways, while aubrey stayed closer to you and paige, occasionally tossing a smirk your way when paige shrieked at another scare. when you entered a pitch-black room with only faint, echoing whispers, paige’s breath caught, and she leaned even closer, her hand warm and steady in yours.

“i can’t see anything,” she whispered, her voice a mix of fear and excitement.

you leaned into her, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “i’ve got you, paige.”

by the time you made it out to the exit, paige let out a long, relieved breath, still holding your hand as if she didn’t want to let go.

“so… not scary, huh?” you grinned, looking up at her.

paige finally laughed, letting go of your hand just to wrap an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “fine, you win,” she said, grinning down at you. “but next year, we’re carving pumpkins or something.”

sorry for the lack of fics, i’ve been really busy but i’ll be writing more now. requests are STILL open!! thanks for reading

[revelboo]

Rambles/ clarification of my nonsense

• I just wanted to go ahead and clarify something before you guys make the connection between the TF One Megatron fic and the latest Thundercracker bit and start asking. First off, I have a fated mate series I write. I do love that trope, but I have an issue with how it’s handled sometimes so I will gently poke fun at it from time to time.

• I don’t like the insta-love eyes meeting across a room and falling hopelessly in love that some novels incorporate. I prefer love/affection to be earned over time through actions. Insta-love always comes across to me as losing a piece of yourself to another person, losing free will. Instant attraction or lust? I can work with that, tie it to a sense of belonging that keeps dragging you into that person’s gravity whether you want to be there or not. Just because it’s fated doesn’t mean it’s perfect or easy. I want the characters to clash, to fight that sense of need and maybe even resent that bond at first. Slowly building up trust and getting to know each other.

• If I write more TF One characters, I’ll probably use fated mates in that universe because I’m a gremlin and I like writing conflict. I wouldn’t mind writing that version of Starscream, B127, or Optimus Prime at some point.

• This blog started as a venting space. I needed to work on manuscripts, but I was so burnt out and my usual tactic of just swapping to a different project wasn’t working. I’d open the documents and just stare at the screen in dread. So, I wrote a silly little Starscream snippet, because I used to write fanfiction on FFN years ago under a different handle. And I missed writing silly, self indulgent nonsense that didn’t have to be perfect. The quick bullet point snippets I do are actually how I quickly get scenes down to expand later.

• I only meant to make a few characters and scenarios and then go back and start fleshing them out like a properly formatted story. Then you guys started asking questions, asking about different characters. So I just kept going, because I honestly missed writing for fun, for myself. Nothing serious, just telling a story to amuse myself. I needed an outlet for the stress and this is it.

• So, thank you guys so much. I’ll keep these going as long as folks want to read them, because I really did miss the Transformers community. There’s a sense that when you swap to professionally writing, you’re not supposed to keep doing the fanfiction stuff. You’re supposed to grow up and just write novels, nothing else. And that’s why I stopped ten years ago, but this makes me happy. I can do both and it’s not like I follow normal writing rules anyway. I’ve been told my writing can be too visceral, too much like a stream of consciousness instead of a literary work. That used to bother me, but that ship’s not only sailed, it caught on fire and sank with no survivors. Never been great at following rules anyway.

• And maybe someone else needs to hear that. You don’t have to stop what you enjoy because it’s ’unprofessional.’ Keep it separate, but keep doing it if it makes you happy. It shouldn’t be a trade off.

[lov-3-rs]

Filthy Mouth

Simon Riley x Reader

(mdni 18+)

-

-

Simon’s name lit up your phone screen, and for a moment, you thought you were imagining it. You hadn’t heard from him in weeks, His last mission was longer than expected. But as soon as you swiped to answer, your heart kicked up in your chest, knowing his voice was about to fill the space where all that silence and loneliness had been.

-

“Hey baby,” you said, a little breathless, trying to keep it light. You hadn’t expected the rush of feelings that came with hearing his voice again.

“Hello love.” His voice was smooth, deep, and as familiar as the back of your hand. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. I should be home by tomorrow Night. I have a long drive ahead of me” he said, Simon hated flying public airlines, you roll your eyes as you remember him saying that too many freak “accidents” happen.

“I’ve missed you so much. It’s been too long hun.”

He breathed in and exhaled sharply, it sounded like he was smoking a cigarette.

“Too long huh?” there was a pause. “baby i’ve missed you in so many ways.” he let out another exhale but it was more frustrated than the last. You swallowed, feeling a sudden heat rise in your cheeks. “Simon…” You said his name softly.

“No, baby you don’t understand” he said, his voice dropping a notch, rougher now. “I’ve missed how you feel against me, the way your body fits so damn perfectly with mine. But what I’m really talking about is the way my cock fits so perfectly in you.”

Your pulse raced, your body already reacting to his words. He always had a way of making you feel like he saw right through you, peeling back every layer with just a whisper.

“Simon, you…can’t wait till you get home to say this?” you whispered, your voice shaky with a mix of desire and surprise. “You know I hate being teased” You could feel yourself getting wet.

“Wait?” He chuckled darkly, low and slow. “Baby, I jack myself off at what has felt like every night just thinking about you moaning my name…you know that, right?” He paused once more. “Are you wet right now love?” His voice was a raw ache now.

Your breath hitched in your throat. You couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through you. “God, Simon…”

“Yeah?,” he said softly, smiling to himself. “I’m counting down the fucking hours. Hell, the minutes until I get to see you again.” He continued, “baby I need you to do something for me.” you felt like you knew what was coming. The words were tangled in your head, “yeah Si?”

“I want you to touch yourself,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, more intimate.

You closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his words wash over you. Your hand moved slowly under the thin fabric of pajamas pants you were wearing, inserting two of your finger. It’s been a hot minute since you’ve touched yourself because somehow Simon is the only person to really make you cum so you gave up trying to even please yourself. “fuck Simon…” you said in a soft whisper of pleasure.

He smiles to himself, “that’s it baby just keep prepping yourself for me.” Simon had the most outrageous and painful boner but it felt so good hearing you moan and the slick sounds of you fingering yourself in the background. “now baby I want you to get that dildo you got in your nightstand.” you stopped what you were doing and you felt your face get hot.

You didn’t really use your dildo because it definitely wasn’t near his size and again Simon is the only one to truly satisfy you, but he also never mentions sex toys or likes using them during sex so him talking about it was completely new territory, it shocked you to say the least.

But regardless you grabbed your dildo from the nightstand beside you. “okay now what?” your voice was so needy you felt almost pathetic.

You could hear him take a drag from his cigarette and exhaling the smoke once more before speaking, “fuck yourself with it” he demanded. Wasting no time you did as he said and started pumping it in and out of yourself, your head flying back as you moan his name, “god simon.” He chuckled “that’s right baby say my fuckin name” you kept pumping the dildo in and out wishing it was him, hitting that sweet spot inside you.

He doesn’t speak for a moment just to listen to your sweet and aching moans. Eventually he breaks his silence, “When I get home i’m going to fuck you and i’m going to fuck you hard and as i’m thrusting my cock into you i’ll be stuffing that dildo in you too, i’m going to make sure you’re nice and full.” You started to pump the dildo faster, grinding on it while your eyes rolled back into your head, “Simon i’m going to cum” you were breaking ready to explode. “fuckin do it, cream on that fake dick” you kept hitting that sweat spot till you saw god damn stars “oh my FUCK” you moan out-loud and riding out your high.

He grunted as he shifted himself in his seat trying his best to ignore the hard-on in his pants and gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white. “God I love you, i’ll see you soon love.” he says his goodbye and hangs up before he makes you do it all over again. You layed there panting for a few minutes and coming down from what felt like heaven.

Fuck.

Him and his filthy mouth.

-

-

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 24

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: little bit of trauma talk, but otherwise a light chapter!

wc: 2.1k

Chapter Selection

Damian handed me a large manilla envelope as he came through my door. “Father said to give this to you.”

I frowned, opening it. The first page was an employment agreement. For ‘services to the Wayne family' I was being offered a salary of $120,000 a year for the duration of my education, and a signing bonus of an additional $10,000 up front. Under that was a paper with the name and number of a friend of Bruce's on the board at Gotham University's medical program, and a scribbled note that he was expecting my call. And under that was a pile of pamphlets and booklets on the medical program at GU, with specific details and classes highlighted.

“... Well, he's nothing if not thorough.” I shrugged, setting everything aside and pulling out the ingredients to start on dinner.

“What is all that?” Damian grabbed a snack from the fridge. 

“Just some paperwork; I’m thinking about going back to school.”

He nodded, getting set up at the table to work on his homework. “... Father also mentioned you're going to be the primary contact at my school?”

I nodded; “is that ok with you?”

Damian looked over at me. “... Yes, that’s fine. … Do I bring you the papers they send home then?”

“Yeah, I can take anything they send home.”

He nodded, pulled out a flier for spring semester PTA sign-ups. I took it, reading it over. “Looks like PTA meets on the first Monday of every month during last period. Maybe we can make a day of it!”

“... Do what?” He frowned.

“I'll come for the PTA meeting, and then Jason could pick the both of us up, and we'll get dinner before we take you home.”

“... You're joining the PTA?”

“Yes, I am.” I smiled brightly.

Damian frowned, eying me suspiciously. “... Why?”

I shrugged. “Why not?”

He watched me for a minute; “... You just … want to spend an hour a month with the parents and teachers at my school?”

“Let’s just say I’ve learned not to trust those people to treat their students right. I want to make sure they remember who they’re dealing with.”

“... Alright.” He nodded once, going back to his work.

I prepared dinner, humming softly to myself. Eventually, Jason knocked on the door, and I went to let him in. He smiled softly, kissing my forehead, and took a seat at the table. “... Babe, what's this?”

I looked over, he was looking through the paperwork Damian had brought. “Ah, I was gonna talk to you about that tonight. … I'm thinking about going back to school.”

“... Medical school? … And what's this about ‘services rendered to the Wayne family'? What services?” He frowned, looking up at me. I popped dinner in the oven and went to the table.

“... Should we go into my room to talk?” I looked over at Damian, who was staring at us.

“... Ok?...” He frowned a bit and I offered Jason my hand. He took it, following me to my room.

We sat on my bed, Jason still holding the paperwork. He looked through them, a confused frown on his face; “... What's going on?”

“... You said you were more comfortable than usual when I took the blood sample. Right?” He nodded slowly; “well, that night I was thinking about it … about your scars. … Bruce said you don't let anyone treat you unless you’re brought in unconscious?”

Jason nodded again, frowning deeply. “... I … I have a hard time trusting strangers with medical equipment … and I don’t like going to the Batcave for treatment either … they’re … they know what they’re doing, but … I don’t like the look on their faces when they have to treat me … makes me feel … ill.”

I nodded. “Well, I know some of your scars bother you, … and they wouldn't be so prominent if you were able to get proper treatment when you get wounded. So, I was thinking I could get the training to be able to do that for you, if you think you’d be comfortable enough for that?”

He blinked a bit, frowning. “... You … you want to get trained to- … why?”

I gently squeezed his hand, stroking his knuckles with my thumb. “Because you need someone you feel safe getting medical treatment from. You deserve to feel safe. And if I can help you with that, I will. … I don’t want you bleeding out in an alley somewhere, or trying to dig a bullet out of your own shoulder, or who knows what else, you know? … I love you, Jason, I want to help you.”

He frowned, squeezing my hand tightly. “... I … I don't know what to say…”

“You don't have to say anything right now. We don't have to decide this today, it's just something to think about.”

“... What about the ‘services rendered' part?”

“Well, if I get this training, I'll be able to act as an emergency clinic for the others too.”

“Oh. So, Bruce is going to pay you to be our medic?”

“Basically. That way I'll never be at the diner when you guys need care. I'm also joining the family's Thursday afternoon training sessions.”

Jason nodded slowly, pulling me into a tight hug. He sniffled softly, mumbling; “... I … I didn't want to pull you into this world…”

“If you’re in this world, I’m in this world.” I cupped his cheek gently, kissing his forehead. “I want to be able to protect myself, and I want to be able to help you, and Damian, and the others. I will not be dead weight, and I will not watch you suffer needlessly.”

“You wouldn't need to be able to defend yourself if it weren't for me…”

“It's Gotham, my love. Self-defense classes are probably the most popular type of extra-curricular activity in the entire city for every age group.” I stroked his hair, holding him close.

“... I guess … but I hate that you're in extra danger because of me…”

“I think it balances out; I'm also extra secure because of you. Who'd be stupid enough to knowingly fuck with Red Hood's girl?” I smirked a bit, running my hands through his hair.

He frowned, holding me closer. “... Only the worst of them.”

“And they'd fuck with anyone for any reason anyway. So it doesn't matter.” I cupped his cheek, rubbing the tips of our noses together. “I'm happiest and safest with you, and we'll deal with the consequences together.”

“... I wish things were different. … I wish loving me didn't come with consequences…” 

I sighed softly; “well, we could always leave Gotham. Start over somewhere else…”

“... Can't do that…”

“I know you can't. So, we'll just have to play the cards we've been dealt, right?”

He sighed softly and nodded, kissing my shoulder. “... Not gonna let anyone hurt you, baby. Promise.”

“I know you won't.” I hugged him tightly. “I know you wanna take care of me. And I wanna take care of you too.”

He nodded slowly, wrapping his arms tighter around my waist. “... Ok. … Th- thank you, baby… thank you…” I nodded, hugging him tightly. He sighed softly, kissing my jaw softly. “... Wait a minute, how much is Bruce offering you? …”

He picked up the paperwork, frowning deeply. “Oh hell no. Don't sign anything yet, I’m gonna renegotiate this for you.”

I giggled, kissing his neck. “It’s more than I make now.”

“It’s insulting. $120,000 for an on-call doctor? Is he trying to piss me off? No, if he’s gonna pay for this, he’s gonna  pay you a fair fucking wage!”

“Well, I’m probably not going to get a full doctorate; I only need to know enough to take care of your day-to-day medical care. More like … a field medic. He's also funding my education, is going to pay for any supplies I need, and has the connections to get me into the medical program with no questions asked. I think it's fair.”

Jason groaned, pulling me closer. “... I get to renegotiate after you're done with school.”

“Deal.”

Mrs. Webster frowned deeply as I took a seat in the auditorium at Damian's school. She slowly approached, holding a clipboard. “... What are you doing here?”

I smiled brightly; “this is where PTA sign ups are happening, isn't it?”

“You're not a parent.”

“Ah, no. But I am one of Damian's adults, and Bruce has made me the primary contact for school related concerns, so I thought I might as well get involved. I'm very … passionate about Damian's education, after all. As I'm sure you remember.” I smirked, watching her nose wrinkle. Eventually, she thrust the clipboard into my hands, and I signed up, providing an email address and phone number.

“... You won't be able to bully the PTA into doing things your way. I hope you know that.” She frowned.

“Fortunately I have no intentions to bully anyone. I do have a habit of calling out any bigotry I run across, but that shouldn't be a problem anymore. Right, Mrs. Webster?”

She very nearly growled as she stormed away. A few of the moms that were mulling around stared at me, but that quickly stopped when I waved to them. I thought I’d be left to my own devices, but soon enough, an older couple made their way over, sitting near me.

They introduced themselves, shaking my hand; “Which one is yours, dear?”

“Damian Wayne.” I smiled softly.

The woman blinked a bit. “You're Damian Wayne's mother? … Oh, forgive me, but I thought …”

“No, no! I'm a big sister.” I chuckled softly. “I don't even know who or where his mother is, I'm kind of a new addition to the family.”

“I see. Well, it will be nice for him to have someone getting involved. Our Sarah is in many of the same art classes as Damian, and it's always so sad to see him on his own at the after school events.”

I nodded. “That's exactly why I'm here. He was so pleased when I offered to come to the art show last semester, I want to see him happy like that more often.”

“Oh, that was quite the event! Did you hear? We didn't see it, but apparently someone threatened Mrs. Webster!” The woman cackled softly. “Such an unpleasant woman…”

“I wouldn't say I threatened her, just made her aware of certain facts. Including the fact that I am one of Damian's adults now, and she isn't going to get away with spewing passive aggressive microaggressions towards him while I'm around.”

The man chuckled; “that was you? She's been in a tizzy ever since!”

I smirked a bit; “What kind of tizzy?”

“Just insufferable. Our Sarah says she's been more harsh than ever in class.”

“I'm so sorry. I wasn't trying to make things worse for anyone…” I frowned deeply.

“Oh, you aren't responsible for her behavior, dearie. She's always been a rude one…” the woman gently patted my hand.

“Sarah has her troubles. You know, mental health stuff. All the kids seem to nowadays…”

“And Mrs. Webster, well … she doesn't ‘abide by that nonsense’.” She scoffed.

“And of course there was the instance with the lesbians.” Her husband frowned slightly.

“The lesbians?” I frowned deeply.

“This sweet little girl with lesbian parents last year. Mrs. Webster met her mothers at a parent-teacher conference and apparently started treating the girl … well, different. … They moved over the summer, I do hope they're doing better now…”

I frowned deeply, watching Mrs. Webster on the other side of the room. “Hm… so she's not just racist, she's ableist and homophobic too. Gross….”

“She's never said anything overt about anything, nothing worth bringing up with the administration. But she's a … vexing woman.” the woman sighed.

“Well, … maybe individually they're not big things worth mentioning, but together they make up a big pile of nasty. … Do you know anyone else who has ‘small’ problems with Mrs. Webster?”

“Oh, maybe a few people… it's really not worth bringing up though.” She waved her hand dismissively.

“Yes, it is. We should bring the numerous ‘little things' to the administration. Establishing the pattern of behavior will be important to getting justice if they know about anything bigger. And no matter what comes of it, it's important that the kids see that their adults will stand up for them.” I frowned.

“Well … I supposed it wouldn’t hurt to talk to the other parents at least …” The husband frowned, looking to his wife. She nodded slowly.

“We’ll talk to the other parents.”

I nodded; “here, let me give you my phone number. Feel free to share that with any parents who have a problem with Mrs. Webster; I have no problem being the squeaky wheel with the admin.”

They nodded, putting my number in their phones. Mrs. Webster and a few other teachers started the meeting a few minutes later, and I sat back to observe.

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

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[eowynstwin]

I don’t really know what to say. I’m very scared.

I think anyone who has committed to not having children should schedule their tubal ligation/vasectomy ASAP. They came for abortion. They’re coming for IVF. They’re going to come for your ability not to get pregnant next.

One thing I learned last year when I was contemplating ending my life was that escaping despair was not about running away from something—it’s about chasing joy down and bringing it into your life. Feeling better meant giving myself specific things that made me happy to focus on.

So I started eating foods I’d never had but wanted to try. I got back into doing my nails. I bought myself easy crafts to do because I wanted to learn how to sew and crochet and embroider. None of that solved the real problems that were causing my despair, and I had to do things that addressed those problems directly. I’m not saying little hobbies and retail therapy will save this country.

Sometimes despair is the thing that chases you down instead. It is for all of us right now. And I don’t think I have anything in me to say that can give anyone hope for a future that looks pretty bleak. All I know is I’ve lived in despair before and it’s the first thing that will kill you, if you let it.

What I am saying is that when you have a problem you can’t solve right away, you medicate the symptoms so at least you can live in some comfort. If you’re too tired or too hopeless or in too much pain to feel like life is worth living, you won’t live, and you won’t see any reason to.

I’m going to do what I can to make my life happy for the next four years. I’m resolving to get back into painting and drawing. Sometimes the little things you give yourself to look forward to are what carry you through the worst parts of living.

I’m not gonna say everything is going to be okay, because for a lot of people it simply isn’t. I’m very sorry.

I guess what I want to say is there are still little good things ahead. There’s a really good piece of fruit you’re gonna eat in the future. Yarn might go on sale at the craft store so you can make a sweater if you want. For now the trees are still green. Chase joy with me.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hii, I love your fics, especially the Moon Knight ones, sometimes I'm so giddy that I need to take a step back and remember myself that they aren't real.

May I request headcanons about the Moon Boys overhearing reader talking to their pet (probably a kitten) about how much they love the boys, and their quirks and their little differences and just going on and on about how perfect they are?

I understand if not, I will love whatever you post regardless!

Oh my gosh, this is so adorable! I hope I did it justice!

Just Happy

Jake Lockley x gn!Reader • Rating: PG pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? • ask-travaganza masterlist •

Summary: Jack eavesdrops.

Warnings: Fluff, Jake being emotional, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 482

You stroke behind Salem’s ears, the small kitten’s eyes are closed, his head pressed as close as he can to your hand. 

“You like that, hmm?” You smile, “Who’s my favourite little guy?” 

Salem purrs loudly. 

Jake smiles from his position in the doorway, his hair still damp from the shower. Both Marc and Steven were still asleep, Steven hadn’t come to bed until well into the early morning and now that things in their life were calmer Marc was using the opportunity to catch up on fifteen years of rushed power naps. 

“Who is it, hmm?” You lean down and kiss the top of Salem’s head three times. 

Jake can’t help himself, he slowly takes out his phone from his pocket, not wanting to alert you to his presence. He finds the perfect angle and then starts filming, he’d have to send this to the group chat Steven had created. Affectionately called ‘The Body 💪📖🚗⚾’

“It’s yoooooooou!” You say sing-song to Salem and grin, “Well you’re my favourite little cat guy. I think Steven, Marc, and Jake might complain if they’re not my favourites too. Though I don’t think they’d mind being second best to you.” 

At the sound of Steven, Marc, and Jake’s names Salem perks up his ears and meows softly. 

“Yeah! You love them too, don’t you? They are the best, we love them so much. Because they’re so kind and great. And they give you the best pets, don’t they? Well, second best, I’m best obviously.” 

Jake covers his mouth with his hand, trying not to laugh. He’s smiling so hard it’s hurting his cheeks, his chest so light it’s almost painful. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes, his throat thick. He tries to force the emotion down, but it just builds and builds. 

“I know part of the reason you’re so excited when you hear their names is you think you’re gonna get extra treats, I know they give you more than they should.” You smile. “Can I tell you a secret?” You lean a little closer and Salem looks up at you with large eyes. “I love them so much, literally so much. Every day my heart gets a little bigger with how much I love them. Opposite Grinch situation going on in here.” You tap your chest. 

“Amor,” Jake’s voice makes you jump, and you turn from your position on the floor just in time for him to wrap his arms around you in a bear hug. 

You let out a little oof of air and then giggle, “Were you spying on me?” 

“Yes.” He mutters into your neck, his voice is thick and wavering. 

“Hey, you okay?” You stroke his back and try to move to see his face. But he just snuggles deeper into your chest and squeezes you tighter.

“I’m fine.” 

“You sure?” 

“Just happy, my love. Just happy.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[salty-autistic-writer]

Bucktommy with some “had a crush” ChimTommy. (Inspired by the stills for episode 6)

(AO3 Link)

“Do you know I used to have a crush on you?”

Tommy almost chokes on a piece of white bread and wouldn’t that be hilarious? Pulling an Evan right in front of Howie?

Howie, who is responsible for Tommy and Evan meeting in the first place? Without Howie, this wouldn’t be possible. Nothing of this. They wouldn’t sit at the table in Evan’s loft. They wouldn’t eat dinner together. They wouldn’t talk about old and new times.

Tommy wouldn’t be even alive without Howie.

And now …

“What?” He sputters, baffled.

“Yeah.” Howie is patting Tommy’s back with a half-amused, half-worried expression. “Please don’t die on me now. Not again. I might be too drunk to make good decisions right now.”

Tommy shakes his head and reaches for his bottle to pour the pesky bread down with some beer. “I’m good. But … What do you mean you had a crush on me?!”

Howie shrugs. He takes another sip of his beer, his cheeks a little flushed. “Look. No one can blame me. You’re ridiculously handsome and cool.”

“Thank you,” Tommy says, flustered. He feels a sting too though. Old guilt. “I wish I wouldn’t have been such an asshole. You tried so hard even though the first impression you got from me was a racist remark. And I pushed you away.” Hard. He pushed hard. Still remembers the irritation he felt when that new guy just wouldn’t give up. Wouldn’t shut up. Wouldn’t stop being so heartachingly nice. Tommy didn’t know how to deal with that.

Howie hums and nods. “I remember. I was there. Look. We talked about this. Many times. You apologised. I told you I forgive you. We are good. So I really hope you don’t think you still have some kind of debt to pay.”

Tommy swallows. He looks down at his feet, suddenly feeling guilty and bashful. “Well, there’s something I should tell you … I promised myself to be more open in general. We had some talks, Evan and I. About things like holding back truths. Keeping feelings a secret. And I don't want to do that anymore. So, um, you should know that I also had a little crush on you.”

“No way, man,” Howie leans back and chortles. “No way! That's amazing.”

“Well. Yeah,” Tommy smiles weakly. “You were kind. Funny. Capable. Handsome. And after you saved my life … When I saw you at the hospital, showing up and acting like it’s a normal thing to do. Well. I couldn’t really help myself.”

He remembers their hug. He wanted to put everything he felt back then into that hug. Did he succeed? He'll never know. But he tried.

“Imagine,” Howie says, his eyes getting a distant look like he really does already imagine. “Everything could have been so different. But here’s the thing. As flattered as I am, I wouldn’t want things to be different.”

Tommy nods seriously. “Same.”

“Maddie is the one, man,” Howie says dreamily.

Tommy smiles. “I can see that.”

Everyone can see the love. It’s in the glances Howie and Maddie exchange. In the familiar gentleness of their touches and in the fond way they smile at each other when Jee does something cute. And Tommy is happy for them. For what they found and built. What they fought for.

“I would do anything for her,” Howie adds seriously, then raises a brow and moves to clink his bottle together with Tommy’s. “To love.”

“To love,” Tommy says, his mouth suddenly dry.

Love.

Later, when Evan comes home, Tommy still sits at the table and fidgets, lost in his thoughts and memories.

“Hey. You okay?” Evan asks, tilting his head with a small smile and a barely-there frown. “You seem … distant.”

Tommy shakes his head, folding his hands. “No. I’m fine. I was just thinking. Howie and I talked a lot today.”

“Well, I hope he didn’t tell you all the embarrassing stories about when I started at the 118 as a careless, reckless hothead,” Evan chuckles, putting a hand on his hip and leaning against the kitchen counter, his eyes bright and his cheeks flushed. “I talked to Maddie and Josh a lot too today.”

“Oh?” It’s Tommy’s turn to raise a teasing brow. “About me?”

“Maybe,” Evan says, the corners of his mouth twitching and the blush spreading on his face.

After that, a moment of silence stretches between them. It feels … loaded with emotion somehow. It feels like they both want to say something but still hesitate because it feels so significant that they forget how to express it.

But Tommy has too much experience with keeping things to himself. He also knows that time is never a given thing. You never know what will happen tomorrow. Never know how much time is left in a life’s hourglass.

He clears his throat. “Evan. I have to tell you something. I -”

“I love you!” Evan blurts.

Tommy’s breath hitches. Everything seems to slow down until there’s nothing but the echo of Evan’s words.

“I love you,” Evan repeats and he’s wide-eyed, tears glistening in the blue. “I do. And I know we have had some … talks lately. About some serious things. About your past and my past. And, and you don’t have to say it back. Not yet. It’s okay. I needed to say it though. I needed you to know. Because -”

Before he can ramble on, Tommy is already on his feet and reaches for Evan, cupping his face and capturing his open lips in a kiss.

Love.

That’s love.

“I love you too, Evan.”

[1byhwng]

”you’re so pretty” - Han jisung

. . ____________________________ . .

Synopsis- Han tells you his insecurities so you find a way to make him understand how beautiful he is.

warnings - MDNI, read at your own risk 🤷🏽‍♀️

It was a long day and you finally got home heading straight to the room, to see your boyfriend. When you walk into your shared bedroom you see him wrapped up in a blanket playing a game on his phone. Weird. He’s usually sleep by now.

“Ji?” You call out setting your bag on a hook before climbing into bed with him. He looks over to you shocked “you’re back already?” He asks taking his attention from the game and focusing on you. You slide over in bed next to him laying your head on his shoulder. “I come back at this time every night, ji” you say, suspicious of his tone. “Are you okay?” You speak softy turning to fully looking at him “you can tell me.”

That’s when you noticed the tear streaks on his face. He looks away once you realize not saying anything. “Baby..” as soon as the word leaves your mouth he curls up into a ball and starts sobbing. You shake your head before pulling him into your arms. “I don’t know what wrong with me..” he whispers laying his head on your chest. “I’m annoying, ugly, and dumb.” He says sniffling. In shock you sit up pushing him away “what?” You speak before grabbing his chin, forcing him to look at you “what makes you think you’re any of that? You’re talented, handsome, sweet, kind, and plenty more. Don’t ever forget that.” You say planting a kiss on his cheek. “But-“ you press a finger against his lips to stop him from continuing before getting out of bed, pulling him with you. He needed to learn how great he actually was.

“Y/N? W-what are you doing?” He says as his voice betrays him. Without answering, you take him over to your standing mirror. “Look at yourself. What do you see?” You speak softly, hugging him from behind, smiling as your arms trace his waist slowly moving down to tease him, making him flinch in shock, before moving them back. "answer me." he opens his mouth to speak but closes it as a light shade of pink washed over his features. "do i need to tell you myself, baby?" you say

"n-no I can...I see a—I cant do it." he whispers the last part almost as if he was telling himself instead of you. He looks down avoiding his own reflection like the plague. As much as he wanted to deny it the raging boner in his sweats made it quite hard. no pun intended.

Once you notice, you moved your hands to the waistband of his sweatpants tugging them to let him know. Almost immediately he starts pushing them down, leaving him in his boxers as your hands trail from his waist to the inside of his boxers. He tenses up before relaxing again as you take his length in your hand, rubbing your thumb across the tip causing his hips to jerk forward, his hand covering his mouth. You tighten your grip around his cock whenever he tries to fuck into your fist. "you’re very beautiful, baby." you whisper against his ear making him shiver and his cock throb in your hand.

You start dragging your hand up his shaft at a steady tempo only stopping to give more attention to his leaking tip. Every little thing you do makes him whine and moan, his body getting hotter by the minute.

you move your hand away to get on your knees in front of him, pulling down his boxers. His cock springs out and you hear a gasp as it slaps against his stomach. You lick his tip teasingly looking up at him, watching his expressions. “I cant believe you thought you were ugly.” You mumble before you take him in your mouth inch by inch. You start bobbing your head up and down his cock, keeping yourself steady by holding onto his sides.

You stroke what you couldn’t fit and he whines, his voice soft and breathless. “Y/N…” his hips thrusting into your mouth, a trail of moans leave his lips. His hands move up to play with your hair before pushing your head down, his tip pressing against the back of your throat. You feel tears in your eyes, your grip on his waist tightening.

“f-fuck y/n, baby please..” he groans trying to push away once you start bobbing your head again. “S-do good..” He moans looking down at your body, eyes full of lust as he watches you take his cock in your mouth. “ baby..I’m so close.” He whines leaning over you trying to keep his balance as his body shakes from the pleasure. Before he could cum you pull your mouth off of him, leaving him there with teary eyes. You look up at him with sweet innocent eyes before pulling him down with you.

you realize his state and oh was it beautiful. He had tears slowly falling from his eyes, face red from embarrassment , cock throbbing pathetically against his stomach, his tip flushed a deep red, and his hair a mess with strands falling into his face.

”what do you want pretty boy?” You speak taking his cock in your hand starting to stroke his length before speeding up. He tries to grab at your hand only to lean forward and lay his head in your neck. “Y-y/n” he moans out thrusting into your hand. “You’re doing so good baby, keep going for me..” you whisper into his ear as your other hand goes up to play with his hair. As soon as you realize he’s about it cum you pull away.

“baby, please-!” He whines into your shoulders. Only changing positions to rub his dick against your leg. You couldn’t help but smile at him, you weren’t surprised that he was like this.

Pulling away, you push him down his back and straddle him. This was gonna be a long night

[penkura]

PENKURAAAAA

I love your writing, especially for Law and Zoro. I'm also a sucker for the parent fics you do. What if reader and Law/Zoris kids were to surprise reader on their birthday? What would they do? How would they do it? Maybe reader thinks everyone forgot their birthday but the crew is actually just in on the surprise? Thanks for reading friend, I would love to see what you think ^^♡

HIII THANK YOUUUU I'm so glad you like the parent fics, they're some of favorite to write. 😊

I didn't think I'd finish this in time to post on my birthday but I did!! I wasn't sure where to go at first so I just started typing and this is what I've got!! I'm pretty happy with it myself, so I hope you like it too!! 😄

Law

Law has never forgotten a birthday or anniversary ever since you first got together. His ability to remember every date leaves you impresses every time, especially after your son and daughter were born, he kept every important date in the front of his mind so her never forgot. He intended to celebrate every important, special day so you and your kids knew how much he loved you. You make sure to do the same for Law, even if he’d rather you not celebrate his birthday, the grins he gets from your children every year make it worth remembering the day.

That’s why it’s very strange to wake up on your birthday without Law in your bed with you, or even your son Rosinante yelling ‘happy birthday’ to wake you. Your daughter Cora is still learning to talk, but even she would already be in your bed and giggling to help get you up for the day. It’s odd, you’re not sure what to think as you start getting ready for the day, still no sign of your family or the other Heart Pirates around. Once you leave your room, it’s oddly quiet but you pass by a few of your crewmates on your way to Law’s office, expecting him to be there at least. None of them say anything about your birthday, Bepo and Ikkaku seem a little antsy when you greet them, though you don’t think anything of it, even when they try to guide you to the kitchen instead.

You don’t go with them, saying you’d like to see your family first, opening the door to Law’s office and being surprised at what you see. Law at his desk is normal, even with your daughter sitting in his lap, but what’s different is the amount of streamers across the walls and floor, wrapping paper pieces mixed in, your children busy scribbling away on paper likely making cards for you.

It's so early you can’t believe the two are awake, especially seeing how Law appears to he asleep, his hat over this face and leaning back in his chair, but still holding little Cora so she can sit up and continue coloring.

Of course he wouldn’t forget, he was probably trying to surprise you, keeping things a secret and bringing your children to his office so you could sleep in while he got things together. That would also explain why most of your crewmates seemed anxious around you, they didn’t want you to figure it out too soon.

“Mama!”

When Rosi sees you, he’s torn between excited and upset, you weren’t supposed to see anything yet and the five-year-old was doing his best to keep everything secret after Law brought up your birthday and making cards for you. He pouts a little, but still jumps up to hug you, which you return.

“You weren’t s’pposed to see yet…”

Quietly laughing, to not wake Law even though Cora is starting to whine when she sees you, you hug Rosi a bit tighter before kissing the top of his head.

“You’re so sweet! I’m sorry I saw everything, sweetie!”

Rosi whines this time, telling you that you’re hugging him too tight, before you let him go and move to pick up Cora, who squeals when you do so and kiss her cheeks. Law doesn’t even wake at that, you wonder if he actually slept last night or not.

“You’re all so wonderful, I’m so blessed to have you guys.”

Rosi makes you promise not to tell anyone that you know, and you’re still surprised later that day at how big the party is. Law tells you later that your son thought it up, he just helped put it all together with the rest of your crew. No one finds out that you knew, Rosi keeps it a secret too and even when your daughter nearly drops her piece of cake on your shirt, it’s still the best birthday you’ve had in a while.

Zoro

While Zoro isn’t the best at remembering dates, your birthday is one he never forgets, no matter how long you’ve been together or how many other important days come and go. You know your captain and crew well enough that anything worth celebrating gets a huge party, birthdays are no exception, especially so after your daughter’s birth a few years ago. Every first for little Kuina was celebrated as only the Straw Hats could, food and drinks galore, even though she’d be confused by what was happening.

When she’s four-years-old and your birthday comes around again, Kuina is adamant on you having a big surprise party, even when Zoro tells her you aren’t the biggest fan of surprises (your unexpected pregnancy with her being an exception). She’ll pout and fuss until Zoro finally agrees, enlisting Nami and Sanji to get everything planned but not tell him the details. He trusts them to get everything planned, Kuina being their biggest help, but Zoro doesn’t want to know anything, so he doesn’t potentially spoil you on the surprise.

Kuina is better at keeping the secret than anyone else. If you ask her what she’s doing, when she grabs all her paper and coloring supplies, she just tell you she’s going to make a map with aunt Nami. That’s not unusual so you don’t question it, she does bring you her own map later that day anyway.

When your birthday finally comes around, neither Zoro nor Kuina says anything, they aren’t even around when you wake up that morning. Not uncommon though, everyone normally lets you sleep in on your birthday, but usually Zoro is there and Kuina comes running in after a few minutes to wake you both.

Once you’ve dressed and gotten ready for the day, you head for the kitchen, but you’re confused when no one you pass says anything to you apart from a good morning. Usopp just grins and says it, Franky does the same. Luffy is barely audible as he runs off to wherever, dragging Jinbei along with him. It really makes you wonder if they’ve all forgotten what today is. You don’t see anyone else until you get to the kitchen, only to have streamers from party poppers hit you in the face, hearing Kuina say ‘oops’.

“You weren’t supposed to do it in her face, Kuina!”

“Sorry, daddy!” Kuina gives you an apologetic look before she smiles, “Sorry, mommy! Happy birthday!!”

Once you’re able to see the kitchen better, there’s streamers and balloons round the room, your favorite breakfast all made and ready, a cake in the middle of the table, and every member of your crew there, you figure Luffy and Jinbei had slipped in behind you. They all give you their birthday wishes, and it nearly makes you cry which makes Zoro smirk at you.

“Now don’t cry about it. It was all your daughter’s idea.”

“Shut up, Zoro.” You may be near tears but the smile you have tells everyone you’re happy, as Kuina comes out and hugs you with a pout.

“Mommy, don’t cry! I made you a picture!!”

It’s childish work of course, she’s only four, but it’s still an adorable picture she’s drawn of the two of you, making you hug her back and lift her off the ground.

“Thank you so much, Kuina. I love it!”

You never question if any of them have forgotten your birthday again, expecting it to be due to Kuina having her own little plans for your special day. You’ll have to do the same for her next year now.

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Perfect - Logan Howlett x ftm!Reader

A/N: Okay, so I really hope this is good. I based the Reader off myself, so I hope the reactions and frustration are at least somewhat accurate. I also added a little bit of angst. Hope that’s okay

Based on this request

CW: fluff, angst, Reader has AuDHD, Reader is an artist, frustration, anger, perfectionism, pacing as stimming, Logan is a good boyfriend, Reader is called handsome, Reader is his own worst critic, forehead kisses, cheesy ending, soft ending

699 words

“Logan!” You almost jump out of your seat, not expecting to look up and see him standing there.

It’s a habit of his, moving silently. It scares the shit out of you most days. You’ve nearly gotten hurt jumping out of surprise.

Today you just drop your sketch pad, your pencil falling to the floor. You bend down to pick them up, setting them to the side.

“You said you wanted to see me?” Logan quirks an eyebrow, watching you with an expression of vague amusement.

“Oh! Yeah!” You grin up at him. “I wanna draw you.”

He blinks and tilts his head a little. “What?”

You nod eagerly and get up, pacing a little. “I saw an art challenge online about drawing something you love. So I want to draw you.”

He snorts, watching you move about the room. “You’re fucking cheesy, you know that?”

You give him your best puppy eyes. After a moment, he lets out a sigh. “Fine. But I’m not wearing a shirt for it.”

You hesitate for only a moment before agreeing. It’ll be fine. You’re great at drawing. This’ll be a piece of cake.

You’re on your fourth attempt and it’s only getting worse. You don’t know why, but you just can’t get the shape of his stomach right. No matter what angle or line you use, it looks… odd.

You exhale in frustration, feeling overwhelmed. You’ve never struggled so much before. Why now? Why now? Why with Logan?

“Hey, hey.” He crouches next to you, resting a hand on your thigh. “Calm down. Just breathe, alright? It’s just a drawing.”

“It’s not!” You don’t mean to snap, but the frustration feels endless. “It’s a drawing of you! It had to be perfect!”

You get up out of your chair and stalk about the room, clenching and unclenching your fists. Tapping them angrily against your sides. “I’ve done this like a million times before! Why not now?”

Logan watches you for a moment. Then he picks up one of your abandoned sketches and smoothes it out. “This one looks pretty good to me.”

You barely glance over. “It’s not good enough.”

He frowns.”It’s good enough for me. I like it a lot. Especially the way you draw my eyes.”

That gives you pause. You stop your angry pacing and turn to look. He holds up the drawing for you to see. If you ignore the stomach and the unfinished arm… you guess he has a point. You did capture his eyes well… and his shoulders. Those were hard.

You cross your arms, giving yourself a moment of sulking before you sigh and relent. You hate fighting with Logan and you don’t want to start arguing over something he genuinely seems to like. Even if it’s not perfect.

With a soft grumble, you walk over and tuck yourself into his side. Wrapping your arms around his waist and snuggling into him. It helps soothe the last of your frustration. Calming the burning restlessness in your limbs, even just a little.

He rests an arm around you, still studying the drawing. You eye it with a light glare, but hold back from commenting on everything wrong with the drawing.

“It’s perfect,” Logan says, finally. “My favorite.”

You blink up at him. His… favorite? Out of all your drawings, this is his favorite? “Wh— Why?”

“I dunno.” He shrugs. “I just love it.”

You think it’s absolutely ridiculous he doesn’t have a reason, but you don’t say that aloud. Instead you just nod. “Alright.”

He gives your side a soft squeeze. “You good now, handsome?”

You roll your eyes at the nickname but nod. “Yeah. I’m good.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because it’s my turn now. I’m drawing you.”

You fake a groan of protest, but willingly head over to the couch. “I expect a full scale portrait. Complete with horses and a golden chariot.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll do my best. Just sit down.”

You grin as you sit. Maybe your drawings didn’t turn out perfect, but your boyfriend certainly did. Maybe not for anyone else, but perfect for you. And you wouldn’t want him any other way.

Logan Howlett Taglist: @yhlqmdlg @alekkkkssss

[swamp-chicken]

wl ficlet episode 3, 596 words

After a certain amount of time, words stop to have meaning. Bdubs guesses it’s that time, because nothing he says seems to matter and nobody seems to care. He’s in an alliance, but they’re not an alliance. He’s with Etho, but Etho isn’t with him.

Words are all Bdubs has these days. He used to think actions were enough, but that idea died a few worlds ago. What does it mean when he saves one person and kills another? He thought that it made him loyal, a stalwart companion. But then people started saying he was scared instead.

What does it mean when he does everything for the people he loves, but he only gets mistrust in return? What does it mean when he wastes blood, sweat, and tears on them and they turn on him in the end?

All that’s left are words. So when Bdubs wakes up, peering up at a clear blue sky that should be a ceiling, it’s obvious to him what he has to do to make things right. So maybe things had been tense. So maybe Tango and Etho had preferred to work a little separately from him. So what? It wasn’t something he couldn’t fix. A few well-placed words and they’d all be back like buddies again, the crimes of the past forgiven.

There’s a spring in Bdubs’ step when the session starts, when he gathers up with Tango and Etho to start strategizing. He doesn’t dilly-dally before cutting to the chase.

“I am going to start with an apology session.”

Etho and Tango exchange skeptical glances but Bdubs is undeterred. They may be skeptical now, but just wait.

Bdubs knows how to make his voice quiet and sincere. He knows how to make his gaze soft and imploring. “Tango,” he starts. “I’m sorry for stabbing you in the back when we were on BEST team.”

Bdubs waits, brimming with eagerness. Once Tango forgives him, they can start building trust again. They can be an alliance. And then Etho will want to stand with them, of course. Following along, just like the old days.

But—Tango’s blinking at him, no warmth in his gaze. And then Etho speaks. “A couple years late, isn’t it?”

Bdubs doesn’t feel very springy anymore. “This is genuine.” The words barely come out from behind his clenched teeth.

Etho is watching his reaction with a twist of amusement. “Why today out of all days?”

Sitting on Etho’s horse, Bdubs had thought they’d worked this all out. He thought he had uncovered the root of the issue, had talked everything through. Words! Leaping out of Bdubs’ mouth and into Etho’s ears. But something was still festering.

Bdubs can fix it. “And I apologize to you, Etho, for getting the best horse in Minecraft.” Words, tumbling out of his mouth too hasty. There’s no time to imbue them with sincerity, to warm up his imploring gaze.

Two disbelieving stares are turned against him. Bdubs feels backed into a corner, his hackles are up. “And I’ve been doing some self-reflecting and I hate myself!”

Words so strong that they can’t refuse him, that they can’t doubt his sincerity.

Etho turns to Tango. “You think this is a manipulation tactic?”

“I do,” Tango sighs. “I’m already on to his play here.”

Etho laughs. “This guy— this guy doesn’t feel any remorse!”

There's an ache in the back of Bdubs' throat. He swallows it down, indignant. After a certain amount of time, words stop to have meaning. Nothing Bdubs does matters, and nobody seems to care.

“You’re right, I don’t feel any remorse!” Bdubs smirks. "I can't believe you guys saw through that so fast." They’re laughing. He can laugh too.