#a little rough around the edges but that never hurt anyone

[lostinalem]

POV the woman you married for the Platinum Chip and subsequently murdered has arrived at your location but she can't decide if she wants to kill you or not

read more about Esme here

how did she get her gun in? she's crazy and delusional and knows the chairmen idk it just works

[dazevi]

vi x reader angst where reader and vi had something before lockup (maybe reader was desperately looking for her/a body for years and never got with anyone else because they loved vi). first time they see vi again, they’re kissing cait. vi has to make a choice (mayhaps someone tells vi how much, how long and how deep reader still loves vi)

SORRY THIS ASK IS LONG BUT NO ONE WRITES VI X CAIT X READER ANSGT AND IM FEENING FOR ITTTT CA

i've loved you for so long | vi x fem!reader, angst, squint of fluff, wc: 10k | masterlist

content warnings: not much! angst!!!, brief caitvi, childhood friend!vi, firelight kinda!reader, tiny mention of blood, bit of an open ending, uhhhhh ….

note: sorry this took so long but i hope u like it! (struggled a bit with the ending so i left it kind of open and hopeful :P

Growing up in the Lanes was never easy. The air was always thick wit smog and desperation. But somehow, in the middle of all the grime, there were moments of light—moments that felt almost normal… sweet, even.

For Vi, those moments often came when she was with you.

You were the kind of person who seemed to radiate something soft, something pure, even in a place as unforgiving as here. You were always helping someone—patching up a scraped knee, sharing what little food you had, or offering a warm smile that could ease even the sharpest edges of the Lanes’ harsh reality. Vi, on the other hand, was tough as nails, like she always was. But when it came to you, that toughness often cracked, revealing a gentler side that few people ever got to see.

You met when you were both kids, barely old enough to understand the full weight of the world you were born into. Vi had just finished scrapping with a group of older kids who had tried to steal a loaf of bread from Powder. Her knuckles were bloody, and her lip was split, but she wore her bruises with pride as she swaggered down the street.

Then she saw you—someone small and delicate crouched beside a stray cat with a limp, gently wrapping its leg with a strip of cloth you’d torn from your own sleeve. Vi had stopped in her tracks, her usual bravado faltering as she watched you work with such careful concentration. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen anyone show that kind of… tenderness.

“Hey,” she had said, her voice rough but curious, “what’re you doing?”

You looked up at her, your eyes wide and a little startled, but then you smiled. “Helping,” you said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

From that moment on, Vi couldn’t seem to stay away from you.

She’d show up wherever you were, always with some excuse—she was just passing through, or she needed your help with something, or she was making sure no one was giving you trouble. In truth, she just liked being around you. You didn’t flinch when she got into fights, didn’t scold her for her temper or her stubbornness. Instead, you had this way of looking at her, like you could see past all of that to the person she really was. And Vi, who had always felt like she had to be tough to survive and protect her family, found herself wanting to be softer when she was with you.

The two of you became inseparable, spending your days exploring the winding alleys and hidden corners of the Lanes. Vi would teach you how to throw a punch, insisting that you needed to know how to defend yourself. You’d laugh as she guided your fists, her hands warm and steady against yours, though she always ended up pulling her punches when it came to sparring.

“Can’t risk messing up that pretty face of yours,” she’d tease, though her voice would always carry a hint of something serious, like the idea of you getting hurt was unbearable to her.

“You’re an idiot,” you’d say back.

And she’d laugh, nudging you playfully against your shoulder, her all ears red as she looked at you, “But I’m your idiot.”

You, in turn, taught Vi the value of kindness, though you didn’t do it with words. You did it with your actions—with the way you’d stop to help a stranger, even when you didn’t have much to give, or the way you’d bandage up Vi’s cuts and bruises after a fight, your touch so gentle it made her chest ache. She’d sit there, watching you work, and wonder how someone like you could exist in a place like this.

And it also helped that Powder adored you too.

She’d often tag along on your adventures with her wide-eyed curiosity. You had a way of making her feel seen, of treating her like she was just as capable and important as the rest of you, and that meant the world to her. Vi loved watching the two of you together, the way you’d laugh and tease each other, the way you’d patiently explain things to Powder when she didn’t understand. It made Vi’s dreams of a better life feel almost tangible, like maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more than survival.

And then there were the jobs… or whatever she could get from Ekko.

They were never easy—running contraband, sneaking into places she had no business being. Vi loved the adrenaline of it, the thrill of a plan coming together, but there was always a part of her that thought about you while she was out there. She’d see something—a trinket, a piece of candy, a flower growing stubbornly in the cracks of the pavement—and she’d think of you.

She started bringing things back for you, little gifts she’d pretend didn’t mean anything. The first time, it was a shiny button she found while breaking into a some storage room. It was small and completely useless, but it was the kind of thing she thought you’d like. She tossed it to you when she came back, trying to act casual.

“Found this,” she said, her voice gruff. “Figured you could use it for… I don’t know, something.”

You’d looked at her, a little confused at first, but when you smiled and said, “Thanks, Vi,” she felt something warm settle in her chest.

After that, it became a habit.

She’d bring you scraps of fabric, little bits of wire and string, or a half-broken gadget Powder thought she could fix up for you. Once, she brought you a single daisy she’d found growing in a crack on the edge of the Lanes. She’d nearly crushed it during the job, and when she handed it to you, she was so embarrassed she couldn’t meet your eyes.

“It’s just a flower,” she mumbled, scratching the back of her neck. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

But you always did. Vi would pretend it didn’t matter, but her ears would turn red, and she’d fumble with excuses about why she’d brought you something in the first place.

She didn’t know how to say what she was feeling, didn’t even fully understand it herself. All she knew was that you made the Lanes feel a little less bleak, a little less hopeless.

And as the years passed, the your relationship with Vi only grew stronger. There were always moments when the certain feelings between you became almost impossible to ignore—like the time you patched her up after a particularly nasty fight, your fingers lingering on her cheek as you wiped away the blood, telling her firmly to always be careful, as your eyes search hers. Or the time she caught you staring at her with that soft look in your eyes and she felt her cheeks flush, her confidence faltering as she looked away, muttering something about how you shouldn’t look at her like that. You’d raise an eyebrow in response, then just laugh softly.

But neither of you ever said anything outright. Instead, you found comfort in the smaller things—stolen glances, the way your hands would brush against each other as you walked side by side, the way Vi’s walls would melt away when it was just the two of you.

You were more than just a friend. You were her safe place, her reminder that there was still good in the world, even in the darkest corners of the Lanes. And for you, she was your protector, your anchor, the person who made you feel like maybe you weren’t as fragile as the world wanted you to believe.

But the Lanes always had a way of taking everything good and twisting it into something painful.

The night everything went to shit was the last time life in the Lanes felt even remotely bearable. It had been tense from the start. Vander was gone, taken by Silco, and Vi’s face was set in that grim determination she always wore when she was trying to be strong for everyone else. You knew she was scared, no matter how much she tried to hide it.

You were in the back room of the Last Drop, pacing. Vi had told you to stay put, her voice sharper than usual, her gaze practically boring a hole through you.

“Don’t follow us,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Just… stay here. Look after Powder, okay? I can’t worry about you and her while we’re out there.”

You wanted to argue, to tell her you could help, that you weren’t as fragile as she thought you were. But the look in her eyes stopped you. So, you nodded, biting back the words you wanted to say, and watched her leave with Mylo and Claggor.

Powder sat on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, clutching one of her gadgets like it was a lifeline. She kept glancing at the door like she was expecting Vi to come back at any moment, triumphant and unscathed.

But you both knew better.

The hours dragged on, the silence between you and Powder filled only with the occasional sound of glass breaking in the distance or the low hum of Zaun’s underbelly. You tried to keep your hands busy, cleaning up the room, organizing scraps of whatever was lying around. Anything to stop your mind from racing. Powder didn’t really say much; she just watched you with wide, anxious eyes, her fingers fidgeting with the gears of her monkey bomb.

Eventually, exhaustion began to creep in. You figured you were working too much. You remembered Vi’s words in your head, telling you that she’s always careful, that she’ll always come back to you. And you tried to stay awake, tried to keep an eye on Powder like Vi had asked, but your body betrayed you.

Powder had been quiet the whole night, but as you drifted off, she glanced at you. She hated being left behind, hated the way Vi always told her to stay because she wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t capable enough. She wanted to prove herself, to show that she could help, that she could save them. And with you asleep, curled up in Vi’s bed, she saw her chance. Quietly, Powder slipped off the couch, grabbing her monkey bomb and a bag of supplies. She hesitated for a moment, looking back at you. She didn’t want to leave you, but she couldn’t sit there and do nothing.

Not when Vi needed her.

She crept out of the room, careful not to make a sound, and disappeared into the shadows.

The first thing you noticed as you stirred was the faint, low rumble of something distant but violent—a sound that felt like it rattled through the very walls of the Last Drop. You blinked, eyes fluttering slowly as you pushed yourself up. The second explosion was sharper, louder, and your heart leaped in your chest. It was a sound that didn’t belong to the Lanes.

Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light of the room. Everything felt too still now, too quiet, except for the faint aftershock of what you had just heard. You rubbed at your face, trying to shake off the grogginess, and then you noticed it—bright, electric blue sparks flickering in the distance, visible through the small, grimy window. Your stomach dropped as a sense of dread washed over you. Your breaths came quicker now, shallow and uneven, as you sat up fully, scanning the room.

“Powder?” you called out softly, your voice hoarse from sleep.

You looked around, the familiar clutter of the space offering no sign of her.

“Powder?” you called again, louder this time, but the silence that followed made your chest tighten.

You stumbled to your feet, nearly tripping over a discarded piece of scrap on the floor. Your eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign that she was still there—a glimpse of her small frame huddled in the corner, the sound of her fidgeting with one of her gadgets.

But there was nothing.

The couch where she’d been sitting earlier was empty, the blanket you’d draped over her crumpled and abandoned. The faint smell of oil and metal lingered in the air, but it was missing the warmth of her presence.

“No, no, no,” you muttered under your breath, your mind racing as you pieced together what must have happened.

You remembered the way she had been clutching that monkey bomb earlier, the way her eyes had flickered with something desperate and restless.

She left.

Your knees nearly buckled as you made your way to the window, pressing your palms against the cold glass. The sparks of blue still flickered in the distance, bright against the dark, polluted haze of the Lanes. The explosions hadn’t stopped, and now there were faint trails of smoke rising into the air.

“Powder,” you whispered, the weight of her name heavy on your tongue.

She had gone after Vi, you were sure of it. The thought hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. She was out there—your sweet, fragile Powder—in the middle of whatever chaos was unfolding.

And Vi… Vi had told you both to stay behind.

Now, you were running as fast as you could.

And when you got there, everything was on fire.

Buildings were crumbling under the weight of the flames, black smoke billowing into the sky and choking the air around you. The heat was suffocating, stinging your eyes and making it hard to breathe. You stood there, frozen, your wide eyes scanning the devastation. The ground was stained with dark, wet streaks that gleamed in the firelight—blood. It was everywhere, smeared across the cobblestones, trailing through the debris, pooling in some places as if marking the spots where someone had fallen.

But there were no bodies.

No sign of Vi. No Mylo. No Claggor. No Powder. Just… nothing.

Your chest heaved as you tried to take it all in, your mind struggling to make sense of the chaos. The silence was deafening, broken only by the relentless crackle of flames and the occasional groan of a collapsing structure. You called out for them. You spent hours waiting, searching and trying.

But, there were no voices, no footsteps, no cries for help.

Just emptiness.

Nothing.

The days blurred into weeks, the weeks into months, and the months into years. Time moved forward, but you stayed stuck in the same moment—the night everything fell apart. The fire, the blood on the streets, the faces of everyone you loved burned into your memory like scars you couldn’t erase. It didn’t matter how much time passed. You never stopped seeing them. Never stopped feeling the weight of their absence.

Life in the Undercity didn’t wait for grief. It didn’t give you the chance to sit still and process the ache in your chest or the emptiness that had swallowed your world whole. The streets you grew up on were darker now, quieter, yet somehow more dangerous. Shimmer twisted its way into every crack and corner, poisoning the air you breathed.

You still had Ekko. He stuck close, as much as he could, and you were grateful for him in ways you couldn’t put into words. But even with him around, the loneliness lingered anyway.

Nights were the worst. The silence of your small, dimly lit room pressed down on you, and your mind replayed every memory of Vi, Powder, Mylo, and Claggor. Sometimes, you could almost hear their laughter echoing in the distance.

Almost.

You never stopped looking for her.

At first, it was constant. Every waking moment you scoured the streets, searching for any trace of her. You asked anyone who would listen if they’d seen her, but no one had. Not a single person could tell you where she had gone or what had happened to her. Some said she was dead. Others said she’d been taken topside, to Piltover’s dungeons. You didn’t know which was worse.

You looked for Powder, too. Sometimes, you felt like you’d seen traces of her somewhere, certain colors she liked, drawings on the wall… It was like she was there, but she wasn’t… like she didn’t want to be found.

And years passed, but the hope never left you. Not fully. Even when the streets seemed colder, even when Ekko begged you to stop putting yourself in danger, you kept searching. You’d walk the streets at night, hood pulled tight over your head, hoping to catch a glimpse of her pink hair or hear her sharp voice in the crowd. Every time you saw a tall figure in the shadows, your heart would leap, only to sink seconds later when it wasn’t her.

You wondered, sometimes, if she was looking for you too. If she was out there somewhere, wondering what had happened to you. If she missed you the way you missed her. Those thoughts were the only thing that kept you going on the hardest days.

The Undercity changed around you. The shimmer trade grew stronger, its effects spreading like a disease. People you’d known your whole life turned hollow, their eyes glassy, their voices slurred. Survival became harder with each passing day. But even as the world around you crumbled, you held onto the memory of Vi.

Her voice. Her laugh. The way she used to look at you when she thought you weren’t paying attention, as if you were something more than just a friend. The way she used to bring you small, silly things from her jobs—half the time things she swore she’d found by accident, even though you knew better.

You missed her so much it hurt.

Then, one night, Ekko came to visit you.

He had news about Powder.

He’d seen her, he said. And it didn’t make sense at first.

He sat across from you in the dim, flickering light of the small hideout you’d both retreated to. His voice was almost hesitant, but heavy with something you couldn’t quite name. Regret? Anger? Grief? Maybe all three, twisted together in a way that made him seem older than he was, like the years had weighed heavier on him than they should have.

You were hunched over, elbows resting on your knees, your face buried in your hands. It had been another fruitless day, searching for a ghost you weren’t sure even existed anymore. Your body ached, your head throbbed, and the emptiness in your chest felt like it might swallow you whole.

And then Ekko said it—he said her name.

“Powder… she’s not the same anymore.”

At first, you thought he meant something else. Maybe she’d grown up like the rest of you, toughened by the streets and the weight of survival. Maybe he’d seen her, and she was angry, distant, bitter about the past. You could’ve handled that. You could’ve understood that.

But that wasn’t what he meant.

“She goes by Jinx now.”

You lifted your head slowly, confusion knitting your brow. “What are you talking about?”

Your voice was sharp, tinged with a nervous laugh that didn’t quite land.

“Powder wouldn’t call herself that. That’s not… that’s not her.”

Ekko’s gaze didn’t waver. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, his expression hard but laced with pain. “It is her. She’s with Silco now.”

The words hit you like a blow to the chest. “No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “She wouldn’t—she’d never—”

“She’s different, (Y/n).” His voice cracked, just barely, but enough to make you flinch. “She���s not the kid we knew. Silco got in her head, twisted her up. She’s… dangerous now.”

You sat back, your body rigid, your mind spinning. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. Powder was sweet, shy, maybe a little clumsy, but always full of love and hope. Powder adored you. Powder idolized Vi. She’d never turn into someone like… like that.

“Where did you hear this?” you demanded, your voice low but trembling. “Who told you?”

“I saw her,” Ekko said flatly. “It’s her, (Y/n). She’s been running with Silco’s people for years. She’s the one behind half the chaos in the Lanes right now. You’ve heard about the explosions, the heists—the people disappearing. That’s Jinx.”

He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening.

“That’s Powder.”

You stared at him, the words refusing to sink in. It felt like someone had ripped the ground out from under you, leaving you floundering in freefall.

“You’re wrong,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Powder wouldn’t… she wouldn’t do that.”

“I wish I was wrong,” Ekko muttered, his voice thick with bitterness. “But I’m not. She’s gone. The Powder we knew—she’s gone.”

“No,” you snapped, louder this time, anger rising to the surface as your chest tightened with panic. “She’s not gone. She’s just… confused, or scared, or… something. She wouldn’t just…”

Ekko’s face softened, but his eyes were filled with sadness. “I thought the same thing when I first saw her. I wanted to believe she could still come back, that maybe I could fix it. But she’s too far gone. Silco’s got his hooks right into her. She’s not the kid we grew up with anymore. She’s…”

He paused, the words catching in his throat.

“She’s dangerous.”

You shook your head again, your hands trembling as you pressed them against your thighs. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Powder was your friend, your family. She was bright and sweet and full of so much love. She wasn’t… she wasn’t a monster.

The thoughts clung to you every night. Powder—Jinx—had become someone unrecognizable, and you couldn’t stop the questions from flooding your mind. What would Vi think if she knew? Would she be disappointed in you for not doing more, for not stopping Powder before it was too late? Would she think you’d failed her?

Vi. Her name echoed in your mind. You missed her in a way that was so all-encompassing it became a part of you. You missed the way she used to tease you, the way she’d smirk like she had the world figured out, even when she didn’t. You missed patching her up after a fight. You missed how she’d smile at you, telling you that things to brighten your day. You missed everything.

It was only recently that you realized why the ache felt so sharp, so endless. You loved her. You’d loved her for years, even if you hadn’t admitted it to yourself until now. It was why you couldn’t let her go, why no one else had ever been able to fill the void she left behind.

People had tried. There were a few who flirted with you, a few who asked you to dinner or drinks. But you’d always brushed them off, always found an excuse. None of them were her. None of them had her fire, her strength, the way she made you feel seen and safe all at once.

The years hadn’t been kind to you, but you’d done your best to survive, to keep going even when it felt like the world was crumbling around you. You’d thrown yourself into helping Ekko and the Firelights, finding purpose in their mission even when you felt lost.

You patched them up when they were injured, your hands steady as you cleaned wounds and wrapped bandages. You shared what little food you had, sometimes going without so they wouldn’t have to. You became someone they could rely on, even if you didn’t always feel strong yourself.

But that strength went away a couple months later—the day you saw her again. It was something you didn’t prepare yourself for. You hadn’t expected it at all.

The sunlight filtering through the cracks of the hideout’s makeshift roof caught on the edges of your hair as you worked, pulling ripe fruits and vegetables from the small garden that the Firelights had nurtured in secret. The air was damp but fresh, filled with the earthy scent of soil and the faint hum of life. You liked working in the garden—it gave you a moment of peace, a small break from the weight of everything outside.

When you were done, your hands were covered in dirt, and a bead of sweat traced its way down your temple. You wiped your brow with the back of your arm, sighing softly. A few of the others nodded at you in thanks as they carried the baskets of food away. You stayed behind, crouched by the water pump, scrubbing the grime from your hands and under your nails.

The cool water washed over your skin, and for a moment, you let yourself pause, closing your eyes as the sound of the stream drowned out your thoughts. But it didn’t last long. The quiet never did.

Once you were cleaned up, you shook off the weariness and decided to find Ekko. You’d been meaning to talk to him about something—or maybe you just wanted to hear a familiar voice. The hideout could feel suffocating at times, even though it was a sanctuary for many. Ekko had a way of cutting through it, reminding you that there was still something worth fighting for.

But as you made your way through the winding halls of the hideout, you stopped short, your breath catching in your throat.

In one of the side rooms, barely lit by the faint glow of sunlight filtering through the cracks, you saw them.

A girl with blue hair stood close to another figure, her delicate fingers brushing against the cheek of the person in front of her. You couldn’t make out their faces at first, your mind taking an extra second to register what you were seeing. But then the pink hair caught the light, vibrant even in the dim room, and your chest tightened.

Vi.

Your Vi.

And she wasn’t alone.

The blue-haired girl leaned in, her lips brushing against Vi’s in a kiss so soft, so tender, that it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Vi didn’t pull away, her hand resting gently on the girl’s waist, her shoulders relaxing in a way you hadn’t seen in years.

You froze, rooted to the spot, your feet unwilling to carry you forward—or away. Your mind raced, a thousand thoughts clamoring for attention, but none of them loud enough to break through the sudden ache in your chest.

She was here. She was alive. But she wasn’t yours.

You didn’t know whether to cry out, to step into the room and demand an explanation, or to turn and run before they could see you. You wanted to be happy that she was safe, but all you could feel was the slow, creeping weight of heartbreak as it settled over you.

Because in that moment, it was clear—Vi wasn’t yours to miss. Not anymore.

“You have some explaining to do.” The words feel foreign on your tongue, but they spill out before you can stop them.

You stand at the threshold of Ekko’s lab, chest heaving, heart racing in disbelief. The image of Vi with another woman—kissing her, holding her—flashes in your mind and it’s all too much.

Ekko stands abruptly, looking as startled as you feel. His eyes widen, and his hand instinctively scratches at the back of his neck, a nervous tick you’ve known him to do since you were kids.

“I—I was gonna tell you today,” he stammers, voice cracking slightly as he fumbles for his words. “We just got her last night… when we ambushed Jinx…”

Your breath catches, a knot of frustration and hurt tightening in your chest. “You ambushed Jinx? And now you’re bringing Vi back in like this? Without telling me?”

The words come out harsher than you intend, but it doesn’t matter right now. Your mind is spiraling.

Ekko holds up his hands, trying to calm you, his gaze softening. “I was going to tell you! I just… After everything with Jinx… I didn’t know if she was someone I could trust yet.”

His words hit you like a slap, and for the first time since you walked in here, a part of you slows down. After everything that happened, Vi could very well be someone you couldn’t trust. Someone who might have changed in ways you couldn’t understand. It stings to admit, but the doubt starts to creep in. You know Ekko—his loyalty runs deep, but he’s also careful. He always has been. You take a step back, your fists uncurling as you exhale sharply.

You swallow your frustration and let the silence settle between you, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Can we trust her?

The question hangs in the air, unspoken but felt, before you finally speak it.

“So… can we?” Your voice is quieter now, more hesitant. You want to hear reassurance, but you’re not sure if it’ll come.

Ekko doesn’t answer immediately. He exhales, a long, drawn-out sigh that betrays a weariness you hadn’t noticed before. When he finally looks up at you, his gaze holds something you hadn’t expected—a tenderness, a vulnerability. His lips curl into a small, almost wistful smile, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s seeing something you can’t.

“I think so,” he says softly, his voice quiet but steady. “I think we can.”

You sigh, blinking a few tears away.

“Who’s that… that girl she’s with?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper, though your heart is pounding in your chest.

You keep your eyes on the floor, unwilling to meet Ekko’s gaze, because the truth feels like it might crush you. The girl you’ve loved for as long as you can remember, is with someone else now. And it’s hard to wrap your mind around it, let alone confront it head-on.

Ekko’s silence stretches out for a moment, the room growing thick with the tension that neither of you knows how to ease. But then, slowly, his eyes soften, and you can hear the careful way he breathes in, like he’s about to tell you something heavy. His voice is gentle when he speaks, like he’s trying to cushion the blow without sugarcoating it.

“Her name’s Caitlyn,” Ekko says, and there’s a noticeable pause before he continues, as though he’s gathering his thoughts, picking out the right words. “She’s… She’s an enforcer, but…she’s different. I don’t think she’s on Silco’s side.”

Your stomach tightens at the mention of Caitlyn’s name, and you can feel a bitter knot in your throat.You finally glance up at Ekko, your eyes searching his face, desperate for any trace of what this means.

“Are they…?”

Ekko looks at you for a long, quiet moment, like he’s weighing your reaction against his own thoughts. He doesn’t look at you with pity, though; there’s no judgment in his gaze. Just understanding.

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice low. “But I think Vi’s been through a lot. And Caitlyn… I don’t know what they have, but I can’t pretend I understand it. I’m still trying to figure out where Vi stands with all of this… All I know is Vi wants her sister back.”

You can’t look at Ekko anymore. The pain of it is too much, a heavy weight that presses down on you like the sky is collapsing. You back away, trying to swallow the lump in your throat, your hands trembling slightly.

“I thought… I thought she’d come back for me, for us,” you say softly, almost to yourself. The bitterness in your voice is unmistakable.

Ekko doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but you can feel the weight of his sympathy.

Finally, he speaks again, his voice quieter, softer. “I don’t think she’s forgotten you. I think she’s just trying to figure out everything for herself… Besides, she was… actually wondering if you were still around.”

“She was?” Your voice is quieter than you intended, almost shaky as you try to grasp what he just said.

Ekko nods, though his face is filled with something close to guilt, like he knows how this news might break you. “Yeah. She asked about you when she came in… said she didn’t know what happened to you after… everything.”

You let out a shaky sigh, your chest tightening at his words. The weight of it presses down on you, sinking deep.

“Where has she been… all this time?” The question slips out quietly before you can stop it.

Ekko hesitates, his eyes softening as he looks at you. There’s a long pause before he finally answers, each word like a slow puncture to your heart. “Stillwater.”

The name hits you like a punch to the gut. You freeze, unable to process at first, the words echoing in your mind, bouncing off the walls of your skull. It’s a place that steals everything from you, even the will to remember who you were before. Your throat tightens, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

Vi… Vi was there?

The thought twists something deep inside you, like a sharp ache that spreads through your chest and down into your stomach. It felt impossible to imagine Vi—your Vi—there. The strong, fearless girl you grew up with, the one who fought for every scrap of life she could hold onto. The thought of her, trapped in that hellhole, stripped of the fire that had always burned in her… it’s unbearable.

“You should… probably be talking to her about all of this.”

You freeze at Ekko’s words, your heart pounding in your chest. The thought of speaking to her again, of standing face to face with her after all these years, makes your blood run cold. Your chest tightens, and suddenly, breathing feels like a chore.

“I…” You try to speak, but the words get stuck in your throat.

What could you say to her? After all this time? The distance between you both feels impossibly wide now, like a canyon you’ll never be able to cross. The thought of seeing her, of facing the reality of what’s changed, of all the years that slipped through your fingers—it paralyzes you. You want to see her. You want to run to her and hold her, tell her everything you’ve kept locked away for so long, but you can’t shake the feeling that you’re not ready for that.

Your hands are shaking now, and you clutch at the edge of the table for support, your palms slick with sweat.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” you say.

Your voice cracks under the weight of your own fear. The thought of facing Vi, of seeing her and realizing how much has changed, of feeling the space that’s grown between you both—it feels impossible.

Ekko watches you, his expression softening with understanding, but there’s something else in his eyes, something unreadable.

“I get it,” he says quietly, taking a step closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to rush into anything. I know you’ve been carrying this around for a long time.”

But the truth is, you don’t just carry the weight of all that time apart—you carry the weight of your own fear. Fear that she’ll see you as a stranger. Fear that you won’t know how to talk to her anymore. Fear that everything that once felt so easy between you and Vi will have changed beyond recognition. The thought of her not loving you anymore, or of you not being able to love her the same way, makes your stomach churn.

You bite your lip, unable to finish the thought, as your mind races in a thousand different directions.

“Does she know I’m here?”

Ekko’s gaze shifts, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. He looks like he’s struggling with something, something he doesn’t want to say, but he knows he has to. He shifts on his feet, a sigh escaping him as he scratches the back of his neck again, the tension in his posture telling you more than his words ever could.

“I… I told her you’re around,” Ekko finally says, his voice soft but weighed with caution. “Not here exactly, though. I wanted to warn you before…”

Before everything changes.

But a knock at the door stills the air in the room. It’s sharp, sudden, and it cuts through the heavy silence that’s settled between you. You don’t move at first and Ekko hesitates for a moment, then turns, just as the door creaks open.

And then, there she is.

You freeze, unable to breathe, unable to move as your eyes lock onto hers. It’s like the whole world stops for a moment—your heart, your thoughts, everything. She’s standing there, in the doorway, her eyes wide as they sweep over you. It’s as if she’s seeing you for the first time, like she can’t quite believe you’re here. That you’re real.

Her gaze flickers across you—your eyes, your face, the way you’ve changed over the years. You can see the shock in her features, the way her breath catches for a split second before she can speak.

“(Y/n),” she whispers, her voice raw, as if the sound of your name in her mouth is a shock to her as much as it is to you.

There’s a long pause. Neither of you move, neither of you speak, as if neither of you knows how to start, what to say. Vi stands there, her eyes fixed on you, and you can see the wheels turning behind her expression. She doesn’t look the same as the girl you once knew, but her eyes—those blue eyes—are still the same, full of emotions you can’t quite place.

Vi’s eyes trail down your form, and you can see her struggling to hide the way her gaze softens as she takes in how you’ve grown, how you’ve changed. You’re different now—more than just the girl she once knew in the Lanes—but somehow, at the same time, you’re still the same person. The one who was always kind, always caring. The one who had a heart too big for the world they were in.

You watch as her eyes linger on you, not saying a word, just staring. A small breath escapes her lips, like she’s struggling to hold back some emotion, some surge of feelings that are too heavy for her to put into words. She opens her mouth to speak, but then closes it again, like the words are stuck inside her.

“I, um… I have work to do, Ekko.” Your voice cracks, and you can feel the tears stinging at the back of your eyes.

You tear your gaze away from Vi, your heart pounding in your chest as if it’s trying to break free. The weight of everything, of all the lost time, of everything you thought you had buried, feels like it’s crashing down on you in waves.

You can’t look at her anymore. Not like this. Not when everything in you is screaming to hold her, to ask her why she left, to beg her to stay. But you can’t. Not yet. Not when the hurt is still so raw.

You turn quickly, brushing past Vi with a sharp movement, your steps frantic, but trying to remain composed. Your heart races in your chest as you feel the heat of her eyes on your back, but you don’t look back. You can’t. The moment you do, you’re afraid you’ll break, and you can’t afford to break now.

The door slams shut behind you, and you can hear the soft echo of your hurried footsteps fading as you walk away. You don’t look up, don’t let yourself feel the weight of the emptiness in the room, even though you know it’s all there.

But you’re not ready. Not yet.

Ekko watches the door for a moment, his gaze thoughtful and a little sad. He doesn’t say anything, knowing that nothing he could say will ease the tension in the room.

Vi stands there, still frozen, her mind processing everything all at once. The way you walked out, the way you didn’t look back, how quickly you shut yourself off. She swallows hard, as if trying to force her emotions to settle. But they don’t. They’re all tangled up in her chest. She wants to go after you. She wants to explain.

“(Y/n)…” Vi whispers the name, barely above a breath, as if saying it out loud will somehow make it real, bring back the girl she thought she had lost forever. “She’s… grown.”

“We all have.”

His eyes flicker to Vi, his expression unreadable. He takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words, but nothing feels quite right. He knows how this is going to land—knows it’s going to hurt, even though he wishes it didn’t have to be this way.

“I think she saw you and Caitlyn,” he says quietly. “Together, I mean.”

Vi’s body stiffens at the mention of Caitlyn’s name, her eyes snapping to Ekko in disbelief. The shock is instant, followed by a sharp pang of guilt that twists in her chest. Her mind races, trying to make sense of the situation—of the way you had looked at her, of how you had walked out without saying anything more, as if something between the two of you had shattered. And now this. She opens her mouth to speak, but the words get stuck, tangled in her throat.

Ekko slumps back in his chair, his fingers tapping restlessly against the worn surface of his desk. He doesn’t know what to say to either of them. His gaze remains fixed on Vi, her posture still stiff, eyes distant.

“She thinks you’re together…” Ekko looks at Vi with curiosity. “Are you?”

Vi’s heart stutters in her chest, and she looks away quickly, swallowing hard.

“No,” she answers, almost too quickly. “No, we’re not together.”

Her voice wavers slightly, the truth of her feelings suddenly coming to the surface, uninvited but undeniable. Caitlyn is kind and gentle, but it’s never been like that with her. She only met her this week. Vi doesn’t know what it is, but it’s not love—not like what she’s felt, and still feels, for you.

The kiss was… a moment of comfort, of trying to hold onto something familiar in a world that’s changed beyond recognition. It meant nothing. Or at least, it shouldn’t have meant anything. But now, knowing that you’d seen it, knowing that it might hurt you—it stings. And it stings more than she’s willing to admit.

Ekko watches her for a moment and sighs. He knows Vi well enough to see that flicker of something in her eyes, that far-off look, the hesitation that’s always there when she’s thinking about you.

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” he mutters, “But you do need to talk to her.”

Vi nods slowly, her gaze flicking toward the door again.

“Yeah,” she says quietly, almost as if to herself. “I know. I just… I don’t know what to say. It’s been so long, Ekko.”

Ekko exhales sharply, leaning back in his chair. “She looked for you, you know. She hasn’t stopped. And she’s been alone for a long time too, Vi. She deserves to hear it.”

Vi doesn’t respond. The words hit her harder than she’s willing to admit. She knows Ekko’s right, but the fear of rejection still clings to her like a shadow. She’s afraid of what will happen if she faces you, afraid of seeing that disappointment in your eyes, hearing the anger in your voice. Afraid that even if she tries, it won’t be enough.

She takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settling in her chest.

“I’ll go find her.”

The climb to the top of the tree feels longer than it should, but Vi knows she’s stalling. Her hands grip the wooden edges tighter than they need to as she hauls herself up, each rung feeling like a step closer to a moment she’s not sure she’s ready for. Ekko’s words still echo in her head—She’s probably already up there, and needs the space, but… she deserves to hear from you.

And now, standing at the edge of the makeshift platform high above the Firelights’ hideout, Vi spots you. You’re sitting near the edge, your legs dangling over, one hand resting loosely on the ground for balance. The jukebox below hums softly, sending the faint notes of a melancholy tune drifting up through the cool night air. The lights of the community twinkle far beneath you, and the laughter and chatter of the people below seem like they belong to another world entirely.

Vi freezes for a moment, her breath catching in her throat. You haven’t noticed her yet, and she’s glad for it because it gives her time to take you in.

It’s been years since she’s seen you like this—quiet, lost in your own world. There’s something familiar in the way you tilt your head as you gaze out at the lights below, something achingly reminiscent of the person she remembers from all those years ago. She can’t help but wonder if you’re still the same in other ways, too. If you still laugh at dumb jokes, or hum to yourself when you’re deep in thought. If you still carry that kindness in your heart, despite everything the world’s thrown at you.

But there’s also something different, something that makes her chest ache. You look older. Wiser, maybe. More beautiful than she remembers, though she feels like that’s impossible, because she’s always thought you were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

God, you’re beautiful. The thought hits her so suddenly that it makes her chest ache. It’s not just the way you look, though that alone would be enough to leave her speechless. It’s everything about you—the way you seem so untouchable and yet so heartbreakingly human all at once. She feels like a fool for standing here and staring, but for the life of her, she can’t seem to look away.

And then there’s the way the moonlight catches on your face, illuminating the faint shimmer of unshed tears in your eyes. Vi doesn’t even need to see your expression to know what you’re feeling.

For a long moment, she just stands there, unsure of what to do or say. She wants to run to you, to pull you into her arms and tell you she’s sorry, that she’s here, that she’s not going anywhere this time. But she knows it’s not that simple. It’s never that simple.

Finally, she takes a hesitant step forward, her boots making a soft thud against the wooden planks. You stiffen slightly, your head turning just enough to catch her in your peripheral vision. You don’t say anything, but the way your shoulders tense tells her you’ve already guessed it’s her.

Vi hesitates again, her heart pounding in her chest as she moves to sit beside you. She doesn’t get too close, leaving enough space between you that you won’t feel trapped, but close enough that she can see the way your fingers grip the edge of the platform like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

For a few seconds, the silence between you is unbearable. Vi glances at you from the corner of her eye, her mouth opening as if to speak, but the words don’t come. She’s never been good at this—talking about feelings, finding the right thing to say.

But as she watches you, she knows she has to try.

“Nice spot you’ve got here,” she says, her voice softer than she intended. “It’s quiet… Beats the chaos down there.”

It’s not much, and she knows it. She winces at how lame she sounds, but she’s not sure she trusts herself to say anything more. She’s afraid if she does, it’ll all come tumbling out—the guilt, the regret, the years of wondering what could’ve been if she hadn’t been taken, if she’d fought harder, if she’d found a way back sooner.

You don’t respond right away, and she can’t tell if it’s because you’re ignoring her or because you just don’t know what to say either. She glances at you again, her eyes lingering on the curve of your jaw, the way your lashes cast faint shadows against your cheeks.

You’re so close, but it feels like there’s an entire world between you.

When you finally do speak, your voice is so soft, almost drowned out by the music drifting up from below. “It’s always been my place to think. To get away… I have Ekko to thank for it.”

Your words are simple, but they carry so much weight, and Vi feels the knot in her chest tighten. She wonders what you’ve been thinking about up here all this time. If you’ve been thinking about her. If you’ve been wondering where she’s been, what she’s been doing, why she never came back.

“I can see why,” Vi says, trying to keep her tone light even though her heart is pounding. “It’s got a hell of a view.”

She means the lights, of course, the way they twinkle below like stars scattered across the ground. But as she says it, she realizes she’s not looking at the lights at all. She’s looking at you.

You finally turn to look at her, and the look in your eyes nearly breaks her. There’s so much there—pain, anger, sadness—but there’s something else, too. Something softer. Something she doesn’t think she deserves but hopes for anyway.

“I didn’t think you’d come up here,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Vi looks at you, her throat tight, and she wishes she had the courage to tell you the truth. That she’s here because she couldn’t stay away. That she misses you.

Instead, she just nods, her voice low and a little rough when she finally speaks. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to.”

You look away again, your gaze returning to the lights below, and Vi knows she should say more, but she’s afraid. Afraid of making things worse. Afraid of losing whatever small chance she might have left to fix things.

She looks at you softly, “How have you been?”

You don’t answer right away.

The silence lingers. Vi shifts slightly, her body aching to close the distance, to somehow make things right, but she doesn’t move.

Then, it’s you who breaks the quiet after a short while, your voice soft and tentative, almost as if speaking too loudly might shatter the everything around you.

“It’s hard to think about you in prison,” you say, the words stumbling out of you before you can stop them.

Vi stiffens at the mention of it. Her chest tightens, as though she’s been struck, but she doesn’t look at you, doesn’t dare.

“I know it must’ve been hard,” you continue, your gaze still locked on the flickering lights below. “Being in there… for so long. I can’t even imagine how it felt. It must’ve been… suffocating.”

Vi can hear the way you say it, that compassion in your voice that makes her want to crumble. You’ve always been so gentle, even when the world around you was anything but.

The memories are sharp, jagged shards of regret that pierce her chest whenever she lets herself think about it. The days in that cold, lonely cell feel like a lifetime ago, but the scars—physical and emotional—are still fresh. The world had felt like a cruel, unyielding force back then. Every day in prison, every blow to her body, every quiet, restless night, had worn away the person she used to be. She couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be carefree or loved.

“I was so… lost,” Vi mutters quietly, her voice rough from the weight of years. “I spent so long… thinking about all of you, of Powder… of the mistakes I made. If i had just… If I hadn’t stepped away for one moment, maybe I would’ve still been here… Here with Powder…. Here with you.”

You glance at her then, just a flicker of movement, your eyes soft with something like pity—but more than that, something else that Vi doesn’t have the courage to name. She knows you see her now, not the image of the girl who left, but the one who came back. The one who is trying—trying, at least—not to destroy everything around her with the weight of her mistakes.

Vi’s voice breaks the silence again, this time with something raw in it, something almost painful. She shifts slightly, her hand twitching by her side, wanting to reach out but holding herself back.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you while I was in there,” she says quietly, her eyes searching your face for any sign of recognition. “The thought of you… It helped get through most of my nights. I tried to dream of you... tried to imagine what you were doing, where you were… how you’ve grown... how much prettier you probably got. I kept telling myself, ’Maybe when I get out, maybe when I find a way out, I’ll find you again.’”

She stops, her gaze falling to the ground between you both as if ashamed to even say it aloud, as if admitting the depth of her thoughts all these years will somehow make them real. But it’s there, the longing she’s buried in the back of her mind, too painful to confront but too strong to ignore.

Vi continues, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “I wondered if you thought of me, if you looked for me. If you still cared… if I even mattered to you anymore.”

You stay silent as she speaks, your chest tight with something you can’t explain. The words sting in a way you’re not prepared for, like a wound reopened, and yet there’s something strangely soothing about them, too. The fact that Vi—after everything, after all this time—had thought of you… It almost doesn’t seem real.

But you say nothing, your gaze fixed ahead, unable to meet her eyes. You wonder if it’s better this way. If silence is all you have left to offer her now. Maybe it’s easier to listen than to speak, to keep everything bottled up inside where it won’t spill over and make a mess of things.

Vi takes a deep breath, her eyes shifting between the two of you, silently asking for something, anything that might make her feel less alone in this moment. But you don’t give her the answer she’s hoping for.

For a long while, neither of you speaks. The wind brushes past you, making the leaves rustle in the trees around the hideout. Below is quiet, almost peaceful, and the sound of distant voices and music fades into the background.

Vi watches you carefully, her eyes searching for something in yours, but she doesn’t push. She knows better than that. She knows that the years have changed you, just as much as they’ve changed her. She knows she can’t expect you to just forget everything, to instantly trust her again. But she hopes, more than anything, that there’s still something left between you both, something that could grow again.

“I saw you with her,” you say. “Ekko said her name is Caitlyn.”

Vi’s eyes widen at the mention of Caitlyn, her heart stopping for just a moment. The words seem to hang in the air between you both, heavy and charged. She opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out at first, as if the truth of its too much to swallow.

You feel her hesitation, the way she tenses, and it hits you in a way you weren’t prepared for. It feels like a sharp, cold pang in your chest. There’s a rawness in your voice that you didn’t even realize was there.

The way you say it feels like it cuts through the silence between you both. Vi looks at you then, eyes wide, searching, but she doesn’t speak. She knows she owes you an answer, but what answer could she give you? How could she explain everything that’s happened in the time between your separation and now?

After what feels like an eternity, Vi swallows hard, her throat tight. She looks away, her hands fidgeting at her sides.

“It’s not what you think,” she says softly, almost too quietly, the words coming out slow and hesitant. “I… I didn’t want it. She was just… trying to comfort me.”

Vi’s mind drifts back to Caitlyn, and she can’t help but sigh. She thinks Caitlyn’s a good person—for someone from topside. There’s a softness to her, a kindness that reminds Vi of the people she used to know back when things were simpler, when she wasn’t caught between the rubble of the Lanes and the ghosts of her past. But despite Caitlyn’s goodness, Vi knows one thing, something deep in her heart that she can’t escape: no one could ever be you.

No one could replace you. The girl she grew up with, the girl she used to dream about, the girl who haunted her thoughts long after she had fallen asleep. Vi’s chest tightens at the thought. The kiss with Caitlyn, the one you saw—it’s nothing more than a hollow moment, something that never should’ve happened. She wanted it to be you.

Vi shudders slightly. The kiss, the way Caitlyn’s lips felt against hers, it was nothing like the memories of you. Nothing like the way your hand used to fit in hers, how your laugh could fill a room with warmth, how you made her feel like she was worth something. Caitlyn could never make her feel the same way you made me feel, could never replace the way you made her feel alive, like everything in her life had a purpose.

“I couldn’t…” Vi murmurs to herself quietly. “I couldn’t feel that for anyone except you.”

Her hand slowly reaches out, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as they brush against yours. Her touch is gentle, careful, despite the roughness of her calloused palms, worn from years of fighting, of surviving. She holds your hand like she’s afraid you’ll slip away, like if she lets go, you’ll disappear, and she’ll be left with nothing but the echoes of a time she can never get back.

Your eyes instinctively shift to your hands, the same hands you once held as children. You remember how easy it was, how natural it felt when you were younger, sitting side by side in the dirt or on the roof of the Last Drop, fingers intertwined like nothing could ever pull you apart. Back then, it felt like the world was small, and nothing could hurt you as long as you were together.

But now—now, everything has changed.

Her fingers curl around yours, and the warmth of her touch sends a wave of memories flooding back—soft laughter, secret glances, the way her eyes would linger on you when she thought you weren’t looking. You blink, trying to keep the rush of emotions in check, but it’s hard when every inch of you feels like it’s trembling.

Vi’s eyes flicker to the ground below for a moment, her cheeks suddenly flushed, the soft red hue creeping up to her ears. It was that same familiar blush that’d show during the times she’d gift you a tiny present from those adventurous jobs she was in. She’s so close now, you can hear her breath hitch slightly as if she’s gathering the courage to speak words that she’s kept locked away for far too long.

“I’ve always loved you, you know,” she said finally. “I never got the chance to tell you…”

The words tumble from her mouth, quiet and unsteady, but every one of them feels like it’s been etched into her soul for years. She looks up at you, the faint redness still coloring her face as she holds your hand.

“I’d really like to make for the time I lost with you.”

The noise from the jukebox below, faint music playing through the speakers, the distant chatter of the Firelights—it all fades away, drowned out by the thundering silence between you both. You stare at her, your heart racing, a million thoughts running through your mind, but none of them can fully process the weight of what she’s just said. You feel the tears burn at the back of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. You just stare at her—really look at her—like you haven’t in years.

Vi’s ears are bright red now, her gaze flicking away nervously. She’s never been good with things like this, always hiding behind her strength, her toughness.

And now, it’s all laid out in front of you.

She’s always loved you.

You swallow hard, your hand squeezing hers as you finally manage to find your voice, even though it feels as if it’s been taken from you for so long. You’re not sure if you want to speak, if you’re ready to speak, but it doesn’t matter.

A single tear slips down your cheek, catching in the moonlight that spills across the roof. You huff, your breath shaky, and quickly turn your head, trying to wipe it away before Vi can see.

But you’re not quick enough.

Vi’s blue eyes are already on you, her gaze soft, understanding, and something deeper, something tender that makes your heart ache even more. She doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you quietly, her thumb gently brushing over your knuckles as she holds your hand tighter.

The silence stretches between the two of you, but it doesn’t feel heavy. It feels like the beginning of something, something you both need but are too afraid to admit.

“You’re such an idiot,” you murmur, your voice unsteady as you try to hide the way your chest tightens.

You shake your head, still unable to fully meet her gaze, the words leaving your mouth before you can stop them. The sting of the tear on your cheek fades as you try to swallow down the lump in your throat, but it’s useless.

Vi’s lips twitch, just a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She’s always known how to make you smile, even when everything else around you seemed to be falling apart. Now, it’s the same thing. She’s still that person who knows how to make your heart feel lighter, even in times like this.

“I know.”

Her voice is soft, almost teasing, but there’s no mockery in it, only the acceptance of your words—because she’s heard them before. She’s known, deep down, that you always thought she was an idiot, that she was reckless, that she made mistakes.

But none of that mattered.

She’s always loved you. And you’ve always known it, even if you didn’t want to admit it at first.

She scoots closer to you, the space between you shrinking as she leans in, her body warm against yours. You can feel the weight of her presence beside you, the soft strength that always made you feel safe. Her hand tightens around yours, pulling it into her lap, and you let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes as if you can’t bear to look at her yet.

But her touch reminds you of who you were before everything fell apart, before the years, the distance, and the pain.

“I know,” she repeats softly, her smile growing. She brings your hand up to her lips, softly pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, the red still staining her ears as she nudges you with her shoulder.

“But I’m your idiot.”

And you want to laugh, want to smile and tease her like you used to, but instead, you just sit there. Just breathe.

Vi is here. She’s real. And she’s never stopped loving you.

And maybe—just maybe—you’re ready to love her back the way she’s always wanted you to.

ty for reading! | masterlist

[cosmicdahlias]

I Like Hearing You Talk

Logan Howlett x Reader

MINORS DNI

You’ve pined for Logan since the day he came into your life. He makes you so flustered you can barely speak around him. After Wade interrupts your drunken moment together, you’re left feeling incredibly pent up and in desperate need of release.

tags: caught mid-masturbation, oral, face sitting, multiple orgasms, p in v, big dick hurts, rough sex, choking, creampie

y’all i got nothing to say this time, i’m just down bad for logan 😭

Living with Logan Howlett had proved to be… frustrating. For most this would be due to his incredibly abrasive personality, however for you it was for an entirely different reason.

You found him PAINFULLY attractive. He was rough around the edges, blunt, quick tempered, and would maul anyone with his foot long claws if they dared look at him wrong. All of these things should have scared you off, but it only made him more alluring.

Ever since your other roommate, Wade, had introduced him to you, it had been so hard to not feel that primal need deep within your core. You struggled to even form sentences when he talked to you. He didn’t just give you butterflies, he gave you the whole damn garden. So when he invited you to sit on the couch with him and share a few drinks you felt like you were going to spontaneously combust.

An hour had passed and even though the help of a little liquid courage made it significantly easier to talk to him, you were still very much flustered. You had been telling the story of how you and Wade met back in the days when he was still a merc-for-hire.

“But yeah, essentially I hired him to rough up my abuser, make him finally pay for all the shit he did to me.”

“What’d he do to the fucker?”

“Honestly what DIDN’T he do? He beat him so bad that from what I heard he could barely even crawl. Wade gave me one of his teeth, said it was ‘a souvenir of a job well done’.”

“Well was it? A job well done?”

“I mean he never bothered me again.”

“Good, but if he ever does decide to be enough of a dumbass to come near you just let me know and I’ll take care of it. Can’t guarantee he’ll still be breathing after I’m done with him though.”

“That might be going too easy on him.” You joked.

Logan chuckled and took a sip of his drink.

“You know it’s funny, this is the most I’ve ever heard you speak.” He said.

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah, I like hearing you talk.”

“Y- you do?” You stammered, your cheeks turning a dusty pink.

Logan tucked a lock of hair behind your ear.

“I really do.”

You felt your heart thump rapidly in your chest. Everything within you was screaming for you to kiss him, but your whole body felt like concrete, immobile. Logan took your cheek in his hand, coming in so close that his lips almost brushed against yours.

“Do I have to make the first move, babygi-“

Wade burst into the room and the two of you jumped back from each other.

“GUYS! YOU’RE NEVER GONNA BELIEVE WHO JUST GOT FRONT ROW TICKETS TO MADONNA! I MIGHT’VE HAD TO SELL A KIDNEY, BUT THIS HANDSOME MOTHERFUCKER REGENERATES SO I BASICALLY GOT THEM FOR FREE!” He shouted, sitting next to you on the couch.

The rest of the night was spent with Wade completely, and unknowingly, third wheeling you two and killing all possible sexual tension.

The next day your mind ruminated heavily on the night before, you had been so close to finally having his lips on yours. You played out in your head how differently things could’ve gone had Wade not interrupted. Images of Logan taking you, claiming you from every position consumed your thoughts. By the time you came home from work the overwhelming need to touch yourself was too much to ignore.

You quickly said “hi” to Logan and stole yourself to your room, undressing and lying back on the bed. You wasted no time letting your fingers move straight to your clit, your other hand caressing one of your breasts.

You closed your eyes and moaned softly, imagining Logan’s strong hands in place of yours. You allowed your mind to echo his voice uttering words of praise, telling you all the things you desperately wanted to hear from him.

“Mmmnn, Logan.” You whimpered as you felt yourself grow close.

At that very same moment your door swung open.

“Hey, you alright? I thought I heard- oh shit.” Logan said.

You jumped nearly a foot out of your skin and your eyes snapped open to the sight of him in the doorway. You quickly pulled the covers over yourself.

“FUCK! WAIT! I WASN’T- I- hold on, could you hear me?”

“Did you forget how thin the walls are?”

“Motherfucker.” You groaned.

Logan closed the door behind him and walked over to stand at your bedside.

“Now, my turn to ask a question with an obvious answer. Who were you thinking about?” He asked.

You felt your heart do a somersault.

“You really want me to say it?”

He cupped your chin, stroking your lips with his thumb.

“Yeah, I do.” He said softly, pulling down the covers to reveal your body.

His eyes looked you up and down with the intensity and hunger of a wild animal.

“You, Logan.” You said softly.

“Yeah? Then is this little pussy all wet because of me?” He asked, slipping a hand between your legs.

You nodded.

“Thought so.”

He dragged the pads of his fingertips along your wetness.

“Now, why don’t you finish giving me that little show I walked in on?” Logan instructed, leaning down to kiss you passionately.

You turned deep scarlet.

“Logan, I-“

“C’mon babygirl, you were so close.” He coaxed, taking your hand and guiding it down. “Are you gonna be good girl and cum for me?”

You drew circles against your clit and with a shudder felt the pleasure return to you. Logan watched you intently.

“Fuck, I can’t hold myself back, not with you looking like this. I need your mouth around my cock.”

Logan unbuckled his belt, unzipping his jeans and pulling out his intimidatingly massive cock. Your jaw dropped at the sheer size of him.

“Holy shit, Logan.”

“You good?”

“Yeah, my jaw might not be.”

Logan turned your head to face his throbbing cock.

“It’s alright, only take what you can handle.”

You went to take him past your lips when he stopped you.

“Wait, one second.”

He reached over you, turning your stuffed animal on the bed to face the wall.

“Logan Howlett, what a gentleman.” You laughed.

“Hey, I’m just protecting their innocence. Now c’mon, keep touching yourself and open that pretty little mouth for me.” He said.

Logan guided himself into your mouth and you took him down to the base of his shaft.

“Fuuuuck babygirl, no one’s ever gone all the way down before.” He groaned, tangling his fingers in your hair.

He bucked his hips against your face as you stroked your clit.

“How the fuck are you not choking on me? You ever sucked cock this big before?”

You shook your head with him still in your mouth, Logan chuckled.

“No? Guess you just got lucky to not have a gag reflex. God, you’re so fuckin’ perfect.”

You whimpered around him at his words, growing close.

“That’s it, keep going for me babygirl, yeah, yeah like that. Make yourself cum with my cock in your mouth.” He said as he throbbed against your tongue.

Your back arched off of the mattress as you felt yourself tip over the edge. Your moans were muffled by Logan’s cock buried deep in your throat.

“Jesus, you moaning like that feels too goddam good.” He grunted, giving one last thrust into your mouth before pulling out.

He watched as your orgasm subsided, the heaving of your chest slowly steadying. He lowered his hand between your thighs, slipping his fingers inside you and curling them against just the right spot to make you writhe underneath him. He pulled out his fingers, taking them in his mouth and giving a growl.

“I can’t fuckin’ resist, I need you to sit on my face. Just tasting you isn’t enough.”

He moved onto the bed and picked you up, lowering you to straddle his face. His hot breath lingered on you for a second before his mouth made contact with your clit. Having cum already, it wouldn’t take long for him to get you there again. You laced your fingers in his dark hair.

“Oh god, Logan.” You whined as you felt your orgasm build.

“Mmm, fuck.” He growled against your clit.

The deep rumble of his voice vibrated through you, making you gasp as you came again for a second time. Your grip on his hair tightened as every single wave of pleasure rippled through you, rolling your hips involuntarily on his face.

You panted breathlessly, the only words coming out of your mouth being “Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmy-“

Logan took your hand in his.

“Hey, hey, easy babygirl. Breathe.”

He picked you up off of his face, lying you down on the bed. He shrugged off his flannel, pulling his white shirt from over his head and slipping his jeans off his legs. He returned his attention to you, lifting up your lower half by your thighs and slipping a pillow under your ass.

“What’s that for?” You asked.

“Makes me able to go even deeper and hit all the right spots. Trust me, I’ve been around for over two centuries which is more than enough time to figure out what feels good.”

“You know, I’ve always had a thing for older men, but you might be pushing it for me, Logan.”

He cocked an eyebrow and smirked.

“But there isn’t a gray hair on me, is there?”

“Yeah, and it’s honestly a shame you don’t age like the rest of us. You’d be damn good looking with some salt and pepper hair.”

“I think Wade said there’s a variant of me like that.”

“Well shit, I got the inferior model?” You teased.

“Watch it babygirl, or I might just have to fuck you hard enough to shut you up.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Only if you want it to be.” He said with a smirk.

Logan sat on his knees and pulled you by your hips to him, your legs against his chest. He pressed the head of his cock against the entrance of your pussy.

“I’ll start slow so it’ll be easier for you take me. Just tell me to stop if it’s too much. Alright?”

“Okay.” You said softly.

“Attagirl.”

He gingerly slid his way in. Despite his attempts to be gentle you still struggled to accommodate him. You winced and drew a sharp breath.

“Shhh, easy babygirl. You’re doing so well for me, but you need to relax if you want this to feel good.”

It was beyond attractive to see this side of him, so soft and affectionate. You knew only certain people had been privy to this. He buried himself to the hilt, pausing to let you adjust.

“I’m gonna start moving. Think you can handle it?” Logan asked.

“Y- yeah.”

“Good girl.”

Logan began to thrust at a gentle pace.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He groaned.

Even though he was going slow it felt like he was ripping you in half, but it felt good, incredibly good. You wanted more, you needed to see how that raw, aggressive nature played out in the bedroom.

“Harder.” You whined.

Logan’s brow furrowed.

“Babygirl, you’re already struggling to take me as it is.”

“I know, but I want you to tear me apart. Fuck me like an animal, Logan.”

You felt him throb inside you.

“Fuck, why didn’t you let me walk in on you sooner?”

Logan increased his pace dramatically, fucking you with an animalistic intensity. By god did it hurt and you loved every second of it. Noises, a mix of pleasure and pain, escaped from your mouth. He cocked a brow at your yelps and whines.

“You doing alright there?” Logan asked.

“Y- yeah, h- hurts so good.”

“Goddam babygirl, you really do like it rough, huh? You’re gripping me like crazy. Here, I think this’ll help you relax a little.”

His hand moved to stroke your clit, drawing circles against the delicate, sensitive skin. You bucked your hips, taking his cock further inside you.

“Goddam, look at you, fuckin’ yourself back against me. Tell me how much you love this cock splitting you in half.”

He fucked you even faster, purposefully trying to make it harder for you to speak. All you could manage was a whimper.

“C’mon babygirl, you know I like hearing you talk.” He teased, slowing his pace slightly to let you answer.

“Y- you fe-el i- incredible, b- biggest I’ve e- ever h- had.”

“That’s my girl, so good for me.” He said, resuming his brutal rhythm.

You moaned at Logan’s praise and he felt you tighten around him.

“Oh you like that don’t you? You wanna be my good girl?” He smirked, knowing he’d found your weakness.

“P- please.” You murmured.

“Good, because you’re fuckin’ mine now.”

The sound of Logan’s hips meeting yours reverberated throughout the room. He grunted at every thrust, sliding his cock out until only the tip remained inside and then sharply forcing himself back in again, making you take every single inch. His nails on the hand that wasn’t on your clit dug into your calf.

“Choke me.” You begged.

He let out a deep chuckle.

“Damn babygirl, aren’t you just a little masochist? How could I say no when you’ve been such a good girl for me?”

With one hand still on your clit, Logan wrapped his other around your throat, squeezing it tight. You let out a strained moan.

“Yeah, makes things feel even better, doesn’t it?” He purred.

Between the feeling of Logan’s hand gripping your neck, his fingers stroking your clit, and being fucked hard and fast by a cock thicker than a beer bottle, you felt your orgasm begin to build. Logan was right on the edge as well.

“Fuck, I’m so close. You gonna cum too, babygirl?” He asked, releasing your throat.

“Y- yeah, I’m- oh g- god.” You whined.

“Good girl, cum with me.”

His words were all it took. Your breathing becoming shallow and fast as you felt yourself come undone, pulsing around him. Logan groaned, burying himself deep within you, his hot, thick cum coating your insides.

“Jesus fuuuuuckin’ Christ, you feel so perfect.” He panted as he gave his last few thrusts.

You whimpered as Logan slowly pulled out and laid beside you, pulling you to him with your head against his chest. You both lay in silence for a moment, him stroking your back before finally speaking.

“You know, when I offered to have drinks with you last night I thought you’d take the hint. I was really banking on you at least kissing me, before Wade killed the mood and all.”

“I wanted to, I just…” You trailed off.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Just what?”

You fidgeted with the hair on his chest.

“I dunno, I just feel like you’re way out of my league. You’re incredibly handsome and I’m… me.”

He gave a chuckle.

“I’m sorry, but that’s the stupidest goddam thing I’ve ever heard, and that says a lot because we live with Wade. Babygirl, do you not see how fuckin’ gorgeous you are?”

You felt your cheeks turn pink.

“You think so?”

He kissed the top of your head.

“Of course I do, been dreaming of this since I met you. Not gonna lie, wanting you as badly as I did when you were too nervous to even talk to me was kinda torture. There was a few times you almost walked in on me the same way I did with you.”

“O- oh.”

“Yeah, it’s uh… it’s been a while since someone’s made me feel like this. When you live in a world where everyone hates you there isn’t much opportunity for even just casual fucking.”

You looked up at him.

“Sounds lonely.” You said softly.

Logan kissed your forehead.

“Doesn’t matter now that you’re finally talking to me.”

“If you’re referring to what we just did, you’ve got a weird idea of what talking is.”

“Yeah? Then how about we continue our conversation?” He said, turning you over onto your back and kissing his way down your body.

“Very smooth, Logan.”

[kateschi]

in the stillness

synopsis: after an injury leaves you in the hospital, your husband stays by your side and watches over you, silent for a moment.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: him saying 'my wife' does things to me tbh

the steady beeping of machines fills the quiet hospital room, but katsuki can’t hear anything except the pounding of his own heart.

his eyes stay locked on you, lying still in the bed, wrapped in bandages that make his gut twist every time he looks at them.

he’s sitting beside you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, jaw clenched like he’s fighting back the urge to scream.

there’s a storm brewing behind his red eyes, and you can feel it—see it in the way his shoulders are tense, in how his leg hasn’t stopped bouncing since he got here.

“you can go home, y’know,” you murmur with a weak smile. “you don’t have to stay.”

his eyes snap to yours, his scowl deepening. “absolutely not,” he growls. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. you think I’m leavin’ you like this?”

you chuckle softly, even though it hurts a little to laugh. “I’m fine, katsuki. it’s just a few bruises. you’ve seen worse.”

“doesn’t matter,” he snaps, but there’s a roughness in his voice, something he’s trying to bury beneath the anger. “it doesn’t mean I’m leavin’. I should've been there faster. you wouldn’t be in this damn bed if I had been.”

you frown at his words, knowing exactly where his mind is going. “katsuki, it wasn’t your fault. I’m a hero too, remember? I know the risks.”

he scoffs, looking away from you, his hands tightening into fists on his knees. “don’t give me that crap. I’m supposed to have your back, and I didn’t. I was too slow.”

his voice wavers for a split second, and you see the guilt eating him alive.

“hey,” you say softly, reaching out to grab his hand. he flinches at the contact, not because he doesn’t want it, but because it’s you—hurt, reaching out to comfort him when it should be the other way around.

“I’m fine, katsuki,” you repeat, squeezing his hand gently. “you got there. that’s what matters.”

his gaze locks onto yours, fierce and frustrated. “no, what matters is that you wouldn’t be here if I’d been quicker. I shoulda seen it comin’. should've—”

you shake your head, cutting him off. “stop. you’re beating yourself up over something you couldn’t control.”

“that’s bullshit,” he snaps, standing up abruptly, pacing in the small space between the bed and the wall. his hands run through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. “I wasn’t fast enough. you could’ve died, because of me being too slow.”

the words hang heavy in the air, and you can see how much they’re weighing on him, tearing at him. this is katsuki at his rawest—angry not because of anyone else, but at himself.

he’s always been his harshest critic, and now, seeing you hurt, he’s taking all that anger out on himself.

you sit up a little, despite the dull ache that runs through your body. “but I didn’t, katsuki. I’m right here. you saved me.”

he stops pacing, standing still, his back to you. his shoulders are tense, and you can hear him take a deep breath, trying to reign in the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him.

when he finally turns around, his face is a mixture of anger and vulnerability—two emotions he’s never been good at handling.

“damn it,” he mutters, stalking back toward you. he sits on the edge of the bed this time, closer than before, and his hand finds yours again, this time holding on a little tighter.

“you don’t get it, y/n. I can’t—” his voice falters, and for a second, you see something crack in his usual tough demeanor.

“I can’t just sit here and act like it’s no big deal,” he says quietly. “seein’ you like that… I’m supposed to be stronger. supposed to be the one protectin’ you, and I couldn’t even do that right.”

your heart aches at how hard he’s being on himself, but you know this is how katsuki is. he carries the weight of responsibility like it’s his personal burden to bear, and any sign of failure hits him harder than it should.

you squeeze his hand, drawing his attention back to you. “you didn’t fail, katsuki. you got there. you stopped it before it got worse. that’s all I need.”

he doesn’t respond for a moment, just stares down at your intertwined hands, his thumb running over your knuckles absentmindedly. there’s a long silence before he speaks again, this time softer, more controlled.

“you’re my wife,” he mutters, almost like he’s reminding himself of it. “I’m supposed to keep you safe. you don’t get to get hurt like this.”

you smile, tugging lightly on his hand to bring him closer. “and I’m supposed to protect you too. we’re in this together, remember?”

he huffs, clearly still not happy with himself, but the tension in his shoulders eases just a little. “yeah, yeah,” he mutters, leaning back in his chair again.

but his hand never leaves yours, gripping it tightly like he’s afraid to let go.

“you’re not gettin’ rid of me,” he says after a long pause, his voice a little lighter now, though the worry is still there, lingering under the surface. “I’m stayin’ here until they force me out. and don’t even think about tryin’ to convince me otherwise.”

you laugh softly, the sound easing some of the heaviness in the room. “wouldn’t dream of it.”

for a moment, neither of you says anything, just sitting there in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

you can feel the intensity of his gaze, the way he’s still watching you like he’s waiting for something to go wrong, but you know he’ll calm down eventually.

he’s stubborn, protective, and always pushing himself harder than anyone else. but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

“rest, will ya?” he mutters after a while, his voice softer now. “I’ll be right here.”

you nod, letting your eyes close as you feel the exhaustion start to catch up to you. his hand is still holding yours, warm and solid, a constant reminder that he’s there, just like always.

you can barely catch him raising your hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to it.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[latenightdaydreams]

First time Konig and reader have sex. But size kink😩😩😩😩 Reader is petite

https://twitter.com/kinulta/status/1765084505810117118?t=HH9h6rCAbx7MwYLdqcOorQ&s=19

I imagine reader is gonna be like this and Konig fucks us til we pass out

As a shorty, I live for size kink König🙏🏽

König x Petite!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, p in v, size difference, size kink, petite reader

1.6k word count

.

.

Being 6 '10, König usually dates women around 5’8- and up. They’re beautiful of course, but he has always wondered what it would be like to be with a tiny woman. Most of the interactions he’s had with small women have scared him; they’re incredibly fierce, and he is so awkward he freezes around them. Like an elephant with a mouse, he can’t explain it.

Then he meets you. On a random grocery shopping trip. He had to look all the way down to see your eyes, the top of your head reaching just below his chest. Instantly he became nervous, not knowing how to act. He wanted to make himself seem smaller and less intimidating since that’s all he is ever viewed as and you were so tiny.

Yet, you weren’t scared of him. You looked him right in the eyes and demanded he help you grab something from the top shelf, in a kind way of course.

“You have to help me; I can’t jump high enough.” You laughed and the sound gave König butterflies.

“Ja, sure, lead the way.” He was willing to follow you anywhere.

Two months later and you both have decided to make things official. He treats you like you’re made of glass, scared to even cuddle while sleeping because what if he rolls over on top of you? Other than oral sex and fingering, you both haven’t gone all the way yet. He is terrified his body weight will crush you or he will be too rough with your “delicate” body.

He can’t lie, he has always wondered what sex would be like with someone tiny, like 4’11-5’4, and now he has you. He’s watched a lot of porn of a tall big dick man absolutely dominating the smaller woman, but he never thought he’d be here. Seeing you in front of him makes him question the logistics of it all.

 König stands before you as you lie naked on the bed. He looks at your body before shifting his gaze down and rolling the condom down his length. A wave of nervousness rushes over him, mixed with excitement as he sees your hand go between your legs and begin to rub your pussy. His eyes slowly trail up your body to meet your eyes again.

“Are you sure you are ready?”

“Absolutely.” You’ve been begging for weeks; you aren’t going to back down now.

König smirks and walks to you, standing at the edge of the bed, looking at how your fingers circle your clit.

“How should we…start?”

“How you would with anyone.” You begin to laugh.

König blushes and lays on the bed beside you, “Come here.”

You smile and crawl over to him, straddling his hips. His eyes are drawn to your small body over his, keeping his hands to the side so as to not hurt you. He watches as you grab his cock and slowly lower yourself down on to him. König lets out a soft moan and grabs the sheets, refraining from grabbing you and pushing you down more.

“Fuck…” König drops his head back and closes his eyes.

At first you slowly bounce yourself on him, letting yourself get adjusted to his size. Watching him as he reacts to feeling his thick cock be swallowed whole by your tight little cunt. You put your hands behind you on his thighs as you move your legs so your feet are flat on the bed.

Slowly his hips begin to thrust up into you, he opens his eyes and leans his head forward to look down at you. Your breasts bouncing as your eyebrows are pinched from the pleasure, your eyes meet. He can’t help but to reach out and rest one hand on your breast and the other on your hip. He grips you tightly and begins to assist in your bouncing, making you speed up.

“Fucking ride that cock…” He lightly slaps your ass.

Both of your moans fill the room as you begin to slam down hard on him. He begins to feel himself want to fuck you harder, it scares him so he holds you still.

“Wait,” He is breathing heavily, “I- wait.”

“Are you about to cum?”

“No, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Jesus, König, you won’t!”

“Lay on your side.” He ignores your attitude and watches as you pull yourself up from his cock, it falls forward onto his stomach. The condom covered in your creamy white arousal. He wishes he could go in raw.

You lay on your side and look over your shoulder as he adjusts his big body behind yours. He gets close to you, grasping his cock as he rubs it along your wet folds. He pushes his hips forward slightly, feeling his tip slip in. He lifts your ass cheek up with his hand to push in easier, looking down and watching your pretty lips stretch to accommodate him. He places his huge hand on your waist, and begins to buck forward into your cunt lightly.

Your eyes still locked onto his as he fucks you, he leans in and kisses your lips softly before moaning and resting his head back on the pillow. You begin to push back into him every time he thrust in. The supple flesh of your ass bouncing with every hit.

“Please fuck me.” You beg, the arm you’re resting on outstretched and holding on to the blanket.

“Ja.” He moves his hand from your waist to spank your ass lightly again. His hand goes back as he begins to pick up his pace.

“Oh my god your cock feels so good in my tight little pussy.” You moan out in a pathetic voice.

“Mhm.” Your dirty talk is breaking him down as all he can think of is making you scream his name.

He closes his eyes again and tries to focus as your pussy squeezes him. He feels your hand fall on his face gently and caress his check, sending a chill down his spine.

“Please fuck me harder.”

He opens his eyes and looks at the side of your face as your head is turned. His eyes travel down your body and shit…he can’t hold back anymore.

“You want me to fuck you harder?”

“Yes!”

“Beg.” He growls.

“Please, please pound my pussy.” The new tone in his voice is something you’ve never heard from him before, and it excites you.

König lets out a loud groan as he holds your waist so tightly, he leaves red marks as he begins to slam his cock inside you repeatedly. You’re not able to catch your breath as the sound of flesh hitting flesh and your wet cunt is all that can be heard. Finally a loud moan escapes your lips and you move your hand from his face to his arm and hold it.

“Oh- fuck! König!”

“Scream my fucking name.”

He rams his cock into you so hard you feel a slight bit of pain, but you know if you say something he will never do it again so you stay silent.

“König!” Your nails dig into his arm, his hand holds you tighter. He can feel your pussy begin to squeeze his cock as you begin to babble as if you forgot how to speak.

“Just like that, cum on my cock.”

You move your hand from his arm and twist your upper half more to look at him. His blue eyes gazing down at you with a primal lust.  Moving his hand from your waist, he grasps your neck and holds lightly. Your bodies covered in sweat; he doesn’t stop relentlessly pounding his sensitive cock into you.

Slowly you feel yourself begin to see that euphoric build up again, your vision going double as you feel light headed.

“God- König.” You manage to mumble out as your body begins to shake.

König moves his hand from your neck to lift your leg, shifting his body to be now on top of yours as you stay on your side. With your leg on his shoulder and his body straddling your leg, he is able to shove his cock in even deeper.

“I want to feel you raw Liebling.” He moans kissing your leg as he pushes in deep and pulls out slowly.

In a dick daze you nod your head, agreeing to no condom. Quickly, König pulls out and yanks the tip of the condom, tossing it off the bed. Slowly he begins to push his cock back inside. The textured feeling of your warm gummy walls welcoming his cock was too much. Putting his fist into the mattress, he begins to roll his hips harshly fucking you. You moan out in a scream holding on to his arm. He gives you no time to even catch your breath. König watches your eyes roll back into your head as your body goes limp, but moans still leaving your lips.

“Don’t tap out on my now Liebling, I’m not done.”

He sits up and drags your hips closer to him, wrapping his arms around your leg and not letting up on his pace. König doesn’t stop until you stop moaning. Breathing heavy, he puts your leg down and leans over you.

“Schatz?” He grabs your jaw and turns you to face him. You don’t reply.

He feels for a pulse, you’re still alive. He pulls out and runs to get a washcloth and runs it under cold water, rushing back to you. He places it on your head and caresses your face, gently kissing you.

“I knew I was too rough…” He whispers to himself.

A cocky little grin on his lips because he fucked you so hard you passed out. He will forever tell this story.

[rafescvntyclubgf]

+18

𝓔𝔁 𝓑𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓝𝓗𝓛!𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓲𝓼…

a ruthless enforcer who’s not afraid to get into a fight. Rafe’s an enigma. He only lets his guard down for a handful of people. To everyone else, he’s intimidating and cold

dressed in athleisure always, unless it is date night or game day. Cozy joggers, sweatshirts, v-neck t-shirts, and backward hats. He takes off his gold rings for games, but he never takes off his signature gold chain.

particular about his hair. He has a modern mullet with a longer fringe. He's always perfectly “undone,” removing his helmet and brushing his sweaty bangs off his pretty, chiseled face.

awful at dealing with his emotions. He has a temper—one that lands him in the penalty box often. It’s always a risk mic’ing him up because the NHL never knows what he’ll say.

an expert shit talker, chirping constantly. He loves getting in his opponent's head in any way, whether verbal or physical.

strong. Between ice time and workout, he's ridiculously cut. Thick forearms, massive biceps, deep abs and v-lines, and muscular thighs. Sometimes, he catches himself being too rough, but you swear you can take it.

so good at texting. He never fails to give you the butterflies when he’s out of town— sending you pics and texts just to let you know he's thinking about you.

a sweet talker. His favorite pet names are Baby, Princess, and Pretty; always laced in that deep southern drawl.

touchy. His hands are always on you: grabbing your hips, wrapping his big arms around you to give you a hug

posessive... He loves telling you you're his and hearing you say it.

an ace at the game. He’s known for being rough and tumble but has good hands and outstanding stats.

really, really good with his hands in more ways than one. His big hands can make you a wet mess in record time.

rich, and he loves spoiling you.

unreal in bed and his stamina is insane.

a sharp dresser. Rafe always shows up on gameday with a new designer suit. His favorite is an all-black Gucci suit.

soft around you. He's still rough around the edges, but he can't stay mad at you for anything, and you'd always get your way even on the little things, so much so that you'd tease him for it, which made him melt because “who the hell else teases him?”

always hurt. Walking around with a busted lip or a shiner.

a playboy - he was a fuckin’ dog before he met you, and those old habits were hard to break

always in his head. You're the one that got away, and he thinks about it often.

protective as hell. He checks on your socials nightly, making sure you’re okay

a jealous fuck. He’ll sabotage anyone who even looks your way without a second thought

thoughtful. He sends you your favorite flowers and that designer purse you had your eye on when you were together, waiting by his phone to see if you’ll give him anything even just a “thank you, Rafe” and he’d be more than satisfied

observant. Especially when it comes to you… He remembers everything: your coffee order, from the drinks the two of you would grab from your favorite cafe before the game. It's a little pregame ritual that he let you be a part of. He remembers your favorite songs, which is also part of his pregame routine. He loved going for a drive, listening to music, and hearing you sing along with your favorite songs, most of which he didn't know and didn't care to know; he just liked hearing your voice. He also remembers the smell of your signature perfume, the sweet elixir stamped into his memory. One of his college sweatshirts you wore the last night you were together is folded up in his drawer, and it still smells like you.

hopeful. He always sets a ticket aside for you just in case he runs into you before the game and you agree to come.

always looking around for you. At your favorite coffee shop before the game or places, he knows you’ll love, hoping to “run into you.”

reckless with his cash. Rafe went on a spending spree since cocaine wasn't an option: cars, watches, jewelry, trips, anything and everything to get his mind off you.

aggressive on the ice. Especially after your breakup, known for playing dirty. Samming bodies against the glass, throwing gloves for next to nothing, breaking sticks to get out his last bits of aggression before crashing down on the bench, burying his head in his gloves, only to go back out on the ice and crash out again.

humbled by his co-captain. He’s the only one who knows how much Rafe was affected by the breakup. He lets him know he needs to figure his shit out because it’s hurting his game and the team.

lonely. He dreads post-game losses because you were his anchor, someone who could ground him— focused more on how he was feeling versus the “game-talk” he gets from everyone else. At first, he hated it, but now he craves it, trying to remember those conversations and the sweet words you said on his drive home

really lonely… He hasn't been with anyone since and doesn't want to which is unheard of for him.

determined to win you back, which means that he’ll have to talk about all the shit he’s feeling, whichnhe knows is for the best. He’s trying to be the man that he knows you deserve.

[enchantedflameandflower]

billy teaching his girl how to smoke a cig would be so attractive

I feel like maybe they would go out to a bar or something and in like a tipsy confession she says “i’ve never smoked” or something like that ”idk how to smoke properly im always coughing its so embarrassing blah blah blah”

Need my man to guide me through it

Billy x you! Nsfw 18+ only for smoking, smut, piv, creampie, hint of exhibitionism

Thank you SO MUCH for this ask anon! Once I got the idea for the vibe it just took off. Hope you all enjoy!

~

It’s late, almost midnight, and you’re sitting up on the roof of your apartment building with Butcher and a cold bottle of beer each. The air is a little chilly but not bad and no one else seems to ever come up here so it’s nice. You’d met Butcher at the bar but it had been crowded and annoying so you’d invited him back to your place. 

The building seems to be mostly made up of elderly people but you love it. They’re kind and quiet and you love being able to help them when they need. The random baked goods you receive from time to time don’t hurt either. There’s one old lady specifically that Billy has charmed completely. He’s definitely got her wrapped around his little finger, that one. 

And you enjoy the quiet at night. You’re sitting cross-legged on a sort of concrete platform on top of the roof that’s at the perfect height. Billy is sitting next to you, his big booted feet planted on the ground of the roof.

You can’t help glancing over at him, and you know affection is shining in your eyes but you can’t help it and you don’t care. You’d started this sort of friends with benefits casual thing a couple months ago but you were falling for him hard and you knew it. Yeah, he was rough around the edges, really rough, but there was so much more to him and you had never cared what anyone else thought. 

And damn if he wasn’t the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. Tall, dark and brooding as fuck. 

“I thought you quit,” you murmur, nodding toward the cigarette he’s puffing lazily next to you. 

He smirks. “I did. Don’t know what ‘cher talkin’ ‘bout.” He takes another drag then holds it out toward you.

You pause for a second but then you take it between your fingers. “I always feel like I’m not doing it right…” you half joke. “And then I just cough.”

Billy looks at you. “All this time on planet ‘earf and ya don’t know how to smoke proper? It ain’t that hard, love…” He grins mischievously. “Just wrap those pretty lips ‘round and suck. But slowly, not too much. An’ let it out slow like, too.”

You nod, pursing your lips around the cigarette but Billy scoots closer immediately. 

“Not so tight, love, relax. Little more slack…ya know, like how ya move your lips when me cock’s slidin’ in.”

You’re immediately pulling the cigarette out of your mouth as your cheeks flush. “Butcher!” 

He just grins and inches back on the platform before he tugs on your wrist, pulling you to sit in his lap and guiding your hand back up. “Try again.”

You try not to think about how good his hard thighs feel beneath you and put the end of the cigarette up to your lips but let it rest there between the two instead of gripping it. You take a slow inhale in, and then slowly blow it out again, watching as the swirl of white smoke drifts gently away. 

Butcher squeezes your hip. “There ya are, doll, see?” he grins, his dimple showing and you know he’s thinking his metaphor is what made all the difference.

“You’re a menace,” you murmur, handing the cigarette back to him. 

Butcher takes a long drag, then after a moment lets go. The thick smoke curls out from his full lips and between the both of you as he exhales. There’s something so fucking sexy about the way he does it and the glimmer in his eyes as he catches you looking at him. He continues to exhale, the smoke kissing your mouth. You breathe it in, swearing you can taste him on it. 

Holding the cigarette up to your mouth again, Butcher watches as you pull lightly and his dark hazel eyes go even darker with heat.

The look makes you squirm in his lap and his big hand clenches your waist. “Ya keep that up and I’m gonna end up takin’ ya right here on this concrete,” he threatens - promises? - a low husk to his voice now. 

Yeah…the thought of that and his gruff tone make you wet for him immediately. It’s been a couple weeks since the last time you slept together and suddenly now you need him so much it hurts. 

He must be able to tell by the look on your face because the corner of his mouth lifts in a wicked smirk. “Ya like that idea, dontcha doll?” 

“Maybe…” you murmur and he tsks at you. He gives you the cigarette and you hold it up to your mouth again as his hand slips down between your thighs. Your leggings and your thin underwear do next to nothing to shield your already throbbing clit from his rough fingers.

He presses in firmly, rubbing his fingertips in a little circle, and his smile widens. “I can already tell, hot and slick for me, aren’t ya.”

Two can play this game, you think. Leaning forward, you bite his full lower lip and he growls, sliding his hand in your hair and tugging you close to capture your mouth fully with his. He tastes like cigarettes and beer and something uniquely him, masculine and rich.  

His tongue slides over yours, hot and possessive and it turns your insides to jelly, somehow making you want him even more when you thought you were already at the max. You moan into his kiss as his tongue strokes into your mouth. The sensation makes you shiver, your center throbbing for him, clenching around nothing. How you wish he was already buried inside you. Butcher holds you closer against him and only breaks the kiss when you push at his chest, gasping softly for air. 

His eyes are dark with need and his gaze is intense. His eyes flick to your lips and you know they must be swollen and pink from his kiss. Your breath is still coming in little pants but you panic a little under his steady stare.

“What?” you ask, a little scared of the answer, but the look in his eyes is making you think crazy stupid things that couldn’t possibly be real, you had to be dreaming…

“Ya don’t even know how bloody gorgeous you are, do ya?” he husks. 

“I - ” you swallow, your muddled brain trying to make sense of what he was saying. Fuck. His hand is still pressed between your thighs and you groan as he shifts you closer. The motion presses his thick knuckle right against your cunt.

“Fuck Billy…need you, please…” you gasp, wriggling against his hand, your eyes fluttering closed.

You don’t want to wait to go back downstairs, you don’t want to wait another second, you want him right here, right now out in the open air, all of his teasing way too much to bear. You’ll beg for it if you have to.

But you don’t. 

Billy is moving the instant you stop speaking. He lets go of you to strip his battered old coat off and you squeak, throwing your arms around his neck, the cigarette still between your fingers, to keep from getting dumped right off his lap.

He tosses his coat on the cement next to you then reaches down to pull your shoes off, before standing and flipping you over to lay you down across his coat. 

“Such a gentleman,” you tease, smiling up at him from your prone position. The cement is still cold and hard beneath you and his coat, but you don’t care and you know you’ll appreciate the lack of cement burn in the morning. 

“Oi, when am I not?” he grins devilishly  and before you can answer he’s pulling your leggings down your long legs, and everything else with them, stripping you bare from the waist down.

He catches your gaze, then his big hand slides from your hip to your side, pushing your shirt up. He bends down to nip and bite at your stomach then drags his mouth over your skin, beard tickling and rubbing, until he reaches your breasts. You wiggle and arch to help him push your shirt and bra up the rest of the way under your arms until you’re naked from your tits down, spread out for him on the cement platform in the night air.

“You’re a fuckin’ sight, ain’t ya,” he rumbles, his eyes taking their fill of you as his rough hands smooth over your body and the chilled air licks at all your naked skin. “Think anyone can see?” He glances up to the right of you, at a taller building next to this one that clearly has lights in some of the windows. 

You whimper, squirming and closing your eyes. “Oh god…” you breathe. 

“Splayed out naked, out in the open here and practically beggin’ for me,” he hums.

“Billy,” you gasp. You aren’t sure if you want to just hurry up and get it over with or if you’re actually going to explode with pent up lust but either way you need him to fuck you now.

Billy seems to acquiesce and he palms your breast, tugging at your tight nipple with one hand while the other undoes his buckle and the button of his jeans. 

He takes the cigarette out of your hand and puts it back in his mouth, holding it with his teeth and taking another long puff as he unzips his jeans, pushing them just low enough on his hips so his thick cock can spring free. He flicks the cigarette aside on the cement then uses both hands to tug on your hips, pulling you to the edge. 

“Fuck…Billy,” you groan as he slots his swollen length against your slick cunt and presses your thighs further part then starts to push in. 

“Don’t need to tell me twice…” he rumbles. 

You stretch for him as he slides inside you, but he’s so big and you have to take a breath to relax enough to take him all the way. 

“So fuckin’ tight,” he groans in a gruff voice, and he shifts to slip his thumb over your clit to help ease his way inside. 

The moment the tip of his thumb circles the slick, tight bud, pleasure bursts inside of you and he thrusts all the way in, filling you up. 

It’s so good. You cry out loud, then quickly lift your hand to cover your mouth and muffle the sound but Billy grabs your wrist, pulling your arm away. “N‘uh…need to hear ya, love. Need to know how much you need my cock…”

“Everyone will…hear…” you whimper as he thrusts inside you again. 

“Won’t know it’s you, doll. Let them listen. Let them hear how good my cock makes you feel…”

All you can do is moan as he thrusts again and then again, his fingers teasing at your stiff nipple and then your clit again, driving you mad, always knowing where to go next. But you need more, you need all of him. 

“Harder…please…Billy…” you moan, clenching around his cock as he buries it deep, gripping the edges of his coat with your fingers. 

“Tha’s my good girl,” Butcher growls, thrusting harder and picking up his speed, hitting that perfect spot inside of you over and over.

You’re crying out with each deep thrust now and you don’t care who hears. When you wrap your legs around his hips, he leans down and presses against you, catching your shoulders and holding on as he groans against the curve of your neck. You can feel the vibration from his chest just as he thrusts, hitting every nerve ending on the way. It makes you cry out loud again, desperate and wanton. The sound echoes off the brick walls, making you blush harder as the pleasure of it zings straight to your clit. Fuck why does it turn you on even more…and it’s so annoying how quiet he can be even when he’s making you crazy. 

After another moment though, all thought leaves your mind and all you know is how fucking good Billy feels as you balance on the knife edge of bliss. The base of his cock pushes right against your clit as he gives one last hard thrust and then starts to pulse deep inside of you. It’s more than enough to make you come too. You’re crying out his name before you can stop yourself in choked moans and gasps that can definitely be heard in the next building as your body shudders in overwhelming pleasure.

Butcher slumps against you as he finishes emptying himself in your body and you curl your arms around his neck, your cunt still fluttering around him as the waves of pleasure from your climax only slowly start to abate.

The cigarette lays forgotten going cold beside you as he finally pushes himself up and tucks his cock away. You can still feel his come leaking out of you, mixed with yours, warm and sticky on your thighs but you can’t even find the energy to cover yourself.

When he starts to slide your clothes back on for you, you make a little noise, tiredly protesting at the mess still between your legs, but he hums and shakes his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in that smirk he has with a glint in his hazel eyes. “Have to wait ‘til we get back down to your flat, love. You like it, dontcha? Feelin’ what ya made me do?” he adds, his voice still gruff and low with sex. 

You make a sound of resignation but it is kind of hot, his small possessive way of marking and claiming you. You’re his.

When he has your bottom half dressed again, he grabs your hand and tugs you up, helping you pull your bra and shirt back in to place. You feel completely boneless and blissed out, and you quirk your lips in a half smile as you look up at him. “Fuck Billy…” you whisper. 

He chuckles softly and pulls you close against his broad chest in a hug, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get ya back inside and practice some more with that pretty mouth o’ yours, love, eh? Need ya too much.”

~*~*~ Thanks again anon, hope you like! Also thanks to @butchersdarkbird for letting me chat about it, @shirley-girly for giving me the perfect idea for a line for Billy on her reblog of a previous post and @dwinchesterspie1967 for the idea of including extra of his devilish smirk ❤️

@jynx15 @kus-babygirl @weallhaveadestiny @karlurbanism

@dustie-faerie @violent-darkness @bohemianblasphemy

karl urban masterlist

[purifiedclitoris69]

Don’t Hide

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x exhydra!reader

Slight angst and fluff/comfort

Summary: After a rough mission, you slip back into what your life use to be, what you were trained to do. Hiding away and spiraling Natasha’s there to comfort you.

The mission had gone sideways, but you’d survived worse. A nasty cut on your side and a few bruises wouldn’t stop you now. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as you carefully locked the bathroom door behind you. The adrenaline was still coursing through your veins, the whispers of Hydra training clawing at the back of your mind.

You’d been sharing this bathroom..a room, with Natasha for just a few months, the two of you navigating the delicate balance of a new relationship. It wasn’t easy—two broken people trying to make sense of something good for once—but you made it work. At least, most days. But tonight was different. You didn’t want her to see you like this.

You sat on the edge of the tub, carefully pressing a towel to the cut on your side, watching the blood seep through. Your hands shook, but you forced yourself to focus. Breathe. Patch it up and move on. That’s what they taught you. Never show weakness. Never ask for help.

In the quiet of the bathroom, the echoes of Hydra training were louder than usual. You weren’t *here*—you were back in those sterile rooms, under harsh lights, voices barking commands. You tried to shake it off, but the memories gripped you tighter. Your throat closed up, and suddenly, you couldn’t find your voice. The blood spilling out and covering your hands wasn’t your own anymore, it was that of your victims. The flashes of the cruel deaths you inflicted. The dozens of assassinations, slaughters.

Outside, Natasha had just returned from her own mission, tired but relieved to be back. She was looking forward to unwinding with you, maybe sharing quiet moments in the space you now called yours. But the minute she stepped into your shared room, she knew something was wrong.

The faint scent of blood hit her nose, and her eyes darted toward the small droplets leading to the bathroom. Her heart sank. You were hurt. Worse, you were hiding it from her.

She crossed the room swiftly, her own exhaustion forgotten. When she reached the bathroom door, she knocked, a firm but controlled sound. "Y/N?" Her voice was steady, though there was a hint of concern. "Can you open the door?"

You froze, your hands trembling more now. You didn’t want her to see this, to see you like this. Weak. Silent. You were meant to be a ruthless killer, the perfect soldier. You tried to stand, to clean up the blood before she could come in, but your knees buckled under the pressure.

"Y/N," Natasha continued, a slight edge and frustration creeping into her tone. "What happened out there, let me in.”

Your mind raced, Hydra’s voice overlapping with hers. Don’t let anyone in. Turn it off. Don’t show any vulnerability, any emotion, or you will be punished. You gritted your teeth, the walls around you closing in. Your breath hitched, and suddenly you couldn’t respond. The words were there, but they wouldn’t come.

Natasha, on the other side of the door, was getting worried. The silence on the other side was too familiar—the kind of silence born out of fear or pain. She knocked again, a little louder this time. "Y/N, open the door, right now, I’m serious. I need to see if you’re okay."

She wasn’t yelling, not really, but the firmness in her voice felt like too much. Like an order. Your chest tightened, and the panic swelled, pushing you deeper into the memories. The room blurred as your pulse raced. You messed up this mission, you didn’t follow orders, you should expect repercussions. All you could hear now were the commands from long ago: “stay quiet, fix it yourself, don’t be a liability.”

When Natasha heard the shallow, unsteady breaths through the door, she knew. This wasn’t just about the injury. She knew that sound—it was the sound of you slipping into something darker, something that haunted both of you. Her own frustration faded, replaced by the urgent need to help you.

She carefully jimmied the lock, opening the door slowly, not wanting to startle you. And when she saw you, sitting on the bathtub, bloodied and shaking, her heart broke. You were trying so hard to patch yourself up, but it was clear you were far from okay. The familiar signs of an episode setting in—shaky hands, heavy breathing, racing heart, visions of the past blending with the present.

Natasha crouched in front of you, her movements deliberate, not touching you but close enough for you to feel her presence. Her voice softened, calm but insistent. "Hey, it’s me. You don’t have to do this alone. You’re not back there. You’re here, with me."

Her words cut through the fog, but barely. Your hands were shaking too hard now, and the towel you were using to stop the bleeding slipped from your grip. Tears welled in your eyes, as you clenched your jaw hard enough to crack teeth, willing yourself to keep them at bay. You tried to tell her you were fine, but your voice wouldn’t cooperate. The training, the trauma—it was all rushing back too fast.

Natasha sighed softly, guilt tugging at her for being stern earlier. "I’m sorry I got loud. I just… I needed to know you were okay."

You blinked, trying to hold back the tears, but Natasha saw them anyway. Her gaze softened even more, the concern etched into her face. She moved slowly, standing and carefully taking the towel from you. "Let me help, okay?"

You didn’t protest this time. The panic was still there, the memories still too close, but Natasha’s presence grounded you. She pressed the towel to your side gently, her touch reassuring, her focus entirely on you.

As she worked to clean the wound, she spoke softly, not to ask questions or pry, but just to remind you she was there. "I know you’re used to handling things on your own. But we’re a team now. You don’t have to hide this from me." She softly cleaned the cuts in your face too, applying bandages and ointments.

Her words made something inside you shift, a tiny crack in the armor you’d built. You nodded, your breath still shaky but steadier now. The room felt a little less suffocating with her by your side.

When she finished patching you up, Natasha finally met your gaze, cupping your face "We’ll figure this out together, okay?"

You nodded subtly, eyes still distant, you mumbled something inaudible.

she kissed the top of your head and held you against herself, “I love you.” she whispered so softly.

“I love you too, pretty girl,” you answered against her, bring your arms to wrap around her waist and hold her ever so gently.

The tension in your body begins to ease as she softly runs her fingers through your hair, her touch grounding you. She doesn’t push, doesn’t ask you to talk, just sits with you, her presence a quiet reassurance.

Her voice is low and soothing as she hums softly, her hand tracing calming circles on your scalp. Slowly, the chaos in your mind begins to fade, the safety of her touch allowing you to breathe a little easier. She stays like that, holding you through the storm, a silent promise that you’re not alone.

For the first time that night, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you didn’t have to face this battle alone.

[benjinotes]

𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 (𝐩𝐭.𝟐) - benjicot blackwood (fancast)

summary: a few months after you and Benjicot start dating, your mom invites him to a family dinner.

pairing: benjicot blackwood x fem reader

warnings: whipped benji, over protective dad and older brother, sweet rhaenyra, modern au, smut, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, heavy make out, rough sex (?), sweet but not innocent reader […]

n/a: reader is rhaenyra and harwin's daughter, her last name is strong, i don't know anything about american football

wc: 4.3K

don’t translate without my permission!

As he slammed the car door shut with a resounding thud, Benjicot ran a trembling hand through his hair, his nerves on edge. He took a deep breath for what felt like the thousandth time, trying to steady his racing heart, and clenched his fists tightly in a futile attempt to stop them from shaking any further.

To say he was nervous about tonight was an understatement—in fact, he was terrified, and knowing that this was a necessary step in his relationship with you, he did everything he could to remain calmer, which clearly wasn't working.

Every step he took felt calculated, almost as if he were on the field about to execute a crucial strategy. Perhaps it was a desperate attempt to hold on to the last vestiges of confidence he had left, remembering how on the field that confidence enveloped him like a comforting embrace.

There, however, he felt as if he would be strangled at any moment. The fear of disappointing your family at that dinner consumed him, but what distressed him even more was the possibility of disappointing you.

Benji knew that disappointing you would be one of the hardest things someone could do, since you were so sweet that you almost never held a grudge, no matter how much someone hurt you. But even so, he didn’t want to risk it happening.

You were the person who had supported him the most in recent months, and he knew that putting up with him was not an easy task—quite the opposite. That’s why he was absolutely sure that you were his most dedicated admirer, just as he was also your number one fan.

So, maybe that’s why he was so determined to put aside his explosive and often inappropriate behavior during the few hours the dinner would last. What seemed like an impossible challenge to many was, for him, exactly the opposite. Since you both started dating, he had become much calmer and more focused, which clearly shocked everyone around you.

However, for Benji, that was normal; after all, you were capable of bringing out the best version of anyone around you, and you made everything that was once an effort in Benji’s life become something natural and easy, almost as if he were floating in the relationship in a gentle and relaxing manner.

Your constant care and support not only smoothed his rough edges but also showed him a new way to live and love. And damn, he loved you so much it hurts.

So, maybe that’s why he was so willing to repay everything you had done for him. He wanted to make sure that this night was special, demonstrating how much you meant to him. And if that meant he had to face your parents and siblings, he was willing to do it a million times.

Yet, Benjicot couldn't shake the feeling of goosebumps that ran through his body when his finger touched the doorbell of your family's house, and he felt his palms sweat and anxiety washes over him as he heard the footsteps approaching from the inside. For a brief moment, it seemed like the sky above him was closing in a little more, and the sound of the doorknob turning and the creaking of the door as it opened only intensified his nervousness.

When the door opened, Benji swallowed hard, feeling anxiety rush through his veins, but as soon as he saw your pretty figure in front of the large doors, his heart skipped a beat with relief, and a smirk appeared on his face for a moment. Forgetting how sweaty his hands were, his eyes completely focused on you like always.

“You're a little early, don't you think?” You smiled in his direction as soon as you opened the front door, and when he noticed the slippers on your feet, he let out a short laugh, looking attentively behind you before placing his hands on your waist.

You raised an eyebrow at the gesture, but Benji could see the sweetness in your eyes despite the playful attitude.

"Well, I always like to come early for important occasions, sweetheart." He said with a light laugh, as his hands gently caressed your waist. Your hands instinctively moved to his arms, massaging them gently as you looked up at him with a loving smile.

“Besides.” He added in a tender tone, “I missed you.” He confessed in a low, but sincere voice and was met with your laughter, which seemed to dissolve the remaining anxiety he had. This only made his smile widen, genuinely happy to hear you laugh again.

“Did you miss me?” You asked with a giggle, bringing your body dangerously close to Benji's. His mischievous smile widened, almost making him forget where he was and why he was there. “We were together just a few hours ago.” you continued, your voice tinged with amusement, smiling again and letting your fingers lightly squeeze his arms. A light blush colored your cheeks as you remembered the intimate moment you two shared earlier that afternoon.

He looked behind you to see if anyone from your family was looking before moving a little closer to your body and tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, which made you blush, and he smiled at your reaction while humming softly, “It’s been too long.” With a soft murmur, he added. “The hours drag by when I’m away from you!” He said this in a playful tone, but the look in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t lying.

You laughed loudly again, which made the corners of his mouth rise a little more, while his eyes were still focused on you. You could feel his breath almost mixing with yours.

“You seem very confident,” you teased, the confidence you had gained over the months of your relationship present in your voice, which still had the softness that Benji loved. "Let's see if you maintain that stance when we're having dinner with my family." At that, Benji's eyes widened, remembering what he was doing there.

Benjicot swallowed hard for a moment, and the sound of laughter from inside the house made him move away from your body a little; however, he still kept his hand around your waist, unable to move without touching you.

You, on the other hand, blinked gently, growing increasingly concerned at his lack of reaction. You couldn’t recall ever seeing him so nervous before. With a tender gesture, you moved your hand to his forehead, brushing away the rebellious strands that insisted on covering his green eyes. Quickly, you lifted your feet, still clad in fluffy slippers, to place a soft kiss on his cheek, hoping to offer him some sense of comfort despite his current state.

Upon feeling the soft touch on his cheek, Benji looked at you again, which led you to give him a brief kiss on the lips, causing his heart, previously racing with nervousness, to start beating at a calmer pace. However, seeing your lips move away so quickly, he couldn't help but be slightly disappointed, and he almost forgot the way your lips had explored his body that same day.

“You don't need to be nervous.” You spoke softly. "You already know my family; this is just a simple dinner." You pointed out, and Benjicot looked at you with half-closed eyes, tilting his head gently to the side.

The truth was that Benji had already met your family casually; Jace had been friends with him since they both ended up in the same economics class at university, and although Jace liked him as a teammate and classmate, Benji felt that, despite his friend's approval, Jace wasn't very excited about the idea that he would be his future brother-in-law.

Your mother, although she had an intimidating presence, made a point of making him feel welcome and treated him with affection. However, Benji knew that any mistake he made against you could provoke her fury. Your father was another story; the man always intimidated him immensely. Dealing with a former NFL player and team coach was scary enough; now knowing that this same player was your father made the situation even more complex, especially since you were his only girl.

What comforted him most at that moment was knowing that your younger brothers liked him and that your stepfather, Daemon, would not be present at that dinner.

"You always know how to calm me down, don’t you, sweetheart?" Benji murmured softly, his voice filled with warmth. He placed a tender kiss on the top of your head and then gently lowered his hands, hoping you'd intertwine your fingers with his.

"Of course I know." You smiled in amusement, intertwining your fingers with your boyfriend's, who gave your hand a light squeeze, seeking comfort in your sweet touch.

The sound of laughter from inside the house grew louder as a reminder of the night ahead, and he could have sworn he heard little Joffrey screaming from inside, which made the corners of his mouth turn up just a little. With your hand firmly in his, he felt a wave of calm and readiness. He looked at you, his eyes showing a bit of hesitation and excitement, almost as if he were eager for the challenge.

“Let’s get this over with,” Benji said in a low whisper, and you felt your skin crawl at the tone, which made him bite the inside of his cheek. However, you ignored his nervous gesture and pulled him inside by the hand with a little more force than usual.

As you two entered, the lively atmosphere of your home enveloped you both, along with the loud voices of your brothers, who seemed to be involved in yet another fight. You and your boyfriend laughed together as you watched Luke try to hit Jace in the face with one of his slippers.

Benji looked at you with amusement as he took in the lively scene before him. Noticing that your brothers were still wrapped up in their playful argument, you cleared your throat deliberately, hoping to regain some control over the situation.

The commotion subsided slightly as everyone, including Joffrey, who had almost tripped as he ran up from the back of the house, turned their attention toward you.

“Look who’s here!” you said, raising your voice to be heard above the remaining chaos. You gently released Benji’s hand and reached down to lift little Joffrey into your arms. As soon your youngest brother saw Benji, he stuck out his tongue in a playful gesture. Benji, catching the playful mood, responded by sticking out his own tongue, a grin spreading across his face as he enjoyed the lighthearted interaction.

"Benjicot," Jace greeted in a serious tone, his voice carrying a weight that made Benji tense up. Realizing that Jace would be more of a protective big brother than a supportive friend during this dinner, Benji bit the inside of his cheek, preparing himself for the challenge ahead.

"Jacaerys," Benji greeted back, trying to match the serious tone. You let go of your younger brother and gave your older brother a look of mild reprimand, but Jace just shrugged and pointed with his chin towards the dining room.

You and Benji exchanged quick glances—his filled with a touch of nervousness, yours a mix of excitement and worry.

"Mom and Dad are already in the dining room; we were just waiting for you," Luke interrupted, noticing his older brother's posture. Benji could see that Luke was trying hard not to grimace at Jace's behavior, which almost caused the corners of Benji's mouth to lift up a little. That was exactly why Luke was his favorite.

Giving Benji a reassuring glance, you guided him—almost dragging him—toward the dining room, with your siblings trailing behind. As he entered the spacious room, he took a deep breath and felt his tension ease upon seeing your parents chatting cheerfully.

You still remembered Benji’s shocked expression when you told him that your parents were divorced but maintained a civilized relationship. It was a situation quite unfamiliar to him, but he seemed to be starting to adjust to the unique family dynamics. You think, at least.

“Goodnight,” he greeted warmly as he smoothly pulled out your chair and helped you sit down. Rhaenyra glanced over with a satisfied smile, clearly pleased with his considerate gesture.

“We haven’t started dinner yet,” your father said for the first time, flashing Benji a forced, overly polite smile. Benji, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach, took his seat next to you with a wary glance. “The evening only truly begins after we’ve had dinner,” Harwin continued, his tone carrying a hint of unspoken challenge.

You noticed your siblings trying to stifle their laughter, while your mother shot your father a disapproving look. Despite the subtle tension, Harwin remained unfazed, taking a slow sip of his wine as if nothing were amiss.

"Well then, good afternoon," Benji replied fast, and his lips curled into a slight smile as he saw you and your mother chuckling at his response. However, his smile quickly faded when he noticed your father's narrowed eyes fixed on him. The intensity of your father's gaze made him feel little, and he had to make an effort to maintain his composure under the scrutinizing attention.

He could see Jace smiling across the table, which made him lick his teeth.

You placed your hand gently on his side, whispering some words of comfort, which made him place his hand on top of yours.

“Harwin!” Rhaenyra called out with a firm tone, causing the man to straighten his back. You gave a satisfied smile at the interaction. “Stop scaring the poor boy!” she reprimanded. Harwin rolled his eyes but didn’t dare counter her; no one was foolish enough to do so.

“I’m glad you accepted my invitation,” she continued, this time turning her attention towards Benji, trying to move on from the awkward situation. Her tone softened as she spoke, and Benji gave her a grateful smile. 

“I'm truly glad you invited me,” he replied sincerely. Benji was surprised when he received the invitation from your mother. Although he had always had a good relationship with her, having met her a few times at football games, the situation was entirely different here.

Rhaenyra Targaryen was the woman who raised you and gave you life. It was thanks to her that you were who you were, and Benji felt a deep gratitude for that. Moreover, he knew she was your greatest inspiration, and he was thankful for being welcomed by her so warmly.

“Benjicot,” your father said, his tone surprisingly calm, yet Benji could sense the underlying threat. The interruption made everyone at the table pause and shift their attention to Benji, who tensed under Harwin’s piercing gaze. You squeezed Benji’s thigh unconsciously, a mix of concern and apprehension evident in your gesture.

"Do you really care about my daughter, or is this just a desperate attempt to get attention after last season?" Harwin's question cut through the air, and your eyes widened in shock as you felt a slight tremor run through you.

The dining room fell silent, but Rhaenyra remained composed, her posture unwavering as she understood her ex-husband's intentions. Jace, on the other hand, looked visibly irritated at the prospect of such a notion being true.

"Dad!" You scolded, your voice tinged with irritation. Benji had never seen you so visibly shaken, and his heart ached at the sight of your agitation. "What on earth are you trying to do?" you hissed, your hand unconsciously tightening its grip on Benji's thigh as you struggled to keep your composure.

Your father shrugged, a glint of challenge in his eyes. “I’m just asking a question,” he said, his tone casual but laced with an edge. He turned to Benji, his gaze piercing. “Are you afraid to answer?”

Benji’s free hand tightened into a fist, and he let out a frustrated sigh, using his other hand to gently massage yours. “I’m not afraid, Coach Strong,” he said through clenched teeth, attempting to ignore the smirk on your father’s face and the worried glances from your younger siblings.

"Then answer me." The oldest said this, tilting his chin towards his daughter's boyfriend.

You were about to open your mouth to protest, but before you could say anything, Benji cleared his throat.

“I love your daughter,” Benji began, his voice steady. The room fell silent, all eyes fixed on him as he continued. “I’m not using her to seek attention or validation—quite the opposite.” His tone grew more sincere, though it remained firm. “She means everything to me. From the moment I wake up until I fall asleep, she’s on my mind, and I’m certain she never leaves it. Her kindness and the way she inspires me to be a better person are invaluable. I may not know exactly when these feelings began, but they are deep and, above all, sincere.”

He paused, taking a deep breath, as he met Harwin’s gaze directly, which now held a hint of pride. “She didn’t make me fall in love with her suddenly or temporarily. Instead, she guided me to walk in love with her, and this journey has been so soothing that I believe it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever done unconsciously. And I’m grateful that she reciprocates my feelings.”

After his confession, you bit your lip hard, torn between the urge to cry or leap into his arms. As you looked around, you saw that your mother was already struggling against tears, deeply moved by his words and overwhelmed with happiness. Jace seemed to relax too.

The room remained silent for a moment, the weight of Benji’s sincere confession hanging in the air. Your father’s stern expression softened slightly, though his eyes still held a trace of scrutiny. He took a sip of wine, his gaze lingering on Benji with newfound respect.

Rhaenyra, her eyes shining with gratitude, lightly touched her rings. “Thank you, Benjicot,” she said softly. “It means a lot to hear how much you care about my girl.” She leaned in his direction, and he merely nodded, uncertain of what to say.

Harwin nodded, a slight, proud smile breaking through his usually serious demeanor. “It seems you really care about my daughter, and that’s something I respect,” he said, making you raise an eyebrow, realizing it had all been a test.

However, Benji, gave a relieved smirk, licking the inside of his cheek, and gently squeezed your hand. You looked at him, gratitude and love evident in your eyes, and he couldn’t help but notice how your chest rose and fell gently.

“Well then,” Rhaenyra said, breaking the silence. “Let’s enjoy dinner; Joffrey is getting impatient.” She laughed as she noticed the youngest child in the room, who was now mumbling about wanting ice cream.

The atmosphere in the room shifted as your mother’s words eased the tension, and the dinner proceeded in a more relaxed manner. Your father's stern expression softened to contained approval, and Benji, now more at ease, engaged in the conversation. As the evening went on, you leaned slightly towards Benjicot, your smile suggesting a hint of intimacy after the dinner.

It wasn't Benjicot your father had to worry about after all.

〰️ 〰️ 〰️

The rain pounded against the windows, obscuring the outside world. Inside the car, you and Benjicot were locked in a fiery embrace, mouths hungrily exploring each other's. The heat between you intensified as your hands roamed freely, every kiss and touch deepening the passion. 

He didn't know exactly when the making out had started. One moment you were giving him a suggestive smile at the family dinner; the next, your mother had asked you to get ice cream for your younger brother, who was throwing a tantrum. Suddenly, you were pulling him into the back seat of his old car, and ripping off your bra with urgent intensity. But, in any case, he couldn't complain, especially with your hips moving in circular motions on top of him.

He was sure this was one of the best secrets you had, and he made sure to make the most of it.

"Benji," you whispered breathlessly as he trailed kisses down your neck, each touch sending shivers through you. His mouth lingered, teasingly slow, as he moved lower, leaving a trail of hot, insistent pressure. The deliberate pace only heightened your anticipation, making the ache between you more intense as his lips finally reached your hard nipples, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

"Hmm?" He murmured as he circled his tongue around your nipple, almost letting out a moan himself when he noticed the pressure you were applying with your hips on his already hard cock, and this made him squeeze your ass almost unconsciously but still tightly.

"I need you," you moaned, and he looked up at you with an amused expression, still sucking on your nipple, waiting for you to continue. "Please," you almost begged.

He chuckled softly before pulling your head down to capture your lips again. As you opened your mouth in surprise, he took the opportunity to thrust his tongue inside, turning the kiss into a fervent clash of tongues and teeth.

"Of course, sweetheart," he responded with a hoarse voice. Before you had time to react, he lifted you from his lap and leaned you against the car seat, kneeling in the limited space he had.

Benji looked imposing, kneeling in front of you and completely ignoring the cramped space of his car. He pulled you by the waist with a strange mix of strength and gentleness, just for you, slowly moving your panties aside and making you lean back against the car seat until your pussy was directly in front of his blushing face. He smiled as he watched how eager and wet you were for his attention.

You were already panting, looking directly at Benjicot's face between your legs as his hazel eyes met yours with a mix of anticipation and amusement. His arms wasted no time in holding your thighs, which seemed extremely restless and eager to close with just the brief touch of his breath near your wet entrance, making him whisper a few inaudible and disjointed words before pressing his cheeks against the sensitive part of your thighs and giving your clit a painfully long, slow lick.

As you pulled harder on his hair, he buried his face deeper into your cunt, diving in and eating you out with precision. He was satisfied with the loud moans you let out from the sensation of his flexible muscle inside you, hungry and relentless. You didn't even know when the moans turned into screams.

Benjicot didn't cared about that, though.

Since there was no technique or precision in the way he devoured you, there was only animalistic hunger and fervent passion as his tongue flicked against your sex and his nose rubbed against your clit, leaving you so drunk with pleasure that the next thing that made you squeal was feeling his fingers massaging you while his mouth sucked the spot his nose had just been.

You looked at him as your body started to weaken, and when you noticed the intensity in his eyes, you had to close yours quickly. This only made him grip your legs even tighter, the veins in his arms bulging as your orgasm hit you like a torrent, completely coating his chin.

However, he seemed unwilling to stop.

Benjicot continued with fierce determination, his movements growing even more frenzied as his tongue and now fingers worked together to prolong your pleasure. You were at his mercy, each wave of ecstasy more intense than the last, and he showed no signs of tiring, intent on pushing you to your limits repeatedly.

"Benji," you choked out. "I can't, I can't!" you repeated over and over, your voice trembling with desperation. Your body gave way as the second orgasm of the night crashed over you, leaving you breathless and weak. He finally released you, his grip loosening as you collapsed, exhausted and spent, into the car seat.

He pulled his body away, eyes still burning with desire as he looked at you. You were there, your body shaking and covered in sweat, trying to catch your breath. The car seat was cold against you overheated skin, and the traces of pleasure still hung in the air. Benjicot wiped his chin, a satisfied smile on his lips as he watched you recover from the intense waves of ecstasy.

He looked at you with an intense expression, then, with a playful tone, spoke softly. “You’re so sweet, sweetheart,” he said with a smile as he sat beside you, pulling you against his bare tattooed chest.

You slowly opened your eyes, still trying to steady your breath. “Benji,” you murmured, your body still trembling.

He tilted his head, his touch now tender as you tried to recover. “I mean what I said at dinner. You’re everything to me, and I love you,” he whispered, his usually rough voice softened with affection reserved only for you.

Smiling warmly, you pulled his head down and pressed your lips to his once more. Completely forgetting the real reason you two were in the car.

well anyways — good night!! (shitty smut but yeah)

tag list: @h-0-error @whiteoakoak @spider-stark @rebeccawinters @knight-of-flowerss @weird-things-i-think-about @rhaenys-nyra @haydee5010 0 @hobis-hope95

— English is not my first language, so please be understanding if you saw any grammar mistake!

[boofeine]

kinky things that make seventeen members more aroused during sex

WARNINGS: mdni, smut headcanons, afab reader, cum play, breeding kink, bondage, restraining, overstimulation, role play, edging, pain kink, orgasm dinal, spanking, choking

tags: @huen1ngk4i @aaniag @svteensworld @kooqitas @unlikelysublimekryptonite

seungcheol – cum play and breeding; it has to be raw sex... there's nothing seungcheol loves more than feel your walls pulsating around his cock. the way he can see his hot cum spurr on your ass cheek or on your breast, belly, neck, anywhere really. sometimes, when he feels a little risky, he can't help but ask to cum inside you, the way your cums mixed comes out of your clenching hole when he finally pulls out, he's done but he's ready to get hard again.

jeonghan – having to keep quiet; it's all about the teasing, he loves seeing you suffer to keep it down when it feels so good. your lips caged in your teeth as small whines treats to come out, "is it too much, babe?", he would tease with a devilish smirk, testing all your limits by restraining your high until you can't take it anymore. when you're finally coming undone, he loves to press his palm over your mouth or demand you to bite him to not moan too loud.

joshua – multiple orgasm; like... HEAR ME OUT!! he likes to take his time with you, he's so gentle, with no rush at all. sometimes, it's not even on purpose, but he's edging you so much, that when it finally comes, you cum and cum and cum again. his stamina is crazy and he won't stop until he's satisfied. you squirm and sweat under his workship, "are you tired? i haven't even started with you yet, lay down again for me".

junhui – role play; see, he just gives me those vibes. he'd feel embarrassed at first, but once you fully clock him in, he'd be obsessed. specially, scenarios where you're doming him, he fucking lose his mind... use him, step on him, anything, he's rock hard under your actions. as he grows used to it, he even asks you to get costumized for it, getting really in character, he loves sexy costumes and lacy fantasies.

soonyoung – pain kink; is it new for anyone? hoshi, himself, said he works better under pressure. he loves the spanking and the degradation, he squirms and growls because of you, but it also makes him want to do a better job... if not to make you fully satisfied, he's not doing anything. i see hoshi enjoying face slapping, rough gripping like grabbing his cheeks and jaw while he's on his knees for you, thumb slowly making its way inside his mouth as you laugh at how pathetic he looks for you.

wonwoo – edging; sometimes he's in his mean mode, he normally is sweet and passionate during sex but breaking a sweat to make you beg him to let you cum is one of his favorites. the way you wrap your legs around his hips, rolling yours as you bumble breathy words in between "please", he never cums harder, pinning you down on the mattress to stop you from running, his core pressing over your clit as wonwoo alternates in rough thrusts and slow ones. it makes you almost cry for his mercy.

jihoon – being loud; different from jeonghan, he loves to hear you loud and clear, it bust his ego that he's doing such a good job at delivering pleasure. it could get him off guard at first, too afraid someone would hear, his cheeks flushing, as you scream your moans. but he grows attached to it, it turned into his breaking point every sex, he always pounds harder just to hear you. "is it that good, huh? fuck! let me hear you"

seokmin – overstimulation; especially during oral, he loves the way your legs close on his head when it's too much, how you whine, whimper, and cry out his name. how the grip you have on him always tighten when you say it's too much and that you can't cum anymore. he snugs to your arms, sweetly saying you're a good girl and that he knows you can take it. your pussy swollen and hurt as he whispers "just one more, give it to me" but it's never the last. he loves to treat you well before he gets anything, he gets hard just by pleasing and hearing you.

mingyu – getting tied up; just give this man some handcuffs, put him tied on the bed headboard, i swear he'd cum by just you using him while he's not able to do anything. he likes the frustration, the way he always tries to break free just to touch you as you look at him, tutting and disapproving his not so well behavior. he always cum faster than anything when you use his cock as your fuck toy on your cunt.

minghao – blindfold; he enjoys doing it on you, you always get more out of breath and sensitive when he gets you blindfold. the thrill of it making goosebumps form easily, anticipating every move he might do next. he's obsessed at seeing you so vulnerable, you look nothing but innocent those times. your low moans and whines, he swears you're heaven sent, bumping his length as he touches your body, watching you react shakily, watching you gets him wetter.

seungkwan – rage sex and spanking; not a surprise either... he almost never fights with you, but if there's a good outcome to those fights, it is how frustrated you both get and pull out during the makeup deed. it goes both ways, he likes both, you doming him or him doming you, either way is intense. the choking, the slapping, the way the words turn just a bit bratty and aggressive. he manhandles you like you're born to be his little light doll, changing positions and throwing you around on the bed sheets.

vernon – bringing more people to the game; yes, he's into it. he's up for the threesome always, more than three people, he'd ponder, though. he likes every different aspect of it, just sitting back and watching, or being watched, or mixing positions. it adds to the sex and he's up to it. he's not a jealous guy but normally sets to making the things to you and just receiving for the third person, maybe that's what also arouses him so much, he doesn't gotta do much to cum.

chan – orgasm denial; more precise, being the one receiving it. he enjoys the feeling of his red sensative cockhead burning and dripping pre cum every time you stop him from cumming. the way it hurts just a bit and enough to make him roll his eyes when he finally cums. he won't cum until you say he can and that alone, that hold of power you have on him, makes him tight on his ball. but he's good, he's so well-behaved, you must treat him well.

[urdreamydoodles]

Hi!!!

May I request something a little angsty to sweet?? 😈

An X-men x teen!reader with that one trope where it’s like:

“You’re not my dad/mom!”

“I know that, do you?”

With characters: Scott Summers, Logan Howlett, Storm, Beast, Magneto, and gambit

X-Men x Teen!Reader

You tell them that they are not your dad/mom during an argument

In the heat of the argument, the words slip out—sharp, hurtful. Their faces fall, stunned and wounded, but there’s a quiet pain in your own heart too, because you know the truth. Later, in the stillness, you find yourself beside them, whispering apologies, and they hold you as if to say: family isn’t only blood, it’s chosen.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr, Hank McCoy, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff & Wade Wilson

Ooh, you little evil spawn... I love this prompt, and I hope I have reached your expectations <3

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- Logan’s temper is legendary, but he’s always managed to keep it in check around you, knowing you need stability. However, the moment you shout “You’re not my dad!” during a heated argument, he feels a pang of anger and hurt. He’s spent years looking after you, guiding you in his gruff way, and in that second, it stings. Without missing a beat, he snaps back, “I know that, kid. Do you?”

- There’s a cold silence afterward, and Logan storms off, muttering under his breath. He knows he’s not technically your father, but you’re family to him. As he sits alone, drinking and stewing over the argument, he wonders if maybe he’s failed you somehow. He thinks back to the times he’d pulled you out of trouble or taught you some hard-won survival lessons, realizing just how deeply he cares.

- That night, the silence weighs heavy, and you feel a growing sense of regret. Logan has been the one constant in your life, a steady (if rough) presence who’s always had your back. You think about all the times he’s risked himself for you, the moments he’s tried to be there in his quiet, sometimes awkward way. It dawns on you that, without Logan, your life would be far lonelier—and that he truly has become a father figure.

- The next morning, Logan’s in the kitchen, frying eggs and bacon, trying to act like everything’s normal. When you finally muster up the courage to apologize, he doesn’t make it easy. He just grunts, flipping the eggs with a rough edge to his voice, not looking up. But he listens. After you tell him how much he means to you, he lets out a long sigh, and with a gruff but softer voice, he tells you, “Kid, you drive me crazy, but you’re family. You know that?”

- Later, you notice Logan starts going a little easier on you, keeping the snark to a minimum and checking in a bit more often. The bond between you grows even stronger, and while he’ll never be openly affectionate, you sense the quiet pride he has in you. If anyone tries to mess with you, Logan’s first in line to make sure they regret it.

- From then on, whenever you call him “Logan” instead of “Dad,” he just smirks and raises an eyebrow, as if daring you to say what you really feel. In his own way, he’s let you know that titles don’t matter—he’ll always be there, watching your back like only a true family member would.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy isn’t exactly the “strict parent” type, so when you start an argument with him, you’re used to his laid-back attitude. But this time, he gets serious, which shocks you enough to yell, “You’re not my dad!” Remy’s face goes still for a moment, then he raises an eyebrow with his usual calm demeanor, saying softly, “I know, cher. Do you?”

- Remy’s response hangs in the air, and he turns on his heel, leaving you to stew in the aftermath. You’re left alone, staring after him and feeling a pang of guilt. Remy has always treated you like family, his warmth and charm making you feel safe and wanted. You remember the countless times he’s been there for you, offering wisdom and laughter, even when you’ve messed up.

- That night, you can’t shake the look on his face—calm, yes, but with a hint of sadness. Remy’s always seemed so self-assured, but in that moment, it felt like he genuinely wondered if he’d overstepped. You begin to realize just how much he’s done to make you feel like you belong, without ever asking anything in return.

- The next day, you find Remy in the Danger Room, practicing. Nervously, you walk up to him and mumble an apology, explaining that you didn’t mean what you said. He turns to you, an understanding smile softening his gaze. “S’alright, kiddo. I know you got fire in you. Just remember—blood don’t make family.”

- After that, Remy’s even more of a constant presence, always ready to talk, laugh, or lend a hand. He starts making a point to remind you of your strengths, pushing you to see the best in yourself. Whenever he sees you slipping into self-doubt, he’ll casually throw in a story of one of his own mistakes, just to remind you that he’s been there too—and that he’ll always be there for you.

- Over time, you come to see Remy not just as a mentor, but as family, someone who chose to be in your life. He might not have the official title of “dad,” but there’s no question about the bond between you two. Remy’s heart is as big as his charm, and he’s shown you that family is something you build, piece by piece.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt’s patience seems endless, so when you yell, “You’re not my dad!” in the heat of an argument, the words shock you as much as they shock him. He’s silent for a moment, then replies gently, “I know, but are you sure?” He’s hurt but gives you a sad, understanding look before stepping away, giving you space to cool off.

- Afterward, the guilt eats away at you. Kurt has been nothing but kind and supportive, teaching you about acceptance and resilience, even when things are tough. His faith and positivity have been a guiding light in your life, and the thought of hurting him like this twists at your heart.

- You remember moments when he went out of his way to include you, especially when you felt like an outsider among mutants. Kurt has always been there, understanding what it’s like to be different and offering comfort when you needed it most. It hits you that, despite not being your biological father, he’s filled that role with all the love and patience he has.

- The next day, you find Kurt alone in the library, reading. You approach him, nervous but sincere, and apologize for what you said. He listens quietly, and when you’re done, he gives you a warm smile, saying, “It’s alright, mein freund. I will always be here, no matter what.” His forgiveness is immediate, his kindness knowing no limits.

- After that, Kurt becomes even more of a confidant, someone you know you can turn to for wisdom and understanding. He makes a point of reminding you that love is a choice, and he’s chosen you as family. Whenever you’re down, he’ll tell you stories of his own struggles, showing you that strength comes from within, even when life gets hard.

- The bond between you two only deepens, and Kurt’s gentle presence is something you come to cherish. He may not be your dad by blood, but he’s family through and through. Kurt’s unwavering faith in you becomes a source of comfort, a reminder that you’re never truly alone as long as he’s around.

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- Scott is used to being responsible and disciplined, so when you snap, “You’re not my dad!” during a heated disagreement, he doesn’t take it lightly. He stands there, tense and quiet, then responds, “I know. But do you?” before walking away, clearly hurt but too proud to let it show.

- That night, you can’t stop replaying the argument in your head. Scott may be strict, but he’s always had your best interests at heart. He’s spent countless hours training and guiding you, doing everything in his power to prepare you for the dangers of the world. As you think back, you start to feel the weight of what you said, realizing how much you’ve taken him for granted.

- You begin to understand that, in his own quiet way, Scott has been a father figure to you, even if he doesn’t say it outright. Every stern lecture, every training session—it was his way of protecting you, showing he cared. The guilt eats at you, and you know you need to make things right.

- The next morning, you approach him in the War Room, nervous but determined. You tell him how much his guidance means to you, how you didn’t mean what you said. Scott listens carefully, his expression softening as he nods. “We’re a team, and that means we’re family,” he says firmly. “I’m here for you, always.”

- From then on, Scott’s support becomes even more evident. He may not be the most openly affectionate, but he makes it clear that he’s in your corner, no matter what. He starts opening up to you more, sharing his own struggles with responsibility, letting you see the weight he carries as a leader and mentor.

- Over time, you come to appreciate Scott’s steady presence, realizing how lucky you are to have him as a father figure. He may be tough, but his loyalty is unwavering, and he’ll always have your back. In Scott, you find a kind of steadfast strength that reminds you every day that family isn’t defined by blood—it’s built on respect, care, and unwavering support.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- Jean’s kindness is boundless, so when you shout, “You’re not my mom!” during an argument, her expression drops, a mix of shock and sadness. She takes a deep breath, her voice calm but strained, and says, “I know, but I care about you just the same. Do you know that?” With that, she steps back, giving you space to cool down, but the sadness in her eyes lingers.

- In the quiet that follows, you feel a pang of regret. Jean has always been there for you, her gentle support unwavering, guiding you with both warmth and patience. You remember the countless times she’s been there to comfort you, a soothing presence who never hesitated to make you feel loved. The memory of her expression, the way her shoulders slumped, makes you feel worse.

- That night, you find yourself replaying the argument over and over. You begin to realize how much Jean’s presence has shaped your life, that she’s been more than just a mentor or friend—she’s been like a mother, even if neither of you ever said it out loud. Each memory fills you with gratitude and a growing need to make things right.

- The next day, you find Jean in the garden, tending to the flowers with her usual care. Tentatively, you approach her, stumbling over an apology. She listens, her eyes soft as she pulls you into a gentle embrace. “It’s okay,” she murmurs. “I know these things aren’t easy. I’m here for you, no matter what.” Her forgiveness is instant, her hug comforting, as if she understands all you can’t say.

- After that, Jean becomes even more of a mother figure, offering a patient ear and a shoulder to lean on whenever you need. Her kindness is a quiet strength that you come to lean on more and more. You notice she checks in on you more often, making sure you know she’s there, even when words don’t need to be said.

- Over time, you come to cherish her presence even more, recognizing her as your found family. With Jean, you feel safe, loved, and valued, and her quiet guidance reminds you every day that family doesn’t have to be by blood. It’s in the love you choose to share, and Jean’s love is as steady as the rising sun.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- Ororo’s calm strength is like a force of nature, but when you yell, “You’re not my mom!” it’s as if a storm has passed through her eyes. She doesn’t lash out, doesn’t even raise her voice, but she looks at you with a steady gaze and says, “I know that, little one. Do you?” Her words are gentle but piercing, and she leaves you to ponder them.

- That night, as the weight of your words sinks in, guilt gnaws at you. Ororo has always treated you with kindness and respect, guiding you through life’s challenges with wisdom and care. She’s been your rock, the person who’s grounded you, and you feel ashamed for taking her love and protection for granted.

- You think back to all the moments Ororo has been there for you: teaching you about the world, sharing her culture, and encouraging you to be true to yourself. You realize that she’s been more than a mentor—she’s been family. Her quiet strength and unwavering love have been like the rain, nourishing you and helping you grow.

- The next day, you find Ororo on the rooftop, gazing at the horizon. Gathering your courage, you apologize, explaining how much she means to you. She listens, her gaze as steady and calm as ever, before she gently places a hand on your shoulder. “I forgive you,” she says with a small smile. “Family isn’t always about blood. It’s about the bonds we choose.” Her words bring you a comfort you hadn’t realized you needed.

- After that, Ororo takes on an even more motherly role, gently guiding you and always offering wisdom when you need it most. You start spending more time together, finding solace in her presence and strength in her words. She reminds you of your own resilience, always making you feel capable and valued.

- Ororo’s love becomes a source of strength, and you come to see her as family in the truest sense. Her support is unwavering, her guidance is steady, and with her, you find the sense of belonging and family you never realized you craved. She’s a mother figure, not by title but by choice, and her love fills a space in your heart you hadn’t known was empty.

Charles Xavier aka. Professor X

- Charles rarely shows disappointment, but when you yell, “You’re not my dad!” during an argument, there’s a flash of hurt in his eyes. He looks at you thoughtfully, his calm, composed demeanor intact, and simply says, “I know that, but are you sure?” before quietly excusing himself. His voice is soft, but the weight of his words lingers.

- As the reality of your words hits you, a wave of guilt follows. Charles has dedicated himself to making you feel safe, offering guidance, structure, and endless patience. He’s been more than just a mentor—he’s been a father figure, the one who’s always there to listen and guide you without judgment.

- You begin to reflect on all the small gestures he’s made to show he cares, from teaching you with kindness to offering you advice when life felt overwhelming. Charles has seen potential in you from the start, treating you with respect and compassion, and the thought of hurting him leaves a knot in your chest.

- The next day, you approach his study, nervous but determined to apologize. Charles listens, his usual calm presence enveloping you in a sense of safety. He smiles gently, nodding as you express your regrets, and simply says, “I understand, and I forgive you.” His forgiveness feels like a weight lifted, and he reminds you that love and family are choices, not just obligations.

- After that, you feel even closer to Charles, and he continues to be your steadfast supporter. He encourages you to pursue your strengths, guiding you with wisdom and patience, and you start to see him as a father figure you can truly depend on. His calm understanding becomes a source of comfort, a reminder that family can be chosen and built on mutual respect.

- Charles’s influence becomes a grounding force in your life, his guidance always there to lift you up. With him, you find a sense of belonging and love that goes beyond mere words. He may not be your biological father, but he’s family in every way that matters, and his unwavering belief in you becomes a constant source of strength.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- Erik is not known for his patience, so when you yell, “You’re not my dad!” it’s like a slap to the face. His eyes harden, his voice cold as he responds, “I know, but perhaps you don’t.” With that, he turns away, his pride wounded but his expression betraying a flicker of sadness. For Erik, family is sacred, and your words cut deep.

- That night, guilt starts to creep in. Erik has been harsh, yes, but he’s always shown you the value of strength, resilience, and conviction. He’s taught you to be bold, to stand up for yourself, and though his methods are tough, he’s been there for you in ways that no one else has. You begin to realize how much you owe to his guidance.

- Memories flood back of times when Erik’s fierce loyalty protected you, his dedication ensuring you never felt alone. He’s been like a father to you, albeit a strict one, and as the guilt weighs on you, you see that his rough edges have been his way of showing love, even if he doesn’t say it outright.

- The next day, you approach him with an apology, your voice shaky but sincere. Erik listens, his piercing gaze softened by something like understanding. He accepts your apology, and in his own stern way, he reminds you that strength is born of struggle. His words are harsh, but his forgiveness is there, hidden beneath his rough demeanor.

- From that moment on, Erik’s presence becomes even more of a steady force in your life. He challenges you to be your best, pushing you to embrace your potential, and though he rarely shows open affection, his actions speak louder than words. He’ll protect you fiercely, his bond with you deepening as he takes on the role of a mentor and protector.

- Erik’s influence makes you feel strong and capable, and while he’s a difficult figure to love, you know that he’s chosen you as family. His pride and determination inspire you to believe in yourself, and even if he’ll never say it directly, his loyalty is proof that you’re family to him, forged through fire and unbreakable.

Hank McCoy aka. Beast

- Hank is rarely one to raise his voice, but when you blurt out, “You’re not my dad!” in the heat of an argument, he freezes. For a moment, he’s quiet, his face clouded with hurt before he gives you a calm but serious look. “I’m aware of that. But I’ve always tried to be here for you, haven’t I?” His voice is gentle, yet his words sting in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Without another word, he leaves, giving you the space you both clearly need.

- As you cool down from the argument, guilt quickly sets in. Hank has been nothing but patient and caring, always offering you understanding and support when you needed it most. His gentle presence has been a source of comfort, and the memory of the sadness in his eyes makes you realize how deeply you’ve hurt him.

- Reflecting on all the times Hank has been there for you, you remember how he would stay up late to help you with your studies, his voice soft and encouraging as he shared his vast knowledge. His kindness was never forced; he genuinely cared, and you start to see that he’s been like a father figure all along, even if neither of you ever put a name to it.

- The next day, you find Hank in the lab, engrossed in his work as usual. Hesitantly, you apologize, struggling to find the right words. Hank stops what he’s doing, looking at you with that familiar, gentle expression. “I appreciate your apology,” he says, his tone warm and forgiving. He doesn’t need to say much to make you feel better; his soft smile is enough to lift the weight from your shoulders.

- After that, Hank is still there for you, but the bond between you feels stronger. He seems to make an effort to check in on you more often, even gently guiding you through life’s challenges with his usual wisdom and warmth. You realize how much you’ve come to rely on him as a steady presence in your life.

- Hank’s compassion and patience become pillars of support as you grow, and he becomes more than just a mentor—he’s family. His encouragement and gentle guidance make you feel valued, and you start to understand that family isn’t just about blood; it’s about those who choose to stand by you, even when things get tough. With Hank, you’ve found a father figure in the truest sense.

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- When you yell, “You’re not my mom!” in a heated moment, Wanda’s eyes flash with pain. She takes a deep breath, her voice steady but laced with hurt as she responds, “I know I’m not. But I’ve always tried to be there for you, haven’t I?” Her voice is soft, a mix of sadness and disappointment that lingers in the air as she turns away, giving you the space you clearly need.

- Guilt settles over you like a weight as you recall everything Wanda has done for you. She’s been a constant source of love and protection, going out of her way to create a safe space for you in a chaotic world. Her kindness has been unwavering, and the memory of her hurt expression leaves you feeling remorseful.

- You begin to remember all the times Wanda has comforted you, her gentle presence like a soothing balm when the world felt overwhelming. She’s always known what to say, her intuition guiding her as she wrapped you in warmth and reassurance. You realize how much her presence means to you, that she’s been a mother figure even if you never said it.

- The next day, you approach Wanda, the words of an apology on your lips. She listens, her eyes softening as you explain how sorry you are. She pulls you into a gentle hug, murmuring, “It’s okay. I understand.” Her forgiveness is immediate, her embrace warm and reassuring, and you feel the weight of your guilt lift as you lean into her.

- After that, Wanda continues to be there for you, her love as constant and unwavering as ever. She’s more protective, always ensuring you know you’re loved and valued. Her presence feels like home, a reminder that family is more than just titles; it’s the bond you share and the love that endures even through difficult moments.

- Over time, Wanda becomes even more of a mother figure, her guidance and love anchoring you as you grow. With her, you find a sense of belonging, a family built on mutual care and understanding. Wanda’s love becomes a source of strength, and you come to see her as family in the truest sense.

Pietro Maximoff aka. Quicksilver

- Pietro has always been quick to defend you, so when you shout, “You’re not my dad!” during an argument, his face falls, his usual bravado replaced by a flicker of hurt. He hesitates, then responds with a hint of vulnerability, “I know I’m not. But I care about you, and that’s not going to change.” He doesn’t say much more, leaving with a hint of frustration and sadness.

- Your heart aches almost immediately after the words leave your mouth. Pietro has always been a constant in your life, fiercely protective and ready to do anything to keep you safe. His loyalty has been unwavering, and the memory of his hurt expression weighs on you, leaving you feeling guilty.

- As the regret settles in, you begin to think back to all the moments Pietro has been there for you, his fast-paced life slowing down whenever you needed him. His protectiveness might come off as overbearing, but it’s always been rooted in love. You realize how much you mean to him, that he’s been like a father figure, even if neither of you put it into words.

- The next day, you find him in the training room, going through a series of drills. Nervously, you approach him with an apology. Pietro pauses, listening intently, and his usual cocky grin returns as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, saying, “Don’t worry, kid. Family fights sometimes.” His words are light, but there’s a warmth in his tone that makes you feel forgiven.

- From then on, Pietro is still as protective as ever, though he seems to make an extra effort to remind you that he’s there for you. He includes you in his adventures, always finding ways to bring laughter and excitement into your life. His loyalty is fierce, and you find comfort in the way he’s chosen to stand by you.

- Pietro’s support becomes a source of strength, and over time, you come to see him as family. He’s there for you in ways that matter, his love loud and unfiltered. With him, you’ve found a father figure who’s more than willing to face the world at your side, his loyalty a constant reminder that family is chosen as much as it is given.

Wade Wilson aka. Deadpool

- Wade’s never been the most conventional parental figure, but when you snap, “You’re not my dad!” he goes silent. It’s rare to see him at a loss for words, but the hurt that flickers across his face is hard to miss. After a pause, he says, “Hey, I know that, but... I kinda thought we had something here, y’know?” He tries to play it off, but the sadness in his voice lingers as he gives you space.

- Almost immediately, regret starts to settle in. Wade has been your protector, your friend, and even if he’s unconventional, he’s always made sure you’re safe. He’s taught you to laugh, to find humor even in dark situations, and the thought of hurting him leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

- You think back to all the times Wade has made you feel cared for, his offbeat sense of humor a constant source of comfort. He’s been like a father in his own chaotic way, always finding unique ways to show he cares. The memory of his hurt expression haunts you, and you feel a strong need to make things right.

- Finding Wade isn’t hard; he’s at the usual hangout, cracking jokes to mask whatever he’s feeling. You approach him, offering an apology, and he listens, his face breaking into a goofy grin. “Oh, kid, you can’t get rid of me that easy!” he teases, pulling you into a bear hug that’s both ridiculous and comforting.

- After that, Wade goes back to being his usual chaotic self, but he’s even more protective, throwing around jokes about being your “self-appointed, totally unofficial, slightly psychotic dad.” His antics make you laugh, and you come to appreciate his unique way of showing love, realizing he’s been there for you all along.

- Wade’s love may be unorthodox, but it’s real, and over time, you come to see him as family. He’s the loud, unpredictable presence you didn’t know you needed, his humor and loyalty bringing you a sense of belonging. With Wade, you’ve found a father figure who’ll stand by you, his love chaotic and unconditional in every way that matters.

[dulcescorderitas]

𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓷 𝓹𝓻𝓪𝔂𝓼

warnings: somewhat religious

dean sat at the edge of the motel bed, his hands clasped tightly together, knuckles white. the world carried on beyond those thin walls, but inside, time seemed to stand still.

dean wasn’t one to pray. not really. even after everything—angels, demons, the apocalypse—faith wasn’t something he carried easily. but tonight, he was desperate. his gaze flickered over to the bed where you lay, your breathing shallow, face pale, a stark contrast to your usual vibrant self.

"alright," dean muttered, voice low, rough around the edges from hours of tension. "i don't know if anyone's listening. hell, i don't know if you even care. but i need you to. i need you to help her." his voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, trying to hold it together. "she doesn't deserve this."

the room seemed heavier, the silence pressing in around him as he struggled to find the right words. "i'm not askin' for much. just... fix her. do whatever it is you do, but don't take her from me. she’s... she’s the reason i can keep doing this, the reason i don’t lose it when everything else goes to hell."

dean's jaw clenched, and he exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging with the weight of it all. "you wanna punish someone? take me. i’m the one who screws up, the one who’s got a mile-long list of sins. but not her. she’s got more to do, more people to save, more life to live."

a soft moan broke through the quiet, and dean's head snapped up. you stirred, your eyelids fluttering before they opened just a sliver.

"dean?" your voice was barely above a whisper, but it was enough to make him move, shifting to sit closer to you, relief washing over his face.

"hey, hey, i'm here," he said softly, his usual gruffness tempered by the worry etched into his features. "you’re okay."

you tried to sit up, wincing as pain shot through your body. dean was there in an instant, his hand on your shoulder, gently easing you back down. "hey, take it easy," he murmured. "you gave me one hell of a scare."

your lips curved into a faint smile, despite the pain. "what... happened?"

dean hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "hunt went sideways. you got hurt. bad. i’ve been sitting here, waiting for you to wake up."

you looked at him, your eyes searching his face. "how long?"

"too long," dean admitted, his voice quieter. he glanced away, as if ashamed of the vulnerability he’d just shown. "i, uh... i might’ve prayed a little."

your eyes widened in surprise. "you prayed?"

dean shrugged, a bit of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "don’t make a big deal out of it. just... felt like the right thing to do."

you reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand. "thank you," you whispered, your eyes softening. "for staying."

dean’s hand tightened around yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "always," he said, his voice low but firm. "you’re stuck with me, remember?"

you smiled again, this time a little brighter, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like a blanket. "good," you whispered, letting your eyes drift shut, comforted by his presence.

dean sat back, his gaze never leaving you. the weight on his chest eased just a little, and for the first time in hours, he allowed himself to hope.

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis

[wolvietxt]

𝓭ay 𝓯ourteen.

daryl dixon and mixed signals.

you’d gotten used to daryl’s rough edges over time. there was a certain comfort in knowing what to expect, even if that often meant dealing with his gruffness. but lately, he’d been different - quieter, more distant. whenever you saw him, there was hardly more than a grunt of acknowledgment before he’d be off somewhere else, hunting or keeping watch. it felt like something had shifted, and you weren’t sure why.

you kept your distance, figuring if he needed space, you’d give it to him. after all, everyone was dealing with their own struggles at the prison. you kept yourself busy, helping with the chores and making yourself useful wherever you could. but when you noticed how little he seemed to care whether you were around or not, it started to hurt more than you wanted to admit.

days turned into a week, and by then, you could barely remember the last time you’d had a real conversation with him. he was always somewhere else, either physically or mentally. you found yourself hesitating to approach him, not wanting to deal with another one of his curt replies. you told yourself it was just how he was - he’d always been a bit standoffish - but it was hard not to take it personally when he seemed to be avoiding you entirely.

one afternoon, you caught sight of him by the gates, checking the perimeter. the sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows across the yard. taking a deep breath, you decided to approach. maybe you’d been reading too much into things, and if you just talked to him, you’d realise it was all in your head.

“hey,” you called out, walking up beside him. “haven’t seen much of you lately.”

daryl didn’t look at you. his eyes stayed on the treeline, his expression as unreadable as ever. “been busy,” he muttered.

“yeah, i figured,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light. “but, y’know, we could still talk every now and then. just because we’re all busy doesn’t mean we have to shut each other out.”

“i ain’t shuttin’ anyone out,” he said, his voice a little sharper than you expected. “got things to do. don’t need to be chit-chattin’ all the time.”

you took a step back, surprised by the edge in his tone. “i wasn’t saying that. just... thought maybe we were friends.”

that got his attention. his gaze flicked over to you, brows drawn together in a frown. “we are,” he said, like the word was unfamiliar on his tongue. “just ‘cause i ain’t around doesn’t mean i ain’t still... y’know, here.”

“could’ve fooled me,” you shot back before you could stop yourself. “you’ve barely said two words to me in days.”

he turned fully to face you then, his expression hardening. “been dealin’ with stuff,” he said. “you ain’t the only one who’s got things goin’ on.”

“i never said i was,” you replied, your own frustration building. “but if you’re gonna act like i’m just some inconvenience, then maybe i should stop trying to be around.”

“who said you’re an inconvenience?” he snapped, his voice rising. “damn, you always gotta make things so complicated.”

you flinched, the words hitting deeper than they should have. “i’m not trying to make things complicated, daryl. you’re the one sending mixed signals. one minute, you’re fine, and the next, you’re acting like i’m a nuisance. what am i supposed to think?”

he exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “i don’t know,” he admitted, his tone softer now. “just... things are different. i’m different. don’t mean it’s got anything to do with you.”

“it feels like it does,” you said quietly, the anger giving way to a dull ache. “i thought we were closer than this.”

“we are,” he said again, but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as you. “i ain’t... good at this kinda thing.”

you sighed, your shoulders slumping. “daryl, i’m not asking you to be perfect. just... don’t push me away. i care about you, and it’s hard to do that if you’re always keeping me at arm’s length.”

his jaw tightened, and for a moment, he seemed to struggle with whatever he wanted to say next. “i’m tryin',” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “ain’t used to people givin’ a damn.”

“well, get used to it,” you said, your voice gentler now. “i’m not going anywhere.”

there was a long pause, the air thick with unspoken words. daryl looked at you, and for once, there was no anger, no frustration - just a quiet kind of confusion, like he didn’t know why you cared, but he didn’t want you to stop. “sorry,” he mumbled, his voice low. “for actin’ like a jerk.”

you managed a small smile. “it’s okay. just... maybe let me in a little, yeah?”

he nodded, a hesitant movement that seemed to cost him more than it should. “yeah,” he said, almost like a promise. “i’ll... i’ll try.”

you reached out and gently touched his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles. he didn’t pull away, just watched you with that same uncertain expression. it was a start, at least.

over the next week, things got a little better. daryl wasn’t exactly chatty, but he wasn’t avoiding you either. he’d linger a little longer when you’d talk, offer a gruff “good job” if you did something useful, and once, when he found you struggling with a heavy load, he stepped in without a word, taking it from you like it was nothing.

it wasn’t much, but it was something. still, there were moments when he’d pull back again, just when you thought he was starting to open up. it was like two steps forward, one step back, and you couldn’t tell if he was making progress or if he was just... stuck.

one evening, you found him out by the edge of the woods, crouched down as he checked a snare. the light was fading, and there was a chill in the air, but you walked over anyway, determined to keep trying.

“catch anything?” you asked, crouching beside him.

“nothin’ yet,” he replied, not looking at you.

“figured,” you said, glancing at him. “you okay?”

he shrugged. “fine.”

“you sure?” you pressed, watching him carefully. “you’ve seemed... off.”

he stilled, his jaw clenching. “ain’t nothin’,” he said, but there was something in his tone that gave him away. you could tell he wasn’t being honest.

“daryl,” you said softly, “if something’s wrong, you don’t have to keep it to yourself. i’m here for you, you know.”

“i know,” he grunted, finally glancing at you, his gaze flickering with something unreadable. “just... ain’t used to talkin’ about stuff.”

“then don’t talk,” you said, your hand resting on his shoulder. “just... let me be here with you.”

for a moment, he didn’t respond, just kept his eyes on the snare in front of him. then, with a slow exhale, he straightened up, his shoulder brushing against yours. “fine,” he said quietly. “but don’t expect me to get all... sappy.”

you smiled at that, a little relieved that he hadn’t pushed you away this time. “wouldn’t dream of it,” you said lightly.

as the days passed, you continued to see glimpses of that softer side of him, though it was still wrapped up in that familiar gruffness. you caught him watching you sometimes, a look in his eyes like he was trying to figure something out. you didn’t push him, just let things be, and hoped he’d come around in his own time.

but then, just as you thought you were getting somewhere, he snapped again. it was over something small, some stupid disagreement about whether or not to go on a run for supplies. he was short with you, his words cutting sharper than usual, and it took everything in you not to snap back.

afterward, you found yourself retreating to your cell, wrapping your arms around yourself as you fought off the sting of rejection. you’d tried so hard to be patient, to give him space, but it felt like you’d been walking in circles. why did it always have to be so hard with him?

that night, you found yourself wandering out to the courtyard, needing some air. you hadn’t expected to run into him, but there he was, leaning against the fence with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the darkened landscape.

“what’re you doin’ out here?” he asked when he noticed you, his voice softer than before.

“could ask you the same thing,” you replied, not bothering to mask the hurt in your tone.

he shifted, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “look, about earlier,” he started, his voice gruff, “i didn’t mean to - ”

“yeah, i know,” you interrupted, not wanting to hear another half-hearted apology. “you didn’t mean to snap, you didn’t mean to push me away, you didn’t mean to make me feel like i don’t matter. i get it.”

daryl stiffened at your words, his jaw working as if he was trying to form a response but couldn't find the right one. his gaze dropped to the ground, and he let out a frustrated sigh. “ain’t like that,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “you do matter.”

“then why does it feel like you’re always pushing me away?” you asked, the hurt bleeding through in your voice. “it’s like one minute you’re letting me in, and the next, you’re shutting me out. i don’t know how to keep up with you.”

he glanced up, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something vulnerable beneath the gruff exterior. “i ain’t good at... keepin’ people close,” he admitted, his voice rough. “always figured it was better to keep my distance.”

“better for who?” you asked, taking a step closer. “because it sure as hell doesn’t feel better for me.”

he rubbed the back of his neck, frustration evident in the tightness of his movements. “for you,” he mumbled. “don’t need someone like me weighin’ you down.”

you shook your head, your chest tightening at the realisation. “daryl, i’m not here because i need someone to make my life easier. i’m here because... because i care about you, okay? and it hurts when you act like you don’t care back.”

he was silent for a long moment, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you. finally, he let out a breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. “don’t know how to do this,” he said, the words coming out almost like a confession. “bein’ close to people... it don’t come natural to me.”

you took another step forward, reaching out to gently touch his arm. “then let me help you figure it out,” you said softly. “we don’t have to have it all figured out right now. just... don’t push me away.”

he looked down at your hand on his arm, his gaze softening in a way that was rare for him. “sorry,” he said again, his voice gruff but sincere. “for actin’ like an ass.”

you managed a small smile, relief washing over you. “it’s okay,” you said. “just... try not to do it so much.”

a quiet chuckle escaped him, and he shook his head. “can’t promise that,” he admitted, though there was a hint of a smile on his lips now. “but i’ll try.”

you stood there for a moment, the silence stretching between you but feeling different now - less strained, more... comfortable. when you looked up at him, he was already watching you, his expression a little softer than usual.

“thanks,” you said quietly, not really knowing what else to say.

“don’t gotta thank me,” he replied, his tone gruff but lacking its usual edge. “just... don’t give up on me, alright?”

“never crossed my mind,” you said, and you meant it.

as the weeks passed, things continued to shift between you and daryl. there were still moments when he’d get snappy, but now, he’d usually apologize afterward, albeit in his own awkward way. sometimes, you’d catch him looking at you like he was still trying to figure out why you bothered sticking around, and you’d give him a reassuring smile to let him know you weren’t going anywhere.

one afternoon, as you sat in the courtyard, patching up an old jacket, you noticed daryl nearby, working on his bike. he kept glancing over at you, like he was debating whether or not to come over. eventually, he seemed to make up his mind, dropping his tools and walking over with his usual guarded expression.

“you busy?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“not really,” you replied, setting the jacket aside. “what’s up?”

he shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable. “just... wondered if you’d wanna go on a run with me tomorrow,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “could use the help.”

you raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at your lips. “are you asking me to come along because you actually want my help, or because you’re trying to make up for being a jerk last week?”

he scoffed, but there was no real annoyance in it. “don’t push your luck,” he grumbled. “could just as easily ask someone else.”

“i’m kidding,” you said quickly, standing up. “i’d love to go.”

his expression softened, and he gave a short nod. “good,” he muttered. “be ready at first light.”

the next morning, you were up before dawn, and by the time daryl arrived, you were already waiting by the gates with your gear. he gave you a quick nod of approval before leading the way into the woods, his pace brisk but not hurried. you followed closely, glad for the chance to spend time with him outside the walls of the prison.

the run went smoothly, with only a couple of walkers to take down along the way. it wasn’t until you were on the way back that daryl finally spoke, his tone more casual than you’d heard it in a while. “you did good out there,” he said, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“thanks,” you replied, a little surprised by the compliment. “you weren’t too bad yourself.”

he huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “don’t get cocky,” he said, but there was a faint smile on his lips.

as you neared the prison, the conversation tapered off, and you found yourself wondering if things would go back to how they were before - if he’d retreat behind those walls he’d built around himself. but as you reached the gates, daryl turned to you, his expression more open than you’d ever seen it.

“thanks for comin’ along,” he said, his voice low. “meant a lot.”

“anytime,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “you know where to find me.”

he nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small, almost imperceptible smile before he turned and walked away. you watched him go, a quiet warmth spreading through your chest as you realised that maybe, just maybe, things were starting to change.

over the next few days, daryl was around more often, seeking you out for small tasks or just sitting nearby while you worked. it was a subtle shift, but it felt significant. there were still moments when he’d snap at you, but now, it was easier to brush off, knowing that the softness was still there underneath.

one evening, you were sitting by the fire, lost in thought, when daryl came over and sat beside you. “whatcha thinkin’ about?” he asked, his tone gruff but curious.

“nothing much,” you replied. “just... glad you’re here.”

he gave a quiet grunt in response, but you could see the way his eyes softened at your words. “yeah,” he said after a moment, “me too.”

you turned to him, a small smile on your lips. “i think you’re getting better at this whole ‘being close to people’ thing,” you teased.

he rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in them. “don’t push it,” he said, though his voice was light.

“fine,” you said, leaning back and letting the warmth of the fire wash over you. “but i’m proud of you, daryl.”

he looked at you, something like gratitude flickering in his gaze, and for a moment, there was nothing but quiet understanding between you. then he looked away, his usual gruffness returning. “you’re somethin’ else,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

“guess that makes two of us,” you replied, nudging him playfully.

he didn’t respond, but a small, genuine smile graced his face.

the fire continued to crackle, casting flickering shadows across daryl. he was still beside you, closer than he’d been in a while, his usual distance melting away in the warmth of the moment. you couldn’t help but feel a quiet thrill at how his defences seemed to be crumbling bit by bit.

“you know,” you said softly, turning your head to look at him, “you’re not as tough as you let on.” there was a teasing lilt in your voice, but it held a hint of something deeper.

daryl’s eyes flicked to yours, narrowing slightly as if trying to gauge what you meant. “what’s that s’posed to mean?” he muttered, though there was no bite in his tone.

“just that... you’re not fooling anyone,” you continued, your voice dipping lower. “especially not me.” 

he held your gaze, something sparking in his eyes that hadn’t been there before - a quiet intensity that seemed to draw you in. you could feel the air between you growing heavier, charged with an unspoken question neither of you dared to voice.

“yeah?” he murmured, his voice gruff, but there was a softness underneath, a trace of uncertainty that told you he was letting his guard down just enough to let you in.

you leaned in slightly, closing the small distance between you, your gaze flickering to his lips before meeting his eyes again. “yeah,” you whispered. “you’re kind of sweet when you want to be, you know.”

he scoffed, but it came out almost breathless. “ain’t sweet,” he grumbled, though his eyes betrayed the way his breath hitched when you got closer.

“prove it,” you challenged, your voice barely audible, your breath mingling with his.

his expression tightened with something you couldn’t quite place - part hesitation, part longing, part frustration. then, in a quick movement, he cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in, his lips crashing against yours with a roughness that sent a shiver down your spine. 

his kiss was demanding, almost desperate, as if he’d been holding back for far too long. his calloused fingers tangled in your hair, tugging you closer as if he couldn’t stand the thought of letting you go. you responded just as fiercely, your hands fisting in his shirt, feeling the solid warmth of him under your touch.

when he pulled back, it was only for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as his breath came out ragged. “this what you wanted?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, the roughness edged with something raw and unguarded.

“maybe,” you breathed, your lips grazing his again, teasingly light. “or maybe i just wanted to see if you’d actually do it.”

a growl rumbled in his throat, and he kissed you again, harder this time, his grip on you firm but not harsh, like he was trying to convey everything he didn’t know how to say. the heat between you intensified, and you found yourself arching into him, his hands trailing down to your waist, pulling you even closer.

it wasn’t just a kiss; it was a silent promise, a raw confession of everything he’d kept bottled up. and when he finally drew back, his lips swollen and his gaze burning with something deep, you knew this was a turning point - one you wouldn’t come back from.

“damn troublemaker,” he muttered, but the words were rough with affection. his thumb brushed over your cheek, a surprisingly gentle gesture that sent your heart racing all over again.

“guess that makes two of us,” you whispered, echoing your earlier words as you leaned in to steal one last kiss, savouring the taste of him and the feeling of finally breaking through the walls he’d built.

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[kaisaerinlover]

michael kaiser

tw: mentions of domestic abuse, and he hurts her a little bit at the end with a pinch

michael kaiser is rough around the edges, rough all over actually. well, not quite. even the most violent of people have their softest most tender spots. he is no exception to the rule. kaiser is so dark, so disturbed, so ruined from everything. he’s really just the product of every bad thing to ever occur in his life. maybe that’s why there’s something so sweet inside of him too, just a fraction of sugar amongst all of the bitter tar. a gram of your sugar. the kindness you gave him. kaiser can be gentle when he wants to be, when you ease it out of him.

that’s why you’re brushing his hair so nicely, you almost look like a normal couple. standing behind your boyfriend, brushing out his golden hair, goldielocks kaiser. you could laugh at that thought. he looks so sweet like this. so sweet when he has his guard all the way down for once. it’s a deity for him to be so relaxed, so you should relish in it the few occasions it happens. the poor man never seems to let his mind rest, never seems to trust anyone totally, never seems to be able to just be human. with you it’s different though, it’s not that he doesn’t trust you, the opposite actually. why wouldn’t he trust you? you stay with him through everything he puts you through. he trusts you the most in the world, actually. you could ruin him, ruin his life at any moment. what would the public think of his less than savoury relationship with you? what would everyone say when they found out how he treats you? about you at all, even? he knows you won’t do anything bad to him. that’s how much he trusts you. maybe it’s not even trust. just confidence. just unbridled pure knowing. you could call it love, but with kaiser, it’s hard to be sure.

you’re special, is what he’s trying to say, what he’d be trying to say if any of this was going on out loud. but no. you’re brushing his hair so delicately, like if you’re too rough he’ll disintegrate, and he could almost fall asleep. it’s the opposite though, the most breakable one is you, and in more ways than not you’re already broken beyond repair, thanks to kaiser’s words, kaiser’s fists, kaiser kaiser kaiser. it’s a shame he doesn’t really grant such treatment to you. but he likes broken toys anyway, they feel better, more familiar; like home. but you were broken from the beginning anyway, in ways only he could understand.

he pulls away eventually from your hands. you flinch instinctively as he stands up from the chair in front of his vanity and turns around to face you. it’s scary, naturally, he’s a vigorous man. he’s so merciless to you sometimes that you struggle to even comprehend why he’s with you and why you’re so lucky to have someone like him. you flinched over an impact that was never going to come, no fist to the face, no slap, no shouting, no choking. just a slightly bent over michael kaiser. your 186cm lover face level with you, giving you a genuine smile. none of the cruel smiles he gives to you usually. just a soft smile on his face. he looks so pretty like this. he’s so cute. you really can see the kid in him. he’s so innocent looking when he wants to be. or does he want to be innocent looking? either way, he’s so cute to you.

it’s strange seeing such a thing etched onto his features, his perfect model-like features. fuck, you’re so lucky aren’t you? you’re so fucking lucky to have him, even if he treats you so bad. why the fuck hasn’t he left you yet? he’s so beautiful. seriously, he doesn’t even look human. he’s like a fucking angel. staring into your dull eyes with his deep blue ones. they’re piercing you. even his eyes upstage yours. it’s hard to not be insecure over michael kaiser, because he truly is a spectacle. it’s okay though, he doesn’t think you’re human either. you’re a sweet angel princess. you’re as pure as a little bunny enjoying its first snow. and you’re also as cute as a button. he doesn’t verbalise those things too often though; he has a lot of untended to rage inside.

his tattooed hand is holding your considerably smaller one as he looks into your eyes so deeply, so lovingly. it’s really like something from a movie, a romance novel written by a teenage girl back in the day, a girl who just finished twilight, or the titanic. some cliché love story. so savour the moment while it lasts, because you and him are both not lacking the self awareness it takes to realise it won’t last for long. you smile back ever so sweetly. god you’re sweet. like sugar, or something of that sort. so fucking endearing. too cute, kaiser thinks. “little angel” he praises, and you giggle. your giggle is the most beautiful of melodies to him. it’s also rare, because he sure as hell doesn’t make you giggle often. more like cry. and sob. and everything of that sort, he won’t let his brain dwell on the synonyms for too long, then he might just have to think about the weight of his actions (and nobody wants to do that.) but hey, he’s just as fond of those sounds too, maybe in a different way.

he leans in and kisses your cheek in a way only a prince could kiss the princess he just saved from turmoil. it’s like you’re just kids again, fooling around and seeing what it’s like to have some loving contact from another person. like you’re both still too shy to go that extra mile. it’s so pure. so white. yeah, if you were a colour, you’d be white. milk white. it’s ironic because kaiser actually hates milk, you love it though. there’s something so deeply poetic about that, kaiser thinks. but he chooses, again, to not dwell on it; he hates thinking about these things too much. sometimes he does though, sometimes he’s so angry at himself for treating you the way he does. he fucking hates himself sometimes. he punishes himself as harshly as he does you sometimes. because he doesn’t really want to be this way, but then again, he likes it.

he’s leans in again and pecks your lips, and you giggle again. you’re like a giddy little girl. he picks you up like you weigh nothing, maybe you don’t, maybe you’re light because you’re not even human, just a cute pile of sugary sweetness, or a cupcake. he slams you onto your shared bed, the first rough act of the night. ouch. it kind of hurt, your back definitely felt that impact. usually you would be scared, heck, 5 minutes ago you were scared, flinching at him merely standing up. but right now is different. you don’t care at all. you’re so excited, so drunk on your’s and kaiser’s love. don’t focus on the bad, just focus on the good.

man, it’s so difficult for kaiser to not just ravage you here. you look so fucking cute. so untainted, somehow, even though you very much are. maybe that candy sugaryness of yours is keeping you untainted after everything. you’re so sweet you could seriously turn someone diabetic, he thinks. he almost laughs at that thought. his smile is still genuine as he nips at your neck, the skin marked by his hands last night. he remembers it too well, but shakes off the thought. he’s licking and biting so lightly, gently claiming you as his for the 1000th time. there’s really no need anymore, but you both enjoy it anyway. “so cute” he mumbles into your neck. “wie eine kleine prinzessin” you giggle some more. “really? you mean it?” you wonder. does he? ‘cause sometimes he’s seriously treating you in the complete opposite way. “of course, my princess. my dolly to do what i want to” he smirks back into your neck. that makes sense, of course, you’re his. you’re still his princess, he’s just a little different to those fairytale princes you (secretly and ashamedly) sometimes wish you had instead of him.

kisses in bed with kaiser always escalate into something more, even if he’s in a good mood, you guess. but you want it so bad this time. he’s so gentle right now. lightly fucking you. can you even call it fucking? it’s like, seriously, making love. kissing you, holding your hand and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he thrusts himself inside of you, albeit so slowly. he’s usually rough, extremely rough, the bruises alongside your thighs and hips are proof of it. you’re marked all over by kaiser’s barbarity, but now he’s being so nice. it feels so good too, getting fucked in such a way. it’s like you’re a virgin again, having your very first time. this is how your first with kaiser should have gone. but we all know it didn’t go that way, because why would it? it’s michael fucking kaiser. “l-love you- s’ much- mi-“ he shushes you with a kiss before you can even finish your declaration of love. “sh, don’t say stupid things like that. i love you so fucking much my sweet fucking babygirl” is he insecure? why is your love stupid? he’s still fucking you, it’s difficult to articulate yourself clearly; “b-but- hnghh- i do love yo-u- and it’s- it’s- is not stupid-“ you manage to sputter out between his thrusts. he laughs and kisses you sweetly “you shouldn’t love me, but you do, you’re crazy, schatz” he laughs again and mumbles “so fucking crazy, mine” he thrusts one more time “all for me”

feeling kaiser finish inside of you after he just fucked you like you’re the most special princess in town is liberating, so good. to say the very least. he’s still ontop of you looking at you like you’re the most valuable gem in the museum; he’s smiling too, still with that genuine smile. making love feels so good, it really does. being pampered in such a way is so good. he’s so good at it. it’s a shame he’s so brutal most of the days. he thinks the same. he’s eyeing you up and down, pinned underneath him on his white lacy bedsheets, the ones you picked that day at the store. he feels crazy powerful, examining every mark he gave you that’s still present. he sees a particularly nasty bruise on your stomach, one from a few days ago, and runs his hand over it so gently. he pinches it, squeezes it tightly, and laughs a bit. “fuck, you’re so helpless, aren’t you?” he chastises you as he prods and pinches your injury.

his change in behaviour was sudden, yet not dramatic. he’s still being relatively nice, actually. you bite your lip to keep those pretty diamond tears from spilling over your rosy cheeks and nod obediently. “yes, yes ‘m h-helpless” fuck it hurts. he’s still laughing at you, his blonde locks, the ones you brushed so gently earlier falling on your face, dampened by the tears that you just couldn’t stop from falling. those aren’t just from pain, you’re mourning the sweet kaiser you just lost. it’s almost taunting, his blonde hair somewhat drying your tears. the hair you treat with such care, the man you treat with such care, and still will. he’s still laughing “i like that, and you do too, don’t you little thing?” he’s not expecting an answer, and you’re not going to give one, it’s pointless to; you already know the answer and he does too. you both like it. you both love it, even, because even though he’s more evil than you by a long-shot, you’re still both as sick as each other.

the german said : what a little princess or something like that, idrk how to directly translate it into english but yeah it’s something along those lines, enjoy <3

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷𝚔 || 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐕𝐄

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Jess was not what everyone made him out to be, and you were not too naïve to believe that...right?

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Jess Mariano x Reader

Stars Hollow has always had a way of wrapping itself around you. Every corner of the quirky little town, every face that smiled back at yours, it felt like safety. You’d grown up here, where everyone knew your name and the soft way you saw the world. It wasn’t naivety, at least that’s not how you saw it. You just always chose to believe the best in people, even when the town buzzed around you, warning you to be careful, to protect yourself.

But it was always protective of you. The town. They treated you like something fragile, like a porcelain doll that might shatter if handled too roughly. You never saw it that way. You were just… you. Seeing the good in people wasn’t a weakness; it was just how you were wired. But that didn’t stop everyone from fretting.

When Jess Mariano moved to town, all those concerned whispers turned into full-on conversations. “Be careful,” they’d say, watching you like you were made of glass. “He’s trouble.” And sure, you’d seen his rough edges—the sarcastic comments, the lingering smirk, the way he pushed everyone away before they had the chance to get close. But somehow, with you, he wasn’t any of that.

You’d catch him slipping books into your bag when you weren’t looking, ones he knew you’d love. He’d hold the diner door open for you without even thinking, and sometimes, in those quiet moments when you’d both sit by the bridge reading, his arm would brush yours, and instead of pulling away, he’d linger just a little longer.

But Rory didn’t see that. Rory, your best friend, and when you told her—voice soft, words barely above a whisper—that you thought you might like Jess, it felt like the ground beneath you shifted.

"Jess?" Rory’s tone was sharp, her brow furrowed in disbelief. "You can't be serious. He’s just playing with you, you know that, right?"

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden coldness in her voice. “What do you mean?”

Rory sighed, crossing her arms. “Look, you’re… you’re sweet, okay? Too sweet. You always see the good in people, and Jess—he’s just… Jess. He doesn’t care about anyone, especially not you.”

Your heart sank, her words landing like stones. "How can you say that? You don’t see the way he is when it's just us."

Rory laughed, but there was no humor in it. "He's not different with you. You're just… you're the easiest person to fool in this town. Everyone knows that. You’re the nice one. The innocent one. He’s just going to break your heart."

The sting of her words was sharp, like a slap you hadn’t seen coming. "You don’t get to decide that," you murmured, feeling the familiar burn of tears behind your eyes. "You don’t know him like I do."

But Rory was relentless. "There’s no way Jess actually likes you. He’s just bored. He knows he can mess with you because you’ll let him." Her voice was firm, unyielding, and it left no room for argument.

You didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. Not when the hurt clawed its way up your throat, silencing you. Without another word, you turned and left, the tears finally spilling over as you opened the door to leave.

You made it to the porch, when you saw Lorelai already sitting there, a mug in her hand. Her eyes softened when she saw you, the slight quirk of her lips not quite enough to hide the concern etched in her face.

“So,” she said, trying for a lightness that didn’t quite land. “Guessing you had a little chat with Rory, huh?”

You stood there, heart aching, lip trembling, before finally breaking. “I guess you heard.” Your voice was barely a whisper, and it broke halfway through.

Lorelai’s smile faltered, her eyes filling with that knowing kind of sadness she always got when she wanted to fix something but couldn’t. “Well… she’s not exactly quiet. Or subtle. But hey, that’s our Rory.” She tried to laugh, but it only made your chest ache more.

You sat down beside her, your shoulders slumping as the weight of everything pressed down on you. “What if she’s right?” you whispered, staring down at your hands as they twisted together in your lap. “What if… he doesn’t really like me? What if I’m just… the easy one?”

Lorelai sighed, long and deep, before wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Kid, you’ve always seen the good in people. Sometimes more than they deserve. But that’s part of what makes you… you.” Her voice was softer now, less playful, and it only made the tears come faster.

You wiped at your face, sniffling. “He’s not like that with me, Lore. I know he’s not.”

She stayed quiet for a moment, her thumb tracing gentle circles on your arm. “Tell me what he’s done. What’s he done that makes you think he cares?”

You swallowed hard, trying to hold it together. “He… he gives me books. Ones he knows I’d like. And he… he waits for me after school sometimes. Even when I didn’t ask him to. And when I’m upset, he just… listens. He’s not the guy everyone says he is.”

Lorelai pursed her lips, thinking. “Sounds like he’s a little softer than the town likes to think, huh?”

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper now. “I think he cares about me.”

She sighed again, this time a little less heavily, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Maybe he does,” she said quietly, reluctantly, like she didn’t want to admit it, but couldn’t deny the possibility. “Maybe he does, kid.”

You sniffled again, leaning into her, the warmth of her arms the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely. “I just… I just want to believe in him.”

Lorelai pulled you closer, her arms wrapping tighter around you. “I know you do. And maybe you’re right. Maybe Jess Mariano does like you. And if he doesn’t… well, Luke and I will take care of that. But you… you're not the naive one for believing in him.”

Your lip trembled again, the weight of everything finally catching up to you. “I just don’t want to be wrong about him.”

Lorelai’s voice was soft, soothing as she rocked you gently. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. I promise.”

And you stayed there, curled up against her, wondering if maybe, just maybe, Jess Mariano wasn’t the villain everyone said he was. Maybe he was just waiting for someone to believe in him the way you did.

[tokkiwrites]

𝚄𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚢 𝚂𝚔𝚒𝚗. (4)

mom's fiancé! joel miller x f! reader • series masterlist

Summary: Your mom's new fiancé, Joel Miller, is the kind of man you could never shake out of your mind—rugged, rough, and embodiment of your long-buried fantasies. He's been your next-door neighbor for years, and the crush you harbored through your teenage years never really faded. Now, he's with your mom, and they're planning to get married. You should want her to be happy, but you can't ignore the tension growing between you and Joel. It's something that was never meant to happen. But as you uncover Joel's true motives for being with your mom, you realize maybe your feelings weren't one-sided after all. And maybe, despite everything, you’re the one he really wants.

Tags: stepcest kind of, age gap (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 40s), forbidden romance, emotional conflict, slow burn, sexual tension, complicated family dynamics, heartbreak, Joel being an emotionally complicated bastard, ANGST, cheating, infidelity, betrayal, talk about divorce, talk about not wanting a child, ANGSTTTT, (marjorie being a mean bitch but also a great plot device!), trauma!!! reader has daddy issues, but dont quote me on that.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ authors note 𑁯 ✿ im baaack !! the second to last part is here!! how do we feel so far? IT'S GOING DOWN!! one more chapter, and we will find out if anyone will get a happy ending. who knows.. maybe we'll make a spinoff of this? anyway, this is 3.37k words, so the shortest of the bunch butbi didn't want to add unnecessary smut :') HOPE YOU LOVE IT! not proofread soo if you anything spelled wrong umm close your eyes.

“Glad you could make it,” Marjorie said, closing the door behind you. “I thought we could have a little chat.”

“What do you want? was it really necessary for us to come here?” Joel asked, his tone edged with irritation. "Wouldn't want more people to see us now, right?" She leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms. “I think you both know exactly what I want." You exchanged a worried glance with Joel, trying to gauge how serious she was. “What are youㅡ?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly. Marjorie pushed off the counter and walked towards you, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. “I want you to share him for a bit." she said bluntly, a cruel smile twisting her lips. “You’ve had your fun, but it’s time to let the grown-ups play too. Besides, it’s only fair, isn’t it? After all, we can't let your mom find out about you two..." Your heart sank. “You can’t be serious,” you said, laughing as disbelief washed over you. “Oh, I’m very serious. If you want to keep this little affair of yours a secret, you’ll have to comply with my terms. I’ll tell your mother everything if you don’t.”

“Why would you do this?” Joel’s voice was low, but you could hear the anger simmering beneath the surface. “Because it’s fun, Joel. Because I can. And because your little fling is just that—a fling. I want you back, and I’m not above playing dirty to get what I want.” You felt sick, caught in the middle of a game you never wanted to play. “This isn’t fair,” you whispered, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Life’s not fair, sweetie,” Marjorie shot back. “You should know that by now.”

Joel stepped in front of you, a protective stance that made your heart swell and ache at the same time. “You don’t have to do this. You could just walk away, Marjorie. You’re better than this.” She laughed, a sound that was anything but lighthearted. “Better? Oh, darling, I’m far from better. I’m just getting started. So, that's the deal. You decide now.”

You felt the world around you spin as Marjorie’s words sunk into you like a bullet. “You’re a terrible friend,” you spat, rage and hurt flooding through you. “Your mother is the one who’s a bad friend,” Marjorie retorted, her eyes narrowing. “She knew how I felt about Joel. She knew we were together all those years ago. And yet, she had the audacity to marry him anyway.” Tears burned at your eyes as her words cut deep. “You’re just bitter because he moved on,” you accused.

“Bitter? Maybe. But I’m also vindictive. You’re standing in my way, and I don’t like it.” Joel’s hand squeezed yours tightly, and you could feel the tension. "Oh, so that's the only thing keeping you away? the fact that I am with him and not that he's your best friend's husband?"

"Didn't stop you, honey. And she's your mom." As Marjorie’s laughter echoed around the room, a twisted sense of triumph in her eyes, you felt the walls closing in on you. She was ready to play this game to the bitter end, and the stakes were too high. “Fine,” you said suddenly, surprising both Joel and yourself. “I’ll think about it.”

Marjorie’s expression turned sly. “Good. You have until tomorrow. Make your decision, and let me know. I’ll be waiting.”

On your way back home, the car ride was silent. You turned to Joel, his face a mask of frustration. "What now?" You finally speak up. “We’ll figure it out,” he promised, but the doubt lingered in his eyes. The gravity of the situation bore down more intensely than ever before.

When you got home, the air felt suffocating and so cold at the same time. Your mother had gone to bed early, and joel decided to spend the night at his apartment, closer to where he worksㅡ again. the stillness of the house was a stark contrast to the storm of emotions raging within you. You wanted to scream, cry, and run away from everything that was happening. But instead, you collapsed onto your bed, staring at the ceiling as the reality of your situation washed over you.

The next morning brought with it a sense of impending doom. You felt like you were walking on a tightrope, and the slightest misstep could send you tumbling into chaos. Your mother chatted about her plans for the day, seemingly oblivious to it allㅡ her daughter was fucking her husband. But you couldn’t focus on her words; all you could think about was Marjorie and the ultimatum she had laid before you.

As the day wore on, the burden of your decision weighed heavily on your chest. You knew you couldn’t keep Joel, your mom and Marjorie happy without sacrificing something monumental. The thought of losing Joel made your heart ache, but so did the thought of being betrayed by your own mother. Hours passed, and by the time your mother left for a gathering with her friends from work, you felt like a coiled spring, ready to snap. “I’ll be back late, sweetheart,” she called over her shoulder, and for a moment, you felt that flicker of guilt in your very sould again.

With the house empty, you sank into the couch, pulling out your phone and staring at it, waiting for Joel to text. The minutes turned into hours, and just as doubt began to creep in, your phone buzzed, a message from him lighting up the screen.

• Meet me at our spot?

Your heart raced, and you felt a surge of trepidation.

• I’ll be there.

You arrived at the secluded spot by the river, where the world felt far away. Joel was already waiting, leaning against his truck, the setting sun casting a warm glow on his rugged features. When he saw you, a relieved smile broke across his face. “Hey, you,” he said, pulling you into a tight embrace. You melted against him instantly, feeling the warmth and safety of his presence.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, pulling back to look into his eyes. “Marjorie is insane...”

but maybe so were you.

“Don’t worry about her,” he said, voice steady. “I won’t let her hurt you. We’ll figure this out together.” But even as he spoke, you could see the doubt flickering in his eyes. “She wants me to share you with her, Joel, what the actual fuck?" you whispered, the words feeling heavy and bitter on your tongue. “She can’t have you. You’re mine.” But then reality crashed in, and you felt the tears prick at your eyes. “What if she really tells mom?” you asked, desperation threading through your voice.

“Then we’ll deal with it. Together.” his hands were cupping your face, thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. “I love you. You know that, right? No matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere, baby." but the words felt hollow. “What if this is all my fault?”

“It’s not,” he insisted, his grip firm, eyes fierce. “We’re not doing anything wrong. We love each other. That’s what matters. ain't nothin' wrong with lonving somebody."

yeah, your mom's husband.

You wanted to believe him, to let those words wash away the doubts, but all was a threat and it loomed large, an insidious whisper in the back of your mind, reminding you that love alone might not be enough to shield you from the consequences of your actions. "Mom wouldn’tㅡ she will not understand, Joel. She’ll be devastated.”

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” he said again, his voice firm, but you could sense the uncertainty lingering beneath the surface. “We can go to her together and explain it all. You’re everything to me, baby, you know that. this is just a lessonㅡ people will always try and come between us.” Just like you came between him and your mom.

You wanted to believe him, but fear clutched at your heart like a vice. “What if she gets angry and takes it out on you?” Even now, he was all you cared about. The thought was unbearable. “I can handle it,” he said, determination lighting his gaze. “No one is going to make me not love you, babygirl.”

Finally, you took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I have to go home.” His expression shifted, disappointment mingling with concern. “Are you sure? We can stay a little longer—”

“I have to think. About everything.”

maybe love won't save it all.

The walk home felt like a thousand miles, each step heavy with dread. You replayed everything in your mind. was it really worth it? Was Joel worth it? Was your mom worth it?

the house was quiet, the only sound being the faint ticking of the clock in the hallway. You slipped inside, the darkness wrapping around you like a shroud, and paused for a moment to collect your thoughts. Suddenly, the silence was broken by the sound of the door opening. You froze, your heart racing as you turned to see your mother step inside, her face illuminated by the hallway light. She looked tired but happy, her laughter still lingering in the air as she made her way toward you.

“Oh, sweetheart! You’re back!” she exclaimed, pulling you into a warm embrace. You inhaled her familiar scent, a mixture of lavender and home, and felt a surge of guilt wash over you. “Hi, mom,” you said, your voice betraying the turmoil inside you. She smiled, but it faltered as she took a closer look at your expression. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I... it’s nothing,” you replied too quickly, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. Your mother’s brow furrowed in concern. “You can talk to me about anything, you know that, right, ladybug?” A lump formed in your throat, and you fought to keep the tears at bay. “Yeah, I know.”

This was it.

The moment where everything hung in the balance, teetering on the edge of no return. You knew what you had done was wrong—there was no denying it. No sugarcoating, no excuses. But as awful as your betrayal was, letting her find out from someone else, someone who wanted to hurt her for sport would be even worse. It would be cruel, cowardly, and the final twist of the knife. The only thing you could do now, the only thing that held even a shred of dignity or decency, was to take control of the narrative. To tell her the truth yourself. Not because it would fix anything—nothing could. but because it was the last way to show her respect. The last chance to do something for her that wasn’t tainted with deceit or manipulation.

You owed her that much. Even if she hated you forever, even if she never looked at you the same way again, it would come from you— not from Marjorie or anyone else who wanted to see her destroyed. You had already broken her heart, but you couldn’t let them shatter her spirit. Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself. It felt impossible, like standing in front of a firing squad, but you had to do it. The power had to be yours. This was the only way to make sure she knew the truth wasn’t a weapon someone else could wield against her.

You looked at her. If you’re going to lose everything, at least lose it by owning what you did. Not by running away.

“Mom, can we talk?” The words rushed out before you could second-guess yourself. She turned, her expression now serious. “Of course, honey. What’s on your mind?” You hesitated. You wanted to tell her everything—about Joel, about Marjorie, about the love that was blossoming in the shadows. You had to. “Just... something.” You started biting your lip.

"Something?" she pressed, her voice calm but with an undercurrent of concern. She stepped closer, her eyes searching your face as if trying to read your thoughts. “What’s going on, sweetheart?” Your chest tightened, the truth pressing down on you like a boulder. “It’s about Joel,” you blurted out, unable to stop the words from spilling over. Her face stiffened at his name, her posture straightening. “What about Joel?” she asked, her tone sharper now. The air grew heavier with each passing second, the silence between you stretching like a chasm. "Did he do anything to you?" her worry was obvious.

"N-no..." You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. “We’ve... been seeing each other.” The words were heavy and raw. Her face shifted, confusion and disbelief warring for dominance. “What do you mean ‘seeing each other’?” she asked with a laugh, though you knew she understood exactly what you meant. “I mean we’ve been... together,” you admitted. Her face twisted. “Together?” she repeated, the word snapping like a whip. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. “Mom, I love him.” Her laughter was harsh, bitter. “You love him? Joel? My husband? Your stepdad?” Her voice cracked with fury and pain.

You hated to hear that. You hadn’t realized quite yet who he was to you. "He's not my dad, momㅡ"

“How long has this been going on?” she interjects. “Since... before the wedding,” you confessed, and the words hit her like a physical blow. She staggered back, her hand flying to her chest. “Before the wedding?” she repeated, her voice trembling. “So you’ve been lying to me this entire time? Both of you?" Tears streaked her face, but they did nothing to soften the anger in her eyes. “How could you? How could heㅡ ?!” Her voice rose. "Is this some kind of sick fucking joke?" her voice cracking. "It's not a joke, Mom," you said, your voice trembling. "I didn't want this to happen, but it did. I—"

"Didn't want this to happen?" she cut you off, her eyes blazing. "You expect me to believe that? That it just... happened? His dick just fell into you, right? You betrayed me! My own daughter, with my fucking husband!" She threw her hands up, pacing the room like a caged animal, her anguish filling every corner. “You’ve destroyed everything—everything! How long have I been the fool, sitting at home, playing happy family while you... while you—”

“Stop it!” you shouted, your voice breaking. “You don’t understand—”

“I don’t understand?!” she snapped, whirling to face you. “You don’t think I understand betrayal? You don’t think I know what it feels like to be stabbed in the back by the two people who should love me the most?” Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breathing erratic. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you said desperately, tears spilling freely now. “But I love him, Mom. I love him.”

“You love him?” she echoed mockingly. “You love my husband? Do you even hear yourself? What kind of daughter—what kind of person does this?” The venom in her voice stung, but you couldn’t back down now. “I’m not proud of this,” you said, your voice quiet and steady. “But it’s the truth. I love him, and he loves me.” Your voice rises again. She stared at you in disbelief, her jaw tightening. “Loves you?” she spat, her tone dripping with scorn. “Is that what he told you? That he loves you? That this is some grand romance and not just another one of his selfish, disgusting whims?”

“Stop it,” you said quietly, but she pressed on, her anger building like a storm. “Do you even know him?” she hissed. “The real him? Or are you just blinded by whatever lies he’s been feeding you? He’s a liar, a manipulator, and now he’s turned my own goddamn daughter against me.”

“You don’t know anything about us!” you shot back, your voice rising to match hers. “You think you’re the only one who’s ever been hurt? The only one who’s ever felt unloved? You don’t understand—”

“I don’t understand?” she interrupted, her voice rising to a shout. “What don’t I understand? That you’re selfish? That you’re reckless? That you’ve thrown away everything we had for... for him?” The words hit you like a slap, but they also ignited something inside you. “You don’t get to stand there and pretend you’re some kind of victim!” you yelled. “You’re not perfect, Mom! You’re not blameless!” Her face twisted in rage and pain. “So now this is my fault?” she demanded. “You’re blaming me for your choices? For his choices? You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m not blaming you,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion, as you were sobbing. “But you don’t get to act like you’re innocent either. You’ve pushed people away your whole life, and now you’re acting surprised that someone finally—"

“Stop,” she said coldly, her voice low but dangerous. “Don’t you dare try to twist this around. Don’t you dare try to justify what you’ve done.” The room fell silent for a moment. Finally, she spoke again, her voice quieter but no less filled with anger. “I gave you everything,” she said, her voice shaky. “I sacrificed everything for you. And this is how you repay me?”

“I know you didn’t want me,” you suddenly snapped, the years of buried hurt rising to the surface. “I always heard you fighting with Dad, saying I was your biggest mistake! Isn't that why dad left?" Her eyes widened, stunned by the shift in the conversation. “What?” she said, her voice barely audible. “I know,” you repeated, the words spilling out like a dam breaking. “I heard it all. I wasn’t deaf, Mom. I was a kid but i wasn't fucking stupid! I knew you never wanted me.”

Her face hardened, a mixture of guilt and defiance flashing across her features. “Of course, I didn’t fucking want you!” she shouted, the admission slicing through the air. “I was twenty years old! I didn’t want a kid, and guess what? I can’t change that! I can’t just grab you and shove you back into my fucking uterus, can I? But i didn't abandon you, Iㅡ"

“I already knew that,” you whispered, your voice hollow. “You didn’t know,” she snapped, her eyes blazing. “You didn't know shit! You’re just trying to make me the bad guy so you can feel better about the awful, disgusting thing that you did.” The room seemed to pulse. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “But it did, and I can’t change it.” She shook her head, her hands trembling. “You have no idea what you’ve done,” she said, her voice breaking. “You’ve destroyed everything. Our family. My marriage. Everything.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, the words feeling inadequate even as they left your lips. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I can’t help how I feel.”

“You’re just like him,” she spat. “Selfish. Just like your fucking dad."

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