#and being in a car that forces them to just stop and chill for a second

[wedriftlikelonelyplanets]

Hello :) thank you so much for writing these propmts! I would like to request number 8 with landoscar (i dont know if this is allowed or not so please feel free to ignore this but i would love if it was about Oscars broken rib. However i will totally appreciate everything you write!!)

of course you're allowed to ask!!!! i'm pretty chill about trying to make requests fit the request! unless it's something i'm absolutely weirded out by. so no worries there.

from this prompt list here, number 8: "are you hurt"

Apologies again, this isn't really angst despite the "angsty prompt list" i'm apparently only capable of writing SOFT

It's hard to breathe, when he gets out of the car, can't stop himself from letting out a long, hissing breath as he frees himself. He sees the team waiting for him already as he climbs out, bated breath and broad grins. It feels good, knowing they're waiting for him, but he has to prepare himself.

He's already overstimulated from the pain, knows he's going to have to talk to Kim about it, but it's not like they have infinite amounts of time between Austria and Silverstone. He's probably just going to have to put his head down and grin through it. After all, it's what he's good at anyways. He hugs them, allows for pats on the back, gritting his molars together as sparks burst behind his eyelids. He just needs to make it through the podium, and then he can lie flat on his back in his driver's room and breathe through it.

Pop some extra strength ibuprofen and hope it's enough. Wonders if it's a pulled muscle, a pressure injury, even. He hopes that it's an easy fix, because he can't imagine sitting any part of this season out. Not with their car being a rocket ship. Not with the team where they are in the standings.

The podium celebration happens in a blur, leans himself into Carlos a little too heavily when his vision goes a little blurry from the pain of keeping himself completely upright. Knows his face probably looks deathly pale, but hopes no one else notices. He's relatively unscathed, when he makes it off the podium.

He's still got media left to do, still has the post race press conference, and the longer time stretches, the more exhausting it feels. The more energy it requires. It all passes in a blur, he can't remember the answers that spill out of his mouth to the questions he's asked. Knows that George and Carlos can probably tell that something's wrong, but they're probably not about to ask them what. Especially not George, riding the high of his victory.

When it's all over, he stumbles back to his driver's room, catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, cheeks flushed, eyes fever bright, he doesn't know why anyone didn't stop him.

It's slow-going to get his fireproofs off, every movement sending a sharp pain through his side, exacerbated by every breath he takes. He's only got them stripped to the waist when there's a knock on the door.

He opens it, and his mouth opens, and then closes, before he steps out of the way, wordlessly. Letting Lando barrel past him and flop down dramatically on the massage table in the middle of the room. It was a shit race for Lando, and Oscar knows he has to be fuming. He's just not sure he has the energy for it right now, doesn't have the energy to listen to Lando bitch about Max. All he wants to do is put something comfortable on, crawl into a car, and then crawl into his hotel bed, and sleep until morning before they have to repeat the week all over again, but at Silverstone instead.

"You alright?" he asks, trying to muffle the gasp of pain that escapes as he bends over to finish pushing off his fireproofs. But Lando doesn't answer, and when Oscar looks up, Lando's looking at him, eyes laser focused, lips downturned.

"Are you hurt?" the question comes out forceful, almost accusatory, and Oscar nods, a short, sharp jerk of his head.

Lando pushes himself up into a sitting position, looks at him, head tilted. "You told Kim yet?" he asks, and Oscar's reminded of a dog, waiting for a bone. "Haven't had the chance, have I, mate?" he says, sharply, turning his back on Lando, forgoing peeling the rest of his suit off to pull off his fireproofs instead.

Lets Lando see the long, naked line of his back in hopes that it'll be enough of a distraction, as he pulls on a t-shirt, zips on a hoodie over it. He still has to change his bottoms, get himself out of the fireproof leggings and the rest of his suit, but the idea of it is exhausting. He wants to flop down onto the massage table like Lando did, and cease to exist for just a little while.

"How bad?" Lando's still on the topic, and Oscar wants to tell him to let it go. "Mind yours," he hisses through his teeth, as he runs a hand through his hair, moves towards his backpack, where he knows he has a stash of ibuprofen stored. Lando grabs his wrist as he walks by, and Oscar allows himself to be reeled in, until he's standing between Lando's spread legs, so close their noses are practically touching.

"How bad, Oscar?" Lando asks again, and Oscar swallows heavily, the click of his throat loud in the quiet of his driver's room. Darts his gaze to Lando's blue-green eyes, and then away again, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze.

"Hurts to breathe," he mutters, and Lando nods, brushes his thumb reassuringly over the slope of Oscar's wrist, before leaning in to press a kiss to his lips, soft and chaste.

"I'm getting Kim," Lando says, finality in his tone. And then he's hopping off the table and making a beeline for the door, turning back for one second to look at Oscar, eyes burning through him with their intensity.

"Stay," it's a command, if he's ever heard one.

[charaznablescanontoyota]

boat for short motherfuckers?

the lake is so quiet that audrey can hear the chirp of every insect, the call of every bird, the sound of her own heart palpitating in her chest. her eyes are squeezed shut so she doesn't have to see how far out in the water she is, but that just makes it worse - each wave that rocks her little rowboat could be someone with a mask and a knife coming up underneath it, tipping it over, dragging her below the surface.

"closing your eyes makes it worse," trish calls, across the water.

"yeah, i kind of noticed," audrey says flatly.

still. she opens her eyes. there are only three of them left on the lake, now; shigeo got his exit a full thirty minutes of mindful meditation ago, and shadow got his soon after. audrey's pretty sure shadow just fell asleep in his paddleboat, but the car must have counted it as enough rest and relaxation for the door to appear.

so it's her, it's trish, and it's al, who technically has a door on his boat already, but volunteered to stay behind until the others did too. maybe he wasn't expecting it to be so hard for them to relax, but he doesn't seem to mind having more time to fish with the improvised rod he put together back on the shore.

audrey sighs and drags her hands down her face. she can feel her genre butting up against the premise of this car, her danger sense pinging off of something she knows isn't there, and it's like bees in her brain. so maybe, actually, fuck the premise. maybe the way she gets through this isn't by being quiet and alone.

"when's the last time you were on a boat?" she asks aloud.

"oh," trish says. she's aimlessly paddling her paddleboat - pink, naturally - around in circles, sending ripples through the water. "in italy, when we split off from fugo. i don't remember a lot of it. i was dying."

audrey silently adds this to her mental catalog of insane trish anecdotes. she's not sure what reply she was expecting but - sure, italy. venice has waterways, right? that makes some kind of sense.

"you were dying?" al asks.

"my dad," trish says, which is all the elaboration she needs to give, because they've all seen her dad firsthand.

"i think the last time i was on a boat was when teacher took on me and brother as her students," al offers - maybe to cut the awkwardness, god bless him. "she stranded us on an island for a month."

"hey," audrey says. "what?"

"that's where i learned to fish," he adds cheerfully, every bit as skilled as trish at not elaborating on the anecdotes he shares from his home world. it's just harder to get annoyed at him for it.

"what about you?" trish asks.

audrey looks to her, squinting against the sun. "what?"

"when were you on a boat last?"

"oh. uh." she has to think about it. "i dunno. lakewood has...a fucked up lake. like, 'a murderer got shot by the cops there' fucked up. kids only go out there on a dare, or to fuck with each other."

the last time she was at the lake was at that party where noah almost drowned, she's pretty sure. audrey grimaces, tries once again to put the idea of outstretched hands under the water, ready to grab her ankles, out of mind.

"trish," she says aloud, grasping for something else to think about. "tell me a story that isn't about a time you almost died."

"i blew up a plane, once," trish says immediately, then pauses, hums to herself. "i think i almost died during that, actually. so - disqualified?"

"uh, no, fuck that. tell me about the plane you blew up," audrey says. it's true that the story might not meet her criteria but once, just once, she wants to hear the full story behind something outlandish that trish has so casually dropped into a conversation.

trish looks taken off guard; there's a beat of silence before she starts to actually tell the story, her voice low and careful, her eyebrows furrowed as she draws on the memory. audrey uses one oar to rotate her boat so she's facing trish, a little closer than before, then closes her eyes again and listens. it's easier to tune out the insects and the birds this time, easier to ignore the waves that rock the boat.

[hairmetal666]

It's 3am. It's pouring down rain. Steve's soaked to the skin, been wandering the city for most of the night, hasn't slept in almost 24 hours, thinks maybe he's on the brink of delirium, and then a truck hits a pool of ponded water, sending a muddy wave cascading over him.

He just wants to go home but Dustin lost his dog and he can't leave a puppy out in this weather.

Steve steps off the curb, and what looks like a shallow puddle turns out to be a water-filled hole. He crashes towards the pavement, nothing he can do to stop it. As fast he's falling, he's miraculously not, arms wrapped around his waist. It takes a second for his brain to catch up, to understand that he's being held upright in an old-fashioned, romantic dip.

"Careful, sweetheart," a deep and smoke raspy voice says from above him.

it sends chills down his spine, the good kind, and warmth slips through him. His rescuer is a solid 10 knockout. Long, curly hair; eyeliner; decked out in leather and studs and chains. He smells like booze and cigarettes and weed, and it's intoxicating. Steve has to fight the instinct to nuzzle the guy's leather jacket. He's beautiful, holds Steve with the swagger only a guy with rings on every finger could pull off.

And Steve is a mud soaked mess in sweatpants and a threadbare Hawkins High tee. But the guy holding him isn't letting go. He stares down at Steve, brown eyes wide.

"Steve!" A voice calls over the patter of the rain.

"Dustin?" He says at the same time that the man holding him says, "Henderson?"

"Eddie?" Dustin asks.

"Wait, dnd Eddie?" Steve gets his feet under him, but Eddie's arms don't drop.

"You're the famous babysitter Steve I've been hearing all about?"

They gape at each other until Dustin reaches them.

"What are you still doing out here?" Dustin shouts. "We found Dart hours ago."

"Dustin!" He thinks he might cry. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You weren't answering your walkie!"

"Fuck." Steve drops his face to his hand. The walkie. Which is on the table by the front door where he and Robin leave their keys.

Steve swallows his frustration, the misery of waterlogged shoes, having to be up to open the store in a few hours, meeting the hottest guy he's ever seen when he looks like a drowned rat.

"I promised I'd find Dart, didn't I? Now what the hell are you doing out so late?"

"Mom and I were looking for you!"

"Let's get you back to the car, man, okay?" Steve says to Dustin. He wants to end this weird, terrible, embarrassing night before it gets even more humiliating.

"I can give you a ride home," Eddie says. He's got this weird, intense look on his face, staring at Steve.

"I'm only a few blocks away. I'll be fine. C'mon, Henderson."

"Oh, I can walk him. You head home."

He nods, starts towards his apartment, but turns back just in time to see Eddie and Dustin share a look he can't parse.

---

A few days later, Dustin's following him around at work, chattering about dnd as Steve shelves books, and without taking a breath during a soliloquy about owl bears, says, "Eddie's running a one-shot for us next week. You should come! It's a great way to get into the game."

"I'm not playing dnd," Steve answers. He slides a book onto the shelf. "I've told you this."

"Yeah, but you liked Eddie, right? He'd help you out!"

Steve squints at the kid. "I didn't really meet Eddie to know. Anyway, I'm sure he doesn't want a newbie crashing."

Steve is pretty sure Eddie doesn't like him, based on their short introduction, so he's not interested in forcing himself into the guy's dnd club. The night they met was humiliating enough, Steve in all his dorky glory.

"No, he totally wouldn't care. C'mon, Steve!"

"No can do." He ruffles Dustin's hair as he walks away.

He thinks that'll be the end of it, but every few days, for weeks Dustin and all the rest of the kids stop at the store to beg him to join their dnd club.

---

Steve is working the register and he hears the shuffling clank of a customer, looks up and finds Eddie. He's staring at Steve with that same look from the night they met, intense and piercing, cutting straight through the heart of him. He feels himself start to blush.

The first thing out of Eddie's mouth is, "Wait, this is your store?"

"Yeah?" Steve asks. "Is that--is that weird?"

"No! Not at all. It's a good store. Cute." His nose wrinkles when he says it and Steve's blush grows hotter. He knew Eddie thought he was a dork.

"Cute. Yeah. Right. Can I help you with something?"

Eddie rocks back on his heels, hands going to the pockets of his leather jacket, sending his chains jingling. "Oh, so, actually I wanted to see if you were busy?"

"Yeah, man. I'm busy." He laughs, doesn't intend to be mean about it, but he and Robin only opened the store six months ago and both take night classes at the local community college. Plus, everything he does with the kids.

Eddie's face flushes bright. "Oh, sure, of course. Yeah, I--I'll see you around."

The door thunks to a close behind him, and a voice immediately pops up to ask, "What the hell was that?"

He turns to find Max Mayfield hands on hips, glaring up at him, Robin close behind.

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

Max rolls her eyes and strides up to the counter. "Why were you an asshole to Eddie?"

"He started it!"

"I highly doubt that."

"Okay, Ms. Know-it-all, why don't you tell me what happened?"

"I know for a fact that Eddie came in today to ask you out. So, tell me, Steve Harrington, why he rushed out of here looking like a kicked puppy?"

"What?" He yelps. "Eddie doesn't even like me!"

She glares. "Doesn't like you? He's been pathetic about you since you met."

He gapes at Robin. "Don't look at me," she shrugs. "But that guy was definitely here to ask you out."

"Fix it." Max commands as she stomps out the door. "He bar tends at that metal place on 68th."

---

It's just after 9pm and he's at the metal bar on 68th, decidedly out of place in the yellow t-shirt and jeans he wore to his business accounting class.

It's fairly busy for a weeknight, but Eddie's not hard to find. He's obviously in his element, bobbing his head to a song Steve's never heard as he mixes a drink.

With a hard swallow and a healthy dose of humility, he walks up to the bar.

"Be right--" Eddie starts, balking when he notices Steve.

"Can we talk?" he shouts over the music.

Eddie's eyes widen a little, but he nods, slips out from behind the bar to guide him to an employee exit.

"What's up, Steve?" Eddie asks. His hands are in his pockets, shoulders bowed in.

"I wanted to apologize."

"What for?"

"Earlier, I--when you said the store was cute I thought you were making fun of me."

"But--why?"

"I thought you didn't like me." Steve cringes at the admission.

"What?" He laughs.

"I don't know. We met in the middle of the night and I was covered in mud looking for a dog that wasn't lost anymore."

"Steve. Holy shit." Eddie shakes his head. "You looked gorgeous that night. The way your clothes were sticking--you know what? Never mind. Did you think I wanted you to come to dnd because I hated you?"

"You wanted me to come?"

"Dustin didn't..."

"No! And he's been asking me to play dnd weekly for the past five years."

"Jesus Christ," Eddie slumps agains the brick wall at his back. "No wonder you turned me down today."

"To be fair," Steve slumps next to him. "If I had realized you were asking me out, I wouldn't have turned you down."

"No?" Eddie asks. His brown eyes gleam.

"Definitely not. I've had a crush on you since that night. Sort of devastating since I thought you didn't like me." Steve runs his hand through his hair, watches Eddie track the movement.

"The store is cute, Steve. I--uh--I've been a few times. Back before I knew you were the owner! I just kept seeing a hot employee with great hair and a perfect ass, and the vaguely mean lesbian barista gives me free drinks."

"That's Robin," Steve says. He's smiling so hard.

"I know that now," Eddie smiles back. "Sorry for being an idiot."

"Me too." Steve nods. "Do you--could I still come to dnd? Or take you out sometime?"

"Why not both?" Dimples pop on Eddie's cheeks, and Steve's heart flips.

"I like both." They're still against the wall, but drifting into each other's space.

"So Dustin said."

It surprises a laugh out of Steve. "I'm gonna kill him."

"Too bad. He's a nice kid."

"Eh, we've got six more to choose from."

"I have a few more hours here, but there's a diner down the street that does some of the most mediocre pancakes I've ever tasted. Meet me there? Around 2?"

"A thousand lost puppies wouldn't make me miss it."

The next time Steve is out at 3am he's pressed against a building, Eddie kissing him so thoroughly he knows he's never recovering from this one.

[moonstruckme]

I am clean from sh for about 6 months now (yay me) and lately, idk why, I’ve just kinda been struggling with accepting my scars and the fact that I’ll have them probably forever and your writing is really comforting and actually helps, so I wanted to ask if u could maybe write something with Spencer helping reader feel ok with having them on reader‘s thighs?

totally understand that that’s a touchy topic and if u don’t wanna write it, I also completely get it, thanks anyway for even reading this xxx

Ahh yay you!!! Congrats baby, and thank you for requesting <3

cw: past self harm, some nudity that's really not sexual but they joke about it a bit

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You’re sweltering. D.C. doesn’t usually get very warm, but for the last week you’ve been on a streak of record-breaking temperatures that’s made your clothes stick to your skin and has caused even your perpetually chilled boyfriend to refrain from putting on his cardigan until he gets inside his work each morning. Just walking between your car and various air conditioned buildings is enough to make you consider moving to the Arctic. 

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping inelegantly down on the bed to peel your jeans off. “Can we turn the A/C down to sixty, please?” 

“Let’s start with seventy,” Spencer negotiates. You hear his footsteps stop halfway down the hall as he adjusts the monitor. “I think we still have some lemonade left, if you want some.”

“Ugh, yes.” You tear your jeans off your ankles with enough force to nearly send them flying across the room and sigh blissfully as the A/C kicks on. 

You change out of your sweaty shirt too, going for your pajamas despite it being hours from darkness falling. You have no plans to go out into that hellscape again until tomorrow. You hesitate over a pair of pajama shorts before slipping on loose pants instead, not quite as cool but still light enough to allow some air flow. 

“I love you,” you tell Spencer when he passes you your lemonade as you come into the living room, sitting beside him on the couch. Ice clinks inside your glass, which is already forming little beads of condensation. You have the urge to rub it on your face. “I mean, unconditionally, but especially right now.” 

“I’ll take it,” he jokes back, tilting his head back so his face is in the path of the A/C vent. When he looks up, he finds you pinching up the fabric of your pants around your knees, trying to create a pathway for the air to move up your legs. “Why are you wearing those?”

You know what he’s asking you, and you intentionally misunderstand. “I felt like it was pajama time. No way am I going outside again today.” 

“Right, but aren’t you warm?” Spencer tilts his head. He looks like a particularly cunning puppy, brown eyes soft and inquisitive.

“A little,” you admit. 

“Then why not wear something shorter?” 

“That’s awfully forward of you.” You do your best to give him a smile. It doesn’t stick around long in the face of your boyfriend’s serious expression, increasingly worried. “Maybe I don’t feel like parading my legs around for you.” 

You can see the cogs turning in Spencer’s brain, and the usually fascinating process is suddenly almost painful to watch. You know he’s thinking of what you refusing to wear shorts used to mean, how nobody ever thought anything of it because, again, D.C. doesn’t tend to get very warm. How evasive you were about it then, too. An uncomfortable weight settles in your stomach. 

“Is there a reason you don’t want them out?” he asks, and his voice is gentle but his gaze is unflinching. 

You try to hold it as you shake your head. “I’m still clean.” The words seem to take more air than they should. Your guilt and embarrassment are enough to choke on. “I promise.” 

Spencer nods. “I believe you.” 

His eyes don’t so much as twitch down to your covered thighs. Relief like a cool breeze passes through you. It’s no small thing, his trust in you. Not after you’d gone so far out of your way to hide the evidence of your hurt from him before. 

“But it’s still related to that, isn’t it?” He lifts his glass, taking a sip before wiping the corner of his mouth. You almost smile, picturing your boyfriend in an interrogation room asking questions with this same gentle tone and wide open, curious expression. You don’t think Spencer could ever be harsh. 

“Yeah,” you say. What felt like something private and humiliating a minute before you suddenly want to share with him. Spencer tends to have that effect on you; he makes divulging your most gut-twisting secrets feel natural and easy. “My scars just haven’t gone away. I don’t really want to see them.” 

Spencer’s mouth pinches. “You know they won’t ever fully go away, right?” 

“Yeah.” You sigh, but it doesn’t feel like letting anything out. “I know.” 

“They will probably fade, though.” His fingers circle your ankle loosely, calluses skimming softly over your achilles tendon. “Is it that you don’t want to see them, or you don’t want me to?” 

You rub your lips together. Shrug. “Both, I guess.” 

He tilts his head. Like your answer is expected, but nonetheless perplexing. “I don’t care if I see them,” he says. His hand coasts up your leg, over the fabric of your pants, until he grasps it by your knee. “Can I?” 

You nod. You know he’d let it go if you said no, but it’s not worth begrudging him. “Sure.” 

Spencer brings both hands to the fabric at your hips, and you lift your bum up off the couch as he pulls downwards. Your legs are happy to breathe, the cool air coming out of the vent even nicer than you’d thought it would be. Spencer keeps going until your pajama pants are balled up underneath your feet. 

“You really were hot,” he says. It’s neither teasing nor gloating, a simple statement of fact. His fingers come to rest at your ankle again, and it’s the only kind of warmth you’ll allow. “Is it actually worth it?” 

You look down at your thighs. Your skin feels better than it had covered up, but it’s also a physical reminder of things you’d rather forget. “I don’t know,” you reply. 

“I understand why you don’t like them,” Spencer says. When you look up, you expect him to be as stuck on your scars as you are, but he’s looking at your face. His stare is calm and unmoving, like they don’t command his attention the way they do yours. “But I think they may be with you for a while. It might help to start trying to get used to them.” 

You blow out a breath. “I want to.” 

“I know,” he says. Easily, the way he’d said I believe you. And you think that he probably does know. Spencer has things from his past he can’t fully leave behind, too. 

His forefinger moves slowly up and down the back of your ankle, an absentminded gesture for him and a comfort for you. Slowly, his eyes dip down to your legs. You fight the urge to squirm and hide. 

“You know,” he muses, “there’s actually one thing I sort of like about seeing them.” 

Your top lip starts to curl automatically, your brows pulling together. “What?” 

“Just, that they’re old.” Spencer seems not to have noticed your reaction. His gaze is contemplative. “I mean, it’s not that I’m looking for them all the time or anything, but it’s nice to see them and know there aren’t going to be any new ones. These ones will fade, and then that will be it.” 

Something new clogs your throat. It’s just as heavy as before, but far kinder. 

Spencer looks up at you. He looks sheepish, the corner of his mouth uptilted self-consciously. “Sorry, it’s a weird line of thinking. I don’t want you to think I’m always checking on them.”

“No,” you swallow, “I get it. That’s nice, Spence.” 

He shrugs. “It’s the truth.” 

You could almost laugh. He makes things so simple. “I’ll change into shorts.” 

“You don’t have to,” he says. “If you’re already cooling off.” 

“Oh, yeah?” You keep your voice light, grinning at him as you shuffle over to straddle his lap. His fingers brush over a couple of the lines on your thigh as he brings them around your back, and the sensation doesn’t make you feel as shuddery as usual. You hug him with your arms around his neck. “You’re cool with me just staying like this then? No pants?” 

“Not if you don’t want to wear them,” he says agreeably. 

You laugh and hug him harder. “Thanks,” you tell him sincerely. 

Spencer only makes a soft dismissive sound as he hugs you back. 

[tinkaaabutt]

Supermodel- ekko.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

A fix inspired by Supermodel by our fav liar sza!

Ekko leaned against the brick wall of the bodega, his skateboard resting beside him. The low hum of the city was like a song he couldn’t get out of his head—car horns blaring, laughter spilling from a nearby hookah lounge, and the faint bass of a song blasting out of someone’s car. He pulled his hoodie tighter against the chill of the evening, but his attention wasn’t on any of it.

It was on you.

You stepped out of the corner store, all legs and confidence, carrying a bag of snacks and a look that could stop traffic. Your oversized leather jacket fell off one shoulder, showing off a fitted tank top underneath. Gold hoops glinted in your ears, catching the light, and your sneakers—freshly creased Air Forces—were spotless, as usual.

You looked like you belonged in the pages of a magazine, but the thing was, you didn’t care about being noticed. And that’s what made it impossible not to.

“Damn, you just gonna keep staring?” you called out, your voice cutting through the city noise like a melody.

Ekko smirked, pushing off the wall. “Maybe. You make it kinda hard not to.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile playing on your lips betrayed you. “Don’t start, Ekko. What’re you even doing out here? Waiting for me?”

“Who says I wasn’t?” he shot back, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, brushing past him. “Well, if you’re gonna waste your night following me, at least make yourself useful.”

You didn’t wait for him to catch up, but you didn’t have to. Ekko grabbed his board and fell into step beside you, matching your pace as you strolled down the block.

“Where we headed?” he asked, glancing over at you.

“Nowhere special,” you said with a shrug. “Just needed some air. You know how it is.”

Ekko nodded. He did know. Life could feel heavy sometimes, like you were carrying the weight of everyone else’s expectations. You wore yours well, though—like armor. But Ekko had seen enough to know it didn’t always feel like it fit.

“You good?” he asked after a moment.

You side-eyed him, raising a perfectly arched brow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just asking,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “You know, in case you needed someone to talk to or whatever.”

You laughed, a soft, melodic sound that made his chest tighten. “You’re cute for that. But I don’t need a therapist, Ekko. I’m fine.”

He didn’t push it, but he didn’t believe you, either. Instead, he pulled a snack out of the bag you were carrying—a bag of spicy chips—and opened it without asking.

“Seriously?” you said, stopping to glare at him.

“What?” he said, popping a chip in his mouth. “You weren’t gonna share?”

“I didn’t say that,” you muttered, snatching the bag back. But your lips twitched, and Ekko knew he’d won.

The two of you wandered aimlessly, weaving through side streets and alleys lit by the warm glow of streetlights. The conversation shifted from light jokes to music recommendations, to shared memories that made both of you laugh until your stomachs hurt.

By the time you found yourselves sitting on a park bench, the city had quieted, and the air was filled with that late-night stillness that made everything feel softer.

“You ever think about how people see you?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Ekko glanced at you, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

“Like…” You hesitated, your fingers toying with the hem of your jacket. “People think I’ve got it all together, you know? Like I’m some kind of supermodel or whatever. But they don’t actually see me.”

Ekko leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at you. “I see you.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I see you. Not just the way you walk into a room like you own it, or the way you roast me every chance you get. I see the way you care about people, even when you don’t want them

to notice. I see the way you hustle, the way you never let anyone catch you slipping. I see you.”

Your laughter faded, replaced by a soft, almost vulnerable expression. You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out. For once, you didn’t have a witty comeback or a sharp edge to deflect with.

“You don’t gotta do that,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “Act like I’m… more than what people see.”

“You are more,” Ekko said without hesitation. His brown eyes met yours, steady and unshaken. “And if nobody else is gonna remind you of that, I will.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. The city lights reflected in your eyes, and for a moment, Ekko forgot where he was.

“You’re really good at this, huh?” you said after a while, breaking the tension with a smirk.

“Good at what?”

“Making a girl feel seen,” you teased, though your voice was softer than usual. “Careful, hero. You keep this up, and I might start thinking you actually like me.”

Ekko chuckled, leaning back against the bench. “Maybe I do.”

You blinked, clearly not expecting him to admit it so easily. “You don’t scare easy, do you?”

“Not when it comes to you,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

For the first time, you didn’t have a quick retort. Instead, you leaned back, the tension in your shoulders easing as you let out a quiet sigh.

“Alright, Ekko,” you said, your voice light but sincere. “You think you can handle me? Let’s see if you’re about it.”

He grinned, pulling out his phone and holding it up like a microphone. “I’m ready for the interview. First question— how does it feel to be the most smartest caring girl on this lousy ass planet?”

You burst out laughing, swatting at his arm. “Shut up!”

“Not until you answer!”

And just like that, the heaviness between you melted away. The two of you stayed in the park for hours, talking about everything and nothing, stealing chips from each other’s bag, and daring the city to try and interrupt.

Because if ekko couldn't see anything he'd always will see you.

Ahhh i love him sm👌🏾👌🏾 i wrote this one for the non gay gyals hopefully theyll enjoy it

[s0fter-sin]

trans!soap taking his baby and running away from his rich abusive husband

(cw angst, financial abuse, single threat of child abuse, single mention of transphobia)

he's owned soap for years, since he was a teenager; paid for his medication and all his surgeries and tied them so deeply, soap’s lost hope of ever getting away. he gets even worse when soap falls pregnant. he was always controlling; blowing up at him if he spent too long out of the house or did something without telling him. but he becomes utterly possessive during the pregnancy

soap knows it has nothing to do with his safety or the baby's

he knows he sees his baby as an investment; another being he can control and hold over him

he gets worse and worse but there’s nothing soap can do. there's been nothing he can do for a long time. then a few months after the baby is born, soap doesn’t watch his tone closely enough and his husband threatens to drop his baby in punishment for it

soap doesn't think. he doesn't plan

he takes his baby and runs

he sneaks out of the servant's quarters of the sterile mansion he's been forced to live in for almost a decade and walks down the street without a backwards glance; his baby the only thing in his arms. he knows all of his husband's cars have trackers, all of them in his name since he never lets soap drive or go anywhere by himself, so he walks far enough to be out of view of the mansion's cameras and steals one. it doesn't have a car seat and all he can do is clutch his baby to his chest as he drives

he doesn't know where he's going beyond away

he doesn't know what he's going to do; he doesn't have any money, no supplies for his baby, he doesn't even have water for himself so he can reliably breastfeed him. he's terrified his husband will find them; he’s always felt omniscient, always everywhere and seeing everything he did. if he didn’t have eyes somewhere, he paid someone who did and they always dutifully reported back to him

soap just keeps his eyes forward. just keeps driving and driving, lost to the road and numb until the low gas light pops up on the dash and it all hits him at once

he turns into a gas station he can't pay for, in a car he stole, and parks behind it and his baby immediately starts getting fussy

he can't even call him by his name sometimes; too afraid to get attached, too afraid to lose him. as if he doesn’t love him more than life itself

even throughout his pregnancy, as happy as he was to finally have a baby, he didn't know if he could carry to term and that fear just let his husband dig his claws in even deeper; paying for extra scans he could never hope to pay for, favours on top of favours so he would aways owe him and isn’t he such a loving husband? taking soap in when his parents kicked him out for being trans, looking after him for all these years? you can’t even take care of yourself john, you’d still be a woman without me, john, what is this tantrum about john-

soap tugs his shirt up to let his baby feed, drops his head back and cries

he can't stop it; wails loud and uncontrolled, chest heaving with his sobs enough that it sways his baby, occasionally breaking his latch and he can't even do this right-

he can't save him

a light knock sounds on the window and soap flinches, curling over his baby to protect him from his huband's cruel hands

but it's not his husband outside the window

soap blinks tears from his eyes and looks at the large stranger standing beside the car. a neck gaiter covers his mouth and it should be off-putting… but something about him stops the feeling in its tracks. the stranger takes a half-step back and lifts a chilled and sealed water bottle, pressing it towards the window

soap quickly swipes his face clean and rolls down the window. "sorry 'bout that," he apologises with a choked laugh, the careful front he’s built over the years cracked and bleeding

the stranger gives a dismissive but somehow not diminishing shrug. "long day?" he asks

"could say that," he gives a shrug of his own and pats his baby's back as he makes a disgruntled noise, unconsciously swaying him

he politely keeps his gaze up on his face. "looks like you could use a break."

soap's breath hitches, anxiously darting his tongue out over his bottom lip. "could say that," he repeats uselessly and takes the water with a quiet “thanks,”; his throat dry and screaming for it after crying so hard

the stranger hums, watching him down the bottle and soap doesn’t notice his eyes drifting to the backseat and footwell of the passenger side. doesn’t notice the slight tension in his fists at what he sees. "how long you been runnin', lad?"

soap freezes, the water settling in his stomach like a stone. he swallows thickly and the bottle falls from his lips

"not long enough."

the stranger just nods, looking idly back down the highway

"you know, this place is connected to a garage,” he starts, nodding back to a building attached to the station without taking his eyes off the road. “lotta people drift through 'ere on road trips; too many to keep track.”

soap frowns slightly, shifting his hold on his baby

“funny thing is, plenty of 'em just abandon their car when they break down. like yours,” he adds and finally turns back to him with a pointed look. “got a whole junkyard of 'em. just rustin' away. be pretty easy to convince me to trade ya one."

soap’s mouth parts in a gasp as he realises just what the stranger’s saying. "how easy?" he whispers

he shrugs and even with his face hidden beneath the gaiter, he doesn’t feel afraid. "i'd say this car'd be a good deal. would blend right in with the rest of ‘em; no one’d ever notice it. what say i take it off your hands?"

soap's breath shudders out of him, his whole body going limp with relief. his baby's eyes fall shut with a satisfied hum and for the first time he can remember, he feels the gentle touch of hope

"i think we can work something out."

🧼💀

ghost owns the service station soap pulled into. he wanted something quiet and isolated after he retired and you can’t get much quieter than a backwoods servo surrounded by forest. he hasn’t had anyone pull in in days so he’s quick to notice soap’s car. he’s also quick to notice soap's subsequent breakdown in one of the cameras. the sight of him crying, desperately clutching a baby like they’re all he has left in the world, is so familiar he felt sick with it

he knows someone running when he sees it

if he didn't check on him, if this lad disappeared one day and the baby along with him, he'd never forgive himself. the lad doesn't even have a baby bag or car seat with him, and the personalised sticker on the back window of a lady and a dog is a dead giveaway that the car is stolen

but the lad is terrified. and when he startled him, he didn't turn. didn’t lift his arms to protect himself. no

he covered his baby

like he was afraid he'd be hurt

that's enough for ghost

🧼💀

i'd wanna set this in the 80's or 90's, just to make it even harder for soap to get away from his husband. he's a trans man with a newborn; he has no one to run to and no resources to help him. his husband's bought and paid for everything for him since he was 17; a few whirlwind weeks of unbelievable dates and extravagant gifts and he was living in his mansion, getting married the day after his 18th birthday. he thought it was love. thought he was being looked after and cared for the way he’s always wanted

he was in pain and alone and naive enough to believe the first person who came along and promised to make it better. nothing's in his name, not his insurance or his meds, he doesn’t have a bank account or savings; other than a birth certificate, nothing even ties him to his baby. his husband could take his world away from him with a snap of his fingers and he made sure soap always knew it

he never had a chance of getting away

but ghost is ex-military

he doesn’t know the lad’s story, doesn’t know the details of what he’s running from. he doesn’t need to know

he decided he was helping him the second he pulled into his service station

[seat-safety-switch]

Every time it snows, I see lots of people who are terrified to operate their cars. This is poppycock, and originates from the media trying to force fear into your brain so that you stay home for a few more minutes to watch the morning traffic report and, oh, just a coincidence that it comes with a ton more ads. Stay Afraid. Buy Oreos®.

Winter driving is all about momentum. You keep your car moving, perform only gentle adjustments, and pay attention. Above all, you must not make any abrupt movements. This will unsettle the car, and then you'll careen towards a ditch, bus stop, or ballet recital. Important: allow thing to happen slowly, without your direct involvement. Freaking out and starting to chop at the wheel because you didn't get a prompt response to your last gentle input is what a toddler would do, and that's why only certain states let them drive.

Think of yourself as being engaged in the proud Canadian sport known as curling. In it, someone throws a rock down an icy slope, and some other suckers pretend to do anything at all by rapidly sweeping their brooms in front of it. Those frozen janitors are not allowed to touch the rock, because doing so will cause it to fly out of control and kill someone. When driving, you want to be the person throwing the rock, not the person frantically sweeping for no reason before accidentally maiming a cameraman from the CBC.

Whenever it snows, the first thing I do is head to the local giant parking lot. There, I can safely practice losing and regaining control of my car in the snow, without worrying about smacking a pedestrian or highway abutment. Critically, it's here that I also figure out what new holes in the cabin are letting water in. This lets me stop, get out, and apply duct tape at my leisure, rather than stewing in reflected road juices for my entire commute to work. That last part may not apply to you: for instance, you might be rich enough to be able to put marine-grade caulk or even Bondo over the rust holes in your car's floor.

If there's only one thing I can leave you with, it's this: don't panic. Like I said, tensing up and jerking around the car is only going to make things worse for everyone else on the road. Instead, let things happen. Be chill. Make sure you've got enough gas and maybe a sandwich on hand. Take a break if you've been pushing through traffic for hours. And above all, do not put an album by The Prodigy into your stereo system and then rip through red lights, completely sideways, banging off the rev limiter as you engage in icy doughnut after doughnut, just because you bought studded winter tires and have a generalized contempt for society at large. My attorney thought adding that last part would help with negotiating the plea bargain.

[neontiger]

~♡~ under the mask ~♡~

MDNI 18+

In which you meet the Red Hood in a dark alley ♡ semi-public sex ~ hand, meet throat ~ reblogs are very welcome ~ thank you and much love ♡♡♡

☽ ~ ♡♡♡ ~ ☾

The streets of Gotham have been unwelcoming since the first brick was laid. It's as hostile as any other city, maybe a little more considering the ilk who call it home – but that has never mattered to you. You're born and bred. The city is in your blood.

So you walk with confidence (and pepper spray) out of your late shift and into the night. Downtown at eleven Gotham is still buzzing underneath the watchful eye of the full moon. There's a healthy crowd around you, people getting off work, going home, others going out for the night. You're definitely part of the former, aching from being on your feet the past six hours.

A right turn then a left leads to quieter streets. Homes and businesses closed for the night. Cars zip past at random intervals. Streetlights and the beer signs in the window of the corner store illuminate the path ahead of you. Alleys are dark recesses, filled with shadows and the unknown.

There's the slightest chill in the air, enough to make the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You stop and glance back to the light of the corner shop, but there's nobody. It's just a feeling; that's what you get for walking home instead of taking the subway like a sane person.

Walk faster. You continue, hurrying as nonchalantly as you can through the half-dark. A crash comes from an alley and you freeze. The meow comes right after, but it doesn't slow the beat of your overactive heart.

Neither does the figure standing just inside the shadows of the alley to your right. Silent, arms crossed, watching. All you can make out is a bit of an arm and some red, but the shape of the figure is familiar.

Your stomach knots and a warmth floods your core. The game's hardly begun and you're already a mess.

The man tilts his head just into the light, enough for you to make out the red half-mask, the rest of his face obscured by a red hood. He's tall, and the parts of him you can make out are honed and muscled; he could pick you up and throw you over his shoulder like nothing, you know.

“You know it's not safe to be walking alone at night,” he says.

Your body can't decide if it's cold or hot. Hands shivering, cheeks flushed, you answer with a voice forced steady. “I can take care of myself.”

He moves faster than you can see, grabs you by the waist --you almost scream but choke on the sound when you remember that it's not real. You don't want to ruin the game.

Back against the rough wall of the alley, Jason stands over you in the darkness. You blink your eyes and force them to adjust so you can drink him in while dressed in the uniform reserved for patrolling the streets – he thought the fantasy was cute – half-mask, hooded, heavy boots, that belt that looks like it might be useful for tying you up…

He wraps a gloved hand around your throat while the other trails up your thigh. The leather is coarse against your skin as it slips under the hem of your dress. Heat pools in the pit of your stomach as you lose track of your breathing on the inhale. His hand on your throat tightens slightly as he leans in.

A finger makes a small circle on the inside of your thigh. You part your legs for him; the move is like taking a breath, something your body simply knows and does without thinking. The fingers move to the outside and grip your thigh to lift and open you further, making room for him.

Your mind flutters all over the place, to where else those hands have been, what they've been forced to do, how they've hurt and been hurt. His breathing is soft behind the mask, barely heard, his forehead pressed to the side of your head.

Those fingers continue. They grip the fat of your thigh just under your ass, pinch at the fabric of your panties. He can't see but he can feel that they're the pair he likes, the bright red lacy ones, with the little bow front and center. He moans softly, nuzzling against your neck. The mask is hard. Uncomfortable.

You reach a hand to where the mask is clipped and undo it. Jason picks his head up, says nothing, but removes the mask and lets it drop. The domino mask remains, obscuring his eyes from view.

Lips free, they find your neck, start slow with soft kisses peppered against your throat. The hand previously on your neck makes a path down ward and stops at your chest to pull down the already too low neckline of your fitted black dress – another favorite of his – to cup your breast.

“Fuck,” Jason groans, the word buried against your neck. Your arch into his touch, the rough leather creating a friction that immediately brings your nipple to attention. Inadvertently – maybe – you rub against his clothed election, straining against the fabric of his pants. This time he growls, nips at your neck. The second move is purposeful as you grind against him again.

His hands leave and move; grab and turn you roughly, force you to face the wall. Cold air bites your ass as your panties are ripped down to your knees and your dress is shoved up. You gasp – keep it down, you remind yourself – as two ungloved fingers sink inside your heat.

Jason grabs your hair and roughly pulls the strands to the side to kiss the back of your neck. “Already ready for me?” He curves his fingers deep inside, prompting you to tighten around him. “Good girl.”

You whimper, push back against his hand, but he pulls his fingers free. Between your thighs it's cold and wet, aching and desperate.

The clinking of his belt makes you whine again. He squeezes your ass as he undoes the front of his pants. Gives it a light smack as he shoves them down enough to pull himself free. You curl your fingers against the brick of the building and ground yourself as he grabs your hip. You’re on your toes to meet him as he prods your entrance, panties keeping your legs the perfect distance apart for him.

On a good night – a night shared in bed, under covers, where you could both take your time to explore the other’s body – he would not do what he does now, which is bury himself to the hilt in one hard thrust that fills your vision with stars. You cry out before his hand covers your mouth. He grinds inside you, a short, prodding thrust that presses that weak spot inside you.

“Shh.” He kisses your ear. “Somebody might hear. Are you trying to get caught?”

You shake your head, mumble no against his palm.

Still he doesn’t believe you, and his hand remains on your mouth. His body melts to yours as the hand on your hip slips between your thighs and gives your clit a light pinch. His thrusts are short, reserved – aimed exactly at that spot that he knows will undo you.

You tremble in his arms wrapped around you. If it wasn’t for them you’d be a puddle on the concrete. Your knees shake, almost too weak to support you, and he’s only just begun…his pants in your ear revealing just how much he’s holding back from destroying you in this alley while people walk past on the sidewalk only a few steps away.

More. “Jason,” you whine, muffled. You press back against him and force him harder inside you. He grunts as he meets the move with one of his own, pulling back further to slam into you.

“Needy.” He lifts your chin to bite your neck. You grind against him, make circles on his cock and tighten, urge him to fill and fuck you – to stop fucking teasing.

He frees your mouth. “Hands on the wall,” he says. “Hold on.”

You listen, flatten your hands onto the wall, as he adjusts and bends you to shape. Bent for him, his hands secure on your hips –

It’s impossible not to cry out. You’re too blissed out to care.

He fucks into you without abandon. Pulls almost entirely out, gives you half a breath to mourn the loss of him, before he slams into your starving cunt again and again and again. Those weak knees from before have completely given out, and without him you’d be scraping your face on the brick, but you hold on as he fucks you up that peak of pleasure. You moan, loud enough for the people inside the building to hear.

He smacks your ass. You whine, loudly again – another smack. You can’t be bothered to care that he’s punishing you, or maybe he’s not, maybe he knows you like it – this was your idea. You wanted this. Fucked by the man himself – bent over in an alley by the Red Hood.

Jason groans, a strangled fuck. His rhythm becomes erratic, some thrusts stretched out to prolong both your pleasures, quickened because he knows the two of you can’t stay here forever. He’s close.

You whimper, whine, as the knot inside snaps. Drips down your thighs as his end meets yours. His hands tighten on your hips hard enough to leave bruises – bruises you’ll see later that will drive you wild – and he leans forward to bury his face in your neck, to hide how out of breath he is against your skin.

You crumple back against him, and the two of you stay like that, locked together with your combined mess, for only a few minutes.

A minute is long in a cold, dark alley.

Finally, Jason pulls free from you with a sigh. You try to reach down to fix your panties but he has them first, and thank God he does because you probably would’ve fallen over. You lean back against the wall as he fixes his pants.

He smiles. With the domino mask obscuring his eyes, it’s charming, in a dark way.

Swallowing your beating heart, you have to look away for a moment, or else you’ll both be stuck in this alley forever.

He squats down to retrieve his mask and gives a playful kiss to your sore thigh. He looks up at you with that smirk on his face, the one you can't resist.

“You know, it's a pretty quiet night.” He kisses your other thigh, still looking up at you. “I don't have anywhere to be if you want to…keep this going.”

How good that sounds, but another fucking from him will render you completely unable to walk and you really don't want to sleep in the alley. You take his hands and guide him back to his feet.

“How about you come investigate my place?” You wrap your arms around the waist, and he hugs your shoulders.

“I could do that,” Jason says. “What sort of problems are you having?”

“Leaky pipes.” You laugh as you say it, which is enough for him. He steals the laugh with a kiss, a slip of tongue on tongue. On the street, a car horn sounds.

“I'll give you a ride home,” he says. “It really isn't safe. You know that, right?” There's genuine worry in his words.

“Not even with you cleaning the streets?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry. I'll try my hardest for you.”

You brush your thumb on his cheek as you kiss him a final time before the two of you leave the alley. It's barely midnight. Still early.

You pull on his helmet before climbing behind him on his sport bike, bright red and flashy. He checks your hold, making sure your arms are tight around him before he carries both of you into the night.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

fem sugar mommy!plus size reader, wc: 539.

a/n: HEYYY so i was just rewatching criminal minds and was forced to bear witness to spencer's addiction, and i couldn't help but think 'hey, spencer deserves to be spoiled because he can't catch a break ever' and alas, here this fic is!!

There's a welcome sort of chill.

Spencer's a mix of a little tired and a little damp with sweat. It was pretty warm in the bar, and certainly all of his layers didn't help. So, the breeze was a welcome reprieve.

His clothing isn't usually this heavy, but most of the material is made of good quality. It's not that Spencer's clothing isn't nice, but they aren't this expensive.

Spencer tightened the Burberry checkered scarf around his neck, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his brown slacks.

The rest of his team clambered out behind him all kinds of inebriated. The most sober being Aaron, seeing as though he turns to look at the Doctor.

“Do you need a ride?” He offers, taking in the fact that Spencer's blinks are a little slower, and he's swaying a bit on his feet.

“Oh, ah – no,” Spencer tucks a lock of loose hair behind his ear. “My uh – my ride’s on the way.” 

“Do you want us to wait with you?” Emily asks, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

His team was always like this when they went out drinking; touchy and protective. It was nice.

“She shouldn't be too long –” Just as he spoke, the sound of a loud, rumbling engine of a sports car sounded just down the road. 

Spencer flushed because of the noise. God, he hated when you did that.

Your hot pink roofless Lamborghini soared into view, stopping in front of him with a soundless screech.

“Hi there, Sugar Bear!” You called out from the driver's seat.

You looked flawless as always, besides it being well into the evening, your appearance was nothing short of perfection. Not a hair out of place or a wrinkle on your shirt.

His.

A pretty red hue spreads from the tips of his ears down his neck, the rest of it hidden under the clothes that you had bought him.

“Hi,” His greeting was breathless, but his eyes held stars as he peered at you.

You raise a brow at him, gesturing to the others standing behind him with your eyes. Strict.

“Oh, uh, thank you guys for waiting with me.” Spencer follows your silent command obediently - albeit sheepishly - his words a bit slurred. 

Everyone looks gobsmacked by your presence, and you're sure that if they were anything close to sober, they'd be showering him with questions.

Aaron, always being the voice of reason, of course, was the one to break the disbelieving tension.

“It was no problem. Drive safe, alright?” The second half was meant for you, seeing as though it was dripping with amusement.

“Of - of course.” 

Bidding them one last goodbye, Spencer opened the door to the passenger seat, closing it behind him softly. 

As his team dispersed to their own modes of transportation, you tucked a finger under his chin, guiding him into a kiss.

His eyes fluttered closed easily, allowing his fuzzy mind to grow even foggier under your touches. Your tongue swipes at his bottom lip, teasing, but not actually intending to deepen it.

When you pull away, most of your lipstick is gone, most likely transferred onto his face.

“‘Hi’ what?” You all but purr, fingers still gripping him.

“Hi, mommy.”

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 3 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW: All hail severely traumatized Reader.

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

The moment you stepped out of the Hanging Gardens, the city of Seoul came crashing into your senses. The bustling noise, the chatter of strangers, the blaring car horns—it was overwhelming. After so many years surrounded only by the whispering leaves and the sound of distant waterfalls in your domain, this city felt like a whole other world. Yet, you had no time to marvel at it.

Your first thought was him. The young hunter who, in the original story, would one day transform from the weakest E-rank hunter to the world’s most formidable force. You had seen his journey play out on the pages of a manhwa, and even though this was your reality now, you still thought of it as a story. Perhaps that was the only way you could cope.

Jinwoo. The name was a whisper in your mind, a mantra you repeated as you sent out your butterflies to search for him. They flitted into the sky, through alleyways, dodged bustling crowds, and skimmed across rooftops, invisible to everyone but you, its compound eyes transmitting a dizzying aerial view of the city straight to your mind. You kept your focus tight, pushing down the nerves that gnawed at your stomach.

But your search was interrupted by a sudden shift in the air around you. The city's mood had changed in an instant. People on the street stopped, their heads turning upwards, eyes glued to the enormous screens on the skyscrapers. As the images on the screen flickered into view, a chill you down your spine.

It was chaos. The screens showed devastation—images of buildings crumbling, fire and smoke engulfing the skyline, and a massive gate that loomed ominously above it all.

The first S-rank gate—the one from which Kamish, soon to be the most feared dragon in history, first emerged. You stood frozen, your eyes widening as the scenes played out in real-time.

“No…” You breathed out, barely a whisper, your hands shaking.

Even watching it on the screen was entirely different from reading about it on the pages of the manhwa. It was real now. Too real. The ground beneath you seemed to tilt as civilians screamed and hunters rushed into action. The casualties. Oh God, the casualties. The sight of corpses being pulled from rubble, the screams and cries of civilians and hunters alike echoed through your mind long after the broadcast ended. The dread spread through you like ice.

If I’d just managed to get out sooner, you thought, the guilt and horror churning in your stomach. If I’d escaped the Gardens just a year earlier, or even a few months…

Surely you couldn’t have stopped the gate from opening, but could you have evacuated more people? Shielded them with your powers? Reduced the casualties? Your mind raced with possibilities, spiraling in your inability to actively turn back time in a scale that large.

Could I have made a difference? Could I have saved even a single life?

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, heart pounding. The "what ifs" started to spiral, pulling you deeper into a pit of guilt and self-recrimination. Your fingers dug into your palms as you tried to regain control. Just as the world around you blurred from the tears stinging your eyes, there was a gentle nudge at the edge of your consciousness, yet the swirling visions just made you want to empty out your stomach.

Through your shared vision with the butterfly, there he was, younger than you expected— around sixteen or seventeen, a teenager, though he looked like he’d grown up too fast. His frame was slimmer, not yet the broad-shouldered man you knew he’d become. He was dressed in a faded school uniform, his eyes carrying the weariness of someone who had already seen too much. The lines of his face were taut with worry, a haunted look lurking in his gaze. An expression you’d often seen through the pages, etched into his older self.

You swallowed hard, your fingers trembling. If…If I had been here sooner, would things have been different for you?

Your mind wandered to another possibility—his father. Would you have been able to prevent the disappearance of Sung Il-Hwan if you’d arrived two years earlier? Could you have kept Jinwoo from bearing the weight of that loss, the look of pain he now wore like a permanent scar?

Though his mother was still with him now, you could see the faint shadow of the pain he carried even now. Could you have helped him avoid the countless sleepless nights, the burden he’d shouldered in silence for years?

But reality was harsh, and you couldn’t change the past. A hollow ache settled deep inside you, thoughts haunted you, sticking like thorns in your mind.

---

The following years were a blur of watching from the shadows, helping where you could without being noticed. You couldn’t save everyone, but you could lessen the burdens on the boy you had grown to care for. The butterflies you sent to heal his mother and alleviate her pain seemed to help, if only a little. But that look—that haunted, broken look in Jinwoo’s eyes whenever he thought no one was watching—it gnawed at your heart.

It was during one of those quiet nights, as Jinwoo and the rest of the world slept soundly, that you decided to take a more desperate measure. Jinwoo’s mother was showing signs of the dreaded Eternal Sleep disease, the same way she had in the manhwa. You had placed a protective spell around her to shield her from excessive mana exposure, but it hadn’t been enough.

No, not again... please, not again. You couldn't bear it. You refused to let Jinwoo suffer the same pain twice.

There has to be a way to save her, you thought, teeth clenched. The pages of the manhwa didn’t reveal much about Eternal Sleep, but you took a gamble. If exposure to mana was the cause, then maybe you could draw the mana out of her system.

The hospital was quiet that night, the corridors bathed in a cold, sterile glow. You slipped in under the cover of darkness, cloaking yourself and the room in an illusion. Her face was pale and serene, and she seemed to hover somewhere between sleep and consciousness, untouched by the turmoil around her.

You took a steadying breath, summoning the butterflies close and feeling their power surge within you. Your children hovered around her bed; their wings softly glowing as they began to absorb the excess mana from her frail body.

“Please… let this work,” you whispered.

Focusing on your intent, you reached out with your healing magic, channeling the butterflies to draw mana out of her body. It was delicate work, like trying to remove poison from a deep wound without disturbing the tissue around it. Sweat trickled down your temple as you focused, your hands trembling with the effort. You could feel it working; her breathing grew steadier, the tension in her muscles slowly unwinding.

“Yes, yes… this is working…” you whispered to yourself. Little by little, traces of mana were being drawn away from her, and with every second, your heart beat faster with hope for the first time in years.

But then, as if someone had flipped a switch, everything came crashing down.

[Warning! Trial Player is not permitted to alter this part of the storyline.]

The system’s notification blarred before your eyes in blinding red text. You shook your head, gritting your teeth.

“No, no! I can’t stop now! Just a little more and she’ll—” You breathed, ignoring it, pushing yourself harder. You could feel the system’s cold disapproval as it listed penalties— deductions in your stats, loss of your domain privileges, even the risk of a forced expulsion back to the Gardens, warnings, threats, each one harsher than the last. But you didn’t care. If there was a chance, even the slightest one, that Jinwoo could have his mother healthy and safe, you’d risk any penalty.

[Initiating first protocol: Trial Player is restricted from interfering with main events.]

“No! Please!” You screamed in your mind, pushing harder, trying to siphon the last remnants of mana from her body. An invisible force tightened around you, harsh and unyielding. It was like trying to wade through thick mud, each step harder than the last, until finally, the force slammed into you, and you were thrown back, the butterflies flung away from you as the spell shattered.

Your body hit the wall with a sickening thud. You let out a gasp, clutching your ribs as you tried to regain your balance. An invisible barrier had been erected between you and Jinwoo’s mother, solid and unyielding. Your butterflies fluttered helplessly against it, unable to pass through.

“No… No, no, no!” you screamed, cried, banging and clawing against the barrier until your hands were raw and bleeding. But it wouldn’t budge. The tears blurring your vision and cascaded down your cheeks in rivulets.

The system’s cold, unfeeling voice echoed in your mind. You couldn’t register the subtle unfamiliar desperation other than your own. [Trial Player, cease all attempts to alter key story events, or face permanent penalties.]

A sob tore from your throat as you slid to the ground, your shoulders shaking. “Please,” you sobbed, your forehead pressed against the barrier. “Please, let me help her...”

The silence a sledgehammer that you had failed. All your efforts, your desperate attempts to change the course of events, had been for nothing. The realization hit you like a knife to the gut.

No matter how much you tried, no matter how desperately you wished to change things for the better, the system wouldn’t allow it. It had let you toy with minor events, heal minor wounds, but when it came to the story’s crucial turning points, you were powerless.

The what-ifs that had haunted you since you’d first stepped into this world were answered in the cruelest way. Even if you had left the Hanging Gardens sooner, even if you had arrived in time to save Jinwoo’s father or cure his mother, you would have been stopped.

For the second time since you had been isekai’d, you felt utterly, hopelessly trapped. You were no longer a player with some semblance of control. For all your power, for all your knowledge of the future, you were nothing more than a helpless spectator to a story that would unfold exactly as it had always meant to. You were a mere observer, bound to the whims of a story you could never truly change.

All you could do was watch, from the shadows, as the boy you loved continued to suffer. As something inside you continued to crack.

You drew your knees to your chest, burying your face in your arms, letting the sobs wrack your body. For once, you let yourself feel the weight of your powerlessness, the despair that had been building in your heart for years.

In the darkness of that hospital room, the weight settled over you like a suffocating blanket. And all you could do was cry. This was no longer the story you had loved. This was your reality. And you were utterly powerless to change it.

---

You stumbled out of the hospital, numb and hollow, the world blurring around you. The voices of passing strangers, the hum of distant traffic—it all faded, leaving only an aching silence in your heart. You wandered without aim, letting the sorrow settle, the bitter knowledge clawing at you. How many years had you spent dreaming of a way to help him, of a way to change his fate? And for what?

Back in the Hanging Gardens, you’d felt trapped and powerless, but there had always been hope. Now, that last ember was snuffed out, leaving only darkness in its place.

As you returned to your hidden space in the city, you couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness. It was like a familiar, cruel reminder of your first days in the Gardens, alone, struggling to survive in a world that hadn’t wanted you. And now, here you were again, unable to do anything but watch as the story unfolded as if you were still on the outside.

-----

The city had begun to grow familiar over the years, but the feeling of unease and disquiet never truly left. In this world of hunters, dungeons, and chaos, you weren’t exactly a normal citizen, though you’d tried your best to blend in. You made a life here, a life woven carefully to avoid standing out, hiding a fraction of your power and even more of your knowledge.

The first step to living a new life in this world was a matter of practicality: identity. You needed to establish yourself as a citizen of Seoul. But just as you were puzzling over how to manage something as complex as legal documents, the system—your ever-watchful, omnipotent shadow—seemed to have anticipated your needs.

You stared down at your supposedly birth certificate and identification card, your name printed clearly beneath a picture of a face that felt both like yours and... not. Relief was short-lived, turning to a sickening churn in your stomach. What happened to her? The question gnawed at you in quiet moments. This girl, this "you" of this world, had her life been erased to make room for your presence? Had she died before you arrived? Or, worse yet, had she been destined to die, and the system had simply taken advantage?

You tried to ask the system directly. “What happened to... the original?” you whispered, feeling a tremor in your voice. But, predictably, the system remained silent, its screen blinking away without an answer.

It left you with grim speculations. The more you thought about it, the more it felt like a noose tightening around your conscience. On sleepless nights, the thought haunted you: somewhere, in some unmarked corner of this world, the original (Name) might be lying forgotten.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to the wind one night, your voice barely audible. You were sitting in the Hanging Gardens, surrounded by the flowers you’d nurtured into bloom with your magic. The air was filled with the scent of roses and jasmine, a comforting balm against your troubled mind. “I promise... I’ll make a place for you here.” A way to remember her in the only way you could.

When you had a rare moment of free time, you returned to the depths of the Gardens. Deep within its heart, you found a secluded spot, a quiet clearing where the sunlight filtered through leaves, casting gentle dappled shadows. It was here that you began to build a small tomb, using stones and flowers enchanted with your magic.

It took days to finish. You poured your heart into it, weaving protective wards and spells into every petal, every blade of grass. You carved her name—your name, really—and when it was done, you placed a simple plaque: For the one who came before me. May you find peace.

Your hands clasped together; you couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over. This was your way of making amends, a fragile attempt to honor a life you had never known.

You stood there for a long while, the only sound the gentle rustling of your butterfly summons as they hovered, curious yet respectful.

“Thank you,” you whispered, not sure who you were even speaking to. Was it gratitude for the life you now had, or a farewell to the life you’d unknowingly taken?

---

After sorting out your papers and putting that grim thought to rest, you turned to the next task: becoming a hunter. You needed a way to sell the monster drops from your domain without drawing too much attention. Those materials were too valuable to ignore, and your stash from the Hanging Gardens had been growing, with enchanted trinkets and rare plants you’d carefully cultivated over the years.

With your identity settled, the next task was securing your place in this new world. You needed to establish yourself as a hunter, and quickly. The aftermath of the catastrophic gate and Kamish’s rampage had left the world desperate for capable hunters. S-rank hunters had fallen, and fear gripped the public. What if another gate like that one appeared? What then?

The Hunter Association was overrun with applications, both from hopefuls and seasoned hunters alike, eager to prove their worth. You knew your capabilities exceeded those of even high-rank hunters, but revealing your full power would draw unwanted attention. The last thing you needed was to be a target for the Hunter Bureau or one of the powerful guilds that dominated South Korea’s hunter landscape.

Suppressing your powers took everything you had. It was like trying to hold back a tidal wave with nothing but your bare hands. But you managed. After a few practice sessions cloaked in the safety of the Hanging Gardens, you learned how to cloak your true strength, masking it just enough to appear as a C-rank healer.

The evaluation day was chaotic, with hunters and administrators bustling around, trying to keep things moving. You stood in line, trying to ignore the stares from the other applicants. You kept your head down, focusing on the role you had to play.

“Next, please!” the examiner called, gesturing you forward.

You stepped up to the designated area. The sensation of being probed by the assessment device was unpleasant, like icy fingers brushing against your soul. But you kept your facade intact, holding your breath as the machine beeped.

“C-rank healer,” the examiner announced with a bored tone, scribbling notes on his clipboard.

You let out a silent sigh of relief, bowing politely before making a swift exit. You could feel the weight of curious eyes on your back, but no one suspected a thing.

Joining the South Korea Hunter Association was easy after that. You chose not to align yourself with any guild, instead opting to work freelance. It allowed you the freedom to pick your own missions and, more importantly, to avoid too much scrutiny. The Association didn’t question it, relieved to have another willing hunter, especially one with healing skills.

After a few raids, you gradually established a rhythm, selling a select number of drops at the hunters' markets. You kept the powerful materials for yourself, knowing the enchanted items might raise suspicions. The influx of funds was just what you needed.

----

The money you earned was enough to set up a modest business, a modest storefront on the quieter side of town, far from the bustling commercial districts. It was a charming space with large windows that let in ample sunlight. Perfect for what you had in mind.

A flower shop.

It was a simple concept—a quaint little greenhouse-inspired shop, cozy and serene, with butterflies fluttering gently around the blooms. Your years of cultivating exotic flowers to look like their normal counterparts in the Hanging Gardens paid off. Your magical influence made the flowers not only bloom faster but also granted them subtle enhancements, flowers that brought calm or clarity, leaves that eased headaches, petals that had slight rejuvenating properties, and much more.

The enchantments were soft, just enough to go unnoticed by hunters who occasionally stopped by, curious about the whispers of a shop with “enchanted” flowers. To manage the flow of clients, you eventually made the shop private, requiring customers to book appointments. Word of mouth spread quickly, though, and you found yourself busier than you’d anticipated.

One afternoon, as you were tending to a particularly finicky flower that required a touch of magic to bloom, a young girl entered the shop, holding her mother’s hand. Their wide eyes taking in the quiet, verdant space with wonder. The mother glanced at the butterflies resting on flower petals and the leaves that shimmered in soft hues.

“Mom, look! The flowers are glowing!” she exclaimed, eyes wide with childish excitement.

Her mother smiled and turned to you. “Hello,” she said with a nervous smile. “This place is… magical.”

You returned her smile, pleased with her reaction. “I’m glad you think so. What can I help you with today?”

She hesitated, fidgeting with the strap of her bag. “I… I heard about your flowers and, well… I’ve been feeling exhausted lately. I thought maybe something here might help?”

You nodded and led her over to a section of delicate white blooms. “These are calming flowers,” you explained. “You can put them by your bed, and they’ll help ease your mind while you sleep. Their scent is soothing and works wonders for stress.”

Her face lit up as she reached out, fingertips brushing the soft petals. “They’re perfect. I never thought flowers could… do that.”

“They’re a little special,” you said with a soft chuckle. “But sometimes, a touch of nature is all we need.”

“And this is for you little one.” You make a grand gesture, like a magician, and a pink carnation bloom in your hands. The girl eyes sparkled, and you took the chance to slip the flower behind her ear.

She and her mother left with a small bundle, the flowers carefully wrapped, and you watched them go, a sense of satisfaction warming you. You were making a life here, slowly but surely, even if there was still a shadow of loneliness lingering at the edges.

Over time, your shop became something of an oasis. People came not just for the flowers, but for the atmosphere, the butterflies drifting lazily through the air, the subtle scent of earth and blossoms mingling together. You overheard customers remark on how they felt better after just a few minutes in the space, how even just watching the butterflies was calming.

“Ah, it’s so peaceful in here,” A couple walked in one day, the man sighed as his partner looked around. His eyes widened as a butterfly landed on her hand, its tiny wings shimmering like fragments of stained glass. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“This place... it’s like stepping into another world.”

If only they knew.

You smiled warmly, handing him a bouquet wrapped in elegant paper. “They’re drawn to the scent of the flowers,” you explained. “It’s said that they bring good luck.”

One regular visitor was an elderly woman who came once a week to buy flowers for her husband’s grave. She’d chat with you while you wrapped her order, sharing stories of her late husband and their time together. She once remarked, “There’s something… kind about you, dear. It’s like you have a healing presence.”

You only nodded, humbled and slightly unnerved by her words. You didn’t feel like you deserved the praise—after all, you were only borrowing this life, this identity. But every time she left with her bouquet, she’d smile back, and you’d return it with a quiet, grateful nod.

And so, you continued on, living a borrowed life.

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [010/10/2024] - Welcome

[gangplanksorenji]

Kinknuary Day 6: Begging

Pairing: (G)I-DLE Yuqi x Male Reader

Word Count: 5,223

[Kinknuary Masterlist]

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“Yuqi, you can’t just buy everything you want—”

“But can’t you see? I have it all over me.” Yuqi brags about the plethora of shopping bags she’s carrying, knowing that it will slap you towards what she has mustered but you need to slap her back to reality. So, gripping her wrists and forcing herself to be in level with you, you glared at her, laced with venom as you’re not having this bratty attitude of hers.

“Listen here you little shit—you can’t buy anything of these without my money, so, you should be obedient about everything I say because my asshole doesn’t shit money and if it would, there’s a fucking limit, do you understand?”

It’s like Yuqi never knew about limitations as she will utilize what she can to get what she wants and you hate it yet there’s an optimistic side of this, is that, she’s doesn't force things out of your pocket because she rather begs for it until you agree and that’s your weakness—her, alone. Her charisma is off the roof, with even the people you pass by with her, some can’t help but get their attention stolen with Yuqi’s beauty as she’s glamorous as always and you can’t blame them with that.

Yet you know that enough is enough, and she should be taught a lesson even though it will fall deaf on her ears.

“But please—can I have at least shop for one more time, please??”

No matter how much she begs, or lures you in to play the game that definitely she’ll win, she won’t succeed with her current wants, leaving it only for her to imagine and not grasp it within her reach.

���I told you, Yuqi, we can’t—maybe someday—”

“Aish—you know what? It’s fine, I got what I needed anyway—can we just go home now?” Yuqi chides boredom as she doesn't get to succeed with her attempts, earning a faint smile on your face. She’s mildly irritated because of you—it’ll grow until it becomes unbearable to take—and you know she’s running out of options, so you took it as an advantage. 

“Why don’t we just go around the place and have some fun, Yuqi?”

“Shopping is damn tiring, you know that? I just want to go home…” You’re not falling for another trap just to fulfill and succumb to her possible needs, so you’re doing everything on your own power to convince her of your own wants instead of fulfilling hers—talk about being fair to each other which probably doesn’t exist in her dictionary. 

“But aren’t you feeling tired?”

Well, you've thought of enlightenment yourself—you're probably as tired as she is, as if walking for hours isn’t enough, then you don't know what is—and you’re afraid to agree with her. You don’t want to lie or make yourself a hypocrite towards her but it is the truth—you feel the enervation yourself and knowing you have the higher authority, you came up to a conclusion in order to close the continuous pleading and annoyance of Yuqi.

“You know what, let’s just go home since we’ve bought so many things today.”

“Ahh, yes! Thank god you agreed with me, daddy.”

Ah, the forbidden word has been used publicly and to think that someone may find it unorthodox, you quickly glared at her, wanting to shut her mouth up because of embarrassment.

“You better not call me that in public, Yuqi.”

“Or what? Are you gonna shut me up with your dick in my mouth—”

You grabbed her wrists and glared at her, this time, it’s much more intimidating and scarier, all laced with venom for her to stop. “God, be careful!”

You didn’t mind your reckless actions as you wanted to prove a point towards her.

“Shut your whore mouth or something’s going to happen to you, Yuqi.”

“Like what?” She confidently taunts you, knowing that you wouldn’t lay down a finger to her, let alone curse her with words full of lustful profanities in public.

“You know what—you’re going to get punished, Yuqi. Go to the car and let’s go home.” Your tone is demanding and stern, almost sending a chill down her spine but despite all of that, she hides a smile, knowing that she’ll soon be reaching that promised land she always wanted. Not wasting some time, she briskly walked towards the car, excited about what’s about to happen and little did she know, you have plans to truly teach her a lesson she won’t forget.

---

A bratty mind is hard to be penetrated with lessons as the iron wall defending is as strong as her ego, and you’re willing to break it yet, if it means for her to be deprived and on the urge of almost breaking that wall, then it’s going to be a successful attempt to teach her.

It’s not like it’s going to be hard—it would take some time because you know how Yuqi always loved you and your cock.

“You wanted to act tough, I’ll show you what’s tough.”

Without the profounded foreplay that she always liked and just being straight to the point, her helpless cries are ignored—bound to break her and truly submit into the abyss of the lowest points. With her wrists tied onto her back, herself in all fours and her clothing yanked off onto where it is—you didn’t where it was because it will be useless right now, no matter how she looked phenomenal with that outfit—her full, naked body is now display as you admire it and worship it, plating soft kisses onto her neck and the fondling of her small, perky mounds that makes Yuqi release such sounds that arouses both parties. 

“Can’t do anything, hm? This is what you get for acting such a bitch earlier.”

Yuqi whines uncontrollably within teases of your hands and lips, the sensitivity she feels now off the charts considering how she’s feeling deprived with her needs. You’d love to have her clothing on while teasing the living fuck out of her but this was probably way better than what you envisioned earlier. 

“But please, daddy—g-give me what I want…”

She’s straightforward and needy, you can see the desperation in her eyes yet you’ll let her know that everything should be earned and well-deserved. Well, asking her won’t give her anything but feed you information as she didn’t deserve anything, yet.

“What do you even want from me, Yuqi?” You ask her as she moans, struggling to answer back as the skillful display of talent was shown with the way you tease the labia of her wet cunt and the fondling of her small mounds. “You and y-your cock, daddy.”

You chuckled right after, feeling the lack of sincerity within her tone as her voice trembles, voicing her satisfaction as she lets you know that she wants you genuinely and nothing more.

“You don’t seem to be honest about that, Yuqi.”

“B-but I am, daddy! Please j-just please fuck me already. I didn’t strip a-and put on a show for—gahh—nothing, daddy.”

The audacity of this slut—it’s just mesmerizing that even with the utmost pleasure running down her veins, she manages to even retaliate back with disrespect and selfishness, and that further ignites the feeling of punishing her and teasing her. If she wants her needs to be fulfilled, she might have to be patient or beg for it.

“If you really want this cock—then beg for it, Yuqi.”

She looks at your eyes endearingly, her puppy-eyes really flicking the switch into you as she begs for everything that can make her reach her desired treasure. Her voice trembles as she feels nervous begging for you but it’s truly the ravishing essence—her full submission while being helpless to do anything is the hidden beauty and it’s such a beautiful sight.

“P-please, daddy—I’ll do everything—” Her orbs glistens with lust and anticipation, wanting you to oblige on her needs as you can’t seem to pull the trigger;

“—I w-want your cock—to t-tastes it and savor it—please, daddy—” And she mutters up such profanities that further arouses you, an attempt to let yourself gave in to your own carnal needs;

“—Please, daddy—I’ll be your g-good girl just please, I w-want it…” And there she goes—her one, final advancement towards her own needs and for the sake of your pleasure—to pick the lock that you’ve been abstaining and depriving her for.

With the way she begs like she had lost everything, starting from her refulgent puppy-eyes up to her pleading tone, you can’t help but give in to the temptation of fulfilling her needs—most likely your needs since you want to teach her a lesson by fucking that bitchy attitude out of her but not all starts from the climax, it must start with one hell of an exordium.

“You really want it, huh, Yuqi?” Yuqi didn’t hesitate to nod, further encouraging you onto fulfilling her desires. “Then go on your knees, you can do it yourself.”

It was hard to maneuver in Yuqi’s end but you didn’t care. She immediately thrusted herself up, her knees crawling backwards and off the bed, in order to stand up and to get on her knees. The visible struggle was there but she did it nonetheless, her submissive demeanor all for you to admire as she looks helpless with her hands tied onto her back. You then quickly undressed your bottom half—you’d probably make Yuqi to strip it off on you but with her hands tied up, you didn’t bother to kill the essence of an occurring punishment—as you can see Yuqi’s eyes lighting up in awe and hunger, gazing into your erect length like it’s a long-lost treasure she’s always been wanting to obtain and now it’s just a step closer within her mouth’s reach. You then sit down onto the side of the bed, spreading out your legs as you relax yourself to be close for comfort and then command Yuqi to unleash her own masterclass of a show.

“I assume you know what to do, slut.”

Yuqi inches herself closer to you as her face indicates such an analytical approach to your cock, mesmerized and possibly adoring your length as her doe-eyes scan every inch possible. She didn’t bother to tease you as her hands are deemed useless, now her mouth is doing the job of pleasuring you instead of anything else. She swirls her tongue onto your leaking slit that’s already doused with the infamous colorless liquid as she alternates her tongue actions with kisses that peppered around your shaft. You wouldn’t mind her lipstick smudging onto the base of your shaft as she takes you balls-deep in her mouth if it means to give you the utmost pleasure and it’s like she wouldn’t oblige to it—she even want it rough, always taking your whole length until she’s a disheveled, gagged-up mess. With the mouthwork she’s been servicing onto your now saliva-sheathed shaft, you can’t help but moan as she’s doing a great job considering the lack of her hands that could probably make everything better—you know how skillful her hands are; and just by the dexterity of her fingers on her handjobs onto the fondling of your balls, you couldn’t ask for anything more and with that though, you almost regretted tying her hands up but the main mission here is to punish her, deprive her on her needs on your own accord.

“God—your mouth, Yuqi—keep sucking me j-just like that. This bratty mouth feels good—we should’ve done this sooner.”

Of course, she can’t respond with her mouth full of your cock and she won’t even bother to—it was evident, knowing how much effort she’s been exerting on sucking you off seals the deal. The way her head bobs frantically and then burying her mouth balls-deep, her lips being in contact onto the soft skin at the base of your shaft (also add the constant gags that has been resonating around the room) is truly a hypnotic and an arousing sight—this feels too good to be true and you love every second of it. With her current pace, drool inevitably seeps out of her mouth as she doesn't mind the filthiness she’s been luring into as she minds servicing you with her mouth as she seizes the opportunity on her utmost capabilities. Now pulling out of your shaft to give herself a leverage to breathe, she asked you something that she shouldn’t be bothering to ask for as the answer would be obvious.

“Can I p-please suck your balls, daddy?”

“No one’s stopping you, Yuqi—go on.”

Yuqi now averts her attention towards your sensitive balls as she tongues it with care, not wanting to hurt you. To further assist her and to gradually keep up the pleasure you’ve been experiencing, you took your raging length and stroked yourself with the arousing look of Yuqi’s naked, submissive body as she laps your balls in aims to further stimulate you. It is damn working and she’s good at it, considering how her hands can’t really influence or make anything better, she’s doing a great job as every gentle suck onto each testicle earns a ragged moan escaping your lips. She takes this as a compliment as she sucks onto each ball with care as you stroke yourself in tandem with that, further maintaining the stimulation you once gave yourself into.

“Now suck me off again, Yuqi. I wanna see that pretty dick-sucking mouth at work again.”

“Of course, daddy.”

Yuqi returns her mouth onto your whole length again, taking it all in like it was all nothing as a single, immediate deepthroat unlocks a series of gags from hers, which further stimulates you into oblivion. She’s in her own league when it comes to dick-sucking—who would’ve thought that such a cute, classy girl whose demeanor is peak-sophistication is a cockslut? Well, that wasn’t surprising considering how much you influenced her on being herself—being so goddamn hot in every outfit she wears and it’s just crazy thinking about that.

Well, you don’t need to think about it when it’s already within inches close to you—lucky you…

She continues her earlier rapid pace as she fucks her mouth onto your throbbing shaft like she wants to prove something—her worth to deserve you and you only. With her constant gags, fast pace, saliva messing up her beautiful visage and the tears adding up to the sullied mess on her face, you can’t hold the fact of abstaining yourself to your desired peak. Encouraging her for more, you praise her masterclass as you caress her gray-almost-hazelnut locks for stroking her ego.

“God fucking dammit, Yuqi—I’m so fucking close—put that t-tight mouth into good use and make daddy cum—fuck!”

She obviously responded with an incredible pace and mouthfucking, mouthing her satisfaction with constant muffles and gags as you could feel your blood rushing, your peak nearing to an end of its hot pursuit as at last, it was truly unbearable to hold it in anymore.

Yuqi, being the clever girl that she is, buries her mouth balls-deep onto your shaft as you hold a vice grip onto her head, a leverage to the constant pleasure you’re into. Thick shots of warm seed welcomes Yuqi’s slutty throat as every spurt receives a warm welcome from her, smiling as best as she can even with a mouthful of cock and the gags being the cherry on top. You let out fervor-filled moans and groans, voicing your satisfaction on your fifteen-second euphoric release inside her mouth.

“You probably deserved that, Yuqi—would have come onto your face but it is what it is.”

After pulling out and letting out exhausted breaths, Yuqi sticks out her tongue to show your incredible hard work all over it, and then quickly swallows your creamy, healthy load with two gulps, herself struggling a little because of such a marvelous volume of your load. Your load was so much to the point that some seeped out of her chin and onto her lips, you then aiding to help her clean it up as no food shall be wasted, wiping it with your fingers and then directing it onto her mouth and eagerly, Yuqi sucked onto it, not wasting a single drop.

“But I want you to paint my face, daddy—can you please cum on my face, daddy, please—”

“No—” You commanded her to get up as she immediately obliged, inching closer to her as you have a lot of plans in store with her today as her wants shouldn’t be attended first. “—I would want to cum on your face, yes, but girls like you—I don’t even know if you deserve it, let alone inside your tight, little pussy.”

A visible frown and pout is evident on her face, expressing her sadness with your proposition but an enlightenment snaps her back to her delighted self, knowing she’ll get her needs attended to by you and soon, you’ll give in but it won’t be that easy. 

“Then just fuck me senseless and cum in pussy, daddy—”

“You fucking slut—” You then grabbed her wrists in order to be dangerously closer to her as you smack her buttocks harshly, earning a sultry whine from Yuqi as the rage inside you is now emanating an aura of fear as she feels it too, eyebrows furrowing as she doesn’t know what to anticipate. “—you’re really that cockhungry, huh?”

Yuqi nods as she lets out a deep sigh of anxiety and anticipation, feeling such a roller-coaster of emotions as she doesn’t know how she could take this situation in a sense that she’ll be relieved knowing that everything is going to be smooth. She kneels down in front of you, and then makes contact with your eyes as those glistening orbs plead for your mercy, to fulfill her needs on your own accord.

“P-please, daddy—I n-need you in my cunt right n-now—fuck, please, daddy!”

It’s the way she begs that makes the difference amongst everything else—those endearing eyes that can get any man lost with its stare and her voice, her deep, sultry voice that’s just the cherry on top. You love seeing herself at her lowest, the point where she’ll beg for anything to sustain her needs and it’s just an arousing sight to see. You’ll note this and would definitely take advantage of her submissiveness just hear Yuqi begging for you.

“P-please, daddy—I’ll do anything just t-to be fucked silly.”

And god you can’t resist the temptation of depriving her needs when her verbal attempts to persuade you onto such sinful acts. You can’t really contain anything anymore as you just hope to ruin her and to fuck that bitchy attitude out of her. Not really going to abstain yourself from reaching your own carnal desires, you command her to get up as you’re about to give in to the abyss of no-return and full satisfaction.

“Get on all fours onto the bed, head down, ass up, and since you’re begging like a fucking cockhungry whore and don’t worry Yuqi—I’ll make sure you’re legs won’t work until tomorrow, or maybe even a week considering how you’ve made me this fucking horny.” Once she quickly obliged to be in position, you swiftly gave her bubble butt harsh spanks that almost left your handprint in it and you’re definitely marking it red because she’s yours and she loves it, so, you won’t even mind stopping even it’s on her own accord—you even vividly remember how she came hard with just your merciless spanks at her butt and your fingers fucking her pussy and god, it’s such a sight to remember. The rage inside you is brewing in such a potent quality that you’re willing to fuck her senseless, no matter what happens. Now getting up onto the bed with her, you kneel down as you spank her again, and then another, consistently giving her a barrage of harsh smacks that every clash resonates around the bedroom. Having enough of it as you successfully imprinted your palm onto her scrumptiously plump cheeks, you avert your attention onto her needy pussy, brushing your fingers off it just to tease her and immediately, she lets out series of muffled moans as her thighs quiver with sensitivity.

“You’re so fucking hot, Yuqi—no wonder why people eye on you like they’re about to fuck you at any given time—shit, you’re so fucking hot.”

No one can blame you for that because with the insane hourglass waist she’ve worked hard to impress you—and sure she definitely did considering how you’re always in awe whenever taking a look of that tone midriff—you can’t help but utter such compliments not just to stroke her ego, but to make her wetter because she’s about to take such force that she’ll give into submission anytime. 

You didn’t really waste some time to finger her pussy further, but instead brushed your tip against her pussy and without any warning, you plunge inside her as the both of you moaned in unison, the tightness of her walls nigh-suffocating your shaft like it’s about to immediately milk out a load from you—it’s just pure insanity how her walls grip around your raging member everytime as it just voices her satisfaction whenever you’re having sex with her—and her moaning (almost whining) in delight because of the girth of your whole length that’s not easy to take—you could tell the hint of struggle within her as you can see her hands curling as well as her ragged, muffled moans. You took some time to be accustomed to the tightness of her cunt as not so long after, you thrust in her with a moderate pace that defies peak pleasure. You weren’t getting to harsh on her, yet, because you wanted her to give such time to prepare on what’s coming next and also, you wanted well-paced fucking with a rising action and not to the anticipated climax immediately, although, you want to really give her the thrusts of a lifetime, and it’s not gonna be long until such filthiness is about to happen.

“Mmfh—mfh!”

“What are you saying, Yuqi?” You pull her hair, arching her back, as she lets out sets of profanities that makes her succumb onto the intense pleasure that has been coursing down her veins since the start you’ve laid a finger on her heated core. 

“Can d-daddy f-fuck me harder, please?”

Still engrossed onto suckling the porcelain skin of her neck and peppering her nape and shoulders with kisses, it took you seconds to respond and with a hitch of anger. “You really have the audacity to think if I can—” You gave her butt a harsh spank in response to her bewildering audacity as she let out another sultry whimper that made your cock twitch. “—fuck you harder? Well—fuck, you’re tight, Yuqi—really fucking tight—so, you need to beg for it—beg then you may have a chance.”

Muttering up the green light, she didn’t hesitate to let out her wants as you still her head harshly and reduced the pace of your thrusts, wanting her to articulate and hear the best sinful profanities coming out of her slutty mouth.

“P-please, daddy—f-fuck your gi—girl like she deserves it—l-like a bitchy s-slut who a-always wants your cock at—gahh—any g-given time—fuck, please, daddy, fuck the l-living whore o-out of me—I k-know I’m a bitch—a fucking bitch when you teach m-me a l-lesson—ahh, fuck, daddy!”

You didn’t let her finish her sentence because even halfway with her lustful speech is the uncontainable sheer of will to fuck her senseless as it helped ignite the raging flame inside you, your hips oscillating such pace that like a man could never do. You rev your engines, or should I say, your hips in a merciless pace that Yuqi inevitably lets out the most erotic, lustful moans you’ve ever heard on your whole life, orchestrating such a masterpiece that should be composed as a symphony—it’s not like you’ve probably recorded multiple symphonies full of her moans onto your brain and you wish you could record it right now but your focus is now averted towards fucking her. Now, letting go of her gray-hazelnut locks, you grab her mounds as you fondle whilst maintaining such an incredible pace, further lighting up the flame of lust Yuqi’s been into as the stimulation is becoming too much.

“You’ve wanted t-this all along, huh? S-shit, you’re a crazy girl, Yuqi.”

“I c-could never help it whenever d-daddy’s cock fill up m-my tight cunt—fuck, so f-fucking good, daddy—so good!”

Voicing her satisfaction with your wild treatment on her, you continue fucking her like an animal as now, you continued on kissing her back, peppering it with your affection as now, you also added spanks at random intervals between your thrusts and god, it’s making Yuqi insane considering how stimulating all of these are. Every clash of your bodies and jiggles of her thighs sends you into an hypnotic trance, allowing yourself to lure yourself onto fucking her with ridiculous pace. 

It makes so much of a difference with her hands idle and just curling because of the intense pleasure, but, it allows you to have more leverage and control over her, considering how she always interrupts you with her hands being all over your back, scratching it while fucking in a mating press position and more, and it’s such an incredible experiment what you’ve laid upon to.

“D-daddy—ahh…”

“Yes, Yuqi?”

Even if you can’t see her expression of plea and submissiveness, you could spark an imaginative figure of it as you reduced the pace a little, giving her a breather to propose something.

“C-can I suck on your f-fingers while y-you’re fucking me, please, d-daddy—please?”

Not wasting time for anymore foreplay, you avert your other hand onto her mouth as she sucks onto your index finger whilst building up the pace again. The stream forming around of your cock signals her utmost satisfaction and pleasure, and with the combined techniques you’re doing to further make it run like a waterfall, it’s almost inevitable for her to hold it in as it drips onto the bed sheets, staining it—you’re gonna need a new set of bed sheets after you’re done with her, that’s for sure. With a harsh grip of her hips to further piston your hips onto euphoria, you continue your earlier wild pace as every clench of her cunt does wonders to your brain, sending you into overdrive as continuous erotic and muffled moans escape Yuqi’s lips. Speaking of clenching, you could tell how close she is to achieving her own orgasm as not so long after, she pulled out of your fingers after multiple gags as she’s now calling out her near high.

“Daddy—I’m g-gonna cum s-so soon!”

Not wanting to deny anything as you can’t stop yourself either, soon, the inevitable will come for her as you gave her the green light: “Then cum for me, baby—don’t hold back.”

To further aid onto reaching her high, you gave her an onslaught of wild thrusts as she screams in delight, announcing her euphoric release. With still your cock buried deep in her pussy, she came hard as streams of her juices flowed around your girth and dripped onto the bed sheets, some on her thighs and your balls. Not really wanting to break the euphoric essence of pleasure, you’re still fucking her slowly and yet, your carnal desires kick in and fucked her like it’s your last, not giving her time to recover from her earlier strong orgasm. With such an incredible session you’ve been into, you want to end this on a better note and with that in mind, an idea comes into your mind for utmost arousal.

“Where do you want me to cum, Yuqi? Inside your tight, little cunt, filling you up to the brim? Or, all over your body where I can paint possibly every inch to show how much of a slut you are?”

Such ways of a hell of a release is such a spectacular sight, no matter what the concluding act is an arousing sight. With your proposal, Yuqi will always want your thick semen to be released inside her cunt, filling her up to the hilt but of course, you would choose the opposite, wanting to hear her beg for one more time. 

“I w-want you to c-cum in my pussy, daddy—use me and f-fill your girl up!”

“But I’d rather paint you instead of filling you up, how about that, hm, Yuqi?”

“But, please—daddy, I w-want it inside me, please…”

Being satisfied upon her pleas, you’ve thought of a brilliant idea of seeing her face while cumming, so, you pull out of her which earned an upset whine from her as you commanded her to face you as the grand finale is within your hand’s reach.

“Turn around so I can cum in you in this position.”

“Yes, daddy—o-oh! You’re s-so deep in t-this position, daddy! Please, fuck me hard and c-cum inside my slut pussy!”

Without holding anything back, you immediately plunge your length inside her as the penetration is crazy, filling her up balls-deep in every thrust. You’re fucking her like you meant it and you absolutely did, each thrust earning the most hypnotic jiggles of her thighs as her face expresses numerous emotions containing lust and delight, and soon, it’s about to break loose—the contained damn for ages about to break out, again. With your wet balls slapping repeated against her puckered hole, it just represents the wild pace you’re exerting as you didn’t announce your orgasm anymore, wanting to catch Yuqi off-guard but it’s like she couldn’t tell you’re about to go off considering your constant throbbing inside her tight walls.

You buried your shaft, filling her up to the hilt and immediately, you came, shooting another thick load of your seed deep in her as she moans and in order to silence it, you capture her lips as she immediately reciprocates, sharing such an intimate kiss between your orgasmic trance. Having enough of the battle of dominance onto each other’s mouth, you pull out your mouth of her as you did the same on your cock, meeting a sight of her now-creampied pussy as the sight is just worthy to behold—her cunt mixed with your semen and her juices and some seeping out of her hole and onto the bed sheets. With now your softening cock, you didn’t even bother to let her clean it up; but instead, you opted to pull her into a deep, passionate kiss one more time to voice your satisfaction on today’s steamy session.

“God, daddy—you came s-so much, thank you—hah…”

“Just don’t act like a bitch and you’ll be rewarded like that, Yuqi.”

“But I wasn’t—”

“Don’t even start it—you felt great too, though.”

Yuqi blushes as the compliment makes her lower her guard, not just with the fact that her ego is stroked but with the fact of genuinity laces on each of your words.

“You fucked me great too—wanna clean up?”

“Sure—just please, I don’t wanna have sex in the bathroom.”

“Hah—who knows? Maybe it could be more than that…” God, this girl will never change and it’s like she’s about to take another with her wobbly legs, you doubt she can do anything sexual for now but you won’t mind it—who damn knows, right?

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : SHATTERED REFLECTIONS : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Dark!Toxic!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Angst

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: Violence: Contains descriptions of physical violence and assault, including an assault with claws, Emotional Distress: Deals with themes of heartbreak, emotional manipulation, and the impact of toxic relationships, Adult Themes: Includes mature content related to romantic relationships, jealousy, and emotional trauma, Character Deaths: Implies potential for severe injury, with one character being gravely hurt, Mentions of Y/N

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: you’re a human working at the X-Mansion who ended things with Logan Howlett after catching him with Jean Grey. Unaware of the truth, you’re forced to confront Logan when his anger and obsession lead him to violently attack your new boyfriend, Mark.

Based on this request.

THE WIND RUSTLED THE LEAVES SURROUNDING THE SPRAWLING X-MANSION, a stark contrast to the tense energy crackling in the air. You pulled your coat tighter, stepping out of your car and making your way toward the grand estate. Working at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was never boring, especially as one of the few humans on staff. It was a privilege, some might say, to work among mutants and the mighty X-Men, but you weren’t here for privilege. You were here for a fresh start.

It had been years since the breakup with Logan Howlett, and while the scars remained, you had done your best to move on. He was still around, of course. You couldn't exactly escape him in a place like this, but you had mastered the art of avoidance. Besides, the past was the past. Your life wasn’t on hold anymore.

“Hey, you”

You turned at the familiar voice. It was Mark, the guy you had started seeing recently. A friendly smile tugged at your lips as he jogged up to you, carrying his usual easy-going charm.

“Hey,” you greeted him softly. “You didn’t have to come all the way here.”

Mark shrugged. “Thought I’d walk you in. Plus, I didn’t get enough of you last night.”

You chuckled, feeling warmth spread through you, but that small moment of lightheartedness faded as a shadow approached from the front gates.

Logan.

His figure was unmistakable—tall, rugged, broad shoulders, and that untamed edge that always made him stand out. Except this time, his eyes, burning with a feral intensity, were locked on Mark. He barely acknowledged your presence.

"Who's this?" Logan growled, his deep voice sending a chill down your spine.

Your heart skipped, a pit forming in your stomach. You hadn’t told Logan about Mark because… well, there hadn’t been a reason to. But now, standing here, facing him like this, you felt the weight of his presence more than you’d like to admit.

"This is Mark," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual, but Logan's expression remained unreadable, his jaw set tightly. "We're seeing each other."

Logan's eyes flicked over Mark, as if sizing him up, and something primal simmered beneath his gaze. "Seeing each other, huh?" His lips curled into something resembling a sneer. “Doesn’t seem like much.”

“Logan,” you warned, stepping forward slightly. “Don’t.”

Mark, oblivious to the brewing tension, extended his hand toward Logan. “Hey, man, I’ve heard a lot about you—"

But Logan didn’t take the offered hand. His eyes flashed with barely restrained rage, his fists clenching. "I bet you have."

Mark’s brow furrowed, and he pulled his hand back awkwardly. The air around you thickened with unspoken hostility. You stepped between them, your heart racing as memories of the past came flooding back—memories of Logan’s anger, his possessiveness.

"Logan, stop it. This isn’t your business anymore," you said firmly, hoping your words would snap him out of whatever violent spiral he was heading toward.

Logan’s gaze, now locked on you, darkened with something far more painful than anger. “The hell it isn’t,” he spat. “You think you can just move on? After everything?”

Your chest tightened. "It’s been years, Logan. We’re over."

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something deep in his eyes—hurt, betrayal. But then it was gone, replaced by that all-too-familiar fury.

“I didn’t cheat on you,” he said suddenly, his voice low but filled with intensity.

You flinched. The wound from that day was still fresh, still raw. The day you walked into the common room and saw Jean Grey pressed against Logan, her lips on his, and him—God, you thought he was kissing her back. It was the last thing you had seen before walking away. No words, no confrontation, just pain, and silence. You left before he could explain, before you could see how he had pushed Jean away, fury radiating off him like a wildfire.

“I know what I saw, Logan.”

“No. You saw what she wanted you to see,” he growled. “Jean forced herself on me. I didn’t want her.”

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping you. “That’s convenient, isn’t it? To blame her when she’s not here to defend herself.”

Logan's eyes flared with anger, his claws unsheathing slightly as he took a step toward you. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. You never stayed long enough to hear the truth.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to hear it!” you shot back, your own anger rising to meet his. “You think that makes it okay? You think your anger fixes everything, Logan?”

Mark, who had been silent this whole time, stepped in, sensing the escalation. “(Y/N), maybe we should just—”

“No!” Logan snarled, his eyes darting to Mark. “You don’t get to talk here, pretty boy.”

Mark’s face hardened. “Look, man, I don’t want any trouble.”

Logan’s laugh was cold, venomous. “You already found trouble.”

“Logan, enough!” you yelled, stepping between them again. “This is done. We’re done. You need to accept that.”

Logan’s eyes locked onto yours, and for the first time, there was something broken there—something desperate. His voice was low, almost pleading. “I was going to marry you, (Y/N).”

Your breath caught in your throat. It was the first time either of you had mentioned the engagement since the breakup. The ring that had once felt like a promise, like forever, now felt like a distant memory. You blinked away the sudden tears that threatened to spill, shaking your head.

“You can’t keep holding onto that, Logan. It’s over.”

He took another step closer, his eyes blazing with something dark, something dangerous. “It’s not over for me.”

You were about to respond when a sharp movement caught your attention. Logan had lunged forward, grabbing Mark by the collar and yanking him off his feet. A gasp escaped your lips as Mark struggled against the iron grip.

“Logan, no!” you screamed, panic seizing your chest as you tried to pull him off. “Let him go!”

But Logan didn’t budge, his claws extending fully now as he pressed them dangerously close to Mark’s throat. Mark’s eyes widened in fear, his breath coming in short gasps as he tried to speak.

“This guy,” Logan snarled, his voice dripping with venom, “he doesn’t deserve you.”

“Stop!” you yelled again, tears streaming down your face as you pulled at his arm, desperation clawing at your insides. “Please, Logan, don’t do this!”

For a moment, the world seemed to hang in the balance, the weight of your plea hanging in the air between you. Logan’s eyes flicked to you, something unreadable flashing across his face.

Then, slowly, agonizingly, he released Mark, who fell to the ground gasping for breath.

“Get out of here,” Logan spat, his voice shaking with rage. “Before I change my mind.”

Mark scrambled to his feet, grabbing your arm as if to pull you away with him, but you stood frozen, your eyes locked on Logan’s.

“Go,” you whispered to Mark, your voice hollow. “I’ll catch up.”

Mark hesitated, but when you didn’t move, he nodded and stumbled toward the gate.

When he was gone, you turned back to Logan, your heart shattering all over again. “You can’t do this, Logan.”

He didn’t answer, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he stared at you, his claws retracting slowly. “I can’t lose you,” he finally whispered, the words a broken confession.

You shook your head, wiping the tears from your face. “You already did.”

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving Logan standing alone in the cold.

~

The days after your confrontation with Logan blurred into a haze of unease. Despite his promise to give you time, his presence weighed heavily on your mind, lurking just beyond the edges of your thoughts. Every glance in the halls, every shared silence during meetings—it all felt charged with a tension you couldn’t shake.

Mark had backed off since that night. You couldn’t blame him. As much as he tried to be supportive, you knew Logan’s threat had shaken him to his core. The encounter had left its mark on you, too. It was clear Logan hadn’t moved on, and you couldn’t ignore the fact that some part of you hadn’t either. But the idea of going back? It scared you.

You stood in front of the X-Mansion’s grand staircase, staring at the students milling about. They were oblivious to the storm that brewed inside the walls of this place, inside your heart. You had work to do—there was always work—but your thoughts were far from your responsibilities.

“(Y/N?)”

A familiar voice snapped you out of your reverie. It was Scott Summers, his presence commanding as always, but his tone carried a gentleness that you hadn’t expected.

“You okay?” he asked, adjusting his visor slightly. “You’ve been… distant lately.”

You hesitated, unsure of how to answer. Scott had always been one of the more perceptive X-Men, but you weren’t ready to unload the entire mess that was your emotional state onto him. He, more than anyone, had a complicated history with Logan—especially when it came to Jean.

“I’m fine,” you said, forcing a smile. “Just a lot on my mind.”

Scott studied you for a moment before nodding slowly. “If you need to talk, you know where to find me.” He paused, then added quietly, “Logan’s not easy to deal with. Just… be careful.”

His words hung in the air as he walked away, leaving you to contemplate what "careful" even looked like in a situation like this.

~

That evening, you found yourself wandering outside, the cool air soothing against your skin. The grounds around the mansion were sprawling, and you often came out here to clear your mind. Tonight, though, your thoughts were too tangled to unravel.

As you walked along the wooded path that led to the edge of the property, you heard footsteps behind you. At first, you tensed, but then a familiar scent of whiskey and cigars filled the air.

“Logan,” you said, without turning around.

He stepped into view beside you, silent at first, his eyes scanning the darkened sky as though looking for answers. He didn’t say anything, but the tension between you was palpable, like a rope pulled too tight, threatening to snap.

“Why are you here?” you asked softly, not trusting yourself to look at him.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he muttered, his voice low. “You’re always running away, (Y/N).”

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep your emotions in check. “I’m not running. I’m thinking.”

Logan scoffed, a sound filled with bitterness. “Thinking? About what? Him?”

Your heart skipped at the venom in his voice, and you finally turned to face him. His eyes were locked on you, fierce and unyielding, as if the very idea of Mark being in your life was an insult to him.

“This isn’t about Mark,” you shot back. “This is about you, Logan. About us. What we’ve become.”

“And what’s that?” he growled, taking a step closer, his posture tense and coiled, like a predator ready to strike. “What are we now, You tell me.”

You didn’t have an answer. What were you? Ex-lovers? Former fiancés? Two people who couldn’t let go of a future that was never going to happen?

“I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly. “I don’t know anymore.”

Logan’s expression softened for a moment, the anger ebbing away just enough for you to see the pain beneath it. “I never wanted it to be like this,” he murmured, his voice gruff but vulnerable. “I never wanted to lose you.”

Your chest tightened at his words. There was a time when you would have believed him without question, when his love was the only thing that mattered. But now? Now you were caught between what was and what could never be.

“You have to let go, Logan,” you said, your voice shaking as you forced the words out. “We can’t keep doing this.”

Logan’s eyes darkened, his expression hardening again. “I can’t let go,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “I won’t.”

A cold chill ran down your spine at the intensity in his tone. You had seen Logan angry before, had witnessed the fury of the Wolverine—but this? This was different. It wasn’t just anger. It was obsession.

“You have to,” you whispered, stepping back, putting some distance between you. “This… this isn’t healthy. For either of us.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, and he took another step toward you, closing the distance again. “You think I care about healthy? About what’s good for me?” His voice dropped, the desperation leaking through. “You are all i’ve got.”

Tears stung at your eyes as you looked at him, his face etched with years of pain and regret. You wanted to reach out, to touch him, to comfort him. But you knew that if you did, you’d be pulled back into the same toxic cycle you had worked so hard to escape.

“I can’t be that for you anymore,” you said softly, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

Logan’s face twisted with anguish, his hands balling into fists at his sides. For a moment, he looked like he was going to argue, to fight you on it, but then something in him broke. His shoulders sagged, his anger dissipating into something far more heartbreaking.

“Don’t do this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Don’t leave me.”

The raw vulnerability in his words nearly shattered your resolve, but you knew that staying would only make things worse. You had to be strong, for both of you.

“I’m not leaving you,” you said, stepping forward and gently placing a hand on his chest. His heart beat steadily beneath your palm, but it was a beat laced with sorrow. “I’m just letting us go.”

Logan’s hand covered yours, holding it against his chest, his gaze locking onto yours. For a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of everything unspoken between you pressing down like a heavy fog.

“I love you,” he said, his voice rough, desperate.

You closed your eyes, the words cutting through you like a blade. “I know.”

And with that, you pulled your hand away, stepping back, the loss already aching in your chest. Logan watched you go, his face a mask of pain, but he didn’t follow. He just stood there, rooted to the spot as you walked away into the night.

~

It wasn’t long after that night when things took a darker turn.

A few days passed, the tension between you and Logan lingering but unspoken. Mark had returned, cautious but understanding. You were trying to rebuild some sense of normalcy, though deep down, you knew it wouldn’t last.

One afternoon, as you were finishing up paperwork in your office, you heard a commotion outside. Raised voices, hurried footsteps. Something was wrong.

You rushed into the hallway, finding a group of students gathered around. They parted when they saw you, revealing a sight that made your blood run cold.

Mark was lying on the ground, barely conscious, his face bruised and bloodied. His shirt was torn, and there were deep claw marks across his chest. He was gasping for air, his eyes wide with pain.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, rushing to his side. “What happened?”

A nearby student, shaken, spoke up. “It… it was Logan. He went crazy. Attacked him out of nowhere.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, your mind reeling with shock and disbelief. You had seen Logan angry, but this—this was beyond anything you had imagined.

“Get help,” you barked, panic flooding your veins as you pressed your hands against Mark’s wounds, trying to stop the bleeding. “Get Hank— now!”

As the student ran off, you looked down at Mark, tears blurring your vision. “Mark, stay with me,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Please, just stay with me.”

But as you spoke, your thoughts drifted to Logan, to the man you once loved—and the monster he had become.

~

The frantic rush to get Mark medical attention was a blur. You barely registered the voices around you—Hank's orders as he examined Mark, the students' whispers, the quiet hum of medical equipment in the mansion’s makeshift infirmary. Your hands were stained with his blood, and your mind could barely keep up with the whirlwind of panic and guilt.

Logan. It always came back to Logan.

You paced outside the infirmary, your heart racing. Mark was stable, but unconscious, with deep wounds that would take time to heal. Hank had assured you that Mark would recover physically, but emotionally? That was a different story.

The mansion was eerily quiet as you waited, the halls seeming emptier than usual, though you knew that wasn’t true. Everyone was avoiding you—or rather, avoiding the fallout. Word traveled fast in the mansion, especially when Logan was involved. His violence wasn’t new, but this? Attacking Mark out of pure jealousy? It crossed a line that even the X-Men wouldn’t tolerate.

The quiet hum of footsteps caught your attention, and you turned to see Charles Xavier rolling down the hallway toward you. His face was unreadable, but there was a sadness in his eyes that cut through the tension.

“(Y/N),” he greeted softly, his voice steady but laced with concern. “I heard about what happened.”

You nodded, unable to trust your voice at first. “Mark… he didn’t deserve that.”

“No, he didn’t,” Charles agreed, stopping in front of you. “Logan has always been a complicated man, but his actions tonight… they cannot be ignored.”

You looked away, the sting of tears threatening to break through again. “What are you going to do?”

Charles was quiet for a moment, considering his words. “I’ve already spoken with Logan. He’s agreed to leave the mansion for a while—at least until we can assess the situation.”

“Leave?” you repeated, disbelief flooding through you. “You’re just… sending him away? What about what he did to Mark? He attacked him, Charles. He could’ve killed him.”

Charles sighed, a heavy sound filled with the weight of decades of making impossible decisions. “Logan isn’t himself right now. His emotional instability is dangerous, yes, but I don’t believe he’s beyond redemption. He needs time, space, and perhaps more help than we can provide here.”

Your chest tightened at his words. Part of you knew Charles was right—Logan wasn’t in control of himself. But that didn’t change the fact that he had hurt someone you cared about. Deep down, you had always known Logan was a ticking time bomb, but you hadn’t expected it to explode like this.

“Where is he now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“He’s in his room, packing,” Charles said quietly. “He’ll be leaving by morning.”

You nodded, though it didn’t feel like enough. Logan leaving didn’t fix the mess he had made—it didn’t heal Mark or undo the damage he had caused. But it was a start. A temporary solution to a much bigger problem.

“I need to talk to him,” you said, the words coming out before you had fully processed them.

Charles hesitated, his brows furrowing in concern. “Are you sure that’s wise, (Y/N)? Logan is volatile right now, and—”

“I have to,” you interrupted, your voice firmer this time. “I need closure. I need him to understand that this can’t go on.”

Charles studied you for a long moment before nodding. “Very well. Just… be careful.”

You didn’t wait for anything else. You turned and headed toward Logan’s room, your footsteps echoing in the empty halls. Each step felt heavier than the last, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew this confrontation was going to be difficult, but it was necessary. You couldn’t live with this looming over you anymore.

When you reached Logan’s door, it was slightly ajar. The light inside was dim, casting long shadows across the room. You could hear the faint sound of him moving about, packing his things into a worn-out duffel bag.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open fully and stepped inside.

Logan didn’t look up at first. He was hunched over, his hands shoving clothes into the bag with an almost mechanical precision. His shoulders were tense, his jaw clenched, and the air around him felt thick with barely-contained rage.

“Logan.”

He froze at the sound of your voice, his back still turned to you. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, slowly, he straightened up, his fists tightening at his sides.

“I figured you’d come,” he muttered, his voice rough.

You closed the door behind you, trying to steady your nerves. “What the hell were you thinking?” The words came out sharper than you intended, but the anger bubbling inside you couldn’t be contained any longer.

Logan finally turned to face you, his eyes dark and wild. “What was I thinking? I was thinking I’m sick of watching you run around with that punk.”

“You nearly killed him,” you snapped, your voice trembling with fury. “This isn’t about Mark, Logan. This is about you losing control, again.”

Logan growled low in his throat, taking a step toward you. “I didn’t lose control. I knew exactly what I was doing.”

“That’s even worse,” you shot back, crossing your arms as you glared at him. “You don’t get to hurt people just because you’re angry. You don’t get to—”

“I don’t get to what?” Logan interrupted, his voice rising, the anger spilling out now. “I don’t get to be pissed off that the woman I love is parading around with some other guy? I don’t get to be mad that you’ve replaced me like I’m nothing?”

Your heart clenched at his words, but you refused to back down. “You’re not nothing, Logan. You were never nothing. But this… this isn’t love. This is obsession. And it’s destroying you.”

Logan’s face twisted with a mixture of anger and pain, and for a brief moment, you saw the man you used to know—the one who was capable of love, not just rage.

“You don’t understand,” he muttered, his voice cracking. “I was ready to spend my life with you, sweetheart. I would have done anything for you.”

“I know,” you whispered, your voice softening just a little. “I know, Logan. But that’s not enough anymore. We’re not those people anymore.”

Logan’s fists clenched and unclenched, his entire body tense with barely-restrained fury. “I can’t just walk away, (Y/N). I can’t let you go.”

“You have to,” you said firmly, taking a step closer to him. “Because if you don’t, you’re going to destroy yourself—and everyone around you.”

Logan’s breathing was ragged now, his chest heaving with the effort of holding himself together. He looked at you, and for a moment, you saw the cracks in his armor—the vulnerability, the heartbreak. But then, just as quickly, the anger returned.

“I won’t apologize for what I did to him,” Logan growled, his eyes flashing with defiance. “He was in the way.”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “You don’t get to decide that, Logan. You don’t get to decide who’s in my life.”

For a long moment, the two of you stood there in silence, the weight of everything that had happened hanging heavy in the air. You could see the internal battle raging inside him—the war between the man you once loved and the beast he had become.

Finally, Logan let out a harsh breath, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I’m leaving,” he said quietly, his voice void of the usual bravado. “But this isn’t over, darlin’. Not by a long shot.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the finality of his words. “I hope you find peace, Logan,” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. “For your sake.”

Logan didn’t respond. He just grabbed his duffel bag and walked past you, his presence leaving a cold emptiness in the room.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders—but the ache in your chest remained.

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @boomveronika @wolviesgirl @slowlikehoneyyy @lanabobana @shybluebirdninja @corvusmorte @seamlessepiphany

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[roosterforme]

So Fresh, So Clean | Rooster x Reader

Summary: At first, Bradley is mortified when the guys force him to stop at a carwash featuring bikini clad women from a college softball team. But when he meets you there, he starts to think he should thank his friends instead.

Warnings: Fluff and swearing

Length: 2000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

I wrote this for a request and for @wicked-remarks Summer Festival! Check out my masterlist for more!

"Dude, stop at In-N-Out. I'm starving," Payback whined from the passenger seat as Bradley zipped down the road in his Bronco.

"Nah, just stop at Starbucks," Jake argued from the backseat. "I need more caffeine."

"We're going to be late," Bradley groaned, passing the fifth fast food place while Payback whined and pointed out the window. 

"We told Nat we'd be there around noon," Coyote said from the back. "I mean, if we stopped for food, we could grab something for her too."

Bradley rubbed his hand over his face, wondering why he had agreed to drive all of these idiots. "Guys, if I stop, I'm only stopping once. Then straight to the beach. So decide what you want."

Then Coyote started stuttering at the same time Payback said, "Holy shit! Pull over! Pull over!" Bradley looked where Payback was pointing, and then he saw a sign that said University of San Diego Softball along with a car wash and a lot of scantily clad women.

"Fuck caffeine. We're stopping here!" Jake said, practically climbing into the front seat. "Come on, Rooster!" He started trying to grab the steering wheel, and Bradley had to smack his arm away.

"Seriously!" Bradley yelled. "Stop reaching for the steering wheel!" He slowed down as all three of his passengers started loudly begging him. "You want to look at a bunch of college girls who couldn't care less about you more than you want burgers?"

"Hell yes!" Payback sang as Bradley put his turn signal on and pulled into the parking lot where the collegiate softball team was holding a very popular looking car wash. There were so many cars lined up, and a lot of men milling around. Bradley parked next to a pickup truck and eyed the women in wet tee shirts and bathing suits while Jake pounded on the back of his seat. 

"They are practically naked! Get out so I can get out!" Jake whined.

"Chill!" Bradley said, loud enough that he had the attention of all three of them. "You guys need to be on your best behavior. I'm not kidding!"

"Look at them," Coyote said, pulling his sunglasses lower on his nose and whistling. "These girls are hot."

Bradley groaned. "Yes, I see them. And don't call them girls. They're women. And please don't touch any of them. Oh my god, I'm already so embarrassed."

"Let's go," Payback said, opening his door. "Time to flirt."

"They don't want to flirt with you," Bradley muttered. "You're thirty five."

"I dunno about that," Jake drawled, fixing his hair. "That redhead looks like she might like a daddy."

"Oh my fucking Lord, we are going to get kicked out of a fundraiser," Bradley groaned as he climbed out of his door and was nearly trampled by Jake.

"Relax man, I'm about to pay for your car to get washed," he said, shoving Bradley out of the way to get over to the redhead holding a hose. "Hey, sweetheart, my name's Jake...."

Bradley headed in the opposite direction, cradling his forehead in his hand. The last thing he wanted was to try to chat up some nineteen year old. He was almost thirty seven, for fuck's sake. But if they wanted to humiliate themselves, that was fine with him. But it didn't mean he needed to watch.

He thought he had found a nice spot to stand and wait while listening to a car stereo blasting Pour Some Sugar On Me. He was out of the way of the guys who were being roped in to helping the girls wash cars now. Jake's shirt was mysteriously missing, and Payback was spraying the hose while a few of the girls screamed.  

"Grown ass men," Bradley muttered, pushing his aviators up higher on his nose.

He heard soft laughter and turned to see you standing next to him. And of course you were gorgeous. And young. And looking up at him with a smirk that he should not have found adorable. 

"Yeah, well, the deans at the college are always amazed by how much money our car wash fundraisers make every summer," you said, smiling at him. He found himself smiling back. 

"My friends almost made me wreck trying to get me to pull over, so I guess that does make sense," Bradley replied with a nod. You were the only one on the team who was still dry, and he could see the straps of your bathing suit tied above the collar of your USD Softball tee shirt. You had on some tiny denim shorts and flip flops, and Bradley bit back a groan and forced himself to look away from you. 

"Your friends look like a bit of a handful," you told him. Bradley was treated to the sight of Coyote dancing to the music in the spray of the water. 

"Just show them women in bathing suits, and this is what they turn into." You were laughing and gaping up at him, as Bradley quickly added, "They're harmless though! I promise! Your teammates have nothing to worry about! They just like to flirt."

"Teammates?" you asked, head cocked to one side.

"Yeah," Bradley grunted, really trying so hard not to look directly at you. Fuck, this was getting difficult. He could tell that your bathing suit was red through your snug fitting white tee shirt, and now he was looking at your chest. He pinched the bridge of his nose over his sunglasses and rolled his shoulders, trying to focus on the dirt being rinsed off a filthy car. "Your teammates? Uh, are you a senior? Or team captain or something?"

Your laughter rang out as you said, "No, not exactly."

"Oh. Uh, what position do you play?" He knew he was rambling now. Really, he should just get out of here. 

"I used to play third base."

And now Bradley was biting his knuckle, because he was thinking about getting to third base with you, unzipping those little shorts in the backseat of his Bronco and slipping his hand inside. "Oh god," he swallowed hard. He was worse than the rest of the guys who were currently covered in soapy water and surrounded by softball players. 

"I'm their coach."

Bradley froze, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. "You're the coach? The softball coach?"

"Yeah. They're not my teammates."

Bradley turned to face you and let his eyes drift down your body and back up to your face. You did look a little older than twenty two. And that's probably why you weren't actively washing the cars. He must have been staring for too long, because you were smirking again as you held out your hand and introduced yourself. "Head coach of USD women's softball."

He took your smaller hand in his. "My name is Bradley, and I'm really hoping you're going to tell me you're like twenty eight years old?"

"I'm thirty," you said slowly, still holding his hand and looking at him with a confused smile. 

"Even better," he said, smiling happily and pulling you a little closer by your hand. "So, you played third base? Which school?"

"University of Oregon."

"Shit. You must be good."

"I'm very good," you told him, and Bradley squeezed your hand a little tighter. 

"I'll bet you are."

"Do you play?" you asked, really sizing him up now. 

"Yeah, just on a Navy rec league. But I'm very good, too."

"Bet I can guess which position you play," you told him before you bit your lip, and Bradley swore he was never going to let go of your hand. 

"Okay. Go ahead and guess."

"But...if I'm right, you owe me a drink," you said coyly.

Bradley's eyebrows shot up. "Then you better fucking get this right."

With a bright laugh, you told him, "You look like a shortstop."

"Damn. You are good."

"I'm right?" you asked, and he nodded. "You owe me a drink."

Bradley took his sunglasses off with his left hand, and your smile grew. "Listen, as soon as you told me you're not a student, I was absolutely going to ask you out. So all you did was make it easier for me."

You pressed your lips together in pleasure, and it was so adorable. "You're still holding my hand."

"I know," he confirmed with a nod. "When are you free? Tomorrow?"

You licked your lips. "I'm coaching a game tomorrow, Bradley. You know, since I'm not a student."

He smirked at the way you were sassing him before asking, "Is it home or away?"

"Home. At USD."

"You gonna invite me to watch?" he asked, and you looked so damn pleased with yourself now. 

"Would you be coming just to ogle the players?" you asked, nodding toward the soaking wet women who were now spraying the hose at Payback. "You know they wear their uniforms to the games instead of bathing suits, right?"

He narrowed his eyes and glared at you playfully. "It's much more likely that I'd be ogling their coach."

"Oh, I like that," you told him. "You can come then. And we can get that drink afterwards?"

"Absolutely," Bradley said, and he finally released your hand as he added, "Can I get your number?"

"Mmhmm." 

He retrieved his phone from his pocket, unlocked it and handed it to you. He watched you enter your contact information, and then you handed it back to him, letting your fingers linger on his. "Text me later today, and I'll send you a ticket to the game."

"Sounds good, coach. I can't wait."

You glanced to the side and then met his eyes again. "It looks like your car's done. And your friends look like an actual disaster."

Bradley groaned as he saw the three of them getting the soap hosed off so they could leave. "Yeah, let me go babysit them for the afternoon. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, you will." And then you put your hand on his chest and kissed his cheek before you turned away to help one of your players who was calling for your attention. 

Bradley tucked his phone away and watched you as he made his way toward the Bronco. You waved to him and he smiled back before turning to assess his three sopping wet friends. 

"Rooster, you idiot!" Coyote said, dripping water on the pavement. "You just stood there like a lump, man."

"We got phone numbers," Jake drawled, holding his wet phone while Bradley snorted. 

"Yeah, we did," Payback said, high fiving Jake. "And we're going to meet up with Sylvia and Taylor later tonight at a bar on their campus."

Bradley just shook his head. "Wring out your shirts and get in the Bronco. Nat's already going to kill us, I hope you know that."

"Worth it," the three of them said in unison. And while Bradley waited for them to dry off a bit, he sent you a text. 

Can't wait for tomorrow.

And right before he pulled out of the parking lot, you wrote back.

XOXO

And there was a ticket to the USD softball game for tomorrow afternoon attached. 

"Hey, what the fuck?" Jake said as Bradley drove down the road toward the beach. He had his phone to his ear as he added, "Taylor gave me a bogus phone number!"

Payback scrambled to unlock his phone, and a second later, he had it on speaker. "Oops, it looks like the person who gave you this number is not actually interested in you! Better luck next time!"

"Damn," Coyote said, completely crestfallen. "Sylvia gave us a bogus number, too."

"I spent fifty bucks to get this thing washed for nothing!" Jake complained, gesturing around the Bronco.

"I can't believe we all struck out today," Payback whined. "We should have just stopped at In-N-Out."

Bradley bit his lip and shook with silent laughter. "Yeah, you all struck out. What a shame." But he was already thinking about where he was going to take you out for a second date.

-----------------------------

The way Rooster flirts, just holy shit. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls.

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@callsigndiamond

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@blog-name6996

@bcon24

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@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

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@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

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@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@hecate-steps-on-me

@xoxabs88xox

[hazybisou]

❛ HYBE BOY ❜

🧸🩰 i’m a lucky fella, i’ve just got to tell her that i love her endlessly

summary - quinn hughes, captain of the Vancouver Canucks, is dating model, y/n y/l/n and hard launches his relationship leaving people shocked at how beautiful she is and making his brothers question how he managed to pull her.

pairing - model!f!reader x quinn hughes

side note - miranda kerr will be used as a faceclaim for the ig posts. but like she’s so beautiful omgggg 😻😻 *careless whisper starts playing* anyways uni is going so well. my professors are so chill like literally it’s amazing. i barely know anyone here (yes after a whole month here, i only know like 6 people). but uni is amazing my roommate is the best and it’s js a great experience!!

✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫

_quinnhughes

liked by lhughes_06, user01, trevorzegras, and 81,920 others

_quinnhughes i’ll keep this one, thanks. 😃

tagged: @/y/n.y/l/n

view comments

colecaufield found in the wild 🐗🕵️

_quinnhughes ❌

user81 Y/N Y/L/N DATING A HOCKEY PLAYER??!! MY WORLDS ARE COLLIDING 🥲🥲

jackhughes 👁️🌊🫵

user17 jack what is this??! 😭😭

user38 he’s weird

user82 he js built diff

trevorzegras quinnifer got (no) game??!

_quinnhughes at least i have a girl where’s yours *looks around* oh i forgot 🥲

trevorzegras you’re my girl @/_quinnhughes don’t worry 😘

jackhughes AYE!!

_quinnhughes @/jackhughes @/y/n.y/l/n idk what he’s talking abt 😥

y/n.y/l/n trev wishes 😔😔

user93 NOOOO😭!!!!

user72 sad day for us quinn girlies 😔

user57 trevor and quinn are umm…

y/n.y/l/n weird and not okay i know and also very much in love with each other???

user57 yes

y/n.y/l/n have you fixed the bed yet??

_quinnhughes no..

lhughes_06 the beds broken?? oh 😐

y/n.y/l/n he jumped on it to hard and made a leg break

jackhughes YO WHAT

_quinnhughes @/jackhughes in my defense she was chasing me

y/n.y/l/n @/_quinnhughes you caused that to happen when YOU THREW A PILLOW AT ME

_quinnhughes @/y/n.y/l/n IM SORRY TAKE ME BACK

y/n.y/l/n @/_quinnhughes YOURE NEXT TO ME STUPID

trevorzegras ☕️☕️

user92 SHES SO PRETTY OMGGG 💕💕

user29 new wag alert!!!

user69 girlie so fine 😻😻

bradytkachuk emma said to stop forcing her to say you guys are together

ehtkachuk yea bc she’s MY wife not YOUR gf

y/n.y/l/n @/_quinnhughes ^^

_quinnhughes @/bradytkachuk @/ehtkachuk @/y/n.y/l/n why are you all after me 😔😔

colemcward mama y papa? mama. papa.

y/n.y/l/n my son is all alone 😭😭

_quinnhughes he’ll live

colemcward @/_quinnhughes no i won’t

lhughes_06 @/y/n.y/l/n why is he your son and not me???

y/n.y/l/n @/lhughes_06 bc you’re the annoying little brother i wished i had growing up

elblue6 my beautiful daughter 💕💕 and her interesting bf

_quinnhughes i’m your biological son??!

y/n.y/l/n quinny shh 🤫 ALSO MAMA EL 😘😘♥️

user48 parents so cute 🥰🥰

✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫

y/n and quinn had been together in michigan for a week now and his brothers were yet to meet her. she had met his parents a couple months before and they’ve loved her ever since. ellen treated her as if she were her own daughter. they would talk about quinn and his behavior and quinn would be in the back, getting offended. jim was like her second father. he was protective of her and was his little girl even if they weren’t blood related.

the couple were on the couch, all cozy and cuddling when they heard a car pull up outside. quinn looked down at y/n who had her eyes closed, trying to go asleep after being out that day. “babe,” quinn heard a mumble come from the girl, “they’re here.” she grumbled in response.

quinn had told her last night that they would arrive at the lake house tomorrow evening. she was half asleep when he told her so all he got from her was an “okay,” before he began to hear soft snores come from her mouth.

“quinny, let me sleep please,” y/n whispered, “i’ll meet them later.”

quinn just smiled and leaned down to kiss her temple. he rested his head on top of hers and closed his eyes, hoping to sleep as well.

unfortunately, in this household, a good nights sleep was never a thing. that was proven as the front door suddenly burst open which quinn jumped slightly at the action and caused y/n to stir in her sleep, letting out a small whine.

“honey, we’re home!” an, oh, so familiar voice announced.

quinn turned his head to the side and peaked over the couch. as soon as he saw his brothers, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at their antics and go back to trying to go to sleep.

he heard chattering and the padding of footsteps get closer, indicating they were coming his way. he began to think of a way of how he would get up without waking up y/n. there was no way.

quinn reopened his eyes and saw two figures standing in front of him. “what the fuck?” he questioned and his brothers laughed at his face.

“i see you’ve been having fun.” luke said and his eyes traveled down to y/n’s sleeping figure and he raised an eyebrow at quinn. “like i knew you had a girlfriend but she’s way out of your league.”

quinn let out a fake chuckle. “get the hell out and let us sleep.” he commented and wrapped his arms around y/n, his arm covering her face from jack and luke.

“but we just got here.” jack pointed out and luke murmured in agreement.

“then go up to your rooms.”

“but we want to meet your girlfriend.” luke stated with a fake pout.

quinn glared at the pair. “she’s sleeping so leave,” he stated and closed his eyes, protecting y/n from their view.

“we’re coming back when you’re both wide awake.” jack pointed a finger at quinn before he and quinn went to the front to get their bags and head upstairs.

quinn shook his head and went back to sleep, awaiting the moment of when y/n wakes up.

the couple had surprisingly slept for an hour and a half. it surprised quinn since he knew his brothers and the amount of noise they made whenever one of them were sleeping.

y/n had begun to wake as she had begun to squirm in quinn’s hold. he let out a groan and held her closer to his body, her squirming subsiding. “q, let go.” she mumbled into his chest. he held her tight. “quinn.”

“go to sleep, princess.” quinn whispered, his eyes still closed.

y/n started to squirm once again. “no, i have to meet your brothers as i said before.” she really wanted to meet luke and jack but with quinn’s hold keeping her restrained, it was impossible.

“they can wait.”

“no we can’t.”

quinn snapped his head towards the voice and y/n lifted her head and looked towards the boy. “why are you everywhere luke?”

luke shrugged, “i don’t know,” he sat at the end of the couch, “i just am.”

quinn rolled his eyes and looked down at y/n. “well you’ve met luke,” he told her.

“and the other?”

“i have a name.” jack.

y/n turned towards the boy, “yeah i know. sorry jack.”

jack shrugged and sat next to luke who gave jack a look. “what?” luke stared at him for a second before using all his force to push jack off. he fell with a thud and quinn, luke, and y/n laughed. “asshole.”

“man whore.”

jack looked up at luke. he got up within a second before he pounced onto luke. the two began to fight, jokingly, of course. jack had an arm wrapped around luke who let out a scream. “get off of me.” luke managed to get out despite jack’s arm suffocating him. luke continuously slapped jack’s arm in an effort for his older brother to let go.

“no.” the two continued to fight and quinn and y/n just stayed there laughing at the two.

“well you’ve met thing 1 and thing 2.” quinn said as he looked down at y/n. “i don’t know how they haven’t killed each other in jersey yet.”

y/n looked up at him. “you have a wonderful family.”

“aren’t we just lovely?” luke asked as he wriggled under jack’s hold. “also one more question,” y/n and quinn looked at him, “did quinn force you to get with him?”

jack’s head perked up at this. “oh yeah, did he?” he let go of luke as he turned towards his older brother and his girlfriend.

y/n only chuckled and quinn gave them a death stare. “no, i didn’t. she simply fell in love with me.”

jack and luke looked at each other. suddenly, the two bursted out laughing. both quinn and y/n were confused. they had a look on there face as the younger pair continued laughing. “what?”

“oh, we’re sorry but how is it that a girl like her, take this in a good way, would fall in love with a guy like you?” jack said and luke was still too busy laughing.

quinn looked at them, offended, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“she’s beautiful! and you’re just..you.” luke exclaimed. “like let’s be real here.”

y/n turned to them, “i didn’t fall in love with him because of his looks, i fell in love with him because of his personality,” she looked towards quinn before looking back at the younger brothers, “although sometimes he’s a little interesting.”

“what do you mean interesting?”

“a wet cat.”

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i fucking hate this so much like actually wtff 😭😭 anyways here’s my monthly post and hopefully some of you enjoy it. uni is my new home and umm it’s great!! now my roommate and my friends are making go to a frat tmrw so uhh hopefully it goes well (ik it won’t) wish me luck 🤞

[kbwrites]

JJK On The Road!

synopsis: how the jjk sorcerers are on a road trip—feat. Gojo, Geto, Shoko, Nanami, Haibara, Utahime

⚝a/n: I had to include baby boy Haibara.

⚝tags: headcanon, Nanami is an emo boy, Gojo is a danger to society.

They all decided to take a roadtrip after graduation… it goes a little something like this

Gojo insisted that he be the one to drive. You assumed that his six eyes would give him some kind of advantage on the road.

You were SO wrong.

Mans is a DEMON on the street. Swerving in and out of traffic, the car is either at 0 or full speed no in-between.

“Huh? Where’d that guy come from?”

“Satoru you literally cut him off-”

“The speed limit is 45”

“Yeah… but that’s more of a suggestion right??”

Of course it isn’t long before you hear the sirens closing in behind you.

“Lisence and registration please.”

“Of course Officer!”

…

“This is your high school ID”

“Oh! Well about that..”

It takes at least 5 years off your life when Satoru is behind the wheel. You somehow manage to arrive to the destination in one piece. Everyone curses him out for endangering their lives (and driving with no license)

“Okay but did you die though?”

Geto is in charge of the AUX (because last time Nanami made everyone cry)

Is the type to put on some chill oldies, and one Abba song (Because Satoru loves Abba).

Loves looking out the window and pointing out cool stuff, bums a cigarette off of Shoko to deal with the stress of Satoru's driving.

“Hey. look at that huge tree.”

The car swerves.

“Wait I don’t see anything!”

“Not you Satoru…”

Is obviously shotgun so he tries his best to stay awake, probably ends up reading a book he brought or reminding Satoru to actually pay attention to the rules of the road.

Shoko is already bored when the car starts, plays “I Spy” with Suguru for all of 3 minutes before falling asleep. After her nap she wakes up and starts taking pictures. Can make even the most mundane thing like riding in car look like an aesthetic Pinterest board. Sneaks pictures of Nanami when he isn’t looking.

“Everyone smile.”

“Wait hold on I want to be in the picture too!”

“Satoru you’re DRIVING.”

Ends up vlogging the trip, texting Utahime to confirm Satoru hasn’t killed them yet.

Nanami did NOT want to go on this trip AT ALL. He was basically forced by Gojo (then coerced by Haibara). He sulks and looking out the window and sighing.

“Nanami stop being Emo”

“I am NOT Emo..”

“Will you stop sulking if I play My Chemical Romance?”

“....”

Brings his DS or something, shows Haibara his animal crossing world. Actually freaks out when Satoru takes a ‘scenic detour’ which adds 3 hours to the trip.

Haibara is in charge of the snacks. And thank god for snacks. 

Brings one cooler for everyone else and one cooler just for Satoru cause that boy can EAT.

Feeds Nanami trail mix

Talks Nanami’s ear off about how excited he is to be done with school </3. Tries to impress Suguru and Satoru by listing off fun facts about each area they drive through.

“Did you know that this is actually the longest stretch of road in the country?”

“Wow. That’s really Something.”

“Did you know that the native flower of this region is the hibiscus?”

“Uh huh.”

“Did you know that AHHH”

 Satoru swerves the car again, everyone gets thrown around the car.

Utahime  refuses to ride in a car with Gojo driving, so she meets up with you guys in her own car.

[boxofshadows]

How Pro-Heroes would react to y/n getting attacked by a villain and ending up in the hospital

✦Includes: Midnight, Eraserhead, All Might, Ms. Joke✦

A/N: sfw!! requests are open if your fav isn't here! I'll write for anyone~★

Midnight

Midnight is incredibly good at hiding her emotions, I believe. Shes used to wearing a mask 24/7 in her hero role, so when she finds out you'd been hospitalized by a villain, she puts on a mask of levelheadedness. She would feel guilty if you had to comfort her after you'd just been traumatized.

Course, you aren't used to this side of her, so you assume she doesn't care. You end up breaking down and asking if she even cares.

"Of course I care, love, did I make it seem like I didn't?" "I'm so sorry baby, I just didn't want to stress you more."

After that, things smooth out. If you don't mind the eventual scar, she'll make it into a joke and flirt about it. "Y'know, I always thought scars were attractive~" and similar things.

If you don't like the idea of a scar, she offers comfort, and a way to hide it until you're more comfortable. "If you want, I can help you hide it and minimize it."

Shes very affectionate the entire time, she doesn't leave the hospital until you basically force her to go check on your cat and get some actual sleep.

Secretly blames herself for not being able to protect you.

After you get out of the hospital she doesn't treat you like glass, persay, but she does NOT let you do anything against your doctor's orders.

She also helps you sign up for therapy and reminds you that whatever happened wasn't your fault. (Hypocrite much?)

Kisses you and reassures you 24/7

It takes a bit for her to stop blaming herself, but you work together:)

Eraserhead

Most emotional man I know of. "logical" my ass.

Aizawa is immediately at your side. Like he will run across rooftops to get to you. He has NO chill. Part of me believes he gets to the hospital at the same time as you.

Clingiest motherfucker alive. Every ten minutes in the waiting room it's "Can I go in yet?" To the nurses. He doesn't sit down once.

Once he gets to you literally nothing is capable of getting him away from you.

He comforts you whenever you need it, deep down he knows there was nothing he really could've done to get there sooner. He's completely and totally focused on you.

When your other friends get the clear to see you, Joke takes pictures of you and him sleeping in the most awkward position

Brings your favorite blankets and foods

Makes you a playlist of classical music to help you sleep

Anything you need, bro is on it immediately

Once you're released he refuses to let you do anything strenuous. He opens the car door for you, helps you get buckled, etc etc.

He does take the hint when you ask to shower alone, and backs off a bit after that.

He offers to ask Recovery Girl to heal you, and brings you painkillers when you need them.

He understands your paranoia after the incident and helps you learn basic ways to keep yourself safe.

All Might

Would get to the hospital as soon as he could, but knows that you'd want him to stay and finish any responsibilities.

If he's in the middle of something, he finishes it as fast as he can and then gets to the hospital.

He gets there just as you're being taken to a room

Instantly asking if you're okay, if you need anything. The second you say you need something he's on it.

Also a clingy motherfucker

But he knows how to distract you from whatever hurts with dumb jokes and pictures of his student's progress.

Knows how to fill dead air basically. Doesn't really ask about the villain unless you bring it up, just to make sure he doesn't potentially trigger anything.

Listens empathetically when you tell him about what happened.

Offers to get you food, but you're both indecisive so it's just a back and forth of:

"what do you want to eat?"

"idk, I'm good with whatever, what do you want"

"you're the one in the hospital bed, what do you want?"

"you have to go get it, so-"

"fine, (food you hate) it is."

"..."

Won't treat you like glass, he knows what it's like and fuckin hated it.

Still offers to help you though, he just doesn't want to suffocate you

Takes you on drives across the coast to get a break from the city

Ms. Joke

Tries to act like she wasn't worried and knew you'd be fine the whole time

She didnt

She had to call Midnight to calm her down

Makes jokes about you "being apart of the club now" (having been attacked by villains) and then apologizes for what happened

Brings you treats and things to make you smile (comfort items, silly things she saw at the store, etc)

Has Nemuri smuggle your guy's tiny dog in and out like twice

Sits in silence and watches you sleep

Brings you headphones to drown out the annoying beeping

A little over protective afterwards

Clingy, but not Shouta clingy.

"you should go home"

"why, is something wrong?"

"you haven't left the hospital in a week, you clown."

"oh yeah. Oops!"

"..."

"ok ok I'm going!"

Showers, but also washes the exact same clothes and rewears them just to fuck with you "you didn't say I had to change"

"tell me you washed those, em, or you're on the couch and the dog gets your pillows."

"Of course I did!"