#and i'm still not receiving any kind of help with this which makes keeping up with these emails and papers extra difficult

[pocket-deer-boy]

i just realized it's been a year and two months since i originally asked for therapy and i'm still not getting therapy. normal country

[joelsgoldrush]

“you can use my skin to bury secrets in” | 6.8k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: Saliva floods his mouth as you rise to your feet, looking down at him from above. Gracefully angelic, and yet— “I know what I’m asking for,” you continue, your voice descending to a low murmur that scratches pleasantly against some dark and remote corner of his brain. Then you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. You repeat your question: “Can I help you?” OR Logan had always known your generosity would get him in trouble. WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. pining. mentions of alcohol. dirty talk. age gap (reader's in her late 20s). logan’s POV. angst/self-deprecation (he just needs a little loving). religious imagery. feelings. petnames. chauffeur!logan. oral sex (m receiving, tiny bit of f receiving). sort of dom!logan. doggy style. unprotected p in v. creampie. A/N: i could say i'm sorry for this, but i'm not. love love love this old man (#needthat). heavily inspired by the song "i know" by fiona apple. @lubdubology my partner in crime who keeps putting up with me, tysm!!! hope you all enjoy it <3

The line between being a good and bad person is thin. So thin, in fact, that Logan finds himself stepping back and forth across it constantly.

Rescuing a kitten from a tree? Good.

Punching a guy at a bar because he didn’t feel like being acknowledged? Bad.

Saving countless lives from mass destruction? Good—heroic, even.

But killing others to do it? Bad—condemnable, scum of the earth.

Where does that leave him? Which side has laid claim to his soul? He’s long accepted he’ll never see the pearly gates.

When the day comes that his body can no longer take it, and he only grows wearier, he’s pretty sure there’s a special place in hell with his name on it, etched in some grave awaiting to be filled.

Maybe Satan’s already counting down the days until he shows up at his door, who knows?

Yet, the more time passes by, the less afraid he is of what lies beneath the surface. He’s learned to coexist with the darkness, with the kind of pain and loneliness that would crush most men.

He doesn’t know how, but he survives it—the agony, the memories, the solitude that hits him from time to time.

And still, he doesn't lose himself entirely. He’s tempted, of course, to linger in the past—it’s always easier to drown there.

If he could go back, he knows he wouldn’t be alone in choosing that path. Some days, it feels like the only option.

But there’s no you in his past.

Logan inhales sharply when your tongue teases his slit, lapping at the precum pooling there. You hum at the taste, your hand resting on his bare thigh, fingers pressing into his skin. Your other hand lazily strokes the length of him, working the inches your mouth can’t take.

It’s clear you’re enjoying this. He can tell from the way your lashes flutter each time he thrusts a little deeper into your slick warmth. A win-win situation.

Letting a girl like you do this to him? That’s bad. Very bad. Red flags all around.

He meets you when he least expects it.

It’s a night like any other. He’s been driving for God knows how long. His joints ache from being in the same position for hours, and a part of his left knee he didn’t even know could hurt begins to throb.

It takes everything in him not to call it quits for the night, not to turn around and head home like a coward.

When exactly his life fell into this monotonous cycle, he’s not entirely sure, but it happened somewhere along the way. Now, it’s all the same: taking care of Charles during the day, catching an hour or two of sleep, then gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, driving through endless stretches of road, resisting any attempts at small talk from the passengers he chauffeurs around.

They all try—every single one of them. They think if they can crack his harsh and bitter exterior, he’ll open up, reveal something, anything to make their eyes go wide.

But why? Why do they insist on breaking through his shell? What do they hope to discover?

No one really cares what’s going on in his mind. They just want to feel good about themselves—like they’ve been kind, amiable, empaths intending to fill some empty and obscure corner of their own lives.

Logan refuses to be the person who grants them that satisfaction.

You slip into the backseat of his limo, closing the door with a soft click. The night clings to you, the scent of the bar still lingering on your clothes. The music is loud enough for him to hear from outside, and he sees the people lined up at the door, willing to cause a fight if it means securing a good time.

There's a slight frown tugging at your features, your lips pulled downward, though your voice is still polite when you blurt out your address.

Five minutes into the drive and you haven’t said a word. Internally, he’s savoring the silence, so happy he could jump on one foot.

This kind of peace is rare. He’d grown unaccustomed to it. The tension in his shoulders eases as the city lights blur past.

But, all good things come to an end, because—

“How’s your night going?” you ask, fiddling with the seatbelt to have something between your fingers. Logan glances at you through the mirror, his eyes catching yours just for a moment, long enough to see the faint, apologetic smile you offer him. He allows himself a heartbeat more to take you in before focusing back on the road.

You click your tongue, a soft sound of disapproval ringing in his ears. “Well, thank you.”

He lets out a quiet huff, grinding his teeth together. “I’d prefer if we stayed like we were before,” he mutters, his voice rough and gravelly. His attention flickers between the passing cars and the occasional glimpses of you that startle him every time he searches for the mirror. Cars. You. Cars. You. You. You. “Y’know, not talking.”

“But that’s no fun at all,” you retort, sliding more to your left, nearly positioning yourself in the middle of the backseat. It gives him a better view of you—whether intentional or not, he can’t say.

The lipstick on your lips is still flawless. A sparkly necklace glints just above the neckline of your dress, and matching earrings dangle from your ears. Wrapped in a leather jacket, you look effortlessly alluring.

This entire sequence is enough to confirm that by no means is he going to heaven. Straight to hell, he thinks, allowing his gaze to trace over each detail of your frame. Straight to hell.

You don’t give up. “Your aura is off.”

That prompts a crooked smirk from him, a shake of his head as he mumbles under his breath: “M’sorry, my what’s off?”

“Your aura,” you clarify, motioning toward him with a light jingle from the many bracelets adorning your wrist. “It’s the energy that surrounds you.”

Logan snorts, amused for a brief second. “Well, you weren’t exactly a beacon of life when you got in either.”

You chuckle softly, leaning back against the seat and looking out the window. “I’m much better now.” A pause before you continue, your tone shifting, losing strength. “My date stood me up. Last-minute cancellation.”

It’s not anger, nor is it disappointment, that laces your words. You seem more resigned than anything else. He’d have expected you to sound at least a bit more conflicted.

“I should’ve seen it coming. He’d been asking to move it forward for a while.”

Does he look like the type of driver who doubles as a therapist? He wishes he could understand why you're telling him all this.

“That sucks,” he still responds, because even though he hasn’t gone out with a woman in what feels like centuries, he understands that sensation all too well. “First time meeting him?”

Listen up, everyone—he’s genuinely engaging in conversation with another soul. This doesn’t happen often.

He hears you hum, eyes still trained on the outside world. You sigh, crossing your arms over your torso. “Would you mind rolling your window up? I’m kind of freezing here.”

“I’d mind that very much,” he says, his voice carrying its usual gruff edge. He fights the urge to grin, but then you unbuckle your seatbelt, leaning in closer to him. Your body is wedged between his seat and the passenger’s, and he perceives your stare boring into his side profile. “Put your seatbelt back on.” 

“You’re fucking with me.” Your finger taps his shoulder once, twice. “First, I get all dolled up for an idiot who bails on me, and now you have the nerve to make fun of me? Give me a break.”

Your eyes stay on him, a smile plastered on your face, anticipating any possible answer.

Crack, crack, crack—you intend to break through his shell, watching him from the front row, waiting for the moment it gives way.

Before you can say more, he cuts you off. “Seatbelt.”

It’s a command, an instruction, and you comply without hesitation.

Warmth pools and stirs low in his gut as he notes how quickly you obey him. 

Would you still look at him like that if you knew the blood he’s scrubbed off his hands? The flesh that his claws have shredded? The names of the lives he’s taken?

Would your warm gaze turn cold, filled with dread instead of curiosity?

Maybe this is hell. Are you the Devil in disguise, tempting him to cross a line he won’t be able to come back from?

A few minutes later, he pulls up to your building. A really nice one, he notes. You announce you live on the sixth floor. He doesn’t need to know that, does he? Why would you tell him that? Why give that piece of information to a complete stranger?

You linger in the backseat, as though you’re expecting him to turn and look at you. And he does, though not for the reason you might expect. “You got everything?”

Eager and full of life, you nod, clutching your purse to your chest. You avert your gaze to read his ID tag, the one that contains his personal details. “James?”

“Glad you can read,” he utters, pulling out a small bottle of liquor from under the seat. He drains it all in one go, savoring the fleeting burn as it slides down his throat, which is enough to keep him going. “C’mon, kid. I already charged you.”

“You drink while you drive?”

“Keeps me entertained,” he says dryly. It’s the only thing he knows how to do. Raising the empty bottle in your direction, he arches a brow. “Goodnight, darlin’. Leave me a good review on your way out.”

You roll your eyes at him, silent as you exit the vehicle, closing the door behind you. While fumbling for your keys, four words escape your mouth. Casual yet devastating, they ruin him: “I’ll see you around.” 

For a couple of days, you don’t bother him again. Bother—notice the implication of the verb in question.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think of you after that drive. Each time his phone buzzes, a small, restless part of him hopes it’s you, asking for his services, wanting him to be the one you seek out.

And it happens. The best things seem to occur when the moon hangs high and bright.

You: Hi.

He stares at the message, recognition washing over him. He knows it’s you; he can see the other texts you exchanged that night he took you home.

You: Are you working tonight?

You’ve got to be kidding him.

Logan: Why are you texting me?

He types the words with frustration, his thumb hovering over the screen longer than usual. 

You: Why are you answering me?

Oh, you’re smart. 

Logan: Take my advice. Talk to a guy your own age.

You: Damn. Already jumping to conclusions. I was just going to ask you if you wanted to have a drink with me.

Logan: I’m busy.

You: Well, what time do you get off?

Logan: I work all night.

You: Can’t even make a quick stop? I swear it won’t take you more than twenty minutes.

An impulse to throw his phone out the window surges within him, but he manages to restrain himself.

Then, as if on cue, the device vibrates again—of course, it’s you.

You: The drinks are on me. Let me know if you change your mind.

Do you think he’s going to let you pay for him? Absolutely not. 

What surprises him more than the message is how easily he remembers your address. It appears to be ingrained in his mind.

He cancels his next trip, scheduled for ten minutes from now, his new destination being your building.

Once he pulls up, he does what feels most natural: he honks. Multiple times. Maybe he’s lucky and you’ll tell him to fuck off.

But you don’t. You’re laughing as you make your way over to the limo, sliding into the backseat in the same way you did a week ago. Your plan had succeeded—you had him exactly where you wanted.

Far from hiding it, you make it evident, obvious. Your heartbeat thrums in the air, and Logan can hear it loud and clear, like the bass in one of those funky songs he likes.

There’s no room for mistakes. He won’t deny it. Even if the feeling is mutual, he can’t shake the idea that he’s doing something wrong.

In his eyes, you’re the forbidden fruit—irresistible, the ultimate temptation known to humankind, camouflaged in the fur of a pretty woman.

You, his paradise on earth, could only lead to one thing: a longing for a chance with you, which he should never be granted in the first place.

He’s diving headfirst into disgrace, and the more he realizes it, the worse it feels. If he were to be scolded like a child, maybe he’d feel relieved, but he’s no kid. He’s a grown-ass man who should be able to resist.

Yet, self-restraint is like sand slipping through his fingers—never lasting long enough.

“You came.” Astonishment. Uncertainty. Amusement. Blinking your eyes at him, you sit very upright, and you don't even bother fastening your seatbelt. “Honestly? I thought you were going to block me.”

I can’t, he thinks. I wouldn’t be able to. I’m not that strong.

“What happened this time? Another failed date?” he inquires, still not starting the car. A look of perplexity appears on your features, puzzled about why he’s not moving. “Ain’t you forgetting something?” He tugs on his own seatbelt for emphasis, the fabric snapping back into place against his coat.

Once again, you follow his lead. “I don’t need to get stood up to want to see you,” you say, placing your hand on his shoulder for balance—or so he tells himself. It takes him all his willpower not to collapse right then and there. “Besides, I’m not bad company. I’ve been told I can be pretty funny.” 

“I see…” he trails off, catching your gaze through the rearview mirror, not shocked in the slightest to find you waiting for him to look back. “Where to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you should. You invited me.”

How easy it is to make your chest rumble with laughter, the genuine sound bubbling up, pure and unrestrained. He feels like some amateur comedian who has just realized his real passion is to cause this type of response in others.

Except, it’s not just anyone’s laughter he insists on provoking—it’s yours, and yours alone.

An unsettling sensation envelops him the second you retrieve your hand, not before squeezing his shoulder in a friendly manner. “There’s a bar I go to with my friends sometimes,” you suggest after a beat, shoving your phone in the pocket of your jacket. “We could try that one.”

The moment he steps inside, regret washes over him. Why is everyone here under forty? He feels ancient, like fucking Fred Flintstone.

A fossil out of place, meant to dwell in the shadows, not in a scene like this.

When he freezes in the middle of the bar, your fingers intertwine with his, tugging him along, and he follows after you like a lost puppy. The only thing he’s missing is the leash.

You’re met with his quirked eyebrows as you peer into his eyes over your shoulder, a toothy grin threatening to shake the floor beneath his feet. “You know, people usually sit down before they start getting shit-faced.”

“I’m not getting drunk tonight.” Logan exhales a deep breath, trying to hide his discomfort, his eyes scanning the room. “And neither are you,” he practically yells in your ear trying to make himself heard above the pounding music and incessant chatter. He wonders if you even hear him at all.

The two of you eventually settle at the counter, drinking in silence. Logan half-expects one of your comments to pierce through the quiet, but you delight in proving him wrong.

Instead, your head sways gently to the rhythm of the song playing in the background, and you take a trial sip of your beer.

He’s acutely aware of the stares from the rest of the patrons. He can pretend to be oblivious, but the weight of several pairs of eyes burning holes into the back of his neck doesn’t go unnoticed.

Being watched has never been his favorite pastime, and somehow, it feels even more uncomfortable with you by his side.

He knows what those looks imply, can nearly taste the hidden implications behind each fleeting glance.

What’s a girl like you doing with a man like him? A question that makes no sense.

Does he have money? A well-endowed reputation? Did he recently inherit any properties?

Are you truly that desperate for human contact?

Is your bed so cold that you decide to go for the first guy who can string ten words together?

Logan doubts whether this whole experiment is part of the community service you must be doing. Maybe he should look up your name online to see if any criminal records come to the surface.

Now that he takes a moment to ponder it, you certainly fit the mold of the criminal type. The kind who gets what she wants when she wants it, leaving a trail of intrigue on her wake.

His fingers circle the glass so tightly he fears it might shatter into a million shards. You notice his tension, nudging his arm with yours, aiming to meet his eyes.

When you do (because, as he said, criminals have their own ways), you smile, and he internalizes that gesture as something familiar, something he feels he’s grown used to. Something rankled in his memory.

It’s as if he’s known you for a lifetime.

“Thank you for coming,” you say softly, and he may be going down the path of hallucinations,  but your attention remains a little too long on his lips. Then, just as quickly, it flickers back to the rest of his face, and you lean back to drink from your beer once more.

Straight to hell, he thinks, tasting the remnants of whiskey on his tongue, for ever daring to believe himself worthy of even a moment of your precious time.

You’re probably the first person to have his full, undivided attention. And that’s… well, that’s saying something.

Most days, you’re pretty talkative, a steady stream of conversation, your words pouring out in an endless flow.

You tell him about your family, your career, that pet of yours that died when you were six years old. You mention a friend you no longer speak to, and the events that led to the downfall of your friendship.

There’s also that dish from your all-time favorite restaurant, the one you buy at least once a week because it never fails to comfort you.

Nonstop, you talk and talk, and Logan doesn’t mind one bit. Soon, he finds himself becoming an active listener—asking follow-up questions, chuckling at your jokes, even when they’re not funny at all.

He sincerely cares about what you have to say.

This whole situation with you is beyond his comprehension. Before he realizes it, you start wanting to spend more time with him.

Sometimes, you ride along in the passenger seat while he drives aimlessly through the city.

Sometimes, you invite him over, cook a meal, and he always takes the leftovers with him, as if a part of you goes with him when he leaves.

Sometimes, you come over to his place, and the roles reverse—you’re the one with the mic, asking the questions, fully aware that you’re treading on holy ground. 

Logan’s got a sign on his forehead that reads ‘Stop: do not enter.’ It’s rough around the edges, hardened by the years, all capital letters in stark blank ink. But in the end, you just take the sign and set it aside.

He never goes into too much detail. Not because he doesn’t trust you—it’s just that there’s too much to unpack, and you don’t need to know all of it. You’ll be better off not carrying the garbage he does.

Yet, you’ve got him by the throat, encouraging him to cough up disjoined pieces of his life, bits of his day, his thoughts, his feelings. It sounds stupid to him, but you make him feel alive. 

You never judge him, never flinch when he brings up stories from his past. As he sits at your table one afternoon, you look at his hands, his claws fully extended, and you don’t shy away. You rub the pad of your thumb across the rough skin of his knuckles, right where the adamantium tears through his flesh.

You don’t care that he’s a mutant, that he’s killed people. You don’t try to deny who he is or what he’s done. Oddly enough, you just wish to be by his side, staring off into the void with him. 

“But why?” he asks, partly flattered, partly frustrated. This could be compared to learning a new sport from scratch—he can’t figure you out, can’t understand why you haven’t run the other way yet.

He likes your company, though he’s always bracing himself for the inevitable day you find a better hobby and leave.

Your reasoning defies logic, and he’s afraid that at any moment, you’ll grasp the gravity of your choices.

Almost as if you could feel the turmoil brewing in his mind, you simply say: “You’re nice to be around.”

Nice. Nice. Nice. He’d cackle if he were alone. That word reverberates through him. When was the last time someone called him nice?

Bad-tempered, sure.

A pain in the ass? Definitely.

But nice? Not a term people employed to describe him.

It’s a quality reserved for you, with your endless charisma and kind heart, but not for a man of his kind.

He’s nothing more than a chauffeur, a driver, someone who does and says what’s necessary to survive. Does that make him nice? 

When he tells you he’s probably going to hell, you don’t try to make him feel better. Anyone else in your position might try to soothe him, to offer some hollow reassurance.

Your intention isn’t to change him, for him to pretend to be something he’s not. “Then I’ll meet you there,” you mutter, your shiny eyes searing into his. Under the table, your hand finds his, tender fingers grazing over his knuckles, and for once, he doesn’t pull away.

Could it be that an afterlife catching fire doesn’t sound so bad after all?

As much as he likes to admit how easily you can shift his mood, today is not one of those days.

He’s had a nightmare—nothing new, but this one had been… different. The empty bottle on the nightstand hadn’t been of any help; it never does when they visit him in his sleep.

The ghosts of those who used to be his friends, his family, tiptoe around his dreams in the form of shadows.

Blood. Screams. Shouts of his name. He can’t save them all. Walking through the wreckage, he dodges the bodies of those he couldn’t protect, the knot in his throat tightening with every step, not allowing him to breathe.

Wherever he turns, there’s death, destruction. Sadness. Did he save them all?

It’s always the same routine. He wakes up, screaming, chest aching from the effort. His lungs burn, and he has to remind himself that the limbs attached to him are his own and not the remnants of an immobile corpse.

Sweat clings to his skin, pooling at his temples and nape. He wipes it away with the back of his hand, rubbing at the soreness in his neck.

His phone rings somewhere in the distance, pulling him from his dizzy state. He scrambles to his feet, accepting the call just before it hits voicemail.

It's you. Despite it being late, he swears he feels the gentle kiss of the sun over his brow. Your sweet voice chases away the lingering shadows of his dreams, replacing the bitter taste in his mouth with something real—a reason to get up, to start moving.

He holds onto every second of the brief call, replaying those thirty seconds in his head as he steps into the shower. When the cold water shocks his system, it pulls him fully back to consciousness. He has to get ready.

Even though you insist on getting a taxi, he refuses. He doesn’t mind the drive. His gas tank does, his wallet maybe, but Logan? He just doesn’t.

At the end of the day, he’s protective by nature, and who knows what kind of men are roaming the streets at night?

God forbid they’re anything like him—eager to prompt a smile from you, trying too hard to impress you. He arrives at the conclusion that he’d rather lose fuel and money if it means orbiting around you for longer.

You make him feel better, and tonight, he needs it more than ever. He needs you.

(Now he’s driving. He honks five times when he pulls up to your building. You get on the limo, giggling as you say: “My neighbors must hate you.” He grins. You kiss him on the cheek. Subtle. Not the first time. Still, it doesn’t get old. He feels the faint residue of lip gloss on his skin. He doesn’t wipe it off.)

Not in the mood to cook, you declare as you step into his place. The mouth-watering aroma of the Chinese food you bought fills the air, but when he reaches for the bags, you insist that he sit and relax.

Sure, he can take a seat. But to expect him to relax with you around, playing this intricate game? That’s simply impossible. You’re asking for too much. He’s a player at heart, drawn to the thrill of the chase, and he will play along.

What seems inconceivable is the expectation that he can act as if nothing is happening between these four walls.

His attempts to focus on you are futile, as his mind betrays him tonight. All he hears spilling from your lips is pure and plain gibberish. Your very presence is no longer enough to anchor him.

Already immune to your charm, Logan eats his noodles, occasionally nodding when your voice rises at the end of a sentence, indicating a question.

But he nearly chokes on his drink the moment he registers your serious expression, having never witnessed you like this before.

“Are you even here?” you ask, shoving your food aside with a swift motion of your wrist.

What should he answer? What is it that you want to hear? Of course! I’m here, listening to you. It’s a delightful night. Should I start by telling you about my most recent nightmare? Quite the entertainment!

There’s a shake of his head as he lowers his gaze, escaping your concerned expression. “M’sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty.” You tug your chair forward, claiming a piece of his personal space. You know he doesn’t mind. “Want to talk about it? Did something happen?”

“My brain is just… off today.”

“Many thoughts at the same time.” Not a question. Have you completely figured him out?

“Yeah.”

He remains still, dragging his plastic fork across the now-cold steamed veggies, which have lost their appeal.

How amusing—your knees bump against his, drawing his attention. “Can I help you?” It’s new, the breathy tone you’re using, a whisper of agitation weaving through your calm demeanor. 

“Can you erase my memory?” he shoots back, attempting to smirk through the wave of memories that flash behind his eyelids. When he looks into your eyes, the siren in his head blares.

Your pupils are dilated, blown wide, chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweaty palms that you wipe on your jeans. Tongue darting out to lick your lips. Your heartbeat accelerates, drumming wildly like the fluttering of a hummingbird’s wings.

He hasn’t been with a woman in ages, but he knows how they react when they see something they like—or, in this case, someone.

“Logan.” His name rolls off your tongue once more, tinged with an unmistakable need. The thought of checking his temperature dances through his mind, but the heaviness in his limbs roots him in place. He feels feverish. “I want to help you.”

Oh, no. No, no, no, no—

“What—what are you on, sweetheart?” Get up. Find your keys. Drive her home. “You don’t even know what you’re sayin’.”

Saliva floods his mouth as you rise to your feet, looking down at him from above. Gracefully angelic, and yet— “I know what I’m asking for,” you continue, your voice descending to a low murmur that scratches pleasantly against some dark and remote corner of his head. Then you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. You repeat your question: “Can I help you?”

He’s no longer in control of his actions. His right hand crawls up your knee, palming the fabric of your pants. It’s numbing: a lapful of you, your rich smell, your quickened pulse.

Tempting. So fucking tempted to take you right now, just like this, without the need for words. Your bodies can communicate in a language of their own, one that transcends spoken phrases. 

I want you, he lets you know through the way he gropes your breasts over your shirt, squeezing them together. He’s always been good with his hands. But what the hell am I supposed to do with a sweet thing like you?

His patience teeters on the edge of a precipice. “Tell me what you want.”

“I asked you first.”

“You’re gonna pretend you don’t know the answer?” He thrusts into the air, grinding against your clothed core, and you close your eyes. He’s rock hard beneath you, the bulge in his jeans shockingly obscene, bordering on grotesque. “We both know what I want, but I’m no telepath, baby. Need you to speak up.”

Twisting the locks of hair at his nape, you press your lips to his neck. “I want to make you forget, to focus on this moment. I want you to live in the present, Logan.” A bite on his earlobe sends shivers down his spine, and he grips your hips with a primal growl. “I can do whatever you want. Just tell me. Tell me, and I’ll do it, please.”

Please? He’s spiraling. Please? That’s it—he’s doing it. He’ll grant you your plea, which aligns perfectly with his own desires.

Once his back meets the mattress in his room, you get to work. With delicate precision, you pull down his pants, sliding his boxers off until only his thick thighs and the crown of short curls adorning his cock remain in sight. Your fingers tremble slightly before you wrap them loosely around his length, and it springs to life in your grasp.

Your gaze pierces into his, mirroring the intensity of his own. But something holds you back, prompting you to reach for his hand.

At that moment, it all clicks into place. Logan urges your head down onto him, and he’s welcomed by the slick warmth you provide.

Indeed, he’s very much alive.

“That’s it. That’s—fuck. There you go.” 

His fingers dig into the mattress, clutching the cotton sheets, stopping himself from thrusting into your mouth. It’s not that he doesn’t want to—God, he does—but tonight, he’s on his best behavior.

He wipes the trail of drool from your chin, smearing it gently across your cheek, his thumb lingering as he watches your nostrils flare with a strained, muffled gasp.

Bringing his thumb to his mouth, he tastes the wetness on it the same way you’re sucking him: greedily, without any trace of mercy.

This proves I’m going to hell, he thinks, enraptured by the sight of his cock disappearing between your parted lips. Straight to hell.

You draw him back to the present, nuzzling your face against his thigh, your humid breath teasing his thick shaft, pulling him from a deep reverie. Your glossy eyes roam, exploring until they find his, and you gift him an authentic smile. Wrecked and blissed out, it’s as if the lights are on, but no one’s truly home.

He would’ve never guessed how much you reveled in sucking cock, radiating enthusiasm with each of your movements.

“Am I doing it okay?” you wonder aloud, hovering over the tip, swirling your tongue around the velvety head. He’s no fool, and neither are you; deep down, you know you’re doing more than just okay. Actually, you’re giving him the best blowjob of his long, long life.

Each panting, airy praise he huffs fuels your eagerness, making you even more receptive to his desires as the words slip past his lips.

“Fuckin’ amazing, honey. Got me so hard, y’see?” His tone is heavily charged with carnality, gripping himself and smacking the tip against your mouth, the wet sound echoing like music to his ears.

He pulses against your tongue, and you seize the opportunity to trace the thin veins scattered along his length. Gulping, with his gaze fixed on you, Logan notices how you’re still wearing your clothes, wiggling your hips against the mattress, rubbing your thighs together to get something in return. “Are you wet?”

Humming against him, you suck in shaky breath. 

“Words.”

“I’m—I’m wet,” you rasp, voice hoarse. You try to guide him into your mouth and fail miserably, because his grip only tightens, stroking himself instead. “Logan,” you keen, stretching your neck in a silent plea, “don’t be mean.”

“Not mean. Just enjoyin’ myself,” he replies, pulling the foreskin back to expose the head, arching his eyebrows. His fingers curl around your chin, drawing your face nearer to his girth, fascinated by how your eyes flutter shut the more you surrender to the pleasure. “C’mon. Be polite.”

Blame him for it—he believes he’ll never get tired of this game.

“Please.” You whisper, returning to your begging while tenderly rolling his balls, staring at him through your lashes. And then you say it again: “Please.”

Your gaze burns a hole through his crumpled heart. He lets you have it, eager to give whatever you may ask him for. You dive back into it, engulfing his length and bobbing your head up and down with fervor. Hushed whines escape your lips, savoring another bead of his precum.

Logan almost loses it as you hollow your cheeks, instinctively cradling the back of your head. “Easy, baby. M’not going anywhere. Take your time.”

Whenever he feels himself approaching that long-awaited release, he forces his mind to conjure thoughts that will stall his impending orgasm.

The water stains from flooding on the walls.

The supermarket list.

The rising price of gas.

The—

“Fuck. Slow down,” he groans, utterly captivated by the way you point your tongue to draw imaginary patterns along his cock, seemingly memorizing every detail. “Don’t go too hard on me, remember?”

You mumble something under your breath, and at first, he can’t quite make it out. “What is it?”

“I said I want you to fuck me.”

Under no circumstances is he surviving this night.

“Really, doll?” Logan seeks the reassurance he desperately needs, fearing that this is all a dream from which he’ll awaken the moment he properly touches you. “You sure you want this old man to fuck you?”

You’re a rambling mess, murmuring Yes, Logan, please, until he maneuvers you to lie on his chest, his glistening cock sliding against your clothes, leaving a trail of dark spots. A whimper dies on your tongue as you brush your lips together, your hot breath enveloping him. “Give me a kiss at least.”

Tilting your head up, he connects his mouth to yours, growling as he detects the dull, sour tang of what must be him. He sucks your bottom lip, hardly aware of what his hands are doing until he shifts your positions, pinning you down.

Logan tugs at your clothes, peeling them away with urgency, his fingers dancing over your nipples until you’re grinding against his thigh, quivering beneath him. With a nip at your damp skin, his eyes flutter open as he studies your expression, casting you a glance that seeks your permission.

A ripple of desire courses through him when you dutifully turn over beneath him, pressing your face further into the pillow. He runs his knuckles along the curve of your ass, his throat going dry as you follow after his touch, arching your body in response.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, he licks a long, slow stripe up your wet folds, keeping his tongue flat against your clit for a brief moment. Your arms give out and you stumble forward, stuttering as you mewl his name, fully consumed by the feeling.

So he does it again, and again, and again, flicking the sensitive bud, even though you’re already beyond soaked. It’s a pleasure he indulges in simply because he can.

Straight to hell, he thinks, coating his length with your arousal, teasing your entrance while pushing in only the tip. That motion alone is enough to make him draw a trembling breath before he continues, gradually feeding you his cock, inch by inch.

Straight to hell, the voice in his head utters as he buries himself to the hilt deep within your body, his heavy balls resting against your ass.

Like an intruder in your territory, he’s free to do as he pleases, and you let him have his way with you.

If only this moment could stretch into infinity—he longs for time to relent and never draw to a close. 

What will happen after? Will you spend the night? Does he—

“L-Logan,” you mumble, having adjusted to his size. You rock back into him, impaling yourself even more on his cock. “Please, move.”

The pace he establishes is brutal. Your warm, inner walls exquisitely massage him, and the earth as he knows it stops spinning. Fire pools low in his abdomen, his hands holding you by the flesh of your hips to keep you anchored, each thrust driving you closer to the headboard with an intoxicating urgency. 

“You wanted it from the very start, didn’t you?” He doesn’t know if a response will ever come, but these kinds of thoughts are impossible to contain. He’s just a simple man, powerless against the allure of a tight cunt. “Just got in my car and knew it would end like this?”

You roll your eyes at him, silent as you exit the vehicle, closing the door behind you. While fumbling for your keys, four words escape your mouth. Casual yet devastating, they ruin him: “I’ll see you around.” 

His next thrust punches a whine out of your lungs. Even as you clench around him, stuffed and filled to the brim, you beg for him to fuck you harder. He would’ve laughed at you were he able to catch his breath.

With a more deliberate rhythm, he rolls his hips, jackhammering your most sensitive spot, pulling you closer as he wraps an arm around you. When his fingers find your clit, drawing slippery circles, a cry escapes you, and your body merges with the mattress under you.

Your release takes him by surprise, urging him to continue as you reach back, encouraging him to chase his own climax. He knows all too well the struggle of bringing you to this point without succumbing to his pleasure too soon. Your nails graze along his thigh, leaving delicate marks in their wake, and somehow, the passion and bliss he’s been nurturing ignites into a fiery crescendo.

Shortly after, he goes completely rigid inside you, pressing his forehead against your back as he bites down on your shoulder to muffle his groans. His hand squeezes your breast tightly, riding out his high, blood buzzing in his ears, continuing to spill into you. You spam around him, milking him until the last drop of his seed, his release painting your insides with his warmth.

Logan tucks you under his chin as his vision returns to clarity. You nose his jaw, your fingers softly tracing the contours of his beard. He pulls you closer into his chest, gliding his hands up and down your back.

Half a minute of dreadful silence, then: “Can I stay?”

Oh, yes—pillow talk. He’s not great at this either. Despite that, his eyes soften, snapping to your face.

Logan pauses for a moment. “Sure,” he retorts, dragging his fingers along your shoulder blades. He’s a one-word kind of guy. Just perfect.

Tell her you like her. Tell her you don’t want this to be a casual fling. Tell her it’s more than just sex for you.

Or maybe don’t. Get ahold of yourself, will you?

“Logan?” you ask, resting your palm against his heart.

“What is it?”

“I know.”

You do?

Try as he might, he can’t deny it. He might care about you more than he ever realized.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

[roebeanstalk]

6/2 Update: Security deposit has been paid!! Thank you so much to everyone for the help 💚 I still have to pull together all of June rent for my current place which is $675. Thank you everyone for all of the help so far 💚

I’m asking for help with June rent, which is $675 and needs to be paid ASAP.

Cashapp https://cash.app/clawshot

venmo https://venmo.com/rmck89

ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/roebeanstalk

Any help at all is super appreciated. Every dollar adds up, and shares are so helpful too. I know that I’ve received so much help from people in the past and I can’t thank you all enough. I hope that this is the last of these that I have to do.

Needs:

June rent: $23/$675

Security Deposit: $495/495 Paid 💚

Bonus:

July rent (First month at new place): $495

Movers + Uhaul: $300-350

More info on my situation under the cut!

Thank you so, so so much.

I have a history of mental health issues, and as a result I have a very difficult time getting and maintaining employment. My mental health also impacts my ability to keep up with and complete freelance/commission work in a timely manner. While I have made some incredible steps forward lately thanks to the right combo of therapy, medication, and a support system, I am still not at a point where I am self-sufficient yet. I am getting there – and I am committed to keep trying no matter what.

Original post blurb, taken out of main post since deposit has been paid:

My landlord has decided not to move forward with me as a tenant due to my history with payment/mental health. While this is frustrating as heck, it’s allowed me to find a better, more affordable housing situation. I have signed a lease at a new place and move in July 1st!Once the deposit is paid, my space on the lease is officially secured and I am good to go. This is the main thing that I am looking for help with.

Why I need help:

This new housing situation is incredible for me – it’s a room in a quiet house with two other queer folk, and the rent is very affordable compared to my current situation. The new place is $485/month, the current place is $675/month. Even with utilities, my total overhead for shelter will cost less than rent at my current place. If I can secure my spot in this house and move forward, I see such a clear path forward for me in terms of self-improvement and self-sufficiency.

For the first time in 15 years, I feel like I can tackle the things ahead of me. If you’re able to help out I would really, really appreciate it.

What I’m doing:

I am job hunting for something that works well for my situation. With the cost of rent, I think that a part time job will be able to cover it. The process of getting a job is difficult for me, but I am committed to continuing to work at it.

On the art front, I have occasional comic coloring jobs that help me out. I also have commissions – I have finally been moving forward at a good rate and have been really happy with my work. In time, this will be able to be a more standard income route. I also have a Patreon that brings in about $65/month.

Cashapp https://cash.app/clawshot / venmo https://venmo.com/rmck89 / ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/roebeanstalk

Thank you so much for reading over all of this. Thank you to everyone who has helped with donations or kind words or reblogs. Thank you so much to every commissioner and customer who has been patient as hell with me on artwork, communication, and stickers. Thank you thank you thank you. Thanks to every single one of you I have been able to keep pushing myself forward, and I'm so happy to keep doing it and make good on everything. And eventually, give back to my community. I love you all so much, even though i don't know any of you that well. Thank youuuu. <3

[vampiricgf]

— v. lycaon | stay soft, get eaten

·₊̣̇. ⊱ warnings: fem reader, dubcon, aphrodisiac, yandere, oral fem receiving, clit sucking, cervix fucking, knotting, creampie, extremely unrealistic depiction of sex, he calls you master n is a lil obsessed with you, not edited/proofread

wc: 2k+

the grip he has on me is insane now if only he'd be gripping up this [REDACTED] sobs

You were so lucky to have an attendant as well prepared as Lycaon. After spending the evening unable to sleep, angrily listening to birdsong as the light peeking in from the window grew less and less subdued, he had suggested you take a simple supplement and attempt a nap upon seeing you still laying in bed at his arrival. After all getting rest was the most important thing and if something would come up he could easily handle it for you without letting you rest excessively.

Just enough to be able to get through the day yet still feel appropriately tired come night, that was what he promised after handing a small tablet to you which you gratefully accepted. Lycaon had been sweet and thoughtful from the moment he started at your estate with the Victoria Housekeeping contract, and was always so adamant about remaining at your side.

When the room begins to soften at the edges you don't question it, it may be a mild effect from the pill or your own deprived brain. Focusing on the beat of your heart was easier, keeping your eyes closed as you remained tucked into bed. A heaviness spread through your limbs, delicious and reminiscent of a sleepy cat in the honeyed afternoon sun as you roll onto your back to stretch against the warm sheets.

The brush of them against your skin sends an unfamiliar sort of heat spreading beneath the surface of your body, an odd feeling of wishing it was replaced with physical touch, yearning suddenly for a certain thiren that you knew wouldn't be far from your bedroom.

You try ignoring the growing ache between your thighs, uncomfortably turning over and over from side to side as the temperature rises. Before long you have to thrash the covers off to rest barely covering your legs, nearly panting with the volatile mixture of desire and no sleep.

Thinking of calling for him you bite your bottom lip, a small whimper coming from low in your throat. As you struggle with the inappropriateness of the urge little do you know he's just opposite the bedroom door, listening intently to you with barely contained self satisfaction thrumming through his veins.

It's hardly appropriate for an attendant to be pining after their master, but say you were feeling struck by some overpowering need, what kind of attendant would he be to refuse if you begged for his help? Truly he'd done it on a whim, it just so happened that today was the perfect opportunity to act and perhaps it was simply fate.

"Master?"

His voice jolts you out of the thick fog of lust as he steps through the doorway, unable to bear the sounds of you whimpering for him any longer. With quick steps he's beside you, a hand coming to rest delicately against your forehead which nearly makes you moan from the contact. Your skin glistened with a sheen of sweat and the scent of your arousal was heady in the balmy air, if he were less composed it would've made him drool instantly.

"Are you ill?" Faux concern laces the words as his eyes trail from your face to your heaving chest, your top having bunched up just beneath your breasts was a tantalizing challenge to his self control.

"I can't sleep- feels like I'm on fire," you whine, your eyes fluttering closed and he's grateful for the chance to ogle you openly.

"Do you require my help?" The tone of the question leaves little room for interpretation, the almost breathy way he asks betraying how clear your neediness is to him.

It should make you embarrassed, you should wave him away with a demure no I'll be fine but you can't bring yourself to speak the words aloud, nearly choking on how much you ache for him to touch you again. In a distant corner of your disconnected mind you wonder if thirens can smell things like arousal and perhaps that's why he offered. It makes your thighs clench together hard, the muscles flexing beneath the skin. How lucky you were to have someone so dedicated to attending to your needs that he'd even offer.

"Wouldn't be- appropriate-" you force the words out between deep breaths, desperately trying to regain some self control as your eyes find his.

He looked so handsome knelt by your bed, his singular visible eye shining with concern. You want to smooth the worry from his face with a hundred deep, frantic kisses, so powerful is the urge it's more like being gripped by madness.

"You don't need to worry, as my master I can't let you remain in this state without intervention." The words are so syrupy sweet to your ears, his voice low and sending delightful shivers down your spine.

If he's saying it's okay then why worry about impropriety? Once again you can't help the surge of thankfulness at his presence and his loyalty to you.

Gingerly he grasps your hand in his much larger one, bringing your arm up before placing the softest kiss to your inner wrist. The sensation of his lips against your skin is enough to make you squirm, back arching slightly just from the barest contact.

"Mm, don't know what's wrong with me," you breathe harshly as his mouth maps a trail from your wrist up your arm, your shoulder, and before you register it he's above you and those clawed hands are roaming the overheated skin of your stomach and it feels like every sense you have is being overcrowded by him.

If you had the wherewithall you would have perhaps been ashamed to be so openly writhing and moaning beneath him with your hands fisting in the material of his shirt but given the way he makes you feel like you'll crack apart in the next millisecond there was simply no room for things like humiliation or shame.

"Will you let me help you, my master?"

The request is accompanied by the feeling of him sucking on the side of your neck, sharp teeth barely ghosting over the delicate flesh he could easily rip. Why does everything feel so much more sensitive than usual? If you could think straight it would be a more pertinent question, but against the feeling of his hands cupping your breasts and urging you to help him remove your shirt the concern washes away like sugar in hot water.

In a way Lycaon is glad for your habit of wearing little to nothing in bed, because it feels like this is exactly what you wanted to happen. Each evening it was like the single greatest test of his resolve to not immediately give in to the urge that screamed to rip those skimpy clothes off you and fuck you until your pretty eyes were full of tears and that tongue of yours was only good for sounding out his name.

And he hadn't lied earlier, not fully. That pill would help you with your sleeping troubles eventually but the less than mild aphrodisiac effects would kick in first. It's no concern though, because that's what he's here for, to service you as his master. And so what if it happens to be a shockingly convenient avenue for satisfying his own desires? Who could blame a devoted attendant for loving their master so greatly?

As you shift your hips impatiently he's all too eager to indulge you, hooking a hand beneath your thigh and pushing one leg up in order to slot himself better between your legs and feel the tantalizing heat radiating from the apex of your thighs.

You can feel the way his bulge throbs against you through your clothes and it's exciting, like his body is begging for just the same release as yours and his movements have taken on a more predatory tinge- caging your body with his forearms on either side of your head now, nipping and sucking at your bottom lip in between sloppy kisses and the rhythmless, frantic grinding of his hips against yours.

"Want you, please," it leaves your lips as a pathetically desperate whine as you roll your hips to meet his in a pantomime of unclothed thrusts. Feeling his erection strain against layers of clothing has only served to make you feel even more delirious, like you're on fire and he's all that could hope to put it out.

"Like this?" The question is needy, nakedly desperate and it makes your fingers claw against his soft fur, pulling him down to kiss you again in a flurry of teeth and tongues.

You give an airy mhm and his head dips down to your chest with a particularly sinful groan, teeth ghosting over the swell of your breast before his hands are on you again, nearly ripping the flimsy pajama bottoms off of you in his haste to get you undressed and knowing you're so impossibly close to finding relief for the all consuming ache in your body makes you sigh contentedly for the first time as the air brushes against your clammy skin.

His movements are quick, snaking down on his belly and brushing his nose against the skin of your inner thighs. You can hear the deep inhale he takes, feel the way your body flushes hot in response. His hands run up and down your feverish skin, riling you up and when his tongue licks a fat stripe all the way up your flesh until his face is pressed against your pussy you can't help the way you moan his name so brokenly, a sound more akin to cracking porcelain.

And it's then that his self restraint seems to snap cleanly in two, his claws nearly digging into your thighs, nose bumping against your achingly puffy clit as his tongue delved inside your soaked entrance. It was impossible, feeling him as deeply as you were and he wasn't even using his fingers. Your own twisted into the bedsheets so hard they should have torn, your mouth open as your hips bucked wildly against his face.

Soon enough he held one arm across your hips to pin you down and lessen your squirming, alternating between lapping at your clit and sucking on it, his sharp canines occasionally brushing dangerously against the sensitive bundle of nerves. With every drag of his tongue it felt like a coil winding back tighter and tighter inside your gut, hands fumbling to touch any part of him you could grasp as he retained his unrelenting pace never wavering in the attention he lavished your pussy with.

And all too soon he's pulling away from you, leaving you to keen high and pathetic at the loss of him, panicked eyes frantically locked on his figure as he drags himself back up to face you. Before you can whine too much he's shushing you with a deep, languid kiss and giving you the secondhand aftertaste of yourself on his tongue. For a brief moment you wonder if you've died and this is the afterlife: one long satisfaction of desire.

"I don't mean to tease, but I need you in another manner master." And you don't need to to ask what he means, feeling what must be his painfully hard erection rubbing against your bare, soaked cunt. Thrilled eagerness skips like electricity through your bloodstream, already rolling your hips to beg for it before your mouth even opens.

And like the wonderful attendant he is Lycaon obliges before you have to say a word. His hands deftly shed his clothes, now rumpled and twisted, before discarding them on the floor in a heap. Your bottom lip catches so hard between your teeth at the sight of him it's a miracle you don't draw blood.

Even in your most vivid fantasies there's simply no way you could capture just how gorgeous he was, and you can feel your eyes widen as they settle on the sight of his now freed cock. The tapered tip, flushed red and needy, glistening with precum, the girth of him enough to make your eyes water, and the length promising that he can easily kiss that spot inside you that turns your vision to static.

You could start drooling from how badly you need him inside you, a fresh wave of overzealous longing battering against your mind like waves against a rocky coastline. As he leans down, supporting himself on one forearm beside your head you meet his eyes again, seeing an amused look on his face that made you squirm in embarrassment at being caught so openly admiring him.

The scent of arousal and sweat is so thick in the air even you can catch it, it must be driving him insane. The thought nearly makes you giggle but the press of him against your entrance cuts off any sound you could hope to make, mouth left hanging open as he starts the slow press inside. Tears instantly push against your waterline, threatening to spill both from the painful adjustment to his size and because nobody has ever made you feel so full before.

He's barely midway inside and you're already panting, chest heaving as you mewl out his name and grab onto his shoulders like he's the only stable thing in the world. Your fingers find purchase in his soft, snowy fur and as his swollen, fat knot settles against your entrance you feel a rush of the most perfect bliss. Like you two were made for each other.

The delirious thought takes root as he kisses his way from your lips to your jaw, down your throat before giving you a few gentle nips with his teeth just to make you gasp and tighten your grip on him before he begins moving.

His pace is slow, almost loving, as you feel every vein as he pulls out only to inch back inside you with ease now thanks to your excess of arousal mingling with his saliva. You can't help the way your toes curl against nothing but the air as you move to grab onto your own thighs, desperate already to feel him deeper and once again, Lycaon follows your whims dutifully.

You can't help but cry out incoherently as he presses into you again and again, the head of his cock hitting so far inside you it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs.

But it's still not enough, and you feel that coil resume it's firm windback into position, almost ready to spring.

"Please, feels so good," you gasp out, "need more- harder -" you squeal with a particularly deep thrust against your cervix and ever the gentleman he doesn't make you ask again.

Groaning low and gravelly he cages you fully with his forearms, burying his snout into the side of your neck as the obscene sounds of skin slapping and the squelching of your greedy cunt drown out anything else. Distantly you hear his claws ripping through the sheets but you can't be bothered to care, not when he's got tears running down your cheeks and your pussy clamping down on his so hard, desperate to keep him inside.

You can feel him throbbing as you curl your fingers deeper into his fur, crying out his name as the tension inside your belly reaches a head, making your eyes screw shut and your head press back against the pillows.

His own ragged breathing doesn't register to you, so lost in the throughs of your own orgasm, but his teeth are gritted, bared in a silent snarl feeling the way you clamp down, the way your walls rhythmically try milking him for all he's worth and in an instinct driven haze his hips move in an even more brutal pace, sure to leave bruises against your tender flesh as the maddening need to cum inside you overwhelms him.

There's no way he could stop himself now and he muffles your cries with sloppy, apologetic kisses, tasting the tang of saltwater as his knot finally pushes it's way in, sitting securely against the ring of muscle at your entrance and he can't stop himself from saying your name against your lips, again and again like a mantra as thick, warm spurts of cum drown your womb.

You remain locked together, you a mess of hiccuping moans and shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm and him grinding against you as if he could still fuck more of his cum even further inside you.

Your ankles shakily lock around his hips and one of his arms slides under your back, hand finding it's way down to grope and squeeze your ass as he whispers to you, words of thanks for indulging him and for allowing him to be of service that swirl dreamily around in your head as your fingers start gingerly stroking against his silky fur, soothing the spots you had twisted and tugged.

In a far away corner of your mind you recognize that this is the first time he's ever used your name to address you. It makes you smile, small and twinged with sleep. You know once he's no longer inside you he'll adamantly clean you up, move you to a different space and ensure you can sleep comfortably while h tidies your wrecked bed.

But another part of you wonders if you could convince him to forgo it all and just stay like this, warm and tangled together.

Maybe if you ask sweetly.

[writingmar]

nsfw ੈ✩‧₊˚ mdni

'𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝.'

𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘥 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

i can't stop thinking about reid coming home to you after a long day, and you helping him to relieve some tension...

wc: 1.1k

contents and tw: smut, slight overstimulating, masturbation, oral (m receiving) spencer being a needy soft boy, sub!reid, softdom!reader.

a/n: this is my first time writing smut but i've been OBSESSED with criminal minds (especially reid) for the past week and i needed to get this out of my head and into words.

the bau had a particularly hard case, and he only flew back from texas late last night. when he opens the door, you hear him sigh loudly as he drops his keys in a bowl. as he notices the light still on, he calls out your name. 'yeah?' you call out from the couch. as spencer walks into the living room, he sees you on the couch, the TV showing your comfort show as you're cuddled up under a blanket.

'what are you doing still up, baby? it's late, don't you have work tomorrow?' he asks, dropping himself down onto the couch. you reach over to rub his shoulder and lift the blanket, which he accepts as an invitation to cuddle up next to you.

'oh, i just wanted to see you. with your job i'll take any moment with you i can get,' you tell him, kissing his forehead as he lays down on your chest with his eyes closed. spencer smiles, stretches his legs and furrows his eyebrows with a soft groan.

'what's wrong, baby?' you ask, stroking his hair. he opens his eyes and turns to look at you. 'oh, it's nothing. it's been a long day, i'm just a bit tense,' he says, smiling to make you less worried.

'awh, my love,' you say, exaggerated empathy in your voice, 'do you need some help to relieve your tension?' spencers eyes sparkle, childlike excitement in his eyes. he nods, 'mhm-mhm,' he hums thru his closed mouth.

you love it when he gets like this, when one sentence from your lips changes him from the cool-headed fbi agent to a needy little boy, and luckily, you know exactly what he needs.

you move your hand down under the blanket and palm him thru his trousers. 'yeah, baby? do you need me to help you feel good?' you ask him, his eyes already closing at the simple touches you give him.

he's so tightly wound up, you can't imagine what kind of sick mastermind he had to deal with today, but luckily he'll always be the bigger mastermind, and he'll always come home to you. and right now, this big mastermind is whimpering in your arms, making soft noises at soft strokes thru his jeans, and who are you to deny him?

you reach for his belt buckle, undoing it and reaching into his underwear. the moment your hands touch his already hard cock, spencer shuts his eyes tightly, a soft moan escaping from his lips. you let go of him, causing his eyes to snap open, searching your face for why you'd stop. 'eyes on me, love,' you tell him.

he licks his lips and nods, staring into your eyes with desperation. you smile at him, 'good boy,' before moving your hand back down to his cock. when you start to move your hand, softly stroking him and teasing his tip, you see how he wants to close his eyes again with pleasure, but he works so hard to keep them open, to do as you said.

you pick up the pace, but still keeping slow. the more sounds he makes, the whimpers and high moans coming from him, the more you wanna make him feel good, but feeling good to reid was not just a quick release. he enjoys the chase, the slow build up.

'please, baby... faster, please,' he begs, his eyes still focussed on you. you smirk at him, 'your wish is my command,' you say and you're met with surprise. you speed up your pace, and you're met with more whimpers and desperate pleas.

'oh god, oh god, baby, i'm close, i'm so, so-' he pants, desperation coating his words. when he's about to cum, he shuts his eyes instinctively. the second you lose his eye contact, your hand stills.

spencer whimpers, furrowing his brows. 'no... no, no, no,' he groans in desperation. 'you were doing so well, baby. being such a good boy for me, but you have to keep it up if you want to be rewarded,' you say. he opens his eyes again, determined and desperate.

'i'll behave, i promise. i'll be good, i'll be so, so good. i can do it,' spencer said, his eyes fixed on you. you smile with satisfaction. 'oh, really? you can do it?' you ask. after he nods, you start to move. spencer looks at you confused, almost clinging to your collar, but the second he notices you're moving to get on your knees in front of him, he stretches his arms out over the back of the couch, his eyes still fixed on yours.

he lifts himself off the couch slightly as you pull his cock out of the confines of his underwear. you lower your head towards him, slowly, keeping eye contact the entire time. with you on your knees in front of him, spencer feels more confident, but there's no confusion about who is in control of this situation.

you take him into your mouth, and a hiss escapes from his mouth. 'oh, fuck baby...' he groans. you move down, taking him deeper into your mouth until your nose touches the skin at his base. you gag, and spencer moves his hand to tangle in your hair. not to hold you there, but to appreciate.

you lift away from him, and back down, settling into a steady pace as his precum coats your tongue. 'please, please don't... don't stop, please, you feel... feel so good...' spencer moans in between pants.

his head falls further and further back as his breathing quickens, his whimpers turning into louder moans as he comes closer to his breaking point. when he's almost there, just seconds away from his release, he makes the same mistake as before, throwing his head back and shutting his eyes. you pull away from him, resting his tip on your tongue.

this time, however, spencer can't accept the wait any longer. he moves his hand to the back of your head and thrusts into your mouth, and you take it. it doesn't take more than a few frantic thrusts until his cum is shooting into your mouth, and you swallow every drop.

he lets out a deep breath, moving his head back up to look back into your eyes. 'i'm sorry...' he says, soft guilt in his eyes. his hand moves to your cheek and his thumb softly strokes your skin.

you lean into his hand and close your eyes with a smile. 'it's okay, my love,' you say before getting up from the floor and sitting back down on the couch, snuggling into his side. 'i can never stay mad at you for long.'

[subjectsix]

KIP'S BIG POST OF THINGS TO MAKE THE INTERNET & TECHNOLOGY SUCK A LITTLE LESS

Post last updated November 23, 2024. Will continue to update!

Here are my favorite things to use to navigate technology my own way:

A refurbished iPod loaded with Rockbox OS (Rockbox is free, iPods range in price. I linked the site I got mine from. Note that iPods get finicky about syncing and the kind of cord it has— it may still charge but might not recognize the device to sync. Getting an original Apple cord sometimes helps). Rockbox has ports for other MP3 players as well.

This Windows debloater program (there are viable alternatives out there, this one works for me). It has a powershell script that give you a little UI and buttons to press, which I appreciate, as I'm still a bit shy with tech.

Firefox with the following extensions: - Consent-O-Matic (set your responses to ALL privacy/cookie pop-ups in the extension, and it will answer all pop-ups for you. I can see reasons to not use it, but I appreciate it) - Facebook Container ("contains" Meta on Facebook and Instagram pages to keep it from tracking you or getting third party cookies, since Meta is fairly egregious about it) - Redirect Amp to HTML (AMP is designed for mobile phones, this forces pages to go to their HTML version) - A WebP/AVIF image converter - uBlock Origin and uBlacklist, with the AI blacklist loaded in to kill any generative AI results from appearing in search engines or anywhere.

Handbrake for ripping DVDs— I haven’t used this in awhile as I haven’t been making video edits. I used this back when I had a Mac OS

VLC Media Player (ol’ reliable)

Unsplash & Pexels for free-to-use images

A password manager (these often are paid. I use Dashlane. There are many options, feel free to search around and ask for recs!). There is a lot that goes into cybersecurity— find the option you feel is best for you.

Things I suggest:

Understanding Royalty Free and the Creative Commons licenses

Familiarity with boolean operators for searching

Investing in a backup drive and external drive

A few good USBs, including one that has a backup of your OS on it

Adapter cables

Avoiding Fandom “wikias” (as in the brand “Fandom”) and supporting other, fan-run or supported wikis. Consider contributing if its something you find yourself passionate or joyful about.

Finding Forums for the things you like, or creating your own*

Create an email specifically for ads/shopping— use it to receive all promotional emails to keep your inbox clean. Upkeep it.

Stop putting so much of your personal information online— be willing to separate your personal online identity from your “online identity”. You don’t owe people your name, location, pronouns, diagnoses, or any of that. It���s your choice, but be discerning in what you give and why. I recommend avoiding providing your phone number to sites as much as possible.

Be intentional

Ask questions

Talk to people

Remember that you can lurk all you want

Things that are fun to check out:

BBSes-- here's a portal to access them.

Neocities

*Forums-- find some to join, or maybe host your own? The system I was most familiar with was vbulletin.

MMM.page

Things that have worked well for me but might work for you, YMMV:

Limit your app usage time on your smartphone if you’re prone to going back to them— this is a tangible way to “practice mindfulness”, a term I find frustratingly vague ansjdbdj

Things I’m looking into:

The “Pi Hole”— a raspberry pi set up to block all ads on a specific internet connection

VPNs-- this is one that was recommended to me.

How to use computers (I mean it): Resources on how to understand your machine and what you’re doing, even if your skill and knowledge level is currently 0:

This section I'll come back an add to. I know that messing with computers can be intimidating, especially if you feel out of your depth. HTML and regedits and especially things like dualbooting or linux feel impossible. So I want to put things here that explain exactly how the internet and your computer functions, and how you can learn and work with that. Yippee!

[cutielando]

celebrations are in order | m.v.

social media au

synopsis: in which you make the most of his third wdc

my masterlist

liked by maxverstappen1, francisca.cgomes and 3,291,483 others

yourusername feels so good being back at the paddock tagged: maxverstappen1

view all 857,313 comments

maxverstappen1 out of all the pictures you took of me...

yourusername i love these

maxverstappen1 of course you do

redbullracing Glad to have you back, Y/N!

francisca.cgomes MY WIFE BACK IN THE PADDOCK ❤️❤️

yourusername i missed you sooooooo much !!! ❤️❤️

lilymhe GIRL LUNCH !!!!!!

user1 THE PEOPLE'S WAG IS BACK IN THE PADDOCK

user2 all is well when Y/N is in the garage😩😩

alex_albon max will finally be in a good mood

maxverstappen1 i can read these, you know

yourusername that's why i'm here. we're all tired of moody max😔

maxverstappen1 I CAN READ THESE

user3 our good luck charm has arrived ❤️❤️

user4 like he needs a good luck charm to dominate the entire grid🥲

landonorris what took you so long?

yourusername some people have a life, you know?

landonorris not when you're involved in f1 they don't

yourusername you're lucky i like you, otherwise you would have received a rant 😠

maxverstappen1 i've received one. trust me mate, you don't want to be on the receiving end

yourbff still sad you didn't take me with you 😔

yourusername you are literally on the other side of the globe⁉️

yourbff i don't see your point

yourusername maxverstappen1 help me out here

maxverstappen1 i'm not getting between you two again

user5 Y/N, do you think Max will win the championship after this race?

yourusername i am keeping my fingers crossed, he has had an incredible season and i think he's going to do everything in his power to end it on a high🫶🏻

user4 so well said

user6 Y/N being there for his Championship title win >>>>

user7 i want a relationship like theirs:(((((

user8 if they ever break up, i'm going to stop believing in love😭

charles_leclerc it's nice to have you back, y/n. haven't seen you in a while

yourusername it feels so good to be back. life has been kicking my ass but I'M BACK BITCHES

carlossainz55 FORZA FERRARI

yourusername wow, too much dude...

charles_leclerc ...

maxverstappen1 ...

carlossainz55 ...sorry...

victoriaverstappen i've missed you so much!!!! so glad to have you back, the boys are excited to see auntie Y/N!!❤️❤️❤️

yourusername i can't wait to see my favorite little munchkins ❤️❤️❤️

maxverstappen1 what about me?

yourusername i’m sorry, babe. you can’t compete with lio and luka for this one

victoriaverstappen you could never compete with them

maxverstappen1 wow, betrayed by my own blood..

liked by yourusername, victoriaverstappen and 5,391,584 others

maxverstappen1 I cannot thank everyone enough. Being on this journey, achieving what we have achieved together this season has been incredible. A massive thank you to the team and for everything they do for us, a shoutout to my family for always supporting me and a special thanks to my Y/N. I couldn't have done any of this without you, I love you.❤️ tagged: redbullracing and yourusername

view all 958,251 comments

yourusername watching you race and do what you love is my favorite thing. i'm proud of you beyond words and i can't wait to see what you do in the future. i love you so much❤️🫶🏻

maxverstappen1 thank you for being you🩵

redbullracing You are one of a kind, Max. Seeing you go down in history books right before our eyes is the biggest privilege. Let's finish the season on a high together and look forward to next year!💙 liked by maxverstappen1 and yourusername

landonorris well done, mate. the y/n effect was obvious

maxverstappen1 thanks mate

yourusername you're just jealous i didn't cheer you on as loudly

landonorris i'm deeply hurt, actually

maxverstappen1 dude, get your own cheerleader and stop trying to steal mine

yourusername boys, don’t worry, you know i support everyone almost equally

landonorris almost?

yourusername i’ll always be a redbull girlie at heart

schecoperez let's go!!! liked by maxverstappen1

user1 he did it for Y/N i'm sobbing😭😭😭

user2 UNSTOPPABLE MAX STRIKES ONCE AGAIN🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻👏👏👏👏🩵

user3 the tribute to Y/N had me in tears >>>>>>>>>>>

user4 they are such a power couple😩😩😩💙

user5 the season was boring, max is taking all the fun out of the sport by winning all the damn time💀

yourusername he deserves every single win that he gets, he's good. if you believe the sport is boring, don't watch it. stop hating on drivers just because they are successful, you have no idea what it's like to be in their shoes

user2 PERIOD👏👏👏

user1 QUEEN ATE AND LEFT NO CRUMBS👸🫶🏻

user3 YOU TELL THEM Y/N

victoriaverstappen we're so proud of you, Max. you're truly one of a kind🩵

maxverstappen1 i love you guys❤️

yourusername you guys are making me cry😭😭

maxverstappen1 baby, you literally just stopped crying a minute ago

yourusername I CAN’T HELP IT OKAY⁉️⁉️

alex_albon max once again making all of us look bad

maxverstappen1 i’m sorry man

yourusername you don’t need his help for that

alex_albon ouch

user9 BABABAHAHQHQHQHQ Y/N WAS SUCH A SAVAGE FOR THIS HAHAHAHA

georgerussell63 party tonight?

maxverstappen1 you know it

yourusername brave yourselves

christianhorner always a pleasure watching you work your magic, Max 👏

maxverstappen1 thank you, christian. your support means very much to me

yourusername awww, you’re like father and son🥹🥹

christianhorner we might as well just adopt him

gerihalliwellhorner 2 kids isn’t enough for you?

christianhorner no

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 3,194,853 others

yourusername words cannot begin to describe the pride i feel when i look at this man. Max, the things you have achieved have completely made me fall in love with you all over again. your dedication, your talent and your craft are a delight to experience and i can't be more grateful to be the one you share life with. i'm looking forward to seeing what the future has in store for you, and know that i'll be with you every single step of the way. i love you, my world champion❤️ tagged: maxverstappen1

view all 763,192 comments

maxverstappen1 forever grateful that you exist in my life❤️i don’t know what i did to deserve you

yourusername you’re gonna make me cry again😭❤️

maxverstappen1 please don’t

yourusername too late

francisca.cgomes i have never seen you cry so much, it made me cry with you 😭😭😭❤️

yourusername i love you ❤️❤️😭😭

pierregasly what..?

maxverstappen1 don’t even ask

yourusername YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND 😭

francisca.cgomes DON’T JUDGE US 😭😭😭😭

yoursister the entire family is sending Max the biggest congratulations !!! we can’t wait to see both of you to celebrate properly ❤️❤️

yourusername ❤️❤️❤️we miss you guys

maxverstappen1 thank you very much !!! looking forward to celebrating with the in-laws ❤️

landonorris when did you become the simp in the relationship?

yourusername don’t you have better things to do?

landonorris not really

maxverstappen1 you should get a hobby

landonorris annoying your girlfriend is my favorite hobby🤭🤭

oscarpiastri do i have to come to the party? 🫣

yourusername yes

maxverstappen1 only if you want to, we’re getting shitfaced either way

oscarpiastri so i can not come? 🥹

yourusername you’re coming, end of story.

user1 Y/N dragging Oscar to Max’s party is the most Y/N thing ever 😂😂

user2 poor Oscar must be regretting his life choices right about now 💀

oscarpiastri i am (please send help)

user1 BABAHQHQH OSCAH😭😭

user3 you can tell how much she loves him 😭❤️❤️

user4 i’m 100% positive Max couldn’t have achieved all of this without Y/N

user5 why? she didn’t do anything to help him at all

user4 it’s not all about performance on the track, a lot of factors go into it. she’s been supporting him for a very long time and that means a lot for someone with a lifestyle like his

user3 exactly, every driver needs someone to help them disconnect from the chaos that follows them all year round during the season

alex_albon you’re such a simp

georgerussell63 simp

charles_leclerc simp

landonorris simp

oacarpiastri simp

maxfewtrell simp

yourusername MAX????

maxverstappen1 …

yourbff your boyfriend is a beast

yourusername i know 🤭 that he is, in more ways than one

maxverstappen1 you know it 😏😋

yourbff HORNY ASSES

lilymhe can’t wait to get drunk and celebrate tonight!!

yourusername you and me both girl 😅

maxverstappen1 me three

liked by yourusername, victoriaverstappen and 3,201,835 others

maxverstappen1 safe to say i remember nothing from last night tagged: yourusername and 9 others

view all 854,281 comments

yourusername it might be for the best

maxverstappen1 was i that bad?

yourusername no... 🤐

landonorris damn right you don't

maxverstappen1 what is that supposed to mean?

landonorris you downed a whole bottle of tequila in less than half an hour. by yourself.

yourusername while taking sips from my drink as well

maxverstappen1 i was thirsty, ok?

oscarpiastri i am never drinking with you again😩

maxverstappen1 what did i do?

yourusername you wanted to undress him in front of the whole club and have him play limbo with you naked

oscarpiastri you didn't have to give the details...

maxverstappen1 i would've loved to see it either way

yourusername MAX!! LEAVE OSCAR ALONE

maxverstappen1 fine...😔

oscarpiastri thank you Y/N😅

georgerussell63 my liver hates you right now

maxverstappen1 don't blame me, it's not like i poured alcohol down your throat

yourusername you did

maxverstappen1 oh..

user1 these comments are just confirming what a party animal Max is and i'm here for it 🤣🤣

user2 y/n sounds so done hahahah😭😭

alex_albon i have no words left

maxverstappen1 i'm sorry for whatever i have done to you

alex_albon we vowed never to speak of it

yourusername this discussion is over

redbullracing sigh... giving us a run for our money, aren't you? 😆

maxverstappen1 i like keeping you guys entertained

redbullracing very kind of you. don't do it again 😐

user3 did y/n not drink?

yourusername i did, but i was relatively sober so i could keep an eye on everyone haha

yourusername i love you <3 even when you're drunk and unhinged

maxverstappen1 i love you too, thank you for taking care of me ❤️

user4 y/n taking care of max >>>>>>>>

user5 i love them. 😭😭😭❤️

charles_leclerc great singing on your part

yourusername i thought we agreed we weren't gonna mention the singing...

maxverstappen1 I SANG????????????

charles_leclerc oh yes, very loudly so

maxverstappen1 yourusername never let me drink again

yourusername i couldn't stop you if i wanted to

maxverstappen1 damn.. wild night, hehe

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

[fresalana]

you told me your new man don't make you nut that's a damn shame.

synopsis: showing caitlin what it feels like to feel.

warnings: referring to c*nnor, sex. idk how to write warnings.

type: long blurb?

a/n: new tag. first time writing smut. i hope y'all missed me, because i missed y'all.

you knew caitlin wasn't cumming the way she deserved to. c*nnor was definitely not making that happen. she was constantly working hard, giving but never receiving. you wanted to help your friend relax; you wanted to her show her what it was like to feel. you wanted her to understand that dick wasn't the only thing that could make a woman cum. not that she was getting any real dick, anyway.

caitlin's back arched involuntarily off of the bed, a whimper leaving her lips as her hands gripped the bedding tightly – she was going to rip holes in it if she continued gripping it any harder.

"i feel like i'm gonna die, please," caitlin whispered, the desperation in her voice evident as she looked down at you, pleading with you to do something.

"you're not gonna die." you replied, rolling your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. she had squirted at least eight times on the towel beneath her. your fingers were deep inside her pussy, massaging her g-spot, forcing her to cum again and again. your thumb was rubbing her aching clit.

she knew she wasn't going to die, but you were driving her so insane that it felt like she was. "i feel like i am," caitlin whined quietly, her body shaking slightly, her head falling back against a pillow.

you leaned down, kissing her aching clit. "again, you're not gonna die, cait" with your voice muffled against her wet pussy, you licked a stripe up her clit, causing her hips to chase after your mouth. your teasing and condescending remarks were driving caitlin insane – and it wasn't the good kind of insane.

"yes i am," caitlin whimpered, shaking her head. "please, oh my god," and even caitlin could admit that she was being totallydramatic.

"all you can say is please." you scoffed, pumping your fingers into and out of her pussy at a rapid, steady pace with a wet plap! the fact that you had so much power over caitlin was irritating, she'd never admit that. she would never tell you, but there was a certain level of irritation when she was so desperate for something only you could give her.

"mmm," caitlin whined in response, her back arching and hips bucking into your hand, her head falling back against the pillow. "i - i can't, please please-"

"can't what?"

caitlin had no idea what she was even capable of saying and doing at this point, the only thing she was thinking about was what you could do to her. she had completely lost control of her body and was completely at your mercy, and it was killing her.

"i can't take it, i - i really can't," caitlin's words were cut off bay a whine, her hands still gripping the bedding on the bed.

"you want me to stop?"

there were many things caitlin wanted to say and do – but she was too busy feeling the pleasure and overstimulation that you were giving her, which made it difficult to form sentences.

"no, no, keep going, don't stop – oh please -"

"you don't even know what you're saying." you sighed, massaging her g-spot faster.

"your boyfriend ever make you cum before? hm?" your words were, once again, incredibly annoying but arousing to caitlin, who really didn't want to think about c*nnor. being with you was nothing like the relationship she's in now.

"no, god, never," caitlin responded through a whimper, looking down at you. "never like this." your words were incredibly true, and they bothered caitlin; her boyfriend was nothing like you. with you she felt so much more comfortable, free to lay back and have north care for her without having to worry about anything.

"mhm. he probably didn't even fuck you. made you do alll the work. you don't have to do that here, baby. just lay here and "feel .." as you planted a gentle kiss on her stomach, you quickly moved your thumb in tight, fast circles over her clit.

"i love you," caitlin spoke quietly, her eyes shut tightly as she trembled, her back arching as she came again that night. safe to say she'd be coming back for more, and more, and more..

[glorystark]

Empty eyes | Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean doesn't take Charlie's death too well and because of the Mark of Cain affecting him, he tells you things that will regret.

Warnings: moc!Dean Winchester, Dean being a dick, minor mentions of injury, swearing, ANGST, major character's death

Pairing: Dean Winchester × reader

Featuring: Sam Winchester

Word count: 2,3k

We watched in agony as Charlie's body, wrapped around a white sheet, burned in the flames. This should never have happened to her kind soul. She died so we could save Dean. I couldn't help but feel guilty; my heart ached because I lost a friend, again. I knew Sam felt the same. We both asked Charlie for help with the Book of the Damned, and we both lied to Dean about the book being destroyed. Now it was too late to make things right. Memories flashed through my eyes, making me tear up. I remembered when she helped us with the Dick situation, or when I taught her some hunter-kind-of-tricks. How happy she was and wouldn't stop thanking me. She didn't deserve this, anyone but her.

“Charlie,” Sam started, grabbing my and probably Dean's attention. “We are gonna miss you. You're the best.” He stopped when his voice cracked, and now I was sure he felt far worse than me because looking back, he suggested not telling Dean about the Book of the Damned not being destroyed, which I didn't agree with at first. But seeing Dean, my Dean, slowly fade away right in front of my eyes changed my opinion. Maybe it was selfish, me and Sam both were. But we couldn't let Dean become something he fears, a Monster. We couldn't lose another person, another family member, but we didn't realize who we were putting in danger on this path.

“We love you, Charlie, and I'm so sorry,” I said, blinking through tears.

“Shut up,” Dean said coldly, making Sam and me look at him. “You got her killed. You don't get to apologize.” He continued.

“Dean-“ Sam started, but Dean cut him off.

“You too, you two are the reason she is dead,” he said, not taking his eyes off the flames.

“We were trying to help you,” I said, still looking at him.

“I didn't need help,” he said bitterly. "I told you to leave it alone.”

“What were we supposed to do, just watch you die?” Sam asked, not letting me be the only one receiving the cold tone from his older brother.

“The mark isn't gonna kill me.”

“Maybe not, but when it's done with you, you won't be you anymore,” I stated. “Dean, you're all we got. So of course we were gonna fight for you because that's what we do,” I said softly.

“Yeah, she's right, we had a shot-“ Sam was cut off again by Dean.

“Yeah, you had a shot. Charlie is dead.” He finally turned his head to look at me and his brother, who was standing next to me. His dark emerald eyes bore into mine, and I couldn't recognize them. Never have I ever seen him look at me with those eyes. Because no matter how much crap we went through, he always made sure I was fine, and his eyes held nothing but sweetness and, on most occasions, worry. “Nice shot.”

“Are you even listening to me? You think I'm ever gonna forgive myself for that?!” I snapped, not being able to keep my voice down anymore. He is grieving, but so am I. If I could, I would trade places with her.

“You know what I think,” he started, still with the same voice tone. “I think it should be you up there and not her.”

I felt my heart break for the hundredth time today. I parted my lips, not taking my teary eyes off him, which clearly showed how hurt I was. Sam let out a small gasp and widened his eyes after he heard Dean's words, clearly not expecting his brother to go that far.

I knew he blamed me, probably even more than Sam. But knowing that he wanted me dead hurt more than any physical torture I've experienced.

Sam called his name, still shocked after what he heard, but his brother just walked away, breaking my heart more and more.

—————

It has been a week since I lost Charlie, since I lost my Dean. He has been searching for the Stynes ever since but has been having a bit of trouble finding their location. So meanwhile, he went on a few solo hunts. He hasn't said a word to me and to Sam, just a few like ‘buy some beers’ ‘did you find anything about the Stynes’.

He found another hunt for today and was packing his bag in his own room. We both haven't stepped in our shared room ever since the accident, which meant we weren't even sleeping on the same bed. I'm done with being ignored, so I knocked on his door and opened it without waiting for any response. He didn't even turn around, probably knowing it was me.

“Dean,” I called his name, not even knowing what I wanna talk about, but getting him to look at me was the first step. “Dean,” I called, this time louder, and when he still didn't turn around, I walked towards him and grabbed his arm. “Alright, I'm done. When will you finally stop ignoring me?!”

He looked at my hand, which was grabbing his arm, and slowly turned around, finally looking at my face. “I'm not ignoring you, I just don't want to talk to you or be near you,” he said bitterly, pulling his arm away and reaching for his door.

“Dean, you know you're not the only one who lost someone, okay? And believe me, I know it's my fault she's gone, and I'll never forgive myself for that. But, god, you're practically killing me. I miss you,” I said desperately, waiting for something in his eyes to change, waiting for him to embrace me in his strong arms, but... Nothing. His eyes didn't even hold hatred anymore, just emptiness.

“I don't know what you expect me to say, ‘I'm sorry you were so stupid’ ‘I'm sorry you got another person killed off’ ‘I'm sorry you're so fucking useless’ Huh?! Is that what you want me to say? You want me to feel sorry for you?!” he yelled, showing the anger and darkness in his eyes while he harshly slammed me to the wall, making me whimper slightly. His words cut deep into my skin, but I tried my best to ignore them, knowing this Dean wasn't really my Dean.

“I want you to understand, I want you to know that I'm sorry. I want you to tell me that we're gonna go through this like we always do,” I said softly, looking deeply into his eyes, trying to crack him.

He let out a dark chuckle and grasped my shoulders, lowering his head to be on the same height level with me. “You want me to tell you that we're gonna go through this? Well, baby, in that way, I'd be a big liar.”

“Dean, me and Sam, we are so close to saving you. Please, just don't let the mark control you,” I begged, feeling small under his touch.

“I don't want nor need you two saving me, and believe me, at this very moment, I'm trying to not let the mark control me, so don't provoke me,” he whispered against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

"I thought you trusted me.”

“Well, that trust was destroyed when you got someone who was like a sister to me killed. Have you ever noticed how many innocent people died because you were being too stupid?” he said harshly.

"We all have made mistakes, Dean," I said, as I thought about the hunts where innocent people died, and I couldn't save them. I didn't want Dean to know how much his words were affecting me, but, god, I felt like a crumpled paper.

“Seems like that's the only thing you ever do,” he smirked, letting his eyes fall on the floor again before looking up at my eyes again. “Tell me, how does it feel knowing you don't mean anything to anybody and you're just a burden in our lives? How does it feel knowing nobody loves you?”

That's it. That was the punch line to make me break into tears.

“Y-you love me, you said that before.”

“You know I lie to get laid,” he said, smirking, proud of his response.

My heart was racing more and more, and I felt nauseous.

“Dean, please-“

“You're nothing, do you hear me? Nothing!” he grabbed my cheeks harshly. “Your existence doesn't matter. You.don't.matter.” he said, spitting the words out before letting me go. He took his bag and walked out of the room, not even glancing at me. I slid down the wall as I started sobbing silently.

Then I heard a buzz from my phone.

New message from Sammy:

“Y/N, Dean just said he found a hunt, probably three to four werewolves, and he told me to go with him. I was really surprised but didn't question him. I think he's getting better. I'll also talk to him on the road. Next time, he'll definitely ask you too, just like old times. Don't stay up and don't worry; we got this :) love you.”

He asked Sam to go, but not me. If he hadn't told me that he hated me a few minutes ago, I'd think he was worried. But if it was really 3 or 4 werewolves, there's nothing to be worried about. He just wants to stay away from me. He told me I was a burden to them; he'll probably throw me out of the bunker soon.

Dark thoughts ran through my mind, and suddenly a rush of anxiety ran through me. What if there were more than a few werewolves? What if they get hurt? What if Dean hates me even more?

I checked Sam's message again and saw that he sent me the address of where the werewolves' location is and where the hunt would probably take place. I quickly rushed to my room, grabbed my car keys, and went to drive to the location.

—————

I was hiding behind some of the trees in the forest, watching as each of the boys fought one werewolf, two already dead ones on the floor.

Everything seemed good so far; I mean, their guns were on the floor, but they were fighting each werewolf single handed and there was no need for me to make my presence known. The boys were winning as always. And that's when I realized they don't really need me in their life. I knew the words that came out of Dean's mouth tonight weren't really Dean's, my Dean. But he was somehow right; before I became the hunter I am today, I made many mistakes. Some were small, and some led to people getting hurt or even killed. I also put their lives in danger multiple times because I was being reckless. Finding the demons that killed my parents blinded my vision. I was ready to get back to the bunker when I saw both of the werewolves giving up until I noticed something.

A werewolf close to Sam's back, and it seemed like none of the brothers noticed him. I searched for my gun but remembered I forgot it in the backseat of my car. I cursed under my breath and did the only thing possible right now to save Sam. I couldn't let Dean lose another person, especially his brother, who I knew meant the world to him. I couldn't put him through something like that again when there's a chance to save the younger Winchester.

So I ran towards Sam, trying my best to not slip because of the woods on the floor. The Werewolf was close, and nobody noticed him. I'm not the only stupid one after all. The boys turned their heads to me for a slight second, surprised at my presence, but didn't stop fighting the other werewolves.

Until I pushed Sam away from the werewolf he was fighting onto the floor. He seemed confused at first, until he saw it. I assumed Dean did too but couldn't be too sure since he was behind me. I let out an agonizing scream when the werewolf grazed his claws into my stomach and the other one, which Sam was fighting before, grazed his claws into my back before my lifeless body fell on the floor. Dean didn't hesitate more seconds before getting his gun from the floor and shooting all the werewolves.

I was bleeding like a waterfall from my body and my mouth. But the good thing is-

I didn't feel any pain, or anything in that matter…

Dean Winchester’s Pov:

No no no.

This can't be happening.

It's all a nightmare, just another stupid nightmare.

I heard Sam's crying voice telling the love of my life, his best friend, to wake up, holding her torn apart body in his arms, asking her why she pushed him away. But there was no answer.

It's a nightmare happening in real life.

Her beautiful y/e/c are open but so empty, unrecognizable.

I stood over her body, not being able to move from my spot.

There is so much blood everywhere.

Her blood.

This is hell.

No, I’ve been to hell and it's worse than hell.

I started tearing up more and more, reality hitting me more every second.

I let out an angry scream and fell on my knees when I remembered my last words to her.

“You're nothing, do you hear me? Nothing! Your existence doesn't matter. You.don't.matter.”

She wasn't nothing, she was my everything.

She mattered, she was the reason I kept going, now she's gone and it's all my fault.

All my fault.

All of the words I said came back to me, making my chest hurt.

As I knelt beside her lifeless body, surrounded by the aftermath of our shattered world, I whisper into the silent abyss, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry."

And deep down I felt the Mark laughing…

[leaawrites]

Silence and Peace

Percy Jackson x fem!reader

Summary: Y/n doesn't like Percy very much, until one quiet night changes everything.

Warnings: use of Y/n, female reader, kinda suggestive, no specific cabin,

Wordcount: 1.8k

I'm back! If you have any requests or whatever, send them in! Though I might need a while to finish stuff right now :(

Btw, thinking of making a part 2 of this? What do you think?

Masterlist

In the quiet hours of Camp Half Blood, when all campers were asleep and nobody could disturb her peace, Y/n sat on the beach. Watching the waves crash against the shore longingly like they were her second home. She watched the ocean come and go. She watched the sand cover her feet and making her sink deeper every time a wave came to her. For her, that was freedom. Long hours of silence. A peace so immaculate nobody could blame her for it. Nobody could make her drown in agony in those moments.

Not even Percy Jackson, Son of Poseidon. The boy who watched her from afar one night and couldn’t look away ever since. He watched her helping other campers with a mesmerizing look in his eyes. One that screamed at everyone walking past, “that is gonna be my girl.”

And if she loved the ocean so much, she would love him the same, right? Wrong. She wasn’t his girl. She never even though about being his girl. He was always just Percy Jackson. The boy who bullied her for being older but still smaller than him. It wasn’t even that much of time between them. Seven months. Seven months was enough for him to make fun of her. Because Percy had no idea how to get a girls attention otherwise.

So that was his plan. Make her hate him if that was the only way for him to talk to her. Stupid boy.

Percy was stupid; you could ask about a dozen people and they would agree. He wasn’t dumb, but stupid. That kind of stupid that would get defeated by Annabeth after being distracted by a girl walking by. That kind of stupid that would stumble over his own feet when she approached him to complete her duties at camp. That kind of stupid that walked over to her one night and sat down next to her with nothing but static silence and the rapid sound of his heartbeat in his head. He was stupid in love.

“Why do you always watch the ocean but never go in?” He asked, scaring the girl and making her look at him wide eyed.

“I-” she began talking before shutting up. Every time she saw him, she prepared herself to get a snarky remark out of his mouth instead of a civil conversation. Though now he talked to her like a normal person. He talked to her like they were friends. “What are you doing here?”

Percy chuckled, averting his eyes from the moon towards her. Eyes sparkling, a kind of tiredness filling his face. “I don’t think you should be the one asking.”

It wasn’t meant mean. It wasn’t meant harmful in any way. However Y/n received enough comments with the same tone to roll her eyes and look away from him in annoyance. In her head, he wasn’t there to keep her company or even - dare I say - comfort. He was only there to annoy and tease her.

“Look, Percy, I was really enjoying my peace before you came, so maybe, would you be so kind, and leave me alone. Just this once. In the morning you can say whatever you wanna say to me, just not tonight,” she said, pulling her knees to her chest and letting her head rest on them, her voice tired and stifled.

Percy looked at the girl like she was going insane. Like somehow she murdered three people and wasn’t afraid for him to be the next. Which, Percy assumed, probably was one thought in her head at the moment. Even when he could never imagine her doing harm to anyone or anything. She was the smart, kind, classy girl in camp. The sweet, blooming field of flowers that everyone adored. Him included. He adored her.

“You know, when I’m seeking peace at night, I also visit the ocean,” he told her, making her look up at him. She was surprised he was still sat next to her, talking in tranquility. It felt foreign, yet normal in a fascinating sense to her. A person can be so different at night. Or was it only because he was at peace now? “Lately it felt like I visited a girl as well.”

It took her a moment, but then she understood what he meant. This wasn’t the first time he came here. It was, however, the first time he made himself known, which surprised her. When you think of Percy Jackson the first adjectives would be sarcastic, extroverted and brave not shy, calm and soft. At least not to her.

“You were watching me?” She asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and, what Percy assumed to be disgust, but actually it was surprise. Y/n was surprised that he seemed interested in her.

“I also like to swim, but that wasn’t possible since you occupied the ocean’s attention for most of the time,” he told her, sighing in acted sadness.

Y/n laughed at his terrible performance, making him smile in return. “You should’ve just walked past. I would’ve been gone in a second if I knew it was you.”

Something in that sentence made Percy’s heart drop. Maybe it was the face that she would’ve been gone. Or maybe it was because she would’ve been gone because it was him. Anyway, something about it made him uncomfortable in his own skin.

“You also could’ve stayed,” he told her, not looking at her, missing the soft smile and tender look dancing in her eyes. “Bet you wouldn’t have minded seeing me without a shirt.” There it was. The comment she waited for, combined with the smirk she knew all too well. Percy was terrible at flirting and she wouldn’t have said what she eventually did if they hadn’t been all alone at this hour.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have.”

Percy’s mouth stood open with surprise, while she shrugged nonchalant and bit her lower lip to suppress a laugh that wanted to escape her so badly. The boy wasn’t used to her actually jump on the joke and tease him back, though he couldn’t deny that he somehow liked it.

After a moment of thinking, he took his chance. Pulling his shirt over his head and making his way towards the water, he turned to her with a smirk. “Well, if that’s the case.”

Y/n wanted to watch the beach, she came specifically to this place to do just that. Watch the waves and the shore and the sky and the moon. Though now her eyes were focusing on something else. She watched Percy dip in the water, breaking the surface, with such gentleness, she wanted him to touch her just the same. She watched him swim for a bit. Watched him look at her and act like he was being attacked to get a laugh out of her. His head sticking out of the water to watch her reaction. When he saw her enjoying his company for once, he smiled back. It was nice knowing to be the reason for one’s happiness. Especially someone you wanted to make happy every day.

As he came back, Y/n tried to keep her focus on the moon, only betraying her quest when Percy sat down next to her again. Shirt still laying next to him.

Percy turned his head, only in time to catch her eyes traveling over his now shivering body. The night air hitting his skin with discomfort.

“You should put your shirt back on or you’re gonna get sick,” she said, looking at him. Her eyes catching a water drop sliding down his face and following it. He ignored her comment but still put his shirt back on.

“When you said that you would’ve gone if I was to just walk past and into the water, was that only because of me or would you have gone if any other person would’ve been in my position?” He asked her, making her look away from him again. She didn’t answer though Percy knew the answer now. “You don’t like me very much.”

“It’s hard to like you, when you constantly try to embarrass me,” she said, finally. Finally she didn’t just walk past him, ignoring his comments like they weren’t meant for her. Though it was obvious to everyone.

“I’m not trying to embarrass you,” Percy admitted. Grover was right, he thought.

After he finally told someone about his crush on the girl, Grover was quick to educate him that that wasn’t the way to get a girlfriend. “I was just trying to get your attention,” he admitted quietly.

Y/n laughed at that, her hand over her mouth. “Why would you want my attention?” She asked him.

“What?” Percy didn’t understand how that seemed so impossible to the girl next to him.

“Percy, be serious. You couldn’t possibly want my attention so bad. I mean, why would you? You have the attention of all the girls, why mine?”

Percy had never been so mad at himself and at her too. He wanted to tell her that he was just joking. He wanted to tell her that he had no idea why he wanted her. But the truth was he knew. He laid awake enough nights asking himself the same question. Then again, he was mad at her for thinking that. He was mad again at her that she couldn’t see all what he saw in her in herself.

“I like you, okay? I really do. I like the way you talk kindly to everyone and I like your smile and your cleverness. I like that you’re always there for everyone and that you listen to me even though I’ve been horrible to you,” he told her it all. Everything that he thought about he told her. “I like your bubbly personality and how you can’t seem to stand normal after staying up for a moment. I like how messy you are and yet put together. I like your face and your eyes and you. I like you for how you are.”

“Well, Jackson, your strategy isn’t really good. I mean, teasing a girl to get her attention usually just works in books,” she told him.

Percy couldn’t believe it. He just poured her a cup of his heart and she decides to dump it into the ocean.

“But this is nice,” she eventually added. “I like this side of you. The quite and vulnerable one. The one who’s flirty and sarcastic in a lovable way. The one who fakes his death to make me laugh.”

“What does that mean now?” Maybe she didn’t dump it all in the ocean. Only a part of it. The part she didn’t like.

“It means that if you show me more of that side, I could eventually start liking you too. Would that be alright?” She asked hoping for a yes and a agreement from him.

She got more though. She got a relieved ‘yes’, a promise and a smiling and blushing boy.

[darkmuffinstudios]

headcanons 2 electric boogaloo part 103 because i'm still not normal

(The first post cut me off in character limit, so here's the continuation :3)

(These can be general headcanons, found family, queer platonic, or poly if you want to interpret them in any way ^^)

There's couch that can fit then entire gang on it that everyone likes to sit at. Dust dislikes anyone taking his spot, Killer constantly keeps changing spots, Cross always picks his spot last, Horror sits on the floor, and Nightmare sits in a arm chair off to the side.

Killer forces all of the gang to watch movies every so often, typically when things become stale around the castle. The rest all act like they hate it, but Horror still makes popcorn, Dust collects all the blankets, and Cross helps set up the TV.

During the winter, the gang all huddle up in Nightmare's room for a large sleepover. The castle can be big and chilly.

Nightmare used to keep a moderate distance between his subordinates and himself. However, the first time Killer ended up in the infirmary changed that. It was only the two of them, and Nightmare realized the fragility of mortals that day.

Nightmare is a worrier for several reasons.

Nightmare mixes and matches his team in groups of 2, rarely sending any one of his men on solo missions (unless absolutely necessary). Safety in numbers.

Horror's love language is giving gifts and acts of service. He feels conflicted receiving it back, preferring touch instead.

Same with the last point, Horror is a cuddle bug- to Killer's delight.

Dust can't sleep in one, continuous stretch. This results with him taking 2-3 hour power naps at varying times throughout the day.

Horror snores in his sleep. Not loudly, but kind of like a soft rumble with each breath.

Dust likes Horror's snoring. It's therapeutic.

Killer sleeps like a corpse. Still and silent- which is strange when juxtaposed by his usual, lively demeanor.

Cross is an early riser and late sleeper. His circadian rhythm is exact, and runs like clockwork.

We're not going to talk about Killer's sleep schedule. He knows its bad. No one can fix it.

When Cross first joined, he felt extremely guilty for his chocolate cravings. After a while and some encouragement from the others, he finds himself indulging himself (at least in this one regard).

Cross loves sweets, not just chocolate. Chocolate just happens to be one of his favorite things/flavors though.

Cross keeps a mini snack stash in his pocket at all times. On missions, out and about, in his room, training, etc. You can look over at him and see him pop a chocolate kiss in his mouth. His one guilty pleasure.

Nightmare and Dust enjoy their fair share of alcoholic drinks. Nightmare has quite the collection- ranging from various years of quality, make, and base. Of course, they are all expensive.

Horror and Cross are indifferent to alcohol. They may indulge in it when there is a special occasion, but otherwise they don't go out of their way.

Killer is the only one that does not enjoy alcohol. If you see him drinking, leave him be. Bro is probably going through it.

Dust sometimes wears glasses to read. Depends on if he cares to put them on or not.

Out of the group, Cross is the designated driver. Nightmare not only doesn't know how to, but also doesn't have full peripheral vision. Horror and Dust would get stressed out/overstimulated on the road.

Killer is the backup driver, but there is a 80% chance of the car crashing at the end. Despite this, he's one hell of a getaway driver.

Horror likes to spend time out in the garden.

Killer is the only one which has explored every room/inch in the castle. He sometimes uses secret passages to scare the others, or cut his walking time in half.

Cross has a nervous habit of fidgeting with his heart locket.

Dust has claustrophobia. Small spaces, large crowds, feeling trapped? He'll come out swinging.

Everyone knows this and always is careful to make sure Dust has an easy out whenever they nap together.

Nightmare is always the one to attend to any of their wounds when they get hurt on missions. He fusses and lectures and rants the whole time he's bandaging them up, mending broken bones, treating illnesses. Everyone knows its because he cares.

Dust get sick the easiest. Because his own magic is trying to boil him alive from the inside out sometimes.

Killer is the least likely to get sick.

Nightmare can't get sick.

Okay, well, Nightmare can, but it would have to be like. the plague to end all plagues.

Nightmare doesn't let any of the boys buy apples.

The only times Horror wears his hood over his head is if its raining/snowing. His head gets itchy if he wears it up for too long.

Killer has a knife on him at all times. You can pat this man down, take off a couple of knives, and he can still shank you afterwards.

All of them, to some extent, have trust issues. They learn to trust each other over time, though.

Nightmare hangs up pictures of his boys up in his office. He even frames them.

Nightmare has a secret picture tucked in a drawer in his desk. It's a drawing that Dream had made for him (a crude drawing of the both of them in a field of flowers), one he had safely folded and tucked into his favorite book as a child.

After the whole apple fiasco, the book barely survived (the picture along with it) and Nightmare rereads it whenever he's feeling sentimental.

Killer is extremely nosy. If he can't get what he wants by asking/prodding, he'll snoop. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back and all.

I don't remember if I mentioned this in the other post, but Nightmare's bed is HUGE. Like King Deluxe plus plus. It also has those fancy canopy, curtain things that can close around the bed.

Killer's bed doesn't have a bedframe, just a mattress.

Dust's bed is circular and decently big. It also has that drape canopy that can cover it, as well as a shit ton of pillows.

Horror gets cold easily.

Nightmare makes sure Horror gets enough blankets during particular cold nights. Maybe a heater too.

Killer has a bad habit of sleeping in other people's rooms. He just barges in and makes himself at home. Over time, the others have let him get away with it.

Lots of mirrors in the castle were taken down after Dust shattered the first few.

That doesn't stop Killer from having a full body one in his room though.

Cross has a favorite training dummy.

Horror names his weapons and kitchen tools. He tends to keep that to himself.

Killer, weirdly enough, knows how to repair clothes. Hole in your jacket? He can stitch it back fairly neatly.

Dust has ripped quite a few sets of clothes in his days. He's gotten used to shrugging them off and dumping them on Killer.

Killer always returns Dust's stuff with a little chocolate inside the pocket/with it (probably stolen from Cross's stash).

When Horror gets anxious, he starts to pick at the crack in his head. To stop this habit, he just sits on his hands.

Nightmare thinks its a little amusing that Horror sits on his hands. Hey, if it works for Horror, then that's all the king needs.

Whenever Nightmare needs to run errands, he always brings Cross with him and lets Killer hold down the fort in his absence.

Cross works hard with Nightmare every year to ensure that their realm can't be found by anyone else. Encrypting code, manipulating magic, etc. While this is an annual thing that they do, Cross checks up on the state of it every month diligently.

Nightmare and Killer like the ocean. They visit it sometimes.

Horror makes sure to create meals that are balanced, healthy, and to preference. Also likes to keep the fridge stocked up.

Cross and Dust sometimes play chess with each other.

The whole gang (minus Nightmare) love playing cards.

Uno cards are banned from the castle after Nightmare repaired the three large holes in his castle wall.

Horror puts all of his food scraps in a compost bin and recycles it into his garden.

Aaaaand that's the limit again.

Very silly to think about, but I might make a separate one concerning ships/bsp because my mind started to wander LMAOOOOO

Hope you enjoy these!

[sayruq]

I am Hamad, 27 years old, a Palestinian from Gaza. I currently reside in Gaza.Right now I have 5 members of my family, including me. My father was martyred in the war(24.01.2024). I want to go out with my wife, daughter, mother and sister.I am starting a fundraiser to save the lives of my immediate family members, I am their only hope to get out of Gaza to Egypt. Please help me save my family's lives. I am unable to work due to war, there is no work here, and whenever I have a chance to sleep, I wake up right away to see if my family is still alive, it is hard to live here due to the current situation where there is no electricity, connection, fuel, water or food, which makes our health condition worse, I am worried that I will lose my family any moment. Due to the war that's been going on in Gaza Strip for 202 days, which has targeted civilians, they're struggling right now, and genocides are happening in Gaza every day. At the beginning of the war, me and my family evacuated from the north to the south where they looked for a safe place, and we're homeless now. Currently, there is no safe place for us to live or to go, as of now we are sharing the tiny space with a large number of people. On top of that, after a hard 110 days during this war, I'm worried about my daughter not getting food or sleep because they don't have the basic necessities of life. Hearing bombs and explosions scare us, so we flee from place to place looking for safety. We can't find any medication and we keep getting sick and we don't have access to health care. Many of my family members have been killed, and many other members are missing under rubble, we don't know if they are alive or dead. Please help me collect the application fees and travel costs for five people.To facilitate me and my family's evacuation from Gaza and to Germany I'm setting up a GoFundMe campaign to raise $27,000. Here is the breakdown of the funds: • It is estimated that $3000 will be sufficient to cover the basic needs of my family including their accommodation, food, and other essentials. Has to be allocated to cover the expenses associated with obtaining permits to leave Gaza, as well as crossing fees at Rafah, at the Egypt-Gaza border. This amount breaks down to $6000 per person (4 people).3000$ for children under 18 years (1people) Any donation, no matter how small, will make a significant difference to the safety of me and my family. We'll use the money raised in a transparent and efficient way to make sure every dollar goes to keeping them safe. Thanks for your support, and I'm grateful for any help you can give during this difficult time. Help me reach my goal and provide safety for me and my family by sharing this campaign with your friends, family, and colleagues I would like to express my sincere gratitude for your kindness and support, as well as your willingness to stand with us in support, as together we can make a real difference and provide safety and security for my family.

Guys please help this family. They've only received a single donation so far

[raventreehall]

a storm of swords dash simulator

🍋ladyjonquil Follow

i don't want to reveal too much but i had a really great day today hawking and riding and received some really exciting news (and maybe a potential marriage offer!) wow wow wow!!! haven't felt like this in so long 🥰

🤡florianthefool Follow

i'm so happy for you my jonquil

🐦littlefinger Follow

thanks for sharing my lady

🏹kissedbyfire Follow

PISSED OFF AT MY BF RN 🤬🤬🤬 NEVER TRUST A SOUTHERNER AND ESPECIALLY NEVER TRUST A CROW!!!!!!!

👸🏼daenerys-targaryen-tracker Follow

🐎raeqqo Follow

by the law of the dothraki she must return to vaes dothrak to take her place alongside the crones of the dosh khaleen. it is known.

🐉3heads Follow

shut up and go sack a defenseless city or something

🍁weirwoodzz Follow

hey do you guys remember when theon greyjoy took winterfell last year and killed the stark boys? has anyone heard anything else about that? feel like it kind of just disappeared from the news cycle, what happened to greyjoy?

🪓cerwynnation Follow

lord bolton's bastard killed him

🍁weirwoodzz Follow

oh really? wow. kind of extreme but deserved i guess

💗ramsays-sharpest-blade Follow

Ramsay isn't a bastard, King Joffrey legitimized him two months ago and Lord Roose is going to make him castellan of the Dreadfort soon. He loves his son and trusts his abilities. Plus, Ramsay is being awarded for his efforts in saving Winterfell and putting a stop to the ironborn raids in the North by being betrothed to Arya Stark—would a bastard be granted that honor? I don't think so.

Also, Theon isn't dead, Ramsay is (rightfully) flaying him for his crimes in the dungeons beneath the Dreadfort. Gods, I'd love to see Ramsay thrust the knife under his skin!!!!! 😜

#ramsay bolton #house bolton #our blades are sharp #theon greyjoy

🐐the-goat Follow

i'm boutta come into thome real money real thoon 😈 💎💎💎💎💯

🏰freygirl73 Follow

ughhhh my sister is getting married tmrw and my brothers keep going on about getting revenge on king robb while he's here for the feast... like i just wanted some food :/// iswtg that's the only good thing about my siblings weddings and now they're saying there won't even be any and i'm gonna have to go into hiding before the bedding ceremony or something. why can't my family just be NORMAL

🐟greenfork Follow

TW: Red Wedding, death, violence

A masterpost on what happened at the Twins and what it means for the Northern independence cause, the War of the Five Kings, and the realm in general.

Also a bunch of links on how you can help people affected in the Riverlands.

Keep Reading

🍵bowlobrown Follow

HELL YEAH BROTHER 🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀

🔥heatofdorne Follow

i wanna ***** ********* on ellaria sand's **** and *** ****** then call in oberyn and ***** **** them both until **** *****

🤎pate7534 Follow

🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀

🌊onthesunsetsea Follow

why are there so many crabs on my dash rn

🐺direwolfing Follow

TYWIN LANNISTER IS DEAD 🦀🦀🦀🦀

💙cassssanna Follow

actually i think it's still for king joffrey

🦁lann1sporter Follow

lol i thought it was for robb stark

🥂arborgold Follow

maybe it's for the mountain?

⬛️ freezingmyarseoffonthewall Follow

DOLOROUS EDD LORD COMMANDER 300 AC

⬛️ freezingmyarseoffonthewall Follow

DOLOROUS EDD WILL LEAD US TO VICTORY AGAINST THE OTHERS

🕊️ just-a-humble-sparrow Follow

mother have mercy i was walking by the great sept of baelor (i wanted to pay my respects to our blessed king joffrey) but i was blocked by a knight of the kingsguard—i believe it was one of the kettleblacks, unfortunately i always forget which one has been elevated to the kingsguard—because the queen was keeping vigil over her son, so i prayed outside instead. yet only a few minutes passed when i swear i saw the kingslayer arrive (he seemed to be missing a hand!) and enter. then, and this is the most disturbing part, i swear to the father that i heard noises of fornication coming from inside! i know for a fact that the only other person inside was the queen mother. could the rumors be true? i feel dirty even writing this. i wonder if i should tell my septon.

❤️‍🔥stannis-sweep Follow

stannis has literally been telling y'all and you didn't listen 🙄

🏳️ bannerless Follow

is it just me or is lady stoneheart kinda 👀

[xxdark-obsessionxx]

I’m a big sucker for Psych Au fics. Reader is a cis female doctor who treats Tord with kindness. He becomes obsessed with her. Refuses to talk to any other doctor.

Tord is always on his best behavior for her which leads her to let her guard down.

BIG MISTAKE

I was supposed to be asleep five hours ago but I couldn’t until I finished this. Just know that in my heart, this takes place in Arkham. Also I'm super rusty so I apologize if anything feels off/wonky.

CW: Noncon

Dark themes ahead, please read at your own discretion and keep yourself safe. This is a work of fiction and I do not condone or support scenarios like this in real life

_____________________________________________

“You dropped this.” 

The man stares at you wide eyed as you hand him his lighter. He stands, rigid. You give him a gentle smile and press it into his palm, your other hand curling around the back of his hand. 

“I know there’s no fluid in it, so you don’t have to worry about me taking it,” you say to him. You pat his hand and step away.

The man turns fully towards you and you’re able to read the name sewed onto his shirt. 

“I-” the man- Tord- swallows hard. He quickly pockets the lighter. “Thank you.” 

You give him another smile and walk past him. He had seemed to be going the same way as you but he never caught up. Nor did you hear footsteps behind you. Once you reach the director’s office, he leaves your thoughts. You were absolutely determined to make a good first impression on your first day of the job. 

The man you met earlier had turned out to be your first patient. And oh boy, what a patient he was. Like you had promised yourself you weren’t going to judge any of these people but god damn. His file was thick. At least twenty papers were inside the manilla folder you had received from the head director’s office. Maybe even more. 

You’d never know if you kept standing outside the director’s office gawking at it. You take a deep breath. Going through it sitting down was probably a good idea. As you make your way to the breakroom, your grip on the folder is tight, trying your best to make sure you don’t drop it and reveal your patient's file. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to get to the breakroom. A few people were there but they paid you no mind. They sit, hunched over lunch or their own files. You sit and start to read. 

Løvik Tord

3 7 2 5 9

DOB: 1995

Age: 28

Hair: Dark brown with lighter brown roots

Eye: Silver

You end up skimming through this until you get to the bottom of the page. It wasn’t… pretty. 

CASE INFORMATION: 

Tord is a violent man. He is aggressive, manipulative, and has a short temper. Many doctors have tried working with him to no avail. He does not respond kindly to Dr.Casey (see page 5), Dr.Bonnie (see page 8), Dr.Roxy (see page 12), or Dr.Harley (see page 15). 

He is extremely aggressive towards Dr. Bruce (see page 20). 

You stop reading there, your chest feeling tight. You flip to page twenty. It’s not the last page like you had hoped. There were still…. Quite a bit in the file. 

Dr.Bruce has tried everything he can to help Tord. He has tried finding common ground with the patient. Has tried being lax and strict with Tord’s schedule. Has tried working with Tord and letting him sit outside. Tord had found every loophole and burned every bridge until Dr.Bruce stopped lenient treatments. Tord stabbed Dr.Bruce fifteen times before guards made their way into the room. 

It is unknown how and where he had gotten his hands on a sharp long blade. Tord was seen licking the blood of-

“Don’t worry if you can’t fix him. At this point, Doctor Markman hands his case off to fresh blood to showcase this place. No one expects you to be able to tame him.” 

You startle at the voice, goosebumps raised on your arms. “I’m sorry?” you ask with a polite smile. Anger clouded your fear. What the hell was this person talking about?

The doctor, Alice, her name tag reads, smiles at you. 

“Nearly everyone has tried working with him at this point,” she continues. “No one expects him to ever get better. He's here for murder, after all.” 

You give her a tight smile in return. “I’ll just have to see for myself.” 

Before she can keep going, you straighten up the papers and close the folder. 

“I appreciate the advice, but I must be going now,” you lie through your teeth. What bullshit! What kind of doctors run this place? 

You actually hadn’t needed to be anywhere for another thirty minutes but if this conversation continued you wouldn’t be able to hold your tongue. Everyone can be saved. With compassion and kindness and help, no one was beyond redemption. Or too far gone for help. 

You storm out of the breakroom and wander. 

“I was hoping I’d see you again.” 

Tord grins at you as he’s escorted in. His hands are cuffed and before he can sit down, the guard pats him down. 

It makes your stomach churn but you keep your face kind. 

“It’s nice to see you too,” you greet. You watch cautiously as he sits down in the plush chair. The guard leaves the room. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It’s silent enough to hear the clock as the two of you study each other. He seems to drink you in, eyes wandering up and down, seeming to take in everything. You’d do the same if you weren’t a professional. 

“You used to dye your hair?” 

Tord raises an eyebrow. He tilts his head a little, eyes focused solely on you. It unnerves you almost as much as his file had. No patient of yours had ever stared at you so intensely in the past….

After a moment, he answers. “Yes. I fancied black quite a bit.” He gestures towards his roots. “It’s been a while since Bruce got me more dye. No one else will.” 

“I could look into it,” you clasp your hands, jumping into this opportunity. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to Doctor Marksman.” 

“And what do you want from me in return?”

“I’m sorry?” 

His gaze hardens. “What. do. You. want.” He grinds out, his body rigid in the chair. His hands were clenched.

Without thinking, puzzlement falls across your face. What did he mean? What did you want? For him to get better, obviously. 

“I want you to be at ease with your mental health,” you answer, still looking puzzled. “I don’t want anything else from this job but that. I’m not dangling hair dye in front of you in exchange. I want you to feel comfortable in your skin and at home here, Mr.Løvik.” 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 

“Is that really what you want?” Tord asks, an emotion you can’t quite place in his voice. “To help me get better?” 

Whatever it may be, you smile at him. 

“Of course. I want nothing but to see you succeed and be happy here.” 

Things were easier after that first session. You always started off kindly, asking Tord how his day was going. If his favorite show or movie had aired on the television today.If his favorite food had been served that morning or afternoon. If he slept fine through the dreadful storm. 

(“I know I wasn’t,” you had laughed. “I tossed and turned, jumping at each sound all night.”

“I’m sure your boyfriend was quite displeased.”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “Well, no. I have a cat but no boyfriend. I was too busy getting my decree to ever really mingle like that. Though, my poor little man was also distraught at all the thunder last night. He yowled at my door until I let him into my room and he curled up on my bed. I’ll bring pictures next time.”) 

Too well for you and only you. Tord refused to talk to anyone but you. He would sit in silence or insult other doctors during his sessions. In one instance, he broke a new doctor’s nose. The poor guy had quit on the spot, cussing Tord and the whole place out as he was escorted to the medical section. 

You were tense the next few sessions but that violent man was nowhere to be found. He kept his cuffed hands right in front where you can see them at all times. He never lunged from you. In fact, barely ever moved in his chair. 

Tord was easygoing. Polite, charming, even. He took any medications he needed obediently and put up no fuss when you’d have him describe in later sessions how he was feeling and if he was feeling any negative side effects. 

He asked about your cat. About how your favorite show was going. If the movie you were looking forward to has come out yet. If your favorite restaurant down the street from your apartment was still closed for renovations. 

Eventually, enough time had passed that you relaxed. You stopped keeping your eyes trained on his hands. You stopped worrying yourself sick about his body language. You focused on his treatments and his mental health. 

If he was going to hurt me he would have done so by now, you thought to yourself after your latest session with Tord. He was doing so much better than he had been doing six months ago. It seemed as if you were really making a difference, helping him improve. 

It had been three months since he last fought another patient. Two months since he assaulted another doctor. And five months since he refused treatment of any kind. 

You step outside the building and take a deep breath. A dopey smile sticks to your face as you walk to your car. Becoming a doctor was the best choice you’ve ever made. Nothing was more rewarding than helping people. Not even this cloudy weather could bring you down. 

In fact, nothing tried to drag your mood down. There was no traffic on the way home. Some asshole hadn’t parked in your assigned parking spot again in the parking lot of your apartment. And your sweet cat hadn’t knocked his little box over again. 

You happily reheat your leftovers and watch tv for a while before you get ready for bed. Unfortunately, your mood does come crashing down. 

In the middle of the night, thunder wakes you. You jolt up, scrambling for your phone. Your hands come up empty. Shit, you think. I left it charging in the kitchen. Ugh. Oh well, you don’t need to look at your phone to see it is late and storming. 

Another loud sound booms through your apartment. Only this time, it sounds like a crash. 

“It’s just thunder,” you tell yourself. “Nothing to be afraid of.” You lay back down. Your eyes shut and you’re just about drifting to sleep when your door creeks open. 

You bolt up, knowing damn well that your cat can’t open doors and you freeze. 

Your heart races as your mind tries to process just who was in front of you. 

“Tord?” you whimper, hands shaking. But that can’t be. That was impossible. He was supposed to be sleeping soundly in his room with the soundproof headphones you got him. He didn’t like storms. The thunder reminded him too much of gunshots and made him restless. 

Useless information floods your brain. 

“I’m home, sweetheart,” he rasps. His grin is soft in the moonlight. He reaches over to flick on your bedroom light. 

He’s gentle he’s kind he’s sweet he’s-

He’s covered in blood.

Tord steps forward and you’re frozen in bed. His eyes are wild as they drink you in. There’s blood on his hands. In his hair. Splatters on his face. 

“Oh honey how I’ve dreamed of this,” he croons at the foot of your bed. “Your apartment is just as cute as you described.” 

He grabs the edge of your blanket and pulls it off. His smile grows sappy. “You did go for the red pants like I suggested.” He giggles, staring between your legs. “I wonder if there’s a match beneath them.”

That snaps you out of your shocked stupor. You scramble off your bed, slamming your head hard against your nightstand as you try to avoid Tord’s lunging grasp. 

You lay fetal on the floor, tears in your eyes as you clutch your head. “Fuck,” you hiss.

Tord clicks his tongue. He slowly climbs off your bed, crouching next to you. “My poor clumsy sweetheart.” 

You feel his hands in your hair. 

“What do you want?” you gasp. Fear and pain mix as you start to cry into your carpet. 

His hands stroke your hair. 

“You.” 

With that, you’re powerless to stop him as he scoops you up into his arms. You thrash as he dumps you back onto your bed, pinning you down. 

“I know you're scared but it’s ok. I’ll be gentle, my love. So gentle.”

Your mind can’t wrap your head around what’s happening. Tord isn’t supposed to be tying your wrists to your headboard. He isn’t supposed to be kissing your neck and grinding his hard arousal between your legs. He isn’t supposed to be in your home. 

“Such a good girl, staying still for me,” Tord says softly as he pulls back. He slides your pants down. Disappoint clouds his eyes when he sees your panties aren’t red but it’s deepened when he pulls those down and you’re barely wet.

“It’s ok sweets. I’ll figure out what gets you going. There’s nothing to be ashamed of in needing help.” 

Anger wells in your chest as Tord fishes for something in one of his pockets. How dare he. How dare he parrot your own advice back at you. As if this was a simple therapy session. As if you were the patient and he was the doctor wanting to help. 

“Get off me!” you snarl. “You know this isn’t right Tord. Y-you’re sick! You need help!” 

Tord stops what he’s doing to stare dead eyed at you. He plucks a clean rag off your nightstand and stuffs it into your mouth. 

“Enough of that,” he scolds. “You need this as much as I do. In fact, doctors orders.” 

He grins at his own twisted joke. He fishes through his pockets again and pulls out a small bottle of lube. “Yes, just what my love needs. A good thorough fuck.” 

You desperately try to spit the rag out but your mouth is too dry. You twist and tug your wrists but to no avail. This was happening. Your gentle, sweet patient was going to take your virginity. 

Tord carefully squirts lube onto his fingers, rubbing them together. He parts your folds, humming appreciatively as he rubs your clit. 

“That’s it, my good girl. Get nice and wet for me.” 

You feel sick. Against your will, his crooning and his touches stir up arousal inside you. You close your eyes as he gently fingers you as if he was searching for something. 

A minute later, your eyes fly open as he jabs something horrible. Your pussy grows slick from it, pleasure building in your lower stomach. 

“There it is.”

You shake your head violently. Not there, you try to plead with your eyes. Anywhere but there! 

But Tord merely smiles at you and ruthlessly abuses that spot. Over and over his fingers jab and curl,  rubbing it. You squeeze your eyes tight, small moans making their way out of your throat as pleasure jolts through you.. His thumb strokes your clit and you cum embarrassedly fast. You stare at the ceiling and wish you hadn’t wanted to cum at all. 

“Good girl,” Tord praises. He pulls his fingers out, eying them appreciatively. He sticks them in his mouth and sucks, moaning. “So sweet. But I’m too impatient to try it from the source. You’ll have to forgive me, my love.” 

Panic jolts up your spine as you feel his tip pressing against your entrance. You try to climb up your bed rest but you only achieve getting a little higher up on your pillows. Tord sighs and presses forward. 

“It’ll hurt for a moment but I promise this will feel good,” Tord tries to soothe. He picks up the lube and squeezes more into his palm and strokes himself. 

You hate him. You hate him with all your heart. 

He pushed forward and once again, you squeezed your eyes tight. His hand roughly grabs your throat. 

“Eyes on me,” he snaps. “I want to see how good I make you feel.” 

The fear overturns the pain and you quickly open your eyes. He pushes further in, reaching down to run your clit. 

Tord rocks his hips a little, eyes starstruck as he stares down at you. “You’re getting wetter,” he mumbles to himself. A grin spreads across his face. 

His hips snap forward, setting a firm pace. He stops rubbing your clit to grab under your thighs. He lifts them up and pushes until they’re almost touching your breasts. 

He thrusts harder and- 

You squeal, bucking your hips as he hits that horrible spot. You can’t stop bucking your hips, jolts of pleasure stabbing your stomach and stars in your eyes. 

Tord pressed closer to you, caging you in. He holds your gaze intensely, panting a little. His eyes dart between your face and your bouncing tits. 

Like earlier, you cum fast. This one hits you harder. And Tord doesn’t stop. 

You cum again and he pulls out. “Move and I’ll beat your ass with a belt,” he growls. He pulls out a switchblade and cuts the rope off your headboard. He’s quick to tie your wrists together. 

You find yourself on your stomach, ass up. Tord firmly holds your hips. He enters again, pressing down against you. Caging you against the mattress as he pounds into your pussy hard. By the time you’re cumming again, he finally cums with you. 

You’re crying by this point. Overstimulation has you cringing, your pussy tingling as he pulls out. Once again, you start to panic. Tord had come inside you. You thrash underneath him. 

“Stop that,” he hisses, slapping your ass hard. You cry harder as he does it another three times. And another, until you finally go still. 

You hear Tord sigh harshly. “I need to be patient with you,” he mumbles to himself. He gets off of you and you hear him leave the room. 

He’s back within minutes, holding a wet hand towel. You’re gently turned over onto your back and he softly cleans you up. You can’t look at him. 

“Mrrow.” 

Your heart jolts. Your cat jumps onto the bed, purring as Tord pets him with his clean hand. Traitor. 

“You rest while I pack,” Tord says softly. He leans down to press a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll grab everything you need and love for our new home.” 

He climbs off the bed and leaves the room again. He comes back with duffel bags. Your cat paddles up to you and curls up next to you. He purrs hard as you sob your eyes out.

[charminglyantiquated]

9/25 update on the Nautilus, for anyone curious. Details below (long), but in summary: the damage is more expensive than we'd hoped. We will have to buy Nautilus back as salvage and repair her mostly out of pocket. We still do intend to repair her, but it seems now it will be over a timeline of several years. The fundraiser for her repairs has been raised to reflect the new estimate, and will remain up as long as we're working on her, for anyone who wishes to contribute. I'm so unbelievably, profoundly grateful to all of you who have helped us so far. Thank you so, so much.

Damage: a joint survey was conducted Tuesday between surveyors from our insurance and that of the other vessel. It will be another 3-4 weeks before we have the official paperwork, but the consensus was that the damage approaches twice Nautilus' value. In addition to the mast and all the attached rigging, sails, hardware, etc., the teak deck would have to come up in order to address the damage to the deck and hull. This means that rather than pay for repairs, our insurance company is almost certainly going to write her off as a total loss.

I am waiting for formal documentation before sharing any exact numbers. Once we have them I will be more precise. But the general process as I understand it right now is below, for anyone curious about how everything shakes out.

What a loss means with insurance: my understanding is that repair damages are only covered by insurance up to the point a vessel is totaled. Since the damages almost certainly surpass her value then she would be totaled instead. In this scenario, our insurance would give us the value the Nautilus was insured for, and then pursue the other vessel's insurance for their own reimbursement. Additionally the other insurance might give us the income we lost over the remainder of the season, but whether that will happen and what amount that would be is up in the air, with the three different attorneys we consulted agreeing that we'd be fortunate to get any amount. Anything beyond that is apparently unlikely, any other legal pursuit would possibly lose us more money that we might hope to gain.

On our end: we took out a loan to buy Nautilus in April, and still owe the majority of it. By the terms of the loan, with a total loss we would have to pay back the full loan immediately. Then, because this is essentially our insurance 'buying' Nautilus from us, we would have to buy her back as salvage. The salvage price would be determined by the salvageable parts of her, and the surveyor. Hopefully it would be less than five figures, but it depends heavily on which insurance company actually ends up with her, and how exhaustively they tally up the pieces of her that they could sell. The surveyors could not tell us at the time of the survey who would end up with her or what they would charge. For the next month or two Nautilus is in a kind of purgatory where we do still technically own her, but only until insurance gets through the paperwork, which makes it difficult to begin any work right now.

Financially: when the dust settles, once the loan is paid and we own Nautilus once more as salvage, I think that based on the current estimates we may have some funds remaining. But even in the best case scenario - low salvage price, and we do receive lost income - it wouldn't be enough to finance all the needed repairs. My partner and I will be keeping the fundraiser up for as long as we are working on her, for anyone who wishes to contribute to her repair fund. Any help from anyone who would like to see her sailing again will always be deeply appreciated, but we're both aware it's an absurd number. If we fail to meet it, we're both keenly aware it's not through any lack of generosity - I cannot possibly express how grateful we are for the help we have received already, and what a massive difference it has made over the last month as we deal with the immediate and long-term fallout, covering her haul-out and towing and bills over the months it will likely take to resolve all this.

Fixing Nautilus: my partner and I are still committed to repairing her, despite the cost and the time involved. The thought of letting her be cut up for salvage is too heartbreaking to bear. But at the pace things are progressing and with the resources we have, it's obvious now that it's not feasible to fix her fully over the winter; it will instead be over the course of several years. However, my partner and I hope that by doing as much of the work ourselves as we are qualified for, we can bring down the overall cost of repairs by a fair amount. Additionally, the broken mast was built only a few years ago by a gentleman who still has the plans for it and is willing to guide us through the process of building a replacement. There is a possibility we can connect with a local boat building school's fledgling restoration program. And a great many people have offered their time, advice, expertise, and contacts. The timeline has changed, but we are not giving up on her.

In the meantime: with the survey done, we now have at least a general idea of what the future will look like. Since working nonstop to get Nautilus sailing again by June is not on the table any longer, my partner and I are currently figuring out a long-term plan for ourselves, our little company, and the Nautilus herself. We have discussed a few ideas, which I'll share more about once we settle on anything concrete. Nautilus herself is finally clear of wreckage, with the pieces of her mast on sawhorses beside her, her deck swept clean, solar panel plugged in, and a tarp over the worst of the damage. She's as safe as we can make her for now; there's nothing else we can do except wait for the wheels to turn.

Lastly: thank you all, more than I can say. I have been trying not to miserypost, but I have been having a very hard time dealing with this, as has my partner. It took us ten years to save the money we put into Nautilus, and the few months we were able to spend sailing her together were the happiest and proudest I have been in my life. We have lost the future we'd imagined, and regardless of how this resolves, we are never getting that time back. We are determined not to lose the Nautilus as well, but it has honestly been difficult some days to push through the grief. The one consistent silver lining has been the kindness and sympathy and outrage from everyone who has taken the time to reach out to us. I have been floored, over and over, by how many people we have rooting for us. I am never, ever going to be able to express my full gratitude to all of you. Without exaggeration, you have kept me going.

I will share more once we know more - exact numbers, exact damage, exact plans for repairs and the next steps. Until then, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

[spookyghostjelly]

Sweet Sickness - Phantom x f!reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+, pure smut, pnv sex, ghoul in heat, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, biting, Phantom is baby

Thank you @whatawonderfulexistence--blog for proofreading this, you're the best ❤️

You bid a couple of siblings good night as you finally got to your room's door. You had thought about curling up in front of the fireplace with a book all day, and you smiled softly to yourself as you opened the door. You fully expected to come upon the sight of your cozy and empty bedroom but what your gaze came upon instead had your heart nearly jump out of your throat. A ghoul, Phantom more precisely, was pacing nervously back and forth in front of your bed, wide panicked eyes looking up when he heard you come in.

"C-can you close the door please?" He stutters, fidgeting nervously as he comes to a stop.

Your initial shock finally wears off, and you do as he says, closing the door hurriedly behind you. You step towards him, but stop when you notice the way his body tenses.

"Phantom, what's wrong?" You ask, worry seeping into your tone. You'd never seen the ghoul look so restless.

"I… I don't know" he resumes his pacing. "I don't know what's going on, I'm feeling all weird and hot and feverish…" he looks back at you with pleading eyes. "I'm sorry I got into your room without permission y/n, I didn't know what else to do…"

Your heart squeezes at the sight, he looks so genuinely scared, you just want to help him in any way you can. You take another step towards him but he stops his pacing immediately, staring at you, his eyes visibly narrowing on your every move. You stop again.

"Can I get close to you? I just wanna check your temperature." You ask in a soft tone.

His stare is hesitant for a moment before he finally nods, you can see he’s trying to keep himself from fidgeting. You approach him and reach carefully for his forehead. His dark eyes follow your movement with apprehension and once your hand finally comes to rest on his skin, a high pitched whine leaves his lips. A whine that seemingly surprises him just as much as you, if his suddenly horrified expression is anything to go by.

"I-I'm sorry, I don't know why I did that!" He stammers, his cheeks flushing.

In any other situation, you'd find this incredibly adorable, but the ghoul before you is burning hot to the touch, which is making you a little worried. Ghouls sometimes had a higher body temperature than humans, but Phantom was even hotter than Dew right now, which is unusual. Then, just as you go to withdraw your hand from his skin, his hand is quick to snatch your wrist and bring it to his cheek.

"Can you please keep touching me? I don't know why, it just feels better…"

His wide pleading eyes are staring into yours and you can't help but get lost in the lavender swirls of his irises for a moment, a soft smile pulling at your lips. What brings you back to the moment is a low hum, sounding very nearly like a growl, that comes from Phantom when you mindlessly rubbed your thumb on his cheek. You nearly pull back, afraid you'd hurt him somehow, but his hand still gripping your wrist keeps you from doing so and his whole body tenses.

"It's okay Phantom," you try to sound reassuring despite the little nervous wobble of your voice. "Now, did you tell any of the other ghouls about what's going on?"

He shakes his head and you hum thoughtfully. Truth was, you didn't know much about the ghouls' systems, in their human or demon form, you don't even know if they can actually get sick.

"Are you feeling any kind of pain?"

He thinks for a moment.

"Burning… feels like I'm burning from the inside- it's not painful, I think? But it's…", he pauses as he seemingly searches for the right term, "consuming."

The last word comes as a harsh whisper and suddenly you realize how he had somehow moved closer to you without you even noticing. His body now had you trapped against him and your bed and he was so close, you can feel his body heat wash all over you. You also hear the way his breath is getting heavier with each passing second.

"Phantom? Are you ok?"

Your worry is only increasing when no answer comes. Instead, his head shifts to the side a bit, bringing his lips mere inches from your wrist, and he inhales deeply. His eyes close and a groan escapes his lips while you stare dumbly at him, confused as to what was going on.

"Phan-" you begin but stop abruptly when you feel sharp canines brush your sensitive skin.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I don't know what's going on, but you just smell so good-" he whispers, his breath so feverishly hot on your skin. "Please let me touch you, I feel like I need it so bad…"

His pleading gaze comes back to yours and they are filled with such longing and need you can almost taste it. Despite worry still being present in your mind, you find yourself wanting to indulge him. You'd had a soft spot for the new ghoul ever since you'd first met him a few months ago, just after his summoning, and your feelings only grew with time. He can be a little clumsy at times, and sometimes looked up a little too much at Dew as an example. But, unlike the grumpy fire ghoul, Phantom is sweet, a little shy, and always so eager to help and learn. A little nibble at your wrist pulls your mind back to him, and you realize he is waiting, or rather craving, for an answer.

"Yes", you breathe out.

The word barely makes it past your lips, his hands are cupping your cheeks and his mouth is crashing on yours. He kisses you like a starving man, his sharp fangs brushing against your lips and his tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with yours with a deep moan. You grip at the collar of his uniform shirt while his hands frantically travel down your body to grab your hips, claws digging in slightly as he presses you impossibly further against him. You whimper against his lips as you feel just how hard he already is. Just as you feel yourself getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen, his mouth quickly trails down to your neck where he leaves a myriad of hungry kisses and nips. The broken moan he pulls from you seems to delight him, judging by the purr that rumbles deeply in his chest.

"Fuck puppy, I need to have you, right now"

You squeak as he suddenly tears into your habit and underwear, ripping them all from you, his claws cut through fabric like a knife through butter. Before you can even fully process that you're now bared before him, he's already tearing into his own clothes. In less than seconds, you both stand naked and he's pushing you backwards, until you're laid out on the bed and he eagerly climbs on top of you. As his eyes explore the length of your body, you notice the way his pupils are blown so wide, the purple of his irises can no longer be seen. He's looking down at you like he's literally gonna eat you, and at this point, you think you would actually let him do so. You inhale sharply when he suddenly dives down, his lips sealing around a nipple while a hand goes for the other. Your body arches against him as you cry out his name and he growls lowly. His tail travels softly up and down your legs, a sharp contrast to his ravenous mouth. He then proceeds to leave kisses and bites all the way down your stomach, while his hands flitter from one part of your body to the other, like he's trying to explore everywhere all at once. You're squirming under him and the urgency of his actions has your head spinning. Before you know it, his mouth is now lined with your heat, his breath so hot on your most sensitive parts as he inhales deeply. His eyes look up to yours as his tail curls around one of your ankles and you gasp loudly when his tongue finally laps at you. Your hand flies to his head instinctively, grabbing his horn at the base. He whimpers so loudly, you think you might've hurt him or something, but the second you try to remove your hand he grabs it to keep you from moving. You look down at him and you see the way he's already humping the mattress, desperately looking for any type of relief, all while staring up at you with the hungriest look you've ever seen. He doesn't give you any more time to settle as he then laps at you frantically, like his life actually depends on it. He's going back and forth between plunging his tongue as deep as he can within you, to circling your clit, all while moaning and groaning obscenely. Your grip tightens onto his horn as your head falls back, a mix of his name and swears spilling past your lips. You can't even align proper thoughts anymore, and you know he's far from done with you. His tongue feels sinful in the most delightful of ways and it's sending your mind into complete ecstasy. He then proceeds to plunge two of his fingers within you, pumping them in and out at a vicious pace. He manages to find your sweet spot in record time, and the stimulation of both his tongue and fingers has your orgasm hit you like a freight train. You scream out his name, your grip on now both of his horns tightening as your body shakes. You barely notice the way his eyes roll into the back of his head as he drinks you up eagerly. He continues to lap at you until your body spasms and you whimper from overstimulation. He comes back up to meet your lips with his, kissing you deeply. You moan against him as you taste yourself on his tongue.

"Puppy, need to be inside please, tell me you want me," he begs when he parts from you, the tip of his cock already brushing at your entrance.

"Want you Phantom, please yes," you answer immediately, already desperate to feel him inside you.

He wastes no time as he bottoms out in one go, barely giving you any time to adjust to his size before he starts thrusting into you harshly. You're both panting against each other's lips, both moaning and groaning loudly. He kisses you again while his tail comes up to flick at your nipple and you clench around him, which in turn drives him to fuck you even harder. He's hitting that spot repeatedly again and you're seeing stars, you'd never felt so good. His head falls forward, his lips now brushing against the skin of your neck and you dig your nails into the skin of his back.

"Puppy, I need to bite you, please, please, please!"

He's babbling and pleading loudly but your foggy brain doesn't even manage to fully understand what he said before you suddenly feel his teeth digging in the flesh at the base of your neck. You screech at the sudden spike of pain, pleasure and surprise, a completely overwhelming mix. He releases the skin before hungrily lapping at the blood that now flows from the wound.

"Fuck, that's it, you're mine now puppy, I won't let anyone else touch you… I love you so much!"

He's rutting into you harshly, his hips slapping hard against your skin. You feel tears coming down your cheek, a sob ripping from your throat from the overstimulation and pleasure.

"Phantom, please!"

"Yes puppy I'm right here, I'm gonna fill you up, stuff you full of my kits! You're gonna be such a good mommy…"

He's panting loudly into your ear and you feel yourself clenching around him.

"Cum again for me please, my sweet, I know you can g-give me one more."

As he says so, he angles himself to hit your cervix with every thrust. You're screaming by now but you can't bring yourself to care, not when his cock feels so good. The coil in your stomach is winding tighter and tighter with each of his thrusts, and before you can even process that you're close, you're already screaming his name on repeat as it snaps violently.

"That's it puppy, oh f-fuck, you feel so good, I-I'm gonna-"

He doesn't even manage to finish his sentence as he cums deep in you, stuffing you more full than you've ever been. Praises and swears are tumbling past his lips uncontrollably, nearly incoherent. You feel his cock kick for what feels like minutes and he whimpers and hisses each time your walls clench around him. Finally, his body relaxes and you squeak when he grabs you and flips your positions so you're laying on top of him. You both stay like this for a while, until your quick pants become deeper, calmer breaths. You look up at him only to find his eyes already on you. His pupils are still blown wider than usual, but now you can faintly see a rim of purple around them. You feel his hands against you fidgeting and he's now chewing on his lip worriedly.

"Phantom? What's up?" You ask as you bring a hand to his hair, brushing it back from his face.

He purrs and leans into the touch, eyes closing slightly.

"It's… it's true you know…" you cock your head slightly at his words. "I love you…" he adds hesitantly in a whisper, his eyes darting away from yours.

Your lips part in surprise at his confession. Even after all this, you thought it was probably nothing more than some heat-induced babbling, not an actual confession from him. You feel the way his body tenses at your silence.

"I wasn't planning on telling you like this I swear, I had a whole thing planned in my head, I'm sorry it just came out! I couldn't help it, I think it's because of the weird and stupid sickness, I just-"

You cut off his nervous rant by quickly pressing your lips to his and the muffled gasp that comes from him makes you smile against his lips. He still responds eagerly, quickly turning the kiss into something much more heated. You reluctantly part from him when your lungs scream for oxygen.

"I love you too" you finally breathe out, your heart fluttering in your chest as you do.

He stares at you for a moment with wide humid eyes, his gray skin darkening as he flushes. Then you feel him stir slightly against you, and you notice he's growing hard again.

"Puppy, I-I'm sorry, I think I need help, I'm still feeling…" he trails off, whimpering when you press your hips against his.

"It's ok Phantom, I'm here to help you with your heat," you answer with a smile and you giggle at his confused stare.

"My heat?" You see the realization dawn upon him a few seconds later, then you sink upon him in one quick motion. "Oh fuck, puppy!" He screams.

It would be a long night, that much you knew, but you had to admit, there was no one else you'd rather spend it with than the ghoul you loved.