#and if you want to pick a sign for them but it doesn’t pick them PERFECTLY. u can say ‘it’s not real’ or ‘not always the same’.

[bullet-prooflove]

Misdemeanour: Jack Abbot x Reader

Tagged: @kmc1989 @dizzybee03 @noxytopy @flyinglama @yousigned-upforthis

Companion piece to:

The Asshole King - Jack discovers you have an unusual technique for dealing with patients.

Bob Dylan - You help Jack to relax after an incident at the hospital leaves him temporarily blind.

Because Of You - Jack realises he's starting to heal in more ways than one after you spend the day taking care of him.

Boston - You reflect on the past after your ex-husband makes an appearance on a trying day.

This God Damn Fucking Day - Jack steps into the fray with things get messy between you and you ex-husband.

Jack doesn’t find Myrna, it becomes a Robby problem when the clock ticks over to seven signalling the end of his shift. He’s got much more pressing issues to attend to, like where his fiancée disappeared to. He pops his head up into Psych but there’s no sign of you.

She left half an hour ago, he’s told, which is a kick in the balls considering you carpooled together.

You’re mad at him he supposes. Ordering you out like that.

It’s something that will resolve itself over the next couple of hours because the truth is you’re not really mad at him, you’re mad at the asshole you’ve just discovered was fucking your sister while she was in his care, the same asshole that fucked you under his care.

That revelation, it’s a lot, he doesn’t blame you for taking off to try and get a little headspace.

He’s already crafting his letter to the ethics committee when he gets the call at home. A number he doesn’t recognises flashes up on his screen and it takes him a sec to pause the game in in the background before he picks up the phone.

“Yea?” He says half distracted.

“This is a collect call from Allegheny County, do you accept the charges?” He pauses then because now he realises maybe you didn’t just take a drive out to your sister’s gravesite after all.

“Yea, I’ll take the charges.” He says setting his laptop town on the coffee table and pinching his brow. “Faye honey, you there?”

“Jack.” You say, your voice frighteningly calm compared to the last time he saw you. “I got arrested and I need you to post bail.”

He rubs his palms over his weary features because this day, it just keeps on giving.

“Did he press assault charges?” He asks you as he pushes up from his seat and heads towards the wall safe, where he keeps a healthy portion of cash alongside your personal documents and your sister’s jewellery.

“Vandalism.” You inform him. “Someone carved the word cunt onto his hood of his car and then took a shit in the front seat after smashing the windows.”

Jack freezes, half way through dialling the code.

“Obviously it wasn’t me but that son of a bitch told them he saw me do it, hence why I’m currently in lock up diagnosing all sorts of bullshit for my cellies.”

“Fuck, I think it might have been Myrna.” He tells you as he opens the safe and starts to count out the bundles from his ‘go bag’ stash. “She was still at large when I left the hospital this morning and she hated him on sight.”

“Wow.” You say digesting this new information. “I gotta be honest I’m not even mad about it, he deserves all the bad shit that comes his way. Literally in this case.”

Jack tries to choke back a laugh as he closes the safe and picks up his backpack to stuff the money inside. He’s glad to hear the humour in your voice because this situation it’s fucked up especially after the day you’ve had.

“Faye honey.” He says after a beat. “You doing ok?”

“Yes, no, maybe…” You respond with a sigh. “I don’t fucking know anymore Jack. I was angry, then I was sad and now I’m ambivalent over the whole thing. I just want to come home, get a shower and sleep for the next three days. I don’t want to deal with anymore of this shit.”

This is your breaking point. He feels that acutely as he cradles the phone under this chin. You don’t have the mental capacity to see beyond this moment right now, not when you’re in the thick of it. Jack does, he knows he implications of this, he can see the fall out clear as day and the intention behind it.

A second-degree misdemeanour, it’s enough to get your medical licence revoked.

That’s the punishment for not playing ball with Richard, he can’t take away Jack but he can take away the other thing you love.

“Can you hang in there for me just a little longer?” He asks you softly. “There’s something I’ve got to do and then I promise I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Sure.” You say despondently, the phoneline beeping to tell you your call time is coming to an end. “Because what’s a couple more hours in this hellhole right?”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[silenzahra]

Oooohhh Miki... I have to admit that this reminded me a bit of my fic An electrical aura, but here Luigi is using his hammer, so... 👀👀👀

How about a new story about Protective Luigi? 😁💚 (I just can't have enough of him going FERAL when protecting Mario ‼️)

💚 You're safe with me ❤️

Luigi can't believe what he’s just witnessed.

That damn monster has just hit his twin with such force that he’s crashed into the stone monument that presided over the entrance to the clearing... and destroyed it.

And his poor brother has taken every single blow.

“Mario!”

Luigi runs to his side, panic-stricken. Mario protests slightly at the pain, dazed, but makes no attempt to open his eyes nor stand up. Kneeling beside him, Luigi cups his face with great care and notices the bruises, his black eye, the blood.

Blood that's also present on his arm and knee.

Something ignites inside Luigi. Something he can only describe as a small flame that springs up in his heart and soon begins to grow until it becomes a blazing fire that consumes him from within.

How dare that beast hurt his brother like that.

How dare he make him bleed.

Luigi gasps heavily. His heart breaks as he sees Mario lying on the ground, badly injured, his eyes closed, coughing from the pain and unable to get up again by himself. He doesn't remember ever seeing Mario this badly before... Usually, his brother would get up straight away, no matter how brutally he'd been beaten.

But this... This has gone a step too far.

Rage boils inside him, poisoning his soul. He can't let the being who's dared to cause his older brother so much harm get away scot-free.

It has to get its comeuppance.

Luigi slowly turns his head towards the monster. His hands are still resting on his twin's body, wanting to protect him, wanting to take care of him, but he takes them away from him at that moment and stands up. Without taking his eyes off the being, he walks over to where his hammer has fallen and picks it up, and, wasting no time, he stands in front of Mario, clutching his weapon tightly, ready to fight.

“You're going to pay for what you've done,” he mutters angrily.

“L-Lu?”

Hearing Mario's voice behind him is a relief. Luigi doesn't turn around because he doesn't want to let his guard down, but knowing that he is at least a little better fills him with fierce determination.

Mario sounds exhausted, dizzy, hurt. He can't fight with all those wounds. And the monster is still willing to put up a fight.

Luigi grips the hammer handle tighter.

“Don’t worry, Mario,” he says, his voice sounding firmer and more resolute than ever. “You're safe with me.”

He hears a soft sigh behind him and the sound of something crawling, a sign that Mario, despite his injuries, is trying to get up.

“I-I know, Lu.”

Luigi can practically hear the smile in his voice, which only intensifies the feeling of relief and, at the same time, stokes the fire that’s been unleashed in his heart. The love for his older brother is the force that moves him right now, the desire to protect him and prevent him from receiving more harm, the hatred for that horrible creature that's dared to make him bleed.

Luigi has no intention of letting it get away.

“Don't you dare touch him,” he mutters through gritted teeth as the monster takes a step towards them. “Over my dead body, you filthy beast.”

He’s well aware that he’s panting. He’s well aware that anger controls his words and every one of his movements. He’s well aware that there’s a possibility that he may get too carried away by rage, by his resentment towards that being who’s hurt the person he loves most in the world, and that said person will probably have to make him stop at some point. Luigi doesn’t often experience these outbursts of fury, but when it takes hold of him, he’s not able to free himself.

Right now he doesn't care, though. Right now, all he cares about is protecting Mario, keeping him safe, making that damn monster pay for what it's done.

So, when the creature pounces on him with a roar, Luigi raises the hammer above his head with a feral scream.

Don’t Touch Him 😡💚

~

I enjoy the idea of how ready Luigi would be if someone severely hurts his brother and he will not be terrified at all in fact be driven to seriously hurt.

(My devious mind kinda likes to think Mario would have to be the one to get Luigi to stop if he ever gets to a snapping point.)

Just don’t fuck with Luigi’s brother and you’ll live basically :3

[m-neuvillette]

Tokyo Revengers Men reacting to you hug them for the first time

Baji, Chifuyu, and Kazutora x fem reader

Author notes: creepy guy in Baji’s that touches you, protective Baji, fighting, abuse in Kazutora’s, panic attacks in Kazutora’s, swearing. Ugh I love Tokyo Revengers men, why can’t they be realll :(

Baji:

You unlock the door to the pet shop and walk in. You turn around to lock it again since the store is still closed. You head back to the employee only area and drop off your bag and jacket in your locker. You hear the door open and turn to see who is walking in. You see Baji walking in while also tying up his hair. “Oh perfect you’re here.” Baji mumbles out with his hair tie in his mouth. “Do you mind opening up for the first hour by yourself? I got a call from one of our suppliers saying his car broke down fifteen minutes from here. We need some of the materials today so I’m going to drive out there. If you’re not confident in opening by yourself I can call Chifuyu or Kazutora.”

You shake your head, “No I can open by myself! We don’t have any pets coming in till ten so I can hold down the store.”

Baji smirks, “Atta girl. I’m off then, don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”

You wave to him while he walked back out of the employee only area. You grab your name tag and head up to the front of the store. You clean up some displays and get the cash register going then once it hits eight, you are unlocking the doors once again and turn on the open sign. Time is going by pretty slow, maybe it’s because you don’t have anyone to talk to. You then hear someone come in and greet them, “Good morning! Welcome in.” They give you a smile and go straight to the treats section. They pick out a couple bags and come to the register and check out. It was a quick transaction and before you know it you are the only one in the store again.

You look around to see if there is anything you can do to kill time. You decide to organize to toy wall. You hear another person come in and you step out from where you are to greet them, “Good morning! Welcome in.” The guy looks around and makes eye contact with you. The guy is tall and big but that isn’t watch catches your eye. His clothes are ripped a bit and messy, he also is swaying a bit. Is he drunk at eight a.m.? You decide to step back to the toy wall to help with your nerves.

Five minutes go by and you haven’t heard the guy. You think about going to look for him to make sure he hasn’t done anything. You are snapped out of your thoughts with two arms caging you with a smelly breath breathing down your neck. “Hey, sweetheart. All alone? Let me keep you some company.” The guy slurs out. You can just smell the alcohol oozing off of him.

You speak in your customer service voice, “Sir, I can help you find something or schedule an appointment if thats what you need.”

He moves one of his hands off the wall then runs it up and down your body then stops at your butt and squeezes it.

You smack his hand then jump to the side. “Do not touch me.” You snapped.

“Come on babyyy. I know you liked it.”

You take a deep breath and in your customer service voice, “Sir please leave. You are not welcome here anymore after what you did to me.” You really hate that out of all days this creep would come in, is the day that you’re by yourself.

He laughs while reaching his arm out towards you, “No I think you want me here. Now let’s go and have some fun.”

His hand gets closer and you can only step back and close your eyes. That’s when you bump into something hard. You open your eyes and turn your head to see Baji staring ahead with a deadly glare. You breathe out, “Baji…”

Baji grabs the wrist of the guy and snaps it. The guy howls in pain and tries to pull his arm back but Baji doesn’t let him. “She told you not to touch her and leave. You failed to do both. Now you’ll deal with me.”

He steps in front of you then pushes you back a bit with his other hand. You understand his silent message and you step back enough to give him enough room but also being able to see what will happen.

Baji then winds the hand that just pushed you behind him and sends it flying into the guys face. The guy crumbles down to the floor. “Stop it, please!”

Baji grabs the guys hair and pulls him to look at him, “Isn’t that what my girl said? Why should I stop because you asked? Isn’t that what you did, you piece of shit.” He then smashes the guys face with his knee.

The guy then falls flat onto the floor not moving. Baji rolls his eyes but grabs the guy by the collar of his shirt and gets him to stand, “Apologize to her then I’m throwing you out of the shop.”

The guy looks at you with blood running out of his face and having a harder time than earlier making eye contact with you, “I’m sorry! I’ll never touch you again and I’ll never come back!”

Baji tightens his grip on the guys shirt and drags him to the front. You hear the front door open then close. He then walks back to you and looks you up and down, “You okay?”

You just stare at him not moving not knowing what to say. He speaks up again, “Uh hello?”

Not having the words to respond you just walk over to him and wrap your arms tightly around him. Baji is quick to wrap an arm around your waist and put a hand on the back of your head, pulling you closer to his chest.

“I need you to answer me. Did that guy ever touch you before I came back?”

You gulp and let out a meek, “Yes.”

You feel Baji loosen his grip, “Fuck, imma kill him.”

You hold him tighter not letting him walk away, “No, it’s fine now. Just, I don’t want to let go yet.”

Baji groans, “Fine but only because you like this.”

“I like it very much and with how fast your heart is racing, I think you like it too.” You put your chin on his chest and look up at him, “After all, you said I’m your girl.”

“I do like hugging you, it’s nice and warm. Also you are my girl, I’ll protect you anytime.” Baji flicks your forehead.

“Ow! What was that for? Wait since that means I’m your girl, does that mean you’re my man?”

Baji smiles, “Yeah, yeah it does.”

Chifuyu:

You should have known your Friday night with your “friends” would have gone this way. They sent you to the wrong bar on purpose then proceeded to block your number. Guess it saves you the hassle of blocking them later. All you know now is that you’re cold, tired, and upset. You look down at your phone to see that it is 8, you sigh and look back up. You look around to your left and right then look up at the sky. The area you are in is not safe for a girl to be out this late by themselves.

You shift back and forward on your feet trying to figure out what to do. Walking on your own to your apartment is out of the question. You could call a taxi like you did to get here but doing it alone at night made you uncomfortable. You do have one idea but you don’t want to be a burden. You could call Chifuyu and ask him to pick you up, but he’s closing the pet store all by himself tonight. The last thing you need to do is to add more stuff to his plate. You feel your phone buzz and you look down to see the notification.

Chifuyu

Hey. How is your night going?

You want to hit your head against the brick wall behind you reading that.

It could be better.

Did something happen?

You could say that.

What happened?

Well they sent me to a random bar in this bad area. Once I realized they weren’t here I tried to message them but they all blocked me. So now I am here alone.

You see he read the message but a couple minutes go by and no response. You go to look away but your phone starts ringing and you see Chifuyu’s profile pop up. You murmur “shit” under your breath. You answer the call, “Hello?”

“Hey sorry I had to get the customers out of the store. But where are you? I’m coming to pick you up.”


“NO! You don’t have to do that, I’ll just take a taxi. Plus Baji is going to be mad you closed up early.”

“Baji doesn’t care. He had to come in tonight to fix some shipping logs so he’s at the store now. He even pushed me out the door when I told him. So send your location to me.”

You sigh in defeat and pull your phone from your ear to share your location with him. “Did you get it?” You hear some rustling on Chifuyu’s end and then “THEY SENT YOU THERE?! That place is dangerous for you to be all alone! Fuck, I’ll get there as soon as I can. Just try to stay out of sight.”

You try to keep the tears that are building up in your eyes at bay. You whisper out a meek, “Okay.”

“Hey come on don’t cry on me-“ You then cut the call not being able to handle the situation any more. You walk to a pair of stairs up to a random building and sit down. You bury your face in your hands and can’t hold back the tears anymore. You let out heavy sobs and short breaths. Why did this have to happen to you? Why did your “friends” do this to you? You were nothing but kind to them. Now you are also burdening Chifuyu.

You don’t know how much time has passed since you started crying. You hear an engine of a motorcycle getting closer then hear it stop. Chifuyu then calls your name, “I don’t appreciate you hanging up on me but-“ before he could finish you are throwing your arms around his neck and pulling close, “Chifuyu…”

Chifuyu’s brain short circuits at the situation. His heart races at the thought of you hugging him. You two haven’t known each other for too long, you met through Baji at a bar the Toman guys frequent. He really wishes the hug could have been under a different circumstance because he can feel your wet face in his shoulder, your body shivering, and the sad tone in your voice.

Chifuyu hasn’t returned the hug and isn’t moving. Did you make him uncomfortable? You loosen your grip and go to step back before you are pulled back into a warm embrace by two strong arms. Chifuyu whispers, “Don’t let go.” You two stand by his motorcycle holding each other for a couple minutes in silence until a big gust of wind blows. The dress you are wearing really isn’t doing much to keep you warm so you bury yourself into Chifuyu more.

But Chifuyu has the opposite reaction he lets go and steps back. He takes off the light tan zip up jacket he had on and puts it on your shoulders. “They really left you looking like this all alone in the cold? Damn I would beat them all up if they were here.”

You put your arms through the jacket and zip it up, “I shouldn’t have worn this dress.”

“Why?”

“It isn’t the most practical.”

Chifuyu stares at you blankly. “I don’t care, I think you look very pretty. But let’s get you out of the cold.” He then turns around and grabs a helmet then holds it out to you. The both of you ignore your blush while you grab the helmet. “Thank you Chifuyu and I mean for everything.”

He hops on his bike then helps you get on behind him, “It’s no problem really. Do you have any plans tomorrow?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Okay then we are going back to my place and playing video games all night. We’ll stop and get takeout on the way back too. Then I’m taking you out for breakfast, because I will not waste my time with you. Also you can also change into some of my clothes when we get to my place. As much as I love you in that dress, I bet you want to be more comfortable.” Chifuyu then starts his bike then starts to take off to his apartment.

You cuddle up to him enjoying his warmth, “That sounds perfect.”

Kazutora:

You knock on Kazutora’s apartment door and hear a “It’s open.” You open the door and walk in. You kick off your shoes and walk into his living room setting up the tv for movie night. “I brought the snacks!” Holding up bags from the convenience store down the street from his place. Kazutora gives you a nod while setting up the movie.

You see he has a bunch of pillows and blankets on the couch. Kazutora follows your stare, “I set up the couch per your instructions.”

“YAY! Thank you, now I can bury myself.”

Kazutora laughs, “Do whatever you want. Just don’t take all the snacks with you.”

“Don’t worry! I got all your favorites.” You respond while handing him one of the bags. Kazutora lightly smiles then guides you to the couch.

You pull your snacks out of your bag then bury yourself in the blankets. Kazutora just giggles and shakes his head at your antics then starts the movie.

You never heard of this movie so you turn to Kazutora and ask, “What’s the movie about?”

He shrugs, “Don’t know. The worker at the video shop recommended it to me. All he said was that it was really good and had a good message.”

You nod and turn your attention back to the tv. You eat your snacks while the movie goes on. It ends up being about a young boy with his abusive parents. What an interesting recommendation. Maybe the boy becomes super successful?

About twenty minutes into the movie you are cold despite all the blankets you’re under. You look back at Kazutora who’s oddly interested in the movie. Sensing your gaze he turns his head making his earring make the little ‘ding’ noise.

“Kazutora are you cold?”

“No. Are you?” You shake your head and he doesn’t say anything. Kazutora ends up sliding close to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into him. He’s radiating heat, he’s so warm.

You snuggle into him and sigh, “You’re really warm.”

“Well I gotta make sure you’re not cold, right?” He says while tightening his grip on your shoulder.

The movie goes on and that’s when the physical abuse starts. The dad starts beating the mom in front of the kid then yelling at the kid. The mom is just screaming then starts fighting and punching back at the dad. Kazutora shifts slightly but you pay it no mind, thinking he’s just trying to get comfortable.

The next couple scenes are the parents trying to convince the boy to pick “who the better parent is.” In your opinion they are both assholes. But while you think about what the boy should say you feel Kazutora stiffen. That’s not like him.

The boy starts to cry and say he can’t pick a side and the parents yell at him. Kazutora quickly takes his arm off of you and cover his ears while folding his body in half.

You’re shocked by his reaction. You get up and try to kneel in front of him to get him to look at you, “Hey, what’s wrong?” You question.

Kazutora starts to heave, “Turn it off. Turn it off. Turn it off. Turn it off.” He keeps repeating really fast. You quickly turn around and turn off the tv which stops the movie.

You then turn your full attention back to Kazutora and put your hands over his and rub your thumbs against his knuckles. “It’s off.” Kazutora takes hands off his ears but is still heaving.

“Hey, take a deep breath with me okay?” You say while standing up and putting your hands on his shoulders, “Let’s get you to sit up okay? That’ll help your breathing.”

Kazutora’s body goes on autopilot while you push him upright. “Okay now follow along with me… deep breath in… deep breath out.” You lead him through a breathing exercise and it calms him down.

You’re still standing up but you lean a bit in brushing some of his multi colored hair out of his face. “You okay?” Kazutora just nods. “Want to talk about it?”

Kazutora looks away and mumbles. You couldn’t hear him at all. You sigh then apologize, “I’m sorry but I didn’t hear you.”

He makes sure to keep his gaze off of you, “I’m like the boy. I am that boy.”

You look at him puzzled, “What do you mean?”

He runs a hand over his face, still avoiding eye contact. You can see he thinks for a minute or two about what he wants to say. Kazutora turns back to you, those yellow eyes you’ve grown to love look lifeless.

Without blinking Kazutora tells you, “My parents were very abusive to each other. Whether it be in front of me or while I wasn’t home, it seemed like they never stopped. My entire childhood they begged me to pick a side and defend them against the other. I never had the heart to pick because I didn’t agree with either of them. I was a kid and I was so confused. I felt like if I did pick a side, I’d start getting abused. I never felt a loving touch from my parents and don’t know what a loving touch is. So watching the movie brought back memories I didn’t want to remember, especially after I built a great life for myself.”

You stare at him, while your mouth keeps opening and closing. You feel the tears burn your eyes but you hold them back not wanting to make him more upset. You don’t know how to respond so what you do next catches him off guard.

You throw your hands around his shoulders and pull him into you. The hug is quite awkward due to you standing. Kazutora freezes under your grip not knowing what to do.

You realize your mistake, “Shit, I’m so sorry. I can’t let go if you don’t like it.”

Kazutora panics. Yes, he’s never really had a hug and a touch like this before. But it feels so right. It feels warm and it makes him so happy. He feels you start to pull away but before you can he grabs the back of your thighs and pulls you into his lap.

He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you as close as he can. He then hides his head into your shoulder. “Please don’t. I really like this, it feels… right.” Kazutora whispers.

“Then we will stay like this.” You smile into his hair while running your hands through it.

You two sit there for a while in silence enjoying each other’s warmth. You think about how hard that must be to bring up and talk about it for him. You call out to him, “Kazutora?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for telling me. It must have been hard but I promise, as long as you know me you’ll always know and experience a loving touch.”

Kazutora pulls himself out of your shoulder and looks at you smiling, “Thank you. You mean the absolute world to me.”

“You are my world Kazutora.” You respond quickly while placing a kiss to his forehead.

Kazutora blushes and tightens his grip on you. “I want us to go on a date.”

“That sounds perfect.” Kazutora beams at your answer then pulls you to lay down on top of him. You two cuddle until you both fall asleep in each other’s arms.

[hazbinhotei]

new clothes.

read part one here

warnings/tags: none

word count: 1239

summary: Just like he had promised, Alastor takes you on a shopping adventure around Pentagram City—and to your surprise, you actually enjoy it.

alastor x gn!reader — can be read as platonic or romantic! going a little crazy with the part twos recently. i made this fic purely under the lens of alastor and reader simply being platonic, but feel free to interpret it in any way you'd like. i also use the word 'like' 15 times in this scenario, so apologies if it's a bit repetitive. #sorrynotsorry

Pentagram City was not known for its subtlety.

Neon signs blinked obscenities in cursive fonts. Billboards advertised clothing lines made of little more than string and the occasional regret. The streets were paved with broken glass, demon spit, and the faint sound of muffled screaming. But none of that mattered—not when Alastor was practically skipping beside you, humming a jaunty tune like this was a Sunday stroll through some post-war Parisian street market.

He was, admittedly, in his element.

“I do hope you brought stamina, my dear,” Alastor chirped, his voice radiating from nowhere and everywhere, the ambient static dancing over your skin like a light breeze. “We’ve quite a few stops ahead of us! I’ve curated only the finest boutiques—places that still value craftsmanship, taste, and the glorious art of layering!”

You tried to match his pace, clutching your shoulder bag a little tighter as a succubus in stilettos passed by wearing a dress that could barely qualify as dental floss. “Honestly, I’m just hoping to find one place that doesn’t sell fishnets by the square inch.”

“Oh-hoho! Then you are in excellent company!” Alastor’s grin glinted, resembling a sharp knife in the sun. “Come! Our first stop—Mortimer’s Macabre Mode! The tailors there are to die for."

You paused. “Isn’t that the place with the eyeball mannequins that blink when you get too close?”

“The very same! Aren’t they charming?”

“...Sure.”

You weren’t quite sure what to expect when Alastor announced your destination was on the outskirts of Cannibal Town, since the name alone usually conjured images of blood-slick sidewalks and dismembered marketing strategies. You’d never dared venture this far in—too many rumors of flesh-hungry demons and butcher stalls that trafficked in more than meat. But to your surprise, the area just beyond the gates of the city had a different flavor.

The further in you walked, the more the grotesque gave way to elegance in disguise—grime softened into old-America glam. Nestled between a bustling butcher shop (was that a hand in the window?!) and a jazz bar pulsing with sour notes stood Mortimer’s Macabre Mode, its window display lit by gentle golden bulbs and mannequins dressed like they’d stepped out of a Victorian ghost story. The storefront was quaint in a lavish sort of way, with intricate ironwork curling along the awning and a doorbell that chimed similar to a music box.

The moment you stepped inside Mortimer’s, the atmosphere changed like someone had turned a dial. The lighting dimmed, the scent of aged leather and old cologne curled into your nose, and the walls gleamed with polished wood and beige velvet drapes. Despite the off-putting way the mannequins tracked your every move, the clothing was… breathtaking.

Long coats in rich jewel tones. Waistcoats embroidered with thread so fine you swore it shimmered. Button-downs with high collars, delicate cufflinks, even ascots in a dizzying array of shades.

“Oh wow,” you whispered, fingers brushing a black frock coat with embroidered lapels. “This is…”

“Sublime?” Alastor supplied, practically vibrating beside you. “Go on, pick a few things! Try them on! Let’s reinvent you, darling!”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t dress me however you wanted,” you said slowly, arms crossed as you eyed him with suspicion.

Alastor, perched nearby like a proud curator, clapped his hands once, eyes glittering with mischief. “And I shan’t! But I do know what cuts flatter you, dear. You’ll thank me, I promise.”

He gestured grandly to a nearby display, as if unveiling treasure, static humming lightly around him like a drumroll. You hesitated, eyes flicking from one display to another, trying to make sense of the foreign language of cuts, collars, and fastenings. Everything was beautiful, yes—but intimidatingly so.

Still, the way he hovered at your side, practically purring with enthusiasm, made it hard to dismiss your bubbling excitement entirely.

Two dressing rooms and four outfits later, you were forced to admit something slightly horrifying: Alastor was… really good at this.

“You’ve got an eye,” you said through the curtain, tugging at the cuffs of a dark forest green blouse tucked into high-waisted trousers that managed to be both elegant and surprisingly comfortable. “I mean, I feel like a museum curator. In a good way.”

“Well of course I’m good at this!” Alastor replied, voice smug but not unkind. “My dear, I’ve been dressing myself since the early 20th century. Back when people knew how to put an ensemble together without looking like they lost a bet.”

He tossed a matching overcoat over the curtain rod. “Here, try this with it. The color brings out the mischief in your eyes.”

You tried not to blush.

Still, you had to admit—it felt good. To look at your reflection and see something more composed, something deliberate. The outfits had a way of grounding you, sharpening your silhouette into something powerful. There was a thrill in the transformation, even if it was just for a moment.

Eventually, the shopping bags started to pile up.

You’d acquired a modest but marvelous collection: a few button-ups, structured blazers, tailored bottoms or two, and a pair of leather ankle boots that made you feel like you could boss around an army. It was more than you’d intended, but Alastor had insisted on covering everything—"A gift! From one proper dresser to another!"

And now, here you were: perched on a park bench tucked away in one of the quieter alcoves of the city, sipping lukewarm tea from a paper cup while Alastor lounged beside you like a hunter parading his recent kill of a particularly fashionable bird.

“Well?” he asked, eyes glowing as he adjusted his monocle—for flair, not necessity. “Do you feel transformed? Enlightened? Less like a half-naked tourist and more like someone of taste?”

You gave him a sidelong glance and smiled, a soft little thing, genuine and easy. “I feel like… I look more like myself, weirdly.”

Alastor quieted for a beat, a rare lull in his constant chatter.

Then: “How wonderfully peculiar,” he murmured, almost deferential. “To discover oneself through clothes… Ah, fashion truly is the soul’s most underappreciated mirror.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t disagree.

And as the day wound down, the two of you walking side-by-side through the less populated streets, your matching long coats flapping behind you like capes, there was a new sort of understanding between you. A deeper camaraderie, built not from romance, nor shared damnation, but something stranger and perhaps more valuable:

A shared appreciation for dignity in a world that had so gleefully discarded it.

And, of course, for lapels.

“Next week,” Alastor said beside you, his tone far too casual to be innocent, “we explore hats.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Berets!”

“Alastor—”

“Top hats.”

You sighed, but your smile betrayed you. “Fine. But only if I get to see you try on a newsboy cap.”

He gasped, clutching his chest as though mortally wounded. “The audacity!”

You smirked. “I dare.”

Alastor sighed dramatically, but you could see the way his usual grin widened in amusement. He grabbed your hand, tucking it neatly in his arm as he started walking once more. “This, my dear, seems to be the start of a wonderful friendship!”

You let out a soft laugh in response, warmth blooming in your chest from his words. You grabbed onto his arm with more reverence, the two of you walking back to the twinkling hotel in the distance.

Oh yes—Pentagram City wasn’t ready for you two.

tag list: @railgunuzi @frompiscium @rose-in-blue @catticora @milkissesx + @ghostofajinx [want to join/be removed from the tag list? check my pinned post!]

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎 ok idk how many that is but that much or max idk 🤭

Hahaha 1k for 🍎:

---

Eddie chuckles awkwardly and shakes his head. 

“Uh, sorry. Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Am I…” Buck sucks in a nervous breath. “I’m not putting you out, am I? I don’t have to stay here if-”

“I want you here,” Eddie cuts him off. “I mean, I wish… You know I wish you’d talk things through with Bobby in LA. But… But I’m always happy to have you here. I missed you.”

Buck exhales. “I missed you, too.”

“I was thinking I could call Chris?” Eddie asks. “Tell him you’re here?”

Buck grins. “Yeah. I’d love that.”

iii.

Bobby has to sit with it for twenty-four hours. Twenty-four. An entire shift. 

Buck is inTexas. He fled there very quickly after taking a bunch of leave. He’s angry at Bobby and won’t talk to him or tell him why. Eddie seems to think the answer is in a genealogy website. The last thing Buck and Bobby talked about that wasn’t directly shift-related was Buck asking Bobby if he could possibly have any siblings other than Charlie. 

It’s not lost on Bobby. He’s not an idiot. He can connect the threads of this puzzle without sending in a swab of his spit. 

Buck must have gone on one of these websites to get answers about his own adoption. He must have found a connection. All Bobby needs is to hear from Charlie to confirm it. 

Bobby really never expected it. After all, what were the chances? There were 4,110,907 babies born in the United States in 1991. Buck’s birthday is in June. Bobby’s child, the one he was never able to find, wasn’t due until July. And what? After years of fruitless searching, he was supposed to think that his child simply walked up the stairs of the fire station he coincidentally ended up at, literally looking for him? No. The thought was too storybook perfect. Too unlikely. And by the time Bobby learned it was an option, when Buck learned he didn’t know his origins after all, he already cared far too much about Buck to entertain the notion. He wouldn’t wish this on him, even if he might wish it for himself. 

So he never considered it. He never expected it. But now it’s all he can think about. 

He calls his brother after his shift ends. He’s sitting in the truck, unable to pull out of the fire station parking lot. Luckily, Hen, Chim, and Ravi have already left. He doesn’t want them to see whatever reaction he might have to the news he’s about to get. 

“Hey, Bobby,” Charlie picks up. 

“Hey, Charlie,” Bobby replies. He can hear the tension in his own voice. 

“What’s up?” 

“I have a bit of a strange question,” Bobby says. “But it’s sort of connected to what we talked about in the hospital, a little bit ago.”

“Okay,” Charlie replies, sounding confused. “What is it?” 

“Do you have a TreeBranchGeneology.Net account?” Bobby asks.

“Oh,” Charlie replies. “Yeah, I do. I signed up two years ago, hoping I could maybe find some long lost Nash cousins or something and…”

Charlie trails off.

“And my kid,” Bobby finishes for him.

“Mom asked about it,” Charlie says. “She thinks about them, you know? Her only grandchild that’s…” 

Really? She never cared to meet the other two. Missed that chance. And they weren’t even lost. They were right there. But Bobby isn’t calling to fight about their mother.

“Charlie, did you ever make any connections on there?” Bobby asks.

“No,” Charlie says. “Though, it’s been a while since I checked.” 

“Can you check again, please? It’s important.”

Bobby could do as Eddie advised and sign up for an account himself. Send in his DNA. But that would take days. Weeks. He needs to know now. 

“This is about the kid?”

“Please, Charlie.”

“Okay, hold on. Let me just try to log in…” 

Bobby waits through three failed password attempts, a reset, and an eventual successful login. It’s sort of agonizing. But beggars can’t be choosers. 

“Okay, I’m in,” Charlie says. “Oh! And I have a new connection notification.” 

Bobby goes stiff. “Please read it.”

“Wow, Bobby… It’s them. It’s your kid. He’s my likely… Likely nephew.” 

“Who?” Bobby begs.

“Says his name is Evan Buckley.” 

“Oh god,” Bobby exhales.

So it’s true, then. Buck is his son. The child he never got the chance to know. It’s Buck. It’s been Buck this whole time. 

It’s Buck.

Buck is his son.

“Bobby, do you know him?” 

Does he know him? He held his dead body in his arms and watched him be resurrected. He taught him to cook. He has laughed with him, cried with him, fought with him. He has been dragged into the shower in a drunken stupor by him. He has saved him and been saved by him. He has loved him like his own for years, never knowing it was true. 

And the moment Buck learned the truth, he ran. 

“Yes,” Bobby whispers. “I know him.”

🍎

He can’t blame Buck. That’s the thing. He wants to be hurt. He is hurt. But he isn’t angry. What would Bobby do, in Buck’s position? Probably not celebrate that his biological father killed his only other children. Maybe Buck is just carving himself a safe distance. 

He tries calling him again. It’s stupid. Really stupid. Buck didn’t pick up before, and nothing has changed. He doesn’t pick up now. 

Bobby tries leaving a voicemail. It doesn’t go well.

“Buck… I just… Uh… I had this conversation with my… You know what? Nevermind. Please call me back. I understand, okay? Just call me back.”

[alaskan-wallflower]

I love your post about Darry being the one who needs to be cuddled and Soda and Pony noticing his tells.

Do you have any headcanons for how Soda and Pony act when they need cuddles, and how the other two pick up on it?

ooooh yeah, sure!!

Soda

okay so there’s option one and option two

option one: sodapop will be loud as hell or just jump onto his brothers laps to be cuddled if he wants to be. he’ll whine til darry gives up and sits on the couch to let sodapop lay on his chest. soda’s not ashamed to ask for cuddles-not when he’s in a good mood, at least.

or there’s option two. soda’s upset and can’t admit it.

whenever he comes home from work, he’s really loud, slamming doors open in excitement, heavy footsteps bounding upstairs to greet pony or darry or whoever decides to show up at their house unannounced, loud talking nonstop, but when he’s has a rough day? he’s silent. and not just like “oh he’s quieter/more subdued than normal”m he’s SILENT. not a word out of him unless it isn’t a yes or no question (to which he nods or shakes his head), he closes the door nicely, he isn’t as loud with his arrival home. neither of them are quiet as emotionally intelligent as sodapop is, but darry can read soda like a book. he can tell by soda’s body language that he’s upset. soda doesn’t hold himself up the way he normally does. his shoulders are sagging, he can’t make eye contact. there’s another thing where if you’re genuinely smiling, a certain muscle is triggered in your face to make your eyes crinkle, and darry can tell a real soda smile from a fake one. with pony, he’s probably the least emotionally intelligent of the bunch, but post book, after realizing soda is grieving and deals with emotions just as everyone else does, he looks out for subtle cues. usually he notices darry giving soda a stern look down before it dawns on him.

it doesn’t take much to pry it from soda-usually darry just has to ask if he’s had a rough day and soda will just crumble onto the couch, crying. he usually cries out of frustration, and the crying sometimes makes pony wary, but he knows that’s just how soda vents. darry takes the initiative more than pony does, not because pony doesn’t care…but pony has a hard time acting quick on his feet with conflict like this. darry just pulls him into one of his infamous bear hugs and pony will pet soda’s hair and offer to talk it out. sometimes i=he’ll talk to soda about things he learned in school to distract soda from the hurt. soda’s a pretty open book.

Pony

ponyboy is different than soda. not only is pony in his “loner” phase, but you gotta think that losing your parents and having that overnight switch of darry going from a brother to a faux father and having your best friends die after one of those friends kills someone and you have to run away or face the electric chair, all in the span of eight months, and when you’re barely out of middle school? that’s emotionally stunting. so pony kind of struggles with expressing how he’s feeling. he feels numb a lot of the time when a problem arises, but there’s one emotion that trumps all of that: anxiety.

pony’s no stranger to anxiety. i’ve made several headcanons about pony struggling with chronic anxious tummy syndrome, so i think a lot of the signs derive from that. his brothers can tell when he’s getting nervous or needs a break or is upset. for one, his stomach gets pretty vocal, and soda is immediately on his case about that because he knows what that means, and usually as soon as it happens, soda’s pulling pony away from his work or whatever to snuggle, and pony doesn’t put up much of a fight. of the two, soda’s much ore emotionally intelligent. he always knows how his brothers are feeling, but darry’s not stupid either. sometimes pony will fidget a lot more too-pen clicking, leg bouncing, finger drumming…he’s getting nervous, and both of the, can practically feel it bubbling over. soda’s the one who holds pony more during snuggles, but darry’s life’s being there as a crutch too, letting pony curl up on him to hear his heartbeat. darry will talk to pony, assure him he’s always proud of him no matter what. he’s 6he reassurance guy, while soda’s the touchy feely guy. they balance each other out well.

hope this is good! :)

[poppyseed799]

Astrology is great because how else am I supposed to come up with birthdays for my OCs

[terrestrialnoob]

Gut Feeling

DPXDC

Commissioner Jim Gordon meets an odd kid in the precinct.

--

“Come on, you really don’t have a way to directly contact Batman?”

Jim smiled. Kids came to the station and asked that all the time. Usually, it was just curiosity and showing them the signal was enough to get them to sign up for the Junior Police program. This one looked a little older than most, teenagers were often “too old” to believe in Batman, but again, give them a little faith now and they’ll never loose it.

“Lookin’ for the Bat, kid?” Jim asked, knowing he was about to make this kid’s –

Jim froze. The kid turned to face him and it was Bruce Wayne. Not playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, but freshly a teenager Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne who Jim had checked in on time and again from age eight until he ran off on a globetrotting trip to find himself. The little Bruce Wayne with too pale skin and dark bags under his eyes, and not enough love to make up for all the grief weighing him down. And he didn’t look like Damian either, where Bruce was obviously his father but there were distinct traits from his mother. This was a carbon copy of a boy Jim remembered vividly.

“I am.” He even sounded like teenage Bruce. All business, like he was on a mission.

“I might be able to help you, but it’ll take a while.” Jim said and the officer the kid had been talking too gave him an odd look. He waved her off and told the kid to follow him to the commissioner’s office. Normally, he’d be more dramatic, put on more of a show for the kid, but his gut told him this was different, this was important. He offered the kid a styrofoam cup of water then closed the door behind him. “So, what do you need to talk to Batman for?”

“It’s personal. I need to talk to him in person.”

Jim took a sip of coffee from his cup. “He doesn’t appreciate me calling for no reason in the middle of the day.”

“So you do have a direct line?” The kid nearly jumped out of his seat. “If he’s upset, it’ll be my fault, just call him, please.”

“Who should I say wants to talk to him?”

The kid hesitated. “He doesn’t know me, but I have to talk to him.”

Jim frowned. “What’s your name, kid?”

He swallowed and looked like he wasn’t going to answer for a moment. “Danny.”

“Danny…?” Jim wanted a last name but Danny kept quiet. Jim sighed, “He’s likely not going to show up until sundown.”

“I can wait, as long as you guarantee he’ll show.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why you need Batman?” Jim just got a glare in response. “What about one of the other heroes?”

“Only Batman, no one else can help.”

“You sure about that? Not even Superman?”

“Not unless Superman can get me in the same room as Batman.”

“Why’s it so important that you meet him in person?”

“It’s personal.”

Jim liked this less and less by the minute. “Do your parents know you’re here?”

Danny looked away but right when it looked like he wouldn’t say anything he mumbled. “They wouldn’t care anyway.”

After another moment to give the kid time to reconsider, Jim pulled out the Bat-phone. It was a normal Wayne-Tech cell phone, but Jim had been given very specific instructions on how and when to use it. The phone listed all the Gotham Vigilantes without visible numbers so they couldn’t be copied and handed out. He pressed the one for Batman.

“Stand outside, would you?” The kid gave him a look, but followed the request. Jim could see his shadow in the door’s window, not so subtle eavesdropping.

It rang a few times, and Jim sat there awkwardly with a teenager listening to his every move. Finally, a familiar voice picked up the other end of the line. “Commissioner Gordon.”

“Sorry to call you out of the blue Batman, but I’ve got a kid here who needs your help.”

“Who?”

“Says his name is Danny, that you’ve never met him but you’re the only one who can help him.”

“Why?”

“Refuses to tell me.”

“What’s your best guess, Commissioner?”

Jim looked at Danny’s shadow, it looked like he was straining his ears to try and hear what he was saying. Danny had given him almost nothing to work with. Just his name, that he’s never met Batman but needs to talk with him in person. But Jim was here because he listened to his gut. A feeling like when you see a random rock on your neighbor’s doorstep but you’d never go in without an invitation. A feeling like you know what’s in the present and are preparing your surprised face. A feeling like when you cheated on your wife and you know she knows.

“He looks like Bruce Wayne.”

A beat of silence. “What?”

“Danny looks exactly like Bruce when he was a teenager. Exactly the same.” Jim hoped Batman would get it, feel in his gut what Jim felt.

“And he wont say why he’s there?”

“No, and he demands to see you in person.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

“10-4.” The line cut off before Jim had finished saying it. He called Danny in again. “He’s on his way.”

Danny glared at him. “If he’s not, if you called some social worker or something, you’ll regret it.”

“I’m sure.” Jim sighed and downed the rest of his now cold coffee.

The sun hadn’t set, but only just barely. Jim ended up taking Danny up to the roof in the end after all, if only to save his window from being broken into. The kid had a red hoodie on, but he was still shivering in the autumn chill and it was just going to get colder by the minute as the sun made its way behind the horizon.

Jim checked his watch and, at exactly an hour from when he called, he acted surprised when Batman and Robin appeared out of nowhere. “Bats.”

“Commissioner.” Batman greeted but his eyes went straight for Danny. “Danny, I assume.”

“Yeah, I…” Danny hesitated, looking at Jim and Robin.

All it took was four words from Batman. “What do you need?”

The kid held out his hand with a flash drive in it. “I’m your clone. My par- The people who made me wanted to make a stronger version of you, but they got ahead of themselves. My DNA is degrading and I’ll die if I don’t get your DNA to stabilize me.”

Holy cow.

“You don’t expect us to believe that, do you?” Robin sneered at him.

“The flash drive has all the info on it. All the data about the cloning process and the, uh, relevant experiments after that.” Batman gave the kid a look. “I didn’t want to waste time on unnecessary data.”

“If what you’re saying is true, why are you here, alone? Are they working on a different solution?”

Danny’s shoulders hiked up. “I’ve been a failure for a while now, I’m not worth the resources and they’d learn more from an autopsy.”

Oof, kid. Jim looked at Batman who seemed to feel the same… if Jim was reading him right.

“So, you wont object to a DNA test?” Robin asked with a cocky head tilt, at least he was relatively easy to read.

“You can try.” Danny said, and then realized what that sounded like. “I mean I wont stop you, but my DNA degrades faster outside my body. You’ll have to take me to whatever lab you plan on using.”

“Then we will.” Batman said and jerked his head towards where they’d probably parked that ridiculous car of his. But then he looked at Jim with a nod. “Commissioner.”

“Batman.” Jim returned the nod. “You’ll tell me how things turn out, yeah?”

“I’ll give you a report.” Batman joked – Jim could tell, it was gut feeling.

[berryfairyluvr]

hihi I loved the zayne princess treatment post could you do a sylus one as well please 🥹💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝

sylus and his princess (queen) treatment

pairings: bf!sylus x fem!reader

warnings: none really, maybe minor mentions of some memories

a/n: thank you for the love and the request xx hope you enjoy <3

With a high bounty on his head Sylus has many enemies. Now having you as his beloved partner in this dangerous life (and all the ones before and after) your life has taken priority over his own. Despite your stubborn tendencies, he always has eyes on you ensuring your safety.

He not so slyly suggests you stay at his place 99% of the time as an answer to any of your complaints claiming he has 'this and that' but really it’s to keep you close by.

You insist on waiting up for him after his many late night outings much to his opposition. The lamps dim lighting catching his eye through the window each time he returns to find you cutely tucked into yourself sound asleep on the plush couch. He’d chuckle quietly and scoop you into his arms carrying you bridal style down the dark hallways to the bedroom.

You often complained about the coldness of his marble flooring even in socks. He’s made sure to have his staff keep you slippers in your most visited rooms ever since.

You thought his shower was huge before? He had it expanded and added multiple shower heads. When you asked why, he responded with “Time is of the essence, now we can save it by showering together sweetie.”

He loves to accommodate you, adding a vanity to his bedroom, his and hers closet, shared armory access personalized just to your liking… The list goes on.

He’s discreetly possessive with his touches but it’s usually masked by his powerful demeanor. For instance, when the two of you are out he’s often guiding you on his arm or with his large hand splayed on the small of your back. At meals and meetings his hand finds its way to rest on your thigh.

He will not stand for any sign of disrespect towards you, those who haven’t learned that are met with something violently unpleasant. (Most times completely unbeknownst to you— Sylus makes sure you’re occupied)

You yap and he listens. Earnestly. And I mean undivided and devoted attention. He is so very fond of the way you light up like a child when speaking about your life.

His attention to detail is remarkable and he shows that in your everyday life. Whether it’s picking up on your favorite scent or noting what things make you relax more than others, he provides you with them as much as possible.

That travel magazine you’d been reading hadn’t gone unnoticed and to your surprise, he’d arranged for the two of you to escape reality and venture out for a vacation.

This man can compliment, and he can compliment goooood. He has no issue expressing his gratitude and respect for you through his words and oh boy is he good with his words.

Seeing you scared or fearful wounded him enough the first few times that it now melts him into a puddle at the first sign of worry from you.

this is his *please don’t be worried/upset* look

He doesn’t mind one bit helping you bathe and dress after a long day of work. He even brushes your hair.

Your words mean everything to him, he wants to hear it. (He praises you for it in return 🤭)

For all the excursions you often clung to him like a backpack atop his bike— he decided a spare motorcycle helmet just wouldn’t do for you anymore and had one made to match his.

His date at any and every auction, he revels in getting to flaunt you around all dolled up and on his arm. Some even say his demeanor changed since you began attending these events with him..

read zayne’s version here

requests open ❤︎

[sceletaflores]

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

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.1k

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

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

divider by angel @saradika-graphics!

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

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

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

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

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

Apparently, he was wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[hugsandchaos]

I’m writing this in the perspective of the citizens of Amity Park, just an fyi

Rules for interacting with Phantom

1. Don’t go looking for him. Phantom knows when someone is looking for him and will avoid you at all costs.

2. It’s suggested to learn a little sign language since Phsntom with randomly switch from English to ghost speak. This change seems uncomfortable in most cases and causes him distress when he can’t communicate what he’s trying to say.

3. If he picks you up or grabs your hand and starts pulling on you, don’t freak out. He’s trying to move you out of harm’s way. Follow him until he lets go.

4. If he approaches you at night and asks if he can stargaze with you, say yes. You won’t be in trouble if you say no, but we’re trying to get him used to humans.

5. If you spot him, don’t go out of your way to approach him. He doesn’t like that. He’ll notice you coming.

6. If you spot him and he’s near something you need, such as the entrance to your workplace or your campfire, simply say hi to him and continue to avoid startling him. He’s been reported to conjure up ice spikes from the ground around him or shoot ectoplasm when he’s startled, so avoid doing so if you can.

7. If you notice the Fentons near where Phantom is, try to redirect them. Phantom is our only real line of defense against other ghosts who want to cause harm.

8. If you hear a loud, haunting wail, don’t worry. That’s possibly Phantom’s most powerful weapon, and it’s highly effective against other ghosts. This is usually taken as a sign that the town is now safe again. Do not approach Phantom after he uses this power unless you want to get punched in the face. This power takes up most of his strength and leaves him vulnerable, which makes him extra cautious and scared of both humans and ghosts. If he’s injured and you want to help, it’s best to go in preparing for retaliation. (Extra warning: Phantom’s saliva contains ectoplasm, which is essentially acid for anything living. Be VERY careful, because he will try to bite as a last resort. Try to make sure he knows you’re there to help before touching him.)

9. If you’re a ghost hunter and you harm Phantom, and you hear a loud groan in the distance that oddly reminds you of a broken grandfather clock, apologize and do what you can to fix your mistake immediately. Phantom isn’t all alone. He has allies, and some of them, you never want to meet.

10. If he approaches you and strikes up conversation, it’s your choice to respond or not.

[strawberryyyenthusiast]

Diabetic Steve who is at a Dairy Queen with Robin after he went with her to an all girl punk band that’s she’s been wanting to see for years. Steve had been feeling weird all day but he didn’t want to bail at the last second because he knew that Robin would just cancel everything to take care of Steve.

(Steve would do the same for her).

Steve plops down into a booth while Robin goes to order them food. He pulls out his pod and winces when he sees his glucose level.

64 and going down. Not a good sign.

Just to be sure he pricks his finger and holy shit, he’s actually at 43. It’s at that moment, when Steve is wiping his finger with the alcohol wipe, that his phone decides to loudly beep to alert him that, “hey you’re crashing pretty hard and fast— take care of it soon!!”

Steve is rifling through his bag while Robin is already trying to rush their orders.

“Shit,” Steve mumbles to himself. “I’m out of fucking juice.”

His hands start to shake and Robin begins to freak out. Steve is always so in control of his diabetes, she’s never seen him like this. So, Robin does what any other person would do and grabs the largest blizzard she has ever seen on the online orders tray and runs over to her best friend.

“Here! Have this, I’m going to try to get you some apple juice!”

Steve just nods his head and slowly spoons some of it into his mouth.

“This tastes like shit, by the way.”

“You’re welcome, dingus. Now shut up and eat.”

The worker behind the counter comes over and starts talking to Robin after she sits in front of Steve. Steve can’t really make anything out right now since he’s trying to focus on making his hands work. But, he thinks he hears the mention of calling 911 and an ambulance.

Time passes a little slower after that. Steve somehow manages to get down enough of the ice cream that he is slowly rising again.

57 after he pricked. Thank god.

It’s at that moment that Eddie Munson, lead singer of Corroded Coffin, walks in. He went to his best friend’s, Chrissy’s, show and needed a pick-me-up after helping her lug all of her equipment back into their vehicle.

He goes over to the online orders tray and it’s empty. He doesn’t really mind waiting. He walks over to the counter and sees that the worker is extremely frantic as she sorts some shit out.

“Hey,” he starts, his fingers tapping the fake granite counter top. “Just checking, I’m here to pick up an order for Edmundo and it’s not on the tray. Do you know when it will be ready?” He flashes an awkward smile and the worker just points to the table behind him.

“We’re working on it. Your nightmare of a blizzard was needed for something else. Give us five minutes.”

Eddie nods and slowly turned around, where he sees the most gorgeous man eating his blizzard. Reluctantly, he might add. The man has on a light pink t-shirt and brown corduroy pants, thick lensed glasses sliding down his nose. The woman across from him was clad in funky colors and had a dirty blonde bob. She was talking extremely fast and gesturing with her hands a bunch.

Chrissy would love her.

He walked over and tapped the man on the shoulder.

“How’s my blizzard?”

He slowly looks up and Eddie is met with honey brown eyes and beauty marks for days. A straight nose and an angular jawline. Jesus Christ.

The woman looks like she’s about to say something, but the guy beats her to it. “It tastes like if a unicorn threw up in my mouth, but it prevented me from passing out. So… thanks.” He smiles. “I’m Steve.”

Eddie needs to become Steve’s husband immediately.

“And I’m in love.” He pauses and then sees the look of glee on Steve’s face. “EDDIE. My name is Eddie.”

“It’s nice to meet you Eddie. Are you free tomorrow?”

[solxamber]

Giving Them Chocolates on Valentine's Day with: Savanaclaw

Go here for other dorms

Leona Kingscholar

You find Leona sprawled out under his favorite tree, one arm draped over his eyes, looking about two seconds away from a nap.

Typical.

You take a deep breath, shoving down every ounce of nervousness, and step closer, holding out the neatly wrapped box. “Here.”

Leona cracks one eye open, lazily glancing at the chocolates like you just handed him an average Tuesday. With a low hum, he takes them, rolling the box in his hand with a raised brow.

“Hm? What’s this for?”

You narrow your eyes. “What do you think it’s for?”

He stretches, completely unbothered, as if he gets gifted chocolates all the time (which, okay, maybe he does, but that’s not the point right now).

“Dunno," he drawls, clearly messing with you. "You bribing me for something?”

Your eye twitches. “Leona.”

He huffs a laugh, finally looking at you, amusement flickering in his gaze. And then you say it.

"Happy Valentine’s Day."

And oh.

It’s like you hit him with a truck.

His smirk falters for half a second, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around the box. His pupils dilate—a barely-there shift, but you catch it.

He goes quiet. Not his usual lazy, I-don't-care quiet, but the kind that comes when he’s actually processing something.

Then, so smoothly it almost throws you off, he leans back, a slow, pleased grin spreading across his face.

"…Took you long enough," he murmurs, sounding downright smug.

Your heart does a stupid flip. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Leona ignores you, already sitting up properly, one arm resting lazily over his knee. "Pick a nice place for dinner tonight," he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. "On me, of course."

You blink. "What?"

He taps the box. "These chocolates. They’re from you. To me." He tilts his head, all sharp confidence and warmth. "That makes us partners now, doesn’t it?"

Your brain short-circuits. “I—wait, what—"

"Better choose somewhere good," he continues, completely unbothered by your struggling. "I’m not wasting our first date on cheap takeout."

Your heart is going through it.

Leona smirks. "Oh? What’s with that look?"

You swear you see his tail flick just slightly, the only sign of how incredibly pleased he is.

You groan, covering your face with your hands. "You’re doing this on purpose."

He chuckles, leaning in just close enough to murmur, "Yeah, yeah. You still like me, though."

…You’re doomed.

Ruggie Bucchi

You barely get the chance to say anything before Ruggie spots the chocolates in your hands. His sharp eyes flicker to the heart-shaped box, and he immediately grins.

“Oooh, what’s this?” He leans in slightly, tail swishing with interest. “Someone confess to ya?”

You blink. “Huh? No.”

He tilts his head, playful and curious. “Oh? Then, uh… you gonna keep it?”

You narrow your eyes. “Why?”

His grin widens. “Because if ya don’t want it, I can, y’know… dispose of it for ya.”

You snort. “Ruggie, you just wanna eat it.”

“Duh.” He laughs, not even bothering to deny it. “Be a shame to waste good chocolate, right?”

Typical Ruggie.

You shake your head, amused, before finally shoving the box toward him. “Good thing it’s for you, then.”

Ruggie pauses.

It’s subtle, the way his ears perk up, the way his tail stiffens mid-swing. His grip on the box is light at first, almost hesitant, like he’s making sure he heard you right.

“For me?” His voice comes out softer, almost cautious.

You nod, suddenly a little shy under his gaze. “Yeah. I like you. So, you know… Happy Valentine’s Day.”

For the first time, Ruggie looks completely, utterly stunned.

His mouth parts slightly, blinking up at you like his brain just hit a temporary loading screen. And honestly? He looks adorable.

Then—just as quickly as the surprise hit—he recovers.

Ruggie grins, his usual confidence flickering back into place as he shifts the box under one arm. “Well, well. Ain’t this a nice surprise?”

You raise a brow. “You okay there?”

“Pfft. ‘Course I am!” He laughs, shaking his head. “Just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

Then—softer, warmer, but still undeniably Ruggie— “I like you too, y’know.”

Your heart stumbles.

He notices, obviously, because his grin turns downright cheeky. “Heh. Look at you, getting all flustered."

“Oh, shut up.”

He just laughs again, effortlessly slipping his fingers through yours, tugging you along like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “C’mon, let’s go. Can’t let all this romantic energy go to waste, right?”

And just like that—you’re dragged along.

Jack Howl

Jack is not the kind of guy who gets flustered easily. He’s tough, level-headed, always the first to brush things off with that no-nonsense attitude of his.

Which is why seeing him completely short-circuit is so incredibly satisfying.

You hold out the chocolates, your heart hammering as you say, “These are for you. I like you, Jack. Happy Valentine’s.”

His ears shoot straight up. His tail freezes mid-sway. His mouth opens like he’s about to say something, but—nothing.

No words. No sound. Just pure, stunned silence.

You wait.

And wait.

Jack still says nothing.

But his tail? His tail is betraying him completely.

It explodes into motion, wagging so fast that you swear he’s about to lift off like a helicopter. NASA is calling. He’s about to reach orbit.

“…Jack?” you prompt, biting back a smile.

He blinks rapidly, as if rebooting, and finally—finally—manages to form words.

“I—” He clears his throat, cheeks flushed, voice a little strained. “I like you too.”

Your heart skips.

Jack rubs the back of his neck, glancing to the side like he’s gathering his courage. “Are you, uh… free tonight?”

You tilt your head. “Why?”

He shifts awkwardly. The tail is still going. “Because I wanna take you on a date.”

Your stomach flips. “Yeah,” you say, smiling. “I’d like that.”

Jack nods, determined, as if locking this in before fate can take it away. “Good. I’ll—I’ll plan something nice.”

You have never seen him this flustered. It is absolutely adorable.

And judging by the way his tail refuses to stop wagging, you’re pretty sure he’s never been this happy, either.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[monstersholygrail]

Your Werewolf bf pounds relentlessly into your sopping cunt, low growls rumbling in his throat as he tries to gain enough friction to make up for the unbearable barrier of the condom between you. Your laughter mocks him, even as it breaks between your whiny fucked out moans. You clench down, making your hot core even tighter around his massive girth.

Your bf throws his head back, a long howl leaving his throat at the sensation. Yet it’s not enough. In any other case he’d burrow his face into your neck and release his pent up frustration by claiming you and littering your body with his marks. But he can’t even do that.

“Take it off,” he snarls, speaking as much as he can with the muzzle covering his face. The metal soaked with his slobber and drool.

A lazy smile spreads across your lips, your mind registering his words but too lost in the pleasure to fully respond. You can only moan, voice cracking and whimpering as he plows his length into your tight heat. The force jerking your body back with every thrust even as you weakly try and meet them.

“Nyyaaah—hmmm. C-choose o-one— ahh!” You force out between wrecked moans of bliss.

Werewolf bf’s eyes flash dangerously. He leans down, trying to snap his jaw at you, and it only fuels his rage when he remembers he can’t, the muzzle stopping him again. He picks up his pace, his hips a blur as they snap into your weeping cunt. Claws sinking dangerously into your plush hips. You cry out loudly, body warping unnaturally with the intense pleasure coursing through your body.

He watches you carefully, his anger only sharpening his instincts. He knows your every sign like the back of his hand. He knows how good he’s fucking this tight pussy of yours by the way your eyes flutter just as your cunt does around his cock, he knows he’s turned your brain into mush as your lips spew incoherent babble, and he knows you’re about to cum when he feels you clenching around his length as if preparing to milk him dry and force every last drop of his seed into your fertile womb.

“This is your own damn fault, baby. Makin’ me choose the fucking condom!” Your Werewolf bf snaps, his voice raspy with need even as a feral smirk spreads across his face.

He slips out of your spent cunt just as you’re about to fall over the edge and an agonized cry rips through your throat at the loss. The sudden emptiness inside you knocks you off your axis, your body lost in the missing sensation. Werewolf bf doesn’t waste a moment, flexing his hands, and gripping onto the stretchy latex before shredding it to pieces.

Once free from one-half of his torturous confines, Werewolf bf slams his length back inside of you. Relishing in your screams as he splits you open in two on his giant cock. He stays all the way inside you, his fat aching tip grinding against that special spot inside you that has you seeing stars. Every nerve in your body spasms and sparks to life and before you know it your vision is flashing white as your orgasm overtakes you.

Werewolf bf roars as you suck his cock deeper and deeper, practically forcing his knot inside of you and making you whimper at the stretch. Your body violently shakes as cum on his cock, your mind gone as he’s fucked you stupid. He grins down at the sight and it’s that which has him flying over the edge, pumping seemingly endless spurts of his seed as deep inside you as he can get.

Your mind is truly gone as all you’re able to focus on is the sensations buzzing through you and your bf’s hot sweaty body pressed up against you. It’s only soft clinking of metal followed by a dull thud that has your attention returning to this plan of existence. Your eyes flutter open and fall onto Werewolf bf’s discarded muzzle.

His eyes glow with an unspeakable lust as he gazes down at your limp form. A low groan leaves you and you weakly shift to bare your throat for him because one look and you knew. He was gonna fuck you through the night till you repaid him an orgasm for every time he wanted to sink his teeth into your flesh but was denied by the muzzle you say he wear. He slowly hovers over you, his hot breath fanning your neck and sending chills down your spine, letting you know what’s to come.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Max "If It Weren't For The Baby" Verstappen | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: Max and George show no signs of stopping anytime soon and poor y/n is stuck between a rock and a hard place. but soon things escalate when Max accidentally opens his big mouth.

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

y/n_russell posted:

y/n_russell: Habibi come to Abu Dhabi✨

Comments:

user: SHE’S BACK, EVERYBODY STAY CALM!!! 🔥🔥🔥 user: MOTHER RETURNED TO THE GRID AND IT SHOWS. user: Abu Dhabi isn’t ready for her!! 😍 user: Not to be messy, but is that a bump or just the angle? 👀

user: Delete this before you embarrass yourself further. 🙄 user: You do realize that’s body-shaming, right? Yikes. user: Maybe it’s just the dress, maybe it’s none of our business. Either way���don’t. user: Imagine logging onto the internet just to get ratio’d in the comments. Couldn’t be me.

georgerussell63: Wow. 2 whole photo in front of Lewis’s garage? Feeling betrayed right now.

y/n_russell: omg george, do you want me to write "george is my favorite" on my forehead or something? relax. georgerussell63: I’m just saying, where’s the support? y/n_russell: maybe if your garage didn’t feel like the waiting room at a dentist’s office, I’d consider it. georgerussell63: That’s because we’re professional. y/n_russell: nah, it’s because you have the personality of unseasoned chicken. user: 💀💀💀 SHE CAME FOR HIS LIFE.

user: MAX. LIKED. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN.

user: Not Max creeping in the shadows like that. George, sweetie, you seeing this? user: Netflix doesn’t even need to make a script this season. The show’s writing itself.

landonorris: MOTHER.

y/n_russell: 🔪🔪🔪 user: The knives are out. Lando, RUN.

lewishamilton: Always great to have you around. Thanks for showing up and supporting me this weekend. Much love ❤️

y/n_russell: Wouldn’t miss it for the world, you know I’m rooting for you Lew! Big things ahead 💪🏽

f1teaspill posted:

f1teaspill: Okay, F1 fans, we’ve got a hot one for you! Max Verstappen and George Russell’s sister, Y/n, were spotted on a hotel balcony together, and it’s seriously got people talking. 👀 Y/n was supposed to be at a totally different hotel with George, so why is she with Max—especially with all the drama going down between them? 🤔

Is there something going on between these two? Or is Y/n just making it clear that she’s Team Max in this ongoing feud? You know we’ll be watching this one unfold closely... 🔥

Comments:

user: Yooo, what’s going on here?! Y/n is in Max’s hotel?? 😳

user: Is this a secret relationship or is Y/n just picking sides? I need answers!! 😬

user: So Y/n's team Max now? This is messy. 👀

user: Max and Y/n are lowkey dating and no one’s telling us?! I need the receipts ASAP. 😩🔥

user: Sis really out here with Max?? I can’t believe this. George is gonna flip. 😬

user: Okay, but like... is she betraying George by cozying up with Max right now? Or is she just done with the drama? 👀

user: Nah, this can’t be real. She’s out here looking all comfy with Max while George is literally her brother?? What kind of betrayal is this? 😱

user: Is this the kind of power move we’re witnessing?? Y/n dropping George for Max?? 🤯💥

user: Ok, but lowkey, I ship them so hard. Max and Y/n would make the hottest couple. 🔥🔥

user: No, fr. Max and Y/n are EVERYTHING. They look so good together, I’m lowkey obsessed. 😍👀 user: Can we just take a minute to appreciate how they’re literally radiating chemistry? I don’t care if they’re not dating—they should be. 😩💅

user: The way she’s just chilling with Max tho... George must be somewhere crying right now. 🤣💀

f1teaspill posted:

f1teaspill: “If it weren’t for the baby.” Three words that sent the paddock and the internet into absolute mayham today after Max Verstappen dropped the bomb during an interview. 👶💣

Fans are already in detective mode, dissecting every second of this wild moment. Whose baby? Is Max a secret dad? And what does George Russell have anything to do with it?

Interview Transcript:

Journalist: Max, earlier this week George Russell referred to you as a “bully” in his recent comments. Do you have any thoughts on that?

Max: (chuckles awkwardly) Well, you know, George always has something to say. I’m not going to get into it.

Journalist: But do you think his characterization of you is fair?

Max: (sighs) Look, I’m just here to race. I’m not interested in petty drama.

Journalist: It doesn’t seem like George is letting it go anytime soon. Are you planning to address it with him directly?

Max: (visibly annoyed) I really don’t see the point in—

Journalist: But isn’t it important to clear the air, especially since the tension is so public now?

Max: (snapping) If it weren’t for the baby, I wouldn’t even bother trying to make peace with him!

(A beat of stunned silence. Max’s eyes widen in realization.)

Journalist: The… baby? What baby? Max, can you clarify—

(Max mutters something under his breath and walks off, leaving the journalist baffled.)

Comments:

user: BABY???? HELLO? MAX, EXPLAIN YOURSELF.

user: What baby, Max?! WHOSE BABY?! I haven’t been this confused since Abu Dhabi 2021.

user: Can someone please check if Max even knows what he said? He looked so panicked when he walked off.

user: “If it weren’t for the baby”??? Sir, we’re not in Panem; calm down.

user: Peeta Verstappen has entered the chat. Someone hand him a loaf of bread. user: Peeta Mellark walked so Max Verstappen could run user: I just KNOW someone’s editing Max into a Peeta scene as we speak. Can’t wait.

user: Okay but what baby would involve George? George is childless?

user: Guys, hear me out: What if Max is secretly dating George’s sister? That’s the ONLY way a baby ties them together. user: Nah, there’s no way. George would’ve punched Max into next week already. user: Okay but think about it. Max. George’s sister. A baby. Uncle George. THIS IS LORE. user: I’m just saying, George’s sister has been looking very glow-y lately… 👀 user: Not a theory, just facts: Max is babytrapping George into a truce. 💀 user: Wait... isn’t George’s sister in Abu Dhabi right now?? 👀 user: omg and they were seen together on his hotel balcony jskjsk user: I’M SCREAMING. THIS THEORY IS TOO GOOD. user: Max... the man, the myth, the secret brother-in-law.

user: F1 fandom today: trying to figure out if Max has a secret family or if we’re all just collectively hallucinating.

user: Bro, if this is true, Netflix better dedicate a whole episode to Uncle George. user: “If it weren’t for the baby” is my villain origin story now.

user: GUYS. What if Max meant baby as in, like, his cat or something? We’re spiraling.

user: Okay but why would George care about Max’s cat?! Use your brain. user: Honestly, the only thing that makes sense is Max dating George’s sister. Uncle George confirmed. Case closed.

user: Y’all, the way I will actually SCREAM if Max and George’s sister are together. This is better than any race drama.

user: Max Verstappen?? A baby daddy?? In THIS economy??

user: Everyone’s fighting over the baby, but I’m just here wondering how Christian Horner is gonna spin this in interviews.

user: Plot twist: The baby is Christian Horner’s with Toto 😭

user: STOP. This is the most chaotic F1 season ever, and I love it.

Taglist: @ilovechickenwings @spooky-librarian-ghost @diaryofarandomkid @rd14 @hc-dutch @tremendousstarlighttragedy @grussellsprout @dannyespinosa06 @awritingtree @shelbyteller @diorbrxtz @96mcobo

[lemonlover1110]

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: Your boys want to pamper you for Valentine's day

Warnings: Fluff

*A day late but anywho!! A little fluff before updating bonds of fruition🥹

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji has never gone all out for Valentine’s day, but it seems that his little guy is a romantic. Little Megumi insists on pampering his mommy on the very special holiday. 

First thing in the morning, the four-year-old wakes up Toji to help with breakfast; in other words, Megumi wakes Toji up to cook while the child takes all the credit. Toji, who can’t even properly boil an egg, is forced to make the best breakfast of his life.

Then Toji has to set up a tray with the breakfast, some flowers and a card. The man won’t even mention the chocolates and teddy bear that he has to give you after you’re finished with breakfast. Toji doesn’t even know how Megumi found out about the holiday, but the little guy wants to go all out. He doesn’t know what you told the child, but Megumi took it to heart.

“Mommy, wake up. It’s Valentine’s day.” Megumi enters your bedroom, finding you asleep on the bed. Toji follows behind him, holding the tray with your questionable breakfast.

“Five more minutes…” You mutter, only for Megumi to come by your side and poke you. The little guy calls out your name until you’re forced to sit up. 

“Happy Valentine’s day, mommy.” Megumi says, climbing  onto the bed and wrapping his tiny arms around you. You can’t help but be a little upset that he’s woken you up so early, but his warm hug makes up for all his faults.

“Happy Valentine’s day, Megumi.” You answer, kissing the top of his head. Toji clears his throat, reminding you that he’s standing there with a tray. You pick up Megumi and set him down on Toji’s side of the bed, making way for the tray.

“Happy Valentine’s day, my love.” Toji finally gets to say it, followed by a sweet kiss. You repeat the same words back to him, before your eyes land on the beautifully decorated tray– The food looks out of place though.

“Oh the flowers are so beautiful.” You comment, and Megumi quickly takes credit, exclaiming,

“I picked them!”

Toji rolls his eyes, quickly arguing back, “Well, I bought them.”

“Thank you, my loves.” You tell them, ruffling Megumi’s hair and kissing Toji’s cheek. 

“I cooked breakfast too.” Toji adds, wanting to one-up the child. Toji knows that he wouldn’t go all out if it weren’t for Megumi, but Toji can’t help but take all the credit. The last thing he wants is for a snot-nosed child to take all the credit for his hard work.

“I helped!” Megumi claims, and you praise him. Perhaps a little jealousy seeps into Toji since the man isn’t getting praised for what he did, which is the majority of the work.

“Let me read the card.” You grab the card from the tray, and as soon as you open it, you see that it’s signed by both of your boys. However, Toji made it his mission to make his name huge, while Megumi’s is miniscule.

You swiftly look at Toji, who shrugs as he reads your mind.

Sure, Megumi came up with the idea but Toji made it all happen. That’s why he’ll make sure to take the credit.