#basically every page had something that was cut off

[b1nniecat]

🎶 counterpoint 🎶

chapter III: resonance.

pairing: college!au park wonbin x fem!reader

content warnings: swearing

wc: 2.1k

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♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡

The campus café was packed, the low hum of chatter mingling with the hiss of steaming milk and the clink of ceramic cups. Y/N sat tucked into a corner booth, her notebook splayed open in front of her, a half-finished iced latte slowly sweating on the table.

The page was a mess of scribbled-out lines, arrowed rewrites, and faint coffee stains. Her pen hovered over the paper, fingers trembling slightly as she tried to form the next sentence.

“I was thinking we could build the song structure around a softer acoustic verse before leading into a stronger instrumental chorus—kind of like a gradual climb.”

Wonbin’s dismissive voice echoed in her mind.

“That’s basic. Everyone does that.”

Y/N gritted her teeth, crossing out yet another line.

Too cheesy.

Too dramatic.

Too basic.

The words spiraled in her head, layering over one another until her chest felt tight.

“Ugh,” she muttered under her breath, smacking her pen down on the table and leaning back in her seat. Her eyes scanned the café aimlessly, looking for anything—anything—to pull her out of this loop.

A couple laughed nearby, sharing a dessert. A student in the corner dozed off with his head resting on an open textbook.

But her gaze kept slipping back to her notebook.

Her lyrics had always been her safe space. A place where she could put her emotions into something tangible, where they’d make sense. But now every word felt hollow, every idea stale.

A chair scraped across the floor, and Y/N glanced up to see Ningning plopping into the seat across from her, a bright smoothie in hand.

“Well, you look like you’ve been through it,” Ningning said cheerfully.

Y/N let out a weak laugh. “Thanks.”

Ningning’s sharp eyes flickered to the chaotic scribbles in Y/N’s notebook. “Writing again?”

Y/N shrugged, closing the notebook with a soft thud. “Trying. Failing.”

“Creative block?”

“More like… creative self-loathing.”

Ningning hummed, tilting her head slightly. “Is this about—?”

“No,” Y/N said quickly, cutting her off. “It’s not about him. It’s just me. I’m just… stuck.”

Ningning raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. “Alright, we’re not spiraling today. Close the notebook. Take a breath.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, leaning back in her seat as Ningning pushed her smoothie across the table.

“Here. Try this. It’s supposed to taste like sunshine and rainbows or something.”

Y/N took the cup and sipped hesitantly. Her face scrunched up immediately. “Why is it so sweet? Did you order liquid candy?”

“Excuse me, this is peak beverage science. You just have boring taste buds.”

They both laughed softly, the tension in Y/N’s shoulders easing slightly. For a moment, it felt like the frustration clouding her head had cracked open, just a little.

Ningning’s gaze flickered back to the notebook, now closed but still sitting between them like an elephant in the room.

“Okay, serious question.” She leaned forward slightly, her voice softer now. “Are you stuck because you think your ideas are bad, or because someone else made you think they are?”

Y/N froze.

She opened her mouth, closed it, then shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“It kinda does.” Ningning poked her straw into her smoothie with exaggerated focus. “Because if it’s the second one, then he wins. And we don’t let broody boys with questionable social skills win.”

Y/N let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Because it is simple.” Ningning grinned, winking. “Now, are we gonna sit here and let you keep angsting, or do you wanna grab a snack and people-watch with me?”

Y/N hesitated for half a second before she nodded. “Alright. Snack run sounds good.”

“Attagirl.” Ningning stood up and motioned for Y/N to follow.

As they walked toward the counter, Ningning chattered about some guy in her econ class who pronounced “macroeconomics” like it was a new species of pasta. Y/N found herself smiling—not because her frustrations had disappeared, but because, for a moment, they didn’t feel so heavy.

But as they stood in line, waiting to order, Y/N’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She fished it out and glanced at the notification.

Y/N’s stomach flipped slightly, her thumb hovering over the notification before she locked her phone again and shoved it back into her pocket.

She sighed softly, shoving her hands into her pockets.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

The practice room was dim, the glow from the lone dusty lamp casting uneven shadows across the scratched wooden floor. Scattered sheet music and pencil-smudged lyrics lay abandoned around Wonbin, his guitar resting silently across his lap. His head was tilted back against the wall, eyes tracing faint cracks in the ceiling paint, his fingers motionless over the strings.

His mind wouldn’t quiet.

The same intrusive thoughts circled endlessly—the sharp edge in Y/N’s voice, the flicker of hurt in her eyes, the ghost of a conversation that felt like a stone lodged in his chest. And underneath it all, the ever-present weight of her. His ex. The lingering ache of words left unsaid and feelings left unresolved.

The faint sound of sneakers against the hallway floor reached him before the door creaked open. A mop of brown hair peeked in, followed by Seunghan’s lazy grin and Sungchan’s wide-eyed curiosity.

“There he is,” Seunghan said, stepping inside with a faint smirk. “The prodigal guitarist, lost in the void of his own thoughts.”

Sungchan followed, dropping his bag carelessly by the door and sliding onto the floor without hesitation. “You know, if you sit here long enough staring at the wall, it might start talking back.”

Wonbin didn’t move, his gaze still fixed somewhere far above them. “What do you guys want?”

Seunghan nudged a piece of crumpled sheet music with his foot before leaning against the edge of the table. “Honestly? To make sure you don’t turn into a piece of furniture in here.”

Sungchan propped his elbows on his knees, studying Wonbin carefully. “You’ve been here since, what, lunchtime? It’s dark outside now.”

Wonbin let out a faint sigh through his nose but didn’t respond.

Seunghan crouched by the table, leaning against it as he studied Wonbin’s face. “Alright, Bin. What’s the plan? Sit here until you grow roots or actually talk to us?”

“Not in the mood,” Wonbin muttered.

“No shit,” Sungchan said with a snort, tearing open his bag of snacks and tossing a chip into his mouth. “But, like, you’re also not in the mood to not think about it, so maybe just let it out. Otherwise, we’re all just wasting time.”

Wonbin’s fingers tightened slightly around the neck of his guitar. He didn’t look up.

“You already know what happened,” he said after a long pause, his voice low. “What’s the point?”

“The point,” Seunghan said, pulling a chair over and plopping into it, “is that you’re obviously still beating yourself up about it. And we’re here to… I don’t know, bully you out of your funk.”

Wonbin’s lips twitched faintly at that, but the small flicker of amusement disappeared almost immediately. “I was out of line,” he admitted softly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “She didn’t deserve that.”

“Well, duh,” Sungchan said, stuffing another chip into his mouth. “But, like… you’re human, Bin. You had a bad day. It happens.”

“It’s not just a bad day,” Wonbin shot back, his voice sharper now. “I—” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply as he leaned his head back against the wall. “I’ve been off for weeks. Since…”

He didn’t have to finish. The breakup. The ex. They both knew.

Seunghan tilted his head slightly. “You still hung up on her?”

“No,” Wonbin said quickly, too quickly. His hands flexed over the guitar again. “It’s not about her anymore. It’s just… everything. I feel like I’m carrying this weight that I can’t… I don’t know. I can’t drop it. Even when I want to.”

Silence hung heavy in the room for a beat.

“You lashed out because you’re tired,” Seunghan said finally, his tone softer now. “Not just physically, but, like… emotionally. And it’s okay to admit that. No one’s expecting you to be fine all the time.”

“Yeah,” Sungchan chimed in. “But also, you’ve got the self-awareness thing down already. You know you messed up, and you feel bad about it. That’s literally, like, 80% of the problem solved. You just need to do something about the last 20%.”

Wonbin frowned slightly. “Like what?”

“I dunno. Start by apologizing?” Sungchan said with a shrug. “She probably already thinks you hate her, but maybe if you, like… don’t bark at her tomorrow, it’ll help.”

Seunghan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “You don’t have to fix everything in one day, Bin. Just… don’t let it get worse. You care about this project, right?”

Wonbin nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“Then show her that,” Seunghan said simply. “Start there.”

Wonbin’s lips pressed into a thin line as he mulled over their words. He let out a slow breath, his fingers finally strumming the strings of his guitar once—soft, hesitant.

Seunghan stood up, clapping a hand lightly on Wonbin’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. Sungchan bought snacks, and I’m starving.”

Sungchan waved the bag of chips in the air. “Consider it an incentive.”

Wonbin hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the scattered papers on the floor, before finally standing up with a small sigh. “Fine.”

Sungchan grinned as he slung an arm around Wonbin’s shoulders. The three of them walked out of the practice room together, the dim hallway feeling just a little brighter.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly in the hallway as Y/N walked briskly, her tote bag swinging with each step. The evening chill lingered in the air, clinging to her skin even after the warmth of the library. Her headphones hung loosely around her neck, her mind still spinning from hours of studying and the earlier conversation with Ningning.

As she rounded the corner toward the dorm elevators, voices echoed faintly from the opposite direction. She glanced up instinctively and froze.

Wonbin.

He was walking a few steps behind two other guys, his head slightly down, hands stuffed into his hoodie pocket. One of them—tall, animated, with a lopsided grin—was laughing about something, his voice loud and carrying in the otherwise empty hall. The other nudged him lightly, grinning along.

Her pace faltered for half a second before she forced herself forward. Her gaze locked ahead, her expression steely, but her grip on the strap of her bag tightened.

The trio grew closer, their voices overlapping until one of them—not Wonbin—caught sight of her. The laughter died down abruptly, and their pace slowed.

Wonbin lifted his head just enough for his gaze to meet hers. He froze for a second—too long to be subtle—and she didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched.

The other two guys glanced between them, brows raised slightly, clearly picking up on the sudden tension in the air.

Y/N didn’t stop walking. Her eyes narrowed slightly, just enough to make her point. Her chin lifted a fraction higher as she passed them, not sparing even a glance at the other two.

“Hey,” one of the guys—the taller one, with the grin—said awkwardly, clearly addressing her.

Y/N didn’t respond.

The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable, stretching out as her footsteps echoed behind her.

Once she turned the corner, disappearing from view, Sungchan turned to Wonbin with an exaggerated blink. “Wait… was that—?”

Seunghan didn’t give him time to finish. “That was her, wasn’t it?” He covered his mouth with his hand, nudging Wonbin’s shoulder. “Dude.”

“Shut up,” Wonbin muttered, his shoulders stiffening visibly.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Sungchan held up a hand, his tone somewhere between teasing and incredulous. “That’s the girl you were talking about?”

Wonbin didn’t answer. His hands were still jammed in his hoodie pockets, his jaw tight as his gaze remained fixed ahead.

Seunghan let out a startled laugh. “Bro, she didn’t even look at you. That’s brutal.”

Wonbin let out a harsh exhale, dragging a hand down his face. “And here I thought you guys would take something seriously for once.”

“Alright, alright,” Sungchan said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “But, uh… have fun trying to mend whatever you managed to fuck up in the span of a day.”

Seunghan snorted. “Yeah, good luck with that. She looks ready to deck you next time.”

“I hate you both.”

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🏷️ @sftsohee @wonychu

a/n: hi!! going to be a little busy in the upcoming weeks but thankfully i worked ahead and have chapters 4 and 5 in the drafts already :3 updates will be a little slow until i find the time to basically finish all chapters in one sitting. after that, it’ll be consistent posting!!

- b1nniecat (>ᴗ•) !

[dunmeshistash]

I was gonna compile the parts there were cut from this episode but I realized it would be the whole of chapter 49.

If you're a Senshi fan I recommend giving that chapter a read! They had to cut a lot of small details. And Ryoko Kui is a master of conveying feelings and dread with her paneling and beautiful art, it's really worth a read even if you usually prefer anime.

[shellshocklove]

snapshot | old man!logan

pairing/AU: old man!logan howlett x female!reader

summary: short on money for rent, your joke about starting an only fans account, to earn some extra cash, goes over logan's head. but when an accident with charles puts your life in danger, logan takes you up on your offer.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! friends with benefits vibes who are also idiots in love, implied age gap, swearing, mentions and drinking of alcohol, use of pet names, logan's a bit of a grumpy dick, sex work, logan can't use a phone, logan can carry reader but he's also extremely strong, smut, praise kink, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), dom!logan, logan's got a dirty mouth, a little dacryphilia, sloppy blow job, facial, cum play, no use of y/n

a/n: a little disclaimer. i actually have no idea how OF work i only read the wikipedia page, so i've taken some liberties with it to fit it with the plot lol. the idea for the reader as charles' caretaker is inspired by @joelsgoldrush's fic never is a promise <- incredible fic that everyone should read! and also a big thank you to @guiltyasdave for all the encouragement on this fic!! <333 happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The coffee tasted sour on his tongue as he waited, engine running on empty, but the whiskey kept his throat warm. Behind the apartment complex the sun crawled up the horizon and split the the dark asphalt in pieces with streaks of blinding sunlight. The street lights shut off just as you walked out, the rickety door slamming shut behind you.

Watching you round the front of the limousine Logan pulled his seat forward, his rough hand grabbing the wheel as his left foot tapped impatiently on the footrest. A tickle in his throat had him greet you with a cough, and he brought his fist to his mouth.

"Morning to you too," you said, voice laced with sarcasm.

"Don't fuckin' slam the door like that– I've told you a thousand times," Logan grunted back and put the car in drive.

This was routine at this point. He picked you up in the morning after driving all night, and dropped you off again in the evening before he started his shift. Employing you took a large wad of cash out of his pocket, but at least he didn't have to worry about Charles being taken care of. You weren't a registered nurse or anything, not someone who'd had all the right references and education, but you needed money and didn't ask questions, and that had been perfect for Logan. He'd hired you about a year ago, and everything after had been routine.

When you didn't say anything back, only shifted your weight in the seat and leaned your head against the window, it pulled at something inside Logan. He couldn't deny you were a beautiful woman. He liked the way your nose curved, how soft your skin felt against his cheek every time you'd given him a reluctant hug, and he liked the way you smelled. It was primal, and in another life Logan would've had you in his bed already, but in this life, Logan was done with beautiful women.

Still early enough for the roads to be empty, Logan pushed the speed limit as he waited for you to speak – to finally say something trivial like you did every morning – some song you'd just discovered, or the plot twist in the reality program you watched every night, or how they were out of your favorite yogurt at the grocery store. He'd reply with a grunt, or with nothing at all, just letting you talk.

Out of the corner of his eye, Logan noticed how you picked at the skin around your nails, and when the sharp metallic smell of blood filled his nostrils, he heaved a heavy sigh.

"What's wrong with you?" he grumbled. A lilt of annoyance coated the words, and Logan hated how your silence had affected him. His harsh tone didn't seem to bother you, and the realization cut like a knife; biting down, Logan's jaw clenched.

"It's nothing."

Logan had to hold back the scoff he wanted to let out, "Clearly it's somethin', kid."

Finally, a reaction out of you. Pushing yourself to sit up straight, you let out a sigh as you turned your head to look at him. "My landlord raised my rent again… I'm thinking about how I'm gonna pay rent this month. I'm gonna be a few hundred bucks short," you told him.

Oh.

Gripping the wheel a little tighter, Logan couldn't help himself from asking, "You tellin' me you're quittin'?"

He couldn't blame you, he thought he paid you a fair wage, but it seemed that everything had gotten more and more expensive lately. The rides had been few and far between and the tank of gas didn't take him as far anymore. The weekends kept him afloat, along with bachelor and bachelorette parties, prom nights, and knuckleheaded business men too fancy to drive a regular cab to the airport. Had it not been for Charles' medication he'd give you a raise. Logan wasn't stupid, he knew he couldn't do this without you.

"No," you shook your head, "I wouldn't do that to Charles."

But you'd do it to me, Logan thought and let the words unsaid hang in the air between you as he pulled onto the dirt road leading to the smelting plant.

"I'll figure something out," you said, before a smirk teased over your face, that smile breaking forth the old you hidden behind this morning's melancholia. "Maybe I should start an Only Fans or something," you laughed.

"What's that?" Logan grunted, too focused on keeping his foot soft on the brake and avoiding the potholes to hear your joking lilt.

"Only Fans?" you questioned, one eyebrow raised in surprise before your eyes softened at the corners. "It's a social media platform for porn," you explained, "It's subscription based so you make an account and people pay a monthly subscription to see your content."

Porn?

Slowing down to a stop outside the gate, Logan put the limousine in park, the engine still humming.

"And how's that gonna help you pay rent?" Logan wondered, turning slightly in his seat to finally get a good look at you.

You were quiet for a second, eyes searching his face before the sound of a distant train had you looking away, almost bashful. "It's ridiculous," you muttered, "I don't have anyone to do it with anyway."

Before Logan could cough up an answer your hand found the passenger door, and a gust of sharp desert air seeped in. "I'll figure out the rent somehow… Sleep well, Logan," you told him, a wistful smile coating your features, before you climbed out the limousine and opened the gate. His eyes stayed glued to you as he drove past you, flicking to watch you close the gate after him in the rearview mirror. When you headed for the tank without your usual wave, a frown pulled at his face.

Stepping out of the limousine, Logan watched you leave, watched the way your hips swayed with new interest. Reaching into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, he found his flask – desperate to quench this fresh thirst with the last sip of burning alcohol, smoothing his dry throat. 

The cold coffee left a brown splatter as he discarded it; the coffee seeped into the sand. Inside the steeled walls he now called 'home' reeked of dust, like stepping into an antique shop, and Logan couldn't hold back his cough. Walking deeper into the plant with heavy steps, the old trinkets and equipment told a story of time passed.

So much time had passed.

Hanging his suit jacket over the back of one of the chairs Logan started working the small buttons on his shirt, shrugging it off before tossing it gently over the ironing board. Food would have to wait, he already knew the fridge wasn't stocked. Instead, he found the bottle of whiskey he'd left on the table, grabbing it by the neck before he took a large swig.

The whiskey helped, at least that's what he told himself, but his senses never dulled enough and the weight never got any easier. Sitting down heavy on the bed, Logan drank long and hard, but he couldn't keep his thoughts from trailing to you and what you’d muttered. I don't have anyone to do it with anyway.

What was it you'd called it? Just Fans? No, that wasn't right… Only Fans.

Logan remembered the first tape he ever saw; it had been the 70s, a summer in California, at some party he'd been forced to by a beautiful woman. The tape had been projected onto a wall in the living room, like background noise no one paid attention to. It had been lewd and obnoxious, but no one had seemed to mind, high as kites and drunk as skunks. Soon, Logan hadn't minded either, whisking away the woman to make his own private porn in one of the bedrooms.

Behind the woven fabric of his slacks, his cock twitched at the thought, but it wasn't the porn playing at the party, or the memory of the woman he'd fucked that filled his mind, it was you. 

It was innocent at first; the way your front teeth nibbled on your bottom lip as you pondered your next move in a game of chess opposite Charles, how your eyes sparkled under the low streetlights as he drove you home at the end of the day, and how your perfume had filled the limousine and clung to his skin that one time you'd left your jacket in the passenger seat. His hand came down to rub over the growing bulge in his pants, soothing the growing ache with a hard press, pulling a rumbling moan from his chest. 

Soon the innocent memories of you turned to filth. Logan's mind filled with images of you underneath him, his cock buried balls deep in your wet cunt as you withered for him. Then, as quickly as the first image had come, another took its place: of you on your knees with your mouth stuffed with his cock, gagging around him and swallowing him down like a good girl.

With each rubbing press to his cock, Logan couldn't shake the rolling images of you. It was wrong, never had he thought about you like that, never had he wanted to think of you like that, but once he'd started, he couldn't stop.

Working his fingers, it was almost instinctual as they moved to undo the button of his pants. His hand dug into his front, large hand palming himself with hard presses, as his cock hardened. Trailing his fingers upwards, stopping right above the elastic band of his underwear, his hand so close to wrapping around himself, a hint of shame pulled him out of the gutter.

He shouldn’t think about you like that.

Pulling away, like he'd burnt his hand, Logan let out a deep grumbling sigh. Leaning back on both hands, he let his head fall back as he squeezed his eyes shut. In his pants his cock throbbed with need. It had been a long time since he'd had a woman, so long since he'd felt the velvet walls of a tight cunt wrapped around him, too long since he'd felt like he wasn't a monster, if only for a few blissful seconds.

Bringing the neck of the whiskey bottle to his mouth, Logan drowned his need in  temporary numbness, focusing instead on how the warmth filled his chest and dulled every ache. Falling back with a heavy bounce, he nursed the bottle in the crook of his thick arm, letting his eyes fall shut.

Logan couldn't remember the last time he wasn't tired, couldn't remember when his body didn't ache with every move. His veins bled through with rust and alcohol, and he hoped the latter made the corrosion run smoother.

His eyes fluttered shut, and the same flashing images filled the darkness. Years of fighting, years of killing, all the people he'd lost. It was the same show every night, and every night it tore a piece of him away, of his joy.

The bottom of the whiskey bottle clanked sharply as it hit the floor and a cough got stuck in his throat. It ripped and jerked in his chest, and he keeled over himself, fighting against it. When his head hit the pillow again, his eyes didn't fall shut, they trailed the walls, found the holes of blinding daylight seeping in through the holes in the corrugated metal sheets, and his thoughts found you again.

Curiosity got the best of him, and a hand dug into the back pocket of his pants for his phone. The small icons and text blended together as the screen lit up his face. When Logan held the phone a little further away the screen only got blurrier. With an exasperated sigh, he sat up, his body protesting as he grabbed his suit jacket off the dining chair, digging into the inner pocket for his new glasses.

Slumping down in the chair, his glasses resting at the tip of his nose, he tapped at his phone. He rarely used the thing outside of work, but suddenly he tapped at something that made it speak to him.

"I'm sorry I didn't quite get that," his phone said.

"Hello?" Logan spoke back.

Again his phone lit up and the voice answered. "Hello, what can I help you with?"

"What is Only Fans?"

……..

Fitting a brittle leaf between your thumb and pointer finger, you studied Charles' plants. The table always looked a mess after he'd tended to them, dirt spilled onto the table and tools thrown haphazardly about. Cupping your hand, you brushed the dirt into your hand, and discarded it into a pot you thought needed it.

Flicking your wrist, you looked at the time again. It was getting late. Usually by this time, Logan would have you halfway home already. Resorting to cleaning up the tools, you decided to give him half an hour before you'd start looking for him. He never slept in, although you could clearly see he needed it. 

Logan wasn't a man to show weakness, not to anybody, rather, he showed his teeth, barking and fighting against you or anyone who dared speak to him. It had intimidated you at first, and you'd held your tongue, afraid he'd bite your head off, but in time you'd come to realize that his gruff demeanor was just that, a façade. 

Charles on the other hand, senile and more and more forgetful, was the opposite of his son. On good days he beat you at chess while he told you stories about 'the good ol' days'. His imagination was vast, telling stories about the X-Men like he knew them, like he'd been a part of them, and especially by nightfall his stories would become even wilder. He'd tell you about his 'abilities', how he could read minds. He'd tell stories about Logan too, tragic ones, that if it hadn't been for the stack of comics you'd found, you would've almost said they were true.

Finding the chair by Charles' bed, you watched him deep in sleep. A heaviness could be felt in your chest as you thought about how his good and lucid days had seemed to get fewer and fewer lately. You found yourself having the same conversations with him, and once again today, he didn't want to get out of bed, telling you his head hurt. 

You wished you knew more of his condition, but Logan wouldn't tell you anything other than that Charles suffered from seizures, and if he didn't get his medication the consequences would be great. The way Logan had said it to you, his voice sharp and strict, it sounded serious, and in the year you'd taken care of Charles, you'd been diligent with his medication. Not once had you experienced a seizure with him.

Reaching over him, your palm found Charles' cheek. Stroking your hand lightly over his face, you felt the prickling stubble against your skin. His comment earlier about his head, had you worried. Logan usually supplied you with Charles' medication – from where you didn't know – there hadn't been any doctor's visits or health checks from what you could recall.

Maybe Logan didn't have insurance? It was your only explanation, a reason for why he'd found a more creative way of caring for his father. 

In a way you respected it, hacked an unknowing crack in Logan’s harsh façade– he cared. Only respect didn’t keep you from wanting Logan to tell you more, to open up, but wringing out more than a grunt from him was difficult. Instead, you made sure to let him know when you were running low on the pills and injections, and usually by the next day he'd hand over a new bottle. 

Stroking over Charles’ cheek, another chill of nervousness ran up your back where a worry tugged at your neck. 

Yesterday, after a week had passed since you'd asked Logan for more medication. He’d told you not to worry, that he’d have the pills soon, but running so low you'd had to resort to rationing Charles' doses.

Pulling back your hand, your eyes found your watch again, but before you could register the time, Charles stirred beside you. Then, an excruciating blinding pain permeated through your body. It rang in your ears and had your body shaking in agony, but at the same time you couldn't move. You wanted to scream, let out the pain that froze you to the chair, but no noise came out. When your vision started to go foggy, you thought that this must be what dying was like, but never would you have thought dying would feel this painful.

Through the ringing in your ears, a heavy creak of the tank door could be heard– or was it a trick your brain played on you in your last moments? Like the broad figure moving closer, slowly, too slowly, like it walked through water. You couldn't see who it was, but you didn't have too. Surely, your brain showing you Logan in your last moments, must've been a trick. The figure hovered over Charles, maybe it feasted on him first, reaped his soul as an appetizer before it would have you.

And just as quickly as the pain had taken you, the pain stopped.

Heaving for breath, your body fell forward, it was like the air couldn't fill your lungs quick enough. Two large palms cupped your cheek, tilting your head to Logan's frowning face. If you didn't know better you thought he looked scared.

"You okay?" he barked, your head rolling in his hands, "Hey! Bub, look at me."

You found the strength to nod your head, but Logan seemed far from convinced. He swiped his thumb over your cupid's bow, a flash of red coating his thumb and his face turned to stone, his frown so deep it looked chiseled.

Then he moved with an uncharacteristic haste, hiking you up in his arms and carrying you out of the tank. Closing your eyes, you tried to put your brain back together the way it used to be, but everything felt scrambled. When your back hit the soft mattress of a bed, you finally opened them.

Over you, Logan's large form hovered. He said something to you, but you only registered his mouth moving, your eyes glued to his pink soft lips, and your vision cleared completely.

"Drink this," he ordered, shoving a glass of water in your hands, and just like that your hearing had snapped back. "'m gonna go check on Charles– don't fucking move."

With no energy left in your body, you wouldn't dream of it. Logan watched you take a careful sip, the water lukewarm, before he left you in what you finally realized was his bed. The first sip nourished your dry throat, like you’d walked for miles in the desert without tasting as much as a drop. Surging forward, you chugged the rest of the water before you fell back against his pillow, clutching the glass in the crook of your elbow.

The smell of him on his sheets overwhelmed your weakened mind; a deep heady smell with a warmth to it, woven through with the heaviness of man. It soothed your mushy muscles, helping release the tension in your body.

The time passed differently now, fast and slow at the same time, and after an eternity and a second Logan was back. The weight of him where he sat down at the edge of the bed, had your whole body tipping towards him. His large palm found your cheek again, the rough pads of his fingers soothing over the skin.

"You doin' okay?" he asked, his deep voice filtering through a hint of worry.

"W-what happened to him– to m-me?" you managed to croak out.

Logan's heavy hand didn't move away when the furrow between his eyebrows deepened, the one that seemed to be a permanent feature on his face.

"He had a seizure," he told you, like it was obvious, taking the glass of water from your hands,

He must've caught the way your face turned, the confusion that flitted across it, one that spelled 'seizures don't affect other people'.

"Listen," he started, drawing back his hand, "There’s no other way of explainin' it to you other than tellin' you that all those stories he's told you about him– about me… they're all true."

The frown that deepened over your face at his words, must've challenged the permanent one over Logan's face. "W-what? The stories about the X-Men?"

"Yes, the X-Men– Is he talkin' a hole through your head about anything else?"

"No, but… there aren't any more mutants."

"Not new ones,” he sighed, “But we're old, sweetheart– the last there is." His voice went quieter and quieter as he spoke, a hint of sadness eating the words, before his palm found your cheek again. "You see… Charles he's a very powerful mutant, and years ago he started a school for mutants–"

"–I know all of that already Logan– he told me," you cut him off, "I never believed him, I thought he was just confused– the stories they–"

"–I know, bub," this time he cut you off, but he let the next words linger on his tongue. Drawing back his hand, his eyes found the wall behind the bed. "I never meant for you to get hurt– it's my fault. If he gets his medication he's fine, but… you ain't the only one who's a few hundred dollars short– it's been a slow month."

Before you had a chance to reply, Logan rose on his feet. "The seizures messes with your brain, so get some rest. I'm gonna get his medication, and I'll wake ya in the mornin'." Logan didn't wait for you to protest before he grabbed the car keys off the table, and left you alone in his bed. 

Outside the moon climbed the sky, and the new darkness, along with your scrambled brain, had your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier.

……..

"Wake up, sweetheart."

Logan's gruff voice pulled you from a dreamless sleep; a sleep like you'd just closed your eyes. Blinking, your heavy eyelids pulled shut just as quickly as you'd opened them, leaving you with a snapshot of Logan's body hovering over you. You hummed, sleep coating your brain, while your body felt like you'd put it through the wringer at the gym.

"It's mornin'."

You tried again, blinking your eyes open with more success. Logan's black suit jacket was nowhere to be seen, instead he adorned a white tank top. Letting your gaze roll over him, you noticed the scars etched into his skin, so many scattered up and down his strong arms, and suddenly the memories of last night filtered back into your brain.

"Logan," you whispered so low even you weren't sure you’d heard it.

"I'm takin' you home, alright? I'll watch him today," he told you.

When Logan told you something, he meant it. Leaving you in his bed, it was like a replay of last night as he grabbed the car keys and black suit jacket off the table. 

Slowly, you sat up and leaned on your elbows, letting the world spin for a minute. Your clothes from yesterday clung to your skin, and you felt both cold and sweaty as you got out of bed.

With each step you took every muscle ached, but somehow you managed to walk out the door. The burning light of the morning sun blinded you, and with one hand raised you shielded your eyes from the harshness while you walked closer to the humming impatient motor of Logan's limousine. Just as you'd sunk into the leather seat and managed to shut the door behind you, Logan stepped on the gas, and the smelting plant vanished in the rearview window. 

When you'd finally left the dirt road behind and hit the highway, you cracked the window ever so slightly – the morning air blowing away the last of your tiredness. The closer you got to the city, the more your stomach growled. You hadn't had a thing to eat since lunch yesterday, the aftermath of Charles’ seizure knocking you out before dinner– you needed something to eat.

"Can we stop here?" you asked and pointed at a sign advertising a diner off the next exit.

"I'm drivin' you home," Logan replied, his eyes glued to the road.

"Logan, please, I'm starving," you begged with a pout.

A beat passed, his fingers tapping over the wheel as he weighed his options, then his eyes found yours where they lingered. Staring back, you didn't know what to do. Logan wasn't a man that said yes, he liked things done his way. You bit down on your bottom lip, showing off your front teeth like a silent 'please' written over your face, and Logan huffed.

The loud buzz of conversation hit you first when you stepped into the packed diner, Logan in tow. Waiters ran back and forth between the booths lining the windows, taking breakfast orders and pouring coffee, and at the sound of the bell as the door swung shut behind you, one of them looked up at you.

"Seat yourselves," she said with a smile as golden as the syrup poured over hotcakes, "I'll be with you in a jiffy."

Walking deeper into the diner, you found an empty booth in a quiet corner. Logan seemed pleased, never too keen on people, and after what you'd come to know after last night, you could understand his hesitation.

Logan. The Wolverine.

You remembered the comics from when you were a kid, remembered this one kid in your class in elementary school that had been obsessed with them, reading every issue and Wolverine had been his favorite. He was a scientist now, last you heard, and here you sat opposite the comic character himself.

"Mornin', what can I get you guys?" the waitress asked, pulling up to your table.

"Um," you grabbed at the laminated menu in front of you, your eyes scanning over the breakfast items. Everything looked good, your stomach growling loud as you took in the pictures, but then again you didn't think you'd ever been this hungry before.

"Just coffee f'me, ma'am," Logan grunted.

"Could I get a stack of the blueberry pancakes… and a coffee for me too, please?" you ordered, watching the waitress with the name tag 'Stacy' write down your order.

"That'll be all for you guys this morning?" she smiled.

"Yes, thank you," you returned her smile.

"Alright, I'll be back in a second with your coffees."

While you waited for your pancakes, Logan wasn't much company. He sipped his coffee, black and piping hot, as he leaned against the corner of the booth, legs spread wide, watching the people coming and going. In the silence between you, you decided to study him while you sipped your own coffee. He must've felt your gaze over him, from the way he clenched his jaw, but he never turned his head to look at you, instead he let you look.

When your pancakes finally arrived, you dug in immediately. Fresh, hot and deliciously pillow-y and soft, it was the best thing you'd had in a while. The blueberries weren't too sweet, cutting through the sweetness of the pancakes with a tangy taste, while the bitter taste of your coffee woke you up and filled you with new energy.

"So," Logan suddenly spoke up, almost making the piece of pancake you were chewing on go down the wrong pipe. "How you feelin'?"

"Like I'm having the worst hangover in human history," you joked, "But better now after some food and caffeine."

Logan only hummed, turning his head back to people watching as you ate your pancakes. His silence had a frown work over your features when you placed your knife and fork down to sip on your coffee. He'd been so quiet all morning, which in truth wasn't new, but there was something about him now, something about the way his scowl dug a little deeper into his skin that had you asking:

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothin'," he answered, curt and to the point.

"Clearly it's something," you pried with a tilt of your head.

Another beat passed, before he leaned forward, a cough getting stuck in his throat. It sounded worse than it was, he'd told you once. So, you sipped your coffee, your eyes flitting away like you needed to give him privacy.

"I've been thinkin' about your proposal," he finally said, and you felt your eyebrows pull together in a frown.

"Wait?" your eyes found his, "What proposal?"

"About that subscription thing– the porn," he waved his hand, and leaned back again.

"Only Fans?" you asked, keeping your voice low, "It was just a joke, Logan."

"Well, maybe it's an idea for the both of us. I need money for Charles' medication, and you need money for rent– it'll just be us earnin' a little extra on the side, a win-win situation."

Letting his words sink in, you mulled over his idea in your brain. It wasn't like you weren't attracted to Logan, in truth, you'd wanted him to fuck you for a while now, but it had only been a fantasy, one to conjure forth late at night when you slipped your hand into your panties. To have it become a reality, served up by Logan himself on a silver platter, you'd never imagined.

How could you say no?

"Okay," you said, your voice breathy as what you'd just agreed to settled in your stomach. Having a little more cash in your account every month wouldn't hurt, and getting dick regularly sounded just as nice, it had been too long. "I'm in."

Logan only replied with a curt nod accompanied by an approving grunt, "Now eat your pancakes so we can get goin'."

………

"Cold feet?"

With the limousine parked outside your apartment building, a week's worth of anticipation came to a head. You and Logan hadn't really talked much in the days passed since the diner; Logan's main interest more in you feeling better after experiencing Charles' powers for the first time. He'd let you have a few days off, to heal up, to which you'd taken the opportunity to do some research and set up an Only Fans profile. Currently it was blank, but tonight that would change.

"No," you shook your head, telling true. "You?" you asked, turning in your seat to face Logan.

Logan eyes darted across your face. He never looked at you like that, and for a moment the oddity of the situation, of what you were about to do, settled in your stomach.

"No," Logan finally decided, and reached for the door handle, “Let’s get it over with before it gets too late.”

At his movement, you reached forward and grabbed his forearm, "Wait!"

With a grunt, Logan turned. "What?" he asked, his eyes settling on you with an eyebrow raised.

"I-I have an idea," you told him, and you didn't know why you stumbled over your words. With your hand still wrapped around his arm, his eyes fell to your touch, lingering before they found yours again.

"I was thinking–" you started, retracing your hand, "Well actually… I just restarted taking birth control and I wanted to settle into it before we have sex, so I thought maybe– if you want to of course," you rambled.

"Spit it out, bub, I ain't got all night," Logan cut you off.

"I thought maybe I could suck you off– here in the limo," you 'spat' out your suggestion, your front teeth immediately coming down to bully your bottom lip.

"You want to suck my cock… here?" he repeated. Leaning back in his seat, you didn't know if he spread his legs on purpose, or if he unconsciously drew your eyes to the bulge hidden behind his slacks.

"Yeah, I mean…" you shrugged, "I thought it could be hot? Like something that people would want to see?"

"Right," Logan hummed, reminded of the invisible audience, and reached for the key in the ignition.

Leaving your apartment building in the rearview mirror, Logan searched for a more secluded place to park. The windows in the back of the limousine were tinted, impossible to look into, but you didn't want to take the risk of getting caught. After finding an empty parking lot, backing up and occupying a more private space in the back corner, Logan guided you around the limousine with a hand resting gently over the small of your back. Climbing into the back with you, his broad form filled the space.

Inside, he'd turned on the lights, the colors slowly fading in and out and casting soft shadows across his features. The leather creaked as he sat down, his spread legs already inviting you to slot between. A fleeting feeling of nervousness tickled in your tummy, the reality of what you were about to do washing over you like a wave on a stormy ocean.

Logan watched you from his seat, a picture of sin in his suit, as he slipped his hand into the inner pocket of his jacket and fished out his glasses. His jacket fit snugly over his wide shoulders and he'd undone the top buttons where you could glimpse curling chest hair. The way he looked at you through the glasses, eyes dark and curious, had a warmth of arousal starting to pool in the core of yourself.

Clearing your throat, you spoke up, "I was thinking I could set my phone up here–" you pointed to the space between the leather seats and the window. "And then you could use your phone and film me?"

After a little bit of fiddling to get your phone to stay upright, you turned to Logan, your phone capturing your slow walk towards him. He sat with his legs spread wide, his large palms resting on either side of his thighs. When you reached for the hem of your shirt, his finger twitched, digging into the leather, and a toothy smile spread over your features.

Tossing your shirt you sunk to your knees and slotted between his legs. Looking up at him through your lashes, you held his gaze as you sat pretty for him, fanning out the skirt you'd worn specifically for today. He reached for his phone and pressed record when you curled your hands behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra, capturing your bare chest.

The air nipped at your exposed skin, making goosebumps ripple over your skin. Looking up at Logan, his eyes burned against your skin where he took in your breasts, his eyes glided over your bare skin for the first time and soothed out the bubbling nerves that had been brewing. When your eyes caught on the tent growing in his pants, you had to restrain yourself from surging forward, your mouth already watering at the thought of tasting him for the first time – of your wet dreams becoming a reality.

"S'pretty," he murmured, voice deep and guttural, soaked in arousal.

He cupped your cheek gently, the rough pad of his thumb skating over your skin bringing with it a calming safety. Your eyelashes fluttered as you tilted your head into his hand, desperate to feel more of the weathered skin of his hand against your body.

"Y'sure you want this, sweetheart?" he asked.

Opening your eyes, you held his gaze. "Yes, please," you nodded in his large palm, "It's the only thing I've thought about all day." And it was the truth.

"Shit, baby," he groaned in response, dragging his hand down your neck to rest heavy over the top of your breasts. "S'that so?"

Gathering your hands in your lap, you nodded slowly, your teeth caught on your bottom lip as his hand brushed over your right breast. "Thought of how you'd taste," you confessed, the phone in his hand forgotten as you focused entirely on Logan.

"Yeah?" he prompted. One knuckle brushed over your hardened nipples, pulling a quiet whimper from you– pleased he leaned back, "Take off my belt, then."

Bouncing on your knees, you leaned forward on his command, and pulled the leather belt from its loops. You did it slowly, tilting your head upwards to catch his eyes through the glasses. He helped you with the zipper, making you watch as he dragged it down.

With your eyes fixed on his hand you noticed three barely healed scars between every knuckle, and you remembered who Logan really was. The Wolverine. He caught you looking, and his hand tightened into a fist, tightening it for a beat before he relaxed it over his thigh. Leaning forward, you placed a soft kiss over his knuckles, and his hand dug into his thigh.

"Sweetheart," he breathed out, his voice strained.

In the depths of your chest you felt a pinch, a tiny stab in your heart that felt too real, too personal for what you were about to do. Willing it away, you leaned back on your ankles instead, your hands dipping into the waistband of his pants to pull down his slacks. Lifting his hips to help you ease them down, a quiet grunt escaped him, a deep sound that traveled down your spine and pooled in your core.

Behind the soft cotton of his underwear the firm hard line of his cock strained against the fabric. The sight of him, large and heavy, and hidden, had your eyes widening with lust, and a slickness soiling the gusset of your panties.

"You want my cock, don't you sweetheart?" he coaxed, his free hand finding your jaw where he cupped it, squeezing your cheeks together.

"Y-yes," you breathed out, your smile straining against his grip before you dropped your mouth open, showing him your tongue.

"There you go, baby– good girl," he praised, pressing his thumb down on your tongue and rubbing the saliva around. A soft moan caught in your throat at the praise, and behind the camera Logan's eyes darkened at his new discovery.

Wrapping both your hands around his wrist, you held his hand in place as you closed your lips around him. Slowly, you moved your head, up and down, up and down, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked on his thumb like you would his cock. Logan's eyes were intense behind his glasses, his jaw clenching tight while he stared into your own.

"Such a filthy little thing f'me– so desperate for my cock down your throat you'll suck anything, ain't that right?"

A choked moan escaped you; they way he talked to you adding fuel to the fire in your core. Between the seam of your cunt you ached, wet arousal dripping into your soiled panties. He must've watched the way you melted for him, your brain turning to mush in front of him, because when he pulled his hand away, he laughed. A deep guttural thing from the depth of his chest.

"C'mon little angel," he tapped at your cheek, "Let's put you out of your misery."

Clouded in arousal, your brain stalled at the nickname, and you felt a new gush of arousal spill between the seam of your cunt. Logan's nostrils flared and a wild darkness settled over his face.

Shifting on your knees, you leaned forward to palm him through his underwear. Making sure to flick your eyes up at him (and the camera), you dragged your finger up and down gently, seductively, before you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his clothed length. Above you, Logan sucked in a breath, his free hand coming down to pet your head and press your face firmly against his bulge.

You couldn't help but breathe him in. Breathe in the heady deep scent of man, cheap whiskey and cigars – the unique scent of Logan. When you let out the softest little sigh, you felt him twitch against you, and quickly his hand on your head traveled down to the back of your neck where he pulled you back with a harsh yank.

You yelped.

"No more teasin'–" he reprimanded and let go of you, "Be a good little angel and make me come."

Logan leaned back into the leather, his body relaxed and inviting with one hand still occupied with filming you. Watching the deep furrow forming between his brows, and the way his eyes burned your face through his glasses, you could tell he wanted to take control, make you do what he wanted.

With a curling smile, knowing full and well you had the upper hand with one of his hands occupied, you slipped your eager hands into the elastic waistband of his underwear and tugged.

A wild and wiry patch of graying hair met you first, and you felt a flock of eagerness flutter in your stomach. Tugging the fabric down slowly, you made a show of revealing just an inch at a time. When you finally reached the end of him, you felt the wet head of him graze your cheek, leaving a streak of precum, as it sprung free.

His hard cock bopped heavily in front your face, and you felt your eyes widen at his size. He was big. The hefty length of him cushioned against his balls hanging heavy over the band of his underwear. Reaching a shaky hand forward you took him in your hand for the first time and familiarized yourself with the thick weight of him. With your other hand you traced the thick veins that lined the girth of him, memorizing every ridge and freckle before coming up to thumb at the fat tip where a pearl of wetness beaded.

A mix of awe and uncertainty pooled in your chest. How in the hell were you gonna fit all of him down your throat?

"'s okay, angel," he cooed, his heavy hand back to stroke over your head. His touch soothed you, a rhythmic warmth that shed all your insecurities.

With a content sigh you leaned forward and parted your lips to press a soft kiss to the leaking tip, pulling a "There you go, good girl, open your mouth f'me," from Logan. Urged on by his praise, you got a little braver. Flattening your tongue against him you started with a few gentle, teasing licks to the tip, your tongue dipping into the slit to taste him in earnest.

Above you, a groan rumbled in Logan's chest, a sound that had you eagerly taking more of him in your mouth. Suckling carefully on the fat tip, you let your tongue tease the underside of him, humming in content when you felt him harden even more in your hands.

Letting the excess spit run down the length of him, it pooled over your hands where they struggled to wrap around the thick girth. Slick sounds came from your hands when you started to move them over the soft skin, coating him fully in your saliva with every tug.

"Shit, bub, y'look so fuckin' good around my cock," Logan's voice vibrated from his chest, "But y'can take it deeper, can't you? Take that big cock down your throat?"

Well, you would certainly try.

Your knees dug into the carpeted floor of the limousine, pressing a deep pattern into your skin. Popping off his cock, you sat up a little more and shifted your weight. Looking up at him through your lashes, you were reminded of the camera pointed at you. Looking straight down the barrel of his phone you sunk down further on his cock.

Dropping your jaw, you felt your lips stretch as his hefty cock filled your throat. All too quickly the head of him kissed the back of your throat and you had to fight your gag reflex. Pulling off with a gasp, your eyes widened as you looked up at him.

"It's so big," you told him, both of your slicked hands jerking him in a slow rhythm.

"I know, angel," he cooed, his thumb running over your cheek. Leaning forward again, you placed a soft kiss to the fat head, and he hissed, "Too big f'you?"

"No," you shook your head, smearing the head from one corner of your mouth to the other, spreading the precum leaking onto your lips, and humming at the taste of him. "It's perfect– taste so perfect," you said through a pillowy kiss to the head.

With a buck of his hips, he pushed back into your eager mouth, slipping the fat head through your swollen lips and into your flexed throat, "That's it– right where it belongs, huh?"

Fitting him as deep as you could down your throat you felt dizzy with desire, an almost overwhelming feeling; the smell of him so close, how he filled your mouth and made your jaw ache. When your nose pressed into the grayed patch of wiry hair at the base of his cock, you spluttered with need, spit soaking the length of him as you came off him with a cough.

In an instance, Logan was on you, his free hand petting your cheek as he searched your eyes, "You okay?" I wouldn't be until after, when you edited the video that you'd realize he'd dropped the phone, focusing only on you in that moment.

"Yes," you replied, looking into his eyes with a toothy smile, "I want more– I want your cum."

"Fuck," he hissed, letting go of your cheek and leaning back into the leather seat, pointing his phone at you, "Go on."

Fitting him back down your throat again, you got lost in it as you found a rhythm. With a hand stationed at the base, you bobbed your head, letting your tongue dance over the length. More saliva dripped down and pooled over your hand, slicking up his pubes. It was messy, and hot, sticky and wet. Above you, Logan muttered praises between grunts and moans, encouraging you to take him deeper and deeper.

Feeling your throat loosen with every bob of your head, you pushed down and swallowed around him. Your eyelashes fluttered as you gagged and coughed, tears starting to prickle from your eyes, but you were determined to please him– to make him feel good.

When his hand came down to wrap around your throat, his thumb skating over your neck to feel himself, your eyes rolled back in your head in pleasure – the sight of you making Logan let out a deep growl. He kept the hand clasped around your throat as he started to buck his hips, feeding you his cock in small lazy thrusts.

"Right there, angel, so fuckin' good f'me… my good girl– choke on it," he mumbled.

You hummed around him at the praise, the vibrations pulling another deep moan from him. Fucking your face, bubbling spit trickled out the corner of your lips, soaking him and the coarse hair on his balls where they slapped heavy against your chin. Slipping a hand between your thighs, you couldn't help but touch yourself through your underwear – the white cotton translucent and drenched with your arousal.

Chasing his high, Logan's thrusts started to come quicker. More and more saliva overflowed, dripping down your bare chest and slicking you up in depravity. The grip Logan had around his phone was lazy, but he made sure to capture the way the shifting colors of the low limousine light gleamed over your slicked up chest.

"Such a good fuckin' throat–" he growled, squeezing around your throat as he pushed himself as deep as he could. Your nose brushed the wiry patch of his pubic hair, and you felt yourself start to gag around him as your lungs squeezed and throat tightened. He kept you down as you spluttered and swallowed around the length of him, and when the edges of the world started to blur he pulled you off with a jerk.

Gasping for air and filling your lungs with lost breaths, the hand Logan had wrapped around your neck was now pushing your own hand away to wrap around himself. The tears on your cheek mixed with the strings of saliva on your chin, as you looked up at him through fluttering lashes. Watching him stroke his cock, your eyes widened with interest as you shifted on your knees to sit up straighter.

His hard cock pulsated and throbbed with need as he stroked. Up and down you watched his hand; watched how beads of precum drooled over his fingers, mixing with your saliva before it dripped down onto your chest. A primal feeling came over you – an urge so strong to taste him come undone and claim you as his.

"Please," you begged, the fat head ghosting against your lips with every jerk, "come for me, please– wanna taste you so badly."

Logan's grunts and growls grew deeper and wilder as he stroked himself faster. "Look at me, angel," he ordered, and when your eyes locked with his, combined with a final hard stroke, he aimed the wet tip towards your face and came hard.

The first pump of his sticky warm seed, made you flinch before a smile widened and you leaned closer. Dropping your mouth open, he came all over your face, coating your cheeks, your nose, and forehead. Thumbing at the tip, he aimed at your waiting mouth to squeeze out the last few drops, and he finally let you taste him.

Wrapping your lips around the head, you suckled around him through content hums. You were covered in his cum, claimed, feeling the sticky seed drip down the bridge of your nose. You loved the way he tasted, salty and bitter, like Logan.

When the feeling of your tongue dancing over his sensitive head became too much, he pulled away with a hiss. His phone was still aimed at your face, and a little more clear-headed he filmed the aftermath of his orgasm closer.

"Even prettier with my cum on your face, angel," he said, letting his finger drag over your skin to collect his cum.

Pretty.

"Thank you," you whispered, your throat hoarse as he fed you his cum.

You hummed around his finger as he cleaned you up, making sure not a single drop would go to waste, and when he was pleased with his work after you'd shown him your empty tongue, he cupped your cheek.

"Good little angel," he told you with a pad, and pressed the stop button on his phone.

Back at your apartment the buzz of the excitement of the night lingered as you replayed the scene on your computer. You thought about Logan, about where he was and who might sit in the seat where you'd sucked him off only hours earlier. You thought about how filthy his mouth had been, and how much it had turned you on. And lastly, you thought about how you couldn't wait to see him again, and for him to finally fuck you.

Editing the video together, the last thing you did before you fell asleep was upload. Logan had taken a photo of your hand over his clothed cock before he'd left you, a picture that was now set as your profile picture. All tuckered out, you closed your computer and fell back against your pillows, dreaming of the smell of leather and cheap whiskey.

James & Angel ✨👼 📍 Texas subscribers: 15,478

1 post: "cute girl gives older limousine driver a sloppy blowjob"

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hopefully this was okay? i have concepts of a part 2 lol so please don't ask for it. instead, a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and/or tell me what you'd comment under james' & angel's first video! my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[miley1442111]

(part 1) before his choice- a.donaldson

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a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

this is like the prelude to the other stuff but i get that it's confusing that it's coming out later- i didn't think i'd turn this into a series so i didn't exactly have a plan, sorry :)

this is 18+, mdni plssss

summary: how it was before art ruined your relationship

pairing: art donaldson x reader

warnings: smuttttt, 18+, piv using protection (don't be silly, wrap it), oral (f receiving), cute couple moments

(i think that's it but pls tell me if i forgot anything:)

Part 1 of 12

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“There goes Stanford’s favourite couple!” Megan rolled her eyes playfully. Art had his arms draped around your shoulders as you walked around campus as the sun set. Art chuckled and flipped her off, smirking as you laughed. Megan had been your roommate in your first year and you’d been best friends ever since.

You and Art were Stanford’s favourite couple. You were tennis prodigies, both extremely talented and both of you were friends with basically everyone. Everyone was always rooting for the two of you, apparently there was a fan page dedicated to your relationship. 

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“How was practice with Tash?” He asked, his arms circling your waist as you leant against the wall, waiting in line in the canteen. 

“Fine, she’s getting better,” You shrugged. Tashi had never been able to beat you, but she was getting better.

“She’s not going to beat you,” He smirked, pressing kisses against your cheeks.

“She’s really good!” You giggled, feeling his hands squeeze your waist harder. “I wouldn’t mind, maybe then she wouldn’t hate me.”

“Tashi doesn’t hate you,” he shook his head. He knew it was a semi-lie, Tashi didn't like loosing. You were the only person capable of making her loose.

“She doesn’t like me Art, it’s fine, I don’t mind,” you sighed. “Anyway, enough tennis, what are we doing tonight?”

Art smirked. “We have that party-”

You groaned. Art always wanted to go out, then leave early. In your opinion, why not just cut out the middleman and go straight to your dorm? “Art, what is the point?”

“You look hot in dresses,” He shrugged and chuckled as you playfully hit him on the arm. “Come on, it’ll be fun! We can dance and hang out with our friends.”

You rolled your eyes at the way he’s pretending it’s a choice. “It’s not like I have a choice, I picked date night last time.” 

“Exactly, so we’re going,” he grinned and you cupped his cheek, kissing him heavily. He was so beautiful, what else were you supposed to do? You pulled away quickly and moved up in the line, beginning to order both your lunches. You drove Art insane sometimes. Your pretty tennis skirts, your sweet lips on his, you. 

He did recognise that his brain was still stuck in the gutter like a teenage boy when it came to sex. He didn’t seem to mind much though. 

He placed his hand on your ass as you ordered for the both of you and he saw how you gulped.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one who’s head was in the gutter. 

You collected your food and sat at a table together, enjoying the canteen food.

“You’ll wear the red dress, right?” He asked. It was his favourite colour, and the colour of the college that the two of you would be representing. 

“No, Nike sent over something for me to wear, I think it’s purple,” you shrugged. Your partnership with Nike meant at every event you went to, you were representing them. That meant they were often sending you new things. 

“Purple?” He questioned.

“Yeah, like plum-y purple,” you shrugged. 

“Can’t wait,” he winked at you and you kicked him under the table. 

Tonight was going to be a long night. 

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

You finished styling your hair as Art walked into your dorm, baby blue shirt and some black formal trousers on, his blonde curls looking particularly beautiful. The dress Nike had sent over was beautiful, Art’s jaw dropped when he saw you. 

You were gorgeous. 

“Hey baby,” You smiled at him, pressing a kiss to his stunned cheek. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He stated. You chuckled at him as his hands gripped your waist, making you look at him. “You’re so, so beautiful.”

“You look handsome,” You smiled, smoothing out his collar. “Ready to go?”

“We’re not going anywhere,” he decided, lust-filled eyes staring into yours before he pressed his lips to yours in a searing kiss. 

You kissed back immediately, your hands running through his curls. You probably had a ‘thing’ for his hair. His hands smoothed up the expanse of your back, pulling you impossibly closer. This is what he was, passionate, loving, and a little bit possessive. He radiated heat, his chest against your as he pushed you against the wall, his lips never leaving yours. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your lips as your hands dipped lower, going directly for his trousers zipper. 

“So are you,” you smiled, kissing him again. His hands found the zipper at the back of your dress, letting it fall to the floor at your feet. You unzipped him then started working on his shirt buttons, both of you forgetting about the party. 

His hands quickly pulled at your bra and underwear, leaving you bare as he stripped himself, thanking his past self for keeping a stock of condoms in your bedside table. He leaned over, quickly grabbing one and opening it with his teeth, sheathing his hard cock as you looked at him under you. He met your glazed eyes, lustfully looking at him, a soft smile on your face. 

You were so beautiful. 

You sank down on him, never quite used to the stretch he provided. “Fuck,” you moaned out. 

His eyes rolled back as you buried him inside of you. His hands gripped your waist, the faint remnants of bruises left from earlier in the week, when he was in this exact position. He pulled your face down to his as you started moving and started kissing up and down your neck between moans. He changed the position slightly, thrusting up into you to reach the gummy spot inside of you that made you scream out for him.

“God,” he groaned. “Fuck… f-fuck.”

You felt so good around him, it was one of his favourite feelings, the absolute euphoria of having your wrapped around him, using him to get yourself off.  

“You’re so good,” you whined breathlessly. “So good.”

Your voice and moans spurred him on, he loved your voice. He loved everything about you. 

“You gonna cum?” He whined, thrusting up into you. You nodded, bouncing on him harder as you began reaching your climax. He felt you tighten around him and he gasped, trying to not cum so quickly. 

“I’m c-cumming,” You groaned in his ear and he was a goner. He cupped your cheek, hap-harzardly kissing you to swallow the scream that was bound to leave his lips. You gripped his hips to still his uncoordinated and subscious thrusts as you both came down from your highs. 

Art still wasn’t done, he needed to taste you. “Let me taste it, please?” He begged, pulling himself out of you. “Please?”

“Art, we’re already late,” you reminded him through your sex-fueled haze. 

“Please, just let me kiss it,” he begged, kissing down your body, his fingers finding your sopping core. You moaned at the contact and nodded, a meek ‘please’ leaving your lips. 

That was all the confirmation Art needed. He latched his lips onto your clit, drawing out moan after moan. His fingers pumped in and out of you slowly, paying special attention to your g-spot. His tongue sucked over your over-sensitive clit and brought you to another two orgasms, not being able to stop himself from humping the bed in his enchanted state. He loved how you tasted, he couldn’t get enough of it, he never wanted to. If he could spend his days between your legs he would. 

After you came for the third time that night, he connected your lips again and smiled at you. “Thank you.”

Your fucked-out face was truly a sight to behold, and he had the pleasure of seeing it whenever he pleased. 

“Come on, we have a party to go to,” He smirked and you whined as he cleaned you up by running three fingers through your soaking core and licking them clean. 

He appreciated the new marks on your neck that he had created as you slowly got up. You dressed yourself in the beautiful dress once again, fixing your hair and makeup, then spraying yourself with some more perfume, attempting to cover the smell of sex. 

As you sat in the passenger seat of his car, he thought about how perfect you were, his hand in yours as he drove you to the party. 

Little did he know that this party would lead to the beginning of the end of your relationship.

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

art donaldson masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

[chrollogy]

SFW; fluff ><, scara uses a term of endearment for the very first time which catches you off guard, implied established relationship, pet names mentioned. divider: cafekitsune.

── it wasn’t foreign to not receive terms of endearments from scaramouche—it was simple, really. he’d rather just call you by your name. you asked him about it once to which he flatly replied with ‘it’s a silly thing for silly humans.’ and you left it at that, of course not without a pout thrown his way but more times than not, you’ve always wondered how pet names rolled off his tongue, how they sounded with his dulcet voice, though, the biggest question in your mind was: what would scaramouche even call you?

given his personality, he definitely excelled in colourful derogatory nicknames when it came to enemies or people that lacked basic common sense, though, those words were never directed at you. of course, you’ve asked scaramouche to at least try calling you something, even a simple ‘baby’ would suffice but all you were met with was an unamused grumble before walking away, clearly he was more flustered than he let on.

you stared at your boyfriend across the wooden study table, a serene expression painted on his handsome face, his amethyst gaze slowly followed the inked sentences across each page of the book. the house of daena was filled with low murmurs from other students, and researchers, sounds of pages turning every now, and then turned into a calming melody.

bored, you let out an audible huff which not only gained scaramouche’s attention but also from other students in your vicinity, “i’m so bored.” scaramouche simply turned another page from his book before replying, “last time i checked, you have an assignment due tonight.” you didn’t bother replying, instead, poking your tongue out at him despite his eyes glued to the pages.

not wanting to let this conversation go to waste, you spoke up again, “what do you think are the chances of me failing this assignment?”

scaramouche didn’t reply, not even having the heart to lift his gaze towards you. he knew what you were doing, making pointless conversation just to satiate your boredom, unfortunately for you, he actually had matters to tend to, and supposedly, so did you. scaramouche knew better than to engage in your silliness.

oh, but you were determined to get his attention.

“not even going to speak to me? how mean,” you feigned hurt, dramatically placing a palm over your chest even though he wasn’t looking.

“heeeeeeeey, don’t ignore me.”

this carried on for a few more seconds, calling out to scaramouche with a hushed tone but to no avail, his expression remained indifferent, still focused on the task at hand—definitely an expert at tuning out your silly antics, you had to give it to him.

“hat guy.”

scaramouche let out an annoyed sigh, it was a silly name that other students at the akademiya called him, he wasn’t fond of it but he didn’t necessarily despise the name—he just wished others had the creativity to at least give him a better one. nonetheless, you successfully gained his attention, a celebratory smile crept up your face.

you watched as scaramouche closed the book with a light thud before turning his sole attention to you, with an annoyed huff, he spoke, “yes, my love?”

your eyes widened, the smile you wore seconds ago unceremoniously falling off your face, heat blossomed from your chest, kissing its way up the column of your neck, and onto your cheeks. my love. were you hearing things right? did scaramouche just call you my love? you weren’t dreaming, were you?

he snickered at your unexplainable expression, brows knitted, and amethyst narrowed at you, “cat got your tongue now? you were just begging for my attention seconds ago—”

scaramouche cut his sentence short upon realising the words that slipped past his lips mere seconds earlier. oh. that was definitely not meant to come out. he clicked his tongue before looking off to the side, to avoid your wide-eyed stare. he hated that expression (not really), how it was able to bring out such humanly emotions from him, how it rendered him completely speechless.

you held the cosmos in your eyes, and scaramouche thought you were the most beautiful person in all of teyvat.

crossing his arms over his chest, he closed his eyes, and let out another annoyed sigh, “what? now that i’m finally giving you a pet name, you’re not even going to acknowledge it?” scaramouche clicked his tongue once again but didn’t dare meet your gaze.

“no, no. it’s just that . .” you trailed off, still trying to process his words.

my love.

you smiled, letting out a soft chuckle, “my love, huh? you’re adorable, did you know that?” this earned another grumble from scaramouche, paired with a roll of his eyes,

“i’m taking it back.” “you don’t mean that.”

he didn’t at all. in fact, my love was what he had been wanting to call you since then but he just didn’t have the guts to—it made scaramouche feel all weird inside whenever he imagined a scenario where he’d say it to you. he guessed there were consequences for keeping such thoughts to himself, seeing as how it accidentally rolled off his tongue.

though, the words felt oddly natural. like it was meant to be.

—

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum !

[orpheusluvr]

They catch a glimpse of you

NSFW WARNING

This is basically just some scenarios with various idv male characters reacting to seeing you either undressed or seeing a slight part of you (female reader btw)

But the reader (you) actually has a huge crush on these characters and you realise that this is a perfect way to get closer to them (totally not writing this in my perspective 😃)

Anyways, enjoy!!!

Characters included: Luca, Norton, Orpheus and Frederick

-

Luca:

You stared at the large red wine stain on your favourite dress and sighed. Even though poor Demi continuously apologised for being clumsy and accidentally spilling it on you, it made you slightly annoyed considering that you decided to wear this dress especially for today.

You carefully took it off and placed it in the laundry basket to be washed later. As you looked down, your eyes widened as you saw that the wine had stained your skin too. The material must’ve been too thin and the wine went through it.

Time for a bath then, it seems.

Just as you were about to remove your bra, you heard a knock on your door.

“Y/N? Are you in there?”

It was Luca.

You nervously bit your lip, feeling his presence outside behind the door. What would happen if you let him in while you were in this state?

“Y/N?! Say something if you’re there!” Luca called out.

“I’m here!” You said.

You felt a blush form on your face.

“You can come in.”

You immediately heard the sound of the door opening.

“Phew, you had me wor-”

Luca was immediately cut off after looking at you. His eyes scanned your body, admiring every part of it.

“Need help with getting rid of that stain?” He said, pointing to your chest.

You heart was pounding.

“That would be really helpful.” You smiled.

Luca smirked.

“Alright, I’ll take care of it. But I’m expecting a reward afterwards.” He said, carrying you into the bathroom.

Norton:

“Hey Norton, what are you up to?” You said, entering the lounge.

“Hey Y/N! I was just relaxing.” He said.

You sat next to him, opening the book that you were carrying.

“What’s that?” Norton asked.

“It’s a really interesting book that I found hidden in the library. It has a lot of weird symbols and things in it.” You said.

Norton gave a laugh.

“You really do amuse me a lot.” He said.

“I’m being serious! Just look at how interesting it is!” You said, turning yourself to face him and showing him the page that you were on.

But Norton wasn’t paying attention to the book at all. Because his eyes suddenly drifted off somewhere else.

Your shirt was hanging loosely from your chest, showing a large amount of cleavage. As you moved in the seat, your breasts would follow your movements, practically almost about to pop out from the shirt at any second.

Norton felt his dick twitch and gulped nervously.

“Norton? Are you alright?” You said, worryingly. You saw how his face had suddenly gone red and he was sweating. You placed the book down onto the table, then turned around to touch his forehead. He immediately let out a groan.

You were confused and shocked at how he suddenly became “unwell”.

“Hold on, I’ll get you a glass of water.” You said, getting up. But Norton immediately grabbed your hand, making you sit on his lap.

“There’s no need…just stay like this…” he panted.

You then immediately realised why he was acting like this when you felt something between your legs.

Orpheus:

You knocked on the door to Orpheus’ bedroom.

“Come in.” You heard him say.

You slowly opened the door, then gently closed it behind you.

Orpheus was sitting on his desk, completing some paperwork. He looked up and gave you a smile, his face illuminated by the candle next to him.

“Ah, nice to see you Y/N. Why are you here at this hour?” He said.

“I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d give you some company since I know that you stay up late.” You said.

You just needed a random excuse to see him, since you and Orpheus barely had time to talk to each other.

Orpheus nodded.

“I see. Well, I guess you could help me with some of my work. I won’t force you though.” He said.

“I’d be happy to.” You said.

Orpheus nodded.

“Alright, sit here.” He said, motioning to the chair in front of him. His arm accidentally hit one of the papers on his desk and it flew all the way underneath his bed.

“I’ll get it.” You said.

You went on all fours and crawled underneath the bed.

What you didn’t realise was that Orpheus was checking you out, smiling to himself as he saw the shape of your ass from behind. However, as a gentleman, he managed to control his urges to do anything with you.

You got back up and walked over to him, placing the paper on the desk.

“Thank you, but I think I shall resume my work later on. I have something else to take care of.” He said, getting up.

“Do you need help with that too?” You said.

Orpheus looked at you with confusion.

“So, you knew I was looking at you?” He said.

You also looked at him in confusion.

“You were?”

You knew damn well that Orpheus did look at you from behind but you were just playing along that you had no idea. You had purposely arched your back for him when you were under his bed, and it seems like it worked like a charm. Because the next few hours were spent in his bedroom, behind closed doors.

Frederick:

“Absolutely magnificent piano skills. You seem to be getting much better.” Frederick said.

“Thank you. I have been practicing a lot.” You said, getting up from the seat.

“I could tell. Anyways, would you like to take a stroll in the garden with me? You do need a break, after all.” He said.

“Sure.” You nodded.

Shortly after, you and Frederick slowly walked around the garden, taking in the fresh breeze. But all of a sudden, the wind became extremely strong. Strong enough to blow the hem of your dress upwards, exposing your thighs.

Frederick immediately pushed the dress down for you. But it didn’t mean that he didn’t catch a glimpse of what was under it.

“Maybe we should go inside now.” He said.

He immediately realised that what he said sounded extremely wrong.

“Ahem, I mean. We should enter the manor and resume our duties.” He said, slightly embarrassed.

You gave a laugh.

“Frederick, you didn’t need to correct yourself from the first time.” You said.

He immediately felt himself tense up after hearing that.

“Pardon?” He said, his eyes glistening with slight lust.

“I’m saying…you should go inside…me.” You said, your voice filled with desire.

Frederick was almost weak in the knees after hearing you say that, especially with that tone.

He gently took your hand.

“Then let’s go. I’d like to hear you make some melodious sounds.”

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 15 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

The familiar sensation of teleportation washed over you as you stepped into the sanctuary of your bedroom, nestled deep within the tranquil garden you called home. The soft hum of magic dissipated as you collapsed onto the plush sheets of your bed, your body sinking into the comfort, though your mind remained anything but at ease.

Your children—your loyal butterflies—fluttered around you, their tiny wings glowing faintly in the dim light. They hovered closer, sensing your turmoil, their small efforts to soothe you proving futile. One even landed gently on your forehead, a silent gesture of comfort, but the irritation within you refused to be quelled.

You groaned, pressing your palm to your face. How can Jinwoo be this tactless?

Your mind reeled, replaying the earlier interaction that had left you seething. For someone with such absurdly high perception stats, he was alarmingly dense when it came to anything outside of battle. The man who could detect an enemy’s movement down to the faintest twitch somehow couldn’t read the room to save his life. It was infuriating.

You let out a sigh, memories of past pages of various manhwas flooding your mind. There was always this recurring trope among protagonists—ridiculously talented in combat but utterly clueless when it came to basic human interaction. You recalled all the times in the manhwa when Jinwoo’s obliviousness had made you want to reach into the pages and shake him. Back then, it had been frustrating in an endearing way. But now? Now that you were living in this world, dealing with the flesh-and-blood Jinwoo, it was infinitely worse.

Your thoughts strayed to that infamous scene—the one where Jinwoo missed every single obvious hint that Cha Hae-In wanted to join his guild because she liked him. That moment hadn’t happened yet in this timeline, and you silently thanked the heavens for small mercies.

You rolled onto your side, one hand absently reaching out to pat Red, the oldest of your butterflies and your right-hand. Red perched on your palm, its wings pulsing faintly, “It’s all right.”

“No, Red, it’s not all right,” you muttered, your voice laced with frustration. “Out of the two of us, I’m supposed to be the recluse,” you grumbled. “For heaven’s sake!”

The irony was not lost on you. You were the one who had spent years isolated in the system’s trials, cut off from the world. Yet here you were, the one seemingly more adept at navigating social interactions than Jinwoo.

The butterfly fluttered its wings again, this time with a slight tilt as if to mock you gently. You let out a huff. Your frustration still simmered beneath the surface, refusing to fully dissipate.

You sat up abruptly, your gaze distant as you stared into the void of your room. The soft glow of the garden lights seeped in through the window, bathing the space in an ethereal glow. You let out a slow breath, trying to steady your thoughts.

There was no time to dwell on Jinwoo’s shortcomings. You had pressing matters to attend to. Better to focus on something productive than stew in your frustrations. A flick of your wrist summoned a plane ticket into your hand, the parchment shimmering briefly before solidifying.

“Just in case,” you murmured to yourself, slipping the ticket into your pocket. Though teleportation was your preferred method of travel, it wouldn’t hurt to have a mundane backup plan.

Your gaze softened as you looked around at your butterflies, each of them settling on nearby surfaces, their glowing forms creating a comforting ambiance. Red crawled closer to your shoulder, its small form vibrating faintly in silent encouragement.

Your hand rose to stroke Red’s wings absentmindedly. “I can’t save everyone,” you whispered, the words heavy with resignation. “But I’ll sure as hell try.”

---

Thomas Andre stood near the bustling entrance of Incheon International Airport, his massive frame towering over the steady flow of travelers. The hum of hurried footsteps and overhead announcements filled the air as his assistant—Laura’s insistence—handled the final details of their arrival. He shifted his weight, a slight frown pulling at his lips.

He was here on business, an important discussion with the chairman of South Korea’s Hunter Association about a certain reckless guild member of his.

Thomas Andre wasn’t a man easily surprised. As the head of the Scavenger Guild and one of the world’s most powerful Hunters, he was accustomed to the extraordinary. His sheer physical size alone intimidated most people before they could muster the courage to act unpredictably around him.

Yet here he was, caught off guard by something as mundane as a stranger bumping into him.

The collision barely registered to Thomas—hardly more than a tap against his solid frame—but the person who had stumbled into him nearly fell flat on their face. Instinctively, he reached out and caught them with one hand, gripping their gloved arm firmly to steady them. His brows furrowed as he glanced down. It was a woman—small, almost fragile-looking compared to him. She remained frozen in place for a moment, her eyes obscured by the brim of her hat, the lower half of her face covered by a black and white mask, and Thomas noted how light she felt in his grip, like a feather caught in a breeze.

“You all right there, Little Miss?” His deep voice rumbled with mild amusement.

The woman’s head snapped up at his words, her wide, panicked eyes locking onto his.

And then it hit him.

A sudden, overwhelming urge crashed into him like a tidal wave. It gripped his very core, making his knees threaten to buckle. The instinct to kneel, to bow before this stranger, clawed at his willpower. Something ancient and primal whispered in his mind, demanding submission. His veins felt like they were on fire as he fought the compulsion, his muscles straining under the pressure.

The woman quickly stepped back from his grasp, bowing her head in a hurried apology. “Thank you for catching me,” she said, tone clear and polite, her English flawless. “I’m sorry for bumping into you.”

Her voice was soft, warm, and soothing—a stark contrast to the chaotic storm raging inside him.

Before he could respond, she turned on her heel and hurried away, her pace brisk as she disappeared into the throng of travelers.

Thomas stood frozen, his chest heaving slightly as the overwhelming sensation dissipated as quickly as it had come. His hand, still trembling slightly, clenched into a fist. He turned his gaze toward the direction the woman had gone, catching a brief glance of her looking back at him. Her eyes flickered toward his fist, almost as if she could see the struggle he had just endured.

And then she was gone.

“What the hell was that?” Thomas muttered under his breath.

He replayed the moment in his mind and tried to recall the woman’s face, but his memory was hazy. The warm aura that radiated from her felt both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. It wasn’t oppressive or intimidating—it was calming, yet it carried an undeniable weight.

A healer class? It was the only explanation that made sense. Her aura had been faint, almost unnoticeable, but undeniably soothing. Perhaps she was a low-ranked Hunter, though something about her didn’t quite fit that profile.

“Mr. Andre?” His assistant’s voice broke through his thoughts, snapping him back to reality. “The car is ready.”

“Yeah,” Thomas grunted, shaking off the lingering unease. He took one last glance toward the direction she had gone before following his assistant. “Let’s go.”

But even as he walked away, the memory of those comforting yet commanding eyes lingered in his mind. He didn’t know who she was, but one thing was certain—he wasn’t going to forget that encounter anytime soon.

---

The air in the Sung family's apartment was tense. Jinah ducked beneath the window frame, peering cautiously through the blinds as the reporters gathered below. Their relentless pursuit had only grown worse, swarming the building in hopes of catching a glimpse of Korea's strongest Hunter and prying into his personal life.

"Seriously, Oppa, they're still here!" Jinah whispered harshly, ducking back to avoid being seen.

Jinwoo sighed and stood, rolling his shoulders. "I'll just shoo them off—"

Jinah whipped around, cutting him off. "No! Don’t. You’ve already gotten trashed online enough as it is."

His confusion was evident as he frowned. "Trashed? For what? I didn’t even do anything!"

Jinah groaned, exasperated. Did her brother really not understand why he was the talk of every social media platform? She was about to explain when your voice suddenly cut through the tension like a blade.

"It's because you left without paying any attention to the reporters last time, you fool," you said sharply from the doorway.

Jinah turned to see you standing there, your arms full of neatly stacked items. Her immediate reaction was relief—finally, someone who could articulate what she was feeling—but it quickly shifted to curiosity. She noticed the unusual sharpness in your tone and, to her surprise, her usually unbothered brother flinched.

"When did you get in here?" Jinah asked, confused but grateful for the interruption.

You offered her a warm smile, instantly replacing the tension with your characteristic kindness. "Hello, Jinah. It’s nice to see you again. I’m so sorry for intruding so suddenly. I just wanted to drop off these souvenirs I promised from my last trip with your Brother."

Jinah’s eyes sparkled at the mention of souvenirs, and she eagerly reached for the neatly arranged stack as you set it on the table. She began rifling through the items—a selection of high-quality medical books, some incredibly appetizing meals wrapped up beautifully, and a set of clothes that looked both stylish and perfectly tailored to her preferences.

"Did you make these clothes yourself?" Jinah asked in awe, feeling the soft yet durable fabric between her fingers.

You chuckled lightly. "I did. I thought you might like them."

Jinah leaped at you, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Unnie! You’re the best!"

Caught off guard, you stumbled slightly but quickly steadied yourself, returning her hug with a laugh. "Woah there! Careful!"

As Jinah nestled closer, she noticed something unusual. "Unnie, did you just come back from the beach?"

"Hmm?" You tilted your head, momentarily puzzled, before replying, "Oh, I was on an island in Japan for a business trip. There was an urgent international order for a particular batch of flowers I had to handle personally."

Jinah hummed in understanding, but her curiosity was quickly piqued by the expression on her brother’s face. Jinwoo, who had been watching the entire interaction in silence, now stood stiffly, his arms crossed and his brows furrowed.

"(Name)—" Jinwoo started, his voice low and uncertain.

You didn’t even let him finish. Turning only halfway to glance at him, you spoke with chilling finality, "I’m still mad at you. So shut it."

Jinah’s eyes widened, and she instinctively stepped back, letting go of you. She quickly pieced together that her brother must have done something incredibly dumb to earn your ire. She sighed internally, wondering: What now, Oppa?

"I'm here for someone else today," you said, your tone softening slightly as you looked at Jinah.

The sound of the doorbell interrupted the moment, and Jinwoo moved to answer it. Jinah watched him open the door to reveal a boy about her age, wearing a large backpack and looking pitifully disheveled.

"Who’s that, Oppa?" Jinah asked, peering around her brother.

---

Jinho stood in the doorway, his head bowed slightly in embarrassment as he glanced nervously between Jinwoo and the unfamiliar girl behind him.

‘She’s really pretty…’ he thought briefly before shaking his head. Now was not the time.

"I—uh, Hyung-nim, I’ve been kicked out," Jinho mumbled, his voice filled with genuine regret and self-pity. He shifted awkwardly, gripping the straps of his backpack. "Can I… stay here for a while?"

Jinwoo’s answer was immediate. The door slammed shut in Jinho’s face.

"Hyung-nim!" Jinho called out, panicking. But before he could knock again, your voice cut through the tension once more. Sharper. Colder.

"Jinwoo. Open. The. Door."

Even Jinho, standing outside, felt a shiver run down his spine. Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing Jinwoo standing stiffly like a child caught misbehaving. You stepped forward, your expression instantly softening as you looked at Jinho.

"Jinho," you said warmly, your voice filled with kindness, "You can stay in the spare room at my shop for a while until you get back on your feet."

Jinho’s eyes filled with gratitude, and he nearly lunged forward to hug you but stopped when he noticed the chilling shift in your demeanor. The warmth you’d shown him was gone, replaced by a saccharine-sweet smile directed at Jinwoo.

"I’ll leave now to escort Jinho," you said curtly, your gaze locking with Jinwoo’s.

You gently ushered Jinho out of the apartment, turning back only to bid Jinah a cheerful goodbye. But the cold glare you leveled at Jinwoo lingered for a moment longer, sending a clear message before you turned and left.

---

Jinwoo stared at the closed door, utterly at a loss. Your anger, though more subdued, still burned bright. He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair.

Jinah watched him from the couch, her arms crossed. "What did you do, Oppa?"

"I don’t know," Jinwoo muttered, his frustration mounting.

His thoughts drifted to the dinner he’d planned as a peace offering. But now, he wasn’t even sure you’d agree to go with him, let alone accompany him back to the Demon Castle. For the first time in a long time, Jinwoo felt completely out of his depth.

End Note:

Unfinished Draft of [15/11/2024] -

[idunnoficsorsumthing]

Dinner secrecy

Warnings: Smut therefore 18+ readers only. 

Summary: Harvey holds a dinner at his house.

You looked over to where Jessica, Louis and Harvey were talking in Jessica’s office. You mewled at the fact that they were in a meeting leaving out the younger associates out of their chit chat meetings. You were sitting in your cubicle that had the perfect view of  Jessica’s office. You quickly turn your gaze from the meeting to your computer when you see Harvey turn his chair to look back at you. You looked up again when you felt like his gaze was no longer on you. Harvey had been a little flirtatious with you from the start of your time at Pearson Hardman, it was only a matter of time before you fell for him. It didn’t take much, he was handsome, funny when he wanted to be and oh so good in bed. The two of you had been dating for a while now. It was strictly a secret, no one knew, no one was allowed to get suspicious. Something the both of you agreed on. You were Jessica’s associate, you were at her beck and call. No way she would take it well for you to be screwing one of the senior partners. You heard the voices of the partners talking as the glass door opened and the men walked out. You try to keep your eyes solely focused on your computer screen. You feel a man towering over your cubicle. “I am holding an unexpected dinner tonight for some people here at the firm.” Harvey said, you looked up. “Who?” you asked. He was leaning against the side of your cubicle. “Senior partners, their associates, and  very pretty paralegals.” he said, you would get angry at him for calling Rachel pretty if it wasn’t thar she and Mike were eye fucking each other every ten minutes. “I want you to be at my place by five” he said, you nod. “Early dinner". you huffed. “Dinner is at seven. I’m going to need an extra set of hands, sweetheart.” he said, walking off. 

You gave Jessica some weak excuse why you needed to leave earlier, and she told you to make sure you would be there at Harvey’s dinner, considering it was basically a late planned work function. You joked you would only show up if you could bill the hours and then you got a glare as you were walking out. You were unwrinkling your skirt as you made it up the last few steps till the elevator of Harvey’s building. His doorman is already familiar with you, letting you up. You contemplated bringing a bottle of wine. However, you know that whatever you would be able to afford wasn’t to Harvey’s liking anyway so you decided against that. You waited impatiently for the elevator to reach his floor. The ride up seems slower than normally. However, normally you were impatiently tapping your feet a little to get to him or you would be with Harvey himself as he had his lips against yours or peppering kisses along your neck. You finally reach his door and you open it with the spare key he gave you weeks ago. “Thank god, you are here.” He said he was wearing an apron and standing over a cutting board. You stood beside him looking over the recipe pages and seeing him cutting vegetables. “Why didn’t you hire a private chef?” you asked. He groaned. “Louis,” he huffed. You had only seen Harvey use his kitchen once when he was making soup for you after an especially wild night the two of you had and walking had seemed a bit of a struggle. “He bet me money that I could not do it without a private chef.” he said, you take the recipe cards he printed and look over the recipes. “ Smoked Salmon Crawfish and dill mousse? Pan fried duck breast with spiced orange and cranberry?” You asked, puzzling yourself over the instructions. “What? I thought you said you knew how to cook.” he said, putting down the kitchen knife, and focusing his body towards yours, he slithered his arm around your waist. “Yes, like some kind of mom, not fucking Gordon Ramsay.” You hissed. He chuckled. Pressing his lips to your jawline pecking soft kisses as to convince you why you should help him. “You’ll get extremely lucky tonight if you pull it off.” he said, you knew when it was time to push your luck when he wanted something from you, usually what he wanted from you was sex. You looked into his dark brown eyes, as he gave you the eyes he gave girls when he wanted to smooth talk them, his thumb rubbed circles over your skin as he was holding you, pressing his pelvis against your side. “I want a drawer.” You said, he raised his eyebrow. You had a spare toothbrush next to his already. But, he had yet to give you space in his big bachelor pad for you. “That’s it?” he asked. You nod. “Then we have an agreement.” he said, he sealed the deal with a kiss on your lips. “You are a terrible negotiator, sweetheart.” He said: “I would’ve given you half my closet.” he taps your ass as he walks over to the fridge. 

It was less than half an hour till everyone would show up for dinner. You were busy with the duck as you made Harvey focus on setting the table. In the fridge were enough starters that he just had to plate out, in the oven the vegetables and potatoes were baking, and the duck was almost cooked medium rare. Otherwise it would taste like shoe leather. You could feel Harvey’s big arms around your waist. “I can’t wait for dessert.” he said, you looked confused. You had made creme brulees that were now cooling on the counter, and only needed to be popped into the oven real quick right before dessert. “I didn’t know you liked creme brulee so much.” you said, as you moisten the duck with moisture from the pan. “I meant you.” he said, as he started to lightly suck on your neck. “Anybody can arrive any moment.” you mumbled. You didn’t stop his advances, instead you turned off the fire on the stove. He allowed you space to turn around. You wrap your arms around his neck. He had loosened his tie earlier, and rolled up his sleeves when he was helping you around in the kitchen. “You want to taste?” you asked, you leaned back and dipped your finger on the spoon that had been used to stir the duck. You held up the finger to his mouth as he lightly sucked off the sauce. “You’ve been holding out on me.” he teased. A smile appeared on your face. You could’ve stayed here for a while if you could but the doorbell rang, and Harvey signed before walking to the door as you switched your place to sitting at the bar, taking your wine glass in hand. 

You sat across from Harvey, you had been playing footsie with him for the past twenty minutes. Louis shoved the betting money across the table for Harvey, and now it was still sitting there in the middle. Everyone was chattering away, when Jessica sat down from going to the bathroom. “Do you have a new girlfriend, Specter?” She asked. You quickly take your foot away from his lap. You took your wine glass and took a gulp. “I don’t know what makes you think that.” He said, swirling his scotch. A lot of faces turned to Jessica and Harvey. A smile appeared on her face. “The pink bottles of shampoo and conditioner on the side of your shower.” She said: “The second toothbrush.” Harvey rolled his eyes. He usually never did. However, Jessica brought it out in him as he used to say. “They are Mike’s.” he said dead serious. “Sometimes I even let him sleep at my foot.” Mike was the only one that didn’t laugh when the laughter filled the room. “Fine. Don't tell me.” Jessica said, though she had the look on her face that said she’d figure it out. 

You left Harvey’s place around the time Rachel left together the two of you went with the subway home. You finally reach your place when you get a text. 

[Harvey] Come back

[Y/n] Are Louis and Mike still there?

[Harvey] I’ll get rid of them

[Y/n] I’ll think I will just go to sleep

[Harvey] No

[Y/n] i’m tired

[Harvey] I need to see you

[y/n] you saw me thirty minutes ago

[Harvey] Don’t make me come to Brooklyn Heights

[Y/n] I don’t live in Brooklyn Heights

[Y/n] Must’ve been your other girlfriend

[Harvey] ha ha just get your cute ass here

There was still hesitation to go back to Harvey’s considering you just spent almost half an hour getting home. It would be half an hour back as well. In downtown Brooklyn almost everything that had something to do with Pearson Hardman took a while. You pictured what would happen if you’d go to his right now. But, as you were considering the pros and cons you already started to pack a clean outfit for tomorrow morning to take with you. 

When you got back to Harvey’s apartment he was loading up his dishwasher.”Well look at you cleaning, and cooking.” you said, as you threw your weekend bag to the ground. “I knew you’d come back.” he said, you signed. You sit down at the barstool at his kitchen counter. “You look hot doing manual labor, you know.” you said, he chuckled. “This is hardly manual labor.” he said, you shrugged. “For you it seems it is.” you teased. He gave you the glare that said he was going to make you pay for that comment later. 

He had been making you pay for that comment earlier, with your hands tied up to the bedpost with one of his expensive ties. He had made you cum at least two times already ordering you to orgasm on his fingers. He was motioning his hips in and out of you as you pulled at the tie rope, wanting him to continue to fuck you even if everything felt overly sensitive and borderline painful as you kept moaning his name. “I told you that you’d get lucky tonight.” He said, slowing his pace a little to allow you to catch your breath. You were a mumbling mess just a string of incoherent words flowed from yours lips. Once Harvey mentioned he might love you most like this. He teased you by taking your breast into his hand, allowing his tongue to create circles over your nipple causing you to gasp. You couldn’t keep your eyes open as the pleasure kept building within. “Eyes on me, sweetheart” he said, taking your chin in one hand making you open your eyes, and look at him as he picked up a harder pace. All you wanted to do was touch his skin, and have something to hold on when it got too much. You pushed yourself to him, and kissed his lips, intensifying the experience. You begged him to make you cum, and the hand went from your chin to your clit as he motioned a pattern. You cried out his name as you felt pleasure come over you. He continued to chase his own high, as he hid his face in your neck, until he stiffened in his own pleasure. It took the two of you a moment to catch your breath, he got up and put on his underwear. He took his phone from his nightstand, you look at him wondering if he forgot. “Hey, can you untie me?” you asked him. He looked at you letting his eyes gaze top to bottom. “No, you look sexy like this.” he said, in return he got a glare coming from you. He decided to untie you, he looked you deep in the eye. “There is space in the closet for you.” He said: “next time, bargain your worth.” he pecked a kiss on your lips.

[storm-angel989]

How would Valentine and the other vees react to his daughter attempting to take her own life? Sorry if its too dark u don't have to answer the request.

It’s never too dark of a request. I hope by writing this fic someone, somewhere who might be struggling sees that their life has irreplaceable value.  I’ve been in that headspace, held that belief that the world would be better off without me. It’s a dark space, but I can promise you it gets better- I can’t say it enough. 

It gets better.

For anyone who is going through this- I’ve been there. I promise you, it gets better. <3 My DM’s are open for anyone who ever needs to chat. 

Even if it feels like no one else in the world cares, I PROMISE I do. 

<3 Mandy

Valentino treated overdoses like it was his job. 

In a way, it was. You don’t gain the titles he had without learning a thing or two along the way. When you deal with drugs, afterall, you deal with the unfortunate side effects that came along with them. It was simply good business to have the basic medical skills, enough to keep the user alive long enough to get them to someone who can bring them back the rest of the way. 

After all, dead addicts don’t pay. 

Another late night. There seemed to be quite a few of them lately, not that Valentino minded. Surrounded by his models, beautiful demons who brought out every aspect of the word lust. The music in the club hit perfectly, and his salesdemons were making bank tonight. At that moment, it felt like nothing in the world could go wrong. 

The shrill shriek of his phone interrupted his blissful buzz. Glancing at the caller ID he did a double take.

“Vox? I’m at work. This better be an emergency.” He answered sharply. “You know I don’t like to be…” 

“Valentino, you need to come home. Now.” Vox’s sharp voice interrupted him. “It’s Reader. Something’s wrong.”

Valentino was on his feet and out the door without a second thought. Shoving demons aside, he jumped in the limo. The ride home took less than two minutes, but it felt like an eternity. 

He shoved open the door to her bedroom, and the sight that greeted him felt like he had been punched in the gut. His daughter laid on her side, a blanket draped over her shaking body. 

“What happened? Is she sick?” Valentino demanded as he knelt down next to her. “Why didn’t you bring her downstairs?”

“Val, I just found her. She’s awake, she’s breathing, she has a pulse, she’s just..silent,” Vox replied. “And look…” 

Vox held up her arm and Valentino visibly winced at the sight. Cuts covered her wrist, up as far as he could see. From just below the vein, bright red blood dripped. Silently, Velvette handed him an empty bottle. He looked down at his daughter and gritted his teeth. 

“Bebita, what did you do?” He muttered as he glanced at the label. “You found this empty, Vel?”

“Yeah.”

Valentino cursed. No wonder she was still awake, but she wouldn’t be for long. “Vox, page downstairs and tell them to have the on-call doctor and have him meet us there. Both of you, with me, now.”

He carefully lifted up his daughter and, without waiting for the elevator, hurried her down the stairs, Vox and Velvette behind him. He looked down at her as dark blue foam began to drip from the corners of her mouth. In his arms, she curled and heaved into him. Valentino glanced down as warm blue liquid stained his jacket. 

Fuck. 

“Get up,” Valentino barked at the on duty nurse. He rattled off a list of things he would need as he laid his daughter on her side. From the cupboards, he tossed supplies on the counter. 

“Put an ng tube in,” he growled to the nurse as he handed her a bottle of dark black liquid. “Get this entire bottle down her throat and then take it out. Vox, where the fuck is the doctor?” 

Without waiting for an answer, Valentino stepped back and continued to yank open the cupboards, frantically searching until he found the right combination to counteract the pills she took. Without another thought, he slid the needle into her vein with a practiced hand. 

“Come on, mi amore, don’t you dare,” he growled as his daughter closed her eyes. “Don’t you fucking dare.” He pressed his hand against her chest, desperate to feel the beating of her heart. 

A faint thud beneath his palm. A whimper of pain.

The doctor walked in seconds later and with orders from Valentino, whisked her away to the back. Fury raced over Valentino’s expression and he turned to Vox and Velvette.

“What the fuck happened to my daughter?”

Velvette looked up from her phone and quietly handed it to Valentino. “ I don’t know how else to say it, but…Val, she made a post and…well, it looks like she tried to commit suicide.”

Valentino felt himself pale as he stared down at the screen. “No, she wouldn’t. My little girl? Why would…”

“I don’t know, Val,” Vox said sharply. “But I do know we fucking missed a hell of a lot of signs based on the amount of damage she did to her body already.” 

Valentino sank onto one of the empty beds and stared across the room. His little girl was in so much fucking pain she felt the world better off without her in it? His little girl hurt so badly, she needed to hurt herself? He buried his face in his hands. Had he gotten to her in time? Would she even survive this attempt? Why the fuck hadn’t he seen the signs? 

He felt a hand on his shoulder and weight shift on either side of him. He tried to hold back the tears of sadness, of guilt. The tears that came with the adrenaline rush he didn’t normally feel. 

“Val, we’ll get her through this,” Vox said softly. “I think we found her in time.”

Valentino tried to swallow back his sadness, but his voice still shook as he spoke. 

“What..what cued you in? What made you check on her?”

“Her blood pressure tanked, and I got the alert on my phone. As soon as I saw her, I called you. Couldn’t have been more than…”

“It takes seven minutes for her vital signs to be affected,” Valentino said bitterly. “Blue foam on the mouth and vomiting occur at fifteen. Her heart stops at twenty five. She’s lucky you found her when you did. Lucky I had the drugs I needed on hand, lucky that I knew what to fucking do otherwise…just a few more minutes…she still might not…”

“No, she will. And she will get through this. We will get her the help she needs, Val. Whatever she needs.” Velvette said sharply.

“You wouldn’t walk on a broken leg, depression, anxiety, mental illnesses, they’re no different. They need to be treated, just like any other disease,” Vox added. “We know this, Val. We’ll get her the treatment she needs to fight this.” 

“Mr. Valentino?” the doctor's voice broke through their conversation. 

Valentino stood up. Vox and Velvette joined him.

“She’s in recovery. We pumped her stomach and are running a few tests, but thanks to your quick actions,  it looks like she’ll be just fine. I don’t think she’ll suffer any long term effects,” the doctor told them. “She’s awake. You can go in and see her. I would like to suggest an adolescent psychiatrist…”

“Yes, absolutely. Get her over here as soon as possible. Whatever my daughter needs,” Valentino said quickly as he made his way down the hall. 

The sight of his daughter laying in her hospital bed made him stop in his tracks. He swallowed back the fear and sadness that crept up his throat. She looked too small to be lying there, too frail to be anywhere but safe in her own bed. Her arms wrapped up tightly in white bandages, the monitors that showed her heart rate on a screen. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to lift her up and sprint her back to the safety of their home, keep her in the safety of his arms. 

But he knew, somewhere deep inside, that that wasn’t what was best for her. 

“Daddy? Are you mad at me?” 

Her soft voice broke through the quietness of the hospital room. 

“No, babygirl, no,” he replied quickly as he made his way across the room. He sat down next to her and smoothed back her hair. “I’m just…I’m glad you’re okay.”

She stared at him with exhausted eyes. “I ruined your good jacket,” she said after a few moments of silence. “I’m sorry…I’ll…”

“Fuck the jacket,” he replied quickly as he pulled off the vomit stained cloak. He tossed it into the corner of the room. “Bebita, I can replace that. There is only one of you, and you my love…oh honey…why didn’t you come tell me what was going on?”

She shrugged and looked down. He took a deep breath and in one swift movement, laid down next to her and pulled her body against his. 

“We can figure that out later,” he said quietly as he held her. “Not now. Right now, Daddy is here.” 

“Are you…are you going to send me away?” she whispered. 

Valentino swallowed. “Send you away? No. Never. You’re my little girl.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “If you need the extra support, an inpatient stay, we’ll give it to you. But I would never, ever send you awake. We’ll do whatever it is we need to do to get you better. Life doesn’t need to be this hard, mi amore. It gets better. I promise.” 

“I’m not crazy,” she sniffled. “Daddy, please..” “No one said you were,” he said soothingly. “My ninita.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I promise you, it gets better. And Daddy and Uncle Vox and Auntie Vel? We love you more than all the rings of hell. We’ll be by your side to support you- no matter what.” He held her ever so slightly tighter, “I love you, reader. We will get through this. I promise.”

[kupidachillea]

Achilles x You x Patroclus hcs

Author note: This is sorta self indulgent, please be nice in the comments. I understand this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but just be nice about it and have an open mind.💕

TW: None, this is mainly fluff. Besides the mentions of wounds and training (fighting)

-🌿 When you first meet them, it’s not really what you expected. You had moved to Greece and were staying with Chiron until he suggested that you could stay with his former students. And you agreed.

-🏺 You found yourself in their home as their new housemate. How odd, but you brushed it off as something akin to a roommate and you hoped you could get along with the two former warriors.

-🌿 At first Achilles was skeptical of you, not entirely on board with the idea of living with someone other than his companion..but Patroclus managed to get him to calm down enough to accept you as a new friend into their space.

-🏺And for the most part, things were good between the 3 of you. You mainly tried not to be a bother but also tried to engage with them every once in awhile. As well as doing basic house chores.

-🌿 Besides that you’d watch the boys train together and occasionally patch them up from their little fights. It was more so harder to get Achilles to accept treatment but he’d always give in..mumbling that your touch was “So soft..” every time you’d clean up his injuries.

-🏺Patroclus was actually quite thrilled that he wouldn’t always have to be tending to his own wounds after training (or deal with Achilles’ scrappy bandage work). It meant he could relax while you asked about how training went and how he’d respond. The boys seemed to grow to enjoy your company each week.

-🌿Not that you noticed it at first, but they’d start to do little things for you. Before they’d never really make breakfast for you but now you’d come downstairs to your breakfast already made for you and a sweet note from Patroclus to your surprise.

-🏺 Even when you stay up late nights, Achilles will walk by your room or wherever you are and frown when he sees that you’re still up. You’d give him some excuse but he didn’t care..he’d pick you up despite your protest and place you in bed.

-🌿 If you still didn’t want to sleep he’d call Patroclus and they’d both stay in your room with you until your fall asleep, ultimately causing them to fall asleep with you in the bed in a sweet cuddle pile.

-🏺At first Achilles would never want to admit that he was starting to have feelings for you, because he didn’t think it’d be possible since it’s been years..but as soon as Patroclus pipes up saying he’s developed feelings for you too- he ultimately admits it with a defeated sigh. At least he knows they’re both on the same page.

-🌿 Of course they’re both conflicted at first, but then they decide to own up to it- I mean- if they can handle the war they can handle courting…right?….right?

-🏺It’s a bit of a task but they start getting more touchy with you, sleeping on your lap or resting against your back with their weight. This obviously confuses you- and if you’re easily flustered they’ll lightly tease you for it. Achilles with his smirk and Patroclus with a sweet yet knowing grin.

-🌿 They’ve taken it upon themselves to start giving you nicknames: like “Dear”, “Darling”, “Love”, or in Achilles’ case; “Doll” or “Dollface”. At times you’ll call them nicknames too like “Achi” or “Patro”..but nothing like what they say since you’re not sure if they’d appreciate, but deep down they’re aching for you to call them a silly lovey nickname.

-🏺 At some point though over the course of the months you’ve been living with them, Achilles gets impatient and sick of you not getting their hints and they both end up confronting you just as you were about to settle down and do you own thing-

-🌿 Achilles was about ti accuse you of playing around with them until Patroclus chimed in, cutting off the words of his companion and speaking for them both. Basically confessing that they have liked you for some time now…He would look at you with a pleading gaze in his beautiful green eyes..patiently waiting for a response from you while Achilles scanned your shocked expression.

-🏺You being you, you were trying to play it safe..but seeing how serious they were about being a “Throuple” with you was not something you expected, but you eventually decided to give them a chance when you saw even the proud Achilles look at you in almost a pleading manner.

-🌿 They were over the moon- Achilles wasting no time in pulling you in for a heated kiss, his lips colliding with your and making you blink in surprise before kissing him back..When he pulled away he was grinning like an idiot.

-🏺Patroclus was more gentle, asking his he could kiss you before pulling you into his arms and being a little more passionate about it. Though he did bite your bottom lip teasingly.

-🌿 You were pleasantly surprised to say the least and soon enough they both ushered you to the sofa to cuddle and watch some movies. Achilles laying so that you were laying in his chest and Patroclus snuggling between your legs, his face resting on your chest too while you blushed and thought about how this relationship would progress.

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"obstinate, headstrong girl" part 2 - aaron hotchner x fem!reader

read part 1 here

wc: 3000

cw: mentions of food and alcohol! enemies to lovers! poorly researched medical information lmao i am a liberal arts girly i just need it for the plot. typical bau meddling, reader is lowkey a bully but dw bc hotch is still a little bitch, part 3 to come c: 

a/n big fat thank you to my bestie @cerisereids for all her help workshopping / brainstorming with me! i also got the BEAUTIFUL dividers from the immensely talented @saradika-graphics

You. 

With your red dress and your attitude, throwing back amaretto sours like they’re tequila shots - who gets drunk on amaretto sours? They’re basically safe to drink while pregnant. To be fair, you didn’t get sloppy, or even really that drunk. By the end of the night, your eyes appeared just a bit heavy, like someone had tied miniature weights to your eyelashes. 

Your eyelashes. Aaron had never found eyelashes, of all things, to be attractive, but here he is, in the middle of a work day with a report half-finished (and half-assed, at that), and he’s thinking about your eyelashes. 

He’s thought of basically every part of you already today. Your knees, your dress, what’s underneath it. You have been sucking him into a black hole all day long, and he’s to the point where he’s halfway wishing for a serial killer so he can focus on something else. 

He plows his hand through his dark hair, shaking off the overwhelming thoughts of you. He checks the silver Rolex on his wrist. It’s nearly time to leave. Aaron doesn’t usually do this, but he decides to leave this report for tomorrow, when he can look at the letters on the page and not see your face, hear your voice. 

Just as he starts packing up, there’s a knock on his open office door. Aaron’s dark eyes flicker up to see Garcia standing in the doorway, Morgan’s tall frame looming behind her. “Hotch, you got anything going on tonight?” 

Aaron shakes his head. For once, he actually doesn’t. “Jack’s at a sleepover,” he says. “What’s up?” 

“We’re taking Spence and Jacqueline to this nighttime vendor market thingy,” Penelope says, scrunching her nose up with a smile. “You remember Jacqueline?” 

It’s been a week since Derek’s birthday, when Jacqueline and Spencer were introduced. More relevantly, since Aaron laid eyes on you. “I remember.” 

“You wanna come with us?” Penelope asks with bright eyes. Aaron opens his mouth the decline almost immediately, but Penelope beats him to it. “Y/N’s not coming.” 

Aaron arches a brow. “What makes you think I care if Y/N’s coming or not?” he asks. 

“Oh, c’mon, Hotch,” Derek puts all his weight on the doorjamb. “We saw you staring at her at my birthday. It’s about time you moved on from Haley, any-”

“If I say I’ll come out, will you stop talking?” Aaron cuts him off, grabbing his briefcase. 

Derek ponders this for a second, even looks to Penelope as if to ask permission. He shrugs his shoulders in what Aaron suspects will be the first little white lie of the evening. “Yeah.” 

How anyone was able to sprain their ankle while shopping for books is beyond you. Leave it to Jacqueline, the wide-eyed, quirkily clumsy ingénue of her very own romantic comedy, to trip over a curb while gazing starry-eyed at the oh-so dreamy Dr. Reid. She called you from the emergency room with a shrill panic lining her voice, and you immediately leapt up from the couch. You didn’t even bother pausing your show on the TV, just slid some shoes on, grabbed your bag, and bolted out the door. 

You’re taking extra long strides, your flip-flops smacking obnoxiously against the linoleum tiles of the hospital floor. When you spot Jacqueline sitting up in the bed, still in her own clothes, you feel instant relief. At least she’s not panicking anymore. Spencer sits diligently by her side, fidgeting with the edges of the sheets. Jacqueline’s right leg is elevated atop several pillows, with a meek smile on her face once her eyes meet yours. 

“Spencer, you’re supposed to keep an eye on her at all times,” you joke with a weak laugh, sighing as you plop down in the empty chair beside Spencer’s. 

“She saw something shiny and wandered off,” Spencer shrugs, and Jacqueline glares at the both of you. 

“This whole talking about me like I’m not here, thing? Not my favorite,” she deadpans. There’s the Jacqueline you know and love. In crowded social settings, she can be reclusive and difficult to open up. But with only a few people around - especially people she’s comfortable around - Jacqueline is a completely different person. 

You’re glad she feels comfortable around Spencer after just a week of knowing him. They’re not even officially dating, per se, but tonight they went out with Penelope and Derek to test the waters. You think it’s cute - like two fifth-graders on a chaperoned outing to the movies, with their parents sitting a row behind them. 

You were invited to tag along, but you didn’t want to be the fifth wheel. You also were having a really long, insufferable week, and you simply needed some recharge time. So you politely declined. 

“Oh, shush, you’ve got bigger fish to fry,” you tell Jacqueline playfully, eyes darting down to her elevated foot. “So, what’s the damage?” 

“Sprained ankle, possibly fractured,” Spencer rattles off. “Usually an x-ray isn’t required, but since Jacqueline’s having pain in her malleolar zone - that is, the top part of the ankle that connects to the tibia - the doctor ordered one. We’re waiting on the results to come back, but I think they’ll just put her in a brace for a few weeks. Statistically speaking, only about 15% of sprained ankles result in significant bone fractures.” 

You release an awkward little chuckle, very nearly overwhelmed by the amount of information Spencer just dumped on you. Jacqueline shrugs her shoulders a little, like this is just how he is, and I love it. 

You blink a few times as you absorb all of Spencer’s ramblings. “So.. she’s gonna be fine?” 

“Yeah, she’ll be fine,” Spencer cracks a smile, and his thumb brushes affectionately over the top of Jacqueline’s hand. Your friend blushes furiously, ever-so-clearly under the fluorescent lighting. 

“So what exactly happened?” You ask. 

Before either of them get to answer, imposing footsteps grow louder, and you hear a familiar voice say, “Okay, coffee acquired.”

Smooth like the neat whiskey he was throwing back the night you met him, Aaron’s voice drags down your spine. Your belly does acrobatic flips. You visibly tense up for a second before turning around to see Aaron with a cardboard drink carrier in his hand containing three to-go cups of coffee. 

“Oh, hi, Y/N. When did you get here?” Aaron’s voice goes flat, and he meets your eyes civilly. 

“While you were getting coffee, I presume,” you deadpan, and you swear you see one of those imposing brown eyes twitch. 

“Right,” Aaron hands Jacqueline her coffee, and then has to lean over you so he can give Spencer his. You catch whiffs of pine and espresso and dark leather. His chest is basically in your face for a solid three seconds. God, he’s broad. He’s also in a suit, save for the jacket and tie, and your eyes catch the crinkly lines in his white dress shirt, no longer crisp from being worn all day. They look like rivers on a map. “Well, I guess I’ll be going. Glad you’re okay, Jacqueline, that was quite the fall.” 

“Oh, no, Aaron, you don’t have to go!” Jacqueline pipes up, holding her coffee with two hands. “I mean, only if you need to, but, we’re still waiting for my X-ray to come back, and I know I’d love the company.” 

You look at Jacqueline with a bewildered expression. “I mean, I’d love the company of all of you,” Jacqueline corrects, her cheeks pinkening. 

You cross your ankles, suddenly aware that you’re in your loungewear - beige linen shorts and a blue Georgetown sweatshirt - and your hair sits in a haphazard knot on top of your head. You have to remind yourself that you don’t care. That Aaron Hotchner’s opinion of you does not matter. 

Aaron seems momentarily frozen in place, standing at the foot of Jacqueline’s bed. His eyes dart to you as if to silently ask permission to stay, and you give a subtle, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it shrug and tilt of your head. He inhales and you see his nostrils flare. He clears his throat and says, “Let me find a chair, then.” 

There’s something humorous about a man as tall and imposing and draconian as Aaron Hotchner looking for a chair in the emergency room bay of a hospital. Shoulders hunched so he doesn’t inconvenience anyone. You hope he feels embarrassed and humbled by the experience. A muted smirk rests upon your lips as you watch him most unhelpfully, not even bothering to move from your seat. 

Eventually he finds a free chair in the corner and drags it to the other side of Jacqueline’s bed, keeping a respectful distance. He looks across the bed at Spencer, who sits beside you. “Did you tell her that Garcia basically pushed Jacqueline over the curb?” 

Fluorescent lighting had never been so flattering before. Under its clarifying spotlight, Aaron gets to see details of you he’d missed at the bar where you first met. The texture of your skin, an extra little sliver of thigh from those linen shorts he wasn’t privy to before. 

And when he leaned over you to give Reid his coffee? He caught your intoxicating scent and now he fears it will either be stuck in his nostrils forever, or it will fade too quickly, before he can commit it to memory. 

“Penelope did what?” You’re asking, looking at Reid, then Jacqueline, brows creasing in the middle. 

Aaron folds his left leg atop his right, then nods with an amused smile. It’s clear you still don’t like him - might even hate him for how cold he was to you at the bar the other night. He can tell by the way you refuse to look at him unless absolutely necessary, how your jaw visibly tenses every time he addresses you directly. 

“I have no solid proof,” Aaron begins, offering the information as an olive branch. Your eyes snap to his and he’s jarred for a second, then he continues, the corners of his lips ticking up into an amused smile. “But one second, I see Garcia and Morgan at least three feet behind where Jacqueline’s walking, and the next thing I know, she’s on the ground and Garcia’s apologizing profusely.” 

“Why isn’t she here?” You laugh softly, and Aaron’s chest thrums. He can’t diagnose his reaction to it, but your laugh, no matter how strained and merely polite it might be at this moment, could be the thing that kills him. 

“Something about feeding JJ and Emily’s cat while they’re on vacation,” Jacqueline chimes in. Aaron clocks the younger woman’s eyes and how glued they are on Reid. She’s been so closed off every time Aaron’s around, so this tidbit of information coming from her surprises him. Aaron’s wondered this whole time if she truly likes Reid or if she’s just being kind. 

You nod in understanding and lean back in your chair. Little wisps of your hair fall into your eyes and you brush them back delicately with your index finger. 

Jacqueline pipes up again, her voice still timid and maybe a little tired. “Would you mind maybe getting me a snack?” She asks you. 

Aaron watches the softening of your expression as you look at Jacqueline fondly. You would do anything for her, and he can tell. “Of course,” you squeeze Jacqueline’s uninjured leg as you rise from your seat. 

“And maybe Aaron can go with you? Since Spence is pretty hungry, too, right, Spence?” Jacqueline proposes. 

Your soft expression twists into one of slight irritance. 

Aaron knows exactly what Jacqueline is up to, but it takes Reid a lingering moment to catch on. “What - oh, yeah, I’m starving,” the good doctor adds, even going to far as to pat his stomach, as if to say it’s hollow in there. 

Your eyes shrink in annoyance, and you seem to plaster a sickly sweet smile onto your lips, one that would make demons shake in their boots. You lock eyes with Aaron, as if to say, well? What’s it gonna be? 

Aaron asks Jacqueline and Reid what they want, then leads the way out of the ER and towards the cafeteria. The hospital’s signage is fairly easy to follow, and Aaron slows his usually long strides so you don’t have to struggle to keep up.

He gestures to your Georgetown sweatshirt. “You graduated from Georgetown?” He asks. 

“No, I just like to wear merchandise for schools I didn’t attend,” you deadpan, and there’s that goddamn attitude again. 

Aaron considers laying it all out - right here, right now. You’re not even thirty yet, from what Garcia’s told him. He shouldn’t be attracted to you, but he is, and god, is it killing him. Instead, he just furrows his brows and doesn’t say anything. 

“Yeah,” you soften a little, shoving your hands in the pockets of the sweatshirt. You seem to be cutting Aaron a little bit of slack, for whatever reason. “Yeah, I went to Georgetown.” 

Aaron holds the door open for you when you reach the cafeteria. You feel a little bad for your snarky comment in the hallway. You were not raised to be outwardly rude. You were raised to hoard your resentment like a precious flower, nursing it so it grows big and strong. 

“Jacqueline made it really sound like an emergency, huh?” Aaron asks, following you to the line. You shoot him a quizzical brow, and he gestures to your ensemble. 

“Oh, excuse me for not wearing an Armani suit to the hospital,” you roll your eyes, but they linger on the wrinkles in his dress shirt. “You just went out right after work, then? In your fancy suit?” 

Aaron smooths his fingertips over the white cotton. The color reminds you of freshly cleaned bedsheets. “Yeah, and it’s not Armani, for your information.” 

“Sorry, Mr. FBI. What is it, then, Dolce & Gabbana? Ralph Lauren?” 

“Tom Ford.” 

“Like that’s any less pretentious,” you scoff. 

“Hey, I can spend my money however I choose,” Aaron says, and you know he’s right. That doesn’t mean you’re not going to give him shit for it. 

“Must be nice to just burn cash,” you say dryly. “I’m sure your wife loves that.” 

“I don’t have a wife.” You look at him over your shoulder and his eye twitches a little when he says this. 

You’re not sure why you mention a wife anyway. Maybe you’re merely curious, but then again, you’ve already clocked that he’s not wearing a wedding ring. “Girlfriend, then,” you correct. “Do men your age call them girlfriends, or do you prefer the term mistress?” 

“Men my age?” Aaron laughs bitterly. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he says. His voice is stringent, right on the line of annoyance. You smirk to yourself and grab a tray so you can carry the food. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t call her my mistress, because I don’t have a wife to cheat on with her.” 

“Bachelors in the 1800s called their girlfriends mistresses,” you point out, though your facts are coming from Bridgerton, so you’re not sure if they’re entirely accurate. “I don’t know how old-fashioned you are.” 

“I’m not,” Aaron says simply as you load an individual-size veggie pizza on your tray for Jacqueline, then grab a bag of chips and a soda for yourself. Aaron grabs the sandwich Spencer requested, and you lead the way to the checkout. 

The cafeteria worker punches in your items, and then Aaron’s. “Oh, we’re not together,” you correct politely. 

“It’s fine,” Aaron insists, pulling a silver AmEx out of his wallet. You reach for your own wallet to try and beat him, but he’s already swiped by the time you even get it out. 

You thank the cafeteria worker before gathering everything in your hands. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say as you and Aaron head out of the cafeteria. He holds the door open for you, again. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Aaron says as you walk through the open door. “Chivalry is still alive, as far as I’m concerned.” 

“Not old-fashioned, huh?” You smirk as you look up at him, feeling your cheeks redden a bit. Wait, when did this become playful jesting rather than straight-up bullying? 

“Maybe a little old-fashioned.” Aaron’s lips hint at a smile, and you feel your mouth go dry. 

“Shocking that you’re still on the market,” you say, admittedly because you’re curious about what Penelope said the other night at the bar. Something about Aaron going through a hard time. 

“My job requires a lot of my time,” Aaron explains. Your footsteps slow a little and he matches your pace. “Even if I found someone worth all the trouble, I don’t think I’d have the time to dedicate to a relationship.” 

“Worth all the trouble?” You repeat, a scoff lining your voice like a thousand tiny needles. Aaron resists the urge to visibly wince at your reaction. 

Why you’re prompting all this relationship discussion is beyond him. He’s a profiler, for Christ’s sake, but he can’t pin you down, for some reason. He lays the brickwork down and builds his walls up again. For a moment, back in the cafeteria, he was starting to let you in. 

But, no, it doesn’t matter how god-forsakenly adorable you are when you scrunch your nose or call him out on his bullshit. Aaron’s not ready for this kind of thing yet, so iciness is necessary. It protects him, it protects Jack, but - and, maybe most importantly - it protects you. 

You’re young and you’re willful. You’re a goddamn hurricane, a force to be reckoned with, but your stubbornness is a house of cards. Aaron Hotchner knows that if he hurts you, the cards will fall. And he could never forgive himself for something like that. 

So when you look at him for some kind of explanation, throwing him an arched brow and the opportunity to explain himself, he doesn’t take it. Instead, he watches as you pick up your pace and walk ahead of him, leaving a hell of a view and a frustrated, fully-grown man in your wake.

[starryytales]

More Manipulative Ragatha.

ACK-

This was meant to be ~500 words and one part of a short story that went into detail of Ragatha doing different things on different days to push Pomni's boundaries, get her closer, etc. And was inspired by yesterday's ask about Ragatha intentionally throwing herself into harm's way to get hurt and get Pomni's attention.

Instead it ballooned up into a little over 2000 words and will be something of a standalone.

I would like to give my thanks and dedicate this to @miguxadraws whose enthusiasm helped push me to hit the ground running with this one!

With that said: small TW for needles (the sewing kind), and I hope you all enjoy..!

“I’m never sure how to start these things…”

I muse to myself as I tap the colorful pencil’s eraser against the empty, waiting page of my journal. Being the second longest lasting person in The Digital Circus changes how you think about information. Unlike Kinger, for example, I’m doing my best to not go insane by holding on to every piece of information until my mind snaps and I become amnesic. That means writing things down. Journal writing and compartmentalizing things. Separating the bad from the good and keeping the good close and the bad locked away.

“I suppose starting with this morning wouldn’t be a bad idea.” I flip the pencil around and begin jotting down what all happened…

Pomni woke up on me today. I didn’t bother with sleeping. Instead I just enjoyed watching her quietly snore throughout the night. God, she’s so cute when she’s asleep. She’s even more cute when she’s startled. She woke up, adorably mumbling about whatever dream she was having (I heard my name!!!), and stared up at me for a few moments. I didn’t say anything because she was clearly still out of it and wouldn’t have understood me anyway. When she realized she was using me as a full body pillow she let out wildest little yipe I’ve ever heard. She nearly hit the ceiling from jumping off of me so hard! It took a hot moment and a re-heated, leftover salmon cake to calm her down after that. I let her get dressed in peace (thank you again, God, for giving me a button eye to stealth watch with) and she left with a sweet little smile on her face.

I pause writing for a moment when I hear someone trying to stay quiet while working on something outside my door. Probably Jax. Probably with a bucket of insects and some kind of mechanical trap setup. I shake my head irritably but stay quiet. Jax would have been a lovely boy toy to keep if not for the fact he can’t stop being a punk for more than ten seconds. My single regret with him is that he only had one heart to break. The sound of his trap construction jolts me back to writing by jogging my memory.

The adventure!

How could I have nearly forgotten that when it was a huge amount of progress with Pomni?

Caine rounded us all up just like he does basically every other day.

“HELLO MY MUTANT MASHED POTATOES TODAY’S ADVENTURE BLAH BLAH BLAH-”

It was some kind of movie-like, ancient temple we had to find the treasure room of. The important part was Pomni and I took the ‘medium’ difficulty route, and we did it by ourselves. I was just about to see how well she dealt with an unprompted hand on her shoulder when I realized I had seen the hallway we were in before on a different adventure. Caine doesn’t just re-use NPCs, he re-uses chunks of levels sometimes. And I knew we were about 15 steps away from a circular saw trap that would shoot out from the wall and try to leave us with a nasty cut, to put it lightly.

My first instinct was to let Pomni walk into it. I thought it’d probably go right through her leg, maybe even both of them. I’d have to carry her all the way to the end and she’d have no choice BUT let me hold her. My better judgment got a hold of me, though. That was an awful plan. She’d hate being useless and dependent on me (at the moment, anyway). But I could still use the trap to my advantage to make her touch me…

I suddenly remembered why I nearly forgot the whole thing. Ever feel so much pain your body and brain try to factory reset?

“Hey, I think I’ve seen this hallway before.” I told her as I switched the side of her I was walking on. I picked up my pace slightly to make sure I triggered the saw without catching her as collateral. I braced myself as hard as I could without letting on something was up. A small part of me was begging to just not do this, but the opportunity was too good to pass up.

“Really?”

“Yeah! From a different adventure!”

And I think she was going to ask if I remembered anything helpful about it. That’s about when a single stone beneath my foot pressed down and I let out probably the longest running censor-bleep in Digital Circus history. The saw was as quick as lightning. My left arm, right above my elbow, was effortlessly sliced off, and the blade tore through my side like I was made of paper. I screamed and fell away from the blade. I landed against the wall opposite of it and started sliding down to the floor. Good God it hurt so bad I was seeing stars. Pomni shrieked and rushed over to me, hovering over me like she’d found a murdered body in an alleyway. I was in too much pain to get her to stop screaming for a moment so I could tell her what to do, and then she said that she would go get help.

That lit quite the fire under me, because:

1. I needed to get her used to touching me by getting her to patch me up, and, perhaps more importantly-

2. I’M TIRED OF HER RUNNING OFF WHEN I AM IN INCREDIBLE PAIN.

I have to say, despite the pain I was in, I was pretty slick with my next words.

Any person scared and hurt might say ‘don’t leave me,’ but if I left it at that, she might have just offered me a platitude about being back as soon as she could be. I had to twist the knife. She managed a single step away before I lunged at her foot and seized her ankle. I didn’t need to pretend to cry, as there were plenty of real, agonized tears.

“Please don’t leave me again!”

The ‘again’ sold it like beer at a college ball game. Oh, it hurt to see so much remorse in her eyes but it’ll make her think twice before running off again in the future. She dropped to her knees next to me and sputtered a dozen apologies before going quiet when I placed my hand on her upper leg to get her attention.

I remember gritting my teeth and having to hiss through the pain to direct her to my dress pocket (conveniently on the same side I was missing an arm on, and oh my how those little hands wander in a pocket) where I had my emergency sewing kit. Ugh. I could have died from cute-overload while watching her fumble so shakily while trying to thread that needle. When she finally managed it she looked at me with huge, worried eyes for guidance on what to do next.

I pause again to enjoy the memory of her looking at me that way. It’s almost dreamy to picture her like that. So nervously hanging off my every word… I could REALLY get used to that. Where was I? Oh, right, my little jester doing doll surgery on my side.

Feeling her touching me gently was so, so nice. And she listens so well. I bet if I told her that the stitching would only hold if she barked like a puppy, she might have actually done it. I’m so used to sewing myself up that the little pricks of the needle barely registered to me, so I up-sold the pain they caused. Clenching my teeth and (remaining) fist, and scrunching my eyes while hiccuping every few seconds as if I were holding back a breakdown. She paused once and held my cheek, and told me if I needed a break she would stop. AGH. I could have eaten her alive on the spot for being so sweet! Instead I sighed, enjoyed the touch, and thanked her but said I was okay...

I love Pomni to bits but she sews like a blind grandmother with arthritis. No cut like that is ever good or easy to work with, but even Gangle manages a cleaner stitch on a bad day. Still, that meant we got to spend the rest of the adventure like that. Her pressed up against my side, trying her best to hold as steady as possible, while keeping my stuffing from falling out as she stitches me back shut. Definitely worth every ounce of pain. When she was done she even crawled over to my arm and offered to try putting it back on. Absolutely precious.

I told her not to worry about the arm. Caine could fix it when we get back, and about when I said that our AI Overlord’s voice rang clear throughout the structure. Caine congratulated Gangle and Kinger for reaching the treasure room first, and declared the adventure over. Pomni and I fell through a portal that suddenly opened beneath us, and just like that we were back in the tent.

Caine looked me over and quipped I had gotten “too adventurous for my own good,” before snapping his fingers and fixing my arm. He then said something about seashells and vanished. The others were already heading their separate ways when I walked over to Pomni and hugged her. She jumped slightly, but didn’t pull away. I thanked her as warmly as I could for staying with me, and I saw on her face that same guilt from earlier being soothed slightly. It wasn’t enough to put her at peace, but enough so she knows I will happily praise her for doing something good.

I let her go and I offered her another meal tonight – if she was feeling up to it, that is. I could see her putting real thought into it-

My writing is once again interrupted by a dainty knock at the door.

“Ragatha? I’m here for dinner, but-” I quickly slam my journal shut and hide it away again. The last thing Pomni needs to see is the contents of that book. I hop up from my chair with a spring in my step and grab the doorknob, only for Pomni to suddenly shout.

“D-don’t open the door yet! There’s a bucket full of something on the door frame. It’s attached to some kind of trigger. Kinger’s getting it down now.”

I hear Kinger scraping something metallic away from the door before the man himself speaks up.

“Oh! That’s where you’ve all been. How do my centipedes keep winding up in buckets..?”

I had clean forgotten Jax trapped the door. The thought of being stuck with a bucket on my head as all of Kinger’s little hellspawns crawl over my face is almost enough to make me throw up, pass out, and start writing a manifesto. All at the same time. Did I say earlier I only have one regret about Jax? I have two. And the second is that I can’t drown him in the cellar.

“Okay! It’s safe now!”

Cautiously I crack open the door. My eyes are drawn to the movement of Kinger walking down the hallway with a bucket full of nightmares in his arms, but I quickly focus back on to Pomni. I let out a low, tired sigh and smile at her.

“You saved me twice in one day.” I try not to swoon, but it still kind of comes out that way. The little blush she starts sporting on her face doesn’t help.

“Ah- don’t worry about it.”

God she’s so cute when she’s bashful. I open the door and step aside to welcome her in with a playful flourish.

“Well, come on in! A hero deserves her heroic feast! I’ll get on it right away.”

“A heroic feast of spaghetti and meatballs?” She laughs, the sound as sweet as wine, as she enters and steps passed me. I laugh back with her as I start to shut the door so we can start another night off right.

“And garlic bread, that’s the really heroic part!”

[st4rymoon]

can i request a smut!!!

so basically steven is a porn star and he’s roommates with the fem!reader and she didn’t know what his job was because he always was cooped up in his room but he always pays rent on time and when the reader was feeling needy she finds one his videos and he catches her and the once so shy steven disappeared

if not feel free to ignore 😭

This has me giggling and kicking my feet up…

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐲 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐫 • 𝘙𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

- 18+, prn star Steven!, sex toys, masterbation, unprotected sex, mean Steven, choking, degrading, p in v, slight fingering, arguing, horny Steven & reader, teasing, language, porn, reader gets caught watching Steven’s porn! Vids, bratty reader, pet names, pussy job!, belly bulge, big dick! Steven

You were delighted knowing you had such a pleasant roommate. After dozens of roommate horror stories told to you by your friends, you were more than happy to find that your roommate was always locked up in his room.

Steven, a British, brown haired gentleman was one of the first people to call for the open room. He was timid to say the least, quiet, and polite.

Even though your interactions were limited, they were always enjoyable. Both of you willingly making dinner for each other every now and then. He loved to talk about Egyptian history, he seemed to be your own personal google when it came to it.

You never questioned the fair amount of packages this man managed to get. Never questioning it due to the fact that he was a nerd, probably some books or figures of Egyptian gods

“Steven another one of your packages arrived” you yelled out as you shut the door behind you, the packages seemed to be never-ending for him.

“Ah- thank you!” He blurted out as he came running out and pulled it out of your hands “so many packages huh!” You joked. He chuckled softly with a smile and went back into his room.

You always wondered what he got up to in his room. Always buried in his room, random music playing at night and muffled noises coming from his bedroom.

Anyone in their right mind would guess he had someone over by the way he’d always keep his door closed but you’d never seen anyone come in or out other than Steven.

“Want anything love? I’m heading out for some food” Steven asked as he walked past the couch. He gave you a flirty wink as he tucked his wallet into his pocket.

“I- I I’m fine thank you” you muttered taken by surprise by the added love in his sentence. “No worries, I’ll be back in a few” he nodded as he shut the door behind him.

You sat in your thoughts for a few moments. Love?

You could tell you haven’t gotten laid in a while by the way that little show of affection had you heated. You’d always thought Steven was attractive but it was always platonic.

You had no clue that Steven would fuck himself in front of his camera as he thought about his hand being yours. You wouldn’t suspect the amount of flesh lights and silicon pussy’s he had locked up in his room.

You rushed into your room, he usually took a few hours whenever he’d go out for some food so you didn’t hesitate to pull out your laptop and look for something to entertain you with.

Looking for porn was difficult to say the least, everything was so boring now and days. You’d go on Twitter in hopes of finding something more your taste.

You clicked and swiped through dozens of pages, none of them catching your attention. You were about to give up until you noticed a familiar bedding, your eyes went wide as you watched.

There was no way.

You noticed your roommates bedding. It’s a coincidence. The person on screen moaned, cock in hand as he jerked himself off. You gasped as the camera shook a bit, allowing you to catch a glimpse of Steven’s distinguishable posters. His pretty face being cut half way off screen with only his mouth in view. You knew it was Steven, how couldn’t it be?

Sure you couldn’t see him completely but it was him. No doubt. The caption reading can’t help but close my eyes and fuck myself to the thought of you as he began to shake. His thick white ropes of cum painting his hand and stomach as he whined and panted out in a shaky tone.

Then you scrolled deeper and were met with the visual of his cock sliding in and out of a fake silicon pussy with a thick white ring of his pre cum forming at the base of his cock.

Just like that yea- oh fuck he cried out. You were completely dumbfounded. You could feel the slick pooling into your panties as you watched hypnotized.

He was fucking huge. The silicon stretched as it adjusted with each of his thrusts, the lewd sounds of the lube and skin slapping together was sinful.

You were laying on your tummy with your laptop in front of you as Steven came in with a handful of cake for you, your favorite midnight snack.

You didn’t notice the sound of the door as you watched in a trance, Steven freezing as he saw himself on your screen. He smiled to himself, finally you’ve found it.

He placed the plate on your drawer as he stood with his arms crossed “having fun?” He cooed. You slammed your laptop closed as you shuffled up onto your bed “I-someone sent me that I was ju-“

“Uh huh uh huh” he nodded “you aren’t a good liar love” he laughed. “So those were all the packages” you awkwardly joked as he smiled down at you “do you do that a lot?” He asked.

“Do what?”

“Do you watch porn a lot” he asked nonchalantly “I- I mean just when I feel like it” you muttered with your face down.

“And what’s got you feeling like it”

You watched Steven closely and noticed he seemed much more confident compared to his usual self. He was leaning on your drawer with his arms wrapped on his chest with a cocky smile on his face.

“You gonna answer?”

“Gosh Steven I watch it when I’m horny! Is that what you wanted to hear! Yes girls watch porn” you semi screamed. “Such an attitude when im just asking a question” he cooed.

“It’s not an attitude. I get horny just the way you do, the only difference being I don’t find it satisfying to fuck a toy.“ you hissed.

“Ouch” he pouted “are you jealous of a toy now?” He smiled “I’m not one to go around and slut myself out, it’s alright if you do”

You looked at him in shock, no fucking way he just called you a slut?

“I’m a slut? I don’t go sleeping around either you piece of shit! And if I did it wouldn’t be any of your business. I don’t like dildos big fucking deal. Now I understand why you have to fuck a damn toy” you scoffed.

Steven had a cheeky smile on his face, it looked almost as if he was enjoying getting on your nerves. “Are you mad I’m not fucking you instead?” He grinned.

“I noticed the way your pretty little eyes lit up as you watched the video, not to mention the way you walk around the flat with flimsy panties on and a tee. I notice it just like you notice me in my sweats”

You squeezed your legs together as the look in his eyes made your stomach turn. You really hope he makes a move.

He walked over to the side of your bed and plotted down besides you “I can see it in your eyes, the way you want me to make a move” he hummed.

“Tell me you don’t me too. Tell me to get out” he cooed “I want it, don’t go please” you moaned. “I know you do” he smiled, a gasp escaped your lips as he pressed his lips onto your neck.

He sloppily kissed up your neck, hand moving behind your head for a better grip “Steven” you purred. He chuckled as you pushed him onto your pillows. You straddled his hips as he pulled his shirt off with no trouble.

“Ah ah let me do it for you” he cooed as he swatted your hands away from your shirt. Steven pulled your top off in a slow, sensual manner. His hands roaming your body as he took in all your beauty.

His hands snaked onto your hips, allowing him to flip you over so he could cage you in. He couldn’t resist running his hands down your tummy knowing he’d be able to see himself bulging through you.

He’d always pretend he was holding you like this while filming, he’d buck his hips into his fist pretending it was your tight cunt hugging around him.

You giggled as he spread your legs wide. He was getting you in the position he always wanted to take you, just the way he fucked his pathetic flesh light. “Such pretty panties love, such a shame they’ll be all messy by the time I’m done” he chuckled.

There was something hypnotizing about the sight in front of you. Steven pulling his sweats off as his stomach curled with his movements had you squirming under him.

“You’re just so desperate to be used aren’t you? Look at you” Steven purred as he moved your panties to the side. He held a tight fist around the thin cloth as he scooted towards you “look at the that”

Steven’s eyes were blown out at the sight of your tight cunt gushing slick. He couldn’t help but push two fingers deep inside you and pull them out for a taste.

“Steven please” you whined. “I know sweetheart, you just want me to make you feel good” he coyly replied. “I’ll make you my new personal toy yeah? Give my fans something real to look at” he hummed as he rubbed himself between your folds.

You mewled at the sensation of Steven fucking himself between your folds with a harsh grip on one thigh as his other held your panties to the side. “I don’t even need to lube you up doll, you’re all wet and ready”

Both of you let out a heavy sigh as Steven sunk into you. The stretch of you cunt making his vision go blurry as he noticed himself bulge through your tummy with half his length in you.

The man you once knew was no where to be found as you dumbly stared into Steven’s eyes. He had your legs spread wide, cock pounding you onto the sheets as he ruined your panties.

He payed no mind to your yelp as you heard the rip of the flimsy panties. He sighed as he finally got them out of the way “are you sure you don’t go sleeping around? You seem to be good at this” he cooed. “F- fuck you!” You whined as his hands wrapped around your waist with his thumbs right above your belly button.

He held onto you like you were too precious to lose and fucked you like he hated you, there was no going back for neither of you. “Sss- stevennn oh my fucking godddd” you cried as his hands snaked up around your neck.

He had you at an angled position, hips slightly off the bed as he used the extra grip as leverage. His hips rammed onto the back of your thighs as his moans grew louder with every thrust.

“You’ll be perfect as a porn star, the sounds you make will make everyone wish they were the ones getting them out of you” he hummed. Your orgasm tingled up your body as you cried out Steven’s name, cunt fluttering around him as you gasped.

“That’s it” he seethed, hips fucking into you harder as he grew closer to the edge “a- fuck lov- better than anything I could wish fo- ah!” Steven hissed as his hips came to a halt.

He was buried so deep you were clawing at his back, your hands pulling him in as you hugged onto him. Steven panted into the crook of your neck and held onto you for dear life. Steven’s sweet moans filled your ears as he spilled his loads in you.

Last night was definitely the last time he’d be posting himself fucking his stupid toys, he’s got something better than silicon now.

[astarionancuntnin]

here's my masterlist with everything i've written! note that:

all fics are explicit and astarion x fem!reader unless specified

series and multichapter fics have their masterlist linked with all chapters and ao3 links

one-shots/requests will have their main theme mentioned in parentheses next to the title, and the full lists of content warnings are available on their linked post/ao3 page

Requests: OPEN!

Current pending requests: 2

- i am more comfortable writing astarion (spawn or ascended) and halsin, but im open to get out of my comfort zone and write other characters! - i write in third or second POV (more experienced with x reader/tav) - comfortable with most types of writing (fluff, smut, angst, hurt/comfort) - i am willing to go extremely dark and kinky (basically ask and if its above my limit ill tell you, but if ive already written about it, im cool with it) - send an ask and ill get started on it! (i am quite busy recently, but i promise to get around to your request sooner rather than later)

fics are posted in chronological order of creation

this list will keep getting updated as i upload more

full list below the cut!

she was a wildfire that couldn't be tamed; he was the night star admiring her ruthless dance

Undisclosed Desires (Denial of feelings, rivals to lovers) (part 1)

Masterlist

astarion and you, along with your other companions, have been traveling together for a few weeks now. he gets on your nerves at least once a day. but as much as you hate to admit it, your late night activites are plagued by him. little do you know, hes aware of the effect he has on you and intends to use that to his advantage.

Bad Blood (Mature, Angst, follow up fic to Undisclosed Desires, Astarion POV) (part 2)

Masterlist (not posted yet)

it was meant to be a nice, simple plan. get the sorceress to fall in love with him to assure his safety. what he didn't plan was to fall for her as well, and all the complications that came along with it.

A Lesson in Taming Your Dark Consort

(all fics in this series are one-shots that surround the dynamic between Ascended Astarion and his consort Malva (my oc evil tav), heavily BDSM driven)

Taming a Tempest (spanking, semi-public sex)

oh, to be the Vampire Ascendant's dark consort. to have eternity and enhanced powers right at her finger tips - only to be denied. but two could play this game, and Malva would make Astarion regret witholding anything from her.

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read on tumblr

Dancing on the Edge of a Knife (knife play, orgasm denial)

ever since his ascension, Malva was convinced that Astarion was the only person who could understand her every twisted desire. well, almost. there are some things she still keeps to herself, he simply wouldn't understand this part of her, the one who dances on the very edge of her knife.

read on ao3

read on tumblr

Contributions to Angels of The Night Collection

Blood Sisters (MalvaxMerelind)

Die For You (Lovers to Enemies to Lovers, Ascended Astarion) Completed work!

contains some Shadowheart x fem!reader

Masterlist

the ascension changed the person Astarion was, or so you believed. you broke up and parted ways after defeating the netherbrain, thinking it was for the best, but when you see him again 6 months later at the reunion, you realize you never truly moved on. and neither did he.

Meet Me In The Woods (predator/prey)

read on ao3

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it's astarion's turn to keep watch for the night. everyone's off to bed and he's still gone hunting and nowhere to be seen. you refuse to be the one to fill in for him again, so you venture into the woods looking for where he was last seen.

Midnight's Embrace (weed, polyamory)

astarion x female!reader x halsin

read on ao3

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you can’t recall the last time you had a real, good night of sleep. your fight with the nether brain is approaching fast and your anxiety is only increasing. halsin proposes to try a special brand of herbs to alleviate your mind. turns out this herb also awoke something else in you.

Nothing But A Dream (somnophilia)

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you've agreed to take things slow with astarion, only partaking in nighttime activities when he specifically desires them, and this morning, he wants you. but he would hate to intrude on your precious beauty sleep.

Run, Little Fox (predator/prey, hate sex, mildly dubious consent)

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this brat of a rogue questioned your leadership one time too many, it is time he learns his place, and youll do it the only way he'll listen to you: with a challenge. if you win, he will be held accountable for his actions, but if he wins, he gets to use you every night. it doesn't matter anyway, you'll win... won't you?

Public Display of Affection (A!A, jealousy, semi-public/loud sex, hints of voyeurism feat. Gale)

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his consort - his beautiful, too kind for her own good - forever young lover. she was his, and his only, and he believed it was long overdue to make that statement clear among the rest of their group. after tonight, the only name spiling from her luscious lips would be his.

Death is Not an Escape (Mature, Dead By Daylight AU, heavy angst)

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it wasn't supposed to end like this, they were supposed to get out and defeat the absolute - together. but as a dark fog swallowed them whole, their fates changed drastically.

The Ways of Worship (Priest/Modern AU, Corruption)

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this faith was all you've ever known. so when you wake up a morning with the dreadful feeling that you've lost it, you do the one thing that makes sense - confess to your local priest. when he offers his guidance with the promise of making you whole again, you accept without a second thought. your first lesson begins tonight.

Remember Me (Angst, Audio adaptation)

read on ao3

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you can't make sense of where you are or even how you ended up in this cell - hells, you're not even sure of who you are at this point; any memories of your past are a blur. it's all the more confusing when a group of adventurers come to rescue you, and a particularly worried pale elf takes it upon himself to help you remember who you are.

Silent Night (Somnophilia, Heavy Non-Con, Breeding)

gale x tav

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read on tumblr

gale's one dream with Tav is to have a family - something she's been teasing for too long now. something gale is done denying himself. tonight, whether she wants it or not, he'll make her the mother of his children.

sleeping next to astarion

A!A's children

your short future with astarion

A!A being possessive of his consort

[hellodarling1357]

Tiny Toes: Part 6.2 - Cassian x Reader

Here's the second installment of the Ottie-Calling-Y/N-Mum mini-series

Summary: Birthdays + Surprises + Big Changes 2.0

Word Count: 1.7k

You can read the previous part here

A small commotion on the other side of your bedroom door had you tossing in your sleep, somewhat aware of the fact that something was going on but not conscious enough to fully bring yourself to care. However, it was the wafting smell of pancakes, and waffles, and eggs, and bacon, and toast – basically all the breakfast foods you could possibly think of – that had your eyes blearily blinking open.

Now that you were properly awake, you could clearly make out the hushed voices of Cassian and Ottie; knowing that they were there had an automatic smile tugging on your lips as you rolled over and pulled the blankets tighter around you.

“Ottie,” you could just make out the sound of Cassian opening the door, “I think she’s still asleep, so what do you need to do?”

You were certain that Cassian knew you were awake purely from the teasing tone in his voice, yet, you remained still, eyes closed, as Ottie bounded across the floor and, with a determined flap of her wings, landed on the bed beside you.

“Happy Birthday!”

You opened your eyes, coming face to face with a grinning Ottie who was excitedly jumping on the bed next to you. Once she saw that you were awake, she let out a squeal before attacking you with a hug and countless kisses to your cheeks.

“Oh, hello.” You mused with a sleepy smile, arms wrapping around her as she fell against you, making room for Cassian to sit on the mattress beside you.

“Happy Birthday!” Ottie repeated again.

“Thank you, sweetheart. How did you know it was my birthday today?”

“Daddy told me.” She looked over at Cassian with a conspiratorial nod.

“Did he just?” You shot a glare at Cassian who was smiling at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He was well aware of the fact that you didn’t want to do anything to celebrate this year, after a few hundred years the excitement eventually wore off. But if Ottie knew it was your birthday…

“- we have lots and lots of things planned for you today,” she excitedly said, going back to bouncing on the bed as Cassian silently shifted to lay next to you, his fingers lacing through yours. “We’ll do presents, then after presents we have breakfast, then after breakfast we get ready for the day, then after we’re ready… oh no.”

Cassian looked up from you, midway through pressing a kiss to your cheek. “What’s wrong, princess?”

“I forgot to get my birthday card.” Spreading her wings, Ottie was, once again, in the air before landing with a soft thud on the floor. You huffed a laugh as you felt Cassian tense beside you, watching her every move with trained efficiency.

“Cauldron, I’m still not used to her being able to do that,” he said aloud before turning back to you with a soft smile, “Happy Birthday, love.”

You hummed as Cassian moved to hover above you, arms wrapping around his neck as he leant down to slant his lips over yours. The kiss was cut off as quickly as it started as Ottie ran back into the room and flew up onto the bed again.

“Birthday card, birthday card,” she said in a sing-song voice, basically pushing Cassian off of you so that she could have your full attention. You shifted up the mattress so that you were now leaning against the headboard, Cassian settling beside you and slipping an arm around your waist so that he could tug you closer against him.

“Is that for me?” you asked Ottie as she sat on your lap, excitement radiating off of her as she constantly shifted as though unable to keep still.

“Yep, I made it all by myself.”

“Oh, it’s beautiful. Thank you so much, Ottie” your heart lit up at the positively delighted look on her face as she took in your complement.

“You have to read it,” you smiled at her again as you opened the homemade card, taking in the swirls of colours that were spread out across the page. “No,” Ottie was quick to interject, “you have to read it out loud, silly.”

Cassian peered over your shoulder at the card, sharing an amused look with you as you both tried to decipher what the scribbles meant.

“Ottie, you know what would make this card even more special? If you read it for Y/N.”

“Oh, okay.” Ottie seemed to contemplate the idea for a moment before grabbing the card from you with a determined little nod as her eyes scanned over the paper.

You shifted slightly so that you were now leaning against Cassian’s chest, his arms tightly wrapping around you with his chin resting on top of your head as you waited for Ottie to begin.

“Dear Y/N, daddy wrote that bit to help me get started but I did the rest, I promise,” you gave her a reassuring smile, prompting her to continue.

“Dear Y/N, happy happy happy birthday. You are going to have a good day, no, the bestest day, because… because you just will. And because Daddy and I planned lots and lots of surprises for you, because it is your birthday.”

You let a smile light up your face at Ottie’s words, based on the way her eyes switched between one specific spot on the paper, then to you then to Cassian and back again, it was clear that she was just saying whatever came to mind, but, truthfully, you found that even more special.

“Ummm, thank you for giving me lots of cuddles, and for making cupcakes with me, and for always reading me a bedtime story and tucking me in. And… oh! Thank you for making Daddy laugh and smile. And thank you for being my mummy and I really, really love you. I love you this much,” she flung her arms out wide, seemingly straining to create even more distance between the tips of her fingers. “And thank you for having your birthday today because it means we get to eat lots of cake – which was supposed to be a surprise.”

Ottie finished with a proud grin as she looked between you and Cassian with a sense of finality. She was quick to lean against you to point out what each drawing on the card was, completely missing the way your eyes teared up and the emotion filled glace you and Cassian shared.

“Daddy?” Ottie asked in an overemphasised whisper, pulling the two of you out of the trance you had been in. “Can we go downstairs and open presents now?”

“I – uh – Sorry, Ottie, yes of course. Shall we eat some of the secret pancakes we made at the same time?” Cassian asked, tearing his gaze away from you as a brilliant smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Oh! Yes, please! Come on, mummy…Y/N, umm,” Ottie cocked her head at you, fumbling over her words whilst trying to make sense of them. “Come on, I want you to open my present first because it’s going to be your favourite. Daddy said I can’t tell you what it is yet...”

You were stuck, frozen against Cassian as you watched her jump off of the bed and wait for you by the door, jumping excitedly from foot to foot.

Cassian squeezed your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade, your neck, then the top of your head. “Come on, love, we’ve got presents to open and pancakes to eat, don’t we Ottie?”

Climbing out of bed together, Cassian was quick to lace his fingers through yours, giving them a reassuring squeeze as you followed Ottie out of the room.

“Cass…” you started, still at a loss for words.

“Are you okay?” he pulled you to a stop while Ottie leapt down the stairs, softly singing to herself and completely oblivious to the weight her words held over you. “I can have a chat with her, tell her not to–”

“No, it’s fine,” you said softly, cupping his face as your eyes scanned for any flickers of emotion that would give you insight into what he thought of the situation.

“You don’t mind?”

“No, I – I don’t think so.” You smiled at him, feeling a shift as the implication of this next step took hold.

“Good.”

“Good?” That was all he had to say? Good?

“Yeah, good. Now hurry up, we’ve got presents to open.” He said with a wink.

“Cassian?” you said, still rooted to the spot despite the calloused hand that tried to tug you further down the stairs. He turned back around, a soft smile gracing his handsome features as he stepped closer to you.

“As long as you’re okay with it, we’ll figure the rest out later, alright?” You nodded in response, a smile pulling at your lips to ease the sudden tension and doubt that creased between Cassian’s brows, already feeling more at ease now that you knew he was alright with what happened.

“I love you, Y/N. Just so you know in case I hadn’t already told you that today.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down so that his face was level with your own, “I love you,” you murmured back before pressing your lips against his.

Once again, you were interrupted as Ottie reappeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Y/N,” she yelled up to you excitedly, “you were taking forever, so I already opened a present for you. Look, it’s a book.”

Cassian scoffed, ready to chastise her as she ran back into the living room, leaving a trail of wrapping paper and ribbons behind her. You pressed another soft kiss to Cassian’s lips, unable to fight off the smile that you were sure matched the one spreading across his face.

“Come on, I don’t want any more surprises ruined for me today.” You said with a laugh as you held Cassian’s hand and continued down the stairs.

“Don’t worry, love. There are plenty of surprises left in store.”

*****

Read Part 6.3 now!

*****

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[otakubimbo]

Sunday Dinner

Logan Howlett (Worse Logan) x AFAB Mutant Reader !

Slight Angst. SLOW Burn. Minors DNI!

You were preparing for your regular Sunday dinner when you get a few unexpected guests at your doorstep.

previous | next

Music flowed through your apartment as you busied yourself with making your Sunday dinner. A simple menu, pot roast, smashed potatoes, broccolini, and homemade gravy to go on top of everything. Unfortunately, you didn’t have time to make a dessert, and you knew Wade was bound to complain about it, rolling your eyes preemptively at the future tantrum. Right as you were finishing up on the gravy, leaving it to simmer there was a knock at your door.

You excitedly went to open the door, you actually loved Sunday dinners, with a smile on your face you opened your door to see Al, Peter, Wade, …... and Logan.

“You don’t mind that I invited my lil honey badger. Ya know he's basically part of the family now anyway.”  Wade grins making his way into your apartment.

“I brought pie,” Peter says excitedly handing it to you as he also makes his way inside.

“that’s actually great because I didn’t have any time to make dessert.” You place the pie on the counter, waiting for the inevitable tantrum from Wade. It didn’t take more than a second for him to start his spiel about \how you must not love him anymore since you had forgotten about his favorite part Sunday dinner. “Oh, shut the hell up,” You comment as you begin to put everything in the serving dishes., “I got caught up at the studio, there's a gallery showing coming up soon and I was asked to submit some pieces. You can go one Sunday without a homemade dessert.”

Even with your very valid excuse, Wade acts as if you’ve shot him multiple times.

“Your dumb ass lucky she still invites you over. Don’t worry about that jackass. But if you ever need some inspiration, you know where to find me. “Al tells you, knowing that she’s definitely talking about doing drugs. You giggle softly and thank her.

“Gallery?” Logan surprisingly asks and you’re taken aback, almost forgetting that he was here.

“Ah yes, our lil matter-of-fact is a painter. She gotta pay the bills somehow, even though I've been told her that with a body like that she can get a lot more money elsewhere” Wade interjects before you get to respond, throwing his arm over your shoulder which you push off with a scowl. 

“And I’m a freelance artist, I have some of my paintings around the house.” You say trying to sound confident in your creations, you don’t know why he's making you feel shy, you had so much pride in your art. There was a piece of you in every painting you did, a page from the story of your life.  Logan didn’t move from his seat, but his eyes wandered around the room, taking in the paintings that graced your walls, some of your more happy-inspired pieces. But there was one that particularly caught his eye, a painting truly straight from your own heart. His gaze was locked on that one for longer than you would have liked, he almost looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t. Luckily for you, there was another knock on your door.

“Anyways that’s probably Cat, she said she was going to try to make it, she had deadlines for her column that she needed to finish.” You wipe your hands on the frilly apron that you’re wearing, Logan smirks at your appearance, that apron didn’t match you at all, but it was cute.

As you open the door with a bright smile on your face to greet your friend, you are face to face with not your friend at all. It was the face of your ex-boyfriend, the one who cheated on you and whom you haven’t contacted since you found out.

“I knew you would be home. I need to talk to you.” Caleb looks at you, then past you to the guests in your apartment then back to look at you.

“The offer to cut his dick off still stands,” Wade says from his position at the dinner table, making you sigh, pushing Caleb out of your doorway and shutting the door behind you.

“What are you doing here Caleb?” You question as your brow furrows, hands balled to your sides.

“We need to talk, and you won’t answer my calls or texts.” He huffs as if he should be the one who’s annoyed by this circumstance.

“There’s nothing to talk about. We are over, that’s it” You fold your arms over your chest in an attempt to protect yourself somehow.

“Oh, you can’t be serious,” He rubs his face in frustration, “You know how difficult it is being with you, and it just took a toll on me for a minute and I made a mistake.”

“A mistake?” You ask, attempting to keep your voice level, not trying to garner any of the attention from your guests inside, “You slept with Liz, how the hell is that a mistake???”

“You don’t understand.”

“There is nothing to understand, you need to leave.”

He groans again at your difficulty to speak to him about this, “Just hear me out for fucking once, I was under a lot of stress and then having to deal with your stuff on top of that. It’s a lot, you’re a lot. I just needed a little stress relief; you have to be able to understand that.” So this was your fault? You were the reason he cheated on you because you were so difficult to be with, but then why was he here? For your forgiveness? To get back with you? Fuck, you didn’t even care because it felt like you were about to break. You didn’t want to cry, especially not in front of him.

“Leave, Caleb.”

“Ugh you’re not listening to me; this is one of the problems right here.”

Before you can tell him to go again, you feel the warmth of a chest on your back and a hand making you take a step back into your apartment.

“I think you’re not listening to her bub; she told you to leave” Logan basically growls at your ex. A little shaky you look up at Logan, his jaw is set tight, and he looks right pissed, your gaze then falls back onto Caleb who takes a scared step back.

Caleb looks between the two of you, and scoffs laughing bitterly, “Looks like you moved on quickly” he turns his attention to Logan, “Don’t waste your time with her, she’s dangerous and damaged goods, no fixing that one.” His last comment before Logan slams the door in his face, going back to his spot at the table.

It takes a moment to process all that just happened, but you shake yourself out of it quickly, “Anyways, let's go ahead and eat I put too much work into this to get cold.” You put on your fakest smile as you sit down and start serving yourself. It’s clear someone wants to say something.

“So that offer about his dick.”

“Shut it Wade” Logan growls as he follows your lead, reading the room surprisingly well, “You got anything good to drink?”

“Uhm yeah,” you say as you get up, wiping your hands on your apron again before taking it off, this made Logan notice the tattoo you had on the back of your shoulder. The X-Men symbol, so you really did use to be one, interesting. You smiled as you pulled out a bottle from your alcohol fridge, you preferred your drinks chilled.

“Okay so this is a rum, but it was aged in a whiskey barrel, I think you’ll really like it.” You say as you pour him a glass, he raises an eyebrow at you.

“We will see,” Logan responded, and you just sat back with a confident smirk as he took a sip. He hums after the first taste, “Not bad” he raises the glasses towards you.

“Told you, “You smile for real this time and dinner commences.

Eventually, everyone leaves and now it’s just you and your thoughts. You sigh as you clean up your place, wash and put away dishes and Caleb’s words stay on your mind. The way he blamed you for his actions and there was a part of you that actually thought the same. After finishing cleaning, you grab your emergency pack of smoke and make your way outside. You didn’t smoke often, you tried not to at the very least, even if you were a mutant that had some regenerative powers, they weren’t perfect, and smoking was still terrible for you.

As you light your cigarette, stepping outside your apartment building you spot Logan, leaning on the rail smoking a cigar.

His eyes catch yours, as you take your first drag, “You smoke?”

“Occasionally, what are you doing out here?” You ask as you stand across from him.

“Too much Wade.” Which makes you snort before taking another drag, “And you?”

“Too much thinking,” you say casually, he just hums in understanding. The two of you stand in silence, a sense of ease coming over you as you finish up your cigarette. You take your last inhale, throwing the butt to the ground and stepping on it before going to head back inside. Before you can open the door, Logan grabs your attention.

“He’s wrong you know,” Logan states nonchalantly.

“What?”

“He’s wrong about you, you don’t seem like damaged goods. I would know. Everyone has their demons.”

You don’t know whether it was the cigarette or his words making you feel lightheaded, but your face softens, and you give him a small smile, “no, he is right but that’s okay, good night, Logan”

As you go to walk inside Logan grabs your arm to stop you, he drops it almost in an instant as he feels a strange scar on your wrist. Your gaze tells him you don’t want him to ask but the feeling of the scar has a question on the tip of his tongue. But he doesn’t, he doesn’t ask, and leaving him behind with questions.