#but whatever she was on is what i need now

[kashverse]

thinking of babykuna turning into a tween and starting to get into makeup so when kunamama finds her trying on her makeup she helps her and dolls her up. sukuna HATESSS it lol (hes sad his baby is more into makeup than labubus now 💔)

i'm not sure how old a tween is but this is based off of a true story in my household LOL

sukuna always knew this day would come. the day his sweet, precious baby girl would move on from her babyish little fake makeup kits to real makeup. he had prepared himself for it, accepted it as an inevitable part of growing up. he just didn’t expect it to happen at the goddamn age of nine.

when he peered into babykuna’s room that fateful afternoon, he expected to see her usual chaos—her army of labubus lined up on her desk, ready for world domination or whatever strange little plots she was cooking up. instead, he saw something far, far worse.

there she was. his baby girl, sitting at her desk, face serious with military-grade focus as she carefully dabbed colored lip balm on her lips. sukuna’s soul shattered. it wasn’t just any lip balm. no, no, no. the labubus were gone. gone. in their place sat a neatly arranged set of scented and colored lip balms, like some kind of beauty counter display—a full-on collection.

“what… the fuck.”

babykuna looked up at him, proud of herself. “papa! look! i got new lip balm!” she pointed at the lineup. “this one’s strawberry, this one’s blueberry, this one’s watermelon, this one’s peach, and this one’s—”

sukuna wasn’t listening. he was too busy having a spiritual crisis. his babygirl—his baby—was moving on from toys to beauty products. the labubus had been replaced. this was worse than death. “no,” sukuna muttered, shaking his head. “no, no, no, this isn’t happening.”

"papa?"

he turned to you, eyes wide, desperate, feral. “do something.” you blinked at him, unimpressed. “do what?”

"tell her to play with her labubus!"

you stared at him, then at babykuna, who was now puckering her lips at herself in the mirror, and then back at him. “you’re losing it.”

babykuna smacked her lips together, admiring the light pink tint she had just applied. “mama, do you have a lip liner?”

sukuna gasped so hard he choked on air.

"she knows what a LIP LINER is?!"

you sighed, placing a hand on his chest. “sukuna, calm down.”

“no. no, i will not calm down. she's nine.”

babykuna held up another lip balm. “this one’s cherry!” 

sukuna physically staggered backward like he’d been hit. you had to physically restrain your six-foot-something, terrifyingly strong husband from falling to his knees and begging his daughter to return to the simpler days of playing with stuffed monsters. "it’s just lip balm, sukuna," you deadpanned, trying to keep him upright as he clutched his chest in agony.

“‘just lip balm’ she says! you don’t get it, woman! this is how it starts! first, it’s lip balm, then it’s eyeliner, then it’s lipstick, then it’s—” he cut himself off, horror dawning in his eyes. “...boys.”

you pinched the bridge of your nose. “jesus christ.”

babykuna blinked. “huh?”

sukuna grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you slightly. “she's gonna start liking boys.”

"maybe she’ll like girls."

"that's even worse!"

babykuna, completely ignoring his dramatics, turned back to her mirror. “i think i need a lip gloss too…”

sukuna screamed.

a/n: sukuna saying “that's even worse” is not meant to sound homophobic, sorry if it comes off like that! he's just a bit paranoid of having to be protective of both sides :P

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

mean!rafe slowly getting soft for reader but she realizes what sort of sick person he really is so she leaves him and now rafe is the desperate one (this would be really appreciated pretty!!!)

i loved, i loved, i loved you

mean!rafe cameron x desperate!fem!reader

cw — talks of murder, stalking, manipulation

summary — after overhearing a conversation between your boyfriend and his best friend, you begin to rethink your decisions.

authors note — can be read as a standalone but is apart of the mean!rafe series. part 1 is “i just wanna be one of your girls” and part 2 is “but i’ll do anything for you.” i’ll probably make a masterlist for this cause it’s probably going to end up turning into a series tbh so lmk if i should do that! please request more!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

“baby?” you heard him call out from the living room as the front door shut. he shrugged off his jacket and hung it up on the coat rack then followed the smell of food into the kitchen where you stood all pretty. you had a cute little pink sundress on, a white apron with a ribbon adorning the middle, and your hair was perfectly curled. “you look like a fucking dream.”

he walked over to where you were standing and pulled you into him with his big hands lightly squeezing at your hips. “thank you, rafe. i made your favorite,” you replied with a smile on your glossed lips as you rested your hands on his shoulders. “how was work?”

a sigh left his lips and his body tensed. “same thing as usual. nothin’ for you to worry your pretty little head about,” he said with a kiss to your temple. “i missed you, angel.”

you frowned slightly and hugged him. “i missed you too, rafe.” you nuzzled into his chest deeper and he held you close, taking in the delightful scent of your shampoo. you pulled away a little sooner than he would’ve liked and pulled out his designated chair at the table. “why don’t you eat before the food gets cold?”

he nodded and sat down, laying the napkin over his lap and unraveling one pack of utensils you spent your afternoon packaging up to look professional. you sat across from him in your own seat and waited for him to take his first bite before beginning to eat your own.

he wrapped up some of the noodles on his fork and placed it carefully into his mouth while you sucked in a breath and waited for his validation. “it’s amazing, sweetheart,” he praised while getting more onto his fork. “you always prepare the best, you know that.”

you smiled to yourself and glanced down at your own plate, a red blush spreading across your cheeks. you began to eat as you two sat in a comfortable silence and enjoyed the pasta.

once he finished and was getting ready to get up and place his dish in the sink, you stood and beat him to it. “i’ve got it,” you said softly. you knew how long and draining his work days were and you’d do anything to make the rest of his day better.

“thank you, angel,” he replied gratefully while standing and brushing past you with a loving squeeze to your hip. “i’ve gotta finish up some stuff on my laptop. i’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

you nodded and began to wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen. once you were all finished, you neatly folded your apron and placed it in the closet in the living room before heading up the stairs and to the office to see if he needed anything. before you could even knock, you heard a loud bang, which you assumed was his fist against his desk.

“goddamnit barry! i fuckin’ told you that i had it handled,” he spat into his phone. “i took care of him, alright? they got rid of the body, the evidence, all of it and now you’re over here screwing it up.”

the body? you placed a hand over your mouth to cover the sob threatening to slip past your lips. you pressed your ear closer to the door and waited for him to speak again.

you heard him curse under his breath and laugh angrily. “it was all going to plan and then—“ he paused. “get rid of him. do whatever you have to do, just fuckin’ get rid of him. i’ll do it myself if i have to.”

a tear hit your hand and you quickly backed away from the door and quietly walked into your shared bedroom. you immediately began throwing clothes into a bag until you heard the office door open. you shoved it under your bed and sat at the edge of it.

he came in and immediately made his way over to you, kneeling in front of you and holding your hands in his. “hey. what’s wrong, sweet girl?”

you just shook your head and faked a sad smile. “i jus’ miss you, rafe,” you lied as convincingly as you could.

he sighed. “i know, baby. and i’m sorry,” he mumbled softly. “look. i gotta go handle something really quick but we can spend the whole night together the moment i get back, ok? i promise.”

a shaky breath left your lips as you nodded and allowed him to kiss you then your forehead as he stood and made his way out towards the front door. the moment you heard it shut, you packed everything you could and sprinted out towards your car. you didn’t know how much time you had until he got back.

you were quick to disable your location on everything and turn on do not disturb before speeding off towards your parents house an hour away. you hoped it would be far enough and undisclosed so he’d never find you.

and only 30 minutes into the drive, you had 72 missed calls and 101 texts from rafe.

[etiolatedmutant]

logan seeing a picture of wade pre-mutation

he has a weird moment of “why tf is there a picture of that nicepool douche in my house” before he Realizes

and wade is like “oh great now That’s gonna be in his mind forever, what i used to look like before the ground beefing of it all, just what i fuckin needed” and he makes a joke (shocker) to stave off how insecure he is

“i was trying to make lepers fashionable, jokes on me i guess”

and logan just eyes the photo and says, “you look weird.”

wade’s Shocked. he was a fucking Looker back then, thank you very much. “there’s just no winning with you, is there?” he asks.

and logan turns the photo over and over in his hands, dis-fucking-pleased, before he flicks it back from whence it came. and he looks at wade, all green-eyed disarming honesty, and says, “i like my version better.”

and if wade didn’t Know logan, didn’t know the shine in his eye and the sincere timbre of his voice, he’d call bullshit. no one in their right mind would prefer him Now to the Him of 2016, right? nessa only put up with it because he was kinda grandfathered into that relationship and she liked his insides as well as his outsides (hey-o)

but he does know logan, and he knows that logan doesn’t mince words or sugarcoat Anything in the name of “sparing feelings,” so he sits there, digesting the compliment like gas station sushi — which is to say, not fucking well at all.

to make matters worse (or, well, better, he guesses) he finds a picture of Him Now and logan from nessa’s new year’s eve party magnetized to the fridge the next day.

it’s poorly lit, illuminated only by shattering fireworks overhead and a few yellow streetlights, and they’re both clearly smashed — wade’s eyes are glassy and red, logan’s cheeks are flushed, and the finer details of their faces have been smudged away thanks to shaky camerawork.

but they’re happy. wade looks happy — he’s smiling, a big, fat, candid grin, like he’d been laughing, and logan’s kissing his cheek, unashamed. he’d been wade’s first new year’s kiss in a long fucking time.

he buys a frame for that picture - a sparkly pink monstrosity from goodwill - and gives it a home on the nightstand next to their bed. and yeah, whatever, on bad days he looks at it and thinks eugh, still, because goddamn francis really did a number on him —

but most days, he’s just happy he gets to be that guy in the picture at all. the guy logan howlett stayed for. the guy logan kissed in front of dozens of people.

logan’s version.

[enwoso]

hey i absolutely love the lovie fics and i had a request for a fic about lovie getting into alessias make up or one about her as a newborn and meeting alessias family at her parents house

DAB TO FAR | alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

the faint hum of the hairdryer had been the background noise for most of the afternoon for alessia's as she was preparing for the fifa awards in london.

the award show being a significant event, her and a few of her other teammate's nominated for the fifa best XI and alessia wanted everything to be perfect.

she tasked her brothers, luca and gio the job of baby sitting you for the night. admittedly they were not the blondes first choice — that would have definitely gone to her mum and dad. but they were out of town choosing to extend their winter holiday in the sun.

so her brothers would have to do. but while alessia was getting her hair and makeup done. it had been surprisingly quiet in her home, too quiet.

her hair stylist, louise finishing up her curled bun as she quickly excused herself telling the girl she should probably check up on you in which she just laughed waving the blonde off to do whatever she needed to do.

alessia's gut twinged as she walked up the stairs, her hair styled perfectly with each hair having a place. but something wasn’t right.

you weren't exactly known for being silent, especially when you were at home. alessia had a hard time getting you to be quiet in the comfort of your own home. you were more of a constant giggler, singer or babbler.

alessia slipped the salon cape on the banister at the top of the stairs, "guys?" she called out.

walking into the room where she could hear gio screaming at what she discovered to be the tv, as he was glued to the gaming console, headset on, controlled in hand as he sat on the edge of the bottom of the bed.

luca was sprawled out on the spare bedroom bed, sound asleep over the noise of gio, his mouth slightly open. typical.

gio was too immersed to even notice her approach. "gio," alessia said, hands on her hips.

he jumped, scrambling to pull one side of the headset off as he noticed his sister with a not too impressed look on her face.

"oh, hey less. your hair looks nice, louise's has done a grand job!" gio smiled as he tried to waver the unimpressed look of his sisters face.

"where's lovie?"

gio face went blank, then turned to mild panic before he stuttered out a response, "uh- i..i thought she was with you?"

alessia's sharp inhale could have rivaled a gale-force wind, "you thought she was with me?"

"well, yeah, she was here a second ago-"

"giorgio!" she groaned, cutting him off as she spun on her heel to try and find you, she didn't have time to lecture him right now. her mind raced as she checked the kitchen and the backyard calling out for you.

"lovie, baby where are you?"

but i wasn't until she was doing the second check of the the upstairs when she passed her room that she noticed something odd. the door was slightly open, and alessia could distinctly remember shutting it earlier.

she gently pushed it open and froze as she poked her head into the room.

you perched on the vanity chair, one leg swinging back and forth as you were surrounded by an explosion of makeup.

eyeshadow palettes were wide open, power dusted across the table and floor like a multicoloured snowstorm. lipstick tubes uncapped and their contents smeared across your tiny face in bold streaks of red and pink.

alessia's blush brush clutched in your tiny hand, its bristles now dipped in an alarming mix of colours.

noticing your mummy in the mirror stood behind you a small wince on her face as you turned and look to her with wide innocent eyes.

your lips - mostly your chin - coated in a sticky uneven layer of alessia's favourite lip gloss.

"mummy! i pretty like you" you declared proudly holding up the brush as if it was a magic wand.

alessia bit back a laugh, she wanted to cry over her ruined makeup but the sight of you so proud of your work melted away any frustration that was building.

"lovie," alessia said crouching down to your level as you sat on the vanity chair, "what have you done?"

you big smile faltered slightly, "i getting ready for the awards.. like you!"

alessia let out a small sigh, softening her tone, "lovie, you know you can't play with mummy's makeup like this. it's special to me and not for little girls"

your bottom lip trembled and alessia quickly reached out to wipe a bit of lipstick off your cheek. "it's okay but we're gonna have to clean this up together alright?"

you nodded solemnly your hands still clutching the brush and a half melted lipstick tube.

after cleaning up majority of the mess - and giving your face a thorough wipe, alessia was matching back into the guest room as you sat downstairs in the living room watching a programme in a fresh pair of pyjamas.

walking into the room, alessia flicked off the tv in the middle of the game gio was playing as she stood blocking the view of the tv.

"hey! alessia!" gio protested, glaring up at her as the gaming controller fell from his hands to his lap.

"don't you 'hey' me. you and him are supposed to be watching her" alessia gestures to downstairs. "you know where i found her? covered in my makeup! luca's asleep and your here playing a game i know you spent more than 12 hours a day playing!"

gio winced, sensing the slight frustration in his younger sisters tone, "she was quiet so i thought.."

"exactly! she was quiet that should have been your first clue!"

alessia didn't spare him any more words as she moved over to were luca lay sprawled out asleep on the bed. jabbing him slightly hard in the shoulder causing the boy to jolt up.

luca rubbed a hand over his face as he blinked groggily, "what's going on?"

"you're supposed to be helping watch lovie, not napping!"

"she's fine" luca mumbled defensively as his eyes fluttered closed again.

"erm she's wasn't actually, she was busy picasso-ing herself with my makeup in my room!"

luca groaned but alessia was already on her way back downstairs knowing her the makeup artist here to do her makeup would be waiting as she muttered under her breath about her useless brothers

as the makeup artist did the finishing touches as you sat comfortably in your mummy's arms getting your hugs in before alessia left as alessia couldn't help but chuckle at the memory of your colourful face.

you may have made a mess and ruined a bit of her makeup that she would no doubly have to replace but there wasn't anything she would trade it for then to have those memories with you.

she would however think twice about trusting her brothers with babysitting duties again...

[revvethasmythh]

listen, now that everything is said and done i'm going to say something i've been thinking but not outright saying for the past nearly four years. frankly, imogen and laudna's relationship is a pale shadow of caleb and veth's and if you really sit and think about it, it's outright embarrassing for the former party. it's like if you saw a beautiful piece of art and tried to emulate it and then the only thing you managed to jot down that was the same was the basic shape and you never added any color when the color was the most important part. imogen and laudna's relationship is formed out of almost the exact same origins (troubled mage who needs to keep a distance from regular society joins up with monstrous misfit with a traumatic backstory and become each other's most important person while traveling place-to-place because they keep getting into trouble in cities). the difference is, genuinely, how much more colorful and lived in caleb and veth's story feels. they met in a podunk county jail and worked together to break out of the place, stayed together for practical reasons (straight-up survival) and then out of genuine friendship. they were hobos in the woods together. they cuddled on the side of the roads on cold nights together. they were genuinely each other's sole lifeline because they were the type of people no one in the world cared about in a very real, visceral way. they were also con artists, and sam and liam worked together to come up with an entire booklet of different cons they used to survive, which come into play surprisingly often during the campaign (Modern Literature, famously, but also Mother's Love and Money Pot featured).

comparatively, we know next to nothing about what imogen and laudna's lives looked like after leaving gelvaan, and the Incident™️ that sent them running in the first place remains amorphous and random no matter how many times the story is told or whatever extra details get added. the people of gelvaan found laudna to be a generically threatening presence (because of her fun-scary appearance and/or kooky-fun-scary behavior) and picked up their torches and pitchforks to run her out of town. imogen heard her thoughts and found them so beautiful she nearly killed two of the townspeople she grew up with the defend her and then they fled into the night together. and that's it. what did they do for two entire years after that? i don't know! neither do you. they don't appear to have struggled for money like caleb and veth did, there's no reference to hard-living, no real reference to what jobs they took to stay afloat, no mention of the practical realities of living as homeless nomads, no mention of towns and cities they'd visited and how those places impacted them. nothing. empty. no color. how did their relationship develop? also don't know! they seem to have slotted together perfectly as friends with no conflict for years before slotting together perfectly as lovers while batting aside all attempts at conflict later. done and dusted, that's the relationship, and people have the gall to call caleb and veth's successor relationship 'soulmatism' when it doesn't hold a candle to what the original offered.

which was, to be clear, endless complexity. i can't tell you how to define it, and i don't think the character's themselves could define it if they tried. sam went into the campaign intending to lean into a familial relationship and quickly realized that wasn't the vibe, course-corrected into veth having a crush on caleb--something sam has said developed fairly early in the campaign.* liam went into the relationship not intending to care about her nearly as much as he ended up doing, then spent the early campaign eps grappling with just how suddenly important she was to him, to the point that, in the face of her potentially dying in episode 20, liam says to sam, "do you want to make my character turn evil already?"** both were surprised at how tightly their characters clung to each other, and developed a deeply caring, highly insular dynamic where they were suspicious of outsiders and desperately guarded each other. with full retrospect, both went into the relationship intending to use each other (caleb for general usefulness/protection and veth, obviously, hoping caleb could change her back one day), then found such deep and tender care that they became each other's worlds. for a time. until nott became veth and veth had a husband and it sent their relationship into a tailspin because no matter how you frame the relationship, caleb clearly felt his feelings for her and the way they behaved together stepped over the line of how one should act with a married woman. after that, he is terrified of the idea that he might not have a place in her life and works so hard to create opportunities to insinuate himself into her present and future (teleportation spells so she can travel home quickly and still return to the group, making room for her family in the tower so she can stay with him, offering to tutor luc in magic to stay in her life, etc). veth gets her body and her life back but fears returning home will be lackluster compared to what she's experienced with the group, starts falling out of love with her husband, and has intense extra-martial feelings for caleb that are canonical. their relationship morphs and changes constantly throughout the campaign, and the one thing about their dynamic that never changes is how deeply and truly they love each other. you want to talk about soulmatism? them being the two party members with fake names who's real names share aspects of each other ("Bren" and "Brenatto") both from small-town dwendalian empire who's lives have been deeply impacted by meddling of the cerberus assembly (veth's in adulthood, caleb's in childhood) and who's deepest traumas are respectively fire and water does the trick for me.

so why is one so popular and the other, particularly as a romantic ship, very much is not? it would be obtuse of me not to immediately point to the fact that imogen and laudna are two pretty, skinny white women who claim to have deliciously little agency in their own stories and provide a blank enough canvas that the relationship can be whatever you want it to be. there's a reason there's so many AU fics for them, after all. caleb and veth on the other hand would center first a relationship between the handsome white fandom-popular sadboi and *checks notes* a self-described ugly, unfeminine goblin with deep neuroses and later a short, fat brown woman who also happens to be a young mother from a small country town. popular fandom, tragically, will almost always turn away from dealing with complexity of the latter for the empty calories of the former regardless of the quality gap between the two. if anything, watching the popularity of imogen and laudna's relationship has cemented my opinion that if veth had been different (either a man or a generically attractive white woman or someone more conventionally pretty just in general), widobrave would have been a massively popular ship, and i think it would have been regardless of veth's marriage. people can forgive a lot to write about their two generically attractive favorites getting together. they're a lot less forgiving for an ugly goblin or a fat, brown young mother, though.

tldr: reject modernity, embrace tradition. ship widobrave

*Talks Machina for C2E88, VOD no longer available, but a paraphrase of the quote can be found here **(2:09:30 on the YouTube VOD).

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

#feel like you would have a wild story to contribute on this

you would be correct

I also worked at a Lifeline and boy I wish my story was this wholesome but alas mine is instead hilarious

I come in one day, sorting the dvds as usual and my supervisor brings me a large box of items wondering what on earth they could possibly be, and as I am a fountain of knowledge for weird trivia she thought I was the best person to ask

my friends

I knew I was in for a ride when she pulls out of this box a flogger and paddle

next thing I know I'm looking my mild mannered middle aged supervisor in the eye and explaining to her what a spreader bar is

so of course I say 'there is no way in hell we can put these out the front without people knowing exactly what they are and possibly being scandalised and also even though this all looks very clean and well maintained (just a little dusty) they might technically be a biohazard'

she says something along the lines of 'this stuff looks like it might be expensive though, this might even be real leather, should we really just throw it out?'

none of the staff in the store, understandably, want to take it, but also we really really could not sell it, but also it was some well looked after good quality gear, the leather cuffs didn't even look worn down so if it had been used it hadn't been used often and by the state of the dust probably not for a very long time, I agreed it would be a waste to throw it out

so I say 'hypothetically if I had a friend who might be into this could we sell it to them on the downlow and have them come in through the back way to pick it up?'

and she said 'that would be great actually'

and so I message my freakiest bestie with 'hypothetically if I had some second hand bondage gear that desperately needed a home would you be willing to sneak into the back of a store to stealth buy it?'

and they said 'absolutely yes I would'

so 20min later they come sauntering in through the back and net themselves some pretty damn good quality hardly used bondage gear at an absolute steal in respect to the fact that they would need to clean and disinfect it all themselves

I have no idea what could possibly have happened to that gear had I not happened to have a very kinky friend on hand, it probably would have either ended up in a bin or shoved in a box for my manager to deal with in whatever way she deemed appropriate

but now I can very confidently say it has found a very loving home

and I am now excitedly informed every time they get the chance to use it

[rhyrhy]

Ex! Pitfighter! Abby, draft

knuckles wrapped, a second skin of bandages soaked with the memory of harsh punches. The jet black hair, new and darker than before, fell messily around her face. Her back tattoo was hidden under the faded tank top, but she could feel it, the weight of the meaning of the ink on her skin. A portrait of what she’d lost. She carried it with her, always.

The pit always reeked of sweat, blood, and alcohol, or desperation. The heat pressed in from every side, a suffocating feeling. Bodies packed together, their faces lit by the lights hanging above, the heat causing a bead of sweat. It was the usual crowd, rowdy, ready for a show, but none of that mattered to Abby. She didn’t care about the noise, the smell, or the grimy underbelly of this place. She just needed the fight. To hit something, someone. Whatever idiot would be brave enough.

But she wasn’t thinking about any of that when she felt her eyes land on her.

You. Fuck.

For a second, Abby froze. The noise around her blurred. She didn’t want to look, didn’t want to be caught looking. Didn’t want to meet your gaze, but before she could stop them, they were snapping toward you. You were standing across the pit, just at the edge of the crowd. There was no mistaking the way her chest tightened when their gaze locked. She hadn’t expected to see you again, not here. Not like this.

What are you doing here?

Her jaw clenched. She almost turned away and walked out before you noticed her, but her feet stayed planted to the spot. Abby couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this exposed. The past few months had been a blur of anger, distraction, and fights, anything to numb the hurt. But seeing you again, in a pit of all places… It felt like someone had just torn open a new wound.

Your lips moved, and for a second, Abby didn’t even hear the words. She was too busy staring, too busy wondering if this was real or if it was just some fucking dream.

“New look …suits you.” You said, scanning over her. “Bit intense, though.”

Her lips twitched. Intense. Yeah, that was the word for it. She could feel the weight of her own body, every bruise, every broken piece of her, and it all felt like it was on display now.

“Yeah?” She shifted her weight, rolling a shoulder, trying to shrug off the growing pit in her stomach. “What can I say? You always said I had a thing for dramatic.”

The words crawled their way out. Like she wasn’t standing there in front of the person who had seen her at her weakest. This was fine; she doesn’t care. It doesn't matter anymore. But if she was being honest with herself… it still did. Months later.

She crossed her arms over her chest, just to make sure her hands stayed put. Keep it together. For her. For everyone else. She couldn’t let you see how much this hurt, even after everything. Watching your eyes scan over her “bloodhound” tattoo on her forearm.

“Don’t like it?” she added, tilting her head, trying to keep the cool distance.

Full fic SOON! Yayyyyy

Abs.mlist

Boarder @/strangergraphics

[oceantornadoo]

ch11 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: a little piss bc reader is refused a toilet. some light torture scenes and violence.

“Where. Is. She.” Ghost slams John against the wall, his forearm to John’s throat. The man’s snarling, an unrestrained beast in a mask. The world zeroes in on the gaze between them, the terrible acceptance that they have a shared weakness. A shared weakness who is gone, potentially dead. All they can do is beat the rotted carcass of this feeling until it breaks. 

Thirty minutes earlier

For the past two hours, there’s been something vibrating under John’s skin. It was there when he pulled Gaz by his collar in the store, searching the man’s eyes for deceit. It was there when he eventually let him down, satisfied with the steel reflecting back at him. It was there when someone handed him his wife’s phone, the screen filled with unread text messages from him asking to get dinner and talk it all out. It followed him all the way to the Castle.

Gaz relocates them quickly, saying he has more devices back at home. John’s home, your home, your shared home. The whole car ride John’s knee shakes up and down, nervous energy permeating the air. All he does is replay your last conversation over and over. 

“I am trapped, John.”

“No matter how I feel about you now, I didn’t pick this marriage.” 

“I can’t even tell if you like me for me or my proximity.”

“I need to go to work before I say something I’ll regret.”

The words swarm through his head like wasps, picking at the insecurities he hides everyday. The worries that you wouldn’t pick him in a normal world, that this has been pillowtalk to pass the days. If you love something you’re supposed to let it go, but he can’t decide between being noble and hoarding you until you forget what life was like before captivity. And of course, all of these thoughts assume you’re alive. He hasn’t let himself consider the full possibility that Shepherd has hurt you in ways that would defile your mind and your body, never leaving you whole again. It all coalesces into an evil energy, vibrating under his skin as the London streets roll by outside the car.

Gaz leads John into the security room with words not meant for him. Murmurs to the house staff, directions ordered over ear pieces. They blur and buzz in John’s eardrums, these damn wasps becoming parasites. He’s too old to consider hunting you himself, knows that he has to trust his man, but the urge is there anyways. Thoughts of escalating into straight warfare, bombing Shepherd’s home without any care for the innocents within. 

That’s what he’s thinking about when Ghost arrives, dragging in coattails of vengeance and dread.

Now

“Stand down, Ghost. This ain’t helpin’.” He croaks out against the pressure in his throat. Ghost’s eyes flare, soulless black pits that see too much. They search John’s, within and around, poking and prodding at the emotions he’s been holding in for the hour since he learned his wife is gone. Whatever Ghost finds is enough, John deemed worthy not to die by the loosening of Ghost’s grip. They pant as one, wishing they had never let themself love a woman enough to destroy their dynasties for her.

The world resumes as Ghost turns away. No one mentions the threat, the way John would have let the guilt drown him if Ghost didn’t. John should have pushed harder, should’ve accompanied you to the store instead of letting you go in his shirt with a faint goodbye on your lips. Like you knew what would happen and went anyway, just to see how far his heart could stretch until it tears.

MacTavish is murmuring low calming words to Ghost, unintelligible over the hum of computers and screens. In this room, all pretense is given up, one man’s hand stroking the other’s. To have a half of a soul live outside the body is a dangerous thing, even more when attacks come from all sides. If he squints, there’s a flash of your glare in Ghost’s, the same half-tilted frown hidden by the mask. It’s like you’re haunting him, no, taunting him with the fact that he’s lost you and now he has to deal with your ghost. It’s all his fault, but he lets the pity fester inside instead of releasing it on everyone else.

“Update, Garrick?” Another croak, a near two minutes after the incident. This is why Gaz is his heir - all he does is hand John the nearest iPad without a mention as to what happened. John reads the screen fast, a list of possible abandoned warehouses near Shepherd locations. It makes sense but the timing is all wrong. He’d expected this if things had been quiet, but there was another scrap between Price men and Shepherd men last night. This kidnapping must have been calculated by someone separate, someone like Phil with a solo mission. He should’ve killed the man when he found out he was working (almost) alone with his wife.

“It’ll be somewhere symbolic. Shepherd likes to make a statement.” Garrick mentions. John hands the tablet silently to Ghost, an offering of peace. In the corner of his eye, he can see MacTavish conferring with Mare, the head of the weapons team, speaking a language only the two of them know. The man frowns, then shakes his head at something Mare says. “Dinnae work like tha’.” It travels over the distance of the room, confusing John enough that he walks over to learn what’s happening.

“Report?” Mare is a bit skittish but cool-headed in times of need, the reason he hired the first ever woman on a Price Family leadership team. He trusts her and her chemistry degrees, plus her sense of urgency. “Sir, we’ve just received word that the weapons stores have been compromised.” It’s like a pin drop, other conversations falling silent as she speaks. “Meaning?” He asks, toeing the line of impatience. “Shepherd’s men struck last night, around the same time as the street fight. We believe it was coordinated between that and the kidnapping to hide it as long as possible. They cut the WiFi, so we only found out during the shift change. All the guards were killed and the weapons taken.” 

John prides himself on acting like a real corporate boss, restrained and professional. However, this is his last fucking straw. “You’re saying Shepherd took my fucking weapons, then my fucking wife? How the hell does this happen?” Ghost grunts at the word ‘wife’ but John ignores it, too focused on the situation at hand. Instead of answering, Mare’s eyes flit around the room. Since it was converted from two bedrooms, it fits up to thirty people and is currently at capacity. He can read his employee too well, and knows she’s nervous about the many ears around. While he usually trusts his people with his life, it’s been an odd day and he decides to err on the side of caution. 

“Mare an’ everyone related t’ me, this way.” There’s an elevator to the upper floor in the back of the room. Ghost and MacTavish fall in line, but Garrick seems frozen and unsure. “Gaz, that includes you.” They don’t acknowledge the head nod, brushing elbows as John hits the elevator button. Once all five are in, John hits the emergency stop between floors, leaving them in purgatory. “Speak.” He instructs Mare.

“There’s a mole. It’s the only way they could have gotten in. I designed that facility myself, sir, and there’s no way they could have gotten in with the tools and soldiers they have. Unless our intel was wrong, and I don’t think it was, we have a rat.” Her words echo in the metal chamber. She meets MacTavish’s eyes and he nods in confirmation. 

“Price.” Ghost grunts, his first words in a while. “It’s someone in that room. They’d hav’ to be on yer security.” John nods at his words and turns to Gaz. “How much longer to narrow down locations?” The man still seems flustered by John’s earlier words and needs a nudge to the shin to spit it out. “An hour, tops. We’re thinking of an abandoned weapons facility or church. Something about what he stole, weapons or marriage.” John grunts at the symbolism of it all. “I’m the first one there.” He demands. “Sir, I-” John turns to look his second in the eye. “I’m the first there.” Gaz nods. John turns back to Ghost and MacTavish, staring at him with twin glares of violence.

“Right, men. We got a rat t’ catch.”

-

“You don’t know what I’d do to find ya and keep ya.”

John’s words echo through your mind as you eye Phil, standing in the corner with a water bottle. You haven’t peed since this morning, 12 hours ago, and he knows. Taunting words sung with a Southern accent, promising a toilet in return for the weapon codes. He’s banking on your embarrassment, that you won’t want to piss yourself in this hellhole. Too bad for him you don’t like to listen to what men tell you to do.

“C’mon, sugar. Know ya got t’ go. Give me the codes an’ I got a nice lil’ bathroom for you. Even has one of those bidets.” You shake your head, refusing. Your bladder is pushing against your stomach, tension growing with every breath. It wouldn’t be too bad if he hadn’t kept feeding you water. You think you’re on bottle six now, what seemed like a blessing turned into a curse.

“Fine. Time f’ another one.” He unscrews and steps to your side, checking your handcuffs before coming near your mouth. It’s like he’s under orders not to hurt you physically. There’s been no beatings, no threat of knives or guns. He needs you alive, and you’re pretty sure you know why. The weapons require both a code and an eye scan, something you can’t fake with a dead body. Johnny created the code section and Gaz added the eye scan later, his coding skills a thing of beauty. His quick thinking is the only thing keeping you alive.

Water pours down your throat. He presses down your tongue to force you to swallow every last drop. When he leans over you, it’s like rose-colored glasses have been removed. His blond hair is limp, face sweaty with concentration. Gone is the charming assistant, bright and fun. You bet he needs you to stay alive for his own safety, his life relying on it.

As water slips into your belly, the pressure to pee goes stronger. With a dirty hand, he pushes on your stomach, and you whine in discomfort. He shouldn’t be touching you, especially in a place so sensitive. The loss of body autonomy is your biggest fear, whether it be motherhood or this. Only John would understand, you think, berating yourself for being so stupidly stubborn. That’s when you make up your mind, to still have control over the one thing you can.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re fuckin’ disgusting, you dirty bitch.” The piss soaks your jeans and, with enough force, dribbles on his shoe. Phil jumps away in disgust, eyes hardened into flint as he glares at you. “Fuck you.” You spit out. A glob of it lands near his shoe, making him jump again. You almost pity how weak he is enough to torture a woman for a living. Almost.

“You’re gonna be sorry you did that.” He bites back. Phil glances at the mirror and for the first time in hours, you let yourself feel a lick of fear. You’re pretty sure you know who his boss is, someone too violent for the games you’re playing. “You’re pathetic, you know that?” Is what you can muster. Instead of answering, he shakes off his shoe and knocks on the door. When it opens, there’s a person in full PPE, holding a metal tray with a filled syringe. You jolt back, but the chair is bolted to the ground and doesn’t allow you to move.

“Wait, please, Phil-” He’s fast, shooting something into your arm. Everything goes dark after that.

-

Gaz was right. It only took an hour. 

But it takes longer than that to rule out each location. It’s been 24 hours, and they haven’t found you yet.

John insists on checking out every place by himself, as does Ghost. They’re even-keeled enough to split up to make it go faster but insist on Gaz scrounging up more earpieces so they can keep in constant contact. They slept in shifts too, six-hour blocks once it hit midnight, so they weren’t trudging through their search. Johnny stays back to work with the engineers on testing the security system he designed, while Gaz comes along with whoever is searching. The four of them stay on their own radio channel like a task force, acting more military than mafia. 

They start from the inner city and expand outwards. It’s methodical. It’s calculated. It’s the exact strategy Gaz planned months ago when the marriage was proposed. He’s the clearest headed out of all of them but there’s still a bite to his tone, a tension in his shoulders, a furrow in his brow. If John wasn’t so out of it himself, he’d be glad that his right-hand man seems to care for his wife. 

They sweep warehouses top to bottom. John tugs on every alliance he has, every favor owed. They get pledges of loyalty from smaller gangs, who do their own searches as well. It’s so much and yet not enough because John Price does not have his fucking wife in his hands. Your shampoo scent is not in his nose, your laughter is not in his ears, your waist is not in his grasp. You are gone and he is at fault for not protecting you.

“Focus, Price.” They’ve both slept and are now in their third church in the past 90 minutes. It’s abandoned like the rest of them, creaking doors and blown out windows. They’ve gotten into a rhythm now, sweeping the building efficiently. You’re not there. They finish in twenty minutes, Gaz outside on the phone with the rest of the crew. When they emerge, he stands tall at attention. 

“Sir, we’ve got a hit.”

-

“How you feeling, hun?” The world is woozy, half-tilt on a rollercoaster. You sway from right to left, only steadying when firm hands grasp your shoulders. Your eyes flutter, vision blurring in technicolor. You’re somewhere else, with paintings on the walls and carpet on the floors. That’s when you do a body scan and realize you’re not in the clothes you were kidnapped in.

You jerk away from the man touching you. The wooden chair you’re strapped to falls to the floor and takes you with it. He tries to pick you up, moving in a blur of dark grey, but you thrash away like a fish out of water. His touch is poison, and you fear it was him who undressed you, him who saw you naked against your will. “Get away from me!” You screech, vocal cords sore from disuse. The man’s hands are gnarled crooked things, clawing at your shoulders until your chair is straight again. You try to flinch but your miniscule reactions are still slurry from whatever you were injected with. Once you’re straight, you bite back a gasp.

It’s him. The General. Shepherd. 

Square face with a buzzcut. Weathered and old with a cruel gleam in his eye. He sits back down into a chair in front of yours. This one is red leather, squeaking comfortably with weight as he sits down. The man was in the army in a past life, hence the styling of The General. He wears dark slacks and an army-like jacket. The bravado of it disgusts you. A title like that should be earned, not worn like play clothes. You put on your brave face and sneer at him, a cat backed into an alley.

“I see why John likes you.” He looks you up and down like he can see through your clothes. You flinch against your will. “You don’t deserve to say his name.” You bite. He laughs jarringly. “Fucking brat is what you are. Even got Phil under your spell.” That’s news to you. It’s certainly at odds with his behavior. You don’t react, easing your features into a smooth mask.

“I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t have the codes.” He stares at you dead-eyed. “Not necessary. We don’t need the codes.” He’s bluffing. You’re willing to bet your life on the hard work of Johnny and Gaz. There’s absolutely no way, no workaround. That’s when you get an idea.

“Oh yeah? You’re just going to put me in front of the eye scanner and go from there?” He frowns like you’ve figured out his plan. You almost laugh. “Too bad. You’re still missing a step.” That reels him in. Shepherd sits forward, elbows on his knees, searching your gaze for a lie. You raise your brows defiantly. “What, don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out?” He squints harder at your words. 

“My brother’s old school. Doesn’t trust technology, or anybody else.” It’s certainly true. Simon’s well-known for not trusting people. Even the General looks intrigued. “What are you sayin’?” He murmurs. It’s like you’re holding a prophecy in his hands. Men are so easy.

“There’s a key.” He scoffs and looks away. “And I’m Robin Hood.” You shrug, leaning back as much as you can into your chair despite the ropes tying you to it. “Believe what you want. I’m just saying, my brother has more checks than you can imagine.” Another truth to reel him in. He scratches an invisible itch on his knee, then gets up. He pulls something from his pocket, and you flinch, thinking it’s a gun. He laughs at your reaction. “Fucking brat.” He murmurs. Shepherd turns to the corner of the room and calls someone, talking in low tones.

When you examine the room, it sends a shot to your heart. You’re in a church. There’s blood red carpeting with paintings everywhere, but it’s not wellkept. There’s dust and no windows, the lighting frail. Perhaps recently abandoned?

Shepherd is back, knife in hand. He thrives on watching you flinch and thrash as he comes closer. You stop when he’s in your face, knife trailing down the length of your nose. “Where’s the key?” You answer without hesitation. “My father’s grave.” It’s the kind of sick shit Ghost would do, and Shepherd knows it. That’s when the knife slips through your ropes, freeing you. There’s a gun in his other hand pointed straight at your head. “You’ll take me to the key. And if it’s not there, so help me God, I’m blowing your brains out on your father’s grave.” You nod, short and shallow.

It’s only halfway up the dilapidated wooden stairs when you hear it. Pounding footsteps and a low British tone. Shepherd was stupid enough to trail behind you, and even stupider to stop at the noises as well. That’s when your years of self-defense classes with Johnny kick in, quite literally. 

You aim a kick to his head. He dodges, of course, but all that body mass has to go somewhere, and quite slowly. It knocks him off balance, a half-step down, giving you enough leverage to elbow the nose. One of the most sensitive places on a man, as Johnny told you. The door above you opens as Shepherd gets one more insult in as he goes down.

“Fuckin’ bastard.”

-

Yes i was thinking of the 21 savage song snitches and rats

Also sorry for comparing motherhood to torture i just really needed to justify reader peeing LOL

Oops shes a girlboss SORRYYYYYY

-

@heretoreadanddrinktea

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[jinwoosbabyboo]

Sick & Tired

How I imagine the LADS Men take care of you when you're sick [requested by: depressed but well dressed anon]

𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

ready and willing to take care of you, but also is in his ‘I told you so’ era because he knew you’d end up getting sick

will do everything and anything you tell him

would let you lay on his shoulder or in his lap while you nap

even though he’s with you constantly to take care of you he somehow manages to not get sick

brings you medicine and a glass of water

cooks you homemade soup and will feed you if you let him

depending on how sick you are he would take time off from work to look after you

for my girlies who cry a little when they dont feel good he would wipe your tears for you “Don’t cry this sickness is only temporary”

if hes still working he’ll always try to be there until you fall asleep and rushes home to you

leaves soup in the fridge for you when he’s not there

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

teases you for getting sick until he realizes youre sad “Aw cutie are you not feeling well?” “I hate it here” “Tell me what you need”

Doesn’t want to get sick so yes he’d bring you whatever you ask for but he’s wearing a mask and gloves ; avoids kisses “once you’re no longer contagious I'll give you a kiss”

doesn’t mind telling you stories or humming you songs to get you to sleep

would feed you, but be prepared to never hear the end of it “You’re just a sick girl who needs my help in your time of need I know I know my services are impeccable” “Can I have my tea now?”

mocks and teases you when you get fussy about anything “I can’t stand you” “Good thing you’re laying down then huh?”

gets sick anyway because his dumbass would eat off your spoon/fork or drink something of yours

you two end up sick in bed together and he’s even more whiny now

lots of cuddles and kisses now since he got himself sick

doom scrolls with you while laying in your lap

Thomas has to come and take care of the two of you

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

I wouldn't be me if I didn’t say it ; PAGING NURSE XAVIER

he’s at your side in a split second

so excited to have free reign in your kitchen ; immediately tries to make you soup and burns the pot

blows the kitchen up in your house/apartment ends up having to take care of you at his place

finally orders you soup and medicine after you cried because you didn’t want his cooking

he sleeps when you sleep

constantly checking your temperature

doesn’t mind carrying you around the house he knows you can walk, but he likes having you draped over him

blows your nose for you ; puts the tissue to your nose “Blow.” “Thats what she said” “…..your snot is dripping please blow”

sore throat? he’s right there daily with a spoonful of honey “Here its good for you”

can easily handle you when you get fussy about taking medicine “That was quite the tantrum” as he shoves the medicine in your mouth

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

already knew you were coming down with something he already has everything ready to go

picks you up and takes you to his place ;has his chef prepare home remedies tailored just for you

brings you everything himself ; you also have the twins at your disposal

sits bedside and encourages you to eat as much as you can “take two more bites and then you can go back to sleep”

still tries to kiss you even though you’re sick because he doesn’t give a damn “Sylus I'll get you sick stop” steals a kiss here and there anyway ; gets sick like two weeks later

wipes and blows your nose for you “You look like a sick kitten” “Shut it”

doesn’t care when you get fussy about taking medicine “Are you done? Good. Here.”

if you want to stay in bed all day thats fine ; if you want to cling to him like a Koala around the house thats fine too he’ll carry you

lets you sleep on him and steal his warmth

checks your breathing when you sleep longer than usual

leaves the twins to keep an eye on you if he needs to step out ; leaves Mephisto to watch you if he needs to take the twins with him

the type to give you a massage even if you’re not having body aches

𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚋

is already at your doorstep with groceries and medicine

keeps you close to him and in sight at all times

your personal chef truly ; he’s wrapping you in a blanket and laying you on the couch while he makes you something to eat

checks your temperature regularly ; gives you medicine like clockwork

spoon feeds you so you don’t have to lift a finger

reminds you that you don’t need to thank him ; he’ll always take care of you no matter what

cuddles you while you sleep after cleaning your place ; puts a humidifier in your room if you’re congested

tries to make you laugh so you’re not sad ; reminds you that he’ll always be there for you so no need to be sad

wipes and blows your nose for you “Your scrunched up face is adorable”

teases you if you ask for a massage if you’re having body aches ; of course he’s overjoyed to do it though “You know I'll give you a massage whenever you want”

says he won’t kiss you while your sick ; ends up kissing you out of habit and gets a little sick “Now it’s your turn to take care of me”

[leomonae]

Exactly. Like, has anyone in that vehicle ever owned a standard domestic cat? Because over the course of my life I've had maybe a dozen of various temperaments, and nearly every one of them at some point did some fairly significant damage. 95% of the time it was wholly unintentional (6 month old cat wriggles out of my arms and lands on my foot with claws out -> permanent scars, 19yo cat has a seizure that starts when she's asleep on top of me -> not much I can do besides try to keep her from falling while I'm being scratched to hell in the process, etc etc), but what they are trying to do doesn't change the results. And despite how I am a pretty damn experienced cat owner who is good at picking up on subtle "you need to stop/back off asap" indications by now... that 5% where I miss those - or something just annoys kitty enough to lash out and let that be how they warn me to back off - still happens. That's just how cats work.

Someone is 100% going to end up mauled and/or killed by a lion at whatever idiotic, breathtakingly reckless place is allowing this bullshit >:(

If this is how I die then so be it

[lnfours]

focal point ☆ chapter 6 | l.n

summary: 'she was like a shot of espresso' - andrew garfield (but also lando norris)

warnings: art student!reader, best friend/college student!oscar, college student!lando, slight enemies to lovers!au, slight grumpy x sunshine, language, finally finding out who lily's chem guy is (!!!!!), fluff to the max for our lovebirds (we're finally getting somewhere)

message from jordan: 2 chapters in one week?? who am i??? also life without f1 is so boring can we put these cars on track already 😩😩😩

series masterlist | listen to the playlist

"can you sit still for just five seconds?"

"i am!" he laughed softly, now used to the way your hands had repositioned his head to go back to the pose he had been holding.

"well, try harder." you laughed back at him, causing him to shake his head. the two of you had been at this for about two hours now, the room filled with giggles, small talk, and the low music playing from his laptop.

"let's take a break, yeah?"

you nodded, "yeah, sounds good."

you placed your project down and are taking it in for a moment. you were proud of the outcome you had so far. it was looking far better than you had imagined it to be.

but nearing the end of your project, and nearing the date of his econ exam made an unsettling feeling arise. were the two of you just going to stop hanging out after all this? when you both got what you wanted?

you used to pray for that day to come quick, but now you didn't want it to come at all.

you stretched out on the mattress, letting out a soft sigh as your body loosened from the previous position you had been sitting in for far too long. he leaned over to check the time on his phone, "you hungry? i can order us something,"

you hummed, hugging a pillow against your chest, laying on your tummy, "'m down for whatever."

"pizza?" he asked and when you twisted your face he hummed, "mm, thai? italian?”

“you like sushi?” you asked and the face you received as an answer, let’s just say he was more than offended. you laughed as he looked at you like you had three heads, “i’ll take that as a ‘no’ then?”

“it’s an ‘absolutely fucking not’,” he laughed with you, “you like eating raw fish? what’s wrong with you?”

“have you ever even tried it?” you asked, a small amusing smile on your face.

“i know i don’t like fish, so no need to try it.”

“what about the ones with crab? or shrimp?”

“yeah, but they’re near a fish!”

“oh my god,” you laughed, “okay, fine, sushi is off the table.”

the two of you went back and forth trying to decide what to order before finally settling on something as he placed the order on his phone.

"wait! let me grab my card," you said, leaning over the mattress with your torso hanging off as you fished around for your wallet inside your bag.

"no, i've got it," he replied.

"you paid for our breakfast last time!" you huffed, sitting back up with your card in hand, but he wouldn't take it no matter how many times you tried to shove it in his hand, "just take my card."

you watched as he tapped on his phone with a smirk, clearly not listening to you. when you tried to take the phone away from him, he just kept lifting it higher out of your reach, which made you pout and fold your arms.

accepting defeat was something you weren't necessarily fond of.

you hadn't noticed the fact that your legs had managed to straddle his hips, or the fact that his free hand was holding onto your hip, fingers pressing into the slightly exposed skin due to your t-shirt riding up in effort to get the phone from him.

he smiled and placed the phone down on the mattress, "should be here soon,"

"at least let me venmo you," you sighed and he shook his head.

"don't want your money."

"lando,"

"okay, fine, how about you get my coffee the next time we study. how's that?"

you nodded, satisfied with the fact that he let you pay for something, even if it was just for his double shot of espresso over ice.

you bit down on your bottom lip, now fully aware how awkward the position you were in was. he was trying not to think about it, too. sure, maybe he was looking way too hard for way too long at the features on your face, but he couldn't help it. you were the most beautiful thing on earth to him.

you were like a shot of espresso or being bathed in sunlight. he hadn't really believed in love at first sight until he met you.

"you have an eyelash," he gestured to your cheek. you reached up to wipe it away, but he chuckled softly and shook his head.

"missed it," he said, gently reaching up to your cheek, "'ve got it,"

your breathing slowed as he swiped his thumb against your cheek gently, holding out his thumb to you instead of just shaking off the eyelash like normal. you sent him a confused look.

"make a wish,"

you hummed, thinking of something to wish for. all that you could think of was him. the same guy who unexpectedly plagued your mind and took over your dreams.

now he was taking over your wishes.

you gently blew on the eyelash, laughing softly after. you had realized his hand never fell back to his side, instead it reached out to your cheek cautiously.

you leaned into his touch, smiling down at him which got you one of those smiles that made your heart clench in return. no matter how many times he had smiled at you, each time it made you giddy inside.

"y/n," his voice was low, scared to speak up, almost like it would startle you if he spoke above a whisper.

god, you loved the way he said your name.

"yeah?"

"please tell me you feel this too," he said, his eyes searching yours for any sign to be a silent tell that you've been wanting this as long as he has, as much as him, "whatever this is between us."

you nodded, "i do,"

a soft breath of relief came from his nose, but the tension was still thick enough to cut through with a knife, "can i kiss you?"

you nodded again, whispering back to him, "please."

he didn't waste a single second after, his lips meeting yours. he poured every single ounce of pining and longing as he could into the kiss and you reciprocated it right back.

you hummed when he pulled you closer against his body, leaving no room for air between the two of you, your hands wrapping around his neck and playing with the soft curls at the nape of his neck. the same ones you had imagined running your fingers through.

you only pulled away due to the lack of air in your lungs, the both of you smiling against each other's lips and your noses bumping.

"'ve been wanting to do that for so long." he mumbled and you giggled, smiling so hard you were sure your cheeks were going to hurt by the end of the night.

you brushed over his now wild curls, flattening them out with your fingers. you bit down on your lower lip, stopping yourself from laughing at the fact the curls only got wilder, "i might've just made it worse,"

he shrugged, shaking his head with not a single care in the world, his lips coming back to brush against yours, "don't care,"

you laughed into his lips, kissing him once more. and again. and maybe again.

and so many times you lost count.

that was, until the door to the apartment closing made the two of you seperate. the slam of the door was followed by a pair of familiar voices.

"oscar?" you asked, you and lando listening to the conversation in the other room.

he nodded, "yeah, but i can barely hear the other person."

then there was a laugh, a laugh you could've recognized anywhere. the high-pitched noise was engraved in your brain and it only belonged to one person.

you hit his shoulder and he raised an eyebrow, "what? he's just invited a girl over?"

"not just a girl," you said, "we called it! at the diner the other day!"

he looked at you, eyebrows furrowed, clearly not following what you were saying.

until, it all clicked.

"oh, no way!" he said and you nodded.

"it's lily!"

[leighsartworks216]

Meeting the Parents

Sylus x gn!Reader

Inspired by this post by @yes-no-maybe-soo

Dialogue taken straight from his tete-a-tete introduction with some stuff removed for the story

Warnings: hurt/comfort, domestic fluff, established relationship, death, cemetery, anxiety, lies of omission, cuddling, kissing, crying

Word Count: 1,564

Main Masterlist

First - Second - Third LADS Masterlists

AO3

Tag List Form

“Sy?”

“Hm? What is it, sweetie?”

You play with his fingers where they lay over your stomach. His body is sculpted to fit perfectly along your back, strong arms holding you securely, protectively, as you’re just waking up and he’s supposed to be going to bed.

You bite your lip, grateful that he can’t see your face or the warring thoughts blatantly expressed on it. “Would you want to meet my parents?”

He presses closer - if such a thing is even possible - tucking his face into your shoulder where he plants lazy kisses. “Why are you asking me about this now?”

“Well, Tara got a new boyfriend and she was telling me about how important meeting the parents can be,” you admit slowly. She’d gushed about it for an entire lunch break, in fact. Rambling on and on about how meeting his parents went, and how her parents just love him, and how big of a step it is in a relationship. ‘The most important step!’ she’d emphasized. It weighed on your mind since. “And I just thought… maybe you’d want to meet mine?”

There’s no way he doesn’t hear your heart racing in your chest. It’s impossible for him to miss the nervousness in your fiddling with his fingers, or the subconscious way you stretch out your legs to tangle with his. But if he does notice any of it, he says nothing.

He kisses over your pulse, intertwines your fingers, and hooks his leg over your hip, as though this is nothing more than a lazy Sunday morning.

“I’d be honored to meet them,” he whispers, soft and tender in a voice reserved just for you.

“Today?”

He chuckles warmly. “If that’s what you want, sure.”

You squeeze his hand, then pull it tighter around you, holding it to your chest like a plushie you’ve decided to cuddle. “You should get some sleep, first. We can visit them for lunch.”

“Oh? Are they already expecting me?”

“No… but they never mind visitors.”

He hums, a low sound that rumbles in his chest, and buries his face into your warm skin. “Whatever you say, kitten…”

His snores fill the air a moment later.

-

Sylus takes meeting your parents more seriously than you thought he would. He took a shower before you, and when you came out, he was meticulously going through his wardrobe to find the perfect outfit. Nothing too flashy, but nothing too casual - something suited for setting up a good first impression. A towel is still around his shoulders, hair dripping onto it in his focus. It brings some much needed levity into your aching heart.

“Sit down,” you chide him. He does so with a knowing smirk, but it droops back into a frown as he thinks on his options.

“Which shirt do you think?” he asks. You fluff the towel over his hair, squeezing out the water soaked into the thicker sections of his locks. Once it’s dried enough, you comb your fingers through his hair to brush it out. He’ll style it himself, of course, but you love feeling it so wild and unrestrained like this.

You look up at the two shirts hanging up side by side in the closet. His collared-shirt red-sweater combo on one side, or his simple white shirt. Both are casual, put together. A softer appearance compared to his usual black attire. He could choose either - they’re perfect for coming off as disarming and charming without flaunting his wealth - but he’s asking you.

You hug him around his neck from behind. “What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

You shake your head. “Nothing.” Still, you linger a moment longer before you pull away with a kiss to his cheek. “The red one. It’s my favorite.”

“The red one it is.”

-

You offered to drive this time. Unusual, given his proclivity for driving you anywhere you could ever want to go, but you play it off as it being in Linkon, your territory. He teased you lightly, but passed over the keys without a fuss. If you wanted to be the one to drive him to meet your parents, that’s your right.

After having to majorly adjust the driver’s side seat to account for your height, the drive itself is simple. Familiar. You know the way like Sylus knows his armories. Though, you know you can’t play it off forever. In just a few short miles, the ruse will be up. You tap along the steering wheel. How much longer before he figures it out? Or, if he already knows, before he says something about it?

You pull the car into the gravel parking lot and cut the ignition. You shyly look to the passenger side. Sylus looks straight ahead through the windshield, brows pulled together in a frown.

“Sweetie…”

You get out of the car before he can say anything else. Before he can back out. Look at you like you’re crazy or like you’ve betrayed him for keeping this a secret for so long. His door shuts a moment after yours. The small rocks shift under his nice shoes as he rounds the car. You don’t look at his face as you take his hand in yours and lead him through the big wrought-iron gate.

Rows upon rows of headstones, statues, slabs cover the area. Carefully tended grass peeks up in the spaces between. A path is formed from foot-traffic alone, guiding you deeper into the cemetery like a gentle hand on your shoulder. You know the way by now.

The wind blows through, the birds chirp their songs, the noise of the cars is distant… It’s peaceful. Sylus says nothing. You pretend to focus on the stones by your side to avoid looking at him.

You curse Tara for planting this idea in your head in the first place.

Soon enough, you slow to a stop in front of a wide headstone. Two names are engraved on it. Four dates. And a message. You picked it out just for them.

The silence grows unbearable. Hot. You wish you could sink into the ground, where hundreds of hands could hold and assure you. Where Sylus can’t see the tension in your shoulders as you anticipate him leaving.

He squeezes your hand. For the first time since arriving, you look at him, watching as he kneels down in front of the granite stone. And… he’s smiling. The furrow in his brow is gone. He looks at ease.

“Are you their parents? I’m Sylus. I’m your child’s boyfriend,” he introduces himself. He says it all like he’s talking to them. Speaking directly to your parents just before an awkward family dinner. “I run a family-owned business that covers a range of services and offers various products. We deliver fruit and even sell state-of-the-art technology, for example. My business has been doing well, and I work with a lot of talented individuals. If you’re interested, I’d be happy to discuss it in more detail another time.”

You slowly sink down to your knees beside him. You can’t stop staring at his face.

“My hobbies are very simple. I collect vinyl records, play the organ, and occasionally sing. According to your child, my singing isn’t too bad.” He looks at you, shooting you a playful wink. Your vision starts to blur. He turns back to the stone.

“I live alone and I have a relatively flexible schedule. I stay at my base most of the time. Otherwise, I’m in a hotel for business meetings or go to my private ranch when I need to unwind. I own several beautiful horses, and one of them has grown particularly fond of them. The two of them often frolic together at the ranch.” In that same soft voice reserved just for you, he says, “I like seeing them be carefree and happy.”

The first tears break free with a choked sound. He lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders, drawing you into his side. You hug his waist tightly.

“While it might not be obvious at first glance, I’m very good at taking care of people. Because of our time together, I developed new interests. I enjoy taking them to auctions and fashion shows.” He draws you in a little tighter, but his attention remains on the names before him. “I like seeing them shine. And their happiness is my happiness.

“As for the future…” He speaks with conviction, as though trying to fully prove to your parents his worth as your boyfriend. “I’ll always support them with whatever they want to do. I’ll also stand by their side without question.”

You press your face in his chest. He shifts on his knees to face you, wrapping his other arm around you in a full hug. He presses a gentle kiss to your head.

“How did I do?” he whispers.

You sob. It’s ugly and gross. Your chin wobbles and your face contorts as tears stream in an endless tirade, soaking into his sweater. His large hand rubs up and down your back patiently. Your voice cracks as you croak out, “They would’ve loved you…”

He ducks his head down, pressing his cheek to yours. Sweet kisses brush away your tears. “I’m sure I would have loved them, too,” he assures. And you know he isn’t lying. “Just breathe, sweetie. I’ve got you. I’ve got you…”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0

[syluslnd]

Hooray!! Your request are open again 🎉🎉 I absolutely adore your works. It's a chef kiss 😩🤌

Anyway, my request is Sylus bought a cabin in the woods to surprise reader. Just for two things, first reader really needs a break because she's been working way too much. And two, Sylus wants to "make love" with her and to hear her scream.

(Go crazy on how you want to write it. Thank you! I hope you understand what I mean right 😉😉)

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

The drive through the woods had been long but the moment you arrived, you understood why Sylus had kept this place a secret.

The house was beautiful-elegant yet secluded, nestled deep in the forest where no one else could reach. Tall windows framed the landscape, letting in the golden glow of the evening sun. Everything was silent except for the faint rustling of trees, the scent of pine and fresh air filling your lungs.

"Sylus this is... incredible" you murmured, stepping through the grand entrance. The floors gleamed under the soft lighting and everything about the interior screamed luxurious, carefully curated and undeniably intentional.

Sylus shut the door behind you, his presence unmistakable even before he spoke. "I knew you'd like it" he said, his voice smooth as he stepped closer. "A private getaway,just for us."

There was something in his tone— something knowing.

You didn't catch onto it at first, too mesmerized by the sheer elegance of the space. But then, your eyes caught something unexpected. Rose petals.

Scattered along the pristine floor, creating a path deeper into the house.

Your breath hitched slightly.

Sylus smirked, clearly noticing your reaction.

"Go on sweetie" he murmured, nudging you forward.

"Follow them."

Your heart pounded as you slowly walked down the petal-covered path, leading you toward what you now realized was a bedroom.

And that's when it clicked.

This wasn't just a getaway.

It was his plan all along.

The bedroom was breathtaking-grand, with a massive bed draped in silk sheets. But what truly made you pause were the other details— a blindfold resting on the pillows, delicate ropes placed neatly on the bedside table and a selection of items you couldn't even process all at once.

Your entire body flushed with heat.

"You planned this" you accused softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sylus finally stepped in behind you, his hands settling on your waist, his breath warm against your ear. "Of course I did" he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

"Did you really think I brought you all the way out here just for the scenery?"

You swallowed, heat curling in your stomach as he slowly turned you around to face him.

His crimson eyes held that unmistakable glint-the one that told you there was no escaping whatever he had in store.

"You're being quiet" Sylus teased, tilting his head as he studied your flustered expression. "Shy all of a sudden?"

You opened your mouth to protest but Sylus simply took control before you could even attempt to regain composure.

He took your chin between his fingers, tilting your face up to meet his intense gaze. "No need to act innocent now” he murmured.

"You know exactly what this is."

His other hand trailed down your arm, his fingertips brushing over your skin in a way that made you shiver.

"Sylus..." you started, your voice breathy, unsure whether you were trying to object or encourage him.

His smirk deepened. "That's not a no" he mused.

Before you could speak again, he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you toward the bed like you weighed nothing. Your heart pounded as he placed you down onto the silk sheets, his figure towering over you.

His hands moved with purpose-tracing down your arms, reaching for the soft ropes he had so meticulously prepared on the table next to the bed. "I think" he mused, his voice laced with amusement,

"that it's about time I show you just how much fun we're going to have in this little hideaway."

Your breath hitched as he reached for the blindfold, his touch slow and deliberate.

"Be good for me” he murmured, voice dark with promise.

And then, just like that, control slipped from your hands entirely.

The silk of the blindfold pressed against your skin, shrouding your world in darkness. Your breath came slow and uneven, heart hammering in anticipation as Sylus secured it in place.

Then—a click.

Something cold slipped around your wrist.

Metal.

You flinched slightly at the sensation, instinctively tugging but your movement was met with resistance.

Handcuffs.

A soft, breathy giggle escaped you—a nervous reaction you hadn't meant to let out.

Sylus chuckled darkly in response. "That was a cute sound” he mused. "Are you nervous already?"

You swallowed hard, unsure whether to answer. Not that it mattered. He already knew.

Your other wrist met the same fate—a second click, binding you completely. The cold bite of metal against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat pooling in your stomach.

Sylus took his time adjusting the cuffs, making sure they were snug but not painful.

Purposeful. Precise. He wanted you to feel every ounce of control he had over you.

"You trust me, don't you?" he murmured.

His tone was dangerous-not in a way that suggested harm, but in a way that warned you. You belonged to him now, and he was going to remind you of that in ways you couldn't yet fathom.

You nodded slowly.

His fingers trailed down your arm, the barest whisper of touch, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Good” he praised, his voice smooth as silk. "Then don't fight me."

Your breath caught as the mattress dipped he was leaning over you now, his presence all-consuming.

Then-something else.

Something soft but sturdy brushed against your thigh. Fabric?

The sound of something unrolling reached your ears before you felt it.

Silk restraints.

A sharp inhale escaped you as he secured one to your ankle. His fingers grazed your skin, lingering longer than necessary, teasing, making sure you felt every moment of your surrender.

He took his time. Meticulous. Unhurried. In control.

"You're awfully quiet now" Sylus murmured, his voice filled with dark amusement.

"Where's that little attitude of yours?"

Your lips parted but before you could say a word, he did something unexpected.

A soft, cool sensation trailed across your collarbone, lower, lower

ice

you don’t know where he got it from,if it was his evol or if he had those specifically chilled and ready for you there,like it was his plan all along

everything perfectly calculated for you

A shiver wracked through your body as Sylus dragged the melting cube along your skin, tracing slow patterns, watching your every reaction. The contrast of cold against heat made you gasp, your back arching involuntarily.

He hummed in approval.

"You're too sensitive" he teased, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "I like that."

He let the ice melt a bit against your skin before pressing his lips to your collarbone , replacing the sting of cold with the warmth of his mouth.

You sucked in a sharp breath, bound, blindfolded and completely at his mercy only intensified everything

Sylus chuckled softly, fingers trailing dangerously close to where he knew you wanted his touch the most-but deliberately avoiding it.

"You're mine" he murmured, his voice dark with possession. "and I think it's about time you start understanding what that truly means."

And with that, the real torment began.

he placed the ice on your stomach

the ice was melting, sending thin rivulets of cold water down your skin, yet Sylus took his time. Dragging. Teasing. Lingering.

"You're shaking”he murmured, amusement thick in his voice. "Too cold? Or is this little girl just too sensitive?"

You didn't answer but your breath hitched as he traced the ice lower, skimming along your ribs. The contrast of frigid cold against your overheated skin made your entire body tense but you couldn’t move-not with his silk restraints keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

Sylus hummed in satisfaction. "So reactive” he mused. "You weren't this quiet earlier."

Your lips parted but before you could protest, he did something cruel.

The ice cube-nearly gone now-dragged over the softest part of your stomach,near your bellybutton making you jerk against the restraints.

A sharp inhale escaped you and Sylus laughed.

"Look at you" he mocked, shifting to brush his lips against your ear, his voice nothing but a dark whisper. "So helpless. So at my mercy."

Your pulse thundered beneath your skin.

Then, he did it again—a deliberate, icy stroke into your bellybutton, followed by the sudden, searing warmth of his tongue as he chased away the cold.

You whimpered, the combination almost unbearable.

"Poor thing" Sylus crooned, his voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Did that feel too good?"

You turned your head away, refusing to answer but that only made his smirk sharpen.

"Oh?" He chuckled, pressing a teasing kiss to the edge of your jaw. "You're trying to be defiant now? How adorable."

You felt his fingers skim along your side near your ribs, featherlight, teasing you without ever giving you what you truly craved.

"Don't pout” he murmured. "You should've known what would happen the moment you let me tie you up, sweetheart."

His hand drifted lower, fingertips just barely grazing the inside of your thigh before pulling away. You shivered-from the loss, from the anticipation, from the overwhelming awareness that he was in complete control.

"You want more, don't you?" Sylus whispered. "I can hear it in your breathing."

You swallowed hard, heart pounding in your ears.

His hand returned, this time squeezing your thigh firmly, his nails grazing your skin.

"Beg” he ordered, voice smooth but commanding. "Or l'll leave you here like this, desperate and untouched."

Your breath hitched—the threat wasn't empty.

Sylus never bluffed.

You knew that if you refused, he'd make good on his word and leave you aching, craving, unsatisfied.

'Please” you whispered, barely audible.

Sylus tilted his head. "That was pathetic" he drawled. "You can do better than that."

You clenched your jaw, heat rushing to your face.

Sylus smirked, leaning in until his lips brushed against your ear. "Beg. Properly."

Your stomach twisted in both humiliation and desire. He was enjoying this— stretching the moment, testing you, making you surrender inch by inch.

"Please, Sylus" you finally said, voice unsteady.

His fingers dug into your thigh, just enough to make you gasp.

"Good girl" he murmured, satisfaction lacing his tone. "Now let's see how much more you can take."

And with that, the ice drifted even lower.

Sylus held the last sliver of melting ice between his fingers, tilting his head as he watched you. Bound, blindfolded, completely at his mercy-just the way he liked you.

You shivered, not just from the cold but from the sheer anticipation.

"You're trembling” he mused, his tone dripping with satisfaction. "Are you scared?

Or just that sensitive?"

You bit your lip, refusing to answer.

Sylus chuckled darkly. "Still trying to act defiant? That's cute."

You gasped as he suddenly pressed the ice against your pussy, the shock of cold making you jerk against the restraints.

"Careful" he warned, his grip tightening around your leg, keeping you still. "Unless you want me to punish you for squirming."

The ice dragged upward, inch by torturous inch. Too slow. Too deliberate.

Too much.

Your breath hitched as he reached your clit, lingering there just to watch you squirm.

Sylus hummed in amusement. "You're shaking so much” he teased. "and I haven't even started."

He traced slow, agonizing circles with the ice, making sure the chill seeped into your skin, making you hyperaware of every movement.

Then-he pressed his lips directly on your clit,leaving slow warm kisses

The sudden warmth of his mouth contrasted sharply with the lingering cold, making you gasp.

Sylus chuckled against your pussy, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Poor thing" he mocked, nipping at your thigh. "I bet you don't even know whether to pull away or beg for more."

You whimpered, your body betraying you.

His free hand traced lazily over your other thigh, nails grazing just enough to make your breath catch.

"You're so responsive” he mused, almost to himself. "Every little touch, every little tease and you're already falling apart."

He pressed the last remnant of ice directly against your clit all while leaving slimy deliberate kisses on your inner thigh

Your whole body tensed, a choked gasp slipping past your lips.

Sylus smirked, watching you struggle. "You want me to stop?" he asked, a mockery of concern in his voice. "Or do you want more?"

You hesitated—a mistake.

Sylus clicked his tongue. "Ah. I see."

Before you could react, he pressed the ice even deeper this time,no longer harassing your clit but now sending shockwaves of cold to the inside of your warm vagina

The melting water dripped, sending chills through your already overstimulated nerves.

You jerked, instinctively trying to close your legs-but Sylus's iron grip stopped you.

"Ah, ah” he murmured, spreading you wider instead. "No running now, sweetheart."

You whimpered, your body betraying you again.

Sylus leaned in, lips grazing your ear. "You should know by now” he murmured, voice dark with amusement. "I don't stop until I'm satisfied."

[darnell-la]

I just saw a post where they mentioned what if Logan mocked your moans while he fingered you, or was doing anything really. It seems like it would feel silly coming from him but also so perfectly degrading

summary: y/n had always had a crush on Logan. not the worst Logan, but her timeline Logan. sadly, he died, and now she was stuck with this variant Wade had brought back home. sharing an apartment with an asshole was bad enough, but sharing one with an attractive, cocky, asshole, was far worse. especially when he knew how he made you feel.

note: this story will be the worst Logan. as always, he’s grumpy, and just an open asshole who thinks he’s better than the people he’s around.

———

“Who do you think you are?” Y/n looked up into the man’s eyes with anger, upset that he wouldn’t let her leave the apartment to go out with her friends. She goes out every weekend, and every weekend, he tries to stop her.

“Wade’s gone, and you’re out again — What are you hiding, y/n?” Logan asked, knowing whatever she did was none of her business. “I’m the legal age to drink and club, and you’re in my business about it? — Let me go,” y/n tried taking her arm away.

“You don’t pay for the bills here. Wade does, and-“ Logan tried making up some story about how disrespectful she would be to do what she wants. “And, Wade doesn’t give a shit. What now? I’m a grown woman. I could have a whole family if I wanted to, and you’re trying to trap me in the apartment like I’m some teen,”

“You don’t need to be out there, y/n,” Logan said, knowing what she goes out there for. He couldn’t stand it. Usually, when he teased women and they played hard to get, they didn’t just go out and party. Y/n did, and he couldn’t handle that.

“Get off of me, or I burn you,” y/n threatened as her body temperature heartened. “I’ll heal, and I don’t think you want to deal with me after I do,” Logan threatened as he moved his face inches from hers.

Within seconds, the man let go of how hot her skin was getting. Y/n instantly turned around and left to get out and away from the man who was trying his best to control her.

Fast-forward several hours, y/n finally returned from the nightclub she had attended with her lady friends. Many hours of drinking and plenty of hours of kissing random men had accrued that night.

That only made Logan’s blood boil as he watched every second of it pass by. He debated on lashing out at her every time she went to the bathroom, but when she went, she was always with a girl-friend.

The older man had to suffer for hours as the woman he’d been dying to have, had been kissing other men.

He couldn’t understand why y/n was so stuck up. Last he checked, women lived them rude and cocky. What happened in this timeline?

“Finally home,” Logan spoke in the corner of the darkroom as y/n stumbled into the apartment. She instantly rolled her eyes and sighed as she kicked off her shoes, barely being able to open her eyes or stand correctly.

“Gonna at least speak to me? Or are you too pissy drunk?” Logan asked, knowing which one it was. “That’s what I thought,” the man shook his head as he got up to walk toward her, but she paid no attention and made her way to her room.

“You didn’t even lock the door!” Logan shouted after her, but she ignored him, barely able to think about anything that was happening around her. Once she left the club with loud music, that was it for her.

Logan locked the front door and straightened up the shoes she kicked off on the front mat before he made his way toward her room. The man went to open her door, but she had locked it to shut him out for the night.

Logan sat in his room for a good hour, thinking about the way he should handle y/n. Should he kick her door down and yell at her? Should he talk to her from outside of her room? Should he wait to bring it up tomorrow? Or should he never speak of tonight?

Through the hour, he also thought about those men she let touch all over her and explore her mouth. He swore he’s never been too pissed off about a woman in his life.

It’s almost like she knew he was there to rub it in his face, and if that was the case, and he were to ever find out, he wouldn’t know how far he’d get upset.

All the men she kissed tonight waited for her, like some dog. It’s like Logan could see them a mile away. Why did she choose them, and not him? Logan was the real man here, not them.

“Fuck that,” Logan growled low as he pushed off of his bed and made his way out of his room. The man walked down the small hall before kicking y/n’s door open, causing her to jolt a bit in her sleep.

“Get up,” Logan demanded, but she barely understood him. She was still drunk, and now half asleep and in her dream. “What?” Y/n asked low as she saw the huge man make his way towards her.

“Up!” Logan demanded again before he ripped her cover off. “Hey-“ y/n went to say before Logan grabbed and pulled her up until she was seated in her bed. “Logan, what’s the deal?” Y/n asked, always irritated as he shifted her bottom to the edge of the bed.

“I want you to tell me if they mattered,” Logan spoke, only confused y/n. “What-“ y/n tried saying before Logan ripped her panties off. She had only worse panties and a bra to sleep in tonight instead of a nightgown like she usually wears. She was far too drunk to go through her drawers and find one.

“Hey,” y/n said as she went to push Logan’s fingers away that she rubbed across her heat. “You’re not even wet — They couldn’t have been that good, then,” Logan’s delusion fully kicked in before he stuck to fingers deep into y/n’s mouth.

Y/n tried pulling away and shaking her head, but Logan continued until his fingers were soaked with her saliva.

“Don’t bitch if it goes in dry then,” Logan said before he pushed two fingers at her entrance. “Hey, no-“ y/n went to stop him, but her voice cracked out as her hands stayed in shock right next to her thighs.

The young lady gripped her sheets as Logan curled his two fingers inside of her. “At least you’re empty — Maybe you’re not such a slut after all,” Logan said as y/n whined at the instant feeling of her stomach tightening.

“Aw, what’s wrong? Am I too big? — Fuck, I haven’t even put my dick in you yet,” Logan chuckled as he began to push his fingers in and out of her heat, focusing on her moans and the way she gripped around him.

“L-Lo-L-Lo,” y/n stuttered as she tried her best to keep herself up. “Lo-Lo-Lo — Fucking pathetic,” Logan mocked the girl as he looked into her eyes. She could barely hold them open as Logan played inside of her.

“No more,” y/n cried low as she felt herself near, upset that she wasn’t pushing the man off. She was strong enough to get rid of Logan, but something in her didn’t want him to stop this.

“You didn’t tell those little boys to stop — What makes you think I’ll fucking stop? Huh? — Ian stoppin’ princess,” Logan assured y/n, only making her roll her eyes, fully turned on by the way he was treating her.

For so long, y/n has been waiting for Logan to show just how cocky and asshole-like he could get. Finally, tonight, he decided to let it out.

With her being drunk, she couldn’t love this even more. There was nothing she could do about the way she was about to gush all over him.

“I’m gonna cum,” y/n said low as she fell back onto her mattress, getting ready to give Logan what he was trying so desperately to get from her. “There you go — Relax that body — Give it to me, Bub,” and with that, she did.

Y/n’s body locked up for a few seconds before shaking. Logan couldn’t help but laugh at her to taunt the way she got because of him. “Look at how I get you,”

Logan licked himself after he pulled out of y/n, making sure to get a treat for himself. That had triggered his mind to pick her up and take her to his room to continue eating her out.

“Get those fucking hands away from me, or I’ll make you count till ten,” Logan threatened after y/n tried pushing his head away from her heat. “No more — Please,” y/n begged the man as she took deep gasps.

All Logan did was chuckle into her heat, knowing he had too many more orgasms to go.

[writeriguess]

i love your works and i have a request

bakugou x reader where the reader is the only one who can calm him down? he is arguing with kiri and she only has to look at him to calm him down and everyone is stunned by it

author's note: Thank you <3

Serenity

It was a normal day at U.A., or at least as normal as it could get with Class 1-A. Training had gone well enough, and everyone was winding down, gathering in the common room after dinner. That peace, however, didn’t last long—because Katsuki Bakugou and Eijiro Kirishima were at each other’s throats.

Again.

“You’re so damn stubborn, Bakugou!” Kirishima snapped, his usual easygoing demeanor nowhere to be found. His sharp teeth bared slightly, frustration clear in the way his brows furrowed. “Why can’t you just let someone help you once in a while?”

“I don’t fucking need help!” Bakugou growled, hands twitching at his sides as small explosions crackled from his palms. His crimson eyes burned with intensity, shoulders tense and jaw clenched. “I’m not some weakling who needs to be babysat, shitty hair!”

It wasn’t unusual for Bakugou to get like this. He had a short fuse, and sometimes, even Kirishima’s patience couldn’t keep up. The rest of the class had learned to steer clear when the blond was in one of his moods, but tonight, something felt different. His explosions were sparking closer to the ground, the air crackling with the raw energy of his anger.

“Dude, we’re your friends!” Kirishima pressed on, his voice rising to match Bakugou’s. “We’re not saying you’re weak, but—”

“I don’t need a damn pep talk!” Bakugou interrupted, his voice nearly a roar now. His fists clenched tightly, explosions bursting erratically at his sides. “I—”

You sighed.

You had been sitting on the couch, watching the argument unfold, but now, you decided it had gone on long enough. Without a word, you stood up and stepped between them, placing yourself directly in front of Bakugou.

And then—

You looked at him.

Not with fear. Not with exasperation. Just looked at him.

His breath hitched. The tension in his shoulders sagged almost instantly, and the crackling explosions from his hands flickered before fizzling out completely. His hands dropped to his sides, fingers flexing as though searching for something to do now that they weren’t radiating anger. His brows knitted together, his lips parted slightly, and a deep exhale left his chest as if he had been holding it in this whole time.

The entire room went silent.

The rest of Class 1-A exchanged glances, stunned beyond words.

Kirishima blinked, taking half a step back. “Uh… what the hell just happened?” he muttered, looking between you and Bakugou like he had just witnessed an act of sorcery.

“Did… did Y/N just calm Bakugou down?” Kaminari whispered, eyes wide.

“No way…” Mina breathed, leaning forward as if she needed to see it closer to believe it. “That’s impossible.”

Yet, it was happening.

Bakugou, who had been one second away from either blowing up the room or storming off in rage, now stood completely still, his face unreadable. His sharp, furious crimson eyes had softened, the tension in his body had drained away, and the only thing that had changed was that you had looked at him.

You tilted your head slightly, your eyes searching his, waiting for him to say something.

His jaw clenched. Then unclenched. Then, in a voice much quieter than before, he muttered, “Tch. Whatever.”

That was as close to an admission of surrender as anyone would ever get from him.

Your lips curled into the smallest of smiles, and that alone made Bakugou avert his gaze with a scowl, rubbing the back of his neck as if embarrassed.

The silence stretched, thick with disbelief.

Sero was the first to break it. “Holy shit,” he said, staring at you with newfound awe. “That was… insane.”

“Right?” Kaminari agreed, his mouth slightly agape. “I’ve literally never seen Bakugou calm down that fast in my life.”

“You might actually have superpowers,” Mina whispered, completely serious.

“Forget heroes,” Kirishima said, blinking at you. “You might be a damn miracle worker.”

Bakugou clicked his tongue. “Shut up,” he grumbled, though there was no bite to his words. His usual anger had dimmed into something else—something quieter. Something softer.

You simply shrugged, turning back to the couch and sitting down again like nothing had happened. “You guys overreact too much,” you said lightly, leaning back into the cushions.

“We overreact?” Mina scoffed. “You just tamed a whole-ass dragon with one look.”

Kirishima shook his head with a small chuckle. “Man, that was wild.” He crossed his arms, his frustration from before already forgotten. “But hey, at least it worked.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugou grumbled, rubbing his temples. He was still looking at you out of the corner of his eye, like he was trying to figure out exactly how you did what you just did.

The others continued murmuring about it, but you just shot Bakugou a small smirk before focusing back on your phone.

And despite himself, despite all the eyes on him, despite how infuriatingly obvious it was that you had some kind of effect on him—Bakugou didn’t look away.

He just sighed, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and sat down next to you, the tension completely gone.

Like it never existed in the first place.

[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug Like Angel

He gets me so high

ty to that one anon who gave me the idea for this

tecnically this takes place between parts 4 and 5

so i guess this would be part 4.5?

anon ily for givijg me this idea

kind of a short chapter lol

You got into an argument earlier.

It wasn't over anything serious, you don't even remember what it was about.

All you remember is Damian telling you you weren't worthy of being part of his father's bloodline.

That stung a little.

You tried defending yourself and telling the others in hopes of others taking your side.

Only for everyone to take his.

"He's had a hard life," Dick said to you, still looking at Damian.

"So have I!" went unsaid, as you put your head down and looked at the floor.

It isn't fair!

It isn't fair how he walked away Scott free smirking as if he won!

It isn't fair how you were the only one scolded by Alfred and Bruce for arguing!

It isn't fair how you ran to your room to cry!

It isn't fair how you had no one on your side!

You needed someone on your side.

After a while of sobbing on your pillow (which was now wet), you felt your phone buzz and your ringtone go off. You were getting a call from Hobie.

It wasn't rare for him to call you, all of the spider-kids call each other at random times of the day to just talk about whatever.

One time you called them all at 3 am because you thought of a dumb invention that 'could change lives', only for Gwen to tell you it already existed, and didn't change lives.

One time, Miles called you to tell you he got 100 on his physics test.

One time, Hobie called you because he didn't know how long he should cook something in the microwave.

One time, Peni called you to tell you how she accidentally bought 3 copies of the same book. Again.

One time, Gwen called you at 1 am to ask if you could dye her hair again since her hair dye was fading again.

One time, Pavitr called you to ask which Valentine's gift he should give Gayatri since he was stuck between two options. He ended up choosing both gifts for her.

It was normal for everyone to call anyone for any reason.

You tried to wipe your tears and clear your voice so you could pretend you were fine, and you picked up the phone to talk to him.

As soon as you picked up, he started rambling about how his day went.

You didn't mind calling him, it took your mind off things.

Hobie felt something was off. Sure, you were listening to him intently, but you usually had your camera on and played with stupid filters while he talked. You didn't have your camera on like usual.

He decided to not bring it up and just let you tell him when you were ready.

"Anywho, I bought around 54 boxes of Girl Scout cookies-" Hobie said, while holding up a box of Thin Mints to the camera

"why did you buy 54??" you said in disbelief, your voice slightly cracking, which you cringed at.

"Don't worry about it." you laughed a little at that.

"Keep your window open, I'm on my way." you saw him start walking on camera

"Why?" you asked

"Get ready, we're going out," he said while grabbing 5 boxes of the Girl Scout cookies.

He hung up before explaining anything.

You got up from your bed and decided to fix yourself up a bit before he came over.

You redid your makeup because it smeared while you were crying.

After 5 minutes, you heard a knock on your window.

You went to see what it was, and Hobie was knocking at your window looking a little stupid.

You unlocked it and opened the window.

"I thought you were gonna unlock it?" Hobie said already looking around your room and making himself at home.

He and the others have come over a lot, it's somewhat surprising that none of your family noticed.

"I forgot!" you said while shrugging your shoulders. It wasn't a lie, you did forget.

"You're always forgetting, never remembering," Hobie said, lying on your comfy bed.

"Okay so I forget a couple of times and suddenly I'm always forgetful, I dye Gwen's hair and cut my own, does that make me a barber?" you said, dramatically before flopping onto your bed next to Hobie.

"So, what's got you all miffed?" he asked while playing around with a plushie that was on your bed.

"What do you mean?" you sat up to look at him in confusion.

"Miffed: somewhat annoyed; peeved," Hobie explained.

"No, not about what miffed means, I know what that means, but what do you mean?" you asked, tilting your head slightly.

"I mean, you look pissed, what happened?" he asked, while playing around with a volleyball he got from who knows where.

You started fidgeting with your hands. "Well, me and Damian got into an argument earlier. I don't even remember what it was about. He said I wasn't worthy of Bruce's blood. Which honestly did hurt a little. What really pissed me off was how no one took my side. How no one defended me. How no one checked up on me after I ran to my room and cried." A tear ran down your cheek. You couldn't tell if it was from anger or sadness.

Hobie sat up and cleared the tear away from your cheek. "C'mon Tinkerbell, let's get outta here," He said, while getting up and stretching.

"And go where?" you got up as well.

"Anywhere. It's clear everyone here is bonkers." He started walking towards your window.

"Okay, just gimmie a sec!" You ran to grab your wallet and phone and followed him out the window.

You were now atop the bat signal, next to Hobie.

After raiding a gas station for its snacks (which you knew Alfred would never approve of) you guys were just sitting down in silence.

It was pretty nice, you were leaning on Hobie as he lit up what you thought was a cigarette.

Turns out it wasn't. You realized as soon as the smell of weed hit you.

You watched as he passed you the blunt, "Want a hit?"

You hesitated for a moment. What would your family think about this?

Hobie saw you hesitating, and not wanting to make you uncomfortable said "Don't do it if you don't want to."

You decided to do it.

Fuck what your family thinks about this.

Fuck your family. Fuck them all. Fuck Damian, fuck Dick, fuck Jason, fuck Bruce, and fuck Alfred.

They didn't care, they didn't defend you, they don't notice you, why would they notice or care about this?

They were probably dressed in their stupid spandex costumes beating people up.

A long time ago you longed and begged to be one of them.

What is the worst that can happen anyway?

"pass me it."

Hobie then taught you how to do it. It was a bit scary for you, you haven't ever smoked or done weed or anything before.

You took a hit and immediately started coughing.

"You alright there, luv?" You gave him a thumbs up before taking a couple more hits and getting a hang of it.

You guys started devouring the snacks and telling dumb stories.

You fell off due to jumping to the light from the batsignal suddenly turning on and scaring you. You laughed when Hobie had to pick you up from the rooftop.

You could stay like this forever, just you and your big brother.

hi guys heres some fluff and angst

i feel like since writing these silly little stories my writing has gotten a tiny bit better

im not sure tho

anyways anon ty again i loved writing this

taglist(please lmk if i forgot you!):@bath1lda @mariadvorak @coralaura @tsxukikami @hjgdhghoe @coffeeaddictxd @cxcilla @kaitense1 @star-girl-interlud3 @sukaretto-n @welpthisisboring @itsberrydreemurstuff @lovebug-apple @crazycaoticsimp @bellethesleepypotato @blackhood1229 @jsprien213