#cause they were written before it was clear that

[grimminsanity]

Oh hey, lost my right eye at the beginning of the year, and literally every single thing that's written here is a full-on truth I've come to realize and experience. Long story short, my eye got punctured by a pipe that broke while clearing some snow in winter, and I got an ennucleation to have it removed and got an occular implant in.

I've still got my eye muscles - now connected to my implant - and my tear ducts, so I can still cry, though it happens a bit more on my right than my left now. The people not realizing you're half blind is definitely a thing. My parents were with me every step of the way, and they still forget I have trouble in low light and can startle me if they come up on my right.

Some other things I've noticed for anyone curious:

1. I used to have very good night vision, could adjust very quickly, and often took point on night walks with my mom. After I lost my eye, though, being in low light conditions is really hard for me sometimes? It's connected to the depth perception thing, I think, and everything starts to sort of blend in together for me. Dark rooms, even with a slight light somewhere, also cause issues because, again, it takes ages to adjust, and I bump into a lot of things. I've learned to map out spaces a lot faster now because of it.

2. Connected with number 1, driving on roads that shift from being clear to be surrounded by trees is... not fun. It takes my eye a little longer to adjust to lighting, so shifting between shaded and sunny places while driving is not fun. I tend to drive a little slower to compensate in those places.

3. Connected to number 3. and to the previous comments about being a safer driver, - which is true, actually! I've slowed down a lot and consider taking turns a lot more now - It's not harder for me to drive, persay, but it is a bit more of an inconvenience. Considering i live in a country that drives on the right side of the road, me losing my right eye means I've lost half of my perception of the road to an extent? The frame that hold my windshield blocks out a part of my remaining vision, so I actually have to lean to my right in my seat a lot more when taking curves or turns because I just can't see the full road. If anyone is driving towards me around a blind curve, it's gives me a little heart attack each time, and I have to correct myself if I'm too close to the center.

4. I'm an artist and drawing traditionally has become a bit more difficult to since I have to angle myself in a way that has me looking down straight at the paper as much as I can. Makes it harder when I have huge sizes of paper to work on school projects and have to use a big drawing board to lean on since I don't have a desk big enough for that. Causes a strain on my back as well as my neck because I've gotten used to sitting very stiffly in my chair to keep the right viewpoint of my paper.

5. Like mentioned above, I now have to have people actively tell me or point out things if I they want me to get or see something because I don't know what they can mean? I get frustrated cause they forget to say something, and then I get snappy if they get snappy with me instead. I literally need things to be pointed out to me.

6. The implant is basically a ball that gets put into your eye socket, and the prosthetic is essentially like a super thick contact lens that gets molded to the shape of implant and eye socket. You'll need to get them cleaned yearly after the first year or so and get the fitting checked every year or two because the prosthetic will settle and not fit as well as before. Connected to that, your prosthetic can move with your implant! Some move better than others. Mine moves well with small mini movements of my implant and slight shifts of the eye - looks very natural! - but if I suddenly look to my up or around me without moving my head, like the corner of my eye, you can immediately tell I've got a fake eye. Throws people off sometimes!

I'm sure there's a few other things I've missed, - or just not realized, really - so I'll leave it here for now. It does make me feel seen though to know that other monocular people are also experiencing things I'm realizing I now get to live with!

writing advice for characters with a missing eye: dear God does losing an eyes function fuck up your neck. Ever since mine crapped out I've been slowly and unconsciously shifting towards holding my head at an angle to put the good eye closer to the center. and human necks. are not meant to accommodate that sorta thing.

[zhounauts]

౨ৎ₊˚⊹ ( KICK IT W/ YOU ) RICH BOY!PJS X FMR

0823 ── girl pardon me i don't mean to be rude but i got some paper, and i wanna spend it on you

XX ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏based on all i wanna do by jay park w/ 462 words

WRNGS ── N/A

before you even see park jongseong, you know he's there.

the oh-so-familiar revving of his ferrari 812 as you reach the exit of your university is a dead giveaway that he's outside waiting for you. it's like a unwelcome reminder that he seems to always be everywhere you are, despite your efforts to shake him off.

and then there he is, in all his glory, leaning against his car with a bouquet of ivory roses in hand. park jongseong is filthy rich and anyone can see it in his perfectly tailored polo shirt, cream slacks, perfectly gelled hair and shiny rolex.

your stomach does a flip despite yourself, but you force it down. you've been doing this little dance with him for weeks—ignoring him, pushing him away, and pretending you don’t care. you refuse to look at him as you walk out, trying to blend in with the crowd surrounding him.

the last time you had saw him, you were sure you'd made it clear that you didn't want him doing things like this anymore. no gifts, no surprise visits in super cars, and most importantly no toying around with your heart like it was a game he could win by pulling the right strings.

but then there he is, again—just like always.

you try your best to slip past him, hoping that the crowd is enough to shield you from his penetrating gaze. yet, it only takes him a second to spot you.

"you're not really gonna ignore me forever, are you?" he calls out. you try to keep walking, but he doesn't let that slide, "i'm talking to you yn,"

the crowd of students goes silent, whispers floating through the air. you feel your jaw tighten in annoyance. though you want to keep walking, the scene jay has caused is enough, and you're willing to do anything to get rid of him.

with a sigh, you storm towards him, and he grins at this; unlocking his car and sliding into the drivers seat.

"well? no hello?" he teases as soon as you slam the door shut. his voice is light a playful, and you can tell he's enjoying the fact that you've been forced to confront him.

you turn to him, annoyance written clearly on your face. he sighs, "you're really not gonna say anything? after you've just sat down in my car?"

you don't answer him.

"hey," he says softly, "yn. c'mon," he stares at you. and just as you think you've successfully ignored him, he reaches out towards a loose strand of your hair, fingers hovering close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of him.

you react immediately, yelling as you whack his hand away, "i'm not talking to you dammit!" he smirks.

"just did,"

RAE'S NOTE(S) guys my brain has been throwing up so many ideas the amount of motivation i have is insane right now. it must be the christmas spirit filling me! newayz this has got to be one of my faves i've written ever so pls enjoy

(ZHOUNAUTS , 2024)

[lemotmo]

So I’ve been reading what you and others have said about Eddie saying he’s straight. And then the Ryan interviews with the brother and hetero and gf etc etc. and how it’s a misdirect and can’t spoil.

And I get that. That makes sense

But I guess I’m still confused because like the GA?

Fandom doesn’t need to be convinced of queer Eddie and buddie. We’re all for it. We look into these details and subtext etc.

But I thought the whole thing was getting the GA who doesn’t do those things primed and ready for it.

And I don’t see how them watching the episode with Eddie flat out declaring he’s straight. Followed up by interview after interview immediately after with Ryan also saying Eddie’s straight. He’s hetero. Bucks his brother. Maybe find a new girlfriend for Eddie eventually etc does that?

If anything they are the ones who are going to take all of that at face value. Ok the character stated his sexuality as straight. Ok the actor confirmed the characters sexuality is straight. And that just seems to be…the complete opposite of what they should be doing to the GA if they are heading for buddie?

And I’m sure some of the Ga will read between the lines sure. But for months it’s been soft launch hard launch get the GA ready and used to the idea. And this just seems like a course correct the other way which at best will just cause them all kinda of confusion and at worst make them go oh ok he’s straight guess nothing there after all.

Idk if any of that made sense 😅

It made perfect sense Nonny! 😋 I get it!

Thing is, these interviews aren't really written for the GA. The GA won't read a dozen different interviews from the same actors and the showrunner of a show they casually watch on a Thursday night. They don't follow the actors on social media and go nuts over every single scrap of bts we get. Some of them don't even have a clue who the actors are. They just know them as Buck and Eddie.

They tune in to 911 on Thursday, watch the show and move on to Doctor Odyssey (or something else if they don't like throuples 😉). They don't go out of their way to post about the show on social media and look up all the different online articles like we do.

These articles are written to engage the fandom. These websites know that they'll get lots of views from fandom people.

The GA only watches the show and they get their clues there. The GA aren't idiots. They have seen other shows with slow burns and they will pick up on some of the subtle clues. Some of them might have already been wondering if Eddie would turn out to be queer before episode 6, picking up on little clues.

Then episode 6 happened and it wasn't exactly subtle about where this story is going. Yes, Eddie did declare himself to be straight, but I'm sure that quite a few people were wondering why he said that. There was no need for him to declare his sexuality as the default is seen as 'everyone is straight' until proven otherwise (which is so dumb by the way, but whatever).

But I'm certain a lot of people have picked up on some of the obvious clues in that episode. That last scene was very LOUD as well. So a lot of people will start wondering if they'll have Buck and Eddie end up together, even the people who might never have thought of this before.

The show is slowly building up the story around buck and Eddie. There will be more clues in future episodes. More things to pick up on. It'll start really small, but it will build up more and more until it will be clear for everyone to see.

That's how you build up a good slow burn relationship.

Now, I'm sure there will always be people of the GA that don't pick up on anything and take anything at face value and I'm sure they might be surprised by queer Eddie. It happens. It's unavoidable.🤷‍♀️

[euphoricsleeplucidity]

My friend had requested me to write this. I've never written Nuzi before, as I struggle to write N, but I hope it's enjoyable.

N snaps awake with a cry, his systems on high alert, his breath quickening rapidly. It felt like everything was closing in on him, the sheets covering him were too warm, and he pushes himself off of the bed, stumbling over the fabric that was wrapped around him, crawling further away from the bed and cowering in the corner of the too small room. He covers his face with his hands, shaking his head repeatedly, shutting his yellow eyes tightly even though his 'true' eyes continue to look around the room, locking onto the looming shadows as the barely visible pupils within them constrict in his panic.

She was looming over him, she was going to hurt him again, the yellow optics of those AS cameras staring right at him from within the darkness. "No," he chokes on a sob, and that's when he realizes tears stream heavily down his visor.

Through the haze, he hears a voice that clears the fog (though he can't make out the words), enough for the darkness to fade slightly, the cameras to flicker away for a split second, revealing familiar yellow-purple gradient optics before the panic returns. But he instead focuses on the voice that speaks to him, until he can make out the words - this isn't the first time he's woken up in a panic, after all.

"N, it's me. It's me," he can hear her say, and his eyes flick open. There's no Solver anymore, no shadows that threaten him, just Uzi, and she looks scared. For him. "Uzi, remember?"

"… Uzi?" He asks cautiously, as if afraid that she's not really there, like it's a hallucination, even though deep down he knows that is not the case.

"Yeah. That's me," she murmurs carefully, moving even closer to kneel down and outstretch a hand as if she were interacting with a wild animal. She might as well be.

Immediately, he lunges forward and to her credit, the worker doesn't flinch. But she knows she doesn't have to - he only wraps his arms around her, latching onto her tightly, afraid that she'd disappear if he were to let go. He buries his face into the crook of her neck, trembling.

"It's okay," Uzi reassures, bringing her hands up, rubbing his back with comforting circles. "You're safe, she's gone, N. She can't hurt you anymore, I promise she can't."

He doesn't respond for a little bit, nor does he relax. But finally, "I'm scared, Uzi. I-I keep having those nightmares. I-. They don't s-stop." He whimpers, clinging even tighter to the smaller worker before letting up, not wanting to hurt her.

"I know," Uzi mumbles. "We'll figure that out, okay?"

N finally pulls back, if only slightly, a small smile on his face. He hates worrying her, knows he does even if she won't tell him. "… Thanks, Uzi."

She rolls her eyes, a purple blush appearing on her visor as she averts her gaze. "Any time, dude. You wanna try and go back to sleep, now?" She asks, standing up as he releases her and stretching with a tired yawn.

The disassembly drone hesitates, his nightmare still very much fresh in his mind, but he inevitably concedes. "Okay," N agrees softly, shakily standing up as well, lifting his hand to wipe off any tears that remain on his visor. He swallows his saliva, and grasps Uzi's hands as she outstretches them. She smiles in a bashful way, and backs up, leading him back to the bed.

"Uzi-!" He shouts in surprise when she lets herself fall back onto the bed, dragging him with her and causing him to fall on top of her. Though the worker lets out a muffled noise from the pressure, she doesn't complain much further, instead wrapping her arms around him, keeping him there. "I don't-."

"You're not crushing me, you dork," she interrupts, "I'd tell you if you were, don't worry."

"O-okay," N yields, albeit hesitantly.

They don't say anything else after that. Uzi is content just rubbing his back in comforting patterns, and N just relaxes into it.

He is nearly completely asleep when he just barely registers Uzi speaking one last time, "… You're safe, N."

And he falls asleep sometime after that.

[gay-furry-poseidon-lover]

All of this is very fair, and good to read about. Though I do think Op has a point about the black and white of how people treat Epic's Odysseus verses anyone who gets in his way, and how hypocritical the treatment of Calypso specifically is if you look at how like. Any man in greek myths is treated. I believe Odysseus took women as slaves on his ship in The Illiad. Sometimes its someone else but he is one of the people who said they must kill the son of Hector, he dropped this baby off of a wall. Sure you can argue "it was willed by Zues," but I dont think that makes it any better morally. When he gets home he commands that an unfaithful servant be strung up and tortured untill death, as well as killing every female servant who was unfaithful to him. We dont neccesarily know to what degree, or even if engagement with the suitors was consensual. But all of this is to say that there really is no true good or evil character. I say all of these things as someone who really enjoys the Odyssey and Odysseus. We can recognize that acting in the ways he did would not be okay or acceptable in our society today, but we still tell his story and praise him for his loyalty and endurance.

Epic is a work of fiction inspired by The Odyssey. It is not meant to follow it exactly, nor portray an accurate example of how the story plays out in the book, and we must keep this in mind. In greek myth there are many versions of each story, many differing translations and interpretations, and long before they were written down they were passed on through oral tradition. I approach this with the mind that with each new retelling we learn about the time it was written, and what biases a translator or story teller may have let leak into it. Not that they are neccesarily false, just different, and products of different people.

A persons first introduction to Calypso will certainly influence their opinions on her as she is present in many different pieces of media. And what i think is most important is that we remember she is fictional. She's a goddess, a nymph, someone that exists only in the stories we tell. And the same with Odysseus. Its very likely writers took inspirations from real heroes and their experiences, but the Odysseus we know today is not a real person. Neither him nor Calypso are personally affected by the things we say about them. You can't conflate theorizing about the different possibilities of how an ancient story went with say, denying the story of a modern victim of rape. These are very different things in very different contexts. I thought fans of greek myth would be on the same page about this, what with the plentiful rape, incest, murder, slavery, and beastiality described in myths. But apparantly it needs to be said that enjoying stories that contain violence and crimes like these does not mean you condone or support these actions taking place in our modern society.

People are free to talk about Zues and enjoy his character without constantly giving disclaimers that we can never forgive him and he has done bad things. Because we know that, its established, its clear. People dont accuse you of being a rape sympathizer or being into fucking cows just because you mention Zues. Hes low hanging fruit though. Hera, Aphrodite, Artemis and Apollo, theyve all done horrific shit. But we dont immediately critisize anyone who talks of them fondly. Achilles did it with a corpse cause he thought she was just that beautiful. Obviously thats gross and bad. Liking his stories doesnt automatically mean you agree with that.

I'm not on tiktok (thank god) but ive seen a couple videos and posts that are very black and white. Calypso is an evil abusor and if you like her than you support abuse and rape. It's annoying as hell. I've been abused, ive been in coercive sexual relationships, I know first hand that thats bad. Duh. And if you find comfort in relating to Odysseus because of your own experiences, and that leads you to hate Calypso, thats okay. If people talking about Calypso is upsetting or triggering to you, don't engage with it by all means. Take care of yourself. Block, hit not interested, scroll away.

But what you should not do is tell random people on the internet that they are as bad as rapist abusors because they were talking about the one sided love of a nymph goddess and a mortal man in a musical inspired by anime and video games.

People are able to sepparate fiction from reality with so many other characters, why is it that Calypso is such a controversial one. Her character, and her backstory, have so much to explore and think about, and we can do that without believing that she is without any flaws or faults.

Think of her what you want, say about her what you want. Just stop projecting whatever beliefs you have about what it means to enjoy a fictional character onto everyone who disagrees with you. If you are do passionate about justice for victims, go outside, engage with local communities, see a friend, see a therapist. Speak out about the real, alive abusors and rapists who hold positions of power in our world right now. That will bring much more good to the world than starting discourse on tiktok, I promise you. (not directed at op or reblogger, but for people in general.)

Something I'm starting to notice about this fandom; y'all can like Epic's version of Odysseus without trying to paint Calypso as a rapist.

Odysseus in the original tale did cheat on his wife. Several times. And there's nothing wrong with acknowledging that. But trying to paint him as blameless and all the other women as rapists for seducing him is not the winning move y'all think it is.

Like Tiktok is becoming the worst when it comes to the topic of Calypso.

[mikodrawnnarratives]

Huntlow shippers before Grimwalker reveal: Wouldn't it be cute if Willow still called Hunter "Caleb" because of the day they met! :D <3

Huntlow shippers after: 👁️👄👁️ ...

[nanaslutt]

Forgotten lunch

synopsis: Nanami forgets his lunch and you being the sweet wife you are, decide to stop by Jujutsu High to bring it to him

contains: fem reader, established relationship, teasing, dirty talk, possessive!Nanami, rough sex, manhandling, squirting, oral(f!r), cum eating, office sex

note: this was a vip request from a friend :3 i hope u enjoy <3

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

You awoke to a chime sounding from your phone on the nightstand, a text message from your husband, Nanami. He texted you only seconds ago, letting you know he had left for work and would be home later that night. He did this every time he left for work when you were still asleep, and every time it never failed to make you swoon. It was such a small thing, but you appreciated it nonetheless. 

You couldn't wait for the day you transferred to work at Jujutsu High instead of the Kyoto school. The thought of getting ready every morning with Nanami and commuting to work together--maybe stopping at a coffee shop before you arrived at the school, made your heart flutter. Only two more weeks and your fantasies would become a reality.

After stretching your body and groaning dramatically, messing up the sheets in the process as you splayed your body out along the length of the bed like a starfish, you begrudgingly pulled yourself out of bed and got ready for the day. You had finished all of your assignments early the day before, meaning you had a day off. A rare occasion, but one you were extremely grateful for.

When you walked into your shared bathroom to wash your face, you were met with a small pink sticky note on your side of the bathroom, a heart, and the words 'Have a good day' written in Nanami's neat handwriting. You smiled as you looked at it before putting on your headband to keep the stray hairs out of your face as you continued with your skincare.

Once you had finished all of your morning care, and pulled on a simple, comfortable outfit, you strolled into the kitchen for breakfast, rubbing the back of your neck as you walked into the room. Immediately, you noticed Nanami's grey lunchbox sitting atop the counter. Furrowing your eyebrows, you walked up to the bag, wondering if he had forgotten his lunch, or if he had used a different bag today and this was the one he used the day prior. 

Sure enough, when you unzipped the bag, it was full of the lunch you had prepared for him the day before, the cold leaked out into the air, feeling it on your fingertips as you looked inside, letting you know that the food inside was still good. Thank god for insulated lunch boxes. You shook your head and smiled at his mistake, it was unusual that Nanami missed something like this, he was a man severely devoted to his schedule after all. 

You chalked it up to him being a little tired from the night before, causing his lunch to slip his mind. Because you had the day off, you might've been a little selfish the night before when you made Nanami fuck you into the sheets over and over again. Clinging onto him as you whispered into his ear 'Don't stop, give me more~' until the early hours of the night. 

It's not like Nanami was complaining, he was just as eager as you were. You definitely could've shortened your... session a little bit for his sake though. Maybe you would've if his dick allowed you to think of anything other than how deep it was inside you. Shaking your head you snapped yourself back into the present, pushing down the growing arousal you felt between your thighs while your brain replayed the most intimate moments you spent together last night. 

Clearing your throat, you zipped the lunch bag shut, taking it in your hand as you decided to take it to him. You had nothing to do on this day anyway, it's not like it was a hindrance to you in any way. Besides, Nanami's commute to the school was so close--a lot closer than you were to the Kyoto school.

Sitting on the floor with Nanami's lunchbox beside you, you pulled your shoes on, getting ready to leave. You checked your appearance in the mirror before you walked out the door, making sure you looked presentable before you saw your husband, ignoring the fact that Nanami had said many many times that he would find you attractive if you were in a garbage bag. 

You were surprised Nanami hadn't texted you about his missing lunch. Maybe he still hadn't noticed, even if he did, you doubted he would ask you to bring it to him. Even though he knew you had nothing going on today, Nanami wouldn't want to inconvenience you--such a selfless man. You grabbed the handle of his lunchbox, lifting it from the floor, and with that, you were on your way.

You always loved the Jujutsu High campus. The scenery was beautiful, and the plants and flowers that decorated nicely around the buildings were so well tended to, making it look so clean and inviting. Another plus was the people. Everyone here was so sweet and welcoming, save for a certain old guitarist who appeared to be withering away in front of your eyes, and the higher-ups of course. It was seldom that you saw them though.

The students on campus loved you as well, they were all so excited when they heard from Nanami that you were transferring. You hadn't had many interactions with them, but you could tell they were good kids and respected your husband, especially a young Yuji Itadori, who seemed to almost worship the ground Nanami walked on.

You knew the way to Nanami's office with ease, you had been there many times when you got off work before him and decided to come to his work and sit in his office with him while he finished up. Strolling through the quiet halls of the teacher's offices, your eyes lit up when they landed on Nanami's, his office placed next to Gojo's, whose door was poorly decorated with flowers and hearts that looked like third graders had drawn them. It always made you smile when you saw it. 

You knocked softly against Kento's door, not speaking as you wanted to surprise him. Before you even finished, the door was being swung open, and your eyes were met with your husband's, his reading glasses pushed atop his head, his hair being pushed back with them. You shamelessly raked your eyes over his body, god he looked good in a suit. His built stature was practically ripping through the material of his clothes, making your thoughts run rampant. You hoped he didn't catch the blush spreading across your cheeks.

"I sensed your cursed energy, what are you doing here my love?" Nanami asked. The tips of his ears were turning a light shade of pink. He was excited to see you--cute. Your hands were behind your back, hiding his lunch box from his view. He said a quiet 'come inside' before you spoke, stepping to the side as he opened his door more for you, letting you into his space.

You didn't miss the way he locked the door after he shut it, making you smile to yourself. "Forgot something, Ken?" You asked, tilting your head at him knowingly as you revealed his lunch box to him, holding it out with both hands in front of him. Nanami sighed, a small smile gracing his features as he took the lunchbox from you, taking a few steps to set in on his desk before he walked back over to you and wrapped his strong arms around your body.

"You didn't have to bring it all the way here, I would've realized at some point and gone to a cafe to get something to eat." He explained, his large hand caressing the side of your cheek. Nanami's body heat spread throughout your entire body as he held you against his chest, nuzzling your cheek instinctually against his hand. "I made your favorite, wouldn't want you to miss out. I'm not doing anything today anyways, it was nothing." You replied, tipping your face against his hand so you could press a kiss to the side of his palm.

Nanami leaned his face down toward yours, his hand sliding down to your neck as he rested it there softly. His eyes flit between your soft lips and your gentle eyes, filled with so much love for him. "Mmmm." He moaned against you as he pressed your lips together, relishing how soft you felt against him. He kissed you slowly, passionately, before he pulled back, way too soon for your liking. 

You felt that same throbbing you felt while you were fantasizing about the night before making its appearance once more as he looked down at you with a smile, brushing the stray hairs from your face. "Well, I appreciate it, my love. Truthfully I would've been slightly disappointed when lunchtime came around and I realized I wouldn't get to eat you're cooking." Nanami said, his hands pulling away from your waist as he made his way back to his desk, sitting down in his expensive office chair.

While you mourned the loss of his hands on you, your greedy eyes took in the way his thighs bulged through his pants as he sat down, the material covering them straining to fit his muscles. Maybe you should get him some new pants... or maybe not, the sight of them was too delicious. 

Biting your lip, you strolled over to him as he looked back down at his documents, his glasses finding their home on the bridge of his nose. "What are your plans for the day? Just relaxing or did you need to go out for something?" Nanami asked, keeping his eyes on his paperwork. His body jolted slightly before relaxing when you came up behind him and started massaging his shoulders with your smaller hands. 

Your fingers dug into his muscles, working him over so well as you loosened the knots in his shoulders. Nanami rolled his head to the side, pressing his lips together as his eyes fell shut, relaxing against your touch. You leaned against the shell of his ear, biting the tip of his before you whispered teasingly, "I was just going to wait at home all alone in my panties till my husband came home." 

Nanami groaned in response, his eyes cracking open as he looked to the ceiling for help before he looked back down at his document when he realized what you were trying to do. "Don't do this right now." He said sternly, trying to ignore the heat that started to bloom deep in his stomach from your words. "Do what? I'm just helping you relax. I can't do that?" You replied, playing dumb.

Nanami felt his cock stir to life in his pants. He hated that he liked it when you played coy with him. "Honey, I have a lot of work to do. Was yesterday not enough?" Kento responded, his eyes fluttering when your thumbs dug into a particularly tense spot in his shoulders. You felt your arousal grow at his mention of what the two of you did last night. "I can never get enough of you Ken~" You teased, saying his name seductively in his ear. 

"Honey please." He begged, doing his best not to give in to you. "Gojo is just one room over, I can't do this with you right now." He said firmly, his shoulders flexing under your hands when he leaned forward to start reviewing the documents in front of him. "Hm? Why are you bringing him up? What kinds of lewd things are you thinking about in there?" You teased, tapping the top of his head with your finger.

Nanami was already fully hard in his slacks, just from a few touches and a couple of dirty words from you. Your ability to rile him up like this was truly a talent, he was absolutely whipped by you. You peeked over his shoulder when he stayed quiet, looking down at the very obvious bulge in his pants as he wrote something unintelligible on the paper, trying to look busy. 

"Are you hard, baby? I didn't even do anything, what got you so worked up?" You giggled, biting your lip as you watched his cock twitch through his pants, the sight making your mouth water. Nanami was losing his cool, he didn't know how much more of your teasing he could take. You decided to test your luck further, sliding your hands down his shoulders your ran them over his chest, your fingers teasing his solid pecs over his shirt. 

Nanami groaned when you raked your nails back up the expanse of his chest, they scratched over his sensitive nipples, making his cock twitch in his pants. You were about to say something overconfident and snarky, but you were cut off when Nanami stood from his chair, shoved it to the side away from his desk, and turned around to catch your slender neck in his hand. 

"You really wanna get fucked here? Want me to pause my work because my wife is a needy slut?" He growled lowly, keeping a firm grip on your neck as he brought his face close to yours, his other hand holding your waist firmly. The sudden change in his demeanor made your head spin as you smiled at him. You were getting exactly what you wanted. "Yes please." You said selfishly, your smile growing with your arousal as you kept your lidded eyes on your handsome husband's face, plastered with frustration.

Your hands came up to grip Nanami's wrist that was holding your neck as you waited for him to make his next move. He licked his teeth before he manhandled you down on the desk, your chest crumpling any of the documents that were unfortunate enough to be sitting in front of him. He kept a large hand on the back of your neck while your hands gripped the edge of the desk.

You could feel your heart beating out of your chest and echoing in your ears from how excited you were. You tried to turn your head far enough so you could watch Nanami undo his belt when you heard the clinking of the metal as he ripped the leather from the confines of the belt loops on his pants. "What do you think you're looking at?" Kento asked harshly, squinting his eyes at you as he hastily unzipped his pants to release his cock from the too-tight confines of his work pants.

"Your cock." You said boldly, your eyes locking onto the appendage as he pulled it out from his boxers, keeping his pants on but lower on his hips so his cock had enough space to get out. Nanami wrapped his hand around his dick, the tip already dripping pre-cum onto the floor from how worked up he was. 

"You want this as bad as I do, don't you Ken?" You asked, wiggling your ass at him. You really weren't planning on jumping on Nanami like this when you decided to bring his lunch to him, but a single quick one over of his impressive frame in his work clothes managed to change that. "Shut up." He growled back, releasing his cock after he gave it a few strokes to pull down the casual pants you wore, panties and all, exposing your dripping cunt to the room.

"If you wanna pretend you're all angry with me you can, I like when you get rough." You teased, feeling a new wave of arousal wash over you when he exposed your cunt to the room. You watched from your peripheral as his eyes took in your soaked cunt, his thumb spreading open your folds to his greedy eyes. "And what makes you think I'm pretending, hm?" Nanami spat, the vein in his forehead popping out at your teasing. 

He slid his thumb down to your clit, rubbing slow teasing circles over it, effectively shutting you up. The hand he had on the back of your neck tightened against you as he watched your jaw drop in a small o, your eyes fluttering back in your head. "So fucking easy, all I gotta do is touch your clit a little and you behave," Nanami said, his cock dripping pre-cum against your ass as he throbbed watching your face contort from your pleasure.

"'M n-not easy." You tried to spit back. Nanami was right though, the second he gave you any sort of attention, you were a good girl. He knew just how to calm you down. "No?" He asked, rubbing his thumb faster against your clit. "Look at yourself." He said, his fingers on your neck emphasizing his words with a squeeze to your pulse point.

You tried to press your thighs together as he rubbed your clit, but Nanami was having none of that. His larger thigh knocked your knees apart, keeping you spread open for him so he had full access to your pretty pussy. "You're gonna be quiet when I fuck you. Not gonna make a fucking sound." Nanami instructed, not giving you an option. 

You nodded, agreeing to his words--but honestly, you would say anything he wanted you to if it meant he gave you his cock. You whined at the loss of his thumb against your pussy, but the feeling was soon replaced by the fat head of his cock, rubbing up and down your folds, mixing his precum with your juices, making sure his cock was nice and wet before he fucked you.

"Let me know you heard me, tell me you're going to be quiet," Nanami repeated, catching his head against your entrance and pressing against it teasingly before he pulled back, making you whine. "Yes, yes Ken I'll be quiet, just-, please." You begged, trying to push your ass back against him so he would give you his dick already.

"Please what?" He asked. You didn't miss the teasing tone his voice took, it was his turn to play with you now. "Y-your cock, give me your cock pleasee~" You whined, pouting against his desk as you tried to look back at him through your blurry peripheral. Nanami released the back of your neck to grab both of your wrists in his one large hand, keeping them restrained against your lower back. "So easy." He repeated, referencing his words earlier as he slowly slid his cock into your cunt.

Your jaw fell open agaisnt the wood of his desk before a loud moan slipped from your lips. Nanami wasted no time in wrapping a hand under your face and pressing his hand against your mouth, his back lying flush against yours as he crushed you with his weight, his hand restraining your wrists being crushed between your bodies, his mouth right against your ear as he spoke, "Be fucking quiet." He groaned, keeping his voice semi-quiet as he spoke.

"Two inches of my cock inside you and you break your promise?" He whispered, thrusting the rest of his cock inside you, a muffled moan resounding against Nanami's hand. "I wasn't fucking kidding. Gojo is right on the other side of that wall and you just moaned like a slut for everyone to hear." He growled, slowly humping his hips against your ass. 

You let out soft moans against his hand, your eyes rolling back in your head each time his fat tip brushed against your sweet spot deep inside you. "You're my fucking wife. No one else gets to hear how you cry for me when I fuck you, got that?" He whispered, his deep voice in your ear sending goosebumps down your spine. You loved when Nanami got possessive, it made you feel so fucking hot all over.

You nodded against the desk, your pussy squeezing tightly around his cock as he fucked you open for him. He kept his weight against your back as he fucked you, his balls slapping against your thighs making lewd noises to echo around his office. He was too worried about your moans, he should've been more concerned with that. Anyone who walked by his room would easily be able to tell what was going on from the slapping alone, whether or not you were making any sound.

You did your best to keep your moans quiet as he pressed his hand against your mouth, but it was proving to be so fucking hard. It was rare that you and Nanami got intimate at any place other than your home, so you weren't used to having to be quiet. It wasn't like you had much of a choice either. Nanami was fucking you so hard, he was practically punching the sounds out of your body.

His cock was touching all the right places inside you, making you see stars behind your eyelids. "God your pussy is squeezing me so tight." Nanami groaned, his head burring in the crook of your neck as he whispered the words, his hot breath tickling your skin. "M-mmmm" You moaned into his hand, your ass wiggling back against him as you tried to escape the intense pleasure he was giving you--or were you trying to get more? You couldn't remember, he was fucking you dumb.

"What's wrong? Too much?" Nanami asked, faux sympathy laced in his voice. He sped up the pace of his hips against you, the slapping echoing louder in the room as he abused your g-spot with his cockhead. You could only whine against his hand, unsure what you would've said if he wasn't covering your mouth. "That's too bad. You wanted this, so you're going to fucking take it." He growled.

You whined, your legs shaking from the intense pleasure flooding your body. Nanami's balls were slapping harshly against your clit, making your brain turn to mush as he fucked you so deep. "Shhhhh." He reminded when you started to get a little too cockdrunk, forgetting where you were. His hand could only do so much in keeping your moans down, he needed you to help him out a bit. "Be quiet baby, do this one thing for me, c'mon." He urged.

You wanted to laugh. How could he say that, then somehow fuck his cock deeper inside you? Fucking tease, he knew what he was doing. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt your orgasm build up inside you. All the stimulation was too much. Your hands started to go numb from how hard Nanami was gripping your wrists combined with his body weight crushing them. That was another thing--his body weight.

He was effectively suffocating you but in the best way. Each time his cock slid inside you, it punched the air from your lungs, and with how much he was laying on you, it was making it very hard to recover from his thrusts and take in a breath. It felt like he was choking you, but ten times more intense, and you loved it.

You think that's why your orgasm came on so quickly. The anticipation combined with how deep he was pounding into you was going to make you cum--and hard, all over his cock. "You got tighter...are you close? Hm? Gonna cum all over my dick right now?" He asked against your air, his deep voice only adding fuel to the fire as his soft lips sucked the lobe of your ear into his mouth, his teeth slightly pulling on it.

You nodded, your moans increasing in frequency but the volume stayed the same, you didn't want to anger Kento more than you already had. "Good, do it. Cum all over my cock, pretty girl, c'mon." He cooed into your ear, his own dick twitching inside you with his impending release as he kept the same pace up, working you higher and higher to your orgasm.

Your shins crossed over one another with the sheer intensity of the pleasure you were feeling. Your eyes screwed shut and your mouth fell open against his palm as it opened in a silent scream. "Yeah, that's it- oh fuckkkk, atta girl, good fucking girlll." Nanami groaned as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your moans sounded shaky as the rest of your body jolted as it was wracked with your high.

Nanami didn't have to look to know you had just squirted all over his cock, and undoubtedly all over his pants. "Gonna cum inside you, that's what you want right? Wanna feel me deep inside you?" He babbled against your ear, his thrusts becoming sloppy and stuttered the closer her got to the edge. He released the hand he had on your mouth so you could speak, he needed to hear you beg for him.

"Y-ess Ken c-cum inside me pleaseee~" You whined, your moans coming out slurred and choppy as he fucked you through the aftershocks of your high, slightly overstimulating you as he used your cunt to get him off. "O-okay okay- fuck c-cumming-" Nanami's hips stilled against your ass as his cock twitched inside you with every rope of cum he shot deep inside. His balls clenched with his cock as he released all of his seed inside you, groaning loudly against your ear--so much for being quiet.

"Oh fuck- there's s-so much." You whined back, keeping your thighs pressed together as he rolled his hips against you, letting your walls milk him entirely before he stopped moving. "God... fuck..." Nanami huffed as he came down from his high, his body crushing yours even more as he relaxed against you from such an intense orgasm.

He was still deep inside you and he could already feel how his seed was spilling out around his dick from how much he had given you. "K-ken... can't... breathe..." You whispered against the desk, your cheek being squished into the wood. Nanami quickly sat up, standing his full weight on shaky legs. "Sorry honey, that really took a lot out of me." Nanami groaned as he slowly pulled his spent cock out of your tight walls.

You hissed in overstimulation as he slid out of you. Your walls clenched around him in instinct, making him wince as your pussy hugged his tip before he slid it fully out of you. He reached over your body to grab the tissues on the side of his desk, grabbing a couple as he wiped his cock clean before tucking it back in his pants.

You layed still against the desk for a couple of seconds before you tried to push yourself up. You were quickly stopped by your husband, who pressed his hand against your lower back, keeping you on his desk. "Don't move." He instructed, to which you obeyed, blushing as you laid still against the wooden desk, your body still shaking and twitching from your orgasm.

You looked around the room as you waited for Nanami to do something. Your body jolted when you felt his tongue lap at your used cunt, his large hands gripping the fat of your ass as he spread you apart so he could clean you better with his tongue. You slapped your own hand over your mouth as he ate his cum out of you, making you whine in oversensitivity.

"K-kento!" You whined through your fingers, your free hand shooting back to rake through his sweaty hair, your head tipping to the side so you could make eye contact with his lidded eyes as he licked through your folds, cleaning you up. Nanami moaned in response, shaking his head against you so he could get his face deeper, tasting your combined essence on his tongue.

You blushed at his antics, moaning softly agaisnt your hand before he pulled away, standing as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking down at you innocently. "How's your cum taste?" You teased, smirking at him with a flushed face. He smirked back before he lifted your tired body and placed you on his lap, facing him, as he sat down on his office chair.

You adjusted your pants on top of him, covering your cunt with your pants and panties once more before he gripped your chin and leaned forward. You leaned into the kiss, your lips slotting together with his as he immediately slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you slowly. You tasted the familiar bitterness of his cum on your tongue, mixed with something else you could only assume was yourself. 

He pulled away from the kiss after a few seconds, a small string of saliva connecting the two of you together as you gazed at him with a slightly slack jaw. "You tell me, how do I taste?" He asked, rubbing his thumb over your lip before he dropped both hands to your thighs, rubbing the skin there soothingly. 

You blushed at how bold he was being, oh how the tables turned. You pouted at him as he smirked, rubbing his hands along the soft material of your pants. "Any chance this was premeditated and you brought an extra pair of pants for me?" Nanami asked, looking down at the very obvious wet spots on his crotch and thighs from where you squirted on him.

"Was that- did I do that?" You asked, looking down at the mess and blushing furiously. You don't know how you were only noticing it now, it was a massive dark patch, really. "Yes baby, you did that," Kento responded, nodding. You looked around the room for anything that could be suitable pants or at least something he could use to cover himself when he left for the day.

After your eyes found nothing, of course, because you were in Nanami Kento's office, the very organized man who only brought with him what was necessary--you looked back to him before speaking, "You uh... you wanna wear my pants?" 

It was the thought that mattered.

[sacredsorceress]

Scars / Logan Howlett

pairing: dofp!logan howlett x mutant!reader summary: every person has a soulmate. after settling in the future that he saved, logan starts to consider his next mission when a suspicious mark appears on him. word count: 3.2k a/n: good ol'fashioned soulmate AU. this is the first actual fic i've written in a long time so please have some grace. reblogs and replies are super appreciated! warnings: general mentions of logan's past, scars, self-doubt, alcoholism, reader smokes a cigar, mentions of razors, scars, wounds, two uses of y/n

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It had been a week since Logan woke up in his healed timeline.

For most people, the change would have been dramatic. But Logan was far unlike most people. The initial dreamlike state he was in when he first walked through the mansion- seeing the ghosts he had once known returned to the flesh, unscathed- quickly subsided. Logan had always been a man thrown onto a new path- how he lived life constantly changing to best fit his interests. Now, with his newfound peace he found the most complicated mission of all: what to do with the life he was now free to live?

Even before the sentinels, the battles, the wars- he had always been a man on the run. He was solo, strategic, concise. For a man who was gifted with infinite regeneration, he had solely concerned himself with staying alive. He ate for sustenance, sought shelter for safety, and nursed a bottle to find enough peace of mind to sleep at night.

The professor had once told him that for a person to reach self-actualization they first had to have all of their needs met. Logan had scoffed at the time, assuring the professor that he knew himself just fine. But now, with his problems so solved that they had ceased to ever exist, he wondered if maybe the professor was right.

Who was he? Where did he go from here?

The answer was found in the form of a scar on his hand.

"Well, everything seems to be just fine."

Logan scoffed at the blue man in front of him

"Well it's not." Logan said. "Check again."

Two days after he had come back, a large, circular scar had appeared on the palms of each of his hands. When they hadn't disappeared after two minutes, he rushed to the bathroom and nicked himself with his razor, watching as the wound healed with only blood dripping down his scruff as a remanent of it. Thirty minutes after that he found himself in the lab with Hank, Jean, and the Professor hypothesizing his miraculous marks.

"Logan, the tests came back clear." Jean assured him, leaning against the wall. "Maybe it's time to consider that it's something else."

Logan quirked his head towards her.

"I haven't had a scar in over two hundred years," he reminded her, his voice laced with irony. "I get not one, but two and you... what? Think it's a coincidence?"

Before Jean had a chance at rebuttal, the professor moved to face Logan.

"That's not what Jean's inferring, Logan." Charles reminded him. "We're simply asking that you consider other options. Less... dire options. It could, after all, be a good thing."

"Yeah?" Logan scoffed. "Like what?"

A silence hung in the air.

When Logan had first come to them with news of his scar, the thought had been on all three of their minds. Still, there were a plethora of things that could have caused that. Though, when the tests came back clear and his skin continued to heal from all sorts of abrasions, it felt as if there was only one answer for his seemingly magical scars.

However, none of them were keen on sharing this diagnosis with Logan. One wondered whether he'd handle the idea of his body failing him over fated love.

Hank was the first to speak up.

"Like a soulmate."

Oh that was rich, Logan thought.

Logan wasn't unfamiliar with the idea of soulmates.

Around the time that two fated lovers were destined to meet, there would be a sign for each of them. In some cases they were eyes changing colors, feeling the other's pain, finding their names everywhere they looked. In other cases they were new birthmarks, tattoos, scars.

In some way, the two were inextricably connected.

In his long life he had seen others experience it dozens if not hundreds of times. When the first thirty years of his life rolled around with no one, Logan accepted that he was one of the outliers. He considered it for the best and by now, with everything that he had gone through, the concept of soulmates almost seemed like an old wives' tale.

Logan glanced at their faces. When he realized they were serious, a deep laugh escaped from his gut. There was a lack of light in his eyes that admitted his insincerity.

"So I disappear for a few decades and you all start believing in fairytales?" Logan pulled the needles from his arm, the heart rate monitor going flat as he did. "What a bunch of bullshit."

Jean laid her hand against his chest, urging him back into the seat.

"Logan." She soothed him. "This is a good thing. Scott and I-"

Oh this was real rich.

"Scott and you are... what, huh?" Logan urged. "Soulmates?"

Logan scoffed, swiping Jean's hand from his chest.

"Bet you're so happy with your 'soulmate' and that's why you lead me on, huh? That it? You're happy?" He taunted, a dark laugh escaping him once more. "Spare me-"

"Logan, that's enough!"

The professor's voice echoed against the linoleum walls of the lab, reverberating off of the medical equipment throughout.

"If you want to wallow in your own self-deprivation, be my guest, but spare the rest of us your grief." Charles continued. "I think it would be best if you go back to your quarters and consider the future the universe has offered you."

The energy in the air was thick.

Jean and Hank avoided Logan’s eye contact while the professor’s nearly burned a whole through him.

Accepting defeat, Logan threw his hands up in the air and pushed himself out of his metal chair.

“Fine.”

Soulmates. Logan thought. Who would believe in a thing like that?

-

"It's a pleasure to see you again."

The atmosphere in the mansion was a stark contrast to the lab Charles had been in days before.

Now the school day had commenced: children skipping from class to class, students chatting with their friends in the hallway, teachers grabbing coffee between lessons. Amidst the organized chaos, Charles had arranged to meet you in the foyer: the replacement history teacher for Logan's class.

"You too, professor." You smiled, reaching out your hand. "I was so glad to hear from you."

Your hand hung in the air briefly, awaiting his return. Charles examined it for a moment- a twinkle in his eye- before taking it. His thumbs brushed against the newfound scars between your knuckles as he did.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you didn't always have these scars, did you, Y/n?" Charles asked.

You had not.

You had woken with them a few days before. Despite your powers rooted in chaos magic, it wasn't uncommon for blemishes or wounds to etch themselves into your skin. However, you often knew why. These marks, scars, were not faint, but instead quite profound. Three thick, healed over wounds patched together like a stitch on the back of each of your hands.

"No professor."

He closed his eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips. Though you knew he wished to ask more questions, the moment was broken by Logan.

"Ah, the man himself." Charles beamed. "Logan, I'd like you to meet Y/n. She'll be covering your class."

You had seen your fair share of news stories about the Wolverine. Who hadn't? Though the television had never prepared you for just how tall, or broad he was.

"It's nice to meet you, Logan."

"You too." He nodded, taking your hand.

His hand lingered in yours for a moment. Charles cleared his throat.

"We were just discussing the most peculiar scar on Y/n's hand." Charles said. "Appeared just a few days ago out of nowhere."

Charles nodded his head in the direction of your hand, leading Logan to squint. As if a light bulb had gone off over his head, Logan glanced between Charles and yourself and with your hand still in his, he turned it examine the back.

Three scars between your knuckles. Right where his own claws would be.

Though he liked to imagine himself as the patron of remaining suave, Logan's eyebrows shot up at the recognition. He traced his view from your hands, up your torso, to your face where you eyed him questioningly.

He thought back to the way that he woke up in the seventies, wrapped in the arms of another woman. If times had been different and Logan hadn't undergone all the so-called character development in the last forty years, he was sure that a face like yours would have gotten him in a lot of trouble. You were beautiful, and your demeanor highlighted your strength.

Your face radiated kindness, warmth and most of all, sincerity- a trait that was difficult to come by in a trade such as his.

But then Logan recalled that this wasn't the seventies and you weren't at some bar leading him on the entire night: your hand was in his and, according to everyone else, he was yours.

The idea almost couldn't register in Logan's brain.

"Interesting, isn't it, Logan?" Charles asked, breaking the silence. "Almost identical to where your claws are, hmm?"

Oh the professor thought he was quite funny.

Logan pulled his hand back from your grasp and shook his head.

"Not that easy, Charles." Logan commented before turning to you, a spiteful tone in his voice. "See you around, bub."

Before you had the chance to open your mouth, you watched as Logan stomped down the nearest hallway, his boots squeaking against the floorboards as he did. His fists clenched and released at his sides as he disappeared from view.

His reaction had come so far from left field that if it hadn't given you whiplash, it would have hurt your ego. Instead you turned back to the professor.

"Was it something I said?" You asked.

The professor shook his head, patting your hand gently.

"Logan's quite a complicated man." He assured you. "I'm sure you'll come to know that more than the rest of us. Now, to your classroom..."

Glancing over your shoulder to the void-like hallway that Logan went down, you considered the professor's words.

-

A storm had taken over the mansion by nightfall.

As you padded down the wood panelled hallways, the lightbulbs shook in their glass with each thunder clap- wind swatting at the window panes every few seconds. The pitter patter of the raindrops, although harsh, was comforting. It was almost as if the mansion had been engulfed by the storm, trapping everyone inside, while consequently making the outside world feel a thousand miles away.

When you found Logan's door, tucked in at the end of the hallway, you knocked.

"Yep."

The weight of the door fell against the palm of your hands as you pushed it open.

Logan's room was dark. The only light in the space had been from the embers of the cigar that hung in his mouth, cradled between his thumb and forefinger. Despite the darkness, you could make out his figure sitting at his desk chair by the window, feet kicked up on the sill.

Logan only gave you a quick glance over his shoulder before turning back to the view.

"What d'you want?"

His voice was thick and rough around the edges.

"I came for your textbooks." You replied, tiptoeing against his floorboards. "The professor said you'd have them."

The hand of his that held the cigar waved around. Minuscule ashes fell to the floor as your eyes remained trained on the light and the faint glow of the moon that illuminated the side of his face.

"Be my guest," he said. "Don’t have a clue where they are."

The professor had given you the lowdown when he saw your scars.

Charles told you that despite everything that you had learned- the history that you had known- the Wolverine you'd meet was not the same person. He was a man from a different time with far different, darker memories and enough baggage to weigh down dozens.

Amidst the silence, you cleared your throat.

"Must be hard to wake up in someone else's life."

By now you had reached his desk, your fingertips tracing the lines in the dark, lacquered wood.

You could smell him and the cigar from this distance- aftershave mixed with smoke.

"The professor tell you that?"

"Mhm."

The chair creaked as Logan flicked his hand towards the window, ushering you to come closer.

Watching your step in the dark, you maneuvered around the furniture and sat beside Logan on his desk- pushing loose papers to the side.

"He give you his whole spiel on soulmates too?" He asked, eyes trained on the rain outside.

Soulmates.

Now that was the last thing you expected to come from the Wolverine's mouth.

You'd heard of them more times than you could count. You once wondered whether every repetitive coincidence was a sign that your person was coming. But, when that never happened, you lost hope.

Who got to tell you who you belonged to anyway?

Leaning over, you gingerly took the cigar from his grasp and replaced it with your own fingers. Sitting back into the desk as lightening struck a tree in the distance, you took a puff.

"So that's what the scars on my hands were all about," You thought aloud.

The window fogged as you let the smoke leave from your mouth in a breathy sigh.

Logan tapped his fingers on his thighs, counting the seconds between a lightening strike and its consecutive rumble of thunder.

"Listen, I'm no prince charming if that's what you came here looking for."

Logan's chair creaked again as he leaned back in his seat. His arm draped against the desk as he met your gaze.

You chuckled and held out his cigar, offering it back to him.

"I came here looking for textbooks." You laughed. "You're the one who keeps talking about soulmates. I think you're more of a romantic than you let on.”

His fingers brushed against yours as he took the cigar back into his own hand. Another lightning strike met the ground in the distance, a clap of thunder following moments afterwards.

"You don't buy it?" Logan quirked his eyebrow. It was a teasing question, one he was curious to hear your answer to.

You shrugged.

"I don't think the universe gets to tell me who to love," you said. "If I fall in love with you it's because I love you, Logan. Not because some mark told me to. I just think of it as... a little shove in the right direction.”

The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile for the first time.

"A shove?"

"Like a... blind date." You finished. "Ever been on one of those?"

A congested laugh escaped him.

"Sweetheart, do I look like the type of guy to go on a blind date?"

You bit the inside of your cheek at the name.

Rolling your eyes, you swatted at his arm. You wouldn't admit how much it hurt your knuckles to do so. You'd have to make a mental note to remember his adamantium skeleton.

"Gosh, you're cocky!"

Logan shrugged, "You're the one who likes it apparently."

You felt yourself grow hot at his accusation.

Even though he had a mark signalling his future affection for you, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed by Logan's knowledge of yours. You felt like a child who's crush had just been exposed to the whole class. Was he noting ever glance that you gave him? The way you didn't move when his arm brushed against yours?

A brief pause hung in the air until another thunder clap reverberated against the walls.

"So what's your mark?" You asked.

Logan shoved the cigar into the corner of his mouth. The biting motion forced him to flex his jaw in a way that you would refuse to admit made you start to realize that maybe the universe was right.

And that maybe his cockiness was justified.

He laid out his hands for you. The room was still dark, making the ability to discern the details of his scar impossible. Taking Logan's hands in yours, you summoned your magic into your hands, watching as they glowed gold.

Logan had two large, circular scars imprinted into his palms. It was a clear indicator of your own magical power that surged from your hands.

It left a feeling you couldn't describe in your chest to know that someone else was marked for you. They were destined for you. To be with you. You had a future written together before the two of you had met. Even if he rejected you, there was a sign etched into his skin that bound the two of you together in some fateful way.

Gently, you traced your fingertips against the mark, feeling the warmth that radiated from his palms.

When your eyes flicked upwards, you noticed how close the two of you were now sitting. You could feel his warm breath against your lips as the lingering smell of the cigar drifted up your nose.

Although he wouldn’t admit it, Logan was enchanted by the energy radiating from you. Whether people hated or loved him, his ability got a lot of talk. In his mind though, he would never be a hero. He was just some guy who got lucky.

You, though? He didn’t need you to tell him that you were an Omega level mutant. Logan had heard about you from the professor: you could cast spells, read minds, reconfigure reality- to name a few. You didn't need a reason to fight for what's right, you just did. Again, and again, and again. Even here, now, you were picking up Logan's history class when he knew very well you could be on the other side of the world sipping pina coladas if you wanted.

What the hell was the universe thinking putting you with him?

Logan admired the reflection of the magic on your cheeks and the way your eyes stayed trained on his palms. Your touch was so gentle he could have sworn he was in a distant dream until your eyes met his.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, gaze locked.

Then another clap of thunder shook the mansion.

You quickly leaned back, pulling your hands from Logan's touch.

"I should... I should go." You said, pushing yourself off of Logan's desk. "It's getting late and I have my first class in the morning."

Logan leaned back in his seat. He said nothing but eyes remained fixed on your form as you made your way towards the door.

Looking back at him with your hand on the knob you made a mental note to remember the image of him with his feet kicked back on the window as he smoked his cigar.

A soft smile remained.

"Good night, Logan."

When you didn't leave immediately, he nodded.

"Night, sweetheart."

Mustering up the courage to shoot him one last smile, you pulled open the door and stepped outside.

Now, Logan didn't know how much he believed in soulmates, but he could be inclined to consider that it was one good wingman.

Leaning back in his seat, Logan sighed and closed his eyes, letting himself drown out his worries with the sound of the rain.

a/n: my inbox is open for more requests! thank you for the request @welcometochilis585

[sonicboomseason3]

a brief recap of what has been going on with the sonic movieverse in the past several months:

paramount has come out in public support of israel

keanu reeves, a man who has publicly rubbed elbows with none other than benjamin netanyahu, reportedly gets cast as shadow for the upcoming third movie

james marsden, the guy who plays tom, got exposed as having written a letter of support for a convicted pedophile

there's fucking??? zionist propaganda in the knuckles series???

kind of connected to the last point but adam pally, the guy who plays wade, is evidently pro-israel too

this is a complete and utter joke.

EDIT AS OF 4/30/24: if people see this version of the post, i'd really appreciate it if you reblog it instead of the other versions, as it's the most updated one with all the information that i want included. thank you :]

you know, it's been a few days since i've made this post, and some of you (not most) are staying determined in defending/justifying/giving the benefit of the doubt to keanu for that photo with netanyahu, whether it's because "it was a decade ago," "him being civil to someone he ran into at a party one time doesn't mean anything," "he's probably just silent because his pr managers won't allow him to speak up," etc. i've made my thoughts on the matter quite clear by directly responding to these people, but at this point, i'm tired of both seeing them in my notes and repeating myself, so take this as my final word on the issue.

i can't help it if you don't think the photo with netanyahu is damning, and i'm done engaging with everyone going out of their way to tell me that. i obviously disagree, especially after finding out that 1. the host of the party, arnon milchan, is a former israeli spy who has a history of developing israel's nuclear program and promoting apartheid in south africa (information that had broken out a few months prior to the party and thus would've been fresh news around the time keanu chose to attend) and 2. keanu has been caught hanging around at least two other weirdos, but if you don't find any of that to be cause for reasonable concern, then there really is nothing else i can say afaik.

with all that said, i'm beginning to realize how strange it is that these people's first instinct when seeing this post is to start debating about keanu's political stances without ever acknowledging any of the other bullet points. you guys realize that this isn't just about him, right? i know tumblr reading comprehension is known for being piss-poor, but like… you realize that i was trying to make a point of how there are MULTIPLE terrible things that have broken out about the people and company involved in the sonic movies, right? and yet, a lot of the people leaping to speak on keanu's behalf in my notes are completely ignoring the parts where i bring up paramount, pally, etc. all in favor of zeroing in on the singular point about keanu and making bad faith assumptions about me for holding him accountable. really makes one wonder where your priorities lie if, in a post that talks about so many other things, me accusing an a-list celebrity with, according to google, a net worth of almost $400 million is where you draw the line and apparently the only thing worth your acknowledgment.

ultimately, what i'm trying to say is that the intention of this post was just to gather up everything that i had been hearing for the past several months and put it all together in one place. there were a bunch of people who didn't know about at least one of the bullet points before seeing this post, and i'm glad that i could help inform them, that was what i was hoping to do! but as for the keanu thing, i've said pretty much all i can say for now, and i don't want to derail the original post even more than i may have already. unless something new comes up, i'm done talking about him.

[smutstationchoochoo]

Desperate

COD Men x FemReader

Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.

Word count: ~3.6k

A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.

Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.

The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.

The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.

You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room. 

You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…

Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.

No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.

  Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?”  His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”

Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.

“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.

 You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-

But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.

“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.

He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.

“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.

 His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.

It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?  

You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.

The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.

The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment.  It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?

He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.  

He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.

His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.

He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up.  Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.

“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.

“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.

His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”

Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.

He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”

Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.

“Yes.”

This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.

You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.

“Well, I did say next time.”

This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)

[wolviensabes]

Logan gets jealous so he decides to make sure you know who you belong to. MDNI

I love jealousy scenarios so much. So here is one with Logan <3 Still figuring out how to write him so keep that in mind too. It came out to be much longer than I thought lmaooo. Possibly will revise later but for now I just wanted to get it out.

Rating: Mature/Smut

Warnings: Afab reader, jealous/possessive Wolvie, brief spanking, fingering, oral (both receiving and giving), deepthroat/throat fucking, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink. Unedited, I worked on this for three days and I'm too lazy.

WC: 5k

The moment you got home, he could smell it. That scent on your jacket, your shirt, your skin. It made his nose scrunch up in a way that was impossible to miss. He glared down at you, his eyes narrowing as that stranger's smell seemed to seep deeper into your skin with every passing second. You, completely oblivious to it all, casually hung up your jacket on the rack, not sensing the tension in the air. As you turned back to face him, you couldn't help but notice the intensity of his stare.

"What's wrong?" you asked, genuinely puzzled by the look on his face, which was now a mix of confusion and anger. His reaction made you take a step back, trying to understand what could have possibly caused such a strong response.

Sure, you weren't stupid. Logan was always protective of you, and maybe it was that asshole in the store who kept pestering you with questions about where certain groceries were located. Maybe it was because he stood so uncomfortably close that his shoulder brushed against yours, or perhaps it was the intrusive hand he splayed on your back. You felt a deep sense of discomfort with his touch, and tried giving him clear and concise instructions, hoping to get the man to leave you alone as quickly as possible. The whole situation made you feel uneasy, and Logan had seen it from down the aisle.

His first instinct was to slice that man into pieces and leave him on the ground, but he couldn't do that. Not in the middle of the grocery store anyway. He could feel his blood boiling and his muscles tensing up as he stared intently at the man walking off, every fiber of his being urging him to take action. You let out a breath of relief, feeling the tension dissipate slightly, and turned back to the shelves, trying to focus on the mundane task at hand.

Grocery shopping was one of your least favorite things. You didn't like being around so many people, and that man was a prime example of why.

With a shaky hand, you grabbed the bag of chips you wanted, hoping that the simple act of shopping would help you regain some sense of calmness. You couldn't help but glance over your shoulder, just to make sure the man was really gone, before continuing down the aisle to Logan's side.

He said nothing about it, so you assumed he wasn't concerned at all. This lack of reaction from him made you feel a little more grounded and reassured. If Logan wasn't reacting, then maybe that guy was just some harmless idiot and not someone to worry about.

You made the conscious decision to stick next to Logan for the rest of the trip, not bothering to split up and go farther down the aisle as you had done before. The silence between you and Logan seemed to confirm that everything was alright, and you found yourself relaxing more as you walked together.

But you were wrong about his outward stoicism. He was fuming inside.

Not at you, of course, but that man who had the nerve to touch you. Asking where something is in the grocery store already annoyed him, the damn aisles are numbered and have the product written above them. He could've just looked at the signs instead of talking to you and touching you.

Logan let out a deep, throaty growl, staring intensely at you now that you two were back home, the familiar surroundings providing a stark contrast to the tension in the air. "That bastard really pissed me off," he spat, his voice dripping with anger and frustration, his eyes darkened with a mixture of rage and possessiveness. "The damn nerve of him to come up and touch what isn't his," he continued, his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. Those deadly blades nearly poking out on instinct.

"That guy is what's bothering you?" you questioned softly, understanding how he might feel after witnessing the stranger be so close to you at the store, having the gall to actually touch you too. You weren't happy about it either, but you tried to keep your cool to show him it didn't bother you, even when it did, so he wouldn't react. "Logan, he was just an assho-"

Your voice was abruptly cut off as his hands slammed forcefully into the wall on either side of your head, creating a resounding echo. He was now standing directly in front of you, so close that you could feel the heat of his breath warming your face. The distinct smell of cigar smoke and musk emanated from him, enveloping you in their combined, heady aroma, you could feel your core clench and dampen.

Your heart pounded in your chest at the close proximity, feeling as though it might burst through your ribcage with each passing second. He took a deep breath, the rise and fall of his chest steady and rhythmic, almost hypnotic in the stillness of the moment. His eyes, which were usually dark and troubled, bored into you with an intensity that was both unsettling and captivating. Now, however, they held an expression you could only describe as fierce and feral, a primal emotion that sent shivers down your spine.

"You are mine, princess," he declared, his voice low and possessive. "Clearly, I don't show it enough now do I?" His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning and unspoken promises, leaving you breathless as your body was reacting quickly to his words.

His eyes scanned you, running down your body and to your core, his lips upturned in a smirk, "You naughty girl." His voice was gravelly, clearly enjoying the new scent of arousal that he could smell as obvious as a candle burning in front of you. He grabbed you, his calloused hands clasped around the back of your plush thighs and swiftly lifted you up and over his shoulder. He held you still as he turned and carried you effortlessly through the halls and up to your bedroom.

"Logan!" You let out a small yelp as you were effortlessly thrown over his muscular shoulder. He carried you with ease, striding confidently through the room, only to be answered with the quick swing of your body being thrown down onto the bed. You landed with a grunt, the impact bouncing you slightly on the mattress. You looked up at him, standing over you with a commanding presence. His eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. He reached down, tugging your pants off with a swift motion, letting them drop onto the floor by your feet.

"Hush..." he grumbled, his voice carrying a rough edge as he threw his shirt off with a swift motion. You couldn't help but stare at his chest and abdomen, packed with well-defined muscles that flexed and rippled as he tossed the shirt carelessly to the side. Each movement seemed to highlight his features, he glanced back down at you after he had thrown the shirt off, rolling his shoulders back.

You had seen him shirtless many times before, yet your reaction was always the same. It was as if his physique had a magnetic pull, making it impossible to look away. The sight of him never ceased to leave you in awe, and it seemed each time you saw him like this, you discovered something new to admire.

He lifted his hand slowly, fingers curling tightly to form a fist, and with a deliberate motion, one of his three adamantium blades began to slide out from within him. The slow, smooth sound of it grazing through his knuckles and tender flesh, emerging inch by inch until it was fully exposed, sent a shiver down your spine and made you swallow thickly. The gleam of the claw in the dim light only added to the tension, and you had a pretty clear idea of what he was going to do next.

He leaned down, the claw gently trailing from your knee and up your thigh, moving slowly and deliberately, right up until he reached your center. The sensation was both thrilling and unnerving. Most would flinch at having such a thing near them, the sharp metallic edge so close to their skin, (especially when it came to the person wielding it), but you didn't. You trusted him completely, and while you felt a mix of excitement and slight uncertainty fill you, you stayed still for him, your heart pounding in your chest.

As the claw continued its path until it laid against the center of your panties, you felt goosebumps rise from your skin, each tiny bump cause by the mixture of sensations rushing through you. The cool metal chilled your body, leaving what felt to be an icy trail on your warm skin, contrasting sharply with the heat of your own flesh. The experience was almost surreal, like a dance between fire and ice, and you found yourself lost in the moment, every nerve ending heightened, every touch magnified.

You could sense his intent, the care with which he moved, and it only deepened your trust. He'd never actually harm you, and besides, it was fun to include them. The blade traveled farther up your body, under your shirt until it poked out of your collar near your neck. He glanced at you before jerking his arm back and swiftly tearing your shirt completely in half.

Your gasp was loud and sudden, your eyes widening with shock as you watched him effortlessly rip your shirt off with his sharp claw. He trailed it slowly down your chest, gliding it with a deliberate and almost teasing motion across your body, allowing you to feel its cold, metallic touch on the tender and delicate skin of your soft belly. The claw was lethal, easily capable of inflicting ruthless injury or ending your life in an instant.

But he doesn't, and you know he wouldn't.

The thrill of the danger, the razor's edge between safety and peril, heightened your senses like never before, leaving you acutely aware of every sensation and emotion coursing through you.

You reached down with a deliberate, yet tender motion and gently held his wrist, feeling the warmth of his skin against your fingers. With careful precision, you guided his hand upwards to your chest, allowing his large palm to come to rest over your breast. His nostrils flared with a sharp breath, signaling his heightened awareness. Your tongue slowly emerged, and you carefully licked the side of his claw, a metallic taste and cool sensation on your taste buds.

The way your tongue slid over the blade, oh so carefully, made him growl and it retracted once he saw your tongue was safely out of the way. You whined quietly, you were having fun teasing him. "You wanna be a tease, do you?" His voice grunted out, he jerked you up and tossed you to the floor, your knees hit the carpet and you whined.

He paused only for a second, then he fiddled with his belt and tugged it out of the loops in one jerk. The act of that made you quiver below him, blinking up as he harshly unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down and his thick cock sprang out of his boxers. Red and angry, the tip completely blushed and shiny with the precum that had been spread on his tip.

His hand reached for your hair, grabbing onto it and tugging you closer. His cock brushed against your cheek as he used his other hand to position it at your mouth, "Open," he demanded lowly to you. Your jaw relaxed and your lips parted, allowing his salty tip to slide into your mouth.

You swirled your tongue around the blushed flesh, tasting and cleaning his sticky cockhead. He grunted in response, a pleased sound ripples through his throat as he pushed himself farther into your warm mouth. Your tongue was a soft cushion for the underside of his dick, he relished feeling it with each thrust into your throat.

Logan's grip tightened on your hair, his fingers tangling and pulling with a possessive intensity. He growled deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest, and pulled you even closer to him. You made a muffled whine, a desperate sound that escaped your lips, your eyes looking up at him from where you were below, wide and pleading. He almost looked completely feral, his eyes wild and dark with an unrestrained hunger. He huffed as his chest rose and fell quickly, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts, the tension between you almost palpable.

"You belong to me, princess. I'm going to make sure every single part of you remembers that. Even when I'm done fucking you." Logan growled out, watching his cock disappear in your throat as he thrust his hips forward. The sudden intrusion into your throat made your eyes widen and you gagged, not expecting him to do that.

"That's it, who's cock do you gag on? Mine. Who's cock do you like to suck on, hm?" He angled you more to look at him while keeping himself safely tucked into you mouth, the tip of his dick brushing up and down the fleshy, soft meat on the back of your throat. Bubbles of saliva popped at the corners of your mouth as he continued to thrust in and out of your throat, each time hitting the back and sliding down.

"Ugh, yeah...that's it...take it down, pup," he chuckled and watched you struggle to take him with each thrust, you still did your best to attempt to swallow all of him, knowing how it drives him crazy seeing you choke. "Slobber all over my cock, mine...the only cock that you get."

Logan grunted lowly, the sound vibrated from his chest and through his throat, his eyes closing as he focused and you could feel his dick twitching inside your mouth. "Here it comes, princess, be a good girl and swallow it." His voice was dominant and demanding, you prepared for his thick, heavy load that was soon to coat your tongue and slide down your throat.

His hips stuttered, his hold in your hair tightened and in one swift thrust, he was sheathed in your mouth. His cum began to flood across your tongue, giving you a slightly salty taste as it continued to spill out of his swollen dick. You had to swallow twice before you could finally breathe again, it felt like he was unloading everything he had. When he pulled out, he watched as his cock popped out, a gasp escaped your throat and your face messy from his thrusts. He grinned down, satisfied with how disheveled you were. "Look at you, such a mess."

You lifted your eyes up, swallowing the rest of his spunk and breathing heavily. You were breathless, your jaw ached and your throat felt bruised for sure. He took a step back and took you in, the image of you ingraining in his brain and blood flowed down to his cock. His fingers ran through your hair lightly but quickly tightened again, lifting you to stand.

Your legs felt shaky and unsteady from sitting on your knees for such a prolonged period, and you were still a bit dazed and disoriented from sucking his cock. The discomfort in your legs was matched by a slight buzzing throb in your head, making it difficult to regain your composure. "Ain't no one makes you such a pretty mess like this but me...you won't forget that. I don't give a damn who hears those sweet little noises that come out of your mouth."

He moved you onto the bed again, this time face down, and your belly hit the mattress with a rough huff. Logan's rough hands ran up the back of your bare thighs and over the round of your ass. "Such a sweet peach, princess..." he grabbed the meat of your ass and spread you open, gazing down at your holes.

He leaned in and inhaled your scent, making you squirm and whine his name, he groaned under his breath in response and spit onto your cunt. You could barely register what he was doing before you felt his tongue push inside and he began lapping at you like a starved man. His tongue curled and gathered as much of you as possible, tasting your arousal from the source as his pupils dilate with desire.

You can't help but moan as he ate you out, his hands kneading and groping your ass as he did so, snarling against your core while his tongue effortlessly assaulted and teased your clit. "You taste so damn good, look at you, soaked already..." he sat up and pushed two fingers inside to stretch you out, making you groan loudly from the sudden intrusion. "Logan!"

"Yeah...you like that don't you...feeling my fingers inside you. Haven't fingered you in a minute huh...feels good? You like when I curl 'em don't you...like..." he adjusted his wrist and he curled his fingers against that sweet, delicate spot inside you that makes you cry out in pleasure. "Yeah...that's it," he chuckled with amusement, hearing your pretty little noises. His calloused fingers rubbed mercilessly against that spongey wall and your legs began to tremble. Your fists gripped the sheets and you cried out against them, your pleasured noise muffled by the blankets. "That's what my girl likes..."

"Logan...oh god..." you whined desperately, rocking back into his fingers, chasing that sweet high that was soon to hit you and explode. "I'm gonna cum..." you rasped and did what you could to drive yourself there, the brink was so, so close...but just as he felt your walls slicken a little and tighten around his fingers, he retracted them. Right before you went over the edge, he denied you, making you groan in frustration. "Logan," you cried desperately and with slight frustration, "I was almost there!"

He had that shit-eating grin on his face, loving how desperate you became when you needed to climax. "Not so fast, sweetheart...I am going to fuck you until you can barely take it. And then some." Logan smacked your ass once, sending a sharp sting up your spine. The noise sounded loudly in the room and making you yelp slightly, your face felt hot and you bit your lip. "Maybe I should lay a few of these to ya...for begging so much...you'd like that wouldn't you? You naughty thing," He gave you another spank and you whined at the stinging sensation.

"L-Logan, please...I-I need you..." your voice was so desperate and pitiful, you could feel his hand on the small of your back, holding you still but not applying pressure. He didn't have to, he knew you'd lay perfectly for him, his pretty girl.

"I know...you need me huh? This poor pussy is so needy for me?" he chuckled, "You about broke my fingers with how tight you were. You gonna be that tight around my cock?" he asked, leaning over your body and placing a hot kiss to the side of your neck. The sensation of his lips on such a sensitive spot almost made you cry out. You felt like your body was on fire.

"Please! Please, I need you inside me! Don't tease me anymore...." your voice begged him, you wanted his cock stretching you out so badly...and he seemed to enjoy your desperation enough to give in. His cock head rubbed between your folds, he grinned and shuddered when he felt just how hot your core was.

Normally he'd just shove himself inside you, filling you up in one quick thrust, but not this time. He loved seeing you needy, especially after that bastard at the store had the audacity to touch you. The mere sight of it made his blood boil and his chest tighten with jealousy. He knew deep down that you hadn't done anything on purpose and that it wasn't your fault, but still, the image of it lingered in his mind. It gnawed at him, filling him with an almost unbearable urge to assert himself. He had to prove something to both you and himself. It was as if an uncontrollable fire had ignited within him, his primal instincts demanding him to take action.

He instead slowly began to push inside, his cock stretching your tight hole and you let out a loud whining cry. It wasn't enough; your desire for him was overwhelming, you craved all of him, every part of his being. Yet, he was deliberate in his actions, taking his time and being slow and precise with you, almost as if savoring each moment. His meticulous approach only heightened your instinctive need, making the yearning even more intense.

When he was fully inside, your cries for him grew even louder, your voice filled with a mix of desperation and desire. Your whining and squirming only intensified as you clung to him, feeling the overwhelming sensation of him deep within you. You wanted him to move, to give you the release you craved, but he remained still, demonstrating an incredible amount of self-control.

The way your body writhed against him drove him absolutely crazy; every movement you made sent shivers down his spine. He wanted nothing more than to hold you down, to keep you in place and listen to those beautiful, intoxicating sounds that escaped your lips, savoring every moment of your shared intimacy.

You were utterly intoxicating to him. His hips finally moved, pumping in and out of you with vigor and passion. Logan's firm hold on your plush hips made him groan and growl against your neck, his warm huffs of breath sending shivers down your spine and warming your skin. Each exhale created goosebumps all over the rest of your body, making you respond with pathetic sounds of pleasure. The heat radiating from him was intense, the man ran hot as it was and it felt like his entire body was a heater on high, intensifying the intimate connection between you both.

As his fingers dug slightly into your soft flesh, his deep desire for you became more apparent when he jerked your body closer to him as he continued to pound himself in and out of your tight cunt. "You love this cock don't you princess? Does it feel good...you are so desperate huh?" he whispered in a throaty, guttural voice, his lips grazing your ear as he held you flush against his body.

You felt tears prick your eyes as the intense feeling began to rush through your body, your pussy was so sensitive and he just kept pounding you. "Mhm....nngh yes..." you rasped weakly, "S-so good...so good Logan...y-you're making me bulge down there..." Your eyes widened slightly, seeing the lower part of your abdomen slightly show his dick from when he sunk into your sex.

"Only I get to make you scream and cry like this, hm? Only me. You love when I fuck you like an animal don't you? Do you want that?" he pushed you back into the bed, your arms wrapped around the pillow for any kind of support as you cried and felt him begin to pound into you even harder. The feeling of your slick warming even more from the friction made you scream in delight. It felt so incredible, no man has ever made you feel so fulfilled before...

"M'gonna put a fuckin' baby in you, gonna fill this pretty belly with my cum and watch you swell up. Then no one will touch you. You're claimed, no one will ever come up and touch you again, you're all mine," Logan hissed lowly and angled your hips up slightly, his cock hitting your cervix and teasing it with the promise of his cum.

Your body reacted to his movements by squeezing him, your velvet walls tightened around his dick and tried milking him even more as he thrusted and claimed you as his own. "My good girl...nngh...takin' my cock so good, fuckin' you to tears hm? No one else can get you this way, can they?" he growled against your skin, holding you desperately close as his hips drove into you more and more.

"Logan, I'm gonna cum...please, let me cum," you whined pitifully, tears rolled down your cheeks as you succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure he was providing your body. Every word that came from his mouth went straight to your clit and you were attempting to milk him before he was ready to climax himself.

"So needy... You really want to? You think you deserve it?" he asks in a low, almost mocking tone, chuckling to himself as he watches you with an intense gaze. Your tears stream down your face, and you mewl pathetically, your desperate cries echoing in the room, each sound seemingly fueling his amusement even more.

The scent of your arousal filled his nose and it drove him into you even more, his His hips stuttered, attempting to push faster than before, driven by a desperate need to increase the pace. Logan groaned deeply, the sound resonating through the room, his arms tightly wrapped around your midsection, pulling you closer. His muscular chest tightened with effort, every sinew straining as he used all the power he had to continue pounding you with relentless intensity. His skin, now slick with a light layer of sweat, pressed damply against your back, providing a heated contrast to the cool air. His chest hair was slightly tousled and damp, scratched along the skin of your back as his hips thrusted.

"Logan, I can't hold it any longer...please let me-" you rasped desperately, your entire body trembling and screaming at you to let it all go. Every muscle was tense, fighting against the overwhelming urge, yet you craved his permission more than anything. You needed to hear him say you could, to feel that moment of release granted by his word...

"Alright pretty girl, come for me, let it out, cum all over my cock...let me know how good I make you feel~" Logan urged you on and his hands roamed up your body, grasping your breasts and gently pinching and rolling your nipples in his index and thumb. That was all your body needed to go over the edge.

You felt an intense wave of adrenaline and warmth spread from your core, radiating throughout your entire body. Overwhelmed by the sensation, you cried out Logan's name, your voice a mix of desperation and euphoria. As your head became fuzzy and dazed, the feeling of pure ecstasy washed over you, filling your senses to the brim. You were completely overcome by the powerful emotions, your body trembling with the intensity as his cock mercilessly continued to pound into you.

"Ohh yes...that's it princess...let it out baby...cream on my dick," he groaned in your ear, the sound making you clench harder, if that were possible. His hips finally began to falter and he leaned over you to let gravity help his rutting. "M'gonna fill you up, til y'r dripping with me." Logan's eyebrows were knit tight and he let out a loud groan as his hips finally stopped, pushing hard against you as he reached his peak.

His cock kissed against your swollen cervix and he unloaded his orgasm deep into you, shooting rope after hot rope of cum until you were so full it began to ooze out around him. The sensation of it dripping down his balls made him snarl, he pulled out just enough to see it slowly coming out of your pretty, swollen pussy before he used his cock to swipe it up and push it back in.

"Keep it in there, sweet girl...keep all of me in you. You love it, being so full of my seed it leaks out of you." He reached around and teasingly wrapped his hand around your neck to give a gentle squeeze.

You, in a complete daze, so high on your climax you could barely think. He hadn't fucked you this hard in so long. You babbled lightly, attempting to form coherent words, but you weren't able to construct a complete sentence. He chuckled softly, his warm breath and lips brushing lightly against your temple. "Atta girl...so dizzy," he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Did I make you feel good? Hm?" Logan almost purred against you, his voice low and soothing, as you felt the gentle vibrations of his chest reverberate against your back, adding a comforting aspect to the intimate moment.

"Now, now...you just rest. You did so good for me." He placed a gentle kiss to your temple, pulling you to lay on him and reluctantly pulling himself out of you. "We can clean up later...right now, I want you here." He held your body close, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he adjusted a bit to make you more comfortable.

He felt pride and satisfaction when he smelled you, leaning down to inhale lightly. He no longer sensed that awful stench the stranger had left on you from before. Now, it was just his own scent imbedded in your skin, his claim on your was loud and clear to him and it would be to everyone else too. He continued to hold you, his warmth surrounding you, creating a cocoon of security.

You were far too tired to argue. Every bone in your body felt like it was weighed down by an invisible force, and the idea of cleaning up seemed like an insurmountable task. You would clean up later, but for now, you needed a moment to recover from your high and daze. The room felt like it was spinning slightly, and the only thing grounding you was his presence and firm arms wrapped around your body. You were happy laying with him, despite that smug ass smirk he had on his face when he observed you. His eyes had a glint of amusement, and you didn't know why he seemed so full of himself until you saw yourself in the mirror half an hour later.

When you caught your reflection, you were shocked to find your skin covered in dark bruises, all adorning your neck and shoulders. It was then you understood the reason behind Logan's self-satisfied expression. There was no way you could cover these, and he made sure of that.

"Logan!!"

That bastard.

Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list by leaving a 🧡.

dividers by @/strangergraphics

[aliidarling]

im preying on you tonight

GHOSTFACE x fem!reader

nsfw content — pls scroll if uncomfortable!

summary; you’re at a haunted house and have a bad experience with these annoying scare actors 🙄

warnings: blood and gore, smut, p in v, non con, rough sex, no protection, fondling, fingering, creampie, penetration, mean ghostie, size kink, intended dacryphillia

meant so you can imagine any male ghostface :)

nsfw content below !!

this time of the year was always gloomy and dark, the forest air foggy and limiting the man’s view. his mask didn’t allow him much access anyways, but all these branches hitting him in the face as he ran wasn’t the best either.

he could hear the girls loud crying from in front of him, her wheezing and low coughing. he had to hand it to her, she was managing to still run away from him with stab wounds and several scratches. some of his victims gave up immediately the second they saw his shrieked expression, but no, not this girl. he was slightly amused by it, but also annoyed.

this dumb blonde had somehow managed to drag him all the way into this forest, dirtying his robe. he swore, he could feel the splinters pricking at his skin. her screaming for help didn’t help his annoyance either.

in the distance he caught a glance of a large amusement park, the trees slowly moving out of the way and showing the night sky more clearly. the wind blew, the loud music becoming more and more clear. the girl noticed as well and started to run towards the open gate. he tsk’d under his breath, stopping for a moment to catch his breath, before continuing his sprint. he tucks his knife into his robe and looks at where the girl is headed.

straight towards a haunted house. a tall, black house with gothic exterior and cobwebs decorating the windows. he could see the led lights from the front, the large sign with all the information written down on it.

anger washed over him as the girl ran into the house through the back door, leaving her bloody trail behind her. why was his job so hard? this girl should of dropped dead minutes ago. adrenaline was a silly thing.

at the front of the haunted house, you stood gazing at the sign with an unsure expression. you had come here with friends a few hours back, all dressed up in cute little halloween outfits in celebration of the spooky holiday. but not even a hour in everyone split up and left you all alone. what a shitty friend group.

to your left you caught a glimpse of a figure running into the back of the haunted house. you frowned and took a peek, watching as a dark robe followed in after her in a hurried manner. weird.

anyways, the sign said admission fee was seven dollars. wasn’t too bad, you guessed. you hesitantly handed the employee a ten dollar bill and waltzed in.

the inside was dark with a fog machine taking up the hallways, giving it an eerie aura. the lace curtains, the dark furniture, the tall paintings of people you had never seen before— this seemed like an actual house more then a haunted one. it was all part of the gig, right?

you wandered into the kitchen, only to get jumpscared by a scare actor that was almost twice your size. he was dressed as a beast, hiding in the corner. with a scream, he pounced at you and caused you to stumble back and drop your soda all over your top. gasping for air, you looked up at him with a pissed off expression, fingers trembling.

the man stared at you for a few seconds with an unsure look, before shrugging and shuffling into the darkness once again, looking for another unsuspecting victim to scare.

“great, just great.” you mutter bitterly to yourself. you sigh tiredly and throw your empty bottle into the garbage, patting some droplets off your top.

you were dorothy for halloween, matching with the rest of your friend group. you were all fairy tale characters. …a more slutty version of them, that is. you had on a blue plaid dress that stopped at your mid thigh, red flats, with your hair styled with cute bows keeping it in messy pigtails.

your pretty blue dress was now covered in soda though, so that wasn’t the greatest. you took another minute to look around the kitchen, flinching at a spider that you realized was fake after a minute, almost slipping on some cobwebs, before shrieking when another scare actor dressed as a bloody bride came out of nowhere.

today was not your day, not in the slightest.

"AAAAH!" a sudden scream from the hallway catches your attention. you shriek and turn quickly, blinking for a moment before shuffling forward and creeping into the door that leads to the hallway. there's a blood trail on the floor that leads to the staircase. that must mean the haunted house wants you to follow it, right? is this one of those haunted houses that has a specific pathway so you can experience every part? probably.

"mmmm, okay." you say to yourself, shrugging and following it up the stairs. it's slippery. you cringe and reluctantly look around the upstairs. scary music plays obnoxiously loud in the background, the lights flickering to give a mysterious feeling and a creepy edge. it's working. working too well.

a door slams to your left and you flinch, looking in that direction immediately. you see the same black robe flash in the distance, the same robe you've seen already. what a committed scare actor. was he targeting you? or were you just witnessing him scaring his other victims?

"SOMEONE! HELP ME!" a girly shriek resonates from said room. you blink dumbly for a moment, looking at the other doors that have cobwebs and poorly drawn blood platters on them, some doors having signs on them. one sign said “danger ahead!” and another said “beware of ghosts!”.

after a moment of thinking you slowly walked down the hallway into the dark room, looking around in surprise. it was a media room that was completely wrecked. the couch had its fabric ripped with stab marks all over it, blood marks, and some stuffing spilling out of it. the table was thrown onto its side with the glass vase shattered.

at the end of a room was a large door with decor hanging off it. you stepped forward and opened it slowly, blinking in surprise as you were immediately met with a reflection of yourself. your lips parted in awe as you realized it was a mirror maze. what creeped you out was the bloody hand marks on the mirrors. this haunted house was very realistic. you didn’t like it.

you walked forward, only to immediately head butt into a mirror. you blinked rapidly in shock and looked around, patting your surroundings and trying to find the pathway to the exit. another long minute passes as you pat the wall, letting it lead you deeper and deeper into the maze.

someway through your little adventure someone suddenly rams into you, making you shriek and give the mirror in front of you another headbutt. she gasps and curls into you, tugging at your clothing and crying out annoyingly loud.

"okay buddy, i don't think scare actors are supposed to get physical-" you grumble, swatting at her clammy hands. she cries and cries, blood all over her clothing and her face covered in tears.

"please! please! h-he's chasing me a-and i-i"m so s-scared and i don't want to d-die—" her voice cracks a dozen times as she sobs into your chest, pulling you closer and closer until you both are pressed together like lovers. you squirm in discomfort, not liking how personal she was getting. you were pretty sure scare actors weren't supposed to cross boundaries like this.

"okay, please get off me." you hiss sharply, gently pushing her away. she sobs more and shakes her head, silently begging you to listen to her. she can barely utter out any words, limping in pain with several stab wounds under her clothing.

she pales as she looks behind you. you turn hesitantly, not wanting to turn your back to this crazy lady. you see the reflection of a shrieked mask, making you flinch and hug the girl in your arms.

“okay, uhm, you guys are very good at your job—“ you chuckle nervously, hugging the girl tightly. she was shorter then you, her head tucked into your chest. she was trembling so much. you frowned.

“are you.. okay?” you asked hesitantly.

“he STABBED me!” she shrieks, aggressively tugging at your hands and showing you her stomach. right there laid a gigantic bloody wound, blood dripping down onto her skirt. your face paled even more and you stood there like an idiot, face to face with this girl who had a gigantic stab mark.

“o-okay— okay— let’s get, let’s get out of here? okay? you’re safe with me,” you shush her gently, helping her walk as you hurriedly pull her alongside you. you lead her to the entrance of the maze, backtracking your pathway. you mostly just followed the bloody hand marks from earlier, though.

the next few minutes is a blur. you’re helping her down the stairs, she’s crying and hyperventilating, you’re freaking out because the blood is looking too real and the creepy music in the background isn’t helping. your heart is pounding and you don’t know what to do.

as you help her down the stairs, she grasps onto your shirt with a terrified look, tugging you. “h-he’s following us!” she screeches. you blink at her for a moment, frowning in fear and not looking where you’re stepping. you open your mouth to respond to her, only to step on air. you send the both of you stumbling down, a scream leaving her as the hard wood digs into her wounds.

you gasp sharply, squinting your eyes to clear your blurry vision. you turn to your side to check on the terrified blonde, only to gape in shock at the sight of her limp on the floor. her eyes are lazily fluttering open and shut, the blood from her gut spilling out. the impact had made her wound deeper and probably set her on the waiting list for the afterlife. and it was all your fault.

“h-hey— hey- hey—“ you choke out, getting up and hurrying to her, patting her face and trying to get her to respond. your hands are full of blood as you inhale deeply, your heart about to jump out of your chest. she looks up at you with all the strength she has, lips moving weakly.

"b..behind you." she whispers.

your heart stops. you blink down at her pale face and slowly peek over your shoulder. down the hall is a tall man in a robe, a white glowing mask on his head. the fog surrounds him as he tilts his head at you, silently watching. you couldn’t see his eyes but goosebumps immediately spread all over your body, making you squirm in discomfort. he didn’t look like a scare actor. no, he looked like the black blur you’ve been seeing all day.

his hunting knife was covered in blood, and that was all you needed to know before you broke out into a sprint in the opposite direction of him. the hallways were closing in on you as you rushed down towards the back door, the screams of the girl echoing throughout the house. you could hear the knife slashing at her, making your eyes water in fear.

you didn’t want to die. no, you were too young! too pretty, too kind, too— you hadn’t even graduated yet. you still wanted to earn your bachelor's, go out on more dates, and get more friends. but no, you couldn’t anymore, because you were about to get butchered by some psycho in a halloween costume.

your sweaty hands pulled and tugged at the door handle, blinking away the tears. you sniffled, your heart somehow dropping further down into your stomach as the door didn’t budge.

“awww, no no sweetie, you’re stuck in here with me. they already shut down the entire park.” you hear his menacing voice coo from behind you. it was dark and deep, a mockingly soothing tone. maybe it would of lulled you to sleep in any other situation. it sends shivers down your spine and a hiccup leaves your throat.

“who are you? why are you doing this?” you mumble hesitantly, your voice small in the gigantic house. he tsk’s at you, waving his knife in a wagging motion at you.

“no, you don’t get to ask questions, sweetheart. you’re a dumb little bitch who got involved in things that didn’t concern her.” he growls darkly, stepping closer and closer. you back to your left and rush behind the couch, shaking. he laughs at your pathetic attempt at getting something in between you two.

“why would you kill her?! is this some sick prank?!” you snap, some tears streaming down your face as he simply shrugs. shrugs.

“what the fuck.” you whisper at him, the sight of her blood all over him making you sick to your stomach. as if you could drop to your knees and vomit. you might, actually.

before you can react, he jumps over the couch and grabs you. you scream as he shoves you face first into the couch, quickly straddling your body. you thrash underneath him, sobbing and shaking your head, letting out incoherent mess of please don’t kill me and i’ll do anything. he’s slightly annoyed by how loud you are. should be cut your vocal records so you don’t gain attention? but then again, no one is near by. no one to hear your pretty screams except him.

his heavy knife glides alongside your spine, his hand only applying light pressure. you hear the sound of your dress getting ripped and more tears slip, your lips quivering as you squeeze your eyes shut. you shiver as the cold air brushes against your back, the back of your bra being revealed to him. what a day to wear your favorite set, right?

“look at you, dressed like a god damn slut. you wanted this, didn’t you?” he hissed, hooking one of his fingers underneath the clasp and snapping it against your skin. he chuckled lightly at your girly squeak. your hands squirm some more and he huffs in annoyance, grabbing them and shoving them above your head.

“keep them right there, got it? you move them and i’ll cut your wrists open, stupid girl.” he bonks the back of your head hard. you yelp and nod, shaking as you hold your hands together tightly above your head just as he asked. more soft cries leave you as he pulls the back of your dress further apart, goosebumps all over your porcelain skin.

“why are you doing this?” you force the words out of your throat, leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. it might be blood.

“because i can.” he hums simply, running his fingers down your spine. his hands unclasp your bra and slip it off your body, and you squirm as your nipples press against the scratchy fabric of your dress. you quietly mewl into the couch.

“you don’t need to do this. i-i have money— not much, but i have some,” you beg desperately, trembling as his large body presses you more into the cushion. you felt like you were getting suffocated. you were so overwhelmed and scared, covered in blood and getting stripped down by the reason.

“you think i need your money?” he scoffs, shoving his hands uder your chest and groping your breasts. you squeal hard as he meanly fondles and squeezes them, his large hands covering a lot. his fingers pinch your nipples, causing you to whine loudly into the couch. you can’t help that they harden right away, your body becoming more sensitive to his touch. moans start to slip from your throat as you feel his knee lodge itself between your thighs.

he roughly grinds his jeans fabric against your panties, your skirt lifted and showing the lewd sight of the thin fabric sticking to your messy cunt. the denim material of his jeans is rough and hard, applying a good enough amount of friction to lubricate you further.

little moans leave you involuntarily, trying your best to muffle them by biting down on your bottom lip. your thighs squirm and attempt to close, but it only ends up trapping the man’s knee against your pussy. more rubbing has you crying and moaning, subtly grinding your pussy back onto him. he, of course, notices and swats the back of your head again, your moans stuttering.

“look at you, getting off on this shit.” he whispers into your ear, leaning down so his chest is against your back, his mask is pressing against your head. his hands don’t stop their assault on your breasts, marking them up with hard pinches and twisting your nipples until you're begging him to let go. “i didn’t expect you to be such a down bad slut.” he sneers.

“s-shut up..” you sniffle, your voice muffled and your body covered entirely by his robe. if someone walked in they’d see a small girl getting completely smothered by some dude in a halloween costume. this couldn’t be any more embarrassing.

"s-shut up." he mocks in a high-pitched voice, giving an extra harsh twist to your nipple. he gets harder at the sound of your pained cry. he smiles creepily under the mask as he presses his large hand to your panties, rubbing your clit through the thin soaked material. your body squirms at the feeling of having your sensitive core played with, rubbing your wet face against the cushion in a weak attempt to wipe your tears.

"dont touch me— no, not there- stop!" you gasp desperately, whimpering into the cold air as he keeps rubbing your clit and touching you right where it feels so good. the savory sensation had your lips parting subconsciously and your thighs inching away from each other. you're ashamed of the way you're enjoying this, how you're begging in your head for him to slide his fingers nice and deep.

"i can feel how wet you are, damn. you must really want me to ruin this little cunt of yours, huh? gonna beg?" he sniggered, sliding his fingers underneath and letting the small brush of his middle and ring finger against your hole be all you feel. his eyes are burning through the back of your head, inhaling each movement and sound you make, analyzing your reactions and how you take his touch.

"m'not gonna beg. i'll gonna beg for you to get your dirty ass hands off me—" you're interrupted by him sliding his two fingers deep inside you, immediately curling them painfully into your g-spot. the pleasure takes you so off guard you let out a pathetic mewl, bucking your hips in surprise. his free hand comes down on your waist, holding you down into the couch as he fingers your pussy open roughly.

"what was that?" he hums, pushing them impossibly deeper, scraping the rough fabric of his gloves against your walls and making you cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain. "I'm sorry, did you say something?" he said in a sick tone. he was having so much fun, it's not everyday he gets to fuck his victims. most of the time they're too annoying and he finds himself hating their guts personally after hearing the colorful words they call him.

more little moans leave you as he makes scissoring motions, his grip on your waist bruising and making you hiss softly in pain. his fingers are large and taking up all the space inside you, making you feel so full and satisfied. it felt so good, so good that you were sick to your stomach at how much you were enjoying it. you could feel her blood coating your skin, making you gag softly on your moans as he kept going.

soon enough, you bite back your loud moan as your body cums all over his fingers, coating his gloves in your essence. he rubs the sticky fluid between his fingers with a chuckle of amusement, watching as the blood and cum mix together.

“you’re a filthy slut, you know that? ive killed soooo many people,” he starts, humming softly as he pushes the bottom of his robe aside to unbutton his flip, revealing his dark boxers. the large bulge is visible as you peer over your shoulder with a heavy breath.

“separated families,” he continues, talking in an innocent voice as his hands grasp at his cock. his top springs against his lower abdomen, nice and big with a thick base. you gulp nervously. “ruined lives—“ he coo’s sickeningly sweet.

“and now i’m gonna ruin yours.” he grabs your hips, position his tip against your hole. he gives you barely a second to process his words before he slams himself deep inside you, causing you to shriek and press your face down into the couch.

“a-ah~ s-stop.. wrong..” you blabber cluelessly, your brain all soapy and spilling out of your ears. your body felt weak and limp, giving into his touch as he gave a few shallow thrusts, your moans giving him more encouragement.

“wrong?” he mocks, one hand grabbing your hair roughly to pull at it. you shriek at the harsh tug, your head forced back as he starts to rock his hips at a mean pace. “for someone who hates this, you’re awfully wet and compliant.”

you feel his hard denim slap against your butt each time he sends a punishing thrust into your pussy, more moans streaming out of you. your eyes are fluttering shut as he batters your insides, mouth agape with drool forming at the edge. the sight was slutty— a young girl with her dress all ripped up and her skirt lifted getting fucked by halloween enthusiast.

“feels so good,” you hiccup, sniffling your fat tears as your doe eyes tried their best to stay open, squinting through the tears. your breasts bounce and sway, bubble butt jiggling at his thrusting. he wasn’t letting back on you, not at all.

“you want me to make you cum, sweetheart? hmmm? you want these hands that’s stabbed dozens of people to rub that tiny clit of yours?”

“please.” you say in such a pathetic tone that he can’t help but obey, his hand on your hair letting go to reach under you and gently tap your clit, his pace not stopping for a split second.

“this right here?” he pinches. you whimper and nod, shaking. he snickers and rubs figure eights into your bud, the immediate reaction of your body tightening up on him making him hiss sharply.

“jesus fuckin’ christ, girl. tight ass pussy, huh?” he gives your butt a hard smack. you whine at the impact, cock drunk and not processing a single thing anymore. he focuses on making you climax and grabs your hip tightly, holding you still as he starts shoving his cock as deep as it can go.

your noises grow more high pitched, letting him know he was on the right path. he can feel himself grow harder and more stiff, about to be pushed over the edge. incoherent curses and grunts leave him as he tenses up behind you, still rubbing your clit hard as his cock explodes inside you. his cum paints your walls white, groaning as he fucks you harder.

he feels you clamp down and release as well, a loud sigh leaving you as your body goes limp, your ass being held up by him being the only thing not flat against the couch. the second he lets go of your hips, it drops onto the couch. you groan weakly, cum all over your thighs and dripping down onto the couch.

he stares at your ruined form a few seconds, debating on wether he should stab you now and make a run for it. but then he remembers his dna is currently painting your insides and he sighs. he wipes some of the cum off your leg and fingers it back into you, your caught off guard squeal giving him some motivation to keep you alive.

“shut it.” he jabs the last of the cum into you before parting, patting your butt and smoothing your skirt back down. he glances at your purse that was hanging off the side of the couch, thrown off you at some point, and grabs it. he finds your wallet inside and peeks at your id, blinking at your name. he makes sure you’re not looking(you’re too busy being half conscious face down) and takes a quick photo of your address and number as well as your pretty body under him.

pulling away, he makes sure to tell you one last thing. he roughly grabs your hair and yanks it back, awakening you immediately from your daydreams. you shriek and blink terrified at his bloody mask, eyes blinking widely in shock.

“tell anyone about this and i’ll kill your entire family and force you to watch.” he then proceeds to list your entire name and address, making you gape at him like a dumb puppy, clueless on how he had this information.

“y-yes- yes!” you nod, sniffling with your watery eyes. he gives a condescending pat on the cheek before disappearing down the hall as if this never happened. you lay there on the couch confused before hesitantly getting up and shivering as cold air brushes against the back of your ripped dress.

“uhmmmm….. hello..?” you call out awkwardly to the hall. you peek and see him standing over the blondes dead body, about to grab her by her ankles to assumingely drag out the back door. he stops to stare at you wordlessly.

you frown and motion to your ripped dress. his reaction takes a few seconds to happen but he eventually grabs the hoodie off the dead girl and throws it at you aggressively. you jump and catch it, cringing at the blood and stench. you fucked a murderer and now you have to deal with the consequences.

“thanks.” you choke out before running out the back door. he rolls his eyes at you before continuing to drag the dead body out.

it had been a few days since the incident. he had been haunting your thoughts, making you wonder what the hell was wrong with you to let yourself get fucked by a serial killer.

you had decided to search him up and attempt to find out who he was. all you found out was that there were killings in the near by towns that all linked the one name— ghostface.

you sat on your couch with your feet up on your. coffee table, laptop open on your lap with a dozen tabs open. each tab was a different articles about him, some about his killings, other about the mysterious surrounding his identity. no one had a real idea on who he was or what his motive was— only that he was a force to be reckoned with.

your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar name being said on the tv. you look up and your heart drops as you see her blonde hair and bright blue eyes stare at you from across the room. there she was— on the tv, smiling innocently. her full name was below the photo of her sitting with her friends and her age.

rebecca garcia

age 19

found dead behind halloween horror nights amusement park, her body cut up and put in several bags. she was stabbed repeatedly in the stomach before eventually dying by the hands of the local serial killer, ghostface.

your stomach turned inside out as you maintained eye contact with the photo of the happy girl. the news reporter shared how the town would be on high alert the next few weeks, alerting us of keeping our doors locked and keeping your eyes out for any suspicious behavior. the report ended with a god bless apology to families.

the silence that followed after was deafening, your heartbeat being the only thing you could hear. your palms felt too clammy and the couch was too rough, your clothes pricking at your skin and your eyes welling up with tears. everything felt too real and too close.

the sound of your phone ringing broke the silence, making you flinch. you peered over, blinking through the tears as your shaky fingers picked up your phone and brought it to your eyes.

you frowned in confusion at the unknown number, sighing gently before picking it up and bringing it to your ear. before you could open your mouth, the voice of your nightmares spoke.

“what’s your favorite scary movie, doll?”

[pathologicalreid]

litmus test | s.r.

in which Spencer needs your expertise to help solve a murder, but crime fighting is most decidedly not for you

find more chemist!reader here!

who? spencer reid x chemist!reader category: flangst (like. the end is a little angsty and it has case details) content warnings: typical cm violence, science talk, fem!reader, reader is not built for crime, morgan being an older brother, some fun banter!! death by firework is crazy lmao word count: 1.68k a/n: this is one of my favorite fluff pieces i've written in agessss i missed chemist!reader so much i learn so many things when i'm writing her. this was a request! i hope you like it as much as i do!!

“Do you have a second?” Spencer asks, his voice slightly choppy over the phone. Between his ancient phone and being inside concrete police precincts, some disconnect was bound to happen.

Saving your document to your computer, you rest the lab phone between your shoulder and ear, “If you’re asking me if I have any corrosive chemicals in my hands, the answer is no.”

He chuckles lightly, “I never know with you.”

You roll your eyes in response, even if he can’t see you, “It was one time and I needed a new phone case anyway.”

“You fused the plastic of your phone case to the material of your phone,” he retorts far too quickly for your liking.

“Yes,” you acquiesce, “but I know the exact chemical reaction that caused that phenomenon.” You cross your legs one over the other, maintaining your balance on your lab stool as you speak to Spencer over the phone.

He gave a light hum in response, “Speaking of chemical reactions – I need your help.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, “You’re asking me for help in chemistry?” There really was a first time for everything, you suppose.

Spencer was more than capable of navigating a lab on his own, even so, he admits, “You have more applied practice than I do.”

Pursing your lips, you nod to yourself, “Fair enough. What’s stumping you, Dr. Reid?” Your inquiry, while innocent enough, garners a wolf whistle from your graduate assistant.

“There’s something burning a hole in these bones, and I’m not sure what would be causing it to happen this fast,” he explains, giving you minor background information on how long the bones were out and if the medical examiner had treated them with something.

You clear your throat, frowning at the notes you had scrawled down in front of you, “Burning or corroding?” What was seemingly a meaningless distinction would actually allow you to filter through approximately half of the possibilities.

“Corroding,” he corrects himself, “My mistake.”

Crossing off some of your notes, you purse your lips at the new possibilities, “No worries. Did you try flushing it out with water?”

You hear papers flipping on his end of the call before you get a response, “That would destroy evidence.”

“Well,” you raise your eyebrows, “It sounds like your evidence is destroying itself.”

“Baby,” Spencer says in a no-nonsense tone reserved for when he was deep in a case. You could’ve sworn you heard Morgan in the background of the call mocking him for the pet name.

Turning back to your notes, you sigh, “Yeah, yeah, all work and no play. Was the body buried?”

“Partially,” his reply intrigues you, “I can have Garcia send you the crime scene photos if you think it’ll help.”

Wrinkling your nose at the thought, you made an unsure sound, “Right, because nothing says lunchtime like getting up close and personal with a homicide victim.”

“What lunchtime? It’s three pm in D.C. right now,” he caught you, a slight chiding tone in his words.

Ignoring his questions, you ask more of your own, “Was the body near water? Did they test the pH of the soil and water?”

There were more papers flipping, likely someone presenting the results of those tests to him, “Yeah, the soil was a five-point two and the water was a seven-point eight,” he listed off for you.

While your knowledge of the pH of the soil in Iowa was limited, you did know that those levels were pretty on par for the northern Mississippi River. “O-kay,” you say, extending your vowels, “and they didn’t find anything else on the scene that points to corrosive materials. Hydrofluoric acid?” You posit, “No, you know what – maybe you should send me those files. My work email is encrypted, you can give it to Penelope.”

He speaks to someone else in the room with him and you resist the urge to ask him if he’s enjoying Iowa, “It’s sent,” he confirms with you.

Pulling up your email only takes a moment, and once you get over the initial shock of seeing a dead body on your computer screen, you lift your lab glasses to the top of your head in order to get a better look. “I mean,” you think for a moment, “those look like alkali burns to me. I’ve never seen them on bones before, but you should do a litmus test to check either way.”

“So, we rinse it with water?” He asks, seeking instruction from you in a way that makes you feel oddly powerful.

Your eyes widen, “No, no, no. If it’s a metal compound then it’ll be covered in a mineral oil, so rinsing it with water would actually make the burn worse.”

Pausing for a moment, you consider the possibility that Spencer didn’t have the luxury of time – he was trying to solve a murder, not do experiments in a lab.

“Alkali burns can be serious, it all depends on what caused them, and most are helped by rinsing with water. So, unless you have the time to test for metal compounds, I’d go ahead and rinse it. You might want to brush the damage to the bones with a dry brush first. If there’s lime on the bones it’ll foam, which not only will corrode the bones even further but it might release a toxic gas,” you have no idea how the corrosion would interact with bone marrow, but something tell you that you don’t want to know

“Wait a minute,” Derek interjects, being included in the conversation now that Spencer put the call on speaker, “I thought things like alkaline water were good for you.”

You scoff instinctively, “Oh, there’s no definitive evidence that shows alkaline water as having any real health benefits. Especially not the benefits that the internet says it has.” Straightening up in your stool, you continue, “In fact, there is evidence from the NIH that says drinking alkaline water could cause kidney damage. There’s a particular-“

“My bad,” he interjects, effectively stopping your rambling before it really took off, “I forgot whose girlfriend I was talking to.”

Groaning at your new vexation, you huff, “Oh, fuck off, Derek. Go kick down a door.”

Spencer quickly switches the phone back, “Thank you, angel.”

Squinting at the photos that were still on your laptop screen, a crude, disturbing thought came to mind, “You know, sparklers can cause alkali burns. It might be something to consider because of the diameter of the burns.”

Your boyfriend was silent on his end of the call for so long that you had to check and make sure the call hadn't dropped. “Did you say sparklers?”

“Yep,” you confirm, “like the ones you can get everywhere this time of year.”

He says something to Morgan, placing his hand over the receiver so you can’t hear, “There’s only one spot in this town, though. I’ve gotta go, see you soon.”

“Stay safe, please! I prefer your bones unburned,” you rattle off into the phone before it clicks, placing the phone back on the stand and deleting the crime scene photos from your inbox.

The front door to the apartment opens and shuts quietly, with Spencer under the assumption that you already went to bed, he was surprised to find you on the couch, nursing a cup of tea. “Hey, baby,” he chirps, unusually peppy for this time of night.

“Hey,” you say half-heartedly, threading your fingers through the handle of the mug.

Your somber tone gets Spencer’s attention, “What’s wrong?”

The slight panic in his voice causes your eyes to snap up to his, “Nothing,” you murmur. “It’s just… the woman who was in those pictures. There- the burns on her bones, they were signs of torture, weren’t they?”

You’d been thinking about the burns ever since Spencer showed them to you, “Yes,” he answers with a reciprocating softness, sitting down next to you on the couch. “The medical examiner concluded that she was burned antemortem.”

That woman had been burned alive by fireworks, sparklers had seared their way through skin and muscle until it finally met her bones. You blink a few tears from your eyes at the thought, “I like my lab, Spence.”

The confusion on his face was palpable, “I know you do.”

“I like my minimal human interaction and my chemicals, and I like knowing why certain things cause certain reactions. I like it when things make sense.” You take a deep, shaky breath, “Killing someone. Torturing someone with fireworks. That just doesn’t make sense to me.”

You had no interest in hearing the excuses that the killer had provided. You had no interest in hearing the psychological breakdown of that woman’s killer. Spencer knows that, “The photos got to you?”

Taking a sip from your mug, you nod solemnly, “I can’t stop thinking about the way it must have felt. Oh, the smell must have been horrible. That poor woman.” In theory, it was a ridiculous notion, killing someone with fireworks seemed neither probable nor possible. Yet here you are.

“But we got the person who killed her,” Spencer reassures you, resting his hand gently on your knee. “We couldn’t have done it without you,” he adds.

Your face warms at his compliment, “I wish I could have helped before she was killed.” You were grateful that Spencer hadn’t passed on any personal information about the woman, it was easier for you if you kept things in separate storage files in your mind.

Spencer hums, reaching out and sweeping a strand of hair behind your ear, “There’s always going to be another one. I’m sorry about the photos, I should’ve made sure Garcia only sent the necessary ones.”

Nodding absentmindedly, you look at him thoughtfully, “This will pass, but for tonight I just feel bad for the victim.”

“I can have Penelope share some of her favorite baby animal videos, if you’d like,” he offers softly, resting his head on your shoulder.

In return, you give him a small smile, “Well, I suppose it really can’t hurt.”

[lemotmo]

I’m honestly really worried right now with how nasty this has all gotten so fast.

I feel so bad for Oliver. His entire storyline he’s waited years to tell has now completely been hijacked from start to finish thanks to Lou and his cult.

The disgusting things being said about Oliver. About Ryan. The show itself. All with Lou liking and engaging with them playing up the poor me card with them.

Like they are literally demanding Oliver be written off the show as punishment and any future Buck scenes they already filmed scrubbed out. I saw a few say deport Ryan back to Mexico and then write Eddie off by sending him to Texas permanently and send Buck with him. Some saying Lou should have been kept on and Oliver let go.

Like it’s all insane. And none of them deserve it because they didn’t do anything wrong. No one misled or promised or lied. They have been open and transparent about BT from the start. Tim literally said at the very beginning this was an entry level relationship. No wedding bells.

I’m also getting worried the network is going to pull the plug on buddie because even if it’s not us doing it, they might not wanna deal with the insane blowback these people are causing and will cause when buddie happens.

Don't worry Nonny. Like I said before, Oliver will be fine. Ryan will be fine.

Oliver has disabled comments on his post on Instagram because he knew exactly what was coming. They are both probably avoiding social media right now, but I'm also certain they'll be back as soon as the worst is over.

The show never made any promises about BT. On the contrary, they made it very clear, since day one, that Tommy was there to be a plot device. Eddie was all over the BT narrative in both seasons. In season 8 BT were still in the same place they ended in season 7. There was no growth whatsoever. Also, there was no buildup at all for them. Tommy just existed next to Buck in episode 5, but there wasn't one single sign of physical affection. Even in episode 6 there was only a cheek kiss. It reminded me of Eddie kissing Ana when he returned home after the shooting. A single cheek kiss. We all know how that relationship ended.

I wouldn't worry too much about the network. It seems bad right now, because they are all being loud and obnoxious, but the BT fandom is actually quite small compared to the Buddie fandom and the general 911 fandom. Their voices will be drowned out by all the positivity in the end. These BT stans will stop watching the show, but it won't even make a dent in the ratings. There's only a few hundred of them.

I checked Instagram and I've already seen so many positive comments, saying it was one of the best episodes of season 8, praising all the actors and crew for their hard work.

So don't worry. ABC knows exactly what Buddie could mean for the show. It would most definitely increase the popularity. Bi Buck already brought in a lot of people (some of them who have already left us again since Thursday evening), but a lot of them are here for the bi representation and they are here to stay.

So imagine how crazy things would get if Eddie would turn out to be not so straight after all and very much in love with his best friend? And Buck finally figuring out who he really wants?

The episodes leading up to them finally getting together would draw in so many new people who heard that those two 'gay firefighters from 911' are finally getting together after 7 loooong seasons.

ABC doesn't care about a few hundred people throwing a tantrum under a social media post. They do care for ratings and making a profit. That's it.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Tell you one thing though: After what he has done? Lou will never ever work on anything for ABC again, which means that we won't ever see him back on 911 and that's a beautiful thing. 😏😆

[emacrow]

Kronos, Agent A, and bites marks

Kronos looked a bit skittish and dejected after the sixth Doctor nearly got iced by her baby after he made an unfortunate choice of mumbling words which lead to Batman calling in a favor from the Wayne's to bring in a good doctor that actually can get near both the ancient beings long enough to give a diagnosis.

Incoming Agent A, who was calmly explained the situation as he walked slowly into the containment. Kronos look at him for a moment before a bit of realization flickered in his eyes, as she murmur something.

Batman and the other heroes watches behind the hidden camera screen office, watching as Alfred check Kronos's temperature, painless blood drawn, checking her heart and breathing and gave a clear full body examination to a couple heroes were shocked to see a long horrifyingly yet old looking scar on her stomach area that look like someone dragged something sharp and was stretched a bit wide.

That gave one point to Diana theory of Kronos story being warped dramatically, but the fact of that Zeus did cut opened Kronos's stomach to pull out his siblings pin true.

A couple of more minutes past with alfred carefully examination the baby boy who was a bit squirmish while alfred did a couple of comments obviously praising Kronos whom face flushed a rather colorful red blush turning her head a bit. Alfred did asked and provides Kronos and Her baby much better comfortable Maternal and baby clothes then what they were currently wearing.

By the time alfred came out of the containment cell, alfred's soft gentleman look shifted a bit, before speaking after handing the vials of swirling golden glowing blood.

"Both madam and the child are well, a bit underweight, Ms. Kronos will need headache relief medicine, both her and the child is in need of a very light seasoned meal and drinks to not overwhelmed their senses in which I'll be providing." Alfred told then after handing the written documents forms of the examination. Batman could only grunt a bit, considering he trying not to look back at Alfred's glance considering his armored wrist had a tiny bite marks that actually dented the armor with indents.

"Ms. Kronos did asked what and where is this place as I asked what was the last thing she recalled was falling from Olympic while trying to hide her child but as she spoke, it seem to cause her abdominal pain that seem to be PTSD related." Alfred said to which batman nod knowing that Alfred would never lied to him.

Part 3 << >> Part 5

[saistappen]

Special guest | MV1

In which Max pays a visit to a primary school class to answer a few questions before the Dutch gp

or

In which Max only has eyes for the young class teacher

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

Today is a very special day. Your six-year-old pupils were particularly looking forward to this day.

The Zandvoort Grand Prix, which was not too far from the school, would take place at the weekend.

In a few minutes, a very special guest would be coming to your class - the lion class.

Over the last few days, you and your class have organised and prepared a lot to make your guest's time in class as pleasant as possible.

A satisfied smile sits firmly on your face as you walk through the rows of tables and put up the children's name tags you have made so that your guest can call them by name.

You then unfold the blackboard to reveal the colourfully painted greeting.

Written in orange chalk in the centre is the words Welcome Max Verstappen.

Your pupils have painted a few trophies around it, as well as chequered flags and racing cars.

A glance at the clock hanging above the classroom door tells you that it is about time for the first pupils to arrive.

Shortly afterwards, the first pupils enter your classroom with big smiles on their faces. Some of the children are already wearing fan merchandise.

After you have greeted each child with a quick hug, the rows of tables slowly start to fill up and an excited murmur goes round the room.

"Good morning my lions", you greet your class with a smile on your lips and a little chant of welcome comes back.

"As you know, we have a visitor coming in a few minutes. But before we get there, I'd like to go through a few things with you about how we're going to behave during this," you begin as you sit down on the edge of your desk and look around the room.

Yesterday you went through the rules for today with your protégés. It is important to you that everything runs smoothly and well today.

It's not a given that someone famous would take the time to answer questions in a class full of six-year-olds.

" Who can tell me the most important things to consider for today? "

Within a few seconds, countless hands shoot into the air.

Your gaze wanders briefly through the rows before you take a boy from your class, who lists all the rules to be observed for the next two lessons.

With a satisfied smile on your lips, you thank the boy and add a sentence or two, telling your charges that it's important that they don't talk out of turn and to please come forward if they want to ask Mr Verstappen a question.

You know that the class is pretty excited and probably not everything will go one hundred per cent, but despite all that, you're really confident that it will go well.

Some time passes, during which your class spends painting Max Boliden in bright colours, until there is a knock at the door of your classroom.

Countless heads go up and look over to the door with wide eyes, while one or two squeak out.

You can clearly see the nervousness slowly rising in each of them, even in you.

You wipe your slightly sweaty hands on your black jeans before a smile creeps back onto your lips and a "Come in" leaves your lips.

Shortly afterwards, the door opens and a smiling Max Verstappen steps into your classroom.

As he does every time there's a race weekend, he's wearing one of his team shirts and dark trousers.

"Good morning! "He beams as he enters the classroom and lets his gaze wander round the room.

"Good morning Mr Verstappen! "The class literally shouts in chorus, causing a proud smile to spread across your lips.

Point one has already been successful.

"Welcome to the lion class. I am Mrs y/l/n. I'm really pleased to welcome you here today," you greet the Dutchman and hold out your hand to him, which he shakes with a smile.

" I'm delighted to be here today. "

You notice how his eyes linger on you a little longer, so you clear your throat quietly and look back at your protégés, who are scrutinising Max curiously and whispering quietly.

"Look what we've painted for you! " shouts Leona, one of your students, pointing to the blackboard and presenting the colourful picture to Max.

"You drew this especially for me? That's really great! " Max steps a little closer to the board to take a closer look at the artwork.

"And we drew cars too! " shouts the next child and gets Max's attention.

"Did you design new liveries for special Grand Prix races? " Max begins to walk through the rows to take a closer look at the coloured-in cars.

He repeatedly takes time for each of the children to exchange a few sentences with them about their coloured pictures.

Smiling, you watch him and sit back on the edge of your desk.

A glance at the map next to you shows that Max will start by introducing himself and talking about his motorsport career. Afterwards, the children will ask a few questions and get autographs. Finally, there will be a little bobby car race in the schoolyard, where each child will compete against Max himself.

"You're all really great artists. I'll show my team your paintwork and I'm sure something can be done! " Max grins as he walks back to the blackboard with the pile of leaves.

Enthusiastic murmurs go through the class as Max begins to prepare for his little talk.

And shortly afterwards, he begins to tell your class, who are literally glued to his lips, about his motorsport career.

During Max's lecture, you sat in the back row to give Max enough space at the front of the blackboard.

His lecture was quite interesting, so now you know a lot more about the Dutchman.

The children had been so quiet throughout the lecture that you are really proud and shower the children with a little praise.

"And now we come to your questions. Now you can ask me anything you've always wanted to know. But think about your question carefully, because everyone is only allowed to ask me one. "

Max holds up his index finger to make it clear to the children that they are really only allowed to ask one question.

"Just one? How am I supposed to decide which question to ask? " Liana's sad voice sounded from the front, causing Max to start smiling.

" You'll manage that, Liana. Take some time to think of a good question," you reassure the little blonde-haired girl, whereupon Max gives you a grateful look.

" Who wants to start asking me a question? " As Max's gaze begins to wander around the class, countless little fingers are raised in the air.

One or two of them even start to kneel on the chair so that they can stick their finger higher in the air and be seen better by Max.

" Finn ", Max takes the first boy.

" Would you like to drive for Red Bull forever or for Mercedes or Ferrari? "

The Red Bull driver leans against your desk and rests his hands slightly to the right and left of him as he begins to think for a moment.

Your protégés look eagerly at their star and wait for an answer.

"I actually feel incredibly comfortable in my team and so far there's no reason for me to leave. I get on well with everyone in the team and we have a good working relationship so that everything runs as smoothly as it should. I'll never rule out a change, because you never know what's to come, but so far I can reassure you and tell you that I'm not considering a change. "

A sigh of relief goes through the class, which makes you grin.

In fact, most of your class are Max and Red Bull fans.

" Who is your favourite team colleague? " Joleen asks Max after he has taken her on.

"So far I've got on really well with all my team mates and we've all got on really well, but if I had to choose a team mate who I've got on best with, I'd say Daniel. The two of us not only get on particularly well in Formula 1, but also in our private lives. "

In fact, you've already guessed this answer, as you could always clearly see how well Max and Daniel got on and harmonised with each other.

You still mourn the time when Max and Daniel were team-mates. That time really was by far one of the funniest content times at Red Bull Racing.

A few more interesting questions were asked, which Max answered in detail, such as his favourite colour, which is blue, his favourite food, which was tomato soup and the question about his pets, Jimmy and Sassy two Bengals cats.

"Is there anyone else who hasn't asked me a question yet? " Max's gaze travelled around the class.

Even after answering countless questions, he still seemed pretty relaxed and happy.

"Mrs y/l/n hasn't asked a question yet," Johann takes the floor as all the children turn to look at you.

Max also leans a little more on the desk now as he leans forward to see you in the back row.

" Do you have a question for me? " he grins.

So you start going through all the possible questions that are floating around in your head.

There are a lot of things that would interest you, but they don't belong here right now, so you decide on the simplest question that any teacher would have asked.

" What was your favourite subject at school? "

" Oh, that's really easy! " Max grins and almost claps his hands. " Your teacher will probably rip my head off for this, but I never liked going to school. The only subject I liked was geography. What's your favourite subject? "

Countless voices start shouting their favourite subjects in confusion, which Max takes in his stride with a smile and somehow tries to catch every subject.

To restore some calm, you walk back to the front and start clapping a rhythm, which the children immediately follow and the class becomes quiet again.

A quiet " Wow " leaves Max's lips, who looks at you with fascination and makes the blush rise slightly in your cheeks.

"That's the best way to keep things quiet," you almost babble as you start to clear your desk to give Max a little more space for the upcoming autographs.

You had already cleared out your desk, so there were hardly any things on it. However, you now have to keep your hands busy to avoid blushing even more or doing something stupid.

" Please line up to get an autograph. If you have an autograph, please go and put on your jacket so that we can go out into the school playground straight away. Please keep your voices down," you remind the children, who shortly afterwards line up in front of your desk waiting to sign an autograph.

You take the seat next to the door to keep an eye on the children who are putting on their jackets.

The autograph session goes faster than expected, so that within twenty minutes all the children are standing in the corridor whispering in their jackets and then follow Max and you out into the schoolyard in a duck march.

Yesterday afternoon you had already set up a small parkour, which you will have to drive through today with the two Bobby Cars.

The red and blue Bobby Car are already ready and waiting to be used.

You had even made a small podium out of cardboard boxes and bought small mini trophies to give your offspring the full programme of a racing experience.

While the children would race against Max, you would time them and the three fastest times would end up on the podium.

Max grabs the blue Bobby Car, which just fits half his knee, while Aaron can sit perfectly on the red Bobby Car.

While the two race against each other, the children cheer on Max and Aaron in different groups.

The latter narrowly wins, as Max has a few problems with the only Bobby Car.

Despite all this, the Dutchman doesn't lose the fun of the game, so he competes against every single child with joy and fun, even if it's not enough for one of the three podium places in the end.

Standing proudly on the podium with their trophies, the three winners literally raise their plastic trophies in the air until a couple of water pistols are used to replace the champagne shower and all the children run across the schoolyard screaming and chasing each other.

Smiling, you look after your class as Max stands next to you.

"That was a really nice day. Thank you for preparing so many nice things. I really don't know the last time I really enjoyed a day like this," said Max, smiling and thanking you.

"I also have to thank you. You really put a lot of effort into my class. You were really looking forward to the day, which was a real success. "

You can't stop a smile from forming on your lips as Max gives you a smile and then pulls something out of his trouser pocket.

" I forgot to give you your autograph. "

The Dutchman smiles and hands you the autograph card before also grabbing a water pistol and running over to your class.

Confused, you lower your eyes to the autograph card, which shows a grinning Max in his dark racing suit.

You really have a great class.

Your lions are really lucky to have such a great teacher like you.

You've learnt a lot about me today and I hope I get the opportunity to get to know you a little better.

Why don't you write to me

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