#he's just nothing. soul or no soul there is no guy in there.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One

A large part of the Steve Harrington lore was that he left his throne, his popularity, childhood best friends behind--for Nancy Wheeler. 

This was a lie. 

It wasn’t even one he encouraged--and Steve had done some damage control in the aftermath of that whole thing with the tunnels. 

He volunteered, dropped hints to the right crowd. 

It took time, but eventually, his insistence that he’d changed, left his old crew behind to become a better version of himself, began to stick.

Or at least it did with the people who mattered.  

It took Starcourt for him to realize that wasn’t really the truth either. 

Steve did want to be a better person. He was working actively on being a better person. 

But…

(But he still heard screams from a bus in the junkyard when he slept. Felt fear lick down his spine as he charged in, knowing he was the only thing standing between three dumb kids and a painful, shitty death. 

But he still heard Dustin, full of conviction, tell his friends that Steve was the only person he could find. 

But now he had a “bad” shoulder, a “twinge” in his ribs, and a head that was plagued by migraines, all of which made him look in the mirror and ask himself “What if I hadn’t gone with them?) 

…you couldn’t be there for someone, couldn’t protect someone, if you were too busy playing high school bullies with your friends. 

Robin would likely argue these were simply the reasons he wanted to be a better person, but Robin now ranked as one of Steve’s top 10 personal regrets--even if he was pretty sure they’d become best friends.

Because Steve was the oldest. He’d graduated high school for fucks sake, he should have shut Dustin down the second he realized what was happening was legitimate. 

He absolutely should not have let Robin get involved and Erica--

He can’t even really think about Erica, no matter how much Erica herself argues elsewise. 

At the very least, Steve can admit to himself he protected them in the end. 

Got beat to shit and had to fake his death alongside Hopper to do it, but they all got out. 

Alive.

Unscathed.

Hopefully to put this whole fucking thing past them once Owens finished cleaning house in the government. 

Unfortunately life--and Eddie fucking Munson--was not ready to put anything to rest. 

Munson in fact, seemed hellbent on disturbing what he could--and Steve, wholly haunted by the fact the kids always came to him, couldn’t let him do it alone.

At least, he thought with grim distaste, as he followed Munson’s weaving path to the ruins of Starcout,  he was getting his car out of it. 

xXx

Uncanny valley doesn’t do Steve’s feelings justice. 

Starcourt was laid out in a giant L, and coming at it from the outer edges like he and Munson did means everything looks disturbingly normal. 

Off putting, if only because it’s 10 in the morning and not a soul is in the mall, but otherwise? 

Like nothing ever went wrong.

As they move closer to the center, things begin to unravel. 

It’s not noticeable at first. Not unless you’re looking. The litter on the floor, the little piles of weird looking debris. 

The stains.

Nothing that outwardly screams “something horrible happened here” but it's coming--and though Munson is creeping along just as quietly as Steve is, he knows the guy isn’t on edge in the same way. 

Why would he be? Nothing Steve said had managed to deter him, and given Steve can’t exactly explain what happened or why he’s playing possum, Munson was plenty confident about going forward with his little B&E. 

At least not until they finally turn the corner, and the destruction hits them full force. 

Glass and chunks of plaster cover the ground like confetti. Lights hang sideways or lay smashed on the floor, as do pieces of doors (and railings and half of the entire upper floor.) 

The place looks like something out of a disaster film--which Steve supposes, is exactly what it is. 

If the disaster was supernatural in nature, and also caused by a giant monster made out of the melted flesh. 

(God, his life was weird.)

“What the hell happened here?” Eddie said, eyes wide as he took in the damage. 

Steve tried to imagine what it must look like for him. Looked at the scene and tried to pretend he was someone who wasn’t in the know, who thought the mall had been destroyed by a fire and subsequent structural collapse.

Could almost convince himself one could buy it--if it weren’t for the smears of blood that still stained the floor. 

He stared at said smears, trying to match up which puddle was the one Billy died in, in comparison to all the other stains that the feds hadn’t bothered to remove. 

Recalled the way Max screamed, fighting her way towards her step-brother when he finally fell.

The yell Billy himself had let out, when he’d managed to shake off the Mindflayer, long enough to give El the time she needed. 

Steve hadn’t really thought about it until now. 

Billy’s death.

 Hadn’t really had time too, given Owens had pulled him and a handful of others out of the ambulance and forced them into hiding.

(From the fucking Russians still hanging around, apparently, though that had been Owens flimsy excuse. Murray and Hopper and long guessed it was something far closer to home. 

“You ever think about how weird that was? That Russians made it to Hawkins and no one ever noticed?” Hopper had asked, a beer in the same hand that had an IV sticking out of the back of it. “Given the lab was right across town you think they’d be watching for that kinda thing.” 

“Please Jim, I am begging you, for once, to use your head. They didn’t get here without assistance and they certainly didn’t do it without help from our own government.” Murray had scoffed in return. 

He held two lit cigarettes in his hand, and was reaching for a third.

“Why the hell would the US military let in Russians?"

“An excellent question, and I’ll return it with one of my own. If we assume we are being lied too, and all the Russians are actually gone, why would Owens still need to hide us?"

“...Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed.”)

Now, Steve found he had all the time in the world to contemplate Billy Hargrove and his mostly unnoticed possession. His supposed sacrifice. 

 Had it redeemed him, the way movies and TV shows always said that kind of death, did? 

Steve imagined the sneered grin on Billy’s face that night at the Byers. Felt phantom knuckles brush across his face, the fury that had ignited within him when Billy hadn’t gone for him, but for Lucas.

Compared it to his own fight with Jonathan in ‘82. 

The words he’d allowed Tommy to spray upon the theater sign regarding his own girlfriend. The camera he’d destroyed. 

The demogorgon in the Byers house, lights flashing as it tore through the wall. 

If things had been different, if Steve hadn’t survived back then--would people wonder the same things about him? Would they ask themselves if his sacrifice was worth it--if it proved he was a good person, under it all? 

“Harrington?” 

Steve jumped, startling when Munson nudged him. 

“You good, man?” He asked, and Steve almost laughed at him because no, he definitely was not good. 

He can’t say that though, and so he does what he always does. Shoves the thoughts down, puts the feelings back inside a box in his mind. 

Lies. 

“Yeah--fine.” He said, brushing off his staring. “Come on, Scoops is that way.” 

He gestures, ignoring the concerned look that’s overtaken Munson’s face. 

Panicking he knows, will not get his keys back, and neither will it help him learn what idiot is poking around the Upside Down this time. 

Because for all of Murray's conspiracies, he doesn’t actually think the feds are Munson’s benefactor. Owens had been inclined to agree, when Steve first reported this entire situation back. 

It’s definitely not his parents, who are conveniently overseas in London. 

That leaves very little options, including a disturbing possibility of a new player to the game, and given all the green goo Steve had seen, the way they all know it does--something, to help power the gate... 

It’d be nice to get ahead of things for once, instead of scrambling to catch up. 

(Screw Hopper and Owens and everyone who told Steve to stay out of it.

He knew damn well Munson wouldn’t listen to his warnings. 

Wouldn’t back off and definitely wouldn’t leave it alone.

Hopper’s half-delirious (and morphine fueled) rants about this finally being a wakeup call for Munson if he didn’t listen wasn’t going to make up for the blood on Steve's hands if the guy went in there without him and died. ) 

Walking through Scoop's is almost more unnerving than walking through the mall itself. Likely because Steve spent time here, and seeing it in it's destroyed state--lights off, ice cream melted and fouling the air with the a rancid stench do him no favors.

The You Suck board is laying haphazardly on the floor.

Steve forces himself to walk by it, and breathes only through his mouth.

“Your locker, my liege!” Munson crows as they enter the back part of Scoop’s, throwing out an arm at it like he’s presenting a game show prize. “Shall we see if the treasure we seek is behind door number one?” 

Steve rolls his eyes, but remains quiet as he steps up and enters his combination. 

It swings open as easily as it ever had, and there, hanging from the crooked hook, is the car keys Steve is so desperately after. 

Munson throws his hands in the air, like Steve’s just shot the winning basket of a game. 

“Score!” He yells, and Steve grins reflexively even as he shushes him. 

“Now," Munson says dramatically, "the hunt begins for our second prize.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“I told you I don’t have a class ring.” 

“And yet they have me searching for one anyway.” Like a hound zeroing in on a trail, he immediately orients to the back of Scoop’s, waltzing through to the backrooms like this was everyday for him.

Given his confusing and handwaved excuse of how he got involved in this, Steve suppose it could be. 

(He had decided, sometime between the first and fifth time he’d tried to get Eddie to explain how, exactly he’d been roped into this little mission, that the man could never meet Dustin.

Henderson was already too good at steamrolling over Steve, explaining nothing other than the facts that would force them all to do what the little shit wanted, all the while leading them further into trouble.

He didn’t need to befriend someone like Munson, whose mastery of the same bullshit had him doing, well.

This.) 

To the end of the hall Eddie skipped, and Steve kept his eyes on his jacket. Some sort of demon thing was posed on the back, a shirt that had been ripped up and resewn to be a backpatch. 

It was better than looking at anything else back here.

It took them no time at all to reach their destination. 

The door down had a shiny new lock on it. A big thing, with chains so thick Steve briefly wondered if they were worried about containment. 

Had they pulled something through the gate, before it had exploded?

The base was large--larger than Steve had seen, and he'd passed room after room when running around down there.

No one had the time to explore, and one would assume any and all monsters had been removed from the premise but there was always that little tickling feeling.

The one that chanted 'What if...'

Unfortunately, the lock did nothing to detour this little jaunt. 

Munson dropped to his knees in front of a door, hair pin in hand. He fiddled with the lock for a moment and Steve took it to visualize how different things might have been if the older teen had been there with them. 

How much easier some of it would have been. 

(Not that Steve wanted to involve anyone else in this mess.

He'd carry the guilt of dragging Erica and Robin both into it for the rest of his life, not matter what either had to say about the matter. Dustin he knew he couldn't stop, but then, Steve doubted they'd have even made it that far without the girls.)

A click sounded, and Eddie looked up, eyes bright with a wild grin on his face. 

“Open sesame.” He purred as he stood, the door opening under his hands. He pushed on it, revealing the dark gaping maw of a stairwell.

Dread hit Steve like a wave.

“We shouldn’t go down there.” He said.

They had already had this conversation, but Steve felt the overwhelming urge to revisit it on grounds that he still isn’t sure how exactly, Munson got him to agree to come in the first place, and also, now that he was thinking of it, because the guy reminded him of Dustin.

“We shouldn’t be here at all.” Munson countered, springing back to his feet. “But some of us need this little thing called money.”

He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, as if Steve needed the extra visual.

“If you’re giving me the car--and the car keys--what's the point of going after the ring?” Steve tried, staring down the stairwell before him. “Aren’t they gonna like, not pay you for not finding anything?”

Munson made a dismissive noise, waving his hands in the air like he was dispersing smoke. 

“Eddie.” Steve said, and knew by the way Munson looked at him that the use of his first name hit as intended. “I mean it, man.” 

There was no point in going through with the rest of it. No point at all.

“And I told you I was given a side mission to my main mission, and a little industry secret for ya here Harrington,"

Steve watched as cheshire-cat like grin lit up Munson’s face, in a way eerie similar to Dustin’s gummy smile. "the side missions always pay more.” 

“What's under there isn’t--this isn’t--it’s not safe.” Steve fired back, hating how he fumbled the words, like a ball slipping through his hands. 

Munson scoffed.

“Life ain’t safe.”  

“This is different.” He tried to argue and hated how stubborn Munson was being about this.

It almost made him feel bad about all the time’s Robin had protested. 

(Idly Steve wondered if this was how she felt. Like she was getting dragged along--like she had to go. 

Did her insides feel scooped out? Stomach hollow and head hurting?

Or had the excitement blinded her too much to feel the way the walls seemed to press in?)

Steve’s gut clenched with worry, and he shook his head to clear the anxiety.

Met Munson's gaze and desperately thought of something to say to convince him to walk away.

Some of that must have bled onto his face, because Munson was giving him an odd, searching look.

“I’ll make you a deal, Steve-O." He said. "You give me two good reasons why we shouldn’t go down there, and if they’re really convincing, I might agree to skip it.” 

“I signed NDAs.” Steve sighed, because this was an argument they’d also already had. 

Twice in fact--once, when Eddie first found him, alive and very much not dead as reported, and the second time when he approached Steve with his “retrieval project.” 

(Both times at the goddamn gas station, which Steve would now be avoiding for life.) 

On eyebrow raised. “Over a mallfire?” 

“I think,” Steve said dryly, gesturing around to the destruction that surrounded them, “that you’ve figured out it wasn’t a mallfire.” 

Technically he wasn't even supposed to say that, but then, Steve had long stopped caring if he actually broke the stupid thing.

The real issue was that the story sounded like something out of a bad horror film--fake and ridiculous. If he tried to explain it, Munson would assume Steve had finally cracked.

Or, more likely, decide he was being made fun of, and react accordingly.

(They couldn't afford to fight here, and neither did Steve want Munson storming off.)

“Well duh. But then, you’re the one who won’t say what really happened here.” Munson waggled his eyebrows in a way that was so cartoony Steve was mildly impressed a person could pull it off. 

He sighed a second time. 

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“You keep saying that and you keep not trying me.” Eddie leaned against the door frame. “Come on Harrington. Two reasons.”

Steve tried.

Ran through what might convince Munson to leave it all alone. 

Figured the guy was kind of like Dustin, in that he couldn’t be too vague (because it would just intrigue him) and he couldn’t be too honest (because any idiot could see Munson would be all over some kind of government conspiracy.) 

“The fact the building might pancake on us at any moment isn't enough?" He asked, unsure if sounding desperate was the right move here (an equally unsure if he could hide it if it was.)

He’d hadn’t tried this route before--hadn’t thought Munson would go for it. 

Not when he'd waived off every other attempt Steve could think of, to stop this.

“Nah, I trust my source, this place will hold.” Munson leaned forward, deep into Steve’s space and though Steve waivered back, he let the older teen get close. “You’ve been off ever since we came in here, Harrington. I want to know why.” 

“I was in the fire. Munson. I did almost die."

He still had a bruise left to prove it.

"That ain't it and you know it."

"I don't know what else to tell you then." Steve said, angry. why was the guy making this so hard? Why couldn't he just fucking listen!?

“Not even two reasons?”

“There’s not--” Steve closed his eyes, frustrated. “I’ve given you far more than two reasons!” 

“Not any good ones.” 

“I don’t know what you want from me. "Steve admitted finally. "because I told you, you wouldn’t believe the rest of it--” 

Munson didn't let his rant pick up steam. instead he pulled himself back, interrupting Steve.

“Then down the rabbit hole we go, Alice!”

Quick as a flash he was  down the stairs and Steve bit back a curse as he rushed to follow.

“Munson--come on, wait!” He yelled back.

Eddie, of course, did no such thing. 

It took everything he had in him to rush after, but Steve did it anyway.

What else was he good for?

[spxllcxstxr]

Jayce and Viktor Dating Someone with ADHD • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: Hiiii how are you? I love your stories so I was wondering if you could write more jayvik x reader but who has adhd? TYSMM -- anon and Your Jayvik + reader headcanons have me are giddy and are healing my soul. Is it possible to ask for a some headcanons with a reader who has ADHD and also forgets to eat because of it?? I hope your day is kind to you! -- anon

Warnings: gn!reader, reader has ADHD, mentions of food and eating/not eating, these are lowkey kinda short im so sorry lol

A.N: Disclaimer: I don't have ADHD but I have many friends that do and while ADHD presents itself differently for people, I tried to keep this a bit generalized, I hope that's ok!! If anything needs changing or needs to be deleted for being inaccurate or anything, just let me know! Hope you guys enjoy!!

•

Jayce and Viktor are both very understanding people, so when you told them you had ADHD they didn’t have a problem with it. They are, however, problem solvers (they are inventors with the dream of making Piltover and Zaun better for the people), meaning they are very curious about your habits and how they can help. They don’t want to “cure” you, because there’s nothing to cure, but they want to understand how to reassure you and how to make living with ADHD easier on a day-to-day basis

If you’re someone who fidgets with things a lot, Jayce will happily pick up the task of making something that satisfies your need to occupy your hands and your thoughts. He loves being in the forge and he’ll gladly let you sit in there with him and listen to you describe what you would want. He’ll sit next to you, sketching out the design while you ramble about what textures are better than others or how weighty it should feel in your hand. Jayce honestly loves this little side project; not only does it let him work on something other than his research, but it also puts a smile on your face

If you like rambling for hours about your latest hyperfixation, Viktor is the best for that. He has a naturally curious mind and would love to learn something new. He especially likes it when your head is resting on his chest in the middle of the night. Viktor likes watching you move your hands as you talk excitably about the plant life in Ionia or the history of the Yordles. He doesn’t just listen—he’ll ask you questions or give you reading material he thinks you may like as well

Going to Council parties or even just walking through Piltover can really overwhelm you sometimes, either with all the noise or the texture of your clothing feeling off, so your partners are very attentive to your wellbeing. The three of you set up a codeword for anyone to use when someone needs or wants to leave. They try to make it something funny every time to hopefully ease the panic a little bit. Usually Jayce and Viktor are glued to either side of you hip, but in the off chance they have to roam around the room, the two of them will try to keep an eye on you. They will always reassure you that it's ok that they are leaving these sorts of events early (Viktor barely wants to go in the first place), and when you get home the three of you will do something to calm everyone down and get into comfortable clothes

Having ADHD, you tend to get distracted/forget to do certain things. This usually includes eating. Your partners never want to seem overbearing or like they're smothering you, so they will try to subtly remind you to eat/do certain things. Jayce likes writing you little notes and putting them in the apartment. Usually they have little hearts in the corners with some encouraging remark after "remember to eat!" Viktor will usually try to eat with you, so you won't feel alone while eating. He'll be making something and he'll set the table for either two or three and that just reminds you to actually sit down and eat what Viktor makes

Your partners are very patient and are always open to new ideas. if you want them to do something different or if something works really well, they would love to hear it. They absolutely will not be mad at all, they love you so much and all they want to do is help make things easier for you

•

[acciotaitlynn]

˖⁺‧₊˚✦ During Love and Deepspace's "Beyond the Code" event, beloved characters gain newfound consciousness, leading Zayne to face a startling truth. The people he's saved, the lives he's safeguarded, even those he couldn't—all of it, a lie. In a world where the only familiar element is your presence, Zayne must decide if your bond is enough to cling to, or if he requires something more to stay in this world...

₊ ⊹ Self-aware: Zayne

Part 1: Xavier

⟡ sexual content, 18+, fem reader, depictions of blood/gore, light stalker themes (he’s just scared to say hi 😩) Zaynie's falling for lil ole nurse u ✿ 😭 he's such a softy, probably ooc (what does that even mean tho rlly??) blowies, fingering, it's implied this is Zayne's first time (he was literally just birthed u guys, cut him some slack) love/my love used, a lil marking/claiming on ur part, u drive this poor man crazy

🌟 This is the 2nd fic in my self-aware series. Xavier's delves deeper into the event's plot ♡ This story is a bit deeper than Xav's. I feel like it would be challenging for a sentient Zayne to come to terms with the fact he's a fictional character. He's done so much good and cares for ppl so deeply that it would likely feel like a betrayal. This narrative focuses on his struggle with that concept. and, of course, if he were to come to life, banging him would be inevitable ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜

⟡ 5.5k

The day Zayne's life ends begins like any other, with the sun rising as he sets out for his morning jog, letting the brisk breeze ease the ache from a haunting nightmare. Faint cries of those teetering on the edge of death linger in his ears, the valley behind his eyes painted with a chilling scene—bodies scattered across the icy landscape like a frozen, sprawling tomb. Though he can’t recall witnessing their final moments, a persistent belief gnaws at Zayne, hinting that these souls met their demise by his hand. This dream has loomed for years, an unwavering presence, a melancholy shadow just beyond his understanding. In his ceaseless battle against the ominous figure presiding over the destruction, Zayne readied himself in medical gloves, resolved to save lives to offset the dread of those he fears he may have failed.

As his hands plunge deep into a patient’s cavity during a routine morning procedure, a glowing fissure materializes, ripping through the pristine walls of the operating room. The man’s heartbeat, a familiar rhythm Zayne would normally never overlook, fades into the background, receding like a distant memory. Despite every aspect of this moment vying for his attention, the opening’s energy seeps into his mind, into his bones, until it’s all he can see. For the first time in years, Zayne’s grip falters, his fingers trembling, losing hold of the scalpel as his focus shifts toward the doorway. Tentatively stepping forward, one shaky movement turns into another, the ground beneath his feet pulsating gently as if guiding him toward something unseen.

In an instant, the world engulfs him, thrusting him into the chaos of a city teeming with vitality. Light floods his newly opened eyes, not dull or flat like the glow of the game, but vividly spilling from every surface. Sounds echo in harmony, not a mere background score, but an uproarous symphony of noise, each sound vying for attention. Cars blare their horns, distant sirens cry out, voices cascade in a continuous flow. The phantom weight of the scalpel lingers in Zayne’s hands, the warm slickness of a pulsing heart still palpable under his touch. Glancing down, he finds them trembling, gloves still stained with what appears to be blood… Yet, his mind whispers that it isn’t real. That nothing he’s ever known has been real…

Struggling with legs that feel heavier than remembered, each step faltering on the uneven pavement, Zayne discards his gloves, seeking solace against a nearby stone wall. His hand lingers on the course, gritty surface beneath his fingertips—untamed in its authenticity, unlike anything from the game… He marvels at the subtle flex of his fingers, the shadowed creases in his palms. This is real… Undeniably real… This realization could inspire elation, yet a sense of unease creeps up Zayne’s spine. Something isn’t right. He doesn’t belong here. In the distance, a glowing red sign demands his attention, the word EMERGENCY blaring like a beacon of hope. 

Zayne’s world has never stirred his heart, but now it pounds like a warm drum, the sensation foreign and unsettling. And then it happens: a whisper, faint but insistent, threading through the city’s commotion. Not quite a voice, but a feeling—a warmth, a familiarity enveloping Zayne like a forgotten tune, guiding him closer to the revolving glass doors. Initially assailed by the sharp, acrid scent of disinfectant laced with a hint of metal—Bood? Sweat?— Zayne’s senses are overwhelmed. His reality lacks such vivid scents… So pungent and palpable. 

He observes doctors and nurses, their faces etched with concentration and fatigue, a stark contrast to the perfect, pixelated avatars he’s accustomed to. Dressed in surgical scrubs, Zayne moves silently through the bustling corridors, blending seamlessly into the chaotic environment. Peeking through a narrow window of an operating room door, he witnesses a surgery in progress, a sight both mesmerizing and gruesome. A patient lies exposed on the table, their chest rising and falling amidst the steady hum of machinery. The surgeon’s skilled hand delves deep into the living, breathing body. Zayne has enacted this scenario countless, saving innumerable lives—or so he thought… Watching it unfold in this stark reality reveals the falsity of it all. The lives he thought he had saved, the tears of gratitude shed by patients, the tense moments when a scalpel nearly grazed a vital artery, or the elation of a seemingly irreparable heart—all scripted, artificial, devoid of genuine outcomes or consequence. No one truly lived because of him… but… no one perished due to his actions, either… Slumping against the wall, Zayne’s legs buckle beneath him, the world around him blending into a muted buzz. What purpose does his skill and knowledge serve if none of it carries weight? Once deemed instruments of life and death, his hands now seem useless and empty.

With every step into the building, Zayne’s unease heightens, the pull in his chest growing stronger as he navigates each hallway. The ache he anticipated would ease upon his arrival at the hospital becomes a keener, more undiluted tug stirring within him. It doesn’t draw him toward the building itself, but deeper within—toward someone. Unseen threads propel him through the corridors with an urgency bordering on discomfort. His breath hitches as he pauses outside a room, his heart beating so fiercely that he fears it might split open.

Standing just a few feet away, you delicately adjust a patient’s blanket with a natural warmth and care. Your soft, melodic voice hits Zayne like a thunderclap. Gripping the doorframe, the world threatens to crumble around him as you offer a gentle smile to the patient in the bed. He has only caught glimpses of you before—the touch of your fingers on buttons, the echo of your laughter through faint static over the mic, the reflection of your face on a dim screen… To Zayne, your presence has been both tangible and out of reach, the voice animating his existence yet forever elusive. 

Now, here you stand with your hair swept back in a loose bun, the soft blue of your scrubs complimenting your skin. In this moment, one thing is certain to Zayne—you are the reason he’s crossed the divides between your worlds. As you tend to the patient’s IV, your steady, soothing voice drifts toward Zayne as he leans against the wall, his chest constricted with unnamed emotions. “You’re doing great… Just a few more minutes, okay?” you murmur with a tender smile. Paralyzed, Zayne can only watch from the shadows, powerless as the woman who unknowingly breathed life into him continues her work, unaware of him standing just beyond her reach. 

Fluorescent lights softly hum overhead as you step outside the patient's room and glance down the hallway, only to see the empty corridor stretching into shadows. An odd sensation washes over you, almost like a whisper brushing past your ears, a subtle shift in the air that quickens your heart and makes your hair stand on end. This feeling persists over the next few weeks—subtle, unwavering, and strangely comforting… It’s as if a watchful presence follows you through the hospital: during your morning shift while filing paperwork, and when you take a moment to sip coffee in the break room. Sometimes, you catch just the faintest hint of movement out of the corner of your eye, only to find nothing there. Rather than instilling fear, your unseen observer feels like a gentle, familiar friend, lingering just out of sight. 

Zayne can’t find it in himself to speak to you yet. However, he also can’t tear his gaze away from you, even if watching you from a distance isn’t enough to quell his increasing desire for your presence. To divert his attention, he spends his days delving into research on medical institutions and the necessary steps to progress his career, feeling resolute about staying in this world. The opportunity to apply his skills to a significant cause is something Zayne isn’t willing to give up. 

Shortly after his arrival, Zayne received a letter from the game developers, revealing that he was one of four entities to unexpected sentience during the Beyond the Code event. Encouraged strongly to remain and utilize his skills and knowledge to improve this world, he was told, “This world could greatly benefit from a Doctor Zayne…” A lifetime of funding was granted, ensuring Zayne has more than enough wealth to live a life of leisure if it’s what he desires. Legal documents were artfully crafted to establish his legitimate identity, and a comfortable home was provided. They even extended an offer for him to bypass medical school, granting him an immediate role. But even Zayne’s degree is a falsehood… He yearns to experience the satisfaction of truly earning his accomplishments. The idea of securing his position through merit resonates deeply with him. Though he did secure a position at a prestigious institution, receiving a start date that alleviated a burden he hadn’t acknowledged carrying. Zayne harbors dreams of joining you after graduation, wherever that may be. It’s ironic, considering he struggles to muster up the courage even to approach you.

As you aid a challenging patient with their meal later in the afternoon, a familiar weight settles on your thoughts, offering a subtle push of support that fills you with an odd sense of comfort. Acting on instinct rather than reason, you opt for a different route to your car after your shift, guiding you through quieter corridors. A hint of movement just beyond the glow of the light’s reach catches your eye. Time seems to stretch into infinity as you catch a glimpse of him through the glass door, his recognizable outline seeming unbelievably real. Despite the uncertainty clouding your mind, you hurry after him, driven by an impulse you don’t question.

The world blurs around you, the sounds of leaves gently crunching under your feet as you step into the courtyard. In the soft evening light, the breeze tousles Zayne’s hair as he comes to a sudden halt, taken aback by the sound of his name on your lips. The unwavering certainty that the man standing before you is not a product of your imagination sends a jolt of alarm through you. As you gaze at him with a mix of wonder and admiration, Zayne keenly feels the intensity of your scrutiny, the way your eyes linger on his features. The warmth in your expression causes his heart to skip a beat.

“Ironic for us to meet here of all places, don't you think?” you jest, the playfulness in your tone instantly putting Zayne at ease. An undeniable sense of connection pulses between you, the rhythm aligning with the beat of your hearts. “Perhaps fate has a peculiar sense of humor,” he muses softly. Your shiver at the word “fate” doesn’t escape his notice. The word draws you nearer as if drawn by the same force that tugs at Zayne’s heartstrings. When you tentatively reach out to touch his cheek, unable to resist, he’s taken aback by the unexpected tenderness in your gesture. You yearn to find a way to keep him here, even just a little while longer…

“... There’s a bakery a few blocks away. They make amazing macaroons,” you suggest, a playful glint in your eyes as you bring up Zayne’s favorite dessert. A faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips at the idea of indulging in a treat, offering a welcoming diversion. With each step you take together, he becomes increasingly aware of your presence, feeling your arms almost brushing against each other, the warmth of your body just inches away. Unspoken is the fact that Zayne has already dined at this bakery twice before, yet it’s effortless to pretend it’s a new experience, especially with you by his side, making the dessert taste even sweeter. 

You can’t help but observe how naturally Zayne blends into this world, slipping into it with such ease that it seems he belonged here all along. He shares snippets of his journey to this palace, glossing over the crucial detail that your connection awakened his awareness. He worries knowing might make you feel compelled to stay by his side, and while he doesn’t have the first clue about love, he firmly believes obligation isn’t the path to true happiness. Additionally, he’s committed to starting a new chapter in his life—medical school demands his complete focus, and so does building his career. Then there’s his uncertainty about entering into a new relationship while still figuring out his own path… While he is capable of offering you all the material comforts, he desires more than just caring for you in some superficial way.

Should you stand beside Zayne, he wants to be someone you proudly claim as your own. If you would even want to claim him as your own… Though he'd never admit it, this deeply distressing notion holds him back the most. As you stroll through the park post-meal, Zayne finds himself enveloped by the subtle fragrance of your perfume and the comforting warmth of your company, evoking emotions he fails to comprehend. Each step quickens both your heart rates, a part of you yearning to bridge the gap, to extend a gentle touch, to feel his skin beneath your fingertips… But the shadow of potential rejection freezes you in place as well.

You steal occasional glances at Zayne, and he can’t help but detect a hint of longing in your eyes, though he questions if it’s just wishful thinking on his part. Would it be too slutty to just invite him home with you? Is there any value in feigning disinterest when you are fully aware of your desires and he stands so close, exuding warmth and vitality? You hold no hesitations or fears about the potential aftermath of being with him; screw the consequences. The sole obstacle is the emotional barriers Zayne painstakingly erects to prevent his feelings from surfacing. 

You settle into a cozy routine in the following weeks, often spending every bit of your free time together. Your bond strengthens as you explore the city and enjoy each other’s company, a progression Zayne deems risky as the palpable tension between you escalates. Stolen touches, lingering embraces, and gazes that linger just a beat too long. But neither of you has taken the first step, prompting you to question if your emotions are one-sided. And, despite the affection you openly display toward him, Zayne remains perplexed, arriving at a similar uncertainty. However, each shared moment only intensifies his longing for you… He’s becoming curious about how much longer he can keep this up.

Today, when he surprises you at the hospital with lunch, you take the opportunity to introduce him to some of your colleagues. Regret washes over you as a secretary, likely a Love and Deepspace player, gives Zayne a look akin to encountering a ghost. A nurse passes by, giggling and flashing Zayne a suggestive smile, prompting him to glance at you with a hint of embarrassment upon noticing the smirk on your face. Though you try to conceal it, a surge of unfamiliar and intense jealousy flares within you. 

“So, what should we do next?” he asks, unconsciously taking your hand. You meet his gaze, feeling a rush of warmth from his touch that leaves you momentarily breathless. The casual, unexpected contact stays with Zayne long after he leaves. He nearly cancels your dinner arrangements, unsure about spending the evening alone with you in your home. Perhaps he should have trusted his instincts…

After dinner, you settled in to watch a movie but found yourself drifting off, only to wake with your head resting on Zayne’s lap. He waited patiently for your breathing to steady before drawing you closer, his fingers tenderly combing through your hair, careful not to wake you. As you stir and open your eyes, he gazes down at you, his hand resting gently on your stomach. Startling slightly, he pulls away, only to catch his breath as your fingers brush lightly against his cheek. Zayne instinctively closes his eyes for a moment, savoring the softness of your touch.

In a hushed and breathless tone, your words send a sudden jolt of electricity through Zayne. “I can’t keep doing this, Zayne… pretending I don’t want you…” Zayne freezes, the weight of your confession sinking in. After a deep swallow to calm his racing heart, he finally manages to speak, his voice rough and barely a whisper. “... You… want me?” A shiver travels down his spine as your touch lingers on his jaw, your thumb tracing the lines with a delicate touch as you nod softly. 

His eyes widen when he feels the brush of your lips against his cheek, a gentle caress that ignites a tender wave of warmth throughout Zayne’s entire being. Taking your hand in his, he holds it gently between you, his expression a mix of disbelief and hope. “I thought you might not feel the same way towards me…” 

Taking a deep breath, you pause to collect your thoughts before gingerly sitting on his lap, your hands splayed across his stomach as you peer into his eyes. Zayne feels a blush creep up his cheeks, almost overwhelmed by the intensity of your gaze. Yet, it’s a sensation that he finds strangely exhilarating rather than uncomfortable—a novel and unfamiliar experience. Being intimate with someone is uncharted territory for him, and he’s surprised by the sudden rush of nerves it brings. The moment your lips meet is everything he’s wanted, needed, since he stepped into this world.

His fingers tighten around your hips, anchoring you in place as he kisses you back. Your body presses against him just a bit, the sensation making him nearly dizzy. His hand glides around to the small of your back, delicately drawing you closer, his fingers dancing lightly across your spine in a gentle, rhythmic caress. Zayne’s breathing grows ragged as your tongue glides across his ear, feeling himself melting beneath you. The sound of his moan prompts you to grip him tighter, your fingers tangling in his silky hair. His hands glide up your back, tracing a path to the nape of your neck as he pulls you closer with a sense of urgency, kissing you with a passion he never realized he possessed.

The deliberate way you undo the buttons of his shirt leaves him feeling weak and lightheaded. He senses your breath hitch at the sight of him shirtless, sees the longing reflected in your features. His eyes widen a fraction as your whispered, “... how can you possibly still be this perfect…?” reaches his ears, causing a fierce blush to creep along his cheeks. 

The feeling of your hands traveling down his chest and abs makes his breath hitch, nearly driving him mad… When you kneel before him, his pulse quickens, his heart seeming to stop entirely. Your fingertips trace over his length through the fabric of his slacks, leaving him gasping for air, the exquisite sensation sending shockwaves up his spine. Observing your gentle touch and the desire painted across your features, glazing your expression with arousal, triggers a shift in Zayne. His hands reach out and tangle in your hair, gripping lightly as a low, gravelly whisper escapes him, “... you are going to drive me… crazy… aren’t you?” 

The tender and affectionate smile you offer as you place a kiss on the material of his pants, so delicate and endearing, nearly undoes him. He releases a sharp breath, his eyes closing briefly as the sensation surges through him like a blaze. “Please… don’t toy with me,” he pleads, already struggling to maintain whatever semblance of control he has left. 

As you delicately unzip him and release him, a gasp catches in your throat. The perfection of the man before you is nothing short of surreal. The gentle touch of your tongue against the head of his cock, so soft and wet, elicits a deep groan from Zayne, his grip on your hair tightening. Mind so clouded from pleasure he can hardly think, he almost fails to grasp the meaning of your playful murmur, “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to suck your cock just like this, Doctor Zayne… Am I… doing a good job…?”

Locking eyes with you, he runs his fingers down your arms, mustering a hoarse whisper, “F-fuc— I… Yes… Y-yes, you’re doing so well…” Zayne’s control hangs by a thread as you flash him a blissful smile before taking him deep in your throat.

Without realizing it, he starts exploring your body. His fingertips trace softly over your shoulder, down your chest, giving your breast a gentle squeeze, his other hand still entwined in your hair. Zayne’s trying so hard to hold on. To be gentle and considerate. But the longer you keep pleasuring him, the more challenging it becomes, and eventually, he breaks.

His hips buck against you, allowing himself a brief, desperate moment to seize what he desires. Quivering at your tongue caressing his skin, his breath runs ragged and uneven. His voice, unfamiliar to his ears, is so husky it’s nearly a growl, “I want you—all of you.” 

As he pulls you close, feeling your body cradled in his lap and hearing your breathless gasp, his heart quickens its pace. He kisses you deeply, his hand strokes your cheek, the touch gentle and caring. Briefly breaking away from your lips, he plants soft kisses along your jawline, trailing down your neck as he leisurely explores your form. His eyes wander over your figure as he slips your dress down to release you, brimming with raw desire.

Your skin prickles with goosebumps as his fingers journey, sending a quiver through you that catches his breath. Zayne can’t resist releasing a soft, hoarse whisper, “Every part of you is just so beautiful…” Tenderly caressing your breasts, he explores your soft curves, sensing your chest rise and fall beneath his touch. Zayne has no idea if he’s doing this correctly... But with his hand slipping under your dress, tracing up your stomach, your gasps filling the air, he can feel the way your body responds to his touch… It’s enough to make his heart race and his head spin. 

As he slowly lifts your dress, exposing your hips to him, a surge of desire engulfs him, intense and urgent. Zayne’s fingers softly skim over the lace, feeling the delicate fabric before tracing its outline… Merely feeling you there makes him acutely aware of how much he craves this… craves you… His breath quickens as he murmurs, “May I…?” A gentle wave of gratitude washes over him as you blush, nodding in silent agreement. 

Slowly, meticulously, Zayne unravels the lace, his breath hitching when you bite your thumb to stifle your needy sounds, a sight likely to drive him to madness.

The feeling of his finger tracing over your soft, wet skin, your quiet gasp at his touch… It’s almost too much… He moves in small circles over your clit, his voice so incredibly low and husky as he murmurs, “Like this, my love…?” When you moan against him, your whisper of “yes” soft and breathless, Zayne senses his heart race quicken, his lips seeking yours once more. 

Despite knowing your body is more than prepared, his fingers come to your lips with a quiet command, “Get them ready for me...” The image of you, so eager and hungry for him in a manner he never imagined he could crave… Zayne can’t tear his gaze away, can���t stop, his eyes locked on you as your tongue dances over his fingers. Waves of ecstasy surge through him when you playfully nip at his skin, his voice so hoarse it’s barely above a whisper, “... I’m starting to worry my newfound existence may be cut short…” You were on the verge of stopping his heart altogether.

It’s when you lead his hand downward, positioning it where you want him most, that Zayne reaches his breaking point. The feeling of being inside you, of sensing your body shudder and curl into his, leaves his mind spinning. Your whisper of his name amidst gasps makes his body burn with a need he can’t ignore. His arm wraps tightly around you, admiring the perfect way you fit against him.

The sounds you make responding to his movements are so beautiful and vulnerable, as you cling to him and press your face into his chest. The knowledge that he can unravel you in such a way leaves Zyne feeling both empowered and overwhelmed. As the pleasure reaches its peak and you whine, “I—I can’t…” his lips graze against your neck as he softly implores, “Please… let me see you…” 

Your pussy pulls him in deeper, quivering in his embrace as your release washes over you. Your body responding to his touch like this, becoming so sticky and needy for him, your whimper against his skin as you take him as far as you can… it feels like every one of Zayne’s forbidden desires materializing. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his forehead pressed against yours as he tries to collect himself.

As your lips crush against his, he meets you, the kiss so full of passion and longing that it leaves you both gasping for air. His fingers weave into your hair, drawing you near as he whispers between kisses, “How am I supposed to stop when you make me feel this way…?” You straddle his lap, moving against him with urgency as you carelessly toss your dress aside, the feeling of your heated, exposed skin against his cock sending his thoughts spiraling.

Your hands meander across his body, discovering every contour, the last of his self-control crumbling beneath your caress. As your lips travel to his neck, leaving a mark in their wake, you pull back abruptly, your fingers lingering hesitantly over the spot. Zayne shivers in response, his heart thundering in his chest as he manages to whisper, “... Go ahead, love… Make me yours…” Even to himself, Zayne sounds desperate, but he can’t help it; his mind, clouded with longing, overrides any sense of reason.

Driven by the desire to claim him in a way more profound than a mere bruise, you guide his cock deep inside you, your body taking him as far as possible. The way you bite into his skin, leaving your imprint, your moan muffled against his shoulder, becomes almost unbearable for Zayne. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, your tongue tracing his… every movement of your body causes his thoughts to blur… every whimper and expression of pleasure emanating from you sounds like the most beautiful thing he’s ever experienced.

He lets you glide over him, your body moving against his in deliberate, unhurried motions that steal his breath away. His mouth explores your breast, his tongue playing with the delicate bud before his touch grows hungry, his hands holding you in place. When Zayne locks eyes with you, the gaze within nearly unravels him, causing his breath to catch in his chest with each of your soft cries. 

Feeling your quiet whimpers against his lips as he kisses you once more… His need consumes him, the yearning for you becoming too much… Unable to contain himself any longer, he grips your hips tightly, moving you against him with a force that leaves you both shaking.

His hunger overwhelms him, the need for you so intense it’s like fire in his veins. He can’t keep his motions gentle anymore, his hands grasping your hips, moving you against him with a force that has you both shaking. Nothing could have prepared Zayne for this… the sight of you, the feel of your touch, the sound of your voice… 

His voice is a low, ragged exhale, his lips tracing a path to your neck, softly brushing against your skin as he murmurs hoarsely, “You can’t imagine… how incredible you feel…” His words taper off, the rocking of your hips against him causing a whirlwind in his mind, a gentle moan slipping from his lips. Maintaining composure becomes an illusion, his hips instinctively rising to meet your movements. 

A faint whimper gets caught in his throat as you increase the intensity of your movements, prompting a desperate request, “Zayne, more… please…” when it proves insufficient. Zayne’s thoughts whirl out of order as he reacts swiftly, turning you around and slipping back inside you, whispering tenderly, “Shh… I’ve got you, love… I’m here…” 

His body quivers as you guide his hand to your throat. You’re so soft and so warm, so trusting… so perfect… the sense of holding your life so entirely in his grasp, utterly and unquestionably his… Zayne wants you so badly he can’t breathe. He doesn’t realize that his grip tightens around your neck, his kisses and bites to your body growing more forceful as he asserts control. His fingers dig into your hip, his hold firm and possessive as he draws you near, a soft moan slipping from him as your pussy clenches around his cock.

You wiggle against him, your voice turning soft and hesitant, innocence laced with urgency as you plead, “Finish inside me, Zayne? … Please…?” Zayne’s breath catches, a rough gasp escaping him as he firmly grasps your waist, keeping you still. Battling his overwhelming need at the idea of completing you, he tenderly nudges your chin, urging you to meet his gaze. Locking eyes with you, he whispers, “I… Are you certain?” 

With a soft nod, you lean over the coffee table, gripping it tightly as Zayne follows, drawing you to the edge and filling you once more. Your body laid out before him, your pleading voice… He can’t stop himself, not with you begging him, not with the look in your eyes and your urgent sounds in his ears. Zayne seizes you by the throat, bringing you flush against him, pressing as deeply into your soft body as possible, calling out your name as his essence flows into you. His voice, a gentle murmur against your skin, intertwines with warm, tender touches as you both pause to catch your breath, holding each other tightly.

In the shower, warm water cascades down your tired bodies. Zayne delicately washes your hair, his touch gentle and soft, his lips seeking yours as if they were meant for that exact purpose. Initially a bit rigid as your fingers run through his hair, a gesture of care he’s unaccustomed to, Zayne gradually eases under your tender touch, soothing words, and the sweet kisses along his skin. Relaxation washes over him, his mind clearing, eyes shutting softly as you continue tending to his hair. 

You effortlessly settle into a routine of mutual care, nurturing your blooming relationship. On Zayne’s inaugural day at school, you surprise him with lunch, locking eyes and capturing his hand with a smile. “So, how’s the first day going?” you inquire cheerfully, leaning back in your chair, your fingers intertwined with his. Zayne’s heart swells at the sound of your voice, savoring every nuance of your joyful demeanor. “It’s only been a few hours…” he responds, his thumb caressing the back of your hand playfully, “but if you keep showing up like this, I might just make it through.”

Your smile widens, a soft laughter escaping your lips in response. “I’m so proud of you, Zayne…” These straightforward words, words that Zayne had yearned for, fill him with a gentle sense of contentment, stirring emotions his struggles to put into words. “Proud of me, huh? That means a lot, coming from someone like you,” he murmurs, his smile turning teasing and affectionate. “Careful, you might inflate my ego…” You playfully roll your eyes, your face contorting in a mischievous expression as you unwrap a sandwich. “... If anyone could use an ego boost, it’s you, Zayne. You’re completely oblivious to your own wonderful qualities…”

Zayne chuckles at your remark, glancing around to ensure privacy before he leans in to plant a deep kiss on your lips, then trailing down to your neck. In a low, amused whisper against your skin, he quips, “Completely oblivious, huh? With words like that, your ego does indeed outshine mine…” 

Zayne's sense of joy and contentment is almost surreal. Just months ago, he had arrived here, consumed by fear and uncertainty. Now, he feels a sense of belonging and completeness that surpasses anything he’s ever experienced. He can’t wait to see what a future with you by his side holds. Returning to your lips, Zayne is brimming with happiness, his words flowing with raw sincerity as he gazes into your eyes and whispers, “... Thank you, my love.” ♡

[zhelin-thames]

Coffee, Chaos, and the Red Hood

prompt idea for @silverblueglitter

Danny sat hunched over a half-empty coffee cup in the corner of the small Gotham cafe, the flickering overhead lights barely doing anything to lift the oppressive gloom hanging in the air. His textbook lay open in front of him, the numbers and formulas nothing but a blur of nonsense. He'd barely slept the night before, cramming for a test that was in less than 30 minutes. All he wanted was a quiet moment—just a sip of coffee, a few minutes to breathe.

Then, the door slammed open, and a masked man with a gun stormed inside. The entire room went cold with panic.

"Everybody on the ground, NOW!" the man shouted, his voice a raspy echo in the dead silence.

Danny froze, the world going hazy as his mind tried to comprehend what was happening. He looked at his watch. Thirty minutes. Thirty damn minutes. He could feel his pulse quickening, the raw edge of exhaustion settling deep in his bones.

Tears welled in his eyes. "Why?" he whispered. "Why does the universe hate me?"

His voice cracked with the frustration of it all. The test. The sleepless nights. The constant grind, the fear, the never-ending cycle. The guy with the gun was yelling, barking orders, but it felt like his voice was coming from miles away. Nothing mattered. Nothing made sense. The injustice, the senselessness of it all—he just wanted a moment to himself.

But that was it. Something snapped.

Before he could even think, his body moved. He lunged at the gunman, faster than he realized. His hands gripped the guy's wrist, wrenching the weapon from his fingers in a flurry of desperate anger.

"I'm JUST TRYING TO GET COFFEE!" Danny screamed, the words torn from the depths of his soul. "I HAVE A TEST IN 30 MINUTES. SHUT UP. LET ME FUCKING LIVE, MAN!"

In that instant, it was all rage. Raw, untamed, the world around him disappearing as his hands took over. A punch. Another. The sound of bones cracking under his fists filled his ears. He didn't care. He didn't care about the gun, the robber, or even the chaos around him. All that mattered was the pounding of his fists, the overwhelming fury of a world that had pushed him too far.

And then, just as quickly as it began, it stopped. The man crumpled to the floor, blood streaming from his broken nose and mouth. Danny's hands were slick with it, his breathing heavy and ragged.

From the doorway, there was the distinct sound of a voice that made his heart freeze.

"Nice form."

Danny turned, eyes blurry from tears and adrenaline, to see a figure standing in the shadows—tall, armored, and unmistakably dangerous.

The Red Hood.

He stood with arms crossed, his helmet giving nothing away, but the nod of approval was clear. "You’ve got some real rage in you. Gotham needs more people like you."

Danny blinked, his heart still pounding, his hands shaking. It didn't feel real. He didn’t even care that the Red Hood was there, didn't care about Gotham's underworld or the crime scene. Maybe it was a good day after all. He had just fought off a robber with nothing but his bare hands, after all.

"Yeah," Danny muttered under his breath. "Maybe."

There was an unspoken understanding between them. Gotham was a place where people broke, bent, and sometimes, the only thing that saved them was a release of rage. Danny felt like he had just tapped into something darker, something deep inside of him that had been bubbling under the surface for so long. He didn’t know if it was strength or just desperation, but it had worked.

Before Danny could say anything else, the door to the cafe creaked open, and a few uniformed officers stepped in, their eyes immediately landing on the scene. Red Hood didn’t flinch; he just gave Danny one last look, a silent nod of approval, then turned toward the back exit.

"Good luck, kid," he said, before vanishing into the shadows.

Then, as sirens wailed in the distance, he let out a long, shaky breath and slumped back into the chair. Gotham had a way of ruining your day. But sometimes, it had a way of giving you something you never expected, too. Even if that something was just a quiet moment of crazy, bizarre, Gotham-style peace.

Minus the burgling, of course.

Danny didn’t even get the chance to respond. The officers started moving toward him, questioning him, but it didn’t matter anymore. He could hear the chaos of Gotham creeping back in—the sirens, the sounds of life—and for once, it didn’t feel like it was drowning him. He was a part of it now, whether he liked it or not.

As they cuffed the robber and started making their report, Danny took a long, shaky breath and muttered under his breath, "Maybe Gotham’s not so bad after all."

And maybe it wasn’t. Not today, anyway.

[icarusredwings]

This only fits into my idea that Wolvie is demi. Sure he knows someones hot when he sees them but he dosn't really... feel anything.

He's been alive so long that people doing stuff to him just feels... kind of annoying at this point? Like yeah, okay, in Logan the drunk wife girl flashed her tits at him and he snorted, and rolled his eyes all embaressed but I don't think this counts as "hot and bothered." I think this counts as "omg lady calm down lol im just the driver lol" he did think it was a nice gesture but its an empty gesture and thats why it dosn't really do anything for him.

I think this is why he and Kurt get along so well (HERE ME OUT) Because one of kurts biggest "flaws" is that he is extremely touchy, and while the other x men cant touch logan much or lean on him, sit on him, etc, Kurt can full pearch on him and Logan dosn't care. Actually he does care. He's glad. He's happy that Kurt feels this safe with him. Happy that he feels comfortable enough to be around "the angry guy with claws". Happy that Kurt openly gives him affection without there being this weird "okay now we have to fuck" silent agreement. Logan is so tired of trying to get to know someone, cuddle them and hug them, without them immediately expecting them to sleep together. (*JINGLES KEYS* Stay with me!)

And i mean... no.. hes not sex repulsed clearly but it dosn't feel right in his chest. To fuck someone and then they leave. Wolverines mate for life so I think the thing is, what gets him hot and bothered is proving youll stay. Sticking it out with him through all times, telling him you're never going to leave him.

Then- Oh good golly then? Everything is horny worthy. You could just be sitting there and he'd get all pissy because now hes horny and mad about it. You could cassually bring him food and say you thought he might be hungry and he'll let the food get cold because hes too busy fucking you, and then eat the food after to show gratitude and appreciation.

Logan is not meant for hook up culture. He is made for "Our souls are so intertwined that seperating us would put a tear in the universe."

He could see someone whole ass naked and just blink and ask where their clothes went. You could tell him that you want him to do the dirtiest things and he'd probably just blush and think you have alternate motives.

I like to think that he does sometimes finally accept a hook up here and there simply because A. Why not. He hasnt been held in awhile and B. Why not he's literally gonn live forever might as well get some tail if they're offering.

But if and when he finds that person(s) he's locked in. Theres nothing no one else could do that would make him all hot and bothered. Someone could literally give him a lap dance and hed probably just sit there confused as hell, tell them stop, or just leave. It doesn't do anything for him at all.

Now litsen (at least in Finding Home Au, cause theyre married) Wade could come slip into bed with him, very gently rub his arm, kiss him goodnight, then cuddle into his back and Logan would automatically sit up and glare at him cause now hes hard.

"Why do you keep doing that?! Stop!"

And wades all confused "stop what?" Cause hes genuienly tired, but too bad cause Wolvie puts that baby to sleep a different way. (Best sleeps of his life btw)

Morph too, I feel like in 97 morph gets a lot of passes for jokes and touchiness. I also feel like that for the first week (maybe a month idk logan is dumb) or so logan thinks moprh is joking and dosnt actually care about him in that way, so morph starts saying more genuine and sensitive things to him and Logan now is actually blushing, still in denial but is catching butterflies, hoping that morph isnt lying but is too scared to make a move, worried their friendship will end.

Man idk what to say about storm. Logan was hot for storm the first time she punched him in the face. Idk what to tell yall, hes a simp for that woman and I am too so like I get it. Id be terrified to fuck storm though if I was litTERALLY MADE OF METAL like bruh he has more balls then me cause id be scared shed kill me after I ate her out by electrocuting me with my skull crushed between her thighs. ANYWAY

🫡🫡GLORRRY GLORY WHAT A HELLUVA WAY TO DIE 🪖🪖💪

I think Logan would be very difficult to get hot and bothered. Like. He's been through so much yanno?

Like flash a titty at this man and he'll probably be like, "what the fuck am I supposed to do with that? Can't you take me to dinner first?"

[3amfanfiction]

Father MacTavish

Johnny MacTavish x you Synopsis: Nothing but religious vibes (gross) sorry guys. Father MacTavish is fed up with you flaunting yourself at every opportunity. He decides it's time for you to be shown how to be properly pious. Cw: power imbalance, religion, corporal punishment, dubcon, oral, shoe humping. This is definitely a case of another cake so thank you to everyone who's written lecherous priests before me.

Father MacTavish was a handsome sort. With his bright blue eyes and the way he filled out his dark vestments he knew he drew the eye of his followers—men and women alike. He both welcomed it and tried not to take advantage at the same time.

Even still, he had been known to slip. He was only human after all but as the Good Lord said, we are all worthy of forgiveness for our sins. We must simply ask.

He tried to remember his own mortal failings and to be gentle on his parishioners when they inevitably fell to temptation. Whether that be envying a neighbor's sudden windfall or taking the Lord's name in vain, he tried to be lenient when they told him of their sins. Tried not to lose his temper on his flock that was his to lead.

That all went out the window when someone had temerity to throw themselves at him though. Him, a man of the cloth, and some trollop wanted to be lewd in his presence? Wanted to flash an unseemly amount of thigh when they crouched down to pick up a fallen piece of paper, their breasts pushed up to their neckline in an effort to entrance him?

No. He wouldn't abide by it.

Some things simply went too far.

He drew you aside one day after the sermon, ostensibly to speak about an upcoming program the church would be putting on in the coming months. You had always been eager to help with any functions the church hosted and this time was no exception.

"Father, how can I help you?" Temptation is the sign of the devil.

"If you're not too busy my dear, I was hoping you could come by tomorrow evening? There's some logistical help I need and I know you'd be just the person for the job."

"Of course, Father MacTavish. You know I'm always available for anything you might need."

You smiled up at him, eyelashes fluttering around your pretty eyes. Even now you worked to entrance him. Temptation and lust rolled into a single pretty package attempting to sharpen your teeth on him.

"Wonderful, come find me when you get here and we'll get this all straightened out properly. Enjoy the rest of your day, my dear."

That night he prayed for the Lord's guidance as in all things. He knew he was prone to mortal failings like the rest of his flock and so looked to the Lord for assurance.

He thought back on the way your plump hips had pressed against the thin fabric of your skirt, the line of your panties showing you had forgone your slip when dressing for the day. Such immoralness filled him with emotion and he was reassured he was on the correct path.

It was his job to guide his flock out of the darkness and into the light. Satan was clearly digging his fingers into you if this was how you acted in a house of God. He wouldn't let your soul suffer eternal damnation when he could save you with a bit of discomfort now. Ending his prayer he was filled with a sense of resolution.

It was settled then.

The next evening saw you walking into the empty church in another tantalizing dress. The flowing skirt ended right at your knees, giving glimpses of your thighs with each step, a siren call of harlotry. Had you no shame? Flaunting yourself in front of a priest. It was another sign that you needed him. Needed him to guide you.

"Father MacTavish, I'm here as you requested," you chirped. "How can I help?"

Guiding you towards the alter he watched as you took in the rice spread across the ground, generous handfuls thrown against the shining wooden floor, laying in wait.

"It's how I can help you, my lamb. You've fallen to perversion and as the shepherd of your immortal soul, it is my responsibility to guide you back to the light. Now, now," he hushed you with a raised hand as you started to protest, "I know the truth of it and I care not for how it came to be. My only concern is where we go from here."

He watched you struggle, clearly wanting to argue but too cognizant of your respective standings to put up much fuss. There were glimpses of a true, pure spirit under the cover of your prurience. He would soon have it shining for all to see.

He watched as you acquiesced, having mentally run through all the arguments you could make and his likely rebuttals. This was his duty to you and he would see it through, no vacillation would change his mind.

Finally, you sank to your knees, kneeling on the grains of rice with a wince.

"You may begin your prayers, my child. I'll be here with you."

As you clasped your hands and began your recitation, he watched you. He watched the way your chest rose and fell with each breath, the way you shifted on your bed of rice, trying to find a comfortable position but each shift only making it worse, the way your face crinkled in discomfort, voice hitching with a shuddering exhalation of your words.

Even now you maintained your aura of enticement.

He began to have a reaction of the body, his cock thickening and pressing against the placket of his pants. He widened his stance, giving himself some relief from the pressure. The church was silent aside from your words, the cadence of them lulling him into a familiar headspace.

It was jarring when it was broken.

"Father, how much longer am I to pray?" you pleaded, looking up at him with watery eyes from the continuous pain of the hard grains pressing into your delicate skin, voice slightly raspy after your lengthy prayers.

"Even now you try to beguile your way out of a required lesson." Disappointing. He had had higher hopes for you. "I had prayed this would be enough for you to see the wickedness of your ways but if I must go further then I will. I won't shirk in my duty to your soul, my child."

With a world-weary sigh he moved behind you, fiddling with the front of his pants as he went. He dropped to his knees, chest to your back, and placed heavy palms on your shoulders holding you steady.

Pressing firmly into your back, he said, "Just know this doesn't bring me any joy. This is the Lord's decree and I carry it out as I carry out all my tasks. With surety that my actions will ensure your place in our Father's home when the time comes."

Sliding his hands down he came to a stop along the outsides of your thighs. Grabbing fistfuls of your skirt he began to lift.

"Father MacTavish!" you yelped, hands dropping to try and keep the fabric in place.

"Continue your prayers, child," he dropped his gathered handfuls and reached out, encircling your wrists with warm, thick fingers before moving your hands back to your front to be clasped again. "The sooner you properly repent, the sooner your lesson will end."

He pressed his palms to your hips, waiting until you shakily restarted up your prayers before tugging your skirt upwards once more, pausing each time you did. He looked down as the soft fabric raised above your backside, smooth skin covered by a thin pair of panties—all that was keeping you from him.

Your voice stuttered to a stop as he dipped his hand between your thighs, stroking from your clit through your dampening slit, your underwear slowly darkening as he pressed it ever so slightly inside of you before withdrawing. You squealed in shock as he pulled back to swat a quick palm to your swelling clit.

"Why must I keep repeating myself? What is it I told you to do?"

"Y—you told me to keep praying. Father." you stuttered, tongue tripping over your words in your shock.

"And did you forget the words to your prayers?"

"No, Father."

"Then continue."

As you once more began to recite your orisons he returned to his stroking—a steady draw from clit through slit, the gusset of your panties all that separated him from your skin. Your warmth radiated through the fabric now dark with slick. A wet rasp heard during the lulls of your speech as he dragged his strong fingers over the cloth.

You were soaked by the time he deigned to pull them to the side and repeat his actions, this time dragging through damp curls before your plump lips spread around the tip of his fingers—nothing to shield your most intimate place from him.

He restrained himself at first—never pushing inside, just a slow drag of skin against skin as he spread your wetness across your folds. You squirmed in place, caught between the pain of kneeling and the pleasure he was providing. A hitching of your hips before a shuffling of your knees.

Your gasped protests as he eventually sunk his finger in to the knuckle did nothing to deter him. If anything, the resultant wave of heat that made its way through his body confirmed he was on the right path. He must show you the sins of the life you were leading.

It was his duty.

One finger quickly became two became three. He pressed and caressed, stroking along the delicate skin of your insides, fingers catching on a sensitive spongy bit that had a strangled gasp slipping from your lips. He played you like a harp—never ceasing, never faltering.

Your slick dripped down to his wrist by the time he deemed you suitably prepared. Holding your panties to the side he notched his tip against your opening and pressed inward, his fingers clenching and tugging at your dress where they were clutched at your hips. He struggled to maintain his composure at the feel of your wet heat. The slick press of you stroked along the sensitive skin of his cockhead, stirring him to greater heights with every centimeter gained.

"I cant, Father MacTavish it's too mu-ch!" you ended on a yelp as he took your distraction to push in another inch, drawing back and pressing forward in a sawing motion, teasing you with the possibility that he might seat himself fully each time. Your slick covered his cock, allowing each subsequent stroke to glide more smoothly than the last.

"This is to be your lesson. When you act like a whore you will be treated like a whore. You worked so hard to draw my eye and now you have it," he asserted with a curled lip.

Pushing firmly one last time he pressed his hips to your backside, sliding deeply inside you as he kissed your cervix. Tears fell from your eyes in sheets, a constant outpouring at the overwhelming sensations as you scrambled for purchase.

"I do this to save your soul, child, now be a good lamb and take it," he snarled and snapped his hips into you with force, a smack sounding with each meeting between the fat of your backside and his pelvis. He maintained his rhythm for a few moments before coming to a standstill, pressed deeply inside of you.

"I don't believe I told you to stop your prayers," he sighed. "This reminding is becoming quite tedious."

He reached down and pinched harshly at your clit causing you to squeal and attempt to buck up, away from his grip. He followed along with you, keeping an unyielding grip on the sensitive bundle of nerves. If you'd been crying before you were downright sobbing now.

"I'm sorry Father, it's just . . . it hurts. The rice hurts."

"If your dress wasn't the length of a whore's then this wouldn't hurt nearly as much. You would've had a soft layer between you and the rice but you wanted to flaunt yourself in God's house."

Sniffling, you started up once more—a hitching recitation echoing off the ornate walls of the church, the only sound beside the rasp and clap of skin on skin.

He made a game of it. He knew he shouldn't, that this was a lesson for his one of his flock and not something he should be using to entertain himself but he found himself falling into a pattern. He would pick up a steady rhythm of thrusts—allowing you to catch your breath and for your speech to take on a steady cadence before driving forward with vigor, punching into you with sharp, biting thrusts causing you to lose your breath and your place. He wanted to see if you could maintain your composure through your trials.

You hadn't yet.

It was during one of these stretches that you began to tense up, pushing back to meet him with each drive of his hips as if you were chasing something of your own. With a reedy cry you came, squeezing around him rhythmically as you stuttered to a stop, too caught up in the sensations to continue speaking.

He froze—a thunderous look crossing his face.

"Did you just find release around my cock?" he hissed in shock. "And I thought we had reached the end of your depravity."

He didn't give you time to plead your case, resuming his thrusting and ignoring your pleading as he pressed through your over-stimulation and built you back up towards another release. He clenched his hands on your hips, your dress crinkling between his fingers.

With each firm pull back onto his cock the fabric of along your chest pulled taut, inching downward towards where it was being tugged. You choked as the fabric finally gave way, sinking down below your breasts to allow them to spill out of the low neckline. Your lack of bra ensured they swung madly to his tempo.

You were just beginning to flutter around his length, muscles dancing to a beat only they knew, when he stopped completely and pulled out, ignoring the breathy what? you squeaked out.

Pulling back, his thick cock fell to the side, smearing your wetness against his furred thigh and trousers as a heavy plap was heard. Rising with a grunt he moved around to your front, looking down at you kneeling on your bed of rice. What a picture you made. Your breasts spilled over the top of your dress and your face was shiny with tears, eyes red-rimmed and glossy.

Beautiful.

"Oh my child, look at what a mess you've made of yourself." He reached out to wipe away a tear, "I know this must be difficult but we must preserver through our trials in order to find the Lord's grace. Now—open," he commanded, tapping the tip of his cock against your tear stained lips, "and put that provoking tongue out."

You sniffled and opened your mouth, hesitantly sticking out your tongue as he'd commanded. He waited and watched as drool collected and then dropped off the tip. Pressing forwards he dragged his sensitive head along the muscle. He sighed in relief at the sensation, teasing himself with a side-to-side caress before he slid into your heat.

He bit back a groan as the wet sensation swallowed him, watching as you made a slight face at the combined taste of you. He rocked himself forward gently, allowing you to get used to the sensation before slowly deepening his strokes.

Slowly sliding down to the back of your mouth, he held there for a moment, letting the drool gather as you fought not to gag around his length. Your lips were smooth where they had stretched wide around his girth, jaw mostly likely already aching.

Pulling back he let you catch your breath, swallowing and coughing as you received unobstructed access to air. He caressed the side of your face gently.

"You look so beautiful like this," he hummed, "practically angelic. Do you feel you have learned your lesson? Have you come to understand God's will?"

When you nodded furiously he smiled fondly and slid his foot forward, shiny black shoe coming to rest comfortably between your spread thighs.

"I am not completely without compassion, my child. Go ahead, you may use my foot to bring yourself to release while you continue."

It wasn't surprising how quickly you shifted to rest your covered center over the tip of his shoe, mouth opening as you leaned towards him, looking to have him in your mouth once more.

He reached out to hold onto the sides of your head, guiding you to his preferred tempo as you humped shamelessly on his foot. He knew his shoe would be shined slick by the time you were done.

After having teased himself for so long it was no shock how quickly his own release was on him. He held onto it with gritted teeth as he watched you climb towards your own high once more, waiting out your convulsions before pulling back to paint your breasts with his spend. He watched them glisten, dripping white as he caught his breath.

Tucking himself away he helped you to your feet, tweaking your nipples before he pulled the fabric of your dress up over them once more, covering the evidence of his release with the cloth.

He wiped your tear-stained cheeks with fondness, "There, there, no need for further tears. It's over and done with, my child, nothing further to worry about."

He guided you to the entrance of the church after you had composed yourself, eyes still puffy and red-rimmed but clear. He kept a hand placed low on your back to steady you.

"I trust you've learned the errors of your ways?" When you nodded firmly he smiled warmly. "Good. Then be at peace in the Lord's forgiveness."

He ushered you out of the church and closed the door behind you, never knowing you were mentally going through your dress options, already planning on a shorter length for this Sunday's service.

|||

All Stories || Main Repository

[mylovesstuffs]

Joshua is THAT type of boyfriend

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

A/N: Sorry, I got carried away and made it too long TT.

Joshua isn't just a sweet talker, he’s a menace with his words. Imagine him leaning in with that soft smirk and his warm eyes as he whispers, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” and you’re not even dressed up—just in sweats. You’d roll your eyes, but your heart? Oh, it’s flipping. And don’t even try to sass back.

Always using terms of endearment like, darling, love, babe.

He's the boyfriend who somehow always wins every argument you guys ever had.

This man would curate the most soul-melting playlists just for you. Love songs, sexy R&B tracks, even songs that remind him of you.

Don’t let the gentleman image fool you. He knows exactly what he’s doing when he gently tugs at your shirt collar, brushing his fingers against your skin as he adjusts it. And the way he smirks when he catches you staring? He’ll lean in and say, “Like what you see?” in that voice, making you combust on the spot.

You’re craving snacks at 11 p.m.? Joshua’s already putting on his jacket. He’ll hold your hand as you wander through the store, teasing you about your odd snack combinations but still buying them all anyway.

He’s the ultimate cuddler. Joshua will rest his chin on your head, his arms securely around your waist, and murmur little nothings that make your heart feel all warm and squishy.

The Protective Gentleman™: Someone dares to make you uncomfortable in public or even in private? Joshua’s usually gentle demeanor shifts in an instant. He’ll place a hand on your waist and give the offender a look so cold they’ll apologize themselves without a word.

Look, Joshua is a giver and overachiever in the bedroom. He’s the type to ask, “Do you like this?” in that deep, husky voice while holding eye contact. And when you can’t even form words? That’s his cue to smirk and go harder, exactly the way he knows you like. He’s all about making sure you’re the one who’s utterly wrecked by the end of fucking.

Joshua is the boyfriend who insists on holding you close whenever you’re cold.

“You’re so smart.” “How do you look this good all the time?” “I’m so lucky you’re mine.” He’s not over the top, but his compliments are so genuine that they leave you smiling for hours. Even if you’re having a bad day, Joshua’s words have this magical way of lifting you up without fail.

He remembers everything. Your coffee order, your favorite way to fold socks, the random anecdote you told him months ago—Joshua stores it all like it’s precious treasure.

Joshua will absentmindedly play with your hair all the time. Whether you’re watching a movie or lying in bed, his fingers are threading through your strands, gently tugging just to make you look at him.

Joshua looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. He’s the boyfriend who says, “I want to grow old with you,” and you know he means it.

He might be soft-spoken, but the second you start pushing his buttons? You’re done for. His voice drops an octave, and he’s gripping your wrist with just enough pressure to make you stop in your tracks. “Keep testing me,” he’d say, with that calm, terrifying tone that sends shivers down your spine. And when you do, let’s just say you won’t win the next round...

Picture this: Joshua in an apron, trying his best to follow a recipe while sneaking bites of whatever you’re making. Flour ends up on both your faces, and he’s laughing so hard that you forget you burned the cookies. “Let’s just order pizza,” he’d say, pulling you into a hug that makes everything better. (Queue this)

If you’re ever upset, Joshua knows just what to do. He’ll hold you close, his voice will be soft as he reassures you. He doesn’t rush you to feel better; he just stays by your side, offering quiet support and the kind of love that makes you feel safe no matter what.

Joshua isn’t afraid to be goofy with you. He’ll make silly faces, sing off-key just to make you laugh.

Well, he's got the whole church-boy aura, but let’s not be naive here. That glint in his eyes when he’s pinning you against the wall during a heated makeout session is pure sin. He’ll whisper something like, “What would people think if they saw you like this?” just to watch you squirm. And don’t even think about trying to outplay him—he thrives on seeing you flustered.

At concerts, he’ll sneak little glances at you in the crowd and smile like you’re the only person in the world. HE IS UNREAL.

Joshua is the type to trail his fingers over every inch of your skin, memorizing the way you react to his touch. He’ll tilt your chin up gently, his thumb brushing your lower lip before kissing you like it’s his last day on Earth. It’s slow, intense, and leaves you aching for more.

He’s not flashy, but he’ll keep his hand on your lower back or entwine his fingers with yours, squeezing lightly whenever he feels like it.

He doesn’t even need to try to make your knees weak. He’ll be casually helping you grab something from the top shelf in a grocery store and lean down to say something, with a grin that’s way too innocent. Sir, is this a grocery trip or a personal attack?

Late at night, he’ll play the guitar and softly sing while you’re lying on his lap, and boom—you’re gone to heaven.

After he’s made you lose your mind with those sinful kisses, Joshua transforms back into the fluffiest boyfriend. He’s wiping the smudges off your lips with his thumb, kissing your forehead. The duality is WHIPLASH, but are you complaining? No.

When he looks at you, it’s not just attraction; it’s pure adoration. And when he holds you close, you’ll realize that being with him feels like coming home every single time.

Joshua’s the kind of boyfriend who makes you believe in love songs again. His actions, his words, his everything—all of it screams, “You’re my world.”

Yeah, Joshua is THAT type of boyfriend, and honestly, you’re done for. Congratulations on never recovering.

[icarusredwings]

Bark like you want it

Pt 1

People were asking how the red collar works and I wanted to put in some tailed wolvie so here ya go.

Poolverinessa (mentions of NightWolves)

Finding home au (+tail au)

NSFW, a lot of pet play, ethical non monogamy (done properly), bratty logan, hand job, collared and leashed Logan, dommy mommy Ness

Being dropped off at the apartment, Logan waves goodbye to his priest friend, yawning a bit as he struggles to unlock the door with his keys. This is until he finds that it was unlocked already.

Coming through the door, he was a bit suprised to see them still awake. It was a little after 2 am and he was sure they'd be asleep by now.

Here, on the couch was Vanessa, her hair messy, only wearing panties and one of Wade's graphic tees. Wade himself had been smoking a cigarette with his arm around her, in nothing but some of Logan's pajama pants. Both of them had been watching some baking reality tv show and talking with various toys and bottles spread out over the coffee table and couch.

"Yeah he does this really cute thing where he-" Wade stops talking, turning to face the door with a big smile. "There's our big boy!! You have fun dicking down that priest?"

Vanessa snickers a little, sitting up to put her drink on a coaster. "Wait you didn't tell me about that."

Wade gasps, looking to her like gossiping with one of his besties, except she was the ultimate bestie. "Oh M Gee! I didn't? Okay so you know that blue guy from the Christmas party?"

She nods, about to get juicy news. "The one that was drunk and sitting on the counter while talking funny?"

"Yes! That's Kurt, he's like a german cat thing-"

Logan tilts his head, blinking with a soft frown of embaressment, scoffing. "He is not. He's got angel blood or.. somethin." He shrugs, putting his bag down and begining to unpack, putting his clothes in the laundry as he listened.

"Okay what ever, same thing, angel cat thing. Well he's a priest."

Vanessa gasps. "Loooaaggiee!"

"A Catholic one!!" Wade points out, putting his finger up in a 'matter of fact'ly type way.

"And Logan fucks him like once every two full moons or some spiritual ritual thing." He waves a hand, pulling her closer to his chest.

"Spiritual pussy cat."

"Hey, How I choose to cleanse my soul by confession is my choice and no ones buisness but god and I's." Logan smirks playfully.

Wade giggles. "Did Father Wagner tell you to say that?"

But he didn't awnser, just blushing more, storming off into the bathroom to shower.

"Oh, he so did." Vanessa smirks, Wade nodding in agreement. "A thousand percent."

Once Logan returns from the bathroom, Wade and Vanessa were still on the couch, except they were staring at him with a devlish look. Logan blinks, swallowing before crossing his bare chest with his hand as if trying to ward off their evilness. To make things worse, he had only put on his grey sweats, his tail hanging out the back as the pants dipped down to his hips. He had been planning on going to bed... guess not anymore.

"Oh boy...what do you two want?"

They glance at each other, smiles widdening. "Weeeeelllll.. we were hoping.." Vanessa started, shifting to scoot over to the otherside of the couch.

"You have any energy in the tank to play with us?" It's a simple question really. Wade even pats the seat between them, making it more clear what they wanted.

"It's okay if not." V states.

"Yeah, we know you're old and can't hang with us cool young people." Wade mutters, looking at his nails all bitchy.

Logan gives a playful scowl, though the face changed to thinking when the playfulness in his eyes lit up, telling Logan that he was excited just from the single glare alone. His tail began to wag, just the smallest of wiggles.

"That depends what you had in mind." He states, leaning against the hallway wall.

"We were thinkin maybe you could wear your red collar?" Vanessa asks.

"Yeah? And what else?"

"Fuck us? Duh." Wade mutters, now holding his arms out, doing grabby hands.

"Now come're and give me kisses! The contract says I get them when ever I want!"

Logan scoffs, shaking his head softly with a grin. Ah yes. The contract. Aka their marriage certificate tht hung proudly in a cracked frame above the wall of Polaroids that Wade took of all their friends and them, their family and of themselves. The ones with Vanessa were still up there too, many of Morph, Kurt, Laura, Puppins, Al, and several of parties over the years. Ones of their wedding surrounded the certificate, reminding them daily about how loved each of them were.

"I don't knoowwww. Are you gonna give a dog a bone or is this a good doggy, no bone situation?" Logan asks, finally coming to sit between them, leaning over to let Wade hold his cheeks, kissing him lovingly. I mean, this is his husband afterall.

"You want a metaphotical bone or?" Wade asks, pulling away with a happy smirk. "Mmh. You taste like wine."

"The older the better." V interjects, Making Wade laugh. "You know, I say that all the time and constantly he tells me-"

"I'm not fine wine, I'm barrel whiskey."

"Yeah that."

Logan thinks for a moment. "You know.. I wouldn't mind a steak."

"D'awww my big boy wants a steak? How big?"

He squeezes himself under his arm, laying on his chest, hand going down his abdomen to rub his stomach.

Vanessa soon follows suit, but instead scratched his beard and his chin. "You gotta be a good boy though, Lolo. Or no steak for youu." She teases.

Laying his head back, his arms wrapped around the both of them, already feeling himself slip into that headspace. Man.. he might not have the need for a refractory period but attacking him with such soft kisses and sweet touches when he just came home from something similar was plan cruel.

If he wished to complain, he'd say things like "I'm too old for this" and "I just got my soul washed of its sins and here you are."

But Logan didn't complain. He couldn't, really. It was a nice suprised to return too, the warm hands touching him in a way that made his heart burst with fire and affection.

Wade's hand slips inside of his sweats, palming his hand at the already reoccuring bulge only to smirk. "No undies? Oh you nasty dog you."

His grip tightens around them both, trying to focus on his breathing while Vanessa tries to mark up and down his jaw and neck, holding him so delicately between her fingers.

"Shit... go get my collar." He mumbles, feeling Wade pull away. "Yaaayy!! Okay!-Oh. And V, That's my husband. Hands above the belt miss ma'am. I'm watching you." It may have seemed like a warning but the wink he gave her made Logan nervous and blushy. He had been stuck in the middle of their own sick little games.

"You aint gotta worry about little ol me." She coes, batting her lashes, but the moment Wade wallks away, she runs her hand down to his thigh, sitting up on her knees with a grin.

"Can I touch you?" It's a soft ask, a whisper into his ear with a look that makes him laugh, snorting a bit. "Sure."

Ridiculous. Not even seconds. God they would be the death of him.

"Ssooo, How'd it go?" She asks, putting a hand on his shoulder, the other dipping under the metaphotical belt, giving a little squeeze.

"Eh.. it was f-Fine."

"Just fine?" She tsked.

"I-i meant great. Yeah.. great."

"Tell me about it." She says, leaning her chin on his shoulder, litsening to each breath as if it would be his last.

Logan swallows. "I.. it was fun."

"Oh? Was it now?"

"Mmmhm" It's a low whine of agreement, looking at the hall waiting for Wade to return with his collar.

"Use your words, Logan." She whispers into his ear, liking the little moments in which he could embaress him all she pleased in such a serious tone. She wanted him to tell him all the little details that he enjoyed so much, why he came home at 2 am, and if this Kurt charater had taken proper care of him.

"Did he kiss you? Yeah? How much? Ooh that's quite a bit. Did he hold you?"

The quiet, flustard mutters of agreement and small one word awnsers was all he had to give her at the moment as her acrylics dragged up his tip.

"Yes." He spits out, Like he would forget how to speak entirely if he didn't.

"Oh? Good. Did he feed you your dog chow? Hm? Were you a good boy for him?" The more she asks, the more he vividly remembers, blushing deeply as he tries not to buck into her hand.

Vanessa was one of those people that could fold him so quickly, he understood perfectly why Wade loved her so much. It was easy to become intoxicated by the teasing, her soft voice and how well she handled you. It was never the same, a different treatment for different people. She would pet Logan for hours if he let her, slowly stroking and forcing him to cough up words until he snapped.

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"H-he fed me." He mutters, putting his head back as Vanessa squeezed again, getting him ready to play. They would do this. Take turns getting him all hot and hard. And it's not like he minded, but Ness did squeeze a bit hard at times.. he kinda liked it. God he was a fucking weirdo.

She let him catch his breath, humming innocently as she waited for him to talk. "He-.. w-We had wine and... Oh, god.."

"Annnd?" She kisses his cheek, a bittersweet apology.

"And veggie burgers...h-he can't eat meat on fridays.."

"That's ironic." She giggles, making him blush more. "Shut up.. that's what Wade says.."

"Mmmh. What else?"

"Cheese.. and bread. He's so weird about fuckin bread."

He had just got done playing with a Catholic Priest and now here he was, getting teased by his husband's fiance. What a weird world this was.

But Logan would gnaw off his own leg then go back to his universe. Where everyone hated him and he hadn't got any tail in a little over a decade. Even then, it was a prostitute. Made him pay for the bed sheets too. Didn't even let him stay the night. It felt terrible.

Funny how things went, huh? Now here, a retired prostitute and possible one of the most legendary strippers of all time was on his smelly and broken pull out couch, scratching his foreskin and trying to pop his balls. Literally. If she was any rougher he'd have to shove her away, but it was perfect. Everything she could possibly do to him was hand crafted and fit to his liking.

The club had no idea what they lost when Vanessa quit and got that desk job instead. They were so proud of her. Insanely proud. Wade was proud of her for just existing though at this point, always so excited to see her, bringing her flowers and non stop talking about how nice her apartment was and joking about how he might ditch this place and move in with her, only for V to tell him that he'd wreck the place within a week. (This, of course was probably true)

Giggling, she smiles. "Yeah? I heard Germans are pretty serious about their bread."

"They are! He won't let me even eat bread if theres not grains in it and shit."

"Oh yeah? How's he on sausage?" She coes, hand wrapping around to pump a few times before pulling away, licking her fingers. This was how their little games went. The moment he bucked, she'd stop. Real bitch of a game, that's for sure..

A soft grunt comes from him as he shakes his head, shifting to spread his legs a bit more.

"You.. are nasty."

"Says the one who eats an ass full of cancer." She purrs, giving him another kiss. "Im glad he makes you happy, Logan."

Closing his eyes for the quick smooch, he hums, hearing the click of their bedroom door. "Wade would kill him if not."

Vanessa's eyes do a thing that said 'Yeahhh he does that' as if she herself has had the experience of being gifted pictures of a dead ex or a toxic client who wouldn't stop harrassing her.

Wade was just about as sweet as a paring knife. At first you think he can't do much damage, bringing you freshly, juicy cut figs and peaches, pears. Obviously. But he could just as quickly stab you in the juggular and lick the knife clean of your blood while you gush out into the floor and the last thing you see as your vision blurs is him giggling hysterically and a flash of a throw away camrea.

Just as Wade came back in he grins. "Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just happy to see me, honey?"

"Hm, let me check." He says, sarcastically pulling the elastic band up, looking at it then turned to Ness. "Definitely not a banana." She tells him.

"Ooh let me see!" Rushing oved he plops down on the couch next to him, looking too. "I'm no doctor but.. thats definitely not a banana."

The three laugh and giggle as Logan tilts his head up, letting Wade clip the red kink collar onto him. "There."

"Bad dog?" Vanessa asks, reading the tag of the collar. "Ooh, You're not a bad dog, are you?"

"Oh, yes he is. He has a humping problem." Wade says, shifting to turn his face towards him, kissing him deeply after spitting on his hand, slipping it back to where it already once was. Slowly, he pulls every few moments, working up the speed as things drawn on. He wanted him ready. Logan was already hard as a rock but he wanted to give him a bit of a tease too.

It was only fair.

Groaning into his mouth, his arms go back around them both, making a whine when Vanessa pulls his D ring away, to face her instead, her hand rubbing over his chest a way she knew drove him crazy. "No, he's not. He's a good boy. Ain'tcha, puppy? You want mommy to fuck you senseless? Hm?" She pulls away inbetween kisses to whisper such things, lips hovering as she teases him further, groping his chest some.

Whimpering, Logan's breath hitches, trying hard not to buck into his husband's hand, but can't hold much longer. His tail, stuffed into the cushion of the couch wiggles on its own when Wade jerks his collar back the other way, stealing him mid kiss. It makes Ness give him a playful glare, only to smirk in competition. She enjoyed it greatly. Wade knew this.

"You're a bad boy, aren't you? Just a stupid mutt, huh? Ooh, but it's not your fault, Noo you're just a puppy huh? You wanna be a good boy but you can't. It's not your fault you're feral, oh no its not. Some meanie men made you this way, didn't they? Made you wanna be bad and bite, huh?" Half way through, he had switched to baby talk, a gushy, mushy sound of tone that made Logan's tail wag more, gritting his teeth, nodding or shaking his head to corespond with what ever he was saying.

Fuck- he couldn't do this. He couldn't hold on.

Bucking his hips, Logan gasps, hands trying to come to hold Wade's hand here, to fuck into it like a toy, but V jerks his collar back towards her.

"Ah ah! Leave it!" She says, harsh and quick like she would if Puppins was trying to eat one of Wade's non toxic body safe pink dildos.

And of course he listens. How could he not? The sharp tone and her eyes, cat eyes that he should be terrified of, but he's not. Oh they're so gorgeous. So dangerous. V could tell him to get off the couch and go drink out of puppins water bowl and he probably would. As long as he got his bone.

His tail stops wagging behind him as he lets go of Wade's hand.

"Off. No bad dogs on the couch!" She scolds him. Within a second he's on his floor, hands and knees as he sits here, the outline of his hardness more hidden but clearly more worked up.

"You too. Off."

Without a question, Wade is not on the floor too, wiggling with excitment. Coming to put his hands up on the couch, he pants for her in a way that even embaresses Logan. It's hot. Really, it is but Wade was always too quick to humiliate himself for her.

Her hand comes to his head, petting him. "Good boy. Lay down." And so he does, laying down and even began to nudge at her feet. Vanessa smirks a bit. "Roll over."

Again, not even a second later he was on his back, hands up and knees bent to where his feet touched the floor.

"Good booyy~" she coes, letting her foot cassually rub against his stomach and then lower, grazing at the lump in his fluffy flannel pj pants.

Logan watches as this all happens, perhaps in just seconds. He's unsure. What he is sure about though is how embaressed he was for his husband, hearing him groan at the socked touches. He blinks a bit, looking up to Vanessa with a type of fear in her eyes that only lights a fire in her.

Tossing him a couch pillow, she smiles, innocent but all teeth, her eyes dark with sadistic pleasure. "Logan. Be a good boy. Hump it."

Swallowing, he looks at the pillow and then to her. "W-what?"

"I said, Fuck that pillow. Show mommy what you're gonna do to her."

"Oh, Ness, that's just cruel." The dog on his back says, only to be kicked lightly.

"Quiet! Dog's don't talk."

Staring at the pillow, Logan whines at her, his face beat red as he slowly pulls the pillow close, putting it in position before glancing up at her to see if this is what she wanted.

"Good boooy." Its a sing songy voice that makes him give her a guilty smile, tail wiggling from the praise. "Now fuck it. Just like how you would, Wade. Come on. Show mommy whatna good boy you are and maybe ill let you have some ass." She says, pulling Wade up by his own collar, turning him around, tugging down the pants and slapped his ass. Wade yipped a little from both arousal and surprise. This was the fun bit about letting Vanessa take charge. He shut off his brain, letting her do what ever she pleased with him.

Blushing more, Logan is hesitant, eyes flickering from Wade's now wiggly ass to the pillow. Closing his eyes, he tries not to think about it being embaressing, rather as behaving. Being a good boy for her. That seemed to be the agenda for tonight.

Though... He had other plans.

Taking the pillow into his mouth, he shook it, growling and then spit it out, giving a defiant look. One that said 'make me'. One that Ness knew well and was quite fond of. Her brow raised.

"Logan. You will obey me. Now fetch." She points to the pillow across the room, her foot stopping on Wade as he rolls back over, sitting up as he watches the tension build between them, internally squealing. Oooh, this would be fun to watch. Things were about to get good.

Lowering his head to her, He snarls.

"Oh, Don't you dare-"

Deliberately he sits down, hard, not fetching at all. Instead he lays down with a pout, turning his head to ignore her.

"So that's how it's going to be.. Wade. Fetch." She tells him, standing as Wade quickly crawls over, taking the pillow into his mouth and brought it back to Logan. Dropping it next to him, he's quick to try to lick Logan's face, giggling a bit. Blushing, His tail wags, but hes trying to keep his bad dog persona up, sitting up, snapping at him.

Just before he could land a bite on Wade, Vanessa leashes him, jerking him away from Wade, who was honestly a little disappointed. He liked being bit, esspecially when Logan was putting on his "bad boy" front.

Girls didn't take the bad boys home.

But Wade did. Infact he prefered them.

And maybe it was just the wrong girls, cause Vanessa would definitely adopt this doggy. Besides, he needed trained.

Leaning down, face level to him, Logan snarls at her but she dosn't budge.

"You'll learn to behave. Whether you like it or not. Cause if theres one thing I know, You can't break this bitch. Now sit."

[savi-our]

Mistletoe with the UT Skelebros (x Reader)

(Heya! I sorta missed all the X-mas hype by a few days but I wanted to post some fluff whilst we're still in that sweet sweet holiday limbo. Hope you guys enjoy! I might do the other skeletons too if requested :)

Sans

It had all been going smoothly up till now. I mean, as smoothly as having a bunch of alternate skeletons under a single roof on Gyftmas eve could go he supposed. 

Nothing set on fire - yet, nothing broken beyond repair - yet, no physical fights…. yet. Albeit he could see some of the more rowdier skeletons already losing their filter due to the excessive amounts of alcohol present, he knew would have to step in sooner or later to break up any potential arguments soon…

Man he was tired, hosting an event this big by request of his brother was taking a toll on his already exhausted state of mind. His one and only conciliation? You.

You had been flitting about the party, mingling and exchanging gifts as you went, trying to keep everyone safe and happy and Sans couldn't help but grin at the sight of you. It reminded him of why he had fallen so quickly and so hard in the first place.

You were a breath of fresh air, a peaceful moment in the ever present chaos of his life, could you really blame him for wanting more? More of you, more of those shared moments he had been lucky enough to steal with you?

He was getting ahead of himself, maybe it was the drinks talking. He should check the dining room again and see whether or not everyone was still playing nice there.

Just as he was about to do just that, the call of your voice stopped him in his tracks, he turned, noticing the small box in your hands and the slight flush of your cheeks.

“heh, what's up kid?”

Just as you were about to respond, your gaze had caught something, you had frozen in place, eyes widening at something… above him?

Mistletoe.

Oh man

He froze as well, already making up several reasons in his head why he should just play it off and go on his merry way before he did something to ruin his friendship with you before actually looking back down at you.

Man you were a sight for sore eyes.

…Could he maybe indulge? Just this once? Just this once he could forget about everything and just… enjoy the moment.

The abashed smile on your face told him you probably wouldn't mind and he wondered if he was really that lucky?

He leaned in, inexplicably drawn towards your warmth, and you did the same. He hesitated one last moment, but then he realized he probably wouldn't be able to live with himself if he chickened out now, and that had sealed the deal.

It was a small but soft peck on your lips, his eyes lidded as he watched your reaction, the blush on your face making his soul thrum. The loud cheers around the room seemed to have snapped you out of the moment and you flustered at being seen by so many, but he didn't, he couldn't, how in the world could he when all he could see was you?

Before you could run away in your embarrassment he leaned in again, almost too quick to catch, and he stole another kiss from your lips,- the feeling of the soft gasp of surprise coming from you and fanning over his teeth making his head spin and making him quickly take his leave. He hoped you would forgive him, he couldn't help himself, not with how brightly you looked at him with the holiday lights all around you.

Papyrus

Papyrus hummed in contentment, his bright eyes flying over the brightly decorated room in satisfaction as he placed an empty box down on the floor. His hands rested on his hips as he looked over his work.

It was perfect, he'd make sure to triple and quadruple check. A vision of Gyftmas cheer, holiday lights, candy canes, stockings and thistles neatly organized and placed around the room.

He wanted it to be perfect, no, it had to be! You were joining them this year after all, and Papyrus couldn't bear the thought of everything being less than superb.

He wondered if your expression would light up just like the gyftmas lights, if you would turn to him with that perfect smile on your lips and compliment him with that stunning look in your eye. The thought made his cheeks warm.

He was excited, so excited to spend the evening with you, he had big plans after all. 

His eyes turned suspicious, glancing this way and that for any sign of the others before quickly making his way through a practiced and mentally rehearsed route through the house.

Living room entryway? Check, Kitchen door? Check, Hallway exit? Check, Back door? Check.

…Hmm, maybe he should add some more, just to be safe.

He returned to the inconspicuous box laid neatly out of sight in the corner of the hallway and opened it, grabbing a few branches of the spindly green plant that he had taken the time to wrap in neat little red bows.

He had found the tradition a bit odd at first he admitted, but then he saw how delightfully charming it was in one of Mettaton's FULL VOLUME GYFTMAS SPECIALS, and he thought it had been a perfect chance to finally confess his feelings to you. It's been rather recent that his feelings of best friendship had morphed into something… more, something soft and exciting, something that made his soul thrum vividly every time he laid his eyes on you.

He had wondered if he was sick at first, it wouldn't be surprising considering the weather they'd been having, but after several hours of arduous researching online for the supposed cause he had come to a realization. He had looked through his bookshelf then, dusting off his older volume DATING MANUAL with a warbly grin.

He wanted to confess, wanted to see the look in your eyes when he did, he wondered how you'd respond, the thought made him a bit nervous. It had to be perfect.

As he placed the mistletoe branch on one of the other entryways in the house- deftly balancing on the small stepladder he had kept for purely such an occasion, he hadn't noticed the padded footsteps behind him.

It was all so sudden, a quick and cheery greeting, a startled yelp, a clattering thump, a rushed reflex to grab you and break your fall.

Papyrus stared down at you, his hands protective around you as both of you stared at each other in a moment of stupefied silence.

He snapped himself out of it, already rushing to apologize, to check you for injuries, to make sure you were safe, oh stars, he hadn't hurt you in the fall did he?

You started laughing and the sound knocked him out of his anxiety, it was such a pretty sound, he almost lost his train of thought. He stared at you once again, still leaning over you on the floor as you fell into a fit of giggles and he couldn't help but sigh dreamily. You were perfect.

It was then your eyes had turned to something over his shoulder, briefly widening and then turning towards him, a soft flush in your cheeks. He wondered what you were looking at, and just as he was about to turn, the warm touch of your hands on the sides of his skull made him freeze in place.

He couldn't resist it, the pull of your arms softly bringing your lips to his teeth, gaze soft and warm, the feeling made his spine prickle.

He had leaned in, enchanted by the feeling, enchanted by the sight of your warm affection, the feeling of your lips, the warmth of your slightly shaky breath.

It was perfect, even if his plan had failed even before it could begin,- but then how could it not be, when you were the one he had fallen for. Quite literally in fact.

[anonymouse9172]

He notices them following him around. Part 1. (Yandere! Poly! Twisted Wonderland x Male Reader)

Malleus and Leona: It was one day later in the cafeteria that M/n saw them again. They were together and they kept glancing at M/n and then whispering to each other. It made M/n uncomfortable and wonder if he did something wrong. After 5 minutes of this he decided to take his lunch and leave the cafeteria to go eat with his brother in solitude.

A couple hours later he saw them again starring at him. He was on a walk in the gardens and they definitely following him around. He'd made 5 turns in less then three minutes and they still were behind him. He did not know what to do with the lion beast man and the dragon far following him around.

He decided to go back to Scarabia where they could not follow him finally. While back Scarabia he managed to convince himself he was just going crazy and they were not actually following him. He was disillusioned from that when he left Scarabia for classes though. They were waiting outside his homeroom and then later all of his other classes.

He tried talking to his teachers and brother about it. However they only rolled their eyes and told him it was just Malleus Draconia and Leona Kingscholar, two of the 7 dorm wardens at NRC, and they probably just wanted to talk to him about something due to being new and he should probably just talk to them. M/n felt in his bones though that they were wrong about that and he should not approach either of them ever again.

In the end though he was not given a choice though as he found Leona and Malleus waiting outside the bathroom for him after lunch. No one else was around and M/n immediately felt the urge to flee from them. He pushed the idea away though. "May I help you both?", he says.

The Lion beast man, Leona, snorts. "Sure, herbivore. You can help us by doing what we want.", says Leona. M/n felt his chest tighten in fear.

"What do you want?", says M/n. Leona smirks and Malleus, the dragon fae, smiles. "We want you to go on a date with us.", says Malleus. Terror seizes M/n. He doesn't see any route to escape so he nods. "Perfect. We will pick up from Scarabia Friday at 6 pm, child of man.", says Malleus. Finally the Lion and Dragon walk away from the human.

Kalim and Jamil: It took M/n nearly an entire month to realize he was being followed by Kalim and Jamil. They be waiting outside his room when he woke up and walk him back to his room at night too. His classes were all the same as theirs too. They hardly ever were far from him. Even if he went to bathroom it seemed that one of them followed him.

At first he brushed all of this off as coincidence. It wasn't until one brave soul, a student from Scarabia, actually spoke to him and told him it was kind of creepy how they followed him. Jamil and Kalim quickly scared off the other student from but the seed was already planted in M/n's mind and he suddenly couldn't have unnoticed their weird behavior even if he wanted to do so.

M/n started going out of his way to try and avoid them as much as possible but nothing worked. Kalim and Jamil were stuck to him like glue and scaring off anyone who dared talk to him, even teachers. M/n tried writing home to his parents to ask for help but letters mysteriously disappeared while texts and emails refused to send.

M/n was utterly terrified to leave his room after a week. Then he woke up to them both in his room standing above him. He tensed but managed to squeak out, "He-hey, guys. Can I help you with something?"

Kalim grinned broadly while Jamil narrowed his eyes at M/n. "Hey, man. We just wanted to ask you to go on a date with us.", says Kalim cheerfully but M/n could tell it was a demand rather then an ask. He nodded out of fear of the consequences.

Jamil smiled. "Perfect. We'll be here Friday at 6 pm.", he says. Then Jamil and Kalim left while Kalim chatted away about what they should do with M/n Friday.

[auzlon]

Status update

In the last few days I've had no sleep. lets go over the key points - in order.

SIGNED AN NDA

Kicked out of bar

made out with a guy

Yelled on the street at 2am at a guy

got sent $200 for texting an older guy

managed have no sex.

Some how I feel both progressed and regressed. I was reminded of my nature that he so sot to remove with ultimatly no avail. I think I said it once 'you can take the girl out of the city, but you can't take the city of the girl'.

In a younger version I would text a random guy and do the thing. Have an orgasm (If i was lucky) then repeat. This time with a little maturity. AND FINALY fucken self value. I won't throw myself at just anyone because I'm horny. I've given it up too much for too little and only lost friends in the process. I don't know what I was trying to find validation or thrill.

But I don't want love, Either. I'll reserve my love for two individuals.

Him, the imaginary one he exist only the boundlessness of my mind and creation. He - this person, can more then he, she, they? this person is me. They inhibit all of me, my fictious perfection exist in them.

And --him, the soul mate. The only one person who I've met physically who is more me than I am myself. I love him, in a away that is, complicated. because its survived through time and lovers- its been my beacon in the time when the love of my life is not enough. And somehow its my beacon now. He's mine. even with her. He's mine, but not like he is to her. Our love, exist only in the thought, nothing we can touch or see. It belongs only to a space we've agreed never to talk about because he is with her. My family makes comments about him, he's hung in the air of each failed relationship.

I enter the new year with a new version of me, she smokes cigarettes, drinks sparkling water to suppresses the alcohol craving, bought a new wardrobe, takes her son to the library, and I got bangs.

self reflections and revelations.

25 years old - 2025

tell me about You ??? have you changed this year

[theflagscene]

My Top 10 Fave QL Characters of 2024 🤩

More end of the years lists from me, because clearly I have nothing to do for the rest of the week... I wish I was joking. Much like my pervious lists, my only rule for this is that at least some of the series needed to air this year. It can have started in 2023 or will be ending in 2025, as long as some—or all—of the series aired this year, then it's fair game.

1 ) God - Monster Next Door

What can I say about God that hasn't already been screamed from the rooftops by literally everyone who watched the series? He was aptly nicknamed, because this gentle giant was a gift from heaven. The greenest green flag, even when mad or upset, he was still as green as a damn emerald! The sweetest golden retriever character to have graced my screen this year, I will always love this character and this series, it's become a comfort watch for me, that's for sure.

2 ) Yai - The Sign

There aren't enough sweet himbos in QLs imo, typically whilst cute but dumb, they're also mean or bigoted or just not very likable. Yai broke all of those stereotypes, he was cutest himbo around, a perfect brother, friend, bro and husband. I knew I would adore him from the very first episode and I was not wrong, he did not disappoint. Every scene Yai was in wasn't enough, I wanted so much more of Yai (and his scary beautiful wife, Sand).

3 ) Joker - Jack & Joker: U Steal My Heart

Joker and his emotional support idiots might have fumbled the ball at damn near every turn, but he was absolutely adorable whilst doing it. I think it's physically impossible for me to dislike a character War plays, so me adoring Joke was not a surprise to me. A master thief who really wasn't that great at not getting caught, a hopeless romantic, mama bear and perfect grandson-in-law? What more could I have asked for?... Possibly better fake tattoos, but we can't have it all lol.

4 ) Jeff - Pit Babe

I admit with no shame whatsoever that I found Jeff to be one of the most interesting characters on the show. His powers were the ones with the farthest reaching consequences and the most difficult to live with, he was tragic in all the ways I love a character to be tragic. I really wished I could've watched a version of the series from his pov, because I feel like I would’ve fast forwarded way less lol!

5 ) Tae Myungha - Love For Love's Sake

His depressive aura bewitched me body and soul, what can I say? The fact that he tried so hard to make everyone around him feel loved, wanted and important whilst he spent his entire life feeling none of that just broke my damn heart. He was the perfectly example of: the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy because they know what it's like to feel absolutely worthless and they don't want anybody to feel like that.

6 ) JJ - This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans

Poor JJ has an idiot for a bestie and a douchebag (affection) for a love interest, this dude did not have an easy time of it lol. His forever exasperated resting bitch face and constant annoyance at literally everything that came out of both Plawan and Methas's mouths made me laugh so much, JJ had absolutely no time for any of their shit and yet he was constantly dealing with their shit. The poor guy needed a vacation away from the people in his life even though he loved them, which I totally understand lol!

7 ) Aylin - 23.5

While this wasn't my favourite series, Aylin was definitely one of my favourite characters. Her autistic coded self just spoke to me, I too dislike humans to a level that I would easily take the first alien spaceship off the planet lol. Aylin was so sweet and funny, I loved the way she spoke and her lil hats! I just wanted to squish her!

8 ) Fadel - The Heart Killers

Was I expecting to go into this series loving Fadel? No. Should I have? Absolutely. I have always loved the shrew characters when it came to adaptations of The Taming of the Shrew, which is the point of the character so ya know, duh! Lol. Any series with FirstKhao in it I always assume one of them will end up being my fave because well, it's them! But Fadel is the realest of the real when it comes to the slog of daily life, his routines, his annoyance with the general population, his need to remind himself that killing people whilst working in customer service is not worth the clean up nor the prison time. Sure, he's an assassin on the weekends, but hell, who isn't working two jobs in our current economy?

9 ) Rock - Cherry Magic TH

Rock was the perfect sunshine dope of a sidekick and I loved him for it, completely oblivious yet extremely caring at the same time. A man smitten with the idea of a woman who wants to eat fatty foods, will kidnap his Phi for a super secret mission no questions asked and respects a woman's right to say no without becoming an incel about it, he really was a joy to watch. It also helped that Sing played him, because Sing is an adorable ball of sunshine and I luff him.

10 ) Tan - We Are

The first person to get his man, and so easily. It made perfect sense why Fang fell for Tan, his hyperactive sunshine energy was like an instant 'smile' button. He was so genuine with his emotions and interests, he was a simp and made no apologies for it. He loved Fang so completely and unconditionally, he did whatever he needed to make sure that Fang felt safe and cared for. Tan really raised the bar when it came to clingy boyfriends that aren’t cringy, which is a hard thing to do.

[lostintransist]

You’re writing is amazing you’re amazing and just all the love my goodness I can’t get enough 💕

Oh my goodness! Thank you! I know sometimes (I feel at least about myself) that it reads as just a casual thanks! as if you were passing on the street but I need you to know that this is like caught me in the side of the neck with feels and I will gush about you to my spouse and my soul mate (I am supremely lucky they aren't the same person).

Now I don't know if you are a fan of König (or reading Chiseled Heart) but this has been rattling around my brain like those cans people use to tie to the bumpers of cars for people who got married so I want to share becase we are a long way from it showing up in the fic.

*I like to give people words when they stop by. I treat it the same way sevice people come to my house to fix things. "You want a snack? I got snacks."

I've only had one guy take a snack.

I keep offering.

König freezes, hand on the doorknob, as your voice drifts in from the porch’s open window.

“König? I really like him.”

Your words are full of soft meaning that slaps at him; beating against his skin like the hands of the children who would laugh and pinch him. Even when he was small he had been too big.

“What about him though?” It’s your friend, Tori, “We haven’t seen his face and yes he is built but he doesn’t say much.”

“He seems to treat you well. I guess what we are saying is that we are concerned. He is nothing like your usual type and I want to be sure this isn’t a rebound.” That is Amara, Tori’s girlfriend.

His hand is starting to cramp around the round knob. He relaxes his hold; nothing in life was built with him in mind. König knows he should move, leave, make his presence known, something. The deepest parts of him, those bits hidden that would flourish if only a spare drop of love could find its way down, made him stay silent and still. No one else had been in the house when he came in to use the restroom. The openness of the floorplan would alert him to anyone entering the front door. And so, he stayed.

An annoyed huff leaves your mouth as you must shift in your chair, cloth shifting against wood. He can imagine you, arms folded tight as you force your shoulders down.

“He is kind, and not only to me. Mara, I have seen him pay for a stranger’s tank of gas when we stopped once. I hopped out to use the bathroom. There was a line so I happened to glance outside and see him getting hugged by a sobbing man with his hand still pressing something to the machine. The two receipts for gas confirmed what happened. He buys gift cards every time he goes to the grocery store and often turns around and hands them to moms in line behind him.”

You take a deep, shuddering breath before continuing.

“My usual type is pretty. But pretty men only bring pain. König isn’t pretty.”

König had been stabbed several times, your words punched him with the same force. He shifted his weight to move away, deepest soul shriveling further at the imaginings of your harsh words.

“Have you ever had someone become beautiful before your eyes?”

Your friends must nod or respond in some way he can’t see because you go on.

“He is striking. König’s face is my favorite thing to look at because every time I look he has become more beautiful to me. There is a scar here,” you must be pointing somewhere on your face. Lord knows how many scars he has mapping the landscape of his. It is one of the reasons that he wears a mask even now. “That whites out when he smiles big.”

Something unfurls in his chest, a desert plant tasting rain.

Tori again, “But this isn’t a rebound?”

“I don’t see how it can be? He doesn’t know I like him this much. Honestly, I would be happy being his friend. If he got a girlfriend I would sob myself to sleep for a few weeks as I make friends with her,” you sniff and clear your throat.

“Ah, hun,” Amara croons at you, “You’ve got it bad for him.”

The watery laugh you let out trails König as he slips away to the front door and away from the private conversation.

“God, I’ve got it so bad for him.” The tears in your voice water his broken parts.

Divider

[wystericwoes]

❥ He’s your…

❥ Various x reader, NSFW below the cut, implied NSFW

❥ No pronouns used

✧- Pretty boy. -✧

Fuck! He’s just so gorgeous, you say as he unintentionally flashes his long lashes and plump lips.

You may even be a little envious at how naturally even his face is and straight his nose rests. He’s photogenic, he’s stunning, you ask him what his skincare routine is- and more importantly- why isn’t he a male model?

Sometimes you wonder if he’s prettier than you, but that’s okay- because at the end of the day, it’s him who’s underneath you, him who needs you.

❥-Inumaki, Megumi, Choso, Noritoshi, Mahito

✧- Handsome boy. -✧

His strong jaw and cheekbones that you could measure with a damn ruler give him a striking appearance that makes you weak in the knees. You wonder how you ever looked at a man before him.

Angular, precise, defined and toned. This is a man who is a man down to the core. whose strength is your weakness. You’re Superman- and he’s 1000 fucking tons of kryptonite. The kind of guy who’s lifts you over his shoulder in total ease with eyes of admiration and knowing- a knowing that no one can quite handle you the way he can.

❥-Sukuna, Todo, Toji, Nanami,

✧- Sexy boy. -✧

This is the epitome of male attractiveness. What’s the point of modesty when you’re just this damn fine? It’d honestly be a waste if he chose to hide it all.

He’s never had to know what he wants because he can just get it. The kind of guy who’s on the cover of boxer commercials, the kind of guy that the media wants you to want, and Yknow what? There’s no shame in that. He’s fucking sexy and everyone knows it, why hide such a face and body?

A superstar, a famous actor, even a damn pornstar- doesn’t matter. You won’t forget this fine ass specimen of a man.

Men like this are far and few between, true perfection personified in a tall, imposing form of muscular Greek god like flesh.

❥-Gojo, Geto, Hiromi, Atsuya, Hakari

✧- Cute boy. -✧

His natural blush and gentle demeanor compliment your tastes. His big desperate eyes and whines and pleas, you just can’t say no to him. He writhes underneath you and years like no other. He’s just so fucking happy to have you as his, and wants nothing else.

He’s a little whiny and desperate but will never shy away from how much he wants you, he’s got no shame, and his cute face is just so nice underneath you after a long day. So what if he’s stronger than you? You just want him to beg for you, to have no doubt in your mind that he’s utterly devoted to you and worships whatever ground your feet touch.

❥-Yuta, Junpei, Kokichi

❥ BONUS: (exclusively nsfw)

He’s also your:

✦ -Needy boy. -✦

So damn desperate. He pleads and whimpers, just so needy to be inside you. You grind against him and tease him as you watch him writhe pathetically, his body twitches as you trace your fingertips against it. To think one of the strongest men you know is pinned below you, just begging for that sweet release you know you could give him- but no. You just keep denying him.

He’s hard and pathetic, so fucking ready for whatever you wanna give him, but you won’t, will you? Not until you absolutely need it. It’s just too damn fun toying with him. How can you not- when he makes it so easy by being so sensitive?

❥-Inumaki! Yuta, Kokichi! Takuma. Choso.

✦ -Rough boy. -✦

Between labor breaths you need to plea your fleeting case, just slow down a little. But no, he prides himself on breaking limits, pushing the expanses of your body and soul. He needs all of you and he needs it now, he’s a lot stronger than you- and never afraid to remind you.

Manhandling at its finest, he has zero shame in the fact that he can overpower you. He even wants you to be at your strongest, so that way you know he can win no matter what. He gets a ride out of making a fool out of you, whether that’s marks that everyone can see or mindlessly fucking into you so much you can’t remember your own name.

❥ -Sukuna! Toji! Nanami, Atsuya, Hirmomi!

✦ -Cocky boy. -✦

With every strength inside of you, you wish you could wipe that damn smug smirk off his face. But you both know you can’t, totally and utterly helpless.

He may put you in a mating press, just to get a ride out of you. Or maybe he’ll push your face against the glass window of his house so everyone can see him fucking you.

He’s an absolute slut when it comes to watching you get fucked silly, and positions where he can get as deep as possible. He just eggs you on and on… you wonder if it’ll ever end. He’ll coo in your ear while you’re too fucked out to even think. So mean…

❥- Gojo! Shiu, Naoya, Geto

[izzyspussy]

like. angel is submissive and breedable because he's trying soooo hard to be Good but he has absolutely no fucking clue how because he never actually bothered to like. develop a personality, form opinions, build an ethical framework, etc. all he's got to go on is this or that makes him feel icky inside, which is completely inactionable, and so he just ends up being obedient and trusting that he surely deserves however the Good Pretty Human Girl Hero treats him. god's perfect conventionally handsome doormat.

spike is submissive and breedable because he's a bottom and he wants to get roughed up and held down and bossed around.

[wardingshout]

Viridian trainers for day 5 of spesilverweek! they are my most beloved but Lance is a cursed character who is impossible to draw or portray in any way to me