#hope the injury dont get ugly

[keepscrollinghun]

[rosenclaws]

obsessed with your ex || Worst!Logan Howlett smut

summary: In his world you were his wife and he loved you and then you died. In this world you're his girlfriend and he loves you. At least you think he does. Still you can't help the voice in the back of your head telling you that you're nothing but a sad replacement.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI!! 18+ ONLY. insecure + jealous!reader, a very very toxic mindset, the reader's mind is very mean to her, reader is a mutant that can make objects disappear, angst, happy ending, rough sex, riding, french kissing, oral (f!receiving), a slight breakdown, soft sex, missionary, Logan is kinda a softie, cockwarming, fingering.

wc: 2.5k

a/n: Okay so it's here!! I need to make this clear that the readers mindset is NOT healthy and that relationships need good communication. That being said here's my fic idea that I've been thinking about for a bit. I love Olivia Rodrigo sm (I even saw her in concert!!) and this song was just begging to be written into a fic. Anyways I really hope you like it and that it's not too insane lmao. Also i made the graphic but i kinda hate it but i dont wanna change it so here we are I know it's ugly but its FINE

How long have you been here? Staring. Observing every little thing about you. Your nose, your eyes, your lips, your hair, your chin. The way your arms fall by your sides. Every. Little. Detail.

Did she have the same colored eyes? Did she talk like you? Was she smart? Was she powerful? Did he look at her the same way? Did he fuck her like he fucks you?

You clench your fists as you stare angrily at the mirror. He loves you. He says he loves you and yet it feels like you can never compare to her. She was the love of his life. She was an X-Men. She died. She was you. You're his dead fucking wife in his universe while you were nothing to the Logan in this one. 

He looked at you like a kicked puppy that first day you met. A lost little pet that had been searching for its owner. Dragged through hell and back just to get to you. It was easy to fall for him. Handsome, a little rough around the edges. You hadn’t even been dating for that long but it didn’t matter right? He worshiped you. He loved you. He promised he loved you.

But sometimes in the back of your head you wonder if when he's kissing you, does he imagine her? Does he close his eyes while he's pounding into you and imagine it's her? How could you ever compete? She was perfect, she was kind, she was everything to him. Spiraling deeper and deeper into a whirlpool of doubt and envy. There's a heavy pounding on the door but you choose to ignore it. Too wrapped up in your twisted mind to care. 

"Sweetheart, let me in." Logan's gruff voice was slightly muffled by the door. 

You clench your jaw as you finally tear your eyes away from the mirror. You slam open the door taking Logan by surprise. His eyes scan yours for injury, a worried look in his face as he steps into the bathroom. 

"I got worried, you were in here a long time." His arms wrap around your waist. 

He's looking at you with pity. At least that's what your brain tells you. Was he worried that you were hurt because he loves you or because he was thinking of her death again? You know he still dreams of her. He can hide it when he's awake but the nightmares don't lie. It hurts so bad. Love me. Love me. You're jealous you know. She's dead, she's gone. So why can't he love you. You push him off and storm out the bathroom. Nothing makes sense anymore in your head. 

"What the fuck?" Logan follows you and you feel yourself tensing up. 

It's a miracle your powers haven't started to go haywire yet. So many different emotions swirl around in your head until it mixes together to form one single feeling.

Need.

You grab Logan's shirt and pull him into you. Smashing your lips onto his with a hunger that you've never felt before. Logan hisses as you bite his bottom lip harshly but you don't give him time to say anything as you slip your tongue into his mouth. He groans as he starts to take some control back. Hands slipping up your shirt and ripping to shreds with ease.

You pull back from his lips, chest heaving for air as you paw at his shirt. Silently demanding he take it off which he happily does. Your lips are back onto his in an instant. He slowly walks you back until you fall onto the bed. You fall onto the bed and lick your lips. The bugle in his pants is evident as you flick your hand and the belt disappears. 

"I liked that belt." You pay no mind to his comment as you unbutton his jeans and pull them down, leaving him in his boxers. 

"Easy there sweetheart," Logan pushes you back gently and crawls on top of you. Logan kisses down your chest, teasing each nipple with his tongue. 

"Let me take my time." He purrs.

His hands touch and squeeze your breasts roughly making you whine. You watch his arms move, god he's so hot. He's close to making you forget. He kisses down, down, all the way down. He sneaks out the tip of his claws to pop open the button of your pants and he yanks them down until they're all the way off.

"There she is, my perfect girl." His girl. That's right your his girl. No one else's.

Logan pulls your panties to the side as he situates himself between your legs. He stuffs his face without shame, licking hungrily and practically moaning at the taste. You arch your back as Logan devours you. Watching his back muscles move are mesmerizing. He's yours. He loves you. He promises he does.

You can't stop the thoughts that begin to invade you. Overwhelmed by pleasure from Logan and pain from the horrible ideas that pop into your head. Did he do this with her too? Did he worship her? Do you taste like her? Is that why he can't get enough? 

"Fuck!" You hiss as you sit up and tell Logan to stop. He does immediately, wondering what the hell is going on. 

"Can't fucking wait." You scratch down his chest with your nails. He groans and tries to crawl on top of you but you shake your head. 

"I'm going to ride you until you can't come anymore." You growl.

You bite his shoulder harshly making him hiss. It heals right up much to your dismay. How badly you wish you could mark him. You make his boxers disappear but before he can make a smart comment you sink down on him all the way. You whimper as you start to bounce on his cock. Loving how much he fills you.

You need to be fucked stupid. You're desperate for Logan to fuck every bad thought out of your head. To promise that he loves you so that you can believe him. You want to believe him. Please, you have to believe him. 

"Sweetheart." Logan's breath is labored as you relentlessly fuck yourself on his cock. You feel so damn good but fuck he can tell something is on your mind. 

"What do you need, let me help you." He sits up on his hands, placing one on your back as he tries to get you to slow down. His words make you want to scream. What do you need? You look at him and the only thing your rotten brain can tell you is that he is thinking of her. 

"I need you to fucking love me!" You yell.

The dam of built up feelings breaks down as tears pour out of your eyes. Ugly, horrible sobs that make your body shake. Logan watches with horror in his eyes as he stills your hips, using his strength to lift you off of him as you continue to cry. 

"I do love you." He says softly but you shake your head. 

"No!" You shout. You pound your fist against Logan's chest over and over again but he barely moves. 

"You love her! I know you do." Logan's heart breaks at the sound of your sobs. 

"I'm not your dead fucking wife Logan!" You should regret the words coming out of your mouth but you can't stop them. 

"You look at me and you see her. Like I'm just some fucking placeholder!" You let out an anguished scream as Logan captures your wrists in his hands. You know the stories. She was a hero, she was perfect in every single way. 

"How can I compete with, with her?" You say completely defeated.

Your head falls against his chest. There's a sense of relief that washes over you. Thoughts that have plagued you for months are finally out in the open. Yet the fear of what comes next overtakes any other feeling.

"Look at me." Logan tilts your head up but you push his hand away. 

"Sweetheart." He sighs and lets go of your face.

Logan's never been good at this. Talking. Being vulnerable. Then he lost everything and he hardened even more and he just. This was a new chance at life and even though it's hard he can't lose it all again. 

"I know you're not her. Of course I do." Logan presses his forehead against yours, trying to get you to look at him. 

"You loved her..." You croak out. 

"I did love her. She was my wife. But I love you too. In a different way." He's a different man. Having gone through tremendous loss. It shaped him into who he is now. 

"You're different people. Your powers act differently, you talk differently, you feel different. You are not a replacement." He says firmly. 

When you finally look at him he feels this horrible pit in his stomach. He wipes away your tears but doesn't make any other move. It's not the right time.

"Would you have even given me a second thought? If I didn't look like her?" You ask, that question has haunted you for a while now but you never asked, too afraid of the answer. Logan is silent, unsure of how to answer. 

"When I first saw you it was like a punch in the face." He starts. "For a moment I was 20 years in the past. Then I snapped out of it. You look like her, yes but you’re not her.” He gently traces a small scar on your jaw that you got when you were a child. 

“I’m not the same as your Logan right? He was a leader, a hero and I was an angry drunk murderer.” 

“I’m not gonna start listing all your fucking differences sweetheart, but I swear on my life that I love you for you.” He pulls you into a tight hug as you start to cry again. You cling onto him as tight as you can. The bad thoughts don’t just stop, even if you want them to but Logans whispering sweet words in your ear. Pushing out every bad thought for now.

“Logan,” You take a deep breath, letting Logan invade all your senses. Tobacco and whiskey. 

“I need you.” He’s hesitant, not sure if it’s the right time.

“Please, I just need you.”

“Okay sweetheart, you have me.” He slowly rolls you over and lays you on your back.

He captures your lips into a kiss. His hips rolling slowly making you moan softly. His lips drift from your lips to the corner of your mouth to your cheek, trailing down. Each one so gentle, so full of love.

“You have this spot, righttt here.” Logan nibbles on your neck and you gasp when bites right at this spot that drives you wild. You melt into the mattress as he kisses over it.

“Always makes you relax.” He crawls lower, kissing down your body. He sits up on his knees and grabs a pillow to place under your back.

“I know you like to be slightly elevated because it means I can go just a little deeper.” He purrs as he takes his cock in his hands and gently rubs the tip of it along your folds. He slides two fingers into your cunt slowly.

“Know that my fingers drive you absolutely wild, that you need me to go slow to start.” You nod absentmindedly.

You never realized he picked up on all these things. His fingers start to slide in smoother, your cunt getting wetter for him. He leans down and takes a deep breath, groaning at the scent. He slips them out and licks them clean.

“Relax sweetheart,” He spreads your thighs and slips in all the way. Going slow but unrelenting, stretching you just how you like.

“So impatient, you never let me take it easy on you right? Just wanna be full all the time.” He leans down on his elbows as he rolls his hips nice and slow.

There will be no rough sex this time, this is about love. To show you that he truly does love you for you.

“Look at me,” He tilts your head so that your eyes meet. He smiles at the desperate look on your face.

“You can pretend it makes you all embarrassed, but I know you like eye contact.” He hums as he angles his hips so that he hits that perfect spot.

You jolt as pleasure rocks through your whole body but he keeps you under him. He’s slowly and methodically tearing you apart. Every touch, every word out of his mouth just makes it better. He knows. Of course he does.

“I love you Logan.” Your hands cup his face as you stare into his hazel eyes.

This time not filled with lust, but with a true deep love. He looks at you like you’re everything.

“I love you too.” He kisses you as he starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts. He smirks as he feels you start to squirm under him. You could never help it when you were close.

“Come on sweetheart, just let go.” He whispers in your ear.

His deep voice paired with the unrelenting feeling of his cock is all it takes. He holds you in his firm arms as a warm and wonderful tingling sensation runs through your whole body. A blissful smile on your face as you tilt your head back.

You feel your whole body relax as your mind calms. Logan tries to hide his growls as he fucks into you a little faster, until he’s coming hard and deep inside of you. He sighs in contentment as he stays inside of you. He taps your cheek lightly and you look up at him.

“I love you. No one else. Just you.” He moves to pull out but you whine. You need to be close to him right now. He chuckles as he slowly moves to your side. Spooning you tightly with his cock still deep inside of you.

“Can we talk?” You ask shyly.

“About what?” Logan grunts as he pulls you as close as he can get you.

“Anything?” He’s not much of a talker so he asks the questions instead.

How did you discover your powers? How did you meet wade? Just anything and everything and you tell him.

You talk for who knows how long. Staying wrapped in each other's arms. It helps, it really does. Logan listens, he really does listen. He wants to get to know you. He loves you. You rest your head on his chest, tracing shapes into his palm as you talk.

For the first time in a while your mind seems to settle. Ignoring any thought that may try and ruin your mood. It’s just you and him right now. There’s no looming figure of your alternate selves, not anymore.

Just you and Logan. Forever.

[the-s1lly-corner]

HIIII, \(^ヮ^)/ OH MY GOSH UR WRITING IS SO SO SO SO CUTE AND FUN (I’m so happy there’s still creepypasta writers!)

(This is a request for your fluff alphabet!)

May I please request C,H,I,And J for Toby? I’m getting back into my creepy-pasta phase

┐(‘～`；)┌

ANYWAY THANK YOU SO MUCH RAHHH!!!!

H I J with Toby

Originally I was going to skip this as I do not write romantic for toby, however these prompts can be also be read as platonic!! Sorry for cutting off C, I only do three prompts per post 😭😭

Still I hope you enjoy + UEUEUEEU I'm happy to hear you love tje writing!! I need to do more crp !! I miss crp!!

HARSH

Sometimes you two get into arguments.. and it can get a little ugly. Hurtful things can be said from both sides, so it's best to try to find a point where you can end the argument; walking away mid fight only really makes things.. worse.. especially if it was started by one of you trying to set a boundary or stating your feelings about something. Toby tends to try to mend things first, though sometimes he may be too stubborn to apologize.. that's something hes going to need to work on, especially if hes the one who's wrong or went too far. Compromises are.. so-so..

INJURY

When toby gets hurt he tends to keep going, oftentimes leading to his injuries becoming even worse. Or even infected, at least before you came into his life. Hes.. split between letting you take care of him because it feels nice, and rejecting you because he thinks he doesnt need to be babied.. but when you're injured he does.. seem to be a little panicked.. hes bad at hiding it, as he tries his hand at administering first aid. On the upside, he learns it as well as a soft moment shared between you two where you help him

JEALOUSY

He gets jealous... bad.. and often. He tends to get short with you when he feels you've pushed him to the side. Sometimes he might even isolate for a while. Is it healthy for either of you? Definitely not, but you're his first actual friend asides his sister, and he doesnt quite know how to handle possible rejection from you. It's a case of "I have it and I dont want it to leave", even worse because you're not a stranger

[mayzingly]

all the s2 ep3 parts ruined with yapping

!!SPOILERS, IF YOU HAVENT WATCHED ANY OF THEM GO WATCH THEM!!

I haven’t seen an episode be split up in parts since s1 ep10, so either Brittany decided to do it in parts instead of all at once because she knew we would complain about it literally being three months since the last one, or THEYRE COOKING

^^^^^^^^

so the episode starts with them walking on a path, which means im allowed to assume that Pyrare and Ajacenus went in the forest and then got ajavex from somewhere.

first thing I notice right off the bat is how enthusiastic they are about beating their sister up😭😭 like y’all are forgetting that whatever injuries ajaceare gets, ajacent has to deal with. they just don’t fade once she becomes uncorrupted, do they

that’s all I had to say about the first part, since it was surprisingly more boring than I remember

^^^^^^^^

this is my favorite out of the prevs.

the episode starts with ajaceare running like she just got 500$ from her mom and was told she could spend it on anything. dub then asks her how collecting pieces has been going. she pulls out a BIG ASS BAG. if im correct there are 20 artists featured in jsab minus the ones that already gave their pieces and some of them are one timers (avenza, pegboard nerds (iirc), plesco, silva hound, nanobii, TECHNICALLY omnitica, etc etc) so like where did she get all them pieces???

there are multiple theories about who those people could be, but I choose to believe theyre 2/5 out of Shirobon because

THATS A TAIL. AND YOU KNOW WHAT HAS A TAIL? A FOX. AND YOU KNOW WHATS A SONG BY SHIROBON IN JSAB? FOX!!! TOTES DIDNT RUN ON ONE HOUR OF SLEEP LAST NIGHT😃😃😃😃

also, I hope this is just a transition because OTHERWISE HOW DID SHE NOT NOTICE THEM.

one sentence to describe this episode: tri-py.

anyways, onto the next one. you better get your popcorn ready cause im about to RANT.

*cracks knuckles*

and OF COURSE SHES ON A TREE.

why is literally every monster either corrupted or a pacifist in tpc. like YALL GOT FIGHTING SKILLS, USE EM “don’t you know we monsters never attack shapes??” That’s only for YOU, your SAILOR MOON HAVING ASS HAIR LOOKING ELDER SISTER, and “SAILOR MOON”’S BITCHASS BARRACUDA HAVING FRIEND.

girl. im sorry but if I was a monster id be throwing these hands left and right.

“How could you have gotten corrupted like this?” gee idk, maybe a corrupted person touched her!??? Shocking wow “You’re supposed to stay in the mountains like the rest of us!!” bro shes 1000, im pretty sure shes able to not be huddled under u all the time.

“Now give me your pieces!!”

again, this makes

NO.

FUCKING.

SENSE!!!

IF SHE WAS TALKING ABOUT PYRARE, SHE WOULDVE SAID “Give me HIS pieces!” But instead shes saying “Your”.

I don’t know WHY the hell Ajacenus and ajavex would even have pieces, because it’s clear that they don’t have the triangle symbol like every other group member, but even if they did, IT WOULD BE INCOMPLETE BECAUSE AJACENUS IS SUPPOSED TO BE WICKED - AVENZA AND AJAVEX IS DEADLOCKED - F-777!!! SEE HOW ITS TWO DIFFERENT ARTISTS???

AND PLUS, EVEN IF SHE DID JUST MEAN PYRARE, HE WOULDNT HAVE A SINGLE PIECE BECAUSE THEY HAVENT GONE TO THE LAND OF TRIANGLES YET!!!

CAUSE I KNOW DAMN WELL SHE DIDNT FORGET TO ANIMATE THE HAIR DETAILS. I DONT GET WHY THEYRE LEFT OUT OF THIS, THEY COULDVE USED THE SHIELD FROM HER DRESS INSTEAD!!

PYRARE, MOVE!!! QUIT BEING LAZY!!! MOVE YOUR FACE!! DUMBAS-

AND THEN YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO CLAP. BRO.

BROOOO🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

one sentence to describe this episode: BRITTANY COOKED BUT NOBODYS HUNGRY🔥🔥

last and definitely least, is the 4th part. now, the whole video was a bossfight so I don’t have much to say except SHE GOT PUFF PONYTAILS YAAAAAAAAA

I hope she isn’t batshit ugly or I might just remove s2 ep3 part 5 from my consciousness once it comes out

…yeah I had to remove it from my consciousness because WTH is this

“What happened to me?” Girl do you have the big D? (dementia)

HAHAHHH THE STUPID FACE HE MADE IN THE HALLOWEEN SHORT IS BACK, only thing I’m happy about. However…

“It isnt right for a male to hit a female” dude sybau. you throw hands all you want if you feel provoked. pussy.

anyways, onto dub. his section was the only entertaining part. Seeing him tweak like that genuinely made me go “😧” IRL

“Which caretaker is it!? I swear if it’s the anxious one…” made me BUST OUT laughing. Though I do wonder what he would’ve done if the flower lied to him and said it was “the anxious one” who I’m assuming is cube.

“So you decided to come out of retirement?” im curious about this, because… how does he even go into retirement in the first place?

though, I’m gonna talk about three things here.

1. I think (Altered) finally gives us an answer to what Circusic meant in episode 2. “The same way you are!” So we all saw him get revived by the reaper and turn into circubit, so when he says that I can only guess that Iris got revived that same way. You get revived, but with some perks, aka ALTERATIONS.

2. Every flower is infected? That means George is probably back.

3. Circusic is infected??? Either he doesn’t know that hes uncorrupted; or HES BAAAACK!!!!

[destinyc1020]

they way jonathan his spinning this entire situation is sick. Hes literally trying to play the victim and setting himself up as some sort of "martyr" with his freedom hat.

The speed in which the the victim is recanting her testimony/statement sounds to like me like victim intimidation 101. His statement doesnt explain the visible injuries and the fact she was strangled.

Then framing the victim as having a "emotional crisis" to delegitimize her state of mind when the events took place. And the judge gave the victim a temporary restraining order and in new york they dont give those out unless they feel the victim could still be in danger.

This story is is so messed. And JM can kick rocks I've seen how this story plays out its rich celebrity using there infleunce/power to continually use the court system to further there abusive tactics.

Yeeeeaaaaa.... smthg seems fishy to me also that now the woman is seemingly recanting her story. 🤔

Now I'm like:

I sure hope she didn't make smthg up about the incident and is now going back on her word. 🥴 When women do that, it makes it so much harder for other women to have the courage to come forth and be believed by other ppl when they've been abused. 😔

Anyway, I'm STILL giving Jonathan the MAJOR (no pun intended lol 🤭) side-eye on this one, coz that woman didn't just get injuries to her face out of thin air. 🥴 And if the police arrested him, then they must have felt that there was probable cause.

Either he intimidated her, or maybe it was a "lover's spat" that got too far out of hand and he begged her to recant her story for fear of his career. 👀

I have no clue. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Feel free to send me any updates on this developing story.

Ugh.... I'm just so glad I never crushed on him 🥴

Lol I kept TELLING y'all that he's a Butterface! Lol 😅🤣

But now, he's just plain UGLY both outside AND inside if he's indeed a bully and woman-beater like this. 😤

Now he just gives me the ick...

[indigoservant]

everything going into the blame and live is cured my mental health not better getting sickeness [ unfair -vent ] I am not autistic cause is normal person who got tortured my real mother named m.jum

they're people just help me a 9 , 11 people and just best friends with me anymore also yeah day is just better since we in the youth also I can do quietly and talking in the rest time in the my school I'm really happiness new a some friends that's just fine childhood just most best ever , the last months since we drunkened and bullied some new tragedy on my class are drunk mean mocking my all girlfriend I'm no more have time of the nice some friends has accidently went I said what happened some my girlfriend injuries some people play a ball in the class me just help her on center of red and my all friends and so just sad my heart broken her was pain known the problem traffic crime from months ago an long year ago known me now my PARENTS CALLED ME A CRIME , YOU'VE AUTISTIC me just being strange and crying over length to another years CALLED ME LIKE A UGLY YOURE NOT CLEVER YOUR IS WHORE officialy me now just little burden and just me can offer in three months or long months doing self cutting and some ate drinking drugs not illegal pills side and old pills from longest years ago and me crying some vomiiting blood in my influently me just what I do everything BLAME AND FAULT BY OF YOU everything your called me is CUNT SLUT me only got pain by the god because me angry make a pain some pain I've have diabetic , tbc , flues i not talk only crying and disappearing me just little a darkness angel we just on sacrified is weak I'm rlly hate my emotions me really afraid on people outside wen't cause not blame on me just help me me justice afraid I am a not autistic me just stereotypical people I not autistic please don't hurt me like that me everything I go just a heard nice people but some in my way me born by the devils EVERYTHING JUST A STOP MOTHER MUTILATED ME ME JUST YOUR DAUGHTER/SON just you have fame problem on your u just dont talk to me in the everything just liar to me I'm just heard the upset the house has item thief you dont care cause neighbour sure pick the item also lost you as far blame on me just you not talking to problem to me just your liar to me what your want please take talk to me u just blame on me kick my face make my face nosebleeding and vomiiting blood why you don't care me ever make my head broken in miscellar body overfracture of system what your want I die or maybe I am a suicidal YOUR CALLED ME USELESS me just rude to you reason hope it my souls getting a broken that your want me like that me just SUFFERING AND DEATH WAS TBC IN THE HOSPITAL YOUR GRABBED ME AND ANGRY IN POTENTIALLY AND U JUST HEARTLESS AND PUNISHMENT ON ME YOU CALLED ME BORN PREMATURE WHEN THAT'S IT ON MY OLDER YOU CALLED NOT PREMATURE..

[beady-eyed-munson]

Im not 100% knowledgable about the wars in vietnam or korea but i know you could object and not serve during the vietnam war... however, it was extremely difficult to get the paper work.

Considering wayne holds left wing views, i hope he managed to fight the court and get out of it. I think Al, jumped at the opportunity to go...

(we know the types. If you dont, full metal jacket is a perfect example of that ugly mentality of 'this is the boys club', ideas around trauma and anything deemed as femininity or struggling.. pro violence, anti asian hate, pro american imperialism, rpe culture and ableism, seeing anyone different to them as freaks. general mockery of everything and dick waving. Narcissistic, sometimes antisocial man children. Not what the film itself is about but everything about it is awful and promoted those ideas at the time. I grew up around those personalities. Im all too familiar, when people watched that film it just encouraged them even more because seeing it on tv validated them.) Anyway

it created rifts in their already difficult relationship.

Al probably saw wayne as a cry baby that always getting in the way or didnt know what he was talking about, never taking him seriously or bother listening because he never saw him as an proper man or an equal.

If we say Eddie was 21 in 86, he will have been born in 1965, 10 years after vietnam started. 10 years before it ended, so Al would have been sent out.

Maybe he could have been out on his arse. no veteran support or he wasted all his money leaving him to jack cars.

An injury is possible. Maybe he could have been an ignorant man but not a bad man, and the war changed him but if we are to believe hes always been a bad person.. (purely because i dont think the st writers thought that far into timelines.)

... he probably got himself thrown out of the military. He probably had alot of resentment towards the military and towards the world after that. People werent always welcomed back with open arms either, seeing the soldiers as violent symbols of a pointless war.

I lost my train of thought lol

I will be thinking more about this 🤔

I dont think we talk about the fact that wayne lived through world war 2 enough

Joel stoffer is 57.

57 in 1986 would have have made him born in 1929.

He was 10-16 years old during world war 2

(Which means his brother Al lived through it too.. maybe hes older maybe hes younger and one had to look after the other)

[rouge-variant]

I have been having a rough time lately in my life.. can u do hcs or fanfic or whatever u like about Levi's reaction to reader (whom he is fond of) crying after getting beaten by a group of bullies? i understand if u dont want to do it so dont pressure yourself

Oh Gods I'm so sorry you're going through that right now. Of course I don't mind doing this for you. I've been bullied too. I hope this helps make your day a little bit brighter. I'm sorry it took so long. I'm assuming this is happening in a modern-ish school setting so lets do this in an AU. It might comfort you more. Thanks for your request, though I wish it was under better circumstances, and I hope you enjoy!!!

Trigger warning: Bullying, Levi may have given one of the idiots a black eye but they probably deserved it 😶

Levi Ackerman x Y/n: Guardian Angel

Something was setting you off and Levi knew it. What was setting you off, he didn't know but he wanted to find out. You were a people pleaser. Part of him was happy you were always such a thoughtful person but at the same time, annoyed the hell out of him. For once could you come and tell him what was going on that kept dragging you down?

Turns out he didn't need you to come to him. Nothing was private in this school. One person would say something and it would spread like wildfire. None of your friends had seen you after third period and you weren't responding to any of his texts which made his heart start beating quickly. You weren't the type of person to ignore messages and your disappearance, all were red flags.

At the end of class, he was gathering his books when he heard an obnoxious amount of noise coming from the courtyard. There was a bunch of kids huddled around and they were all cheering on a fight. Normally he would never get tangled up in this mess but his gut was telling him otherwise so he went to inspect. What he saw made his blood boil.

You were curled up into a ball, trying to protect yourself from the kicks of the two people standing above you. The Marker Twins. Levi was ready to kill them. Miche and Erwin were with him at the time, which was probably a good thing. After seeing you beaten up and hearing your cries, everything zoned out for Levi. His anger fueled his actions and he was no longer in control of himself. Everything was a blur. Once his mind settled again, Miche was holding him back and one of the Marker Twins was knocked out. An ugly bruise forming around their left eye. The other twin stood back horrified by what Levi had done. Erwin had gotten some of the admins staffs' attention and they got the mess of students to clear away. Once Miche let Levi go, he ran over to you and cupped your face, gently untucking it from your arms.

"Y/n, sweetheart look at me" his voice was still level as he knew if you saw him upsets, it would only worsen your mood. He pulled you into his arms, shielding you from the occasional onlooker. He held you while you cried, fisting his shirt and tears being absorbed into it. Screw his shirt, screw the dust he was kneeling in, none of that matter right now. You mattered. No matter what those idiots said about you.

"I want you to ignore what they said about you ok? They have no idea what they're talking about" he murmured to you. He waited until you were settled a little bit more before continuing.

"You are smarter than what they say. You are more beautiful than what they pointed out. You don't need to be perfect by their standards because you already are to me. I won't let them do this to you ever again. I promise you Y/n" he made sure that you looked at him while he said that. He wiped away your tears, making sure to kiss cheek before helping you to your feet.

"That's it my love. Let's go home and patch you up now ok?" Levi was going to make sure to take care of your injuries once he brought you back to his place. And going forward, he was going to make sure that someone was always going to be by your side at all times. Someone like Miche or Erwin if he could be. No one was ever going to touch his angel like this ever again. He would make sure of it.

"I love you Y/n and nothing is going to change that. I promise" he hugged you tightly before you both escaped to the safety of his house and to the waiting comfort of blankets, movies, snacks and Levi's cuddles.

[jangofctts]

Thing for Trouble (boba fett x fem!reader x din djarin) (part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)

Rated: explicit 18+

word count: 7.6k

warnings: threesome, smut, thigh riding, oral female receiving, handjobs, unprotected sex (dont be a deadbeat, wrap that shCMEAT), light choking, throne fucking, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampies, pet names, sub? din? more likely than you think (also lmk if I missed any tags!)    

a/n: yall im sorry this is such garbage but kjkwejh here we be. I hOPE YOU ENJOY THE CIRCUS. thank you to everyone who’s encouraged this so COME GET YALLS MANDO MEAT  

There isn’t much when he it comes to Tatooine and fun things to do. There’s pod acing, drinking, Sabaac tourneys, more podracing, gambling and scavenging. Unless there’s a festival or some wild event, you’re stuck with boredom and whatever you can scrounge up for fun in the palace. 

Now, don’t get it wrong—if you had it your way, you’d spend every waking hour trialing behind Boba, but you don’t want to smother. Fennec too—while you enjoy her company, you know that half of the reason she sticks around is Boba’s order for your protection. Kinda ruins the fun when you know she probably only tolerates you because she’s being paid to. Eh whatever—doesn’t stop you from tagging along on as she runs errands in town—besides, today you actually have a reason to be here instead of loitering like a lost puppy. 

Fennec tells you to be safe and com her the second trouble rears its ugly head and disappears into the weapons shop—muttering about her prized rifle being jammed or something. You don’t know, all you hear is that you have the entire afternoon to yourself to hunt down your oh so elusive prize. Star cherries.    

The markets are always vibrant. Jam packed with people from each and every corner of the galaxy, hundreds of booths and stalls selling their wares that varies from foods to jewelry to even bounty services. Tempting as is it is to peruse the sparkly rows of dainty necklaces and rings or inspect the vast array of beige ponchos and manilla undershirts—you have a purpose. A once a year chance you refuse to let go to waste.   

The shabby booth is tucked near the end of the street, the mountain of the little red fruits looking comical compared to the withered old lady who sits beside them. She flashes you a gap-toothed smile, the crowfeet wrinkles surrounding her eyes scrunch with the movement. “Ah! I was wondering when you’d show, dear.” 

“Hello, Mrs. Feraan,” you greet, bending at the was it to kiss her wrinkly cheek. The old vender was one of the first kind souls you met here when you arrived on Tatooine. In return for a couple compliments or an offer to be the lab rat to test her new recipes for pie or tarts, she hooks you up with the best of the cherries—handpicked with love. “How’s business today?”

She waves her hand in dismissal, her silver rings glinting in the sun. “Same as always, child.”

Eventually you work your way through the pleasantries and a couple, long winded tangents. The sort that only old people can flawlessly spin and keep you engaged. Trials and tribulations to earn your prize—you don’t mind sacrificing a couple hours.

Finally you’re allowed to walk away—cherries in hand and exceedingly eager for your sweet snack. Unfortunately, suffering through Mrs. Feraan’s old childhood laments is not the only bump in the road you have to face.       

Granted, it is your fault—not looking where your feet are taking you—

Your temple crashes into something agonizingly hard. You swear you hear a quiet bonk when your skull collides with the mystery material and fucking hell—you probably have a concussion from the force of it. 

Unbothered by your probable brain injury, you’re far more concerned with the cherries spilling onto the ground and so, as you flail and dramatically topple over—the brunt of your fall is cushioned by your shoulder. Something pops and yeah, ok, maybe you just tore a ligament but—kriffing worth it for the cherries you miraculously saved from their dusty graves.     

Your temper flares as you spot the dirty brown boots pointed in your direction. Maneuvering yourself up so you don’t also get trampled by the crowd, you bare your teeth and put on your best impression of a terrifying force of nature despite the fact you’ve been knocked flat on your ass. “What the fuck—“

The words shrivel up and die upon your tongue as your eyes slide up the stranger’s legs, broad shoulders sporting the shiny armor that twinkles in the midday suns. They then settle on an all too familiar helmet. Well, sorta—you’re familiar with a certain red and green one, not the equivalent of a wearable disco ball.

You squint as the stranger’s head dips to look at you crumpled at his feet. You dust yourself off and point an accusing finger. “Fuck is your problem standing in the middle of the road?”

The stranger quirks their head. “You ran into me—maybe you should watch where you’re stepping.”

The raspy voice is a striking sound. Mellow and silky even as it passes through the vocoder and dresses it in static charm. Some of your anger melts away—maybe this is the friend Boba was talking about—it’d make sense. They’re wearing the same type of armor…  

You shake your head and shove down your pride. You don’t think Boba would appreciate you chewing his ear off. “Sorry—you’re right.”

As you readjust your clothes and precious cherries you introduce yourself with a tiny smile. Yet just as you're about to ask him his name he interjects with a step forward. You flinch away but all he does is sweep back a strand of hair from your forehead, revealing a little nick in the skin. You hiss as his fingertips scrape against it--great, an actual head wound. “Are you alright?”

Maker—here you are, after yelling at him and he finds it in him to be compassionate. You wave away his concerns. “Y-yeah--peachy.” 

He apologizes with a dip of his head and words soaked in regret and fuck--now you feel bad. You wrack through your brain and search for last ditch attempts to fix this little mishap and settle with a half baked idea. It’s dumb--but hey, if it works, it works.  

“Seriously, it’s fine. But I mean, if you’re so worried, how about you walk me home and we call it even?” You propose, sticking out your hand to seal the deal. If your assumptions are right, he’d just be tailing you the whole way home anyway. “I’m headed towards the palace, so if it’s not too much out of your way then—“

He hesitates and interrupts by taking your hand. “Alright. Deal.” 

You smile. “Lovely.” 

On the return trip, Din is quiet—tells you his name and responds to your conversation fillers with interested hums—but other than that he remains on the silent end. Intriguing with a rounded softness unlike the armor he wears--a man of mystery much like  a certain someone who awaits you back home. Well--Din is less grumpy--by a long shot...but still. It’s easy to spot some of their shared similarities.  

                                        -=-=-=-

Upon arriving at the castle you part ways with Din before he reaches the throne room--you’re not too excited about showing off your new battle scar yet and while it was an accident, making an entrance with Din will make it far too easy to link the injury with him. Besides, you don’t wanna risk scaring off your new friend if Boba decides to showcase that tightly sealed lid of anger and brutality. 

Instead you take the long way around the palace. Soon, muffled voices carry through the long corridors, growing louder as you work your way back from the kitchens. You round the corner, catching glimpses of Boba and your new friend through the pillars that prop up the low ceiling. You don’t meant to spy, but you do so anyway, hesitant on interrupting.     

That is...until Boba cocks his head to the side and settles his eyes onto the pillar you hide behind. “It seems we have a little shadow with us today.” 

You suck in a breath as your heart skips in a thrumming pace. Boba addresses you by name and crooks his fingers in a lazy motion for you to step out into the light—revealing yourself to the small party of two. “Come here, little one.”

The low light catches off of Din’s helmet with a glittering sparkle when he swivels his head. The tiny, warped figure of yourself reflects in mirror-like pieces of smelted beskar as his shoulders pull tight with recognition. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the smile that threatens to crack across your face at bay. Boba is no fool—he excels in the subtleties of shifting eyes and clenched fists to hide anxiety or closely guarded information—sickeningly familiar with your own quirks and tells, but—  

There’s no reason to reveal Din’s little secret—not yet. Boba called him a friend but you truly have no clue what the depths of that word entailed. Friend could mean anything from a casual acquaintance, to an old childhood bond, and or anything in between. You sigh and brush past him, mentally congratulating yourself for keeping a cool mask of indifference etched into your features. If Din wants to open that can of worms then so be it—you weren’t the one offering to walk random people home. 

You step onto the dais and slide your free hand into Boba’s outstretched palm. The worn leather tickles up your forearm and locks over your elbow, silently demanding you to sit on his lap. There’s plenty of room to both sit on the throne but no—Boba prefers you tucked against the cool metal of his cuirass. You grunt as the bowl of star cherries you cradle dangerously dips when Boba adjusts your weight over his thighs.  

His fingers pull back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and then spider along your jawline. The ends of his mouth quirk as Boba pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, capturing your undivided attention. “I don’t like it when you lurk in the shadows, little one. You’re allowed to listen.

You huff. “I know—but lurking is fun.”

Boba releases your chin with a scoff. “Foolish, girl.” You dip your chin with a sheepish grin as heat rushes to your cheeks. You briefly forget about the tiny nick adorning your right temple, the only thing you were trying to keep hidden—but Boba is all too quick to notice. “What is this?”

He pushes your hair out of the way of the cut, inspects it, then curls his fingers around your jaw to demand an answer. You refuse to let your eyes wander over to Din—what a dead giveaway that would be—and instead muster up enough courage to hold the weight of his stare. 

“I tripped at the markets,” you say—not a complete lie. “It’s just a little scratch—no biggie.”

Boba squints in suspicion and grumbles a soft hm. You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh—he won’t argue about it right now. Not a battle worth his while when you’re keen on keeping the full truth behind a wall of teeth and anxieties. Boba’s hand falls away, gestures to Din who still stands stiffer than a stature, then lays it over the golden armrest. “I’m sure you’ve noticed our guest—“

Din tips his head in acknowledgement. 

“The rightful ruler of Mandalore,” Boba continues. “Din Djarin.” 

Din Djarin…despite already knowing his name (or half of it, at least) you like the way it rolls off the tongue—like how it’s seemingly made to be repeated and carved into the walls of some ancient script. Your knowledge on all things Mandalorian is…limited to say the least but you know enough about the rumors. 

“Isn’t Mandalore supposed to be haunted?” You don’t mean for your words to be a pointy jab to the ribs but regardless, it strikes a tender chord within the Mandalorian. You wince as Din shifts his weight and clenches his palm—a long story. “Sorry—I—I’m sure your home is lovely, all I know about it are dumb ghost stories about evil wizards and laser swords.” 

The blood under your cheeks burn red hot. Great. Not only are you a complete bantha brain, you’ve also managed to sound like an impudent child. Boba soothes a thumb over your thigh as you curl into yourself—bastard. He thinks this is funny.        

“It’s not my home,” Din responds, albeit tentatively. “Never been.”

Your brows furrow. Alrighty then.  

Boba snorts and shakes his head. He mutters something in Mando’a and lazily waves his hand, dismissing the line of conversation entirely. It was turning into a dumpster fire anyway—   

With a slow exhale, you remove yourself from the discussion and instead tuck your head under Boba’s chin. The beskar is cold against your cheek but it feels nice against the sweltering midday heat.  

Their conversation fades in and out as you rest your head over Boba’s cuirass, listlessly picking through the bowl of fruit for the ripest ones. You sigh—the next cherry you bring up to your lips is intercepted as Boba’s hand clamps around your wrist and redirects it into his own mouth. You don’t find it in you to be grumpy about the stolen treat when Boba’s tongue slides over your sticky fingers. Still holding your wrist captive, he sucks the tip of your thumb into the warm heat of his mouth and curls his tongue around the digit. Your index finger is given the same treatment before your hand is returned. The beginnings of arousal spark to life below your belly, and fuck—that shouldn’t have been so…so…hot. 

Din’s smoky baritone fades into background noise as the entirety of your attention zero’s in on Boba’s mouth. You purse your lips and suck in a shaky breath, then return your hand to the bowl to fish out another fruit. You don’t need any guidance this time around as you bring the cherry to his mouth—the crimson juice spilling down your palm and part of your arm as his teeth pierce the fragile skin. You breath hitches as Boba dips his head, catching the bead of liquid running down your arm with the tip of his tongue, then swiping s a slow trail up, and over the lines of your palm. He plants a careful kiss there, then breaks away. 

Before you have the chance to reach for another one, Boba plucks a cherry from the bowl and rests it against the seam of your lisp, inviting you to partake in this little game he’s created. A wicked smirk curls over his mouth as you accept—the tart flavor of the fruit spilling over your tastebuds as you chew and swallow. A little wine escapes you as his leather-clad thumb rolls over your bottom lip, bushes past the barrier of your teeth and seats the digit into your mouth—all the way down to the third knuckle. 

You hardly notice the moment Din’s voice tapers off into silence—much too enraptured with the taste of leather and the smooth feel of it over your tongue. You gag slightly when Boba’s thumb reaches the back of your throat, then retreats just as slow. The string of saliva that still connects the digit to your wet mouth, drips over your chin and part of your lip, eliciting a jagged, echoey breath that crackles through Din’s vocoder. 

Boba grins—something that better belongs on a sneering jackal just about to pounce on unsuspecting prey with needle sharp talons, rather than his face. His eyes drift up to address his guest. “Do you see something you like, Mand’alor?”

Din’s head jerks, averting his gaze to anywhere but the throne. He murmurs a weak apology and shifts his weight to his other leg—acting as if he were to look at you a second time, it’d burn him to a crisp or force him to confront Boba Fett’s wrath. Obviously, neither thing would happen, but Din still remains unsure with his foothold in this situation.   

“I see how you look at her,” Boba drawls—not an accusation, just a statement brought to light. Boba’s hand drops to your thigh, the warm weight of it resting just past your knee as Din swallows his nerves and returns his gaze. “It’s alright—a pretty little thing like her is bound to turn heads.” 

A blush hotter than wildfire licks up your cheeks as Din nods in agreement. “She’s beautiful…you’re a lucky man.”

Boba’s grip on your thigh hoards you closer to his chest. He is and he’s fully aware of that fact, but there’s no need to admit such a thing when it’s so blatantly obvious. A lull in the conversation creates a palpable tension—nervous energy and a choice to let this is fade into nonexistence or…or breathe life into that flickering ember of unsaid desires.     

Your heart leaps into your throat when Boba shatters the silence and addresses you. “You’re awfully quiet, princess…what do you think?”

He’s placing whatever this is into your hand and leaving you to call the shots. You’ve always been a troublemaker and there’s no will or way as to why you’d stop now. You look between your lover and Din as a smile curls over your face. “I think���if he’s so interested—why not give him a show? After all, he did bring me home—he deserves some reimbursement for the trouble.”

Boba’s shoulders jolt with a chuckle. “How chivalrous.” You shiver as he strokes the back of his finger down your cheek. “Fine, as you wish, little one—go play.” 

Giddy excitement bubbles through your chest as Boba offers Din to take a seat on the edge of the dais. Din still has an option to escape, to slip through the cracks and pretend this never happened—but stars, you hope he stays. Din takes a step forward, then another—and another until he’s standing before the throne. He studies the raised edge and gingerly takes a seat. 

You abandon your bowl of cherries onto the forearm of the throne and slip off Boba’s lap. You drift over to Din, his gloved fingers clenching and unclenching as they rest over his thigh plating. He’s purposefully avoiding your eye as you kneel beside him—still locked onto that niggling fear that this could be some sort of trick or test in resolve.      

Smiling sweetly, you skate your hand over his knuckles—guiding his large palm to your waist and then under and up your loose shirt and bra. Din mutters a curse as you place his palm over your breast. “I’m glad you stayed.”

Pleased with his reaction, you peel off your shirt and bra, breath hitching as Din pinches your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Same—I think…”

With a bit more bravery backing his movements, Din pulls away briefly, shucks off his gloves and encompasses both your breasts. They’re warm and calloused, riddled with silvery scars that stand out against his brown skin, a storybook of past battles—won and lost—all equally important to the fibers of his being that stitch him together into a whole. His hand whispers down the length of your ribcage, no doubt feeling the thrum of your heart beating wildly against the cartilage and bone. It tickles over the swell of your hips then—        

“You said you wanted to give him a show,” Boba drawls behind you, a sharp twinge of hostility lacing his words. “So enjoy the show, Mand’alor, ’nd keep your hands to yourself."

Din recoils at the verbal reprimand and drops his hands speedier than a flash of lightning. You frown and throw a glare over your shoulder. Bastard. Boba quirks a brow and runs his thumb over his lip, the edged sparkle in his dark eyes taunting you into challenging him. You huff and turn a cold shoulder. 

“Sorry, Din,” you purr, scrounging up any and all back up plans to keep you both entertained. “Seems my king isn’t as generous I thought.”

Din withers a bit at the catty remark, keeping his lips sealed tight as Boba growls your name in warning. You don’t pay him any mind. 

You puff up your cheeks and release the air in a steady stream, as your eyes scrape over Din’s armored thigh. Ok—you can work with that. It wouldn’t be breaking any rules…not technically. You step away, paw at your waistband and let the breezy fabric pool over around your ankles, your underwear quickly joining the pile. 

Now bare, you return to Din’s side, his careful inhale distorted into choppy static as you straddle his thigh. He lifts both hands, intending to grab at your waist, but pauses midair. No touching. You lips tilt with a smirk as he clenches his fists and pins his hands to the cool stone instead, an attempt to curb that urge to reach for you. His shoulders knit together when you mold your hand in the gap between his shoulder pauldron and cuirass to give yourself some sort of balance—obviously not used to a soft touch.  

You lower yourself and hiss through clenched teeth. It’s fucking freezing. Goosebumps rush up each limb as the wet warmth of your cunt meets the frigid beskar—the chill much colder than you initially expected. It’s one thing to touch the beskar with an open palm and another thing entirely to feel against such an intimate part of yourself. Din’s visor drops to look between your legs as you give your hips an experimental roll. 

It’s different. You’re used to hardened muscle and fabric, or your own fingers while pleasuring yourself. Your breath hitches as Din’s thigh twitches, the smelted seam of the cuisse bumping against your throbbing clit. 

“Sorry,” Din mumbles, “Didn’t mean—“

“It’s ok,” you smile, rocking your hips to ease into the sensation. “Just surprised me.”

The pace you set is slow, careful not to overwork your nerves as your arousal blooms and metastasizes like simmering coals low in your groin. With each lecherous pull of your cunt against his thigh, the beskar begins to warm to the temperature of your skin—the wetness between your thighs abating the friction and making the surface slippery. A low gasp escapes you once you find the right ridge and angle that just grinds perfectly against your aching clit. Your fingers dig into the cowl of Din’s cloak. 

“Shit—feels good.” Like your voice and little moans jumpstart Din’s ability to move, his large hand drifts to the front of his trousers—an already sizable bulge tenting the dark brown fabric. You squeak as Din's leg jolts for a second time, a burst of dizzying ecstasy wracking up your spine with the choppy movement. 

You suck in another raspy breath as your attention drops to his hand that cups his cock and palms himself through his trousers. You chew your bottom lip and clench your fist gripping his cowl, still gyrating your hips over the beska as Din hooks his thumb into his waistband and pulls them down, slow as molasses. 

Fucking hell—he’s bigger than you initially imagined. Flushed a rosy brown, and half hard already, twitching as Din wraps his fingers around the thick length. Din lifts his head, gauging your interest or disapproval—but kriff—who the fuck would ever be unhappy with that sorta heat he’s packing? You bite your bottom lip, scouring your brain for ideas to convince Boba into letting you taste Din—but your plotting is abruptly cut short. 

Boba sits up and off the throne, his presence looming over your shoulder as he lowers to one knee. You shiver and arch your neck, exposing more of your vulnerable throat as Boba runs the fingertip of his pointer finger down the side of your cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself, princess?”  

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as Boba opens his palm and cradles your jaw. You groan and roll your head back onto your shoulders as Boba snakes one hand around your hip and jolts you forward and down—disrupting the slow rock with a catastrophic interference. Unrefined bolts of plasma shoot up your spine as desire licks up thighs—you need more. 

Boba dips his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You grunt when his teeth sink into your flesh, worrying a bruise into your skin. Boba laves his tongue over the throbbing area, then licks a wet trail up to the shell of your ear, all the while you continue to grind on Din’s thigh. Boba nibbles your earlobe and whispers your name—the sound sweeter than any symphony could ever hope to make. Like smoke over deep water or the surging crackle of energy just before a thunderstorm high up in the mountains. 

“You’re allowed to touch…” he says with a rough chuckle. “Go on.”

Your noise of agreement is quickly muffled as Boba interrupts you with a feverish kiss—all open mouthed and breathless as his tongue curls around yours. Your chest heaves for precious air as Boba retreats just as abruptly as it began. With a satisfied smirk ghosting over his lips, he taps you below the chin and returns to his throne to continue observing.         

Dropping your eyes between Din’s legs, his cock, hardened to its full glory and held casually in his  calloused hand, is truly a sight. Your pulse thrums in your ears as Din rolls his wrist and pumps his length, the velvety skin shifting over what looks like fucking beskar underneath. It strains towards his navel as you watch with wide eyes, mesmerized with the way he touches himself. 

Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you touch your hand to his wrist.  Din shudders like your skin is made of sizzling embers that’s broken off the tail end of shooting star—like you’re something too luminous and dangerous to be handled by someone like him. You lift your gaze, smiling into that darkened void of the visor and gracing him with a toothy smile. “Will you let me touch you, Din?”

He nods and utters a breathy yes. 

Fuck yeah.    

Din sucks in a stuttered breath when your hand circles around his thick length. His hips jolt into your palm as you slide your fist to the base then all the way back up. Precum beads over the tip, dribbling down and coating your knuckles with sticky wetness. It eases some of that friction as you fall into an easy rhythm, matching your rocking hips with each pump of his cock. 

Din’s stuttered moans fill the small space between you, dragging you closer to your release that’s suddenly so close. He whines as you abandon his length to chase after your high, your arousal leaking from your center and dripping down the sides of the beskar. Din takes his cock into his hands, fisting himself to your little show of breathy wines and rough jerking of your hips over his thigh. 

Din says your name attached with a broken moan and it’s over—    

Everything seizes up tighter than a jaw clamp as your tumble off that jagged peak of searing, white hot pleasure. It’s raw, sparking off like a blade to metal, burning you from the inside out as you cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your thighs shaking as you curl inward as if he punched you in the fucking gut. It feels like he did. Maker—the cool beskar against your throbbing clit is like you’ve been thrown to the mercies of an electrical surge. 

It doesn’t help either that Din is still pumping his length, hips stuttering as he brings himself to his own euphoric high. The air in your lungs seizes when a fragile groan, light and airy passes through the vocoder. Din rocks his hips into his fist, once—twice and then he’s throbbing and cumming into his hand. Hot ropes of his release splatter up his chest plate and parts of your thighs, his helmet nearly knocking into you as he hunches foreword from the intensity of it.     

Too exhausted to keep yourself upright, you smash your cheek against his cuirass, involuntarily twitching as the last little waves of pleasure prickle through the rest of your nerves. You whine as you watch Din move his hand to collect some of your wetness coating his thigh. He brings two fingers stained with your slick to the lip of his helmet, pushes it up with his thumb just far enough to sink the two digits into his mouth. He groans out a quiet fuck, and repeats the action, swiping his fingers through the mess you’ve made and feeding it to himself. Your cunt clenches as you catch a sliver of his pink tongue that twists between his thick fingers.   

He groans and rolls his head back onto his shoulders. “Please—can I taste you? Fuck—I-I need my mouth on you.” 

Stars—the mere idea of it stokes the dwindling flames into a blaze of want. You look up at Boba and puff out your bottom lip. Pouting and begging hardly ever gets you what you want under normal circumstances—Boba Fett is more stubborn than a rancor—but you hope just this once he’ll be lenient.   

Boba holds out his gloved hand—summoning you to his lap without a lick of protest on your end. Din however makes a sound akin to a whimper when you leave him. Boba gathers you in his arms for the second time, the leather a strange sensation as it spiders down your ribcage and around your hips. You can feel his hardness poking into your backside once you settle against him—his chest plate a cold shock to your naked flesh. You shiver and bury your nose into the crook of his neck, poking your tongue out to taste him. Boba’s cock twitches under you as your teeth sink into him with a cheeky nip.   

“Is that what you want, little one?” Boba rumbles in question. His right hand glides lower, grabbing a handful of your thigh and squeezing. You groan and keen out a whine of affirmation. 

Boba cocks his head towards Din. “Well? You’ve got your wish—don’t keep her waiting.” 

Din shakily stands—hesitating with removing his helmet for enough time that you notice the silence that follows. The vocoder crackles as Din sighs. “Do you trust her?”

“With my life.” Boba states it without a second thought. Your heart twists, golden light spilling from  your lungs and staining your insides with devotion and fuzzy affection. You press a soft kiss over Boba’s jaw.   

“Is she…” Din speaks a word in Mando’a you have no hope to decipher—either no direct translation or he’s purposefully left you in the dark. 

Based on the way Boba almost imperceptibly tenses, you guess the latter. Boba responds with a grunt and an unsure dip of the chin. The answer is complicated—that much you can gather…you push it to the back of you brain for now. 

Din nods, inhales, and steels his nerves. Plastering his hands around the shiny helmet, he tugs it off with a slow reveal of dark, patchy facial, plush lips and wavy brown hair that falls around his olive skin. And oh, his eyes—soft chestnut brown eyes that hold such ache within them—lost things, broken bones, wearing his wounds like decoration upon his chest. Forged in the flames of war, risen from the ashes with murder and mercy rolled into one.      

You wish him a kinder future. One that doesn’t end with pain and a blaze of an unchecked wildfire—the same way how all heroes end up as martyrs.  

Though—right now—you can be the beginning of softer things for Din. You smile and invite him closer, a vortex of anxiety peppered with arousal as his eyes flit over your naked body. He sets his helmet to the side with care and drifts to the foot of the throne—fuck, he’s broad. Why hadn’t you noticed that before?   

Your mental berating is severed when cool air meets the wet heat of your cunt as Boba hooks your thighs over his knees, spreading you wide as far as your hips allow. Din’s unfiltered moan at the sigh of you, sends a volt of electricity through every vein. Din lowers himself to one knee, and then the other, shuffling between yours and Boba’s legs. 

“Can I touch?” He asks, soft brows raising in question. 

Boba lazily raises two fingers in a motion of permission. Your chest tightens at the sight of Din’s boyish grin—warm palms settling over the sharp bend of your knees. His thumbs trace soothing circles over the skin and right as Din decides to swoop down, Boba catches him by the hair atop his head and yanks. Din grunts—the long, arched line of his neck a tempting sight as he swallows. “No marks.” Din’s jaw clenches, but nonetheless, he agrees to Boba’s command. 

Boba hums in satisfaction and untangles his fingers from the mess of Din’s soft curls. Din’s brows pinch together for half a tick but smooth out in the next breath. No use being irritated—especially right now.   

As directed, Din leaves not a scratch. Instead he scrapes the blunt edges of his teeth along the insides of your thighs, threatening to catch soft flesh between them—but he knows better than to act on the urge. He laves his warm tongue over each freckle or blemish he finds, leaving no patch of skin undiscovered as licks a steady trail to his prize. Din mouths a warm kiss over the crease of your thigh, and smooths his calloused hands over your hips, settling for a moment to trace little circles with his thumbs onto the soft protrusion of bone there. Seemingly satisfied, he then shifts them closer to your aching cunt. His hot breath fans over your cunt as he uses his thumbs to glide through your folds, almost curious with his exploration. He makes a little hum of appreciation low in his throat when the pads of his thumbs part your soaking folds.    

You whimper and bury your face into the crook of Boba’s neck, his warm palms a much needed comfort as they tickle down your ribcage, then sweep back up to cup your tits. You cry and arch— Din’s tongue is scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your cunt all the way up to your clit. Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through your abdomen. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—kriff. 

Fuck, you need more.   

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are transfigured and molded into a vicious loop—beginning with those adoring brown eyes, the color of freshly tilled earth and the warmth of sunlight over dappled aspen leaves in the balmy summer afternoons. It ends with soft lips—rose petal pink with devotion crystallizing in his mouth like sugar—madness and uncertainty and lovesick desire is all that he is and you’re not sure if you’ll come out of this unscathed.    

He sinks two deliciously thick fingers into your clenching hole and curls them, only to retract them a moment later to shovel more of your wetness onto his tongue—as if simply using his mouth wasn’t enough for him. Like he needs to savor every drop of your arousal like the golden ambrosia the gods feast upon in their palaces of cloud and endless twilight. 

That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade away like a hand through fog—but you’re going nowhere. You’d stay here, suspended in time forever if the choice were up to you. 

You whine and arch off Boba’s chest plate as Din strokes and curls his fingertips, plucking little gasps and moans from you easier than breathing. He zeros in on that little spot that makes your leg go all jittery and forces out high pitched mewls that echo through the throne room. You’re careening towards another high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure. 

“Stars—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must sting—at least a little bit. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth. 

Your release zips through your body like a flash flood—quick and fatal that leaves you gasping for air and struggling not to let your head dip below the waves. Your high seeps into each limb until they feel heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to work through the muddled thought and remember where exactly you are. You groan and toss your head back as Din keeps going.    

“Another one—let me—“ He moans, opening his mouth as wide as it’ll go so he can devour more of you. You can feel the mixture of saliva and your own arousal dripping down your cunt and over your thighs, some of it pooling on the throne or onto the floor. Your thighs shake as Din pushes you towards another high.        

You squeak as Boba’s palm sweeps up your sternum, locking his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. The tip of his nose nuzzles into your cheek—silently demanding a well earned kiss as his hips rock into your ass, grinding his cock for the barest scrap of friction. You moan into his mouth as Din doubles his efforts, raw and bordering that serrated edge of overstimulation and ecstasy.  

Goosebumps rush over your arm as Boba places his lips right beside the shell of your ear. You feel the sticky heat of his breath fan over your throat and shoulder, and the way his lips skim your ear when they move to form the syllables of his words. “Such a filthy princess…”

You clench around Din’s fingers and moan a half garbled, “Boba—“ 

His weathered palm encompasses the entirety of your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “If only you could see yourself…dripping all over my throne and another man’s tongue.” Boba clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Depraved creature—cum for your rightful king.” 

Wildfire chars your insides as it begins in your core and sweeps through your body. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you buck and squirm in their arms—no mercy as the prickly waves of your orgasm make you hypersensitive to each touch. Even the hold on your hip, while innocent in nature, is blistering as if you suffered from a fever. You shudder as a salty tear rolls down your cheek. Boba catches it with his tongue as your ears pick up Din’s raspy praise—thanking you while spattering reverent kisses up your thighs. 

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you do spot the apparent wetness soaking through the front of Din’s trousers. Fuck—he—he came again while eating you out. You whimper and rest the back of your head over Boba’s shoulder.  

Your belly flinches under his scratchy facial hair as Din travels up, seizing and worshiping every inch he’s freely given before intercepted. He catches your nipple between your teeth, tugs a bit then moves to the other, lavishing equal attention with adoring lips and sweet whispers. When he reaches your collarbone, you’re boxed in against his chest plate and Boba’s. A blush blooms under your cheeks hotter than stare fire as Din gingerly sucks your earlobe into his mouth and breathes out a muted moan of your name—committing the very essence of you to his memory for the rest of his days. 

Your heart squeezes tight like a clenched fist when he mumbles another thank you. Plucking up a smidge of courage, he risks planting a kiss right on the corner of your mouth. You blink—despite the sweetness of the gesture you wince as Boba snarls a curt phrase in Mando’a. Din peels himself away with a minuscule frown and slinks away.          

Yet before you have the chance to remedy the situation of wounded pride and territorial jealousy—Boba tightens his hold on your hips and flips you both, so that now your back is smashed against the seat of the throne, a bit crumpled and sorta folded in half. Your hips hang off the edge as Boba holds the majority of your weight, grinding his clothed cock between the apex of your thighs. 

“Don’t forget, princess—” Boba barks, slithering a hand up the column of your throat. You breath hitches as he lightly presses his palm down. “—what belongs to me.”

Reaching between you, he slides his gloved fingers through your slick folds and sinks two of them inside of your clenching center. You jolt as his thumb scrubs over your clit, still sensitive and edging towards too much. 

“You want me to fuck you here?” He asks, shifting his hold to grip your jaw instead—the rounds of his fingertips digging firmly into the flesh and bone. “Say it.”      

You gasp and scrabble weakly at Boba’s shoulders as he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit. “Please, Boba! Please fuck me—I need it.” 

Boba folds over you, his breath fanning hot and hungry against your cheek. He devours your mouth with a discordant edge, like he’s trying to prove to the entire galaxy you are unmistakably his despite the fact you’re already wound so tightly around his fingers. Boba wrenches himself free and tears at his robe and trousers to free his thick length, leaking and flushed a rosy brown at the tip. He doesn’t keep either of you waiting as he removes his fingers and replaces them with something bigger.       

You both groan as he lines himself up with your entrance and sinks into you, a delicious stretch that leaves you shivering beneath him. “Fuck—so wet for me.”

The first roll of his hips makes an obscene noise that showers shame down your throat, but it’s quickly kicked to the back of your brain as he slams back into your cunt—obliterating all thoughts save for him. Boba’s lip curls over his teeth as he claws at your thighs and yanks them over his shoulder, crushing you even further between the throne and the weight of his body. Each stroke is a liquid fire, tearing you apart at the seems while at the same time stitching you back together and leaving your body begging for more. Like this, it’s as if he’s reaching the deepest part of you, pounding into your cunt and hitting every nerve with deadly precision. Your legs prickle with the stretch as you squirm beneath him, stuck with the brunt of rough thrusts and violent stamina with nowhere to go.   

“Bein’ such a good girl for me." He hums into the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulders. He sucks a mark there and tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of you neck, forcing you into a steeper arch. “Maker, you look so fuckin’ pretty stretched around my cock.”

Your walls clench tight around him as you dig your nails into the fabric of his cowl. You voice cracks with airy moans—attempting to work through the haze of lust and respond. All that tumbles from your lips is a pathetic whine of his name—so close to that precipice again.    

The friction of each thrust scraping against your clit, the way he fills you and the possessive hand curled over your throat. You wiggle an arm between your bodies and rub the little bundle of nerves in a frenzied half-circle. You wheeze as Boba increases the pressure over your throat. 

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demands as devastating ripples begin to spark through your core, a live wire an inch away from a puddle of water. “Tell me—“

“You! It’s you—“ You sob, desperate for another release only he can give. “I’m yours—“

Boba snickers and gives your throat another squeeze. “Cum on my cock.” 

There we go. 

You seize and cry out, violent shivers forcing your back to arch high off the throne and into his chest plate. It tears through your being, quick and deadly through your core, spreading to every nerve and shredding through it with molten pleasure. Boba’s voice is a gravelly scrape that vibrates next to your ear, sprinting towards his own deserved euphoria. Your climax still boiling through your blood, is dragged out as Boba continues thrusting—an endless echo that leaves you incredibly oversensitive sore. For the next few moments, his thrusts are too sharp, the grip he has on you too abrasive—but then he’s cumming too. A couple more rough jabs and then he’s seating himself deep inside your cunt, his warm release coating your insides with thick ropes. 

You’re panting breaths fill the air between you, settling like fresh snow over a silent wood. By the time Boba pulls out, leaving behind a sticky trail of his cum and your arousal over the throne, you’re toeing the line of hazy unconsciousness. 

“Such a good girl,” Boba praises, threading fingers through hair and tracing the lines of your face. The the soft drone of his voice mixed with Din’s gentle baritone, murmuring something you don’t catch, casts a dreamy haze over your reality. You’re not afraid that this could back fire and blow up in your face—to move inches from two serrated blades, each seeking for a taste of blood and flesh, is always a risk. But yet, the calloused hands and the sweetness of brown eyes reach through chaos and silence to offer you salvation. You take it with a smile. 

You should invite Din over more often…you think, as you slip into content sleep. 

taglist: @goldafterglow @djxrxn @velvetmel0n @steeeeeeeviebb   @stargazingcarol @ohiobluetip @anxiety-riddled-mando @absurdthirst @thesoftdumbass @huliabitch @max--phillips @silverfish-kingdom @krissology @teaofpeaches @pettyprocrastination @nelba @beskars @jango-fettish @corrupt-fvcker @maybege @auty-ren @legally-a-bastard @bigdickdindjarin @thesparkleslugs @cryptid-candy @mandowhorian @pascaliprincess @mitchi-c @vesperstalksclones @cmakars @cptnbvcks @whewchiles @leias-left-hair-bun @astrochellie @angryares @rise-my-angel @stardust-galaxies @phoenixhalliwell @samhollandssweaters @blue-writes-a03 @hdlynnslibrary @darthadeline @calamity-queen @luxurybeskar @justanotherblonde23 @book-hoardingdragon @fahrenheit-not @princessxkenobi @skdubbs @ben-is-a-hoe @3strogen @chasingdreamer @weebblossom @bobaandthefetts​

sorry if I missed you AH!!!!

[trashcanfills]

Hero Killer Stain | Akaguro Chizome Relationship Headcanons

Yes I’m here to deliver.

The kind of person to only have very few friends. This guy ain’t the socialising type. I mean look at him he practically oozes lone wolf vibes. Not a people person for sure. He’s definitely socially awkward as fuck though thanks to his poker face that part of him isn’t obvious.

If you do manage to be friends with him though, oh boi where do I even begin?

He is an independent guy so expect like long ass periods of non-contact. He would occasionally check in on you to make sure that you are alive and doing well, sometimes with a text saying hes coming over. If you are lucky he might hang around for a while but apart from that he’s not gon do much (totally not because he’s socially awkward cough cough).

Really thoughtful as hecc. He’s not such an asshole to make any demands for you and your time. With how disillusioned he is with the current state of society, he’s going to cherish all the shit you have done for him, especially when you are one of the only ones who stayed with him despite the bloody path he has chosen.

Mention offhandedly about needing or wanting something? So long as he can afford it, it’s definitely going to appear on your table the next day without a trace of him left in your house. The kind to help around the house when he possibly can. Even if you try to deny his aid he’s not gonna budge at all cus he is one stubborn ass motherfucker. After some time you just give up and let him do what he wants. Though it is kinda funny to see the Hero Killer doing domestic stuff around your house.

However he can be a bit of an insensitive jerk at times. He judges a bit too hastily and makes wrongful assumptions. He also tends to believe that the fault lies within the person themselves whenever theres a problem, and will point it out if you asked for it.

This can result in arguments when you make mistakes or anything cus he will unintentionally make a comment that directly attacks you and your character. I can see that eventually you would reach a breaking point where you cry and/or scream at him about these hurtful comments. Yelling would of course devolve into an argument until you explain your feelings and situation to him such that he understands. Crying would just really hit in the realisation on how shitty his actions were and he would rectify that immediately by comforting you.

Hangouts typically consist of you guys sitting there in silence doing your own thing or watching a movie, or both of you engaging in philosophical discussion about today’s society. Yes because this is Stain we are talking about, expect the topic of False Heroes to come about. Once that happens, you would end up listening through his entire rant on False Heroes and their Unworthiness for the Hero title.

You definitely have engaged in debates with him on dealing with false heroes. He would be respectful of your views so long as they are well supported AND well-rounded arguments. Being one-sided esp towards the heroes would make him dismiss your views since it’s the same opinions adopted by the masses. Acknowledging and accepting that his views and ideals are valid would be a big deal for him, even if you disagree.

Sadly I’m not really sure if it would change much on his hero killing ways. To him, it’s the only solution he feels he could implement to best deal with false heroes, and it’s a necessary evil. Plus, he’s more of the take action guy. He can’t really just sit around, wait and think on what to do when there’s so much at stake. I find that it would be good for him to have a partner to hold him back and properly think through some stuff because of this, if he were to get into a romantic relationship. And speaking of that…

If you are in a romantic relationship with him, it’s just the above friendship qualities multiplied by 10 plus the couple things.

He WILL be a mother hen for his s/o. Regarding his friends, he tends to trust their ability to take care of themselves, only stepping in when needed to. Regarding his partner? He takes responsibility for their wellbeing. If their condition is less than perfect, he’s going to do something about it.

Accidentally cut yourself? He’s already grabbing the first aid kit. Sees you aren’t getting enough sleep? Prepared to be whooshed away and dumped on your bed. Stressed and anxious? He asks you to confide in him about your worries, and if you can’t, at least tell him how he can make you feel better.

God forbid someone lay a hand on you intending harm cus if Stain knows about it, he will straight up gut them. He will interrogate you if he sees an injury on you that’s unlikely to be an accident. He’s not going to budge until you tell him who did it to you, and even if you don’t, he WILL find out on his own. He might end up hurting someone innocent so it’s best if you tell him who did it to save him the trouble. And if they mysteriously disappear from your life, that’s only for the two of you to know :^)

He’s definitely not used to physical affection being the loner he is, so if you initiate and like give him a hug or a kiss he will get flustered and blue screen for a short while. He would also be tense when cuddling for the first few times, then relaxing a little bit afterwards. Uh don’t surprise tackle him out of nowhere unless you want to get slashed or chucked at a wall. As much as he loves to indulge in your affections, he still needs to keep his instincts honed for fighting. You never know when someone might decide to attack the both of you. (You tried to surprise hug him once. It ended up with you getting injured and him attending to your injuries while lecturing you a little about doing that AROUND A SERIAL KILLER WHO KILL HEROES for a LIVING)

But otherwise he doesn’t mind physical affection. He would grow to love it, and would gradually take initiative to touch you at any opportunity if you tell him you are open to it. This does become funny with his brilliant poker face, when you guys are doing your own thing and all of sudden he gets close to you to hug, smooch or cuddle. He gives absolutely no warning whatsoever. It never gets old. Your reactions to him doing this amuses him a lot.

Expect occasional heartfelt speeches on how much he loves you or how much you mean to him. Might not realise this himself but gOd he can be a sMOOTH motherfucker. He is good with words, and gENUINE about what he says about. He will pull off the how I saw the world as a dark ugly place until you came along speech shtick and there will be this Moment of you guys beholding each others presence. THATS how good he is. (I mean you heard him monologing while fighting Izuku, Tenya and Shouto like daamn)

He’s a very practical person and isn’t one to be sentimental. He can’t afford to be sentimental if it can jeopardise him and his loved ones in any way. He’s adamant on not keeping anything of his around in your house cus he doesn’t want you implicated or associated with his murders at all.

Somehow, if you both are really really deep into the relationship, I can see him letting both of you carrying rings from each other. Not worn around the ring finger of course cus that can attract unwanted attention, but rather it being attached to a chain necklace that both of you would have at all times.

It’s kind of a promise and dedication to you, in the sense that, if he could or if he had the chance to, he would have formally proposed to you. He hopes that he can if somehow he fulfils his personal mission, and if both of you can find somewhere peaceful and safe together.

Edit: Realised I forgot to add some stuff in lol, so dont mind that I add more points to this already long ass post. Im on mobile so apologies if formatting is weird.

[celestiagarden]

I can't actually explain how much i like those kazuha and Childe x sibling reader OmGGGGG. THEY ARE SO INTERESTING TO READ??!?! Could you please do something like.. uh kinda hard to explain haha. Like our hands got sore, scars and like cuts from harsh training in abbys. So Kazuha and Childe bandage them (<^-^>)

Characters: kazhua, childe, sibling!reader CW: mentions of injuries Notes: omg i dont know how you guys love the sibling hcs so much but aight lets go

Kazuha

bro have u seen all those damn bandages on kazuha's arm?? he knows what he's doing

lmao he's so careful. it could be the tiniest of cuts and kazuha is doing the MOST. desinfecting, applying ointment, the whole nines. he doesnt care how often you rough up your hands, he'll help you take care of them as long as you ask

and you know usually one would wonder why he's trying so hard for such tiny wounds. like its on your hands. it won't kill you or affect you, but its the fact that you got them in the abyss that bothers him

he may not have been there to stop you from getting hurt in the first place, but he's more than ready to be there for you after the fact, and as long as possible. it you and him against the world

Childe

childe just wants those wounds hidden as fast as possible. that's why he accepts to bandage them up. he's never made a habit of cleaning up his own wounds but for him he's ready to give it a try

he just doesn't want to look at those scars more than he has to. it's not that they're ugly. and if you ever think that's how he feels he'll nearly trip over himself to tell you different

it's just that they're a constant reminder of how he failed as your older brother. he was supposed to protect you. To protect you, Tonia, Anton and Teucer. And he's failed to do so for you. those scars are proof.

they just make him feel real bad about himself. Childe knows he isn't exactly a good person, but he was kind of hoping to redeem himself a little by being a good brother. Guess that went down the drain too

[whumpingcrow]

Pt.18 "Poor Thing"

CW: noncon (explicit, 18+ please), dubcon, blood mention, injury mention, multiple whumper mention, whumpee in a collar, death mention, captivity whump, panic attack, alcohol, verbal abuse, homophobic slur, creepy/intimate whumper, August is pretty foul in this chapter so general warning for him, slight dehumanization (let me know if I missed anything!)

August didn't want Elias anymore. That had to be what was happening. Why else would he not come looking for him, why else was he allowing him to be used up and abused by all these strangers in this room the entire night? It seemed like each time one person came in and did something to him, they would leave and tell someone else, and it felt like it had stretched on for hours, and still August never came looking for him. He felt dirty, sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, covered in a sheen of sweat and tears and blood and people's disgusting fluids. His shirt was torn in some places, his shorts riding low on his hips, the only thing that remained perfectly intact was the collar around his neck, which someone had tightened further at some point and he couldn't figure out how to loosen again. August didn't want him anymore, so he was giving him up to be used by whoever else wanted to use him. And that was more painful than anything that had been done to him the last hour or two.

When the door opened again, Elias could have let out an anguished scream, tell them to leave him the absolute fuck alone and suck themselves off or use their left hand, but all he had the energy for was a hopeless flinch. He didn't even want to look up, a fire went shooting up his neck and through his jaw when he moved his head. He closed his eyes when the person approaching crouched down in front of him. Maybe if they saw how tired he was, they would take the hint and leave him alone. Instead, he felt a few slender ice cold fingers wrap around his wrist, slowly lifting his hand away from his body.

"I...I can't," he sniffled weakly, his voice wobbly and far away, "please. Please, I can't." He said it without much conviction, all hope that anyone would be able to understand him was long gone, and so his begging had been reduced to tiny, feeble whines, for the most part.

The person let out a soft hushing sound, then something cool and smooth was pressed into his palm. When he got up the courage to open his eyes, he was surprised to see a glass of water being pushed into his hand. He looked up at the person, at the young woman with wild orange hair and a round face that he couldn't find any outright malicious intent behind. She let go of his wrist, then tipped the bottom of the glass until it fell against his lips. He didn't realize how thirsty he was until the cold liquid hit his parched throat, and he guzzled it down gratefully. It tasted better than anything he'd ever had, he felt tears in his eyes at how grateful he was for it.

"Are you hurt?" She finally asked him. Her accent was heavy, her voice low and silvery. He could openly sob at how kind she was speaking to him, and the fact that it was in English.

"Oh," he breathed, his chin dropping to his chest as he relaxed from the stress that was turning his muscles to stone, "p-please can you find...can you help me find August?" He begged.

"I...I can. But are you hurt? You're bleeding." As she said it, she reached out with the skirt of her dress and wiped away some blood from his mouth.

"I'm ok. Th-think I got slapped a couple times." He took a deep, shuddery breath, then all at once realized she wasn't going to hurt him and he felt an overwhelming relief set in, one that tore a broken sob through his throat. "Oh god. Jesus fuck."

"You're alright. Do you have a name?" She sunk back to a sitting position, one that probably would be considered unladylike in her flowing dress, and watched him carefully. He was confused as to why she was sitting at his level, looking right at him, having spent the last few hours with people towering over him or suffocatingly close on top of him. He saw her eyes flick down to his collar, the tag there, but she didn't say Bunny, she only looked back up at him expectantly and waited for him to answer himself. He loved her at that moment.

"It's Elias." He cried, using the back of his hand to wipe the tears and sweat and grime from his cheeks.

"Ok Elias. My name is Camille." She hesitated for a moment, then readjusted her skirt. "Can I get you anything?"

Elias shook his head quickly, sniffing a few times. "Please don't leave me alone in here," he was rushing, pleading, "someone else will find me, please don't leave me here-"

"Ok, ok," she soothed, "I won't." She shifted a little, glancing up at the door nervously. "You...You’re not supposed to be here, are you? You have somewhere else you call home, right?”

Elias blinked at her, beginning to tremble all over. He thought about the truth, that he only came so that he didn't have to see someone die for the second time, someone that he loved more than anything. Suddenly he couldn't breathe, couldn't see anything, hear anything, besides Tyson crying, bleeding, begging him not to leave, as if he had a choice. He wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms, but he also knew August wouldn't just leave it at that, he would come back and hurt them both. He wasn’t worth all the pain and trouble, Tyson deserved better.

"I...I want to go home but it's not s-safe." He covered his face with shaking hands, trying to mute his frightened sobs.

"Why isn't it safe, Elias?" Timidly, she leaned forward, rubbing gently at his arm to try and calm him.

"August will hurt me... he'll hurt me and Tyson if I go back home. It's easier if I just stay here." Even as he said it, rushing the words out like he was afraid August would come and hear him speaking ill of him, his shoulders shook with his cries and he could hardly stay sitting upright.

Now Camille was silent, then she quickly pulled him against her chest and held him close, stroking through his unruly hair. The whines of despair he let out made her chest ache with pity, and she couldn't do enough to comfort him. She was so frightened for him, this was beyond what she was used to seeing, a person being kept in this condition. He was so torn up, so traumatized and haunted, and she didn't really want to think about what had been done to him before she found him. She'd heard others mumbling about a new toy in the other room, had heard “pet” thrown around a few times, but she didn't expect a person. And in this state, she could never live with herself if she just left him here.

"Listen to me," she began, using all of her might to keep her tone calm and even, "I'm going to help you. Where's your home?"

He was so tense and rigid in her arms, she could practically feel the conflict he had about telling her, he wanted to leave but he was so afraid, and she could feel his hopelessness starting to drip off of him and soak through her dress and onto her, too. "In Los Angeles," he breathed, "w-with Tyson Banks."

"Ok. I'll find him, and then I'll come back for you. Ok? Can you wait for me?"

He wept again, forcing himself to nod his head. He could wait, if it meant he could get back to Tyson, get home, he could wait.

She pulled away from him then, telling him that she would leave the room so that he could calm down. He felt better when she promised she would wait just outside the door for him, make sure no one would come in to bother him, and he could come to her if he needed anything.

The room was silent for the few moments that Elias was alone, and he could hear the laughter and loud voices of the drunk people through the walls. He couldn't comprehend how any of them could be having such a good time after seeing him in the state he was in now. He guessed that it was different to them, that it felt good to be the one in control, but he still felt baffled by it.

He didn't have much time to dwell on it before the door was swinging open. August stomped in, throwing a bitter look at Camille, who had foolishly just tried to convince him to stay out of the room. He shut the door behind him hard, then approached Elias with his face set in a frown.

"Where have you been?" He grumbled, taking in Elias’s newly disheveled state. "What happened to you?"

His tone was angry, and Elias realized then that August hadn't known what was happening, that what he allowed all of those people to do to him was wrong, and his lungs burned in newfound anxiety.

"I'm s-so sorry, August!" Elias cried, reaching up to grab at August's shirt to try and steady himself. His apology was desperate, despite how he couldn't force it to be very loud. He pulled himself to his wobbly knees with a huff. "I didn't want to do an-any of it but you told me...you told me I was made to be used and they wouldn't listen to me b-b-but I tried I t-"

"Shut up, Eli," August snapped at him, setting him on the edge of the bed and staring at him hard. Elias tried to sit straight, to not look so god damn used up and ugly, but he didn't think there was much he could do to pull that off, his grime felt heavily visible. August's voice was gravelly when he spoke again. "Who did this to you?" He looked over Elias again, shaking his head disdainfully at him when he was still silent, then snapped, "who the fuck did this?!"

Elias flinched, his eyes squeezing shut so he wouldn't have to see the strike he felt was coming. "I don't know! E-everyone! People just kept coming in and...and then when they left more people... I do-dont know!" He froze when August walked toward him, grabbing his shoulders aggressively as he did.

"What did they do?" Now his voice was eerily steady and calm, and he sounded bitterly furious, and Elias was shaking in every inch of his body. "What did they do to you?"

Having to think about it again, about the hands and the noises and the bodies and the constant breathlessness made Elias panicky again, and with an anguished sob he became pliable in August's bruising grip, subjecting himself to any punishment August saw fit. "E...everything." He cried, whimpering at how August's fingers pressed harder into the soft skin of his arms. "I'm s-so sorry!"

When August tossed him to the ground, he couldn't help the loud shriek of pain that he let out. He was already so tired and sore, he couldn't even peel himself off of the carpet once he was down. He felt...broken. Pathetic.

"You really are just a stupid fucking idiot, aren't you?!" August shouted at him, his voice erratic and full of poison. Elias had heard him angry before, sure, but he didn't think he'd ever heard this much fury in his words. He must have really messed up. Terror tightened around his lungs when August crouched down and grabbed the collar with both hands, yanking him forward until their faces were intimidatingly close and Elias could smell the alcohol on August's breath. "Does this mean nothing to you?! You are mine, you pathetic little faggot!"

He should apologize, he knew he should beg and plead and say that he was sorry because he was so disgusting and horrid, but he couldn't get any words out, he couldn't even breathe. He was completely paralyzed, aside from the horrible trembling, blown eyes staring into August's face as tears spilled down his cheeks. With hands at his throat and his windpipe uncomfortably crushed, he felt an icy dread, a realization that he wouldn't be saved this time, this time death would take him and keep him, and he was afraid. That girl, Camille, was going to help him, she said. She couldn't help him if he was dead.

"P...please, August," he finally forced out in a whisper, barely audible. "I-I-I’m so s-sorry, August. I'm y-yours, I know tha-that. Ple-please."

People were still laughing just outside. August was breathing heavily, Elias hardly at all, and for a moment, couldn't have been longer than one thud of Elias's wild heartbeat, August looked just as frightened as Elias felt.

Maybe it was how quiet Elias was, how he could barely get the words out, how horribly he was shaking and utterly unable to do anything to fight back or struggle, or maybe a combination of them all; but something about the way Elias was so pitifully shattered made August just...let go of him, dropping him back to the ground with a deep, tired sigh. He stood up, looking down at Elias as he curled into himself and choked out a few feeble whimpers. He stayed down for a few more moments, then he forced himself back up to his feet with a breathless whine, feeling August's interested gaze on him as he stumbled forward. August was waiting for him to topple over, with how run down he looked. He looked just about on his last leg, like a wounded beyond recovery animal that should be put out of his misery. August was starting to hate himself for selfishly keeping him alive in these conditions. Poor thing.

"They hurt you?" August asked, although his voice was only vaguely interested. Elias ignored the question entirely and instead nestled into August’s chest, not even caring that he didn't reciprocate the touch.

"M'sorry," he sighed heavily, closing his eyes, "s-so sorry, August."

With a disgruntled hum, August moved Elias away from him and started to undo the buttons on his shirt, watching him start to squirm, physically overwhelmed by the fear of being touched anymore than he had already been that night. He was silent, didn't have the means to beg August not to, but his body language practically screamed don't do this to me please no more I can't take it.

"Not gonna do anything, Bunny," August assured him, pulling his ruined shirt off of his slender shoulders carefully, "you're filthy, just gonna clean you off." Now that he was looking him over without the haze of anger over his eyes, he could really see how scared he looked, and he was appalled at himself on Elias's behalf. To be used and hurt and defiled by all those strangers, and here August had wanted to take it out on him, make him think it was his fault. Somewhere in his explanation he mentioned how August had said he existed to be used, he was only doing as he was told, how dare August punish him for that? And he couldn't be too sure, but he did sound remorseful with his apology, like he truly believed he was in the wrong, even though August knew he wasn't. Usually he loved when Elias was apologetic like this, but now it seemed to weigh so heavily on him and it was only depressing and bleak, not tragically beautiful like usual.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper with you," he said grudgingly, stroking Elias’s hair back and out of his face. His fingertips caught in a few knots and tugged just a little, and Elias flinched. "I'm just...I'm pretty drunk and I was upset that you'd disappeared."

Elias winced at the apology, like he couldn't handle the idea that August was in the wrong. "I told them I didn't want to. I said that you wouldn't like it, that I shouldn't, they didn't listen to me-"

"Angel," August cut him off, swiping at the tears on his cheek, "Elias, listen to me sweetheart. You're alright, I shouldn't have reacted that way." Elias whined in response, refusal to accept the obviously misplaced apology written all over his face. August could see the distant storm clouds of panic cycling back across Elias's face, in the way his eyebrows twitched and his eyes darted around the room, blinking furiously.

"N-no, I messed up. I messed up and I'm so fucking sorry I'm so sorry August ple-" before he could escalate back into hysteria, August pulled him into a tight embrace, swaying him side to side slowly. Every now and then a tremor made him collapse further into the hug, and he let out a small, pathetic mewl, and August wondered if it hurt to stand. Instead of asking, he just scooped him up into his arms and took him to the bed, holding him to his chest as he sank down to the mattress.

Because of the way he answered, August wasn't sure exactly what all those people had done to him, but it must have taken quite a toll on him, because within 15 minutes he was asleep, melted against the bed and August's chest heavily. August could feel Elias's fingers twitching slightly as he stroked his fingertips over his skin and through his hair melodically, telling himself it was just to make up for all the harshness of the past few hours, pretending he wasn't enjoying holding him so close and touching him so innocently.

He tried to ignore the buzzing of people just outside for a little longer, pretend that all the intolerable people weren't really there, drinking his booze and messing up his house like they hadn’t just put Elias through hell, but he had to slide out from under Elias eventually to get them to leave. He was glad that there were only a handful of stragglers left, all left with no issue. He poured himself another drink and forced himself to tidy up a little, but he couldn't find the motivation in his drunk, distressed state. Instead he went back to the bedroom, shedding his own clothes with exasperated grunts here and there, surprising himself by not spilling the drink in his hand.

He stopped in the doorway of the second guest room, observing Elias sleeping for a few minutes. He was still in the collar, his frail arms wrapped around himself to replace the warmth that left when August did. He wondered if Elias was really sorry, if he really believed he belonged to August, if any of what he said in his panicked or tortured states were true. He wanted it to be, he wanted his twisted pet to be devoted to him only, to need him, to ache for him, that was the point of all of this, wasn't it?

After he polished off his drink, he crawled slowly on top of Elias, watching him stir just a little before settling back into sleep. He kissed his nose gently, then his cheek, watching his lips twitch slightly when he kissed him there, then he let out a soft hum when August kissed his shoulder. His body was clinging onto sleep still, he probably wasn't even aware of the minuscule sounds he was making every time August's lips pressed into his skin. It was when his mouth was against Elias's rib cage, lapping at the rapid thumping of his heart and the uneven rise and fall of his breath, that he finally woke up, his hands dragging along the sheets until his fingers brushed against August's wrist.

"What are you doing?" He grumbled, his nose wrinkling as he forced himself into consciousness. He blinked a few times, looking fearfully up at August.

“I feel awful about what happened,” August mumbled, trailing his thumb down Elias’s sternum teasingly to his naval, “And I bet you none of those bastards even thought about making you feel good, huh? They all took whatever they wanted and didn’t think twice about you, right?”

A light blush caught on his tired face, and Elias had to tilt his head back because when August was looking up at him, so close, eyes hooded with alcohol and lust, it was too damn hard to look at him head on. He let out a soft sigh, too exhausted to beg August not to keep touching him and talking to him that way. "R...right."

"Poor thing. It's a damn shame, for them," he continued, "they don't know how much fun it is to make you feel good." He ran his palm the rest of the way down his stomach until his fingers latched onto the waistband of his shorts, tugging at them lazily.

"August I-" he began, but he was silenced as August reached up to hold his face. There was no use protesting, there never was. And August had been so unbelievably angry earlier, Elias didn't want to risk setting him off. He had to play it safe, he reminded himself, had to survive until Camille came back for him. He took his bottom lip into his mouth, could taste blood from the busted part of his mouth when he did.

"You can sleep if you want, Bunny. You just lay back and relax, let me take care of you." His finger trailed over Elias's throat, just above the tight collar he still had on, watching him quiver at the touch with a grin. Finally, he offered a reluctant nod, turning his head to the side in a sort of surrender.

August was still drunk, so it didn't take long for his touches to go from trying to make Elias feel better to selfishly toying with him. He had said Elias could sleep, but the closest he got to that was closing his eyes tight and pretending he wasn't awake, or there, or alive at all, feeling tears streaming down his cheeks. August didn't care that he was crying, in face at one point he leaned over and kissed a few of the tears away, whispering something of a lewd compliment in his ear.

Elias tried to convince himself that, despite how it felt, August using him like this was different than the others, better in a way. August knew him, there was some type of affection behind it, something besides sick lust. But even though he wanted to believe that, when his eyes were closed, August was just another body, taking what it wanted, making itself feel good at Elias's expense. Elias wondered if that's all he was, too, just on the other end of the spectrum, he was just a body to be used.

At one point, he really did fall asleep, his body too exhausted to stay awake, even more tired out from struggling against August every now and then. He lay under August, head tilted back and brow furrowed slightly, tiny whines and breathless moans were slipping past his partly opened mouth. August pulled off of him soon after that, pulling the blanket over the both of them, holding Elias close against his chest as he slept. Against his better judgement, he left the collar on, listening to Elias's weak gasps as he tried to breathe around it. He'd slip it off later, he just wanted to enjoy it for a little longer. That was his dynamic with Elias, after all, forcing him through pain and discomfort until it was too much, and then more, just for good measure. Through his drunken haze, August felt pride in his work, in how much he'd broken him down. All of the guilt he felt days ago for how much he'd hurt him was gone then, replaced by a warm and fuzzy fondness. He watched his perfectly trained pet sleep for awhile longer, than eventually the booze carried him into a dark and dreamless rest as well.

[buttterknifeee]

I posted 192 times in 2021

134 posts created (70%)

58 posts reblogged (30%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.4 posts.

I added 373 tags in 2021

#tim drake - 50 posts

#batman - 48 posts

#dc comics - 41 posts

#batfam - 41 posts

#dick grayson - 41 posts

#robin - 38 posts

#dc headcanon - 32 posts

#dc universe - 28 posts

#headcanon - 27 posts

#bat man - 27 posts

Longest Tag: 70 characters

#literally writing this because i want relatable asian rep in dc so bad

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

HC that tim and damians sibling relationship is more like death threats to deciding what to eat for dinner in the span of one conversation.

"I hate you so much i hope you die in your sleep"

"Well at least when I'm dead i don't have to see your ugly face"

"ugh I'm kinda hungry tho"

"hey theres this pizza place that just opened up"

"sounds good we should go"

333 notes • Posted 2021-06-04 05:53:31 GMT

#4

When u make fake batfam social media screenshots normalize everyone else having popular/verified accounts and stuff and jason posting from a different burner account each week. (because he’s, yk, legally dead)

He has like 500 accounts that are like “user 34829759838″ with no pfp. And all the batkids interact with all of his accounts like its normal and everyone outside the family are confused af

446 notes • Posted 2021-04-19 06:45:10 GMT

#3

dc give dick grayson a helmet challenge man has been through too many head related injuries/deaths

501 notes • Posted 2021-05-03 05:20:46 GMT

#2

Happy birthday to that tim guy I've had a hyperfixtation on for the past 4 months. I hope they finally make you an adult and give you a mullet again.

Yes this is my art no reposts or u will suffer

871 notes • Posted 2021-07-19 15:22:30 GMT

#1

I roast you based on which batboy you have a crush on

this is all joke btw pls dont murder me in my sleep

Bruce:

you’re either a millenial or you’re into dilfs

you think you’re the therapist friend

you think you’d be the “cool mom” when you get kids

But you’re the wine aunt

or you said you liked bruce unironically but now you actually like him

Dick

touch starved

you’ve never met a “nice guy” who was actually nice and you want that in a relationship

you’re sad right now i can feel it

I dont think you like reading

Jason

you see your first mistake was having a crush on someone with a j name-

please lower your voice 

To sum it up people who crush on jason remind me of this ex friend named Sophia who gave me trauma

no i will not elaborate

You like to focus on the fact that people say jason likes poetry not the part where he kills people often

Tim

you’ve never met a guy who is equal/ greater than you in terms of intelligence and wasnt a dick about it

hopeless romantic but has never had a boyfriend

you probably also like timothee chalamet or other white boys of the month

You might need to see a therapist idk

Damian

How are your grades?

you probably are a daminette enthusiast because you project onto marinette LMAO 

Why do you fall for guys who don’t care about you

get off of minecraft and get your life together

enfp

Duke

Im cutting you guys some slack bc there’s NO duke content ever

youre either a middle child or lonely tho

Alfred

god fears you

1623 notes • Posted 2021-04-11 07:35:15 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[atiny-exol]

Mafia Ateez reaction to their s/o fighting a person out of jealousy

Warnings: strong language, blood, fighting, s/o gets harmed, ateez gets mad or not, some mature things

A/N: I really had fun writing this request. I hope you also have fun reading this.

Requested: Yes.

_____________________________

Hongjoong

He steps in the room, his eyes are sticking on your slightly hurt body sitting on the couch.

His look is mad, slightly angry but most importantly, concerned.

The look pierced through your skin and after some time you looked up at him, giving him your best smile with your bruised lip and broken nose.

The fight was a bad idea, that's for sure.

Hongjoong doesn't even have to say it.

,,Sometimes I ask myself why you bring yourself in situations like that. What the purpose of that? Do you want to scare me?"

The emotions in the room are thick and the words slipped out of his mouth with so much irony and concern, that you felt bad for doing something as stupid as this.

But the jealous feeling just rushed over you, as you saw how this girl tried to flirt with him during a meeting.

It was dangerous, but you would always do it again. Even if your fiance would be mad with you.

Your smile widen and you giggled softly at his words. Even if he tried to hide his small smile, you could see it clearly forming on his facials. Yeah, you would do it again, if that means you can show him how much he means to you. ,,I'm not stupid. I just knew that she didn't have a chance against me. Not just in the fight." and with that both of you began to giggle.

Seonghwa

A bad feeling hits him as soon as he left you alone in the room with her

Woth who? With his ex wife of course.

Yeah he left her for you and now he had to make some silly little deals with her. Everything on a business level of course.

I mean that's how he sees it.

But she. Yeah she tried to flirt with him, giving him hints of taking him back and telling him the advantages of a marriage between them.

And as he came back 5 minutes later, he wasn't even surprised that you layed on top of her. Making her already ugly face even uglier.

,,Y/N. Baby. What did I say about violence against someone who is weaker than you?"

With an cold expression he looked down on his ex wife, before he softly helped you to get up. ,,The next time, you don't do that yes baby?" With a soft smile you nodded at him, laying your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. Fully blending the annoying screaming of his ex wife out. Both of you knew that you would do it again.

Yunho

Going to a club with you was always fun. Until you got so drunk that you begin to do stupid things.

And the most stupid thing you did this night, was fighting with some silly girls, because they tried to approach Yunho.

And Yunho is annoyed. More than annoyed.

He pulled you away and apologized for you, before he throws you over his shoulder and went home with you.

The next day, as soon as you mind worked like a decent person again he will scold you.

,, Really sweetheart I will never go there with you again. You are so stupid when you are drunk. Unbelievable."

He didn't mean it, both of you know that. He just doesn't want you to get in a dangerous situation again.

But he likes it in a strange type of way.

,,Y.. Yunho please I-" ,,I'm still not talking to you unless you say yourself that this whole thing was super stupid." His voice interrupts you and he shot you a dangerous glare. You only responded with a smile. ,,But you just talked to me." ,,... Now say it.. I don't want to ignore you anymore."

San

With a wide smile he shoves another hand of popcorn on his mouth. Watching you how you beat the ass of the stranger.

You both just wanted a small movie night and now he has a better movie than he expected.

He isn't really concerned about you.

Why?

Because he trained you. There is no way that this idiotic person hits you, or even worse beats you in a fight.

Proud of you, if you come back with a smile.

,,That's my kitten! I knew you would show them what it means to flirt with me."

Cuddles and kisses as a gift for the win.

You giggling rings in his ears and he gently petted your head, playfully placing the popcorn between his lips before he placed his lips on yours. The kiss was rough, but soft at the same time and just as you broke the kiss a huge smirk appeared on your and on Sans face.,,You look so hot while you fight for me love." ,,I look even more hot moaning under you. So you better hurry up to get me home."

Mingi

As soon as you get hit once, he would pull you away. His protective side would come out immediately and his gaze would turn dark.

Shots a dangerous look at them, to make them shut up and carries you bridal style home.

Doesn't talk a tiny bit with you, even if you apologize or do something else.

At home he would check if you are okay, still not talking.

After that he gets up and turns around.

,,You really don't have to prove anything darling. Even if someone flirts with me, I don't want them. So don't do it again. It's ridiculous."

Walks away. Leaving you alone

You would probably have to apologize and shower him with kisses so he stops to pout.

,,Mingiiiii" you complained as you placed another kiss on his cheek, trying to get his attention again. ,,I'm sorry.. How often do I have to tell you that." right after that he looked at you with a dark glare, his face just an inch away from yours. ,,Until you learn that this could have end worse! It's cute that you try to protect what is yours. But hell Y/N you never know who you are fighting against."

Yeosang

Mad, angry and slightly disappointed.

You both attended a fancy party together, so of course Yeosang had to deal with some business things.

One of these business things was talking with a woman, a really handsome woman in your eyes. But that wasn't the problem.

No the problem was the way she touched him while talking, how her hands would ,,unintentionally" meet his or how her hand restes a little bit longer than necessary on his shoulder.

One or two or maybe five drink later. (the boys tried to distract you, but alcohol maybe wasn't the right thing)

You got very and I mean very presumptuous towards this lady. And before anyone could react.

You made a scene infront of everyone. She wasn't just anyone. She was very skilled in fighting and so you end up injured. If it wasn't for Yeosang, she might have killed you.

But yeah he saved you. Carried you to the car and drove home with you. The car ride was silent, just like the time you stepped in your home.

He ignored you, but then helped you with your injuries.

,,The next time I don't help you. God why are you so stupid huh? This is totally ruining my reputation. You should know better than behaving like that. You aren't 4 years old anymore."

After that he gets up and went to the room, slamming the room shut and letting you handle the whole situation on your own.

Silent tears run down your cheek as soon as you heard the loud noise of Yeosang slamming the door. He was right. You weren't 4 years anymore, you are grown up and should known better than doing something like that. But even if it's your fault, he as your finance should not just blame you, he should have helped you more too right now. You are hurt, not just from the fight. But by the way he treats you too.

Wooyoung

Just like San he would be proud. Like really proud.

You get everything you want after you little fight, but he is also responsible. So he would scold you too.

,,You know, the way you hit this person wasn't really good for your hand. You could have really injured yourself. I have to train you more."

Smiles, kisses but also a cute reminder that you don't need to be jealous on the first place.

Buys you ice creams and tells you how much he loves you. Isn't interested when he men give him a confused look. Because Wooyoung isn't so soft normally.

Let you sit on his lap after your fight and keeps you close, so you don't have to fight anyone again.

His fingers draw small circles on your back as you happily eat your ice cream. You dont even care what wooyoung is talking about with his men right now. The only thing that matters is, that he isn't mad at you and that you finally got all of his attention. With a small side look, you glared at the person who earlier go beat up by you. They would never do this mistake again.

Jongho

Super surprised as he was how you fought with someone. He didn't even realize that someone flirted with him.

If the person is hurting you, he doesn't hesitate to pull his gun out

No one is going to hurt you, even if you started the physical fight

,,What do you think you are doing to my fiancé/fiancée."

Pulls you away and scolds you, but also kinda red when you explain why you fought

Hugs you tightly and giggles like a little school girl

But quickly his serious face is back

Tells you to never do this again, he might have killed this person

,,I'm sorry.. I won't do it again Jongho.. Please don't ve mad at me now." You said with a sad smile as you saw his serious face. But your concerns immediately vanished as his sweet giggle rings in your ears. Confused of why he is giggling, you stand infront of him. ,,I'm not mad at you. Why would I? Because you fought over me? Nooo it's cute."

[ibelonginthepast]

okay I need your klance fic recs(i feel like you have really good taste)(i mean your icon is literally THE keith of course you have god tier taste)

okay so the thing is.. that when i say am kinda messed up and disgusting sometimes... and becoming a madwoman... am not over exaggerating or saying it in a funky way.. i actually am getting like that .. and that's how i got into the klance fandom initially. i project through lance and read really langsty fics.. and they are messed messed with like violent nsfw, gore, horror, serious mental health issues etc? so if u want those... i'll only send them if u want?

yeah tho i entered with this thingy that klance is gonna be like my guilty pleasure or some shit but them i inevitably fell in love with some GORGEOUS fanfictions out there and KEITH KOGANE in all shapes sizes genders and ages so lol...

but they aren't flowery. that's just not my taste. Some of them might be "problematic"? it's in quotes because i don't agree with it. it's not going to be problematic in plain ignorant sense like racial issues or blatant sexism or mental abuse.... but they might have like stuff which people dont always agree with like drugs. most of them would have nsfw it's just something that i need to have for feels and that's why i asked if u minded it. some things are like more subjective,, characterizations for example, cause like some people dont think keith is a skirt guy cause he isnt in fashion but i think he is petty and rebellious so he will defo do that? some of them would have like physical fights and stuff.. or keith and lance being mean to each other.. some ugly habits which aren't necessarily condemned like anger or drugs.? but with how i see it, it's not glorified, so i see them as human. i love the raw and ugly in these or idk its just human to me (but some people dont like which is completely valid cause we are all different from different environments and think different and resonate with different stuff.)

wait addition: i think some of them will have sexist themes? which i have complained about a lot before. i dont know why authors feel the need to somehow put women down to show how a mlm relationship without any women is superior or some shit it's annoying as fuck i hate it. i dont think i would have any especially sexist fics here, but there might be some with lowkey themes and bad handling of those issues. some of them mau have that subtext of disgusting heteronormative standards, but in subtext uk like bottom lance having a small waist and being giggly and all in contrast to big bulk keith.

here are some that i had bookmarked... but i may remember some more and then send them to u and or add them here...

a heads up.. i dont remember all of them very well. its been a while and i read fanfictions A LOT so yeah.. incase one slips up here which isnt very good am sorry dont judge me

the bold ones are the ones u should really check out if our taste is similar.

to begin with plain f l u f f,, my first klance bookmark was How Could I Say No? by Padfoots_Pawprint. tws for violence, bullying, injury BUT it's not actually gory or something like that it's just keith being keith and getting hurt and lance helping my boi like he should. it made me feeeeeeeel ksksk

this was one that kinda really touched me,, Wasted youth, Cryptids, and Waterboys by Baea THIS HAS EXPLICIT NSFW in it, the first chapter kicks off with it.. its a good fuck buddies to lovers in my opinion.. i love the writing style, the choice of how it's just a couple entries of random days in their lives. i love keith's characterization.. he is a hobo and a conspiracy nerd.. i love how down for him lance is, very dedicated. i love their growth.. i love how they help each other grow,, and it's so like real and usual day to day and human and down to earth idk how else to express it. this is INCOMPLETE. it's 12 chapters and discontinued as of now,, but it's not a deadly cliffhanger

similar in style and approach to the above. tho i think here is where it gets dubious. Easy, Tiger. by @/WhatTheBodyGraspsNot ... this is INCOMPLETE too and as of now discontinued. this has that sorta murky vibe with it's drug usage, them being teenagers in school and engaging in stuff like this, bad boy keith and all. this has nsfw too. i just remember really liking it and its very raw and unfiltered. tho it's incomplete it's not an open ending for now.

okay so i am restarting this but am upset as fuck that it all got deleted so i am gonna be lazy and not put as much effort as i did.

i have also Crowd Pleaser bookmarked by the same author,, this one's complete and it has some serious issues around gaslighting if i remember correctly... i really liked it then. keith is literally an angel here, i want to kidnap him and marry him literally. the s h w ee t e s t shit ,, and i like how lance gives him all the support and space to get his shit together

Drummer boy by klancekorner,, i think it's similar to the prev one, but lance's pov(which is what i prefer ngl). this authors fanfics are all just wholesome. i had put links to all their fics before, but imma now just say that u should go and check all their fics out. i have them all bookmarked, i must have seen something in them (can't remember what now tho and i cant be bothered to skim through them like last time *rolls eyes*)

War of hearts? idk why honestly, just ik keira has made me gay, and lesbian rejection angst? garrison? yes :) it's incomplete, conveniently left at the point where lance's heart is broken lol

Fuck buddies with benefits. THE NAME IS BAD I KNOW but i just love the idea of a dedicated mess of a keith and lance taking care of him. that's it that's the fic if i remember correctly. oh wait yeah u might think keith is not treating lance right, but i think it's fine if lance is treated a bit stupid. this is a bit too sex driven tho i dont like it but just SLEEPDEPRIVED KEITH TO TAKE CARE OF IMMA SIGN UP (ik this maybe coming off toxic but lol look at me)

Rambling: THIS WAS ME.

Last Defense: TW SUICIDE this is literally the langst i have for canon lance

I want something else: bad boy keith can break my limbs and cut my face and i will thank him

A thank you would be nice: keira damn

game-set-match: b a d b o y

I swear to go the devil made me do it: my typically fav trop, hardcore pining lance, literally perfect angsty keith. very similar to the top ones ig? idk also this one is one of my comparatively recent sane bookmarks so that's something. it starts off weird, u think it gon be subtly sexist but it turns out better so hold on

you've got me locked up: i think it's delinquent keith,, its floofy

Dad lance and tattoo artist keith: the name says it

damn while going through my bookmarks i realized that there are a lot of things i never bookmarked? i am pretty sure i loved a lot of long fanfictions, flower shop aus and tattoo artists shit wtf-

wait here's one, it's not complete: Blood jumps in the sun: it's very heavy has a lot of growth and kinda wholesome,, tags and summary will give u an idea what u getting in.

The lessons we learned: can't remember much other than florist keith, sad keith, smart keith, really long, pining

damn i think i have a lot of happy ones i didn't bookmark cause my brain was like u dont deserve the serotonin :( i'll add if i have more)

some actually angsty, detailed nsfw and messy (according to the way u interpret these) ones... lemoninagin.. they have some very detailed and explicit nsfw stuff but i am not there for it. some of it has the kind of angst i like? an actual one that i love and they recently posted and the reason am putting them here is infinitesimal. best friends to lovers and tho usually it's not my cup of tea.. it's a character study, an interpretation of klance in a modern world i dare say,, which is very similar to mine. the thing about them is that i like their characterization a lot, and in no love in this, i like what kind of background stories they give to klance in their aus. i haven't read many by them, so if u want u can check them out.

i just realized i have put some lowkey sad/fucked fics here... i did remove 5 rn... i hope its all good damn why am i doing this i feel like am putting myself naked out there when i recommend my favs

[avellanas-nutty-empire]

Silent Love Part 1

ahrsncknrkcnd this is my first time posting fanfiction and my second time writing it dont judge. After watching the umbrella academy season 2 i have become obsessed with the swedish triplets smh.

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Pairing: Axel x Irish!OC

Summary: So basicaly  the oc is an irish dancer in her 30′s working at this pub in like spring of 1990, and as she was taking out the trash this lil swedish girl runs to her in the alleyway for help

i have like a whole ass list of plot points thats probably gonna be written in parts so i dont have to deal with writing time skips so much. i literaly just finished writing this like 5 minutes ago so no judging! things will make more sense as i post more parts (i hope at least) plz reblog and/or comment with feedback i have no idea how to write fanfiction BUT I DO IT FOR THE SWEDES

ANYWAYS HERE U GO *shoves writing in ur face and runs away*

EDIT: plz note that when I started writing this, it was an x reader fic but after posting part 5 I decided to change it and here is a link to the post I made explaining why.

Skinny arms struggle to lift the bag into its large container, but once over the rim a small push is all that's needed to get it inside. When the lid closes on the large container, a little girl runs right past and hides behind the trash bin, a pleading look in her eyes as much louder footprints come to a stop behind the two girls. Your red hair flings around as you turn your head to look at the culprit of the child's fear.

“Well well well, aint I lucky yous was here to secure my-”

“You aint welcome here, and you know it Dick.” Daggers shoot out of your eyes at the man standing before you.

“Hey now-” He attempts to continue before you cut him off again.

“Get out of here now before things get ugly. Nothing has to happen” 

“Unfortunately I can't do that, (F/N)-” He takes a step forward

“Don't call me that!” You spit out with fire as he continues getting closer

“All that little brat has to do is answer my question in English-”

“Not everyone speaks-”

“Stop interrupting me, garlic” With a single shove you collapse on the ground next to the small girl, who calls out in swedish. “Shut your trap or I'll make you!” Quickly, you hoist yourself up by your forearms.

“Listen...” Dick says, crouching in front of you. “Keep getting in my way and see where that gets you”

“You’re the one in my way” You quip back.

“The girls safety...” He slowly reaches a hand out towards you. “...is not of your concern, thief” His hand wraps itself around your right ankle as the other one sets down next to your left, his face now inches from your own.

“I’ve stolen nothing you haven't lost yourself” 

“Enough!” Your attacker turns his head back to look at the source of the gruff accented voice to see a tall man with white hair. Next to you, the girls face brightens with relief. 

“Whoah there, mister. We’s was just havin’ a... small disagreement is all” The new man takes a few steps closer. “This young miss here wants to go out and find the girls parents, but I insisted on doin’ it myself since it's not safe for girls at night on there own you see”

“Leave... them... alone” The man says, spacing out his words so it's easier to understand his swedish accent.

“...I can't do that, Mister” Dick says with a small chuckle, reaching for something. As soon as you see the gun, you’re fast to kick the back curved side of his knees, causing him to topple forward to the ground. Quickly, you reach out for the weapon that fell on the ground, but Dick is quicker and lands a strike on your temple, knocking you to the ground again as the small girl shrinks further into her hiding spot behind the big trash container.

In an instant, the swedish man is besides you, picking up Dick by his neck and flinging him with ease away from the three of you. 

“Leave” His accent is thick through the single word, and Dick quickly scrambles up to stand. Through your blurry vision, you see an arm raise and your head thumps while the sound of a gunshot rings throughout the alleyway, rickashaying off the brick wall behind you as the bullet lands close to your face with a harmless clatter.

You close your eyes and place your hands over your ears in an attempt to stop the ringing loud noises; curling up into a ball on the floor, you attempt to calm down your mind and senses from going haywire with adrenaline. How could today get any worse. You think to yourself as small hands place themselves on your arms and shoulders, trying to shake you alert. Eventually, a bigger hand joins in nudging you slightly; at that point you open your eyes to see the white haired man who saved you, kneeling before you with red on his forearm.

“Man... is... gone” He says slowly, offering a hand to pull you up. Reaching out tentatively to grab it, he helps to slowly hoist you up and on your feet again (along with some v cute assistance from the little girl).

“Thank you... so much, Sir. Are you her family?” You ask, brushing dust and dirt off you clothes while looking from her to him. It's then that you fully take notice of the blood slipping down his arm. “Oh dear, that needs to be cleaned up” You say, gesturing to it. “Let's get you both inside and check for injuries” You start moving to walk towards the back door of the pub, but your vision goes blurry for a bit and the man grabs hold of your arm to keep you balanced; together the three of you help each other inside for some medical treatment and bandages.

ajtnekbjs things arent capitalized when they should be just ignore it ill probably fix it later. also i have no idea how to spell so ignore that too. tumblr isnt the best at correct word spell suggestions