#i told him i hoped it was him and i feel so fucking stupid for saying anything

[holylulusworld]

Gap Filler (2)

Summary: Lack of communication leads to fallout.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, Walter being a douche, break-up, mentions of break-ups, amends, angry reader, unplanned pregnancy

A/N: A short drabble to the miniseries.

Gap Filler (1)

Walter feels like he’s losing his mind. He’s pacing the room, driving the lab assistant crazy. She huffs and shakes her head. Not only does Walter ask for an unauthorized analysis, but he also gets on her nerves.

“Sir, the results won’t come faster if you keep on walking holes into the ground. It will take as long as it takes.”

“I’ll be back in half an hour and need the results by then,” he huffs and turns to leave. “I know you’re not happy that I called in a favor. This is an important, life-changing event. So please, hurry up. I need to be sure if I bring something for the baby too.”

She furrows her brows but says nothing. Three years ago, Walter did her a favor without asking questions. She will do the same for him to pay him back and to be even with the grumpy detective.

“Half an hour,” she nods. “Got it.”

“…and?” Walter expectantly looks at the lab assistant. He never felt so much pressure on him before. Not even while on the hunt for a killer. “Please tell me you have the result for me.”

“Here.” She hands Walter the results. “Now we are even. Never ask me to do something like this ever again. I could lose my job.”

“If you forget about the test and the results, we are even.” He looks at the results. His heart jumped for a second before he remembered what he said to you only a few days ago.

“Detective.” She nods and turns back toward her equipment. “You shouldn’t waste more time. She’s on the way to start a new life far away from you.”

Walter huffs. The last thing he needs is someone telling him that he fucked up big time. He already knows there’s no way you’ll forgive him.

“Can I help you, sir?” The clerk at the shop asks. She’s looking at Walter standing in front of a shelf. He looks left and right, unsure what to buy. “Sir?”

“Hmm…” Walter dips his head to look at her. He has his arms crossed over his chest as he tries to decide on a gift hamper. “I need a gift for…” He sniffs and looks back at the shelf. “…my pregnant girlfriend. It should say, I’m sorry and happy to become a dad at the same time.”

She frowns. “You want to apologize with a baby gift hamper? Sir, I don’t know your girlfriend well, but that’s not the best gift for an angry pregnant woman.”

“How do you wanna know?” He cocks his head to watch her look at the shelf herself. “I want her to know that I’m happy about the baby and that I’m sorry for saying all those stupid things.”

She huffs now. “You are always sorry, aren’t you? Men are all the same. Do you believe a half-hearted apology and a random gift will make things up to her? How dare you come back to her to do it all over again!”

“Whoa, I didn’t ask for your opinion or help. If you’d excuse me now,” Walter angrily says. He glares at the clerk, pissed at her cocky attitude. “Whatever crawled up your ass is not my fault or problem. Nice customer service.”

He’s too angry to focus on buying anything at the shop. Walter storms out of the shop, squaring his jaw. The young woman at the shop wasn’t wrong. Walter hurt you beyond repair, and this can’t be fixed with a fucking gift hamper.

“I’ll take two, no, three of these.” Walter points at the flower baskets. “No, this is stupid. Give me your prettiest bouquet of peonies. She loves them.”

He looks around the flower shop, frowning deeply. There’s a beautiful orchid and a large cactus next to it. Walter shakes his head and laughs. “An impossible match,” he murmurs before pointing at the plants. “I changed my mind. I’ll take these two.”

Packing up your things to move out of your home feels wrong. You learned to love your apartment and turned it into a cozy home for you.

Not so long ago, you had hoped Walter would move in with you one day.

All your hope got shattered the day he told you Rachel is back and that he wants to try again. Your heart broke, and you mourned the life you could’ve had if only Walter felt the same.

Now you’re going to raise the life growing inside of you alone, far away from the friends you made and your beloved home.

“Well, this can’t be helped,” you murmur while rubbing your belly. There’s no swelling yet, but soon enough people will know you’re expecting. “We are going to do this all on our own, bean. Don’t worry. Your mommy is going to give you all the love you’ll need.”

For a few moments, you allow yourself to be sad about the breakup. You cry, you scream, and then you get up to pack up a few more things.

Walter is a nervous wreck. He paces in front of your apartment, the cactus, orchid, and a baby gift hamper in his arms.

“Fuck,” he curses. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Walter curses himself for being a fool. If only he knew that you never wanted to leave him for a better position.

How could he be so blind? How could he not see that your feelings for him were true?

His instinct should’ve told him you are not going to leave him. Instead, he ignored his instinct and listened to the nagging voice in the back of his mind.

“FUCK!” One last time, he takes a deep breath before knocking at your door, using his right elbow.

“Hello, what can I—” You stiffen when your eyes meet Walter’s blue eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I should ask you the same!” He huffs. “I told you so often to not open the door before checking who’s on the other side.”

You huff. “This is how you want to start this conversation? Really, Walter?” He smirks when you put your hands on your hips to glare at him. “What brings you here? Do you want to make sure I’m leaving? Maybe Rachel needs a new apartment, and you want mine.”

“Baby,” he hesitantly says. “Rachel is not, and never will be, a part of my life. She wanted to return for a few months, but we didn’t stay in touch. I lied, believing you want to leave me too. I was hurt and believed hurting you would make me feel better.”

You narrow your eyes. “For a smart detective, you are dumb as a brick.” Slamming the door in his face, you huff. “FUCK YOU!”

“Baby? Uh—will you at least let me explain things? Please?” He knocks at your door again, using his foot this time. “Y/N, please open the door. The cactus is poking my chest, and the orchid looks like it's scared of me.”

You’re tempted to open the door, almost giving in as he keeps talking. “No.”

“Please, at least take the plants. You see, the pretty one is you, soft and sweet. The large, ugly beast is me, rough and grumpy. Even though they are so different, he loves the pretty orchid.” He sighs deeply. “And he hopes that the pretty flower loves him too…”

Walter listens closely. He sucks in a breath when you curse behind the door.

“Baby, I know about the baby,” Walter continues. “I know what I did and said was unforgivable, but please talk to me…”

[dollwhite]

wow..?

uhh I hope y’all like thisss I js need a lil sum sum to post 😫 yesss I know it’s bad 😭 might be grammatically errors. But that’s ok!! I still need dividers guysss I’m tired of ___

made by Dollwhite

__________________

Wally west had? How do u say…?

No dating life.

And his friends know that his family knew that. everyone that known him knows he has no dating life.

The man just couldn’t pull ok?

so when he got himself a girlfriend and she was bad?..

Wally was NOT going to tell his friends shit. He know they would ask him

“how did U pull HER???” it wasn’t like his friends had no faith in him, they just know he couldn’t pull. Once when he and dick went to a coffee shop, a girl was sitting across from them. Wally asked for her number cuz he thought she was cute….

she said “Ew, your friend can get my number tho.”

Dick brings it up like once a month….

one day y’all were on a date night, and his friends pulled up…..and he asked u to get in the back sit… and to put a blanket over your self.

__________________

“What” you giggled, your right hand hovering over your cheat.

”ik Ik it’s stupid but.. I haven’t told my friends about us.” Wally muttered his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “ we.. have been dating for 2 years and you haven’t told you friends about us!” You yelled at him

who doesn’t tell their friends about their girlfriend. That’s just fucking stupid. And on date night. Do u know how many date nights y’all had to cancel because he was saving the word.

TOO FUCKING MANY

And now his asking you to get in the back sit cover yourself with a blanket? What. The. Fuck.

The. Fuck. Is. Wrong. With. Him.

“you joking?…right.” As he sakes his head no, two cars pulled up next to Wally’s.

“pls [reader] next date next I promise, no matter what happens I won’t let hero work get in the way.” He eyes the looked so pleading.

But..No.

you came to have good time with your boyfriend. Hell it was fucking date night. And if he thought that you were going to climb in the back seat? Because he didn’t want his friends finding out?

He could go fuck himself.

“No, Wally I am in a 300 dollar dress with red bottom heels. I Will not be going any were near that fucking back sit, so fuck you.” You declined. Grabbing your coat and purse.

As you opened your door, and stepped out. You could feel 6? Perhaps more.

Eyes traveling across your body, some wandering to other parts.

___________________

“Who was that?” A familiar voice questioned. “Fuck off dick.”

“Dude, step outside the car”

as Wally stood outside of his black car. He looked around him, and all he could see were the questioning gazes of his friends. “Go ahead. Ask your questions”

“who was that girl?”

“pls tell me that was your cousin”

“How old is she?” “does she know about yk?..?” “Who was that fine babe”

“Can ya give me her number?. Or try and hook us up?”

one at a time people!! Wally complained.

“ok ok uh was that you gf?.” Wallys best friend Dick asked. “yes”

a bunch of aw’s were muttered, but not like the aw cute ones. More like the disappointed ones. __________________________

um that’s the end I hope u guys liked this, I just need sum to post cuz I felt kinda bad for y’all…..and like I was supposed to be working in BRAT part two buttttt my man Wally was just calling my name guyssss. This isn’t my usual writing style, cuz I was rushing 😓 should I make part two of this my brain juices are going again

.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM DIE HARD *  assorted dialogue from the 1988 christmas movie, adjust as necessary

no fucking shit, lady!

does it sound like i'm ordering a pizza?

come out to the coast. we'll get together, have a few laughs.

i've got a hundred people down here.

who gives a shit about glass?

who the fuck is this?

i am in charge of this situation.

oh, you're in charge? well i've got some bad news for you. from up here it doesn't look like you're in charge of jack shit.

you listen to me, you little asshole...

now you listen to me, jerk-off.

if you're not a part of the solution, you're a part of the problem.

are you still there?

yeah, i'm still here. unless you wanna open the front door for me.

you know my name, but who are you?

do you really think you have a chance against us?

yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker.

now i have a machine gun.

welcome to the party, pal!

you'd have made a pretty good cowboy yourself.

what was it you said to me before?

i thought i told all of you i want radio silence.

i'm very sorry [name]. i didn't get that message.

that's very kind of you.

you are most troublesome.

sorry, wrong guess.

whoa, these are very bad for you.

who are you then?

god. that man looks really pissed.

you want money?

so that's what this is about? a fucking robbery?

put down the gun.

you throw quite a party.

now i know what a tv dinner feels like.

who's driving this car, stevie wonder?

drop it, dickhead.

you won't hurt me.

after all your posturing, all your little speeches, you're nothing but a common thief.

i am an exceptional thief.

hey, how you feeling?

what the fuck?

geronimo, motherfucker!

you motherfucker, i'm gonna kill you!

i have someone who wants to talk to you.

they're giving me a few minutes to try and talk some sense into you.

i know you think you're doing your job, and i can appreciate that, but you're just dragging this thing out.

what have you told them?

i told them we were old friends.

you shouldn't be doing this.

they know people are listening.

didn't you hear me?

shut up! just shut your mouth!

go fuck yourself, [name].

put down the gun.

i'm going to count to three.

what do you think, i'm fucking stupid?

i have a request.

what idiot put you in charge?

i don't enjoy being this close to you.

can't you see what's happening? can't you read between the lines?

you couldn't drag me away.

you don't wanna know.

i had an accident.

the way you drive, i can see why.

drop the fucking gun!

the hell with this.

you are done.

thanks for the advice.

i hope that's not a hostage.

i'm going to count to three. there will not be a four.

what the fuck are you doing?

how the fuck did you get into this shit?

i hope i'm not interrupting anything.

you're amazing. you've figured this all out already.

hey, business is business.

you use a gun, i use a fountain pen.

he could be a fucking bartender for all we know.

the FBI is here.

want a breath mint?

are we on schedule?

what about the body that fell out the window?

i can live with that.

why the fuck didn't you stop them?

oh god, please don't let me die.

i'm on your side, you assholes!

i wanted this to be professional, efficient, adult, cooperative... not a lot to ask.

something's wrong.

you don't like flying, do you?

you didn't bring me along for my charming personality.

we are both professionals.

do you smoke?

right up the ass.

you macho assholes.

i know the type. i think he's got his eye on you.

we may have some problems.

i need backup assistance!

no one is coming to help you.

no one kills him but me.

are you crazy?

good enough?

[kalinara]

(Scans from From the Ashes Infinity Comic #6)

So I mentioned in a previous post how much I love that, per the most recent X-Men issue (#9, if you're counting), Scott has no idea that Xavier didn't massacre that crew on the Agnew.

I know Scott's probably going to feel guilty about believing Xavier was capable of that kind of act. But personally, I hope he still gets to be angry about Xavier deciding it was perfectly fine to traumatize him by making him watch an atrocity, without bothering to trust him with the truth.

(It's not like Scott Summers isn't known for his self-control and ability to contain his emotional reactions or anything...)

But I also love how incredibly stupid Xavier's plan to clue Scott in actually was.

Sure, okay, planting obviously fake names in the crew manifest of the Agnew is a clever move. It certainly works on Sally Floyd (four times, apparently).

But here's the thing, Xavier specifically did this to target SCOTT SUMMERS. You know, someone who:

a) already has a string of horrible monster father figures as it is, and is absolutely experienced with Xavier's personal betrayals in the past. (Exhibit 1: Deadly Genesis, Exhibit 2: Astonishing X-Men.)

b) tends to react to trauma and emotional turmoil through the combined solutions of repression and avoidance. Even to catastrophic results. (Exhibit 3: the first series of X-Factor.)

Scott Summers was NEVER going to look at that list. Scott Summers probably spends most of his time pretending to not know what the Agnew is, or ever have any mention of it, image of it, or the like ever cross his mind.

And it's particularly idiotic, because as we see with Sally, he CAN APPEAR AND TALK TO PEOPLE. He could just appear and talk to Scott NOW. Or if, somehow, Scott is refusing to take his calls - the man repressed Apocalypse and the Void, I could buy that he could tune out Xavier if he wants, he could TELL JEAN. They've been in contact.

Hell, he could tell SALLY to tell SCOTT.

But see, if he told Scott face to face, Scott might have a chance to realize what I pointed out above, which is that how Xavier treated him was really fucking shitty. And he might say something about it.

Whereas, if he figured it out on his own, he'd likely have stewed in guilt for a while.

So I'm gleefully happy that Xavier is either going to have to actually EXPLAIN what he did or keep his mouth fucking shut. Fuck you, Charlie.

[romana-after-dark]

Fleshlight

Dark!Scott Summers x fem!reader x Logan Howlett

(Includes some Scogan)

Join my taglist : Masterlist

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My submission #2 for Dead Dove December! there is still plenty of time, so I hope I can see at one or more other Oscar isaac Submissions and maybe a logan submission! Also, I love every single of the Pedro submissions, you are all so amazing!!!

Summary: After Jean dies, Scott blames anyone and everyone, and he hates that Logan has moved on and is happy. He wants to take that happiness, he wants to be able to forget, and he wants to know what Logan had that Jean wanted so much...

Warnings: SCOTT IS DARK! He non con/dub cons reader and also Logan, in different ways. I don't want to spoil things so just be aware THIS IS DARK! multiple themes here at play. Cucking Logan howlett tee hee. Put him in the cuck chair!!

DDDNE dividers by @clawdee

3.2 words

A/N: I tagged the logan tag list, but this isn't strickly or even really much logan x reader so if its not for you, don't feel like you gotta read it.

Tumblr does not have an algorithm. Although likes are always appreciated, and comments are what keep me writing, reblogs are how work is spread. things are not pushed by the site based on how mnay likes they get. Please consider reblogging, thank you <3

Jean was dead.

And Scott was a mess.

It had been a year now, and Scott refused to move on, refused to make a new life for himself. Somehow, Scott blamed himself, blamed Logan, and blamed anyone who was stupid enough to try and comfort him. Logan’d near taken off his head when he shouted at Rogue, finding some convoluted reason it was her fault. Logan had grown tired of his moping and how everyone just tip-toed around him. He had tried, really tried to be nice; he told Scott that Jean chose him, but that didn’t help, and despite trying a few times to comfort him or talk to him in a drunken stupor, Scott only replied with a mix of ‘fuck off’ and insults.

So, logan stopped trying, and he stopped moping with Scott. Instead, he found homeless a pretty little girlfriend. You!

That only seemed to make Scott worse.

So it wasn’t surprising when Logan found him downing booze in the staff kitchen. He wasn’t supposed to have it, but no one really had the heart to tell him to keep alcohol off school grounds. 

“You buy’n, Slim?” Logan tried to joke, grabbing two water bottles instead from the fridge.

Scott replied with a humorless laugh. “Don’t you have your girl to get back to?”

“Yeah.” he held two water bottles in his large hand, giving them a shake and winking. “Gotta keep her hydrated after the last 2 hours.”

He didn’t expect the depressed, tired man to slam him against the counter. Face to face, breath to breath, Logan was closer to Scott than he’d ever been, feeling him right there against him, Scotts lean but firm chest against Logan’s own white tank top. Up close, Scott looked worse off than he’d seemed; which was already bad. He was pale as always, but now his skin was sunken and damn near gray. Darkness peaked from under his visor.

“It’s not fair, y’know that?” Scott said, his voice barely above a whisper; it was an earthy gravel, like his voice had to claw its way out from rubble just to get here. “You get to just move on, and I’m stuck with this.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love your martyr act,” Logan sneered. “Like you aren’t making a fetish out of your sadness! She wouldn’t want you to be so fucking miserable you drop 30 pounds and smell like jose and puke! Jesus Scott,” he shoves at the young man, but not hard enough to push him away. “This isn’t for her, this is so that you can feel sorry-”

Lips on lips, chest to chest, crotch to swelling crotch Scott kissed him. It was hard, angry, not passion to it but a searching, a longing. Logan didn’t kiss back, and once his initial shock faded into recognition, Logan used his strength to shove Scott back. Hard.

The sound of Scott hitting the table and crashing to the floor probably would wake half the mansion, but Logan didn’t help the situation by yelling. 

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!”

“I’m not an idiot!” Scott shouted back from the floor, looking pathetic. “I know why she liked you, I’m not fucking blind, but christ, I was supposed to be her husband! HER HUSBAND! And she wanted YOU! You took her from me! And now you get to just move on and fuck your little toy while I’m miserable!”

Logan, breathing heavy still, took out a cigar and a lighter as he stared down at him. “I’m giving you a break because all this?” He waves the lit cigar in his direction. “Is pathetic. But touch me again, or call my girl anything shitty and I’ll claw out intestines and feed them to you.”

*

It had been a week since the incident, but Logan couldn’t get it out of his head. What the hell was wrong with Scott? What, he couldn’t kiss Jean so he kissed the last person who had? Idiot. Fucking idiot. He hadn’t even seen him since, and thank fuck for that. 

Logan was returning from another trip to the kitchen, this time some food to give you energy for continuation of your marathon sex. 

“Hey baby, I got you pizz-” He saw you in your little robe, sat on Scott’s lap, little lip quivering.

“Logan!” You cried for him, and Logan nearly made mad dash to rip you from the fucker and rip his throat out, but he hesitated when he saw Scott was wearing his visor.

The fucker smirked. “I wouldn’t.” He referenced Logan’s unsheathed claws. “Not unless you’d like your girl without a head.”

Fresh tears came from your face as Scott snaked a hand around your waist. 

“What the fuck do you want?” Logan gritted out.

“Close the door and take a seat.”

With slow movements, but doing what he was told, Logan shut the door to his bedroom and sat at the chair facing the bed. He didn’t normally think Scott was capable of cold blooded murder of an innocent, but he hadn’t been himself lately. Who knew what he was capable of? 

“Okay, I’m in the damn chair, now let her go.”

 Scott didn’t pay any attention, tucking his face in the crook of your wet neck and smelling your skin and hair. “Pretty little toy you got here, huh? Must be nice…” His hand around your waist nudged over the loose robe, revealing your skin.

“Scott, fucking stop or I swear to God-”

“You have no control here, Logan.” His eyes snapped up to the anxious older man. “You try to hurt me, I’ll kill her and you.”

“Don’t hurt him, please!” Your sniffle pulls his attention to you again. “What do you want? Please, just don’t hurt him.”

“Baby-”

“I want my wife back.”

*

You hear Logan growl in frustration; his knuckles whitening as he grips the table. “She’s not coming back!”

You worry that Logan’s temper and sharp words are escalating the situation, but Scott still speaks evenly. “I know. I know… but we have her, don’t we?” he reached up and squeezed your breast, and you cringe in embarrassment.

“We don’t have anything!”

“Well, you don’t. Not right now, anyway. But I have her, and oh, baby…” His voice drops an octave, and you can feel the swelling in his pants pressed against your ass. “I’m gonna make good use.”

You knew what would happen. What you had to let happen to keep each of you alive. Scott was going to fuck you.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!” Logan began to stand, but then Scott fired up his visor, ready to shoot. Logan backed down.

“It’s okay.” You whisper, wet eyes locking with Logans. “Just- just let it happen, Lo.”

“He won’t get away with it, baby, I promise, I’ll fucking-”

Logan was interrupted by a loud moan as Scott spread your legs, feeling the wetness inside you. “Still this tight after Logan took you? What the matter, sweetheart, big guy not working for much?”

Scott had your legs locked around his knees, spreading you open for Logan to watch as the robe dismantled down your shoulders. Logan was scowling.

“Bigger than you, Slim.” He spat.

Turning to you and nuzzling his nose at your shoulder, Scott mutters “I think the lady doth protest too much.” And chuckles to himself. 

His fingers were deep inside you, and you cursed the way your body betrayed you. It wasn’t your fault, Logan had made you cum 5 times already, but always left you wanting more, your cunt dripping with your arousal and his spend as you lay spread out on the bed. Even as Logan searched for food while you rested, you couldn’t take your hands away from your pussy. That’s how Scott found you.

Your thighs flex as your cunt spasms; Scott notices and laughs. The pelasure was dizzing, and you hated that he felt so fucking good. “Eager little toy, considering the circumstances, aren’t you? What the matter, Logan can’t take care of you? Big man wanted to steal my wife, but can’t make his whore cum?” Scott picks you up, and you’re surprised by his strength as he stands and tosses you on the bed, robe now splayed out underneath you and over the tousled blue sheets. 

With a smug, lopsided grin that was borderline charming, Scott looks down at you, holding up 2 dripping fingers. At first, you thought he was making fun of you for getting so wet, but as he loomed over you, popped up with just the strength of one arm, you see the white swirled in with you.

“This all Logan’s got for you, little toy? I think a pretty doll like you deserves more than a few little spurts. Don’t you worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.” Then, turning to lock eyes with Logan, Scott licks the seething man's cum off his fingers, grinding his erection between your legs.

*

It didn’t take long Scott to be butt naked, sliding his uncut tip between your folds. Quickly, you pant, and you hope Logan thinks it’s from being nervous, because it somewhat is… you hope he can’t see into your mind with those little powers of his…

“I want my toy to beg for it.” Scott says, his voice husky above you. He looks good like this, his slim body muscled still, more defined abs and pecs than Logan but lacking in the arms. Logan had great arms. And his back, oh my god, watching Logan take off his shirt from behind… Scott must’ve seen you drifting, so his large hands gripped your chin. “I said beg for it, toy.”

“Mmm mm” You shake your head, Scotts grip on you too tight to talk. 

Logan’s voice calls to you. “Baby.” You turn to him. “It’s okay.”

But you don’t relent, unable to take the humiliation. “Fine.” Scott sits back on his haunches. “Let’s try something else.”

Your body was already worked up from him finger fucking you, and your skin sensative from the rub of Logan’s beard earlier, so when Scotts fingers found your clit, you can’t help but yelp.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk” Scott teases. “Toys should be played with, not heard…” He begins to expertly play with your clit with his nimble fingers, learning quickly what made your eyes cross.

“I- I’m not a toy…” You try to argue, even are your orgasm begins to swell from where the finger fucking left off.

“Sure you are, that’s what you are to Logan”

Logan from the chair. “No, it’s not!”

“SHUT THE HELL UP” Scotts viser glowed, and as Logan shouted no, he burst open window to the room. Glass shattered on the floor, and for a moment the only sound were the birds outside. Neither you nor Logan dared move. In his burst of rage, Scott slaps your pussy. It stings, it fucking stings so bad but christ, it feels good. He goes back to his little game. “You’re a toy to him. Jean was a toy,” He’s breath, worked up. “He’s a user, and he’ll use you until you’re dead too.” 

Warmer, wetter, up, up, up your orgasm began to crest, read to cum despite the fear, despite your boyfriend watching. It didn’t matter at the moment. Up, and up, and up until- Scott pulled away, leaving your tense body shaking. Down, down, down… 

“You’re not coming on another but my cock, fleshlight.” Scott rubbed his dick on your folds again. “Toy’s don’t get pleasure, they give it. Are you ready to beg?”

Still shaking, your stomach cramping from the unpleasurable near-orgasm, you barely gather enough thought to whisper, “No.”

“Fine by me. I’ll just keep playing with you until you’re ready.”

Logan’s voice seemed far away now, telling him to stop, telling him it’s enough, he made his point… but you knew he didn’t yet.

Again and again, Scott took you right to the edge, right to wear your stomach tight, legs tensed, cunt clenched down on nothing and then- gone. Over, and over, until tears were spilling from your eyes, your clit aching in overstimulation, your sopping wet hole begging for release you couldn’t give. It hurt, all your muscles cramping and aching and there was no end in sight. Scott seemed to enjoy it. Still rock hard, every time you came down from a ruined orgasm, it was ready to go, ready to prode at your entrance, waiting until you begged for it. It felt like hours, although you knew it hadn’t been that long.

Until Scott threatened Logan, you wouldn’t give him that.

“C’mon, little fleshlight…” He teases you, tapping the tip of his cock repeatedly against your swollen clit. “Beg for it.”

“N-no.” You refuse, sobbing in pain, the agonizing torture and embaresment of the pleasure you did feel swelling up inside you. “I wo-”

“Fuck her.” Logan’s voice pulls you over to the corner, where you see him, jaw clenched. “I want you to fuck her, Scott. Please.” For a moment, you’re confused at what he’s doing but then you get it. He’s saving you the humiliation of begging, but he can’t take watching you suffer anymore. Logan slides off the chair, dropping to his knees. “Please fuck her, Scott. Let’s just end this.”

You give Logan a small smile. Groveling is not what he does, but he is for you. 

“Come here.” Scott beckons and Logan starts to stand, but Scott stops him. “Nuh uh. Hands and knees. No funny business. I’ll end us all right here.”

Cheeks burning, Logan crawls to the bed, clearly trying to stop himself from clawing Scott. Even if Logan got a stab or two in, it would take seconds for Cyclops to laser either of you, or harm some innocent person in the building; clearly, he was a man who felt he had nothing to lose, who knew what he’d do.

Knelt at the side of the bed, Logan looked up at Scott, his auburn hair falling over his forehead. Scott placed two fingers, fingers that smell distinctly of you, at his lower lip. “Beg me to fuck you.”

Logan swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing. “Fuck me, Scott.”

With a satisfied grin, Scott slid his cock inside you. It was a stretch, the thick girth of him still not as much as Logan, but longer. Fuck, he felt good. You were so sensitive, you thought you could feel every vein of Scott’s cock. Whimpering and whining around him, your pussy drooling with relief, you see that Scott isn’t even paying attention. Instead, he’s staring intently into Logans eyes as he pushes his fingers into his mouth at the same pace her enters you. Logan, for his part, gazed up at Scott with a borderline entranced look.

As Scott fucked you, her fingers went in an out of Logan’s mouth at the same time. In. Out. In. Out. 

Logan’s pants were tighter than usual.

Scott barely acknowledged you, looking only at Logan, muttering things to him so quiet only Logan’s hearing could pick up, even if you had the ability to focus.

All you can here from Logan is a quiet, repeated whisper of “It was my fault. It was was my fault.” But you didn’t know what.

 Scott felt so good inside you, hitting deeper than Logan could, hitting places you didn’t know were reachable by cock. In a way, it was better. You didn’t have to look at the man assaulting you; he was nothing, he wasn’t there, he was a dildo inside you, unattached to a person, right? Right?

So why did you feel like the toy?

And why did you like it?

Whatever was happening between Logan and Scott right now, you weren’t so much on the outside, you were the barrier. You were the thin film that prevented this from being gay, that prevented Scott from throat fucking Logan even as your boyfriend gag with him knuckles disappearing past his lips. You were the condom. You were the “no homo”, in Scotts head. He fucked you, but he was imagining Logan.

You were the fleshlight.

Despite all this, there was something so new about Logan on his knees, something sick inside of you opening up that you liked seeing him, all 6 feet and adamantium and tough bravado drooling and gagging and fucking hard for Scott. He looked good like this. You even liked the little bit of fear in his eyes.

Scott snapped back to you. “Pretty little toy, aren’t you? Does it make you wet to see your boyfriend on his knees?”

Lost in it all, you roll your eyes back, only barely getting out a yes and pleasure begins to over take you. You were so close, your cunt tightening with little spasms around Scott as you begged him not to stop this time. Scott pulls his fingers out Logan and grabs him by his curled up hair, pulling him to your puffy mound. 

“Suck on her and touch yourself, Logan. We’re all doing this together, or not at all.”

*

It did not take Logan long to catch up; it was seconds, in fact, because he was ready to bust in his pants just with hearing Scott fuck you, the wet smell of your pussy, the fingers in his mouth he imaged a cock, and the filthy, degrading shit Scott whispered to him. He never thought he’d get off to being called subhuman, a disgusting animal, to being made fun of for what Scott perceived Logan couldn’t do for you, but Logan didn’t think he could get harder.

He liked feeling weak, for once. He liked knowing he was at Scotts mercy. He liked knowing you were at Scotts mercy and he was powerless to stop any of it. Logan didn’t feel powerless often. It was… freeing.

The three of you cum at the same time, Logan sucking hard on your clit and feeling as you writhe and twitch, feeling Scott hipbone ram into him as he filled you up with load after load of his cum in your guts while Logan squirted out pathetically onto the wood floor instead.

When it ended, ended with a cry and the final sound of Scotts balls against your ass, Scott collapsed onto the bed.

Just a slight bit, you scooted towards him, not away, and Scott wrapped an arm around you as he cried. It didn’t feel like a cry of sadness, but of relief. Scott had snapped, that dark side of him that he tried too hard to hide under his pristine exterior for Jean came out, and he had gotten Logan to admit it. 

Her death was his fault.

Logan knew this, because he felt the same. The same relief, being able to just… let go. And to just it, just admit out loud it was his fault Jean was dead, he should’ve stopped her, he should’ve done more, more, more. He should have done more to protect you, to stop Scott…  But with this, he didn’t have to do anything. He just had to let it all go.

It was his fault, and he never felt more free.

This was Logan’s chance. Scott was distracted, he could pretty easily decapitate him…

Logan made no move.

He bent over licking his cum from the floor.

Thanks for reading!!! looking forward to reading more of your ddd entries!

THERE IS STILL TIME! if you have an idea and want to enter it, just reach out with how much time you need! i probs wont have a masterlist until middle January to February. Thanks!

I appriciate you all so much! I've had a hard time lately with being sick, a car accident, relapsing on SH, and work issues. I havn't been writing as much, and im sorry. for that. Just know I appriciate the love you give so much, it means the world and i hope nothing but the best for you!

if you like scott, consider reading Our Gentle Sins. there no scott x reader, but he's the only sane person in this story.

more dark scott? heres a short piece!

Tagging the logan taglist, even though this isnt really logan x reader.

@soundofmassconfusion @miraclesabound @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @hornystan @del-ightfulling @madamerubrum @journal3sposts @tomhockstetter7-111 @and-claudia @yeaiamme2 @xoxabs88xox

[dykedvonte]

I think the most baffling thing about the Tulpar as a vessel to me is the fact that the ship really did only have a one way communication system.

I know it was cheap but even the most basic of vessels regarding major transport would have some way, shape or form for outside communication. Not only that but there was absolutely no form of innate emergency signal to show they may have been offline or in trouble despite clearly having a system to dock credits if they went off course. It's another factor that really shows that bad situations are made to get worse by design. One person who is required to relay all information to the crew and make all the choices without feedback. No way to update or call for help in case of a dire situation. No way to inform of inner personal conflicts and acquire procedures accordingly.

It really is like they are all in some sort of fucked up solitary confinement. They have their own world with strict roles that are meaningless in the end, as long as the cargo makes it, it doesn't matter what happens on that ship to the company. They don't want to hear anything and will come to conclusions on what happened based on how much pay they can withhold from the workers. Even what they do send is short, sterile and corporate to the extent it was likely written and sent out with a command by some random unmanned computer in an office.

There's something to be said about how unfair it is to force absolute power and control onto one person when you as an entity could do so much more to offload it but I've said it many times before so I won't again.

[seventh-district]

7am, eating cold leftover teriyaki stir-fry for breakfast and crying over blorbos

[jrwiyuri]

I think whoever told q!Luzu that slime killed Tilin deserves to be shot in the head

[skyllion-uwu]

.

[daffodilsfortomorrow]

....

[cerberin]

someone sent me a random package and i ended up crying all day about it

[domesticated-whores]

choked so hard swallowing my drink down the wrong way that I almost puked and I'm still kinda nauseous hours later, so lol. also, friend (the mutual work friend of me and my man that actually hangs out with him outside of work) witnessed and started saying something about how some people choke on things like that bad enough that it kinda spooks them from drinking and they get dehydrated out of paranoia (no idea if that's true, sounds fake but whatever, he's one of those people yk?) and my dumb ass, full of autism and pure thoughts only, said "damn, if that were a problem I wouldn't be able to put nothing in my mouth, my gag reflex is shit 😞😞" which has probably made it's way to my man. because I'm stupid and was really woozy from coughing til I almost vomited and totally didn't think of what I was saying.

[peachylynnie]

wine

word count: 1.3k

synopsis: in which sylus is obsessed with your lips.

contains: sylus x mc!reader (not dating because i like tormenting him like that), alcohol consumption, horny sylus (not smut tho), suggestive themes, mentions of violence and blood, and LOTS of cussing.

a/n: i told myself i wouldn't write anything until i finish finals but sylus won. i'm also avoiding his myth spoilers since i didn't pull his pair yet. enjoy reading! do NOT copy or translate my work. sylus does NOT endorse plagiarism.

sylus wants to kiss you right now. he wants to kiss you so fucking badly, it hurts. 

you can't blame the man. you looked absolutely delectable right now. hair up, ears jeweled, eyes hooded, and back bared, oh, you looked so good in the dress he handpicked for you; he could just devour you whole and leave nothing to spare. 

and he would have no remorse for doing so either. the auction you two were at was filled with fucking nobodies. how dare they look at you, let alone breathe the same air as you? he's lost count of how many times he felt the urge to just demolish this shithole of a place. 

sylus sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. he knows he's being irrational. after all, he was the one who suggested you two attend this auction. you showed interest in an old manuscript that just so happened to be available only at this auction, and he would be damned if he didn't get you everything you could ever want. hell, you could even ask him for his heart, and he would tear it out of his cold chest, deliver it to your divine feet, get on his fucking knees, and beg for you to demand more of him. 

so, actually, you can blame him for the situation he is in. he was the one who picked the set you're wearing right now oh so ravishingly. he was the one who brought you to this stupid auction that's taking so long to get on with it already—where the fuck is the manuscript? but most importantly, he was the one who made your lips look so damn kissable right now. 

he knew what he was doing when he picked your lipstick for you. deep scarlet that would match his eyes and look good on you. but he never thought it would look this good on you. sylus curses under his breath, feeling his pants tighten around his crotch after remembering you bent over the sink to gaze at the mirror and paint your lips. he recalls how it took him everything not to stride over to you, spin you around, and slam his lips onto yours, hoping to get a smear of that majestic shade. 

oh, but it wasn't just the shade of your lips that drove him crazy. it was the texture, too. you must've been feeling heated because you go to take another sip of the wine in your hand. the matted, creamy lip print you leave on the glass has the silver-haired man inhaling sharply and tightening his grip on the table. what he would give to have such a work of art printed on him instead. he wants it all over him. his face, his neck, his fingertips, his cock—everywhere until no single part of him was unmarked by your luscious lips. until there was no room to even question who he belonged to. 

that's how badly sylus wants to kiss you right now. but he stops himself using the single thread of patience he has left. yes, the two of you were technically alone, standing at the table in the far back. thank god he reserved a table just for the two of you so only he could marvel at your lip-stained glass. no one would interrupt if the two of you were to just have a full-blown make-out session right now.

but sylus knew better. he knew that you were still wary of him. this, you can blame him. after all, he's not a saint. his entire being is smothered in blood, down to the very tip of his designer shoes. he built his lavish empire of protocores and guns from the taking of lives. hell, he even threatened you the first time you met. though, he only did that to push you to your full potential. he could never truly harm you. but sylus knows you. you, in your most beautiful human form, who dwells not only on the past but also on the lives of others. you, whose empathy is so strong, sylus can't help but admire, even though he sometimes wishes you would just let loose and bring hell upon all those who dare to cross you. thus, your continued, empathy-driven wariness of him. but, sylus knows how to compromise. he's okay with being the one with bloodied hands and fucked-up morals so long as it means seeing you, even if it means from afar. besides, you haven't reported him to your little hunter friends yet. he supposes that's a start, and he could settle with that. he could also settle with this: 

"is the wine to your liking, sweetie?" he asks smoothly. 

you flinch, taken aback by sylus' sudden question. you were wondering when he would stop staring at you and actually start paying attention to the auction. not that you mind having sylus' eyes on you. it's just that the borderline depraved look in his crimson eyes was making you feel all hot inside and you really wanted to stop feeling all hot inside whenever you were near him, let alone thinking about him. 

"uh yeah," you nervously chuckle, setting the glass down. "it's better than i thought." you turn your gaze to a waiter nearby, hoping to get a glass for sylus since he seemed so interested in yours for some reason. "here, let me get one for you too." 

you try to catch the waiter's attention by raising your right hand, but sylus stops you. he grasps your hand with his left and rests it on the table. you furrow your eyebrows at him, wondering why he stopped you. sylus, the man who appreciates (that's the nicest way you can describe it) alcohol passing a chance at a complimentary drink? you're utterly confused. 

"no need," sylus gives a gentle squeeze, trying to ease your confusion. though, you're not prepared for what happens next. 

sylus picks up your glass with his free hand, plants his lips on your lip print, and takes a slow sip. your eyes widen, feeling the heat that was coiling in your stomach spread all around your tense body. holy shit, did he just—? 

the aggravating godsend of a man next to you finishes your drink with a satisfied sigh, wiping the garnet droplets from the corner of his lips but not the paint left by yours. "hm," sylus drags his tongue along his lips, a smirk threatening to show. "it is better than i thought."

you flush, seeing your lipstick smudged on sylus' succulent lips. you don’t know what to say. he totally did that on purpose. there's no way he didn't. does this mean the two of you technically kissed-

you don't allow yourself to finish that last thought. you blink rapidly, trying to get your now parched mouth to say something. anything. but you can't. you're completely flustered to the point where all you can do is just gape at sylus with a blush the shade of his eyes tinting your cheeks. 

sylus grins, the tip of his canine peeking out from his now-tainted lips. this is better than he thought. perhaps, he should settle more often if it means getting to see you so cutely aroused and embarrassed like this. though, he knows he won't be able to settle for long. he knows one day, he won't be able to hold himself back anymore. one day, he'll conquer your lips for himself and relentlessly indulge in the real thing. but for now, sylus is content. for now. 

"cat got your tongue, sweetie?" sylus teases, tilting his head to meet your shaky gaze. 

you jerk your head away, trying to get the image of his lips out of your mind. "eyes on the prize, sylus." 

sylus chuckles, but not without placing his elbow on the table and propping his face on his hand to get a better look at you. "oh, my eyes are on the prize, sweetie. my eyes are on the prize." 

[wherethegravelsthin]

tinder is garbage

[neferaskingdom]

♡ You're Doing Amazing Sweetie | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: George finds out and the only thing Y/n can do is hide and pray that George doesn't take out Max on track.

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

Y/n paces anxiously near the monitors while Charles and Lando loiter as if they had all the time in the world. Charles had his arms crossed, his race suit tied around his waist, and Lando was demolishing a plate of snacks meant for the Ferrari engineers. Y/n had been hiding out in the Ferrari garage since the paddock opened to avoid crossing paths with George.

“Okay, tell me the truth—how screwed am I?” Y/n asks, whipping around to face them.

“Oh, monumentally,” Lando replies through a mouthful of cookie. “Like Titanic levels. Possibly Pompeii.”

Charles nods along solemnly. “Also George is definitely plotting something. He walked by earlier muttering to himself like a Bond villain.”

“Fuck” Y/n groans pacing faster.

“You do realize hiding here makes you look guiltier, right?” Lando says, biting into another cookie

Y/n glares at him. “What do you want me to do? Parade around the paddock with a sign that says ‘Yes George, I am the mother of Max Verstappen’s future spawn’?!”

Charles snorts so hard that his espresso nearly spills. “Please don’t. George would spontaneously combust.”

“Plus technically speaking this is your fault,” Lando says, jabbing a finger at her.

She raises an eyebrow. “My fault? I’m not the one who told the entire world, ‘If it weren’t for the baby.’”

“That part was clearly Max’s fault,” Lando interjects, not looking up from his plate. “But this whole ‘let’s date secretly’ thing? Yeah, I’m blaming you for that one.”

“Excuse me?” Y/n shoots back.

“Don’t get defensive,” Charles says, holding his hands up. “But we told you this would end in disaster. And now? Look at you. Hiding in my garage like some kind of fugitive because George looks like he’s ready to blow up Redbull’s hospitality. You should have told George the second you two realized your relationship was serious.”

Y/n groans, tugging at her hair. “What’s done is done and I can’t change that now can I? And I’m here because I obviously can’t stay at the Mercedes garage if I want to avoid my brother and staying at Redbull is a deathwish. Imagine what’ll happen if he catches us both in the same place. I just hope George doesn't do anything stupid in public”

“Why do you think we’re here?” Lando says, grinning as he gestures to himself and Charles. “We’re like the UN Peacekeepers of the paddock. We’ll keep them both separate and make sure nothing happens today.”

“Like that's very reassuring,” Y/n mutters.

As the drivers line up for the national anthem, Y/n stays glued to the monitors, trying to keep a low profile. George, however, was impossible to miss.

“Great,” she mutters to herself as the camera pans to him. His jaw was clenched, his expression thunderous. It looked like he was barely holding himself together.

Oscar was hovering near George, subtly blocking him every time he shifted toward Max. Y/n couldn’t help but feel sorry for the Aussie, who looked like he’d accidentally wandered into a battlefield.

From his other side, Lando was casually draping an arm over his shoulder as if trying to calm him down. Instead, it seems to piss off George even more as he tried to shrug him off with a sharp glare, but Lando remained latched on.

“Please let this be over,” Y/n pleads at the screen.

The tension only escalated as the drivers headed to their cars. George made one last attempt to corner Max, and Y/n’s heart leaped into her throat.

“Oh no. Oh no. Don’t do it,” she whispered at the screen.

Oscar, ever the unwilling mediator, once again intercepted George, his hands up in a placating gesture. Y/n let out a relieved breath as George backed off, though he still looked furious.

She slumped back into her seat, her nerves frayed.

“Just one race,” she muttered to herself. “One race without drama. Is that too much to ask for?”

The drivers climbed into their cars, and the screen cut to the grid formation. Y/n felt a brief moment of peace, knowing that for the next couple of hours, George and Max would be too busy driving to tear into each other.

f1teaspill posted:

f1teaspill: Tensions are at an all-time high after today’s race! George Russell’s post-race interview took a dramatic turn when a journalist brought up Max’s cryptic baby comment and rumors about George’s sister. 😱 After repeatedly trying to dodge the question, George snapped, delivered a firm warning about personal boundaries, and stormed off.

The paddock drama just keeps escalating. Fans spotted George glaring at Max throughout the national anthem, and it seems like Oscar and Lando had to play paddock security to keep the peace. What’s your take on all this chaos? 🍼👀

Post-Race Interview Transcript:

Journalist: George, P5 today—a decent result to round out the season. Can you walk us through how you’re feeling about the race and the team’s performance?

George: (nodding) Yeah, it was a solid race. Not quite the result we hoped for, but the team worked hard all weekend. We gave it our best shot with the car we had. Of course, as a driver, you always want more, but I think we made the most of the opportunities we had out there.

Journalist: Fair enough. And, of course, today marks the end of an era with Lewis Hamilton’s final race for Mercedes. What’s it like to share this moment with him? Any reflections?

George: (pauses, visibly emotional) It’s bittersweet, really. Lewis has been such a huge part of the team and the sport as a whole. He’s not just a teammate but also a mentor and a legend in Formula 1. Sharing the garage with him has been an honor. I think I speak for everyone at Mercedes when I say we’re incredibly grateful for everything he’s brought to the team and wish him all the best for what comes next.

Journalist: Well said. Now, George, I have to shift gears a bit—there’s been a lot of chatter about some off-track tension. During the national anthem, fans couldn’t help but notice you glaring at Max Verstappen. Care to address that?

George: (stiffens, smile faltering) I wasn’t glaring at anyone. I was focused on the race, like I always am. People are reading into things that just aren’t there.

Journalist: Really? Because from the footage, it looked quite... pointed. And after Max’s comments yesterday about making peace with you ‘because of a baby,’ it’s hard not to wonder—

George: (cuts in, voice tight) I don’t see how that’s relevant to today’s race.

Journalist: (pressing) George, fans are speculating nonstop. Is it true? Is your sister having Max Verstappen’s baby?

George: (visibly bristling, voice rising) I think we’ve strayed far enough from the purpose of this interview. This is about Formula 1, about racing—not gossip or baseless rumors.

Journalist: With all due respect, George, Max’s words weren’t exactly cryptic. He was talking about a baby and making amends with you. Surely, you can understand why people are curious.

George: (snaps, voice sharp) Curious or not, it’s none of anyone’s business. This is supposed to be a post-race interview—not a soap opera recap. The media needs to learn where to draw the line. We’re here to race, not have our personal lives dissected under a microscope.

Journalist: But George, the fans—

George: (interrupts sharply) No. Enough. The media needs to maintain boundaries and stop meddling in our personal lives. I’m done here.

(George rips off his team cap, storms away from the interview pen, and disappears into the paddock, leaving the journalist and cameras stunned.)

Comments:

user: George was NOT here for the nonsense today. That ‘draw the line’ speech? ICONIC

user: Honestly, respect to George for standing up for himself. The journalist was pushing way too hard. Let the man race in peace user: Never seen George this mad before 😳 What is going on in the House of Commons???

user: Why do I feel like this confirms the baby news? Like he didn’t deny it, and his reaction was TOO intense

user: Respect to George for standing up to the journalist, but let’s not lie—he 100% confirmed the drama with that reaction. 🍼

user: Okay, but imagine George finding out about the baby at the same time as us 😭

user: George looked like he was going to deck Max during the national anthem. Thank you, Oscar, for literally being a human shield

user: No but why did George look like he was seconds away from body-slamming Max during the anthem? Lando had to literally hold him back 💀

user: Okay, but the real question is… what BABY? Whose baby? Did George even KNOW about this baby before today?!

user: Theory time! 1. Max and Y/n were dating in secret. 2. George didn’t know about the baby and is spiraling. 3. Netflix is eating GOOD

user: Imagine being George and learning about your sister’s alleged baby from Twitter

user: Lewis’ last race with Merc and THIS is what George has to deal with. Poor guy’s gonna need therapy after this season

user: The way everyone’s ignoring this is also Lewis’ last race with Mercedes 💀. George snapped so hard we forgot to be emotional

user: Lando probably whispered something dumb like ‘You’re doing amazing, sweetie’ while George was vibrating with rage

user: F1 isn’t just a sport. It’s a reality TV show with occasional car racing

Max stood under the glare of the cameras, trying to look composed despite the post-race fatigue gnawing at him. P6 wasn’t what he’d wanted, but at least he’d avoided the chaos brewing elsewhere in the paddock—or so he thought.

“So, the strategy was clearly compromised by the penalty,” the journalist asked, her tone probing. “Do you think there was any way to recover from that?”

Max nodded slightly, his words coming out measured. “Yeah, it was tough. We lost track position early, and once you’re in traffic—”

“Sorry to interrupt.”

The voice was eerily calm, almost polite, but it carried a weight that immediately silenced the conversation. Max turned to see George standing there, his posture casual but his jaw clenched tight.

The journalist blinked, clearly taken aback. “Uh, George? We’re in the middle of—”

“I need a moment with Max,” George cut her off, his tone civil but firm. He glanced at Max’s PR manager with an unnervingly calm smile. “I hope you don’t mind.”

The PR manager hesitated, looking between Max and George. Max let out a quiet sigh, already resigned to whatever was about to unfold. He gave a small nod. “It’s fine. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Before anyone could say another word, George’s hand clamped onto Max’s shoulder. It wasn’t rough, but it left no room for argument.

Max allowed himself to be steered away, his body language slumping slightly as though accepting his fate. George didn’t say a word as he guided Max through the paddock, weaving past mechanics and team personnel. A few glanced their way, their curiosity piqued, but no one dared to intervene.

“Are you going to say something, or are we just walking in ominous silence?” Max finally muttered, keeping his tone light but knowing full well George wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

George didn’t respond, his grip tightening slightly as they turned into a quieter corridor behind the team hospitality units.

“Okay,” Max said with a dry laugh, “this is starting to feel like a bad cop drama.”

George stopped abruptly, spinning Max around and slamming him against the wall. The thud echoed in the empty space, and Max winced slightly but didn’t resist.

“We need to talk,” George said, his voice low and steely, every word laced with barely contained anger.

Max met his gaze, his usual unflappable demeanor faltering under the intensity of George’s glare. For a moment, the air between them was thick with tension, unspoken words hanging heavy in the silence.

Taglist: @ilovechickenwings @spooky-librarian-ghost @diaryofarandomkid @rd14 @hc-dutch @96mcobo @grussellsprout @tremendousstarlighttragedy @awritingtree @shelbyteller @diorbrxtz

@henna006 @freyathehuntress @nichmeddar @formulaal @sleutherclaw

@anilovessadbooks @mangotaitai @vtryy @finn-dot-com @sarahsobsession

[yeyinde]

Would you consider writing a poly141 version of the babytrap universe? Completely understand if it’s not to your interest to write, but I would love to see that story play out in your delicious writing style :)

ohh, absolutely. i think the best way to do it would be to have poor reader, desperate for a family of her own, and making the stupid decision to hand her resignation into Price.

and then admitting, shyly, that there's no man in your life, just a donor waiting for you to sign the papers and make the deposit for the procedure. thanking him for everything he's done, of course; but you're excited for this new chapter in your life.

He accepts it. Sure. Smiles tightly, and says, "good luck." Calls a meeting after to discuss it with the rest of the team. Closed door. A little unusual, but nothing that immediately raises your hackles. You're too busy cleaning up your desk to really pay much attention to hushed whispers in Price's office. Happy to celebrate, too, when Johnny invited you out for drinks after. Tae say goodbye properly, he said, and looking back, you should have seen through the faux sadness draped over his brow. Picked up on the giddy excitement buzzing around him as he led you to the bar, as he offered to get you drinks. Handed you an open bottle. Tipping it back for you to drink more. 

Keep goin’, doe. Drink ‘er up. 

Another one. Another. Your head swims. Kyle is there, hands warm on your waist, breath rippling across the sweat gathering on the nape of your neck. 

“C’mon, birdie. Have a shot with me.” He coos, bringing the glass to your lips, chest glued to your spine. “Can't believe you want a baby. Fuck, birdie, that's—”

Johnny murmurs something under his breath. You blamed the three glasses of whiskey sour (Price wouldn't let you have anything else) and a shot of tequila for why it sounded like,

hope it's mine—

To the left of you, Ghost snorts under his breath. Shifts in the stool that creaks, whining under his weight. You blink through fog seeping into your head, this strange, syrupy torpor that bleeds into the corners of your vision, makes everything feel muted, far away, and turned to him with a pout. 

He'd been acting strange ever since Price told him your plans. Quieter, somehow. But—

There. 

Everywhere. 

Your fixed shadow. Looming in the corners. 

You make to ask him what the hell he's doing, why he's following you around, but the words slosh out in a tangle. Incompressible.

Ghost huffs. His gloved hand lifts, falls to your throat, holding you steady with his thumb digging shallowly into your pulse. 

“Careful,” he mocks, dragging the word out like he was speaking to a misbehaving child. It bristles through you, but your tongue is thick. Liquid in your mouth. “Got a big night ahead o’you yet, pet. Try not t’hurt yourself before I get to knock you up.”

Distantly, you think you hear Gaz say something—oi, mate, maybe—but there's a shrill ringing in your ear that drowns it all out. A cotton spooling in your head. You blink—foolishly—and lean into his palm, mouth dropping in surprise. Shock. 

Horror. 

“Wha—?”

But it's too late, of course. What you thought were the comforting threads of a warm blanket spooling over your shoulders was the silken strands of a spider's web the whole time. Caught in their trap. 

And then you come to with a warm weight pressed against your back, a thick, hairy arm slung around your shoulders. Trapping you tight against a warm, broad chest.

“Want a baby, mm?” your captain coos in your ear, humid breath tickling your skin. Dampening it slightly as he leans in close, lips pressed to the shell—a warm, wet heat that makes you tremble—and adds: “fine, love. Since you want one so bad—” 

An arm lashes out of the shadows dancing around the room; through the heavy haze, the fog in your head (the last thing you remember is being offered a drink by Johnny, another by Kyle—), you struggle to make sense of what's happening around you as rough, dry fingers curl over your knee, prying your thighs apart: 

“—then we'll give it to you.”

You watch, dazed, dizzy, as cherryred knuckles slip down the valley of your spread legs, the ink on their thick fingers flexing, dancing, in the slip of pale moonlight until they curl into the hem of your panties, tugging the fabric roughly to the side. 

The sudden swell of cold air on your exposed cunt makes you gasp. Your knees jerking, trying to fold together to hide yourself, preserve some modicum of modesty, but the hand on your flesh tightens. Prevents you from moving. It keeps you open for their gaze. Lets them all gawk at the wide knuckles pressed against the seam of your pussy. Flushed in the low light. Dripping—

In the murk, someone groans—

“Shoulda told us sooner you wanted a fuckin’ baby, sweet’art. Woulda given you one sooner before y’had to go an’ do somethin’ so foolish—”

Foolish. Like paying for another man to put a baby inside of you when that privilege belongs to them. And them alone.

And really—

You should have known better.