#im this close to kicking the chair

[yurifier3000]

up thinking abt hoshiumi kourai…. born to analyse hoshiumi kourai as a volleyball player forced to write uni applications…

hoshiumi caught dead in a glue trap

[bitewounded]

in order to be more normal i think i need to explode my twitter for good

[murdleandmarot]

Reached an emotional low (kicked a chair really hard, scratched my temple until there was visible mark, severely fucked up and kicked one of my friends). Surely this can be solved by self isolating and going to bed at an unreasonable hour ❤️

[snaileer]

I’m a Size Medium, Thanks - 2

Part one: https://www.tumblr.com/snaileer/766471879423885312/im-a-size-medium-thanks

Danny stares into the eyes of what has got to be the grumpiest looking 12-14?10? How tall are children?- year old he’s ever met. And he grew up with Sam!

Danny looks back through the door, hoping to everything that an adult walks through. He is disappointed.

“Well?” The boy snaps, foot tapping.

“Uh, can I help.. you?” Danny says, voice ticking up. That’s what you’re supposed to say at a job right? Or maybe the kid wasn’t supposed to be here, “Do you need to call someone…?” He hopes not, he doesn’t know how or if the shop has a phone, and his… well his is wired through a realm of the dead so enough said there.

“My name is Damian Wayne.” He says primly. And expectantly.

Danny looks outside again, past the neon sign he specifically hadn’t turned on, then back at the Damian kid, blinking. There’s no way this was that ‘Mr.Wayne.’

The kid rolls his eyes impressively well then drops his glare back onto Danny, “Has this absurd incense burned away whatever meager sense you were born with? I am here to have a so-called ‘reading’ with a medium.”

If Danny hadn’t seen this Damian kid walk in with three whisps of shades wrapped around his arms, Danny would have questioned why, but he did, so he doesn’t.

He does, however, say: “Aren’t you a little young… to be like.. talking about death or something?” Though honestly, the incense is a real concern, Danny hadn’t even lit any today, Claire had just left it burning and the whole room was saturated.

“Will you fulfill your job description or not, you peasant?” The kid grits out.

Danny would really rather not. Like really rather not. But nOoo, here he was, waiting for a portal that could show up at any time, pretending he was a medium for a 7 year old just because he could talk to ghosts.

Danny sighs and drags himself around the counter to go into Claire’s weird little seance room. Maybe the fumes will kill him before the embarrassment does.

The kid follows.

Danny drops himself into Claire’s chair with weirdly plush armrests for still being so uncomfortable.

“Alright then, let’s get this over with. I’m Danny, the -ugh- medium. Whatdya wanna know?” Danny says as he kicks his leg out to hit a shade getting agitated and grabby by Damian’s feet. They got way too much of a spiritual boost from this room for Danny to be comfortable with it.

Damian watches him with a raised eyebrow, still not sitting down, “Aren’t you meant to lead the seance?”

Danny’s lip curls in distaste, he huffs a sigh and lets his shoulders drop, opening his mouth to tell this 9-year old something easy about one of his shades and be done-

He spots a sticky note stuck on the crystal ball.

-Danny, don’t forget, the showmanship is important! I trust you know how to meet expectations! Happy first day!

- Claire <3

Danny feels his face go deadpan. He was going to have this woman committed. That’s what he was going to do. She could be studied for the degenerative cognitive effects of being freaking bazonkers.

Danny plucks the note off the crystal ball and crumples it, letting the trash drop to the abyss that is Claire’s plush carpet.

He sighs, looking back up at Damian. The kid snaps his head towards him from where he’d been poking around the curtained walls- weirdo- but Danny beats him to the snappy comment.

“You got any spiritually charged items? Or like… something?” Danny says, taking a guess, he can make the thingy glow, say some nonsense, get paid, and close.

Damian narrows his eyes at him, but slowly moves to sit in the other chair, perched on the edge of the seat. He pulls something from his pocket and sets it on the table.

Pearls.

It’s a clump of shiny white pearls.

Absolutely dripping in ectoplasmic blood stains. So lovely.

Does Claire have biohazard gloves because oh gosh-

Danny hesitantly reaches for the pearls, lifting the strand between two fingers as he looks between it and the 12 year old. “You sure this is what you want to ask about?”

The kid’s glare turns challenging, mocking, “What? Admitting you are nothing but a charlatan?”

Danny grimaces, “Not quite. I mean…” He looks at the pearls again, then at the shade trying to hack away at the kids neck, “There’s definitely someone or something attached to this it’s just… not .. yours.”

“Tt,” the boy clicks his tongue at him, ��and how exactly would you know that, charlatan?” Damian levels a mocking look up and down at him.

Danny’s eye twitches as he grimaces a smile, “Part of the job-“ brat. Danny doesn’t say that. Danny can’t say that. Danny has to deal with death obsessed TODDLERS who want to talk about some rando’s gruesome murder just so he can eat tonight. Or find somewhere to sleep. He doubts this will be enough for both.

Maybe if he’s dramatic enough.

Alright get to it then, Danny.

He sighs, dimming the light with Claire’s little remote- he is not so far gone as to turn them green like she had- and actually focusing his energy on the pearl necklace.

“What are you-“

Danny holds up a finger at Damian to silence him, which surprisingly works. He closes his eyes and starts trying to absorb the vibes of ectoplasmic remains as slowly as he can.

Feelings of course come with it and- well what’d ya know, he can definitely feel this attached to a ghost somewhere in this city.

“It’s a woman’s… younger than she should have been when she…”

He can hear Damian scoff, “Obviously, anyone could tell me that.”

Danny rolls his eyes under his eyelids, debating the merits of opening one to glare at him when his eyes are definitely glowing.

“She’s still here but-“ Danny says instead, trying to pull on the connection wandering out into the streets, “She can’t come here here.”

“What do you mean?” The boy snaps.

Danny tries to focus harder on it himself, he’s never done this before, tried to find or communicate with a ghost from an object… it was like Pointdexter and his mirror.

“She’s stuck somewhere… somewhere more important.. it’s dark and narrow and Danny mentally rears back as images flash into his mind. Accompanied of course by a woman’s scream.

An alley. A gun. A man stepping in front of her to protect her- no not her- a kid- Damian- not Damian- looks like-

Danny opens his eyes and drops the necklace. There’s barely any ectoplasm left on it.

Fine with him, he never wants to touch it again. But yuck that means he absorbed it!! Oh ewwww-

“Well?” An impatient voice asks and- oh yeah that’s right, the rude ass kid.

Danny pushes the pearls across the table with a finger and looks up at him, “Woman in an alley, that familiar to you?”

Damian’s eyes narrow, “Anyone who knows who I am could tell me the same.”

Danny snaps, “I don’t-!“ This is a child Danny, a child, he takes a deep breath, “Well she was scared for the kid, and now is… proud of him? There’s a lot of concern there, but she still watches him I guess, so that’s all I got for ya.”

Damian scrutinizes him for a minute, silent. Darn, weren’t mediums supposed to be vague as heck so that anything could apply and the person would find their own meaning? But did it count if he was just translating the vibes off a shade half a city away?

“This is…. acceptable.”

Danny nearly sags in relief and moves to stand, “Cool, then-“

“Wait.” The kid holds up a hand, “You said something regarding a disparity in the proposed ownership of the apparition you believed to be related to this jewelry.”

Danny blinks at him dumbly.

Damian scoffs again, “That the apparition attached to this necklace was ‘not mine,’ as you said??” He snarks, putting air quotes up.

Danny slowly sinks back down into the chair. “… Well yeah I mean..” does he tell this 8 year old about the slightly murderous shades he’s got around him? “You have… you have a couple… apparations… yourself. Not related to the pearls that is.” Danny says hesitantly, eyes skipping over said shades.

Damian jerks his head to follow his eyes and Danny shirks back, eyes back on the kid.

“Who are they? Tell me now,” Damian demands, standing to loom over the table.

Danny puts his hands up in surrender, “Whoa, I don’t know about that, they don’t really seem too happy with you-“ Another one tries to slice his hand through Damian’s neck, “I think you did something to them or made them angry at some point. I don’t really think you should try to contact them-“ Danny winces, that could end very badly. Thank goodness for limited ectoplasm access.

Meanwhile, his answer seems to have only made Damian more upset, his eyes wide as he stares down at Danny.

Suddenly the kid turns and stamps towards the door, leaving Danny to hurriedly push the chair out and chase after him to the main room.

Except-

When he gets there Damian is already shooting hushed insults at a man standing amongst the crystals.

The man looks vaguely like Damian, black hair, blue eyes, lithe build, and oh also- surrounded by shades of course.

These ones seem less vicious at least.

Please don’t be here for him. Please don’t be here for him.

Danny really doesn’t want to try and fake his way through another hour or however long it’s been of that.

“Hey there! I’m Dick, Damian’s brother!” The man says suddenly, pushing Damian aside and coming forward with a cheery grin, “Thanks for humoring him!”

Danny tilts his head to see Damian’s scowling face behind the man. Right.

“Uh huh… I’m Danny.” He says, trying not to be distracted by what he’s pretty sure is a baby elephant’s ghost behind him.

“You’re the medium right? We were just so interested to see if that old family heirloom would have anything or not. We-“

“We?” Damian cuts him off with a scoff, “I will meet you in the vehicle Richard. I will not spend another minute in this house of charlatans.”

They both watch as the kid turns and stomps out the door, uncrossing his arms only to open the door and stomp out. The stupid bell rings merrily.

This time it’s not Danny who sighs.

“I wish he wouldn’t say things like that,” Dick says wearily, “I grew up in places like this.” There’s a note of nostalgia to his voice. Danny just eyes the bowl of ‘fertility’ crystals warily, what kind of place??

Dick must see him do it because he huffs a laugh, “I grew up in a circus originally,” he explains, “So psychic places always just kinda remind me of my auntie’s tents.”

Danny glances at the elephant shaped ghost again, “Wow that makes so much sense actually.”

The guy raises a confused eyebrow at him.

Danny coughs awkwardly, waving it away, “So, money?” He claps, “I’m guessing you’re paying since Damian is…” Danny trails off, opting not to make a final guess on age and embarrass himself.

Dick laughs again and they go over to the counter, “Yep, here-“ He pulls out his wallet, rifling through cash before pulling some out, “Cash only yeah? This should be enough.”

Danny stares at the stack of slightly rumpled bills, “But- huh?…” that was… that was so much…

“Oh I added extra since I’m sure he probably said some things he shouldn’t have, don’t worry about it.”

Dick is already halfway out the door when Danny reloads and jerks upwards, “Wai-“

Could Danny really stop him? Should he? He needed this money but… he stops to count it. $20..40..60..80..100..120….140……160….180……….$200.

Danny blanches. He lurches for the door, no way he can take this much money just for basically acting as a glorified ecto-translator.

Danny stops in his tracks as he steps outside the shop and spots Dick and Damian speaking to a third, much older person, over the hood of a sleek black car.

This person, of course, also has several, several, shades around them.

What the hell was wrong with this family?

Damian turns and glares his way.

Oh ancients what if they were part of the mob or something.

Danny spins around on his heel-

And smacks straight into the glass door of the shop.

…

Ow.

Danny rubs his nose as he fumbles around for the door handle, acutely aware the death covered family was probably staring at him.

He grabs the handle and pulls-

Danny freezes, hand on his sore face stopping. He opens his eyes as he yanks again. Nothing.

Oh heck, he just locked himself out didn’t he?

No please no, they were so definitely still staring, no way they weren’t. Danny pulls again and it finally-

He looks at the door handle in his hand.

Then at the door still closed in front of him.

Then back at the door handle.

Just the door handle.

Crap.

Danny nearly weeps, clumsily fitting the door handle back on and still adamantly refusing to look and see if Damian and his absurdly rich family has left yet. Other people on the street are also starting to stare. The same reason he can’t just use his powers.

He finally gets the handle back on and gingerly lets go of it.

Ok. Deep breath.

Claire warned you about this. With a sticky note, but all the same. Extra key is taped on the bottom of the fire hydrant right outside the shop. You’ve got this.

Danny turns, kneels, and frantically begins trying to find the key on the absurdly dirty fire hydrant.

His hands come away black with grime, but thankfully he has the key.

He puts it in the lock and turns it, hearing what may very well be the newest sound of his nightmares: a snap.

Most specifically the sound of the key snapping in Danny’s very hands.

Danny stares at the half of the key still held between his fingers.

Did he do something to this city? Was this his fault? Could he not just sit in a closet and wait for the portal to open and go home?

Danny sags against the door, and resigns himself to his fate. Maybe he can go get food… with the money he left on the counter. Great.

Danny peeks his eyes sideways and catches the guy, Dick, finally getting into their car.

Okay, just a tiny bit just a bit. Danny holds the key again, focuses on the lock in the door jam and….. intangible!

He yanks the door open and jumps inside, door closing against the flutters of quickly fading shades on the street.

And more than one scream at them but hey that’s not his problem.

Mostly.

Danny revels in the cool lighting of the shop, glaring at the stupid broken key in his grimy hands. He drops the useless bit of metal on the counter, pockets the cash and wipes his hands on the backside of one of Claire’s million wall curtains.

It leaves a black stain that basically disappears when Danny folds the fabric over it.

Oh well.

Technically the shop was still open.

And technically, Danny didn’t know if the lock did or didn’t work right now.

He moves to find whatever storage closet Claire used to store her absurd number of crystals.

He finds it- finally- and using the keys he left in the store to begin with, he is able to unlock the perfect place to sleep tonight amongst several packages of…. Some kind of incense powder… or something. He doesn’t really care because that plan of hiding in a closet till the portal opens? Yeah, Danny’s putting that into action right the frick now.

He bends down to start to lay out his sweatshirt over the cardboard bed-to-be.

A bell rings in the distance.

Danny is going to destroy that bell on the door, he swears it.

[wanderingcritter]

My daily schedule according to anti-kin mfs

3am: get up to aggressively bark and howl at the moon for 2 hours, waking all of my neighbors up in the process

6am: make myself a well rounded breakfast consisting exclusively of raw deer meat

6:30am: scream and cry for half an hour because my mom is forcing me to go to school and wolves CLEARLY do not go to school. my life is hell

7am: throw all of my deodorant in the trash because it blocks my natural 💫 𝓅𝒽ℯ𝓇ℯ𝓂ℴ𝓃ℯ𝓈💫

8am: arrive at school wearing my fav buttplug tail and galaxy wolf shirt

8:30am: have a vague memory of having graduated high school already, but that cant be true because no therian is older than 16 so here i am

9am: yell at my classmates for calling me a human and tell them that they're being therianphobic, and that im going to cancel them on twitter and make sure they never get jobs

9:30am: enter psychosis

10am: angrily email the school board for the 8th time this week because they won't put litter boxes in the bathrooms for me which is therianphobic oppression

10:30am: sit alone in a corner and growl/hiss at any humans who get too close to me

11am: enter psychosis

12pm: single handedly regress the trans rights movement by 10 years

1:30pm: refuse to sit in a chair for class and instead perch up on a desk. teacher threatens to kick me out, tragically i am forced to comply

2:30pm: cast a spell on one of my religious classmates as i leave school using my evil devil anti-human anti-christian magic

3pm: more raw deer meat omnomnomnom

5pm: enter psychosis

5:30pm: burn a picture of charles darwin in my trashcan because i hate all of that therianphonic science and biology nonsense. you can't tell me what to do CHARLES

6pm: enter psychosis

7pm: enter psychosis

8pm: i curl up in my nest of roadkill bones and sheets that haven't been washed in 3 months and gently fall asleep <3

[yaymiyas]

THE HUSBAND

warning: female reader, saer being….saer, yan!isekai!crown prince

a/n: i was so burnt out so lets see what i come up with ….its short ik and yes im cooking up something w cynthia LET ME COOK 🫡🙄🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯💯

the idea of divorce was swimming in the mist of your mind hours before you regained most of the movement in your body. you knew you had to get out of this situation in a peaceful but quick manner. in your mind, leaving saer should have been easy since he hated edina more than the devil himself. he saw her as a shit stain satan left on earth to torture him for all of his days. so why are tears running down his face…thats odd? from all of the tweets, forums, and blogs saer had close to no emotions for edina. he hated her through and through. in the original story, he would’ve cheered of joy if she simply asked to part ways. so why was he sitting in front of you crying? was the bacon too salty? was he remembering the good ol’ times with his late father? ever since you’ve transmigrated into this story, everything has been so weird. aside from you being close to perfectly fine after being fed poison, saer has became more careful.

in the book, saer was close to a bubbling idiot. every single assassination attempt was stopped by a maid because he was stupid. he always played it as cynthia and amanda favoring edina but that wasnt the full truth. he was just too obvious with everything he was doing. you actually kind of felt back for the dummy, no wonder gracie wants nothing to do with him. regardless of any of that, you actually started to feel a bit bad for him. it was obvious saer didnt know why he was crying or how to stop it by the way his face was balled up in red confusion. maybe it was out of guilt or for the plot, either way you wanted to help him. maybe he wanted to kill you but seeing a grown man cry really did break your heart.

“now, saer..”

gently pushing your hand out to cover his larger ones, you put on a voice of concern. you want to help the poor idiot but you also want to get out of this house alive. maybe playing the sweet docile wife could do you some good, maybe—

“ugh, stupid bitch get off of me.”

slapping your hand off of his, saer attempted to keep a face of pure disgust plastered for you to see. why on earth was he crying, and why on earth are you being so off-putting? at first, your new actions didnt really bother him. were they different? yes, but they weren’t unpleasant. but now...it was as if the poison made you utterly indifferent to his presence, which he told himself he loved, but the lord knows thats a lie. you quietly sitting there, dry-face, with a slight frown and uninterested body language, angered him. saer was crying purely for reactions. he thought that crying would help him close this conversation and make you jump up and beg for his forgiveness, but no. all you did was lift your grimly, beastly fingers to ‘comfort’ him. what a joke of a woman.

“im finished with my breakfast”

the scream of the chair was louder than your own thoughts, kicking you out of your own subconscious. what even was that about? you were TRYING to be the version of edina you thought he would like, second from you killing yourself right there and then. so why was he acting like you were trying to jump his bones? he is such a wicked man….such a sad excuse of a person. its such a shame his attitude is so sour, you were going to try to soften his walls to see if he would lighten up on the poisoning situation. how did he get it? who did he get it from?

“madam,”

lightly placing her hand on your shoulder, cynthia appeared. scaring you out of your thoughts, you straightened your back and put on the best fake smile you could. you knew cynthia didnt really care for you, as demonstrated by the bath she gave you earlier, but you thought that maybe you could melt this ice queen. her soft ginger coils shaped her face in all the right places, giving her olive skin the type of glow women in the real world would kill for. she had green eyes to match alone with it, making it easy to find yourself lost in them. cynthia was a beautiful woman; just how did she become a maid for this jackass?

“his royal highness has ordered for you to be sent to your room.”

[vroomingrussell]

Risks & Rewards

Charles Leclerc x Reader

For the purpose of the story Charles & Alex relationship is important and is mentioned but timeline is fictional. This is a one night stand fic with hidden pregnancy being the main plot. Warning; Google translated French?

Monaco. May 26th 2024.

There was nothing but passion between the two of you, your bodies moving together in sync with pleasure as if you were still on the dance floor of the club you had met at.

You’d been in town for the Monaco Grand Prix, invited by Kika, one of your best friends and colleagues. You’d spent the day watching the race and then the night celebrating the historic win of the Monegasque driver, Prince of the people.

He was a friend of a friend, high off of defeating his previous ill fated incidents and claiming a space of his country’s history books.

Music soared and bodies met, one thing led to another and you found yourselves tangled in the sheets of your hotel room, a night fuel and lust, passion and alcohol.

The next morning thankfully there was no awkward tension, he’d left before the sun had peaked from the skies.

It did not matter; the night was fun, something people did when they were young and wild.

—

However, a month later, back at home, you began to feel the difference, morning sickness and missed period but the at home test debunked the theory, after two months, and a doctor check up, you found out the night that fulfilled a wild fantasy of fleeting pleasure, had left a what you believed to be a reward.

You debated messaging Charles, it was easy getting his number from Pierre, the problem was that you had no idea what to say ‘hi, we had a one night stand and now im pregnant with your child which I want to keep’ did not sound right in your head, plus from your source of all things Charles -Kika and Pierre- he now had a girlfriend. Their relationship seems picturesque, they made a gorgeous couple and you truly were happy for him, after all, you had no feels for the man, with plenty of consideration, you decided to keep your little surprise from Charles. It was highly unlikely that your paths would cross again, your only connection to his world was Pierre and Kika, whom, you had to swear to secrecy, you barely saw them anyways, so you existed almost completely outside of his bubble.

——

Monaco. December 2024.

You’d been in Monaco for a few days with Kika, she had insisted you two had some relaxing girl time before you couldn’t travel due to the baby. You’d spent the days, shopping, eating and at the spa, being seven months along kept you from the lifestyle you once had in the same country, not that you minded, nothing brought you more joy that preparing for the arrival of your daughter.

Sun poured into the cafe, it was a nice welcome to the chilly winter air that hugged the city, a latte and scones sat infront of you, Kika was running late for your day of, shopping, so you sat alone, reading through a magazine from the shop when they bell above the door chimed. You looked up, thinking it was your friend, when you were met with a familiar set of eyes, you remembered its beautiful shade of green.

Charles.

You quickly looked away, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, you’d met once, over seven months ago, he wasn’t likely to remember you. For a few moments you were spared as he went to the counter and placed his order. Seconds felt like hours as he stood across the cafe from you, the shop felt tight, like you were trapped in a shoe box of memories and decisions you couldn’t escape.

The little one began moving around and kicking in your stomach. Instinctively, your hand rest on your swollen belly, it’s as if she could sense her father, so close.

The chime of the door came again, this time it was Kika “Sorry, sorry” she apologized and made her way to you “Pirre insisted on driving” she flopped her bag down on the chair infront of yours before hugging you in greeting.

“It’s fine, your goddaughter wakes me too early” you smiled, feeling the tension from your shoulders lift a little.

Her arrival did not go unnoticed by Charles as he wondered coffee in hand to say hello to her. You watched on quietly as she hugged him and exchanged pleasantries then to your horror, she introduced you “you remember my friend, Y/N?” God you wished he didn’t.

“Of course yes” he says, a slight blush, probably from the memory of your night together.

Kika quietly disappeared to the counter, leaving you two alone.

You smiled politely and stuck your hand out for him to shake “nice to meet you again”

“You too, and uh congratulations” He says “how many months?”

Your heart dropped, he couldn’t figure it, not so quickly, his soft polite smile never left his face, he was just being nice and asking for conversations sake, he didn’t know and probably didn’t truly care.

But you saw this as the moment to come clean, after all you had kept it from him for seven months, guilt had led you to his inbox many many times only to close out the message before you could hit send.

“Seven months” You say, watching him intently. You saw the moment it registered, the moment his smile fell. He slumped down in the seat in front of you.

“Seven months” he repeated “that would mean, wait me? I am the father?” He says softer, just above a whisper. There wasn’t anyone but you, him and Kika in the shop at the moment, but you understood this was no place for this revelation.

You only nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because, what would have changed? You don’t want to be the father, you don’t have to be..I’m not asking you to be”

“Putain de merde!” He cursed “still you should have told me”

“I’m sorry Charles, I just did what I thought was best. I wanted her, you did not ask for this. I don’t want to be a burden, I want nothing from you”

“She? We are having a daughter”

“I am having a girl, yes. You do not have to be her father Charles, you have a wonderful life, a beautiful girlfriend, you just got a dog together, you don’t have to let what happened months ago change your life, I have to leave” Quickly, you got up and grabbed your bag, existing the cafe as quickly as possible. Thankfully neither Charles nor Kika followed you as you headed back to your hotel.

You laid in bed for the rest of the day, cradling your stomach, your baby was yours, you loved her so deeply, you didn’t need Charles. You had a wonderful family that supported you and loved your unborn child as well.

Later in the afternoon, there was a knock on your door, you opened it with the expectation that Kika had come to drag you out of your mood, but to your surprise it was Charles.

“Please let us talk for a moment, I just want to understand”

You nodded and moved aside, letting him in.

“I brought you some food, we can have dinner together”

“Charles, you didn’t have to”

“I know but I wanted to”

“Thank you” you got yourself comfortable on your bed again “come on sit let’s talk”

“She’s mine? I don’t doubt you but she’s is mine”

“Yes, the condoms neither of us had” The Heat of the moment had left you both a little hay brained.

“And she’s due in January… do you have a date?” As you ate, you answered all the questions he had, which was a lot.

“I spoke to Alex” he said at the end “I want to be present in the babies life, I want her to know me as much as possible. I don’t want her to be without a father”

“Charles you know you don’t have to, you don’t have to feel responsible for what happened, you don’t have to feel obligated, keeping the baby was my choice”

“I know I don’t have to do anything, but will you let me?”

For a moment you thought about it, the questions she’d have about her father, who he was, what he did, where was he. As much as you wanted to live in a bubble with your baby girl, away from what her life would look like split between two parent.

“You know what, you have a right to be in her life in you choose, but promise me you won’t hurt her Charles”

“Can I?” He asked before gently placing a hand on your stomach “I promise to do everything in my power to make her happy and safe”

[romana-after-dark]

Keep Running, Little Bunny!

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Masterlist

Buy Me A Coffee : Kofi : Go Fund Me

Summary: Logan takes you, but gives you a chance to escape... what isn't he telling you?

Warnings: NON CON DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Logan is a masochist and a bit of a sadist but def more into the pain. Feral!Logan, primal kink, THIS IS NON NON, READER AND LOGAN GET SLICED UP! I'm not listing everything here, just please read with caution! Physical and sexual violence! Somno!

Immersivity: Reader is fem, afab, able bodied

A/N: first time writing Logan!!! Im obssed with him after deadpool wolverine but the only other Wolverine movie ive seen was that really bad one in like japan or something lmfao. I do wanna watch them all now (Oscar Isaac is in apocalypse!) This may not be the most correct but I'm trying. Lemme know if you wan more Logan!

Divider by @xxbimbobunnyxx

Im late but I wanted to do the manspreading for the manspreading olympics by @toxicanonymity

"You're a hard girl to get a hold of, princess."

Logan is sitting across from the bed you've woken up in, in a chair with his legs spread wide. You can see the bulge in his pants from how he touched you, caressing your sleeping body as you slowly woke up from whatever you were given. His hands slid up your loose shorts, a single finger slipping in and out of your hole, making sure the first words you woke up to were, "Are you always this wet?" with his hot breath fluttering on your skin.

Slowly, the memories began to come to you: how you fought and kicked and screamed as Logan tried to drag you away, him shoving the chloroformed rag in your mouth until you passed out gagging... 

Now here you were, watching him as he palmed his hardness in front of you.

"i thought X-men were good guys." You spit, arms crossed over your chest as you watch him touch himself.

He shrugs with a little smirk on the right side of his face. "I wouldn't call myself a good guy. Never have. Saving the world is one thing... but I think I'm owed a little something on the side."

You laugh at that, a bark of a laugh that signals the disbelief that he's actually speaking to you right now, saying such things. "I don't owe you shit!"

"Maybe not. Doesn't matter though, because I'm gonna let you go." Logan groans, stroking a long, hard drag down the line of his cock in his pants.

This makes you narrow your eyes, suspicious. "What do you mean?"

"I'm gonna let you go. Gonna let you make a run for it. Here." He tosses a knife to the bed, making you flinch but then you quickly grab it, eyeing him. He's still touching himself, but with an agonized sigh he lets go. You wonder if he was close... Logan stands up, opening the door to the small, one room cabin and letting you see the trees outside. "Half a mile west there's a road. Not used a whole lot but someone is bound to come by, pick you up. I'll give you a head start, and you can use that knife on me. You can kill me if you try hard enough. Little fighter like you, might even be able to get the slip on me."

You blink. This can't be real. "This is a trick, isn't it... you're gonna punish me for running, or, or for stabbing you..."

Logan shakes his head, gesturing out to where the sun was setting fast. "Nope, won't punish you for that. Just like a challenge, that's all."

"There's... there a catch, isn't there... something you aren't telling me."

For a moment his face is still, like he's trying to put on a poker face. Then, a smile breaks. "I've never been a good lair. yeah, there's something I'm not tell'n yuh, bub, but really, what choice do you have?"

As you rise from the bed, he stands back. You hold out the knife, and he keeps his hands up, palms towards you... his face was almost condescending... but what choice did you have. Once you back away several steps, you turn around and make a run for it. You weren't exactly sure his powers, but given his name was wolverine you were fairly certain speed was one of them.

"I'll count down from 100!" Logan calls after you, his voice starting to sound distant. "100... 99...98... keep running little bunny! 97... 96..."  You faintly hear the 95 before you're out of earshot, running as fast as your legs can take you through the woods. Jumping over logs and stumbling down hills, you run more than you have since your high school made you do a mile, your out of shape body struggling to take in oxygen. Tree branches smacked your face, leaves wet with dew, the little sticks drawing blood on your cheek but you don't dare stop, not for a second. 

Something zooms past you nearby, a rustling of bushes an the faint sound of '10' in your ear, before all goes still again. You're close, you have to be.

'5'

Shit, shit. You grip the knife in your fist as you try to pick up speed, tired legs carrying you as fast as they'll go but it's not enough.

Logan is in front of you, a broad smile on his face and hands gripping your shoulders to stop you. "One." 

You scream, stabbing him in the rib cage expecting him to shout in pain but instead he moans in pleasure. No time to process this, you kick him in the dick and shove him over, making a run for it again, but Logan grabs your foot, causing you to fall face first into the dirt and grass. Strong arms yank you, despite crawling as nothing, and suddenly you are under him. 

"No!" You try to get away, but he's too strong, too quick, pinning your hands down and he looms over you.

"Pretty little bunny... running so fast..." Logan cocks his head to the side. "Not quite fast enough, eh?" Leaning down, Logan licks a stripe up your cheek, tasting the blood on your face. "Tasty little bunny..."

Your hand with the knife continues to be pinned down, Logan bracing his entire weight on your wrist while he undoes his pants, freeing his cock from the restraints. The throbbing member lay heavy against your thigh, a size you can only guess from the feeling and for a moment you think he's going to take off your shorts the same way. Then, Logan placed his knuckles at the base of your shorts and suddenly there's a stinging, sharp pain running up your leg and to your waist.

"Fuck!!!" No one is around to hear you screaming, no one except Logan who thrust his fist out, tearing your shorts and underwear to literal shreds.

When cock is thrust into you, you can't even scream anymore as the sounds get lodged into your throat, trapped in there just as you are now, his body caging you.

"Fuck'n tight there, princess. Is that fear, or is that all you?" You respond with a slap to his face which only makes him fuck you harder. "Aha, I think that's all you, baby doll, you were soaking my fingers earlier. Creamy little pussy ready to squirt on a strangers hands."

"FUCK YOU!"

"You want me dead?"

"Yes!"

He releases your sore hand, but the knife still lays next to it. "Take your shot, why dontcha?"

Thinking fast, you grab the handle again and with a scream, you plunge it into his neck.

To your surprise he just grins broadly. What the fuck is wrong with him.

Again, again, again, you stab the knife into different parts of his body as he stabs between your legs, fucking with more more intensity, with loud moans, closer and closer to his release. His gruff pants in your ear mirror your screams, listening to Logan moan and groan and whimper as he ravages your helpless body when you realize... he likes it. He likes it and the wounds are healing as fast as you can cut him. 

"Pretty bunny..." He chuckles lowly, his hand gripping your sides so hard it feels like a pinch, your fragile non-mutant body nothing but a plaything for him. With a loud growl, Logan cums inside you, filling you up as he continues to fuck him cum inside you, streams of hot cum flooding inside you. How was he still hard? Movements begin to slow, but your exhaustion begins to take it's toll on you, giving up harming him and simply taking it. "That's it... that's my good girl. Give in to me, little bunny. Let me have you... I can make it so good." Logan thrusts up into you, hitting something so devastating and deep no one has before, his rough hand sliding to your center to caress your bud.

"I don't want it to be good..." You cry weakly, even as pleasure builds down in you.

"Sure yuh do... c'mon, pretty girl you can give it to me... don't fight it, it's useless. You're mine now, my bunny... cum for me..." Logan's demeanor changes, suddenly indulgent and begging, his facial hair tickling your skin as he nuzzles your neck. "Wanna feel it... Wanna feel my sweet bunny coming on my cock... becoming mine..." You can't fight it anymore, the thick stretch on him, his skilled hands, the sleepiness clouding your rational... and he feels it too. "There we go... that's my girl, all mine, huh? You're mine now my pet... yeah... all mine..." It was painfully delicious, the way he made you feel, how his hands seemed to know you so intimately... 

Then that chloroformed clothe was on your mouth again, his cock still buried hard inside you. You didn't fight this time, letting the release of sleep take you. 

Slowly, Logan began to grind his hips into your body again, his hands claw extending again as they slipped under your shirt. No cuts this time, only a few nicks before he shredded your shirt now, leaving you in tattered clothes as he felt you up. Logan's mouth was at your ear. "Can't have you fighting me this time, little bunny. I'm gonna get to know this sweet body, I'm gonna lean everything it likes..." He cups your breasts, tweaking at a bare nipple. "Gonna take good care of you."

As you fall asleep, you can hear a car driving nearby.

THANK YOU!!!!!

I am so excited to try out a new character!!!!!!

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@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @reveric @wolverineswaifu @birbita @multiversed-daydreamer

love yuh!

[heartysworld]

Love, Lando, Milo // LN4

Lando Norris x Female Reader

Where Milo turns out to be more supportive than his dad

W. C: 2k

A/N: Milo has become a constant in my Lando fics, but since I don't see anyone complaining, I will keep on including him

MASTERLIST

The night was still. The kind of stillness that should be soothing, but instead, it felt heavy and uncomfortable. You shifted again, trying to find a position that didn’t make your back scream in protest. It was nearly impossible. Every time you thought you had it, your bladder demanded attention or a new wave of nausea rolled through you.

You tried to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to disturb Lando more than you already had. His breathing was steady and deep beside you, the sound normally a source of comfort. But tonight, it only highlighted how restless you were. You turned again, hoping to find that elusive comfortable spot, but it was no use.

Around 3 AM, you got up for what felt like the fifth time. You shuffled to the bathroom, your swollen feet aching with every step. After relieving yourself, you wandered into the kitchen, craving something to eat. Anything to soothe your grumbling stomach and kicking baby. You grabbed a banana and slowly made your way back to bed, hoping this time you wouldn’t disturb Lando.

But as you slipped back under the covers, Lando stirred and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“Again?” he mumbled, his voice tinged with irritation.

“Yes, again,” you snapped back, unable to contain your frustration anymore. For the past few days, Lando's been complaining about your midnight adventures around the house as his sleep schedule struggled as much as you did if not even more. At first, you didn't say anything, apologizing and closing your eyes in an attempt to fall asleep. However, as the days passed you felt like your were getting lonelier by the hour and evem more responsible for your fiancé's discontent with the situation in your own home, the sleepless night and constant tossing and turning.

“I’m pregnant, Lando. It’s not like I’m enjoying this.”

“Well, I’m not getting any sleep either,” he retorted. “I need to be in top shape during the season. This lack of sleep isn’t helping. No wonder I haven't been able to get anything done for the past week. It's useless.”

His words felt like a slap in the face. Tears welled up in your eyes before you could stop them. You felt overwhelmed, emotional, and incredibly vulnerable.

“You think I don’t know that?” You choked out. “You think I want to be up all night? I can’t help it! Im supposed to enjoy my pregnancy and relax as much as possible before our baby arrives! In reality, I'm feeling guilty and responsible for both mine and your inability to rest well! ”

Milo, sensing the tension and seeing your tears, started barking at Lando, tugging on the leg of his sweatpants as if to say, “You upset mom! Fix it!”

“Great, now I’ve upset the dog too,” Lando muttered, but his anger was already dissipating, replaced by guilt. He looked at you, seeing the tears streaming down your face, and his heart broke a little.

You didn’t wait for him to say anything else. You grabbed a blanket and headed to the spare bedroom, which was soon to be the baby's room. You moved as quickly as possible, your belly preventing you from moving with your usual pace. The room was quiet, and the rocking chair near one of the windows looked inviting. You opened the window next to you to let some fresh air inside the room. You settled into the fluffy cushions on the chair, pulling the blanket around you. Seconds later, Milo trotted into the room after you. He lifted himself onto his back legs, his front paws supporting his weight against the upholstery of the chair.

You lifted the little man onto your lap, smiling as he snuggled against your belly as if he knew you needed comfort.

''There hasn't been a day during which I've regretted your arrival into our lives, my tiny love." You said as you caressed the soft fur between his floppy ears. Milo's cold nose occasionally bumped against the palm of your hand as he sniffed around.

The tears flowed freely down the cold surface of your face, silent and hot in contrast. You stroked Milo's fur, the rhythmic motion helping to calm you down. The rocking chair creaked softly as you rocked back and forth. The movement seemed to help soothe your loud inner voice that kept producing negative thoughts one after another.

Some time passed, and you weren't sure how long. The door creaked open, and you saw Lando standing there, his expression mixed with regret and sadness.

“Baby, ” he whispered, stepping into the room. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just…I'm stressed. But that’s no excuse.”

You looked up at him, the tears still glistening in your eyes. “I’m trying, Lando. This isn’t easy for me either.”

He knelt beside the chair, taking your hand in his. “I know, love. I know. I’m an idiot. I should be more understanding. Please come back to bed. You need your sleep. We'll solve this in the morning, okay?”

You nodded, wiping your tears. “Just… don’t forget we’re in this together, okay?”

He leaned in and kissed you, soft and gentle, his lips lingering on yours. “I promise. Come back to bed? We can figure this out together.”

You stood up slowly, Milo jumping down to the floor. Lando wrapped an arm around your waist, guiding you back to your bedroom. The bed felt warm and inviting, and as you settled back in, Lando pulled you close as much as your protruding belly allowed him.

Milo jumped onto the bed, curling up at your feet where he usually spent his nights. Lando kissed your forehead, his hand resting on your growing belly.

“Goodnight, baby. I love you” he whispered.

“Goodnight,love you too.” You replied, feeling his warmth and love surrounding you as sleepiness began to take over your tired body.

The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. You woke up feeling a bit more rested, your body still aching, but your heart felt a little lighter.

Lando was already awake, propped up on one elbow, watching you with a soft smile. “Good morning,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Morning,” you replied, smiling back. Milo stretched out beside you, having moved up on the bed during the night , now wagging his tail lazily.

“How are you feeling?” Lando asked, concern etched in his eyes.

“Tired, but better,” you admitted. “Thank you for coming to get me last night.”

“I’ll always come for you.” He said, his voice full of sincerity. “We’ll get through this together.”

You spent the morning in bed, talking and laughing, enjoying the calm before the chaos of the day. Milo provided endless entertainment, his antics making you both laugh.

That evening, after a long day of preparing the nursery and spending quality time together, you were exhausted. You fell asleep as soon as your head hit the soft surface of the pillow. Lando stayed up a little longer as his mind kept wandering.

He looked over at you, your face serene in sleep, and his heart swelled with love. He gently placed his hand on your belly, feeling the slight movements of your growing baby.

“Hey, little one,” he whispered softly, not wanting to wake you. “I know I need to be better for your mom. She’s doing so much already, and I need to support her more. She needs her sleep, and I shouldn’t have been so harsh.”

Milo tilted his head, watching Lando with curious eyes before settling back down. Lando chuckled softly, patting Milo’s head.

“We’re a team,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “Your mom, Milo, and me. We’re going to be a great team, and we’ll always be here for you. I promise to be better.”

He leaned in and kissed your belly, then your forehead, before settling down beside you. Milo snuggled up at your feet, the three of you finally finding a moment of peace.

As you slept, you felt Lando’s hand still resting on your belly, his presence a comforting anchor. The journey ahead might be filled with challenges, but with Lando’s love and support, you felt ready to take on the journey of being a parent.

MASTERLIST

Feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[theonottsbxtch]

PREACHER'S DAUGHTER PT 2 | MV1

an: GUYS IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS AU! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this au im so ready, it'll be tagged as #preacheraumax on my page if you want to find all the posts. i'm already writing pt 3, feel free to talk to me abt this au!!

wc: 6.3k

part one

The late-afternoon sun spilled golden light over the trailer park, painting the rusted edges of Max’s trailer with a soft glow. From the open window of his trailer, the smell of dinner drifted out—pasta, he thought, though he wasn’t sure. She’d insisted on cooking again, and he hadn’t had it in him to argue. He leaned against his car outside for a minute, absently wiping his hands with an oil-stained rag, trying—and failing—to ignore the way his T-shirt hung loose on her frame when she flitted through the tiny kitchen through the small window.

A week of this. A week of her brushing past him, all sweet smiles and quiet thank-yous, like she didn’t notice the way his pulse spiked every time she tucked her hair behind her ear or hummed while folding his clothes. He’d been respectful, giving her space, knowing she needed time to heal, but damn if she didn’t make it difficult.

The screen door creaked open, and there she was, standing on the step with a plate in her hands and a soft grin. “Dinner’s ready.”

He bit back a groan, tossed the rag onto the bike seat, and followed her inside.

They ate quietly, the scrape of forks on mismatched plates filling the small space. She’d been unusually quiet all day, and when she finally set her fork down, her eyes were a little too bright, her voice a little too soft.

“I talked to my aunt,” she said.

Max froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. He set it down carefully, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah?”

“She’s expecting me next week. She’s got a room for me, and she says I can stay as long as I need to.”

He nodded, keeping his face neutral, even though something sharp twisted in his chest. “That’s good. Safe place for you. Close to college.”

Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of the table. “You’ll take me, won’t you?”

“Of course.” His voice came out rougher than he meant it to, and her eyes flicked up, searching his face.

The week passed too quickly. Every time he came home from work to see her curled up on his couch or folding laundry to some old song on the radio, he told himself not to get used to it. But it was impossible not to, and when the day came, he couldn’t shake the weight in his chest as they loaded the last of her bags into the back of his truck.

The drive to her aunt’s house was quiet. She played with the hem of her dress, and he kept his hands tight on the wheel, like if he gripped hard enough, he could keep her there.

When they pulled up to the modest house on the edge of town, she didn’t move right away. He cut the engine, the silence stretching thin between them.

“I’ll come back on weekends,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

“Promise?”

Her head turned, and for the first time all day, she smiled—a small, fragile thing that made his chest ache. “Promise.”

He stepped out, helping her with her bags, and when they reached the porch, he couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around her waist. She stiffened for a moment, then melted into him, her head resting against his chest.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy, you know,” he murmured into her hair.

She pulled back just enough to press a kiss to his cheek, her lips warm against his stubble. His heart stopped, then kicked back up at double speed.

“Don’t forget me, Max,” she said softly.

“Not a chance.”

The door opened behind her, and a woman—her aunt, he assumed—stepped out, eyeing him curiously.

“And who’s this?”

She glanced back at Max, her eyes lingering on him like she didn’t want to let go. Then she smiled, a little sadly.

“Just a good friend.”

The words stung, but he smiled anyway, stepping back and shoving his hands in his pockets. “Take care of her,” he said, his voice low but firm.

Her aunt nodded, ushering her inside. Max stayed on the porch for a moment, watching the door close behind her, the ache in his chest settling into something heavier.

When the weekend came along, Max was in the middle of patching up an old carburetor on a kitchen counter when he heard the knock at the door. He wiped his hands on his jeans and squinted at the clock on the wall. It was late—closer to eight than six—but the knock came again, firm and impatient.

Grumbling under his breath, he crossed the room, swung the door open, and froze.

She was standing there on his porch, a duffle bag slung over her shoulder, her hair pulled back in that effortless way that always drove him crazy. She smiled up at him, all innocent charm and a hint of mischief, like she hadn’t just made his heart stop.

“Hey,” she said, stepping past him and into the trailer without waiting for an invitation.

“Hey?” he echoed, spinning to follow her. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to call.”

She dropped the bag onto his couch, her smile not faltering in the slightest. “It’s the weekend, isn’t it? I promised I’d come back.”

“Yeah, but—” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to sound stern. “You’re not supposed to just show up. I could’ve come and picked you up, you know.”

She waved him off, heading toward the kitchen. “I’m not helpless, Max. I caught a bus. Besides, I liked the idea of surprising you.”

Max sighed, leaning against the counter as she poked around his cabinets, clearly unimpressed. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Hmm.” She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For not fainting when I walked in here.” She gestured to the cluttered counters and the pile of laundry shoved into the corner. “Honestly, the state of this place would make half the church faint.”

Max smirked, crossing his arms. “Well, my cleaning fairy hasn’t been around this week.”

She turned back to him, arching an eyebrow. “Your cleaning fairy?”

“Yeah, little thing. Shows up unannounced, makes herself at home, organises my life for free.” He shrugged, his voice teasing. “She’s gotten kinda bossy, though.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t fight the grin spreading across her face. “Well, your cleaning fairy is back.”

“Don’t.” His voice softened, and she looked up at him in surprise. “Don’t clean, okay? You don’t have to do all that. You’re not here to look after me.”

“I like it.”

Her words were simple, but they hit him harder than they should have. She liked being here, liked taking care of him, even if he didn’t deserve it.

Before he could think of how to respond, she stepped closer, her hand brushing his arm. Then, leaning up on her toes, she kissed his cheek, quick and light.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his throat tight. “Anytime.”

Her fingers lingered on his arm for a moment before she turned away, diving into the mess with a determination that made him smile despite himself.

He leaned against the wall, watching her, his heart feeling lighter for the first time in a week. She was impossible, infuriating, and everything he couldn’t stop thinking about.

“I was supposed to go out tonight,” he finally said.

She glanced back at him, her hands covered in soap. “Oh?”

“Yeah, Danny called earlier. Said he wanted to hit the bar. I told him I might swing by.” He paused, watching her reaction.

She didn’t seem fazed, just smiled. “You should go. It’s fine.”

He frowned. “I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

She rinsed a plate, setting it on the drying rack with a satisfying clink. “Max, I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself, you know.”

“That’s not the point.”

Her gaze softened as she turned to face him, drying her hands on a dish towel. “I know you want to stay. But you shouldn’t put your whole life on hold just because I’m here.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but she stepped closer, her expression gentle but firm. “Go out. Have fun. I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, he debated pushing back. The idea of leaving her here, even for a few hours, felt wrong. But the quiet certainty in her voice eased something in his chest.

“Okay,” he relented. “But only if you promise to text me if you need anything.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a playful smile on her lips. “Yes, daddy.”

He shot her a mock glare as he grabbed his jacket and keys. At the door, he turned back to her, his hand lingering on the frame. “Don’t clean anything, all right? Just relax.”

“Sure,” she said, a little too quickly.

He narrowed his eyes at her, but she waved him off with a laugh, and he finally stepped out into the night.

When Max got to the bar, it was loud and crowded, the kind of place Max usually thrived in, but tonight felt different. Danny was mid-sentence about something—or someone—when Max’s attention drifted again.

He found himself staring at his beer, her voice echoing in his head. I like it here.

“Max, you listening?” Danny nudged him with an elbow.

“Yeah, yeah,” Max muttered, though he wasn’t. His mind was back at the trailer, wondering if she’d actually taken a break or if he’d come home to find everything spotless.

“Man, you’ve been spaced out all night. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Max lied, draining the last of his beer. “I gotta head out.”

Danny raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “Suit yourself.”

When Max got back to the trailer, the place didn’t feel like his.

The counters were wiped clean, the laundry folded and stacked neatly, and even the perpetually sticky spot on the floor by the fridge was gone. He sighed, shaking his head as he locked the door behind him.

“Stubborn,” he muttered, though a smile tugged at his lips.

His gaze landed on the couch, and there she was, curled up under one of his old blankets, her chest rising and falling in soft, even breaths.

“Of course,” he whispered, his voice soft as he crouched beside her.

Carefully, he slid his arms under her, lifting her with ease. She stirred, her head resting against his shoulder as he carried her to the bed.

“Max?” she murmured sleepily.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, his voice low.

“I wanted to wait up,” she whispered, her words slurring slightly.

“I know.” He laid her down gently, pulling the blanket over her.

He moved to the dresser, rummaging for a clean shirt to sleep in when her voice, still soft but more awake, stopped him.

“You usually just sleep in boxers.”

He turned, eyebrows raised. “Noticed that, huh?”

She smiled, her eyes half-lidded. “I don’t mind if you do.”

For a second, he didn’t move, her words hanging between them like an unspoken promise. Then he chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

Her smile widened, but she was already drifting back to sleep.

Max sighed, tugging his shirt off and tossing it onto the chair. He slid under the blanket beside her, careful not to disturb her. As her breathing evened out again, he let himself relax, the weight of the night fading as he listened to the quiet.

She was here. And for now, that was enough.

The warmth was the first thing Max noticed as he stirred awake. His trailer was always cold in the mornings, the thin walls doing little to keep the night chill at bay, but now there was a soft, comforting heat pressed against his side. He cracked one eye open and immediately froze.

She was curled into him, her head resting on his chest, one arm draped across his torso like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her breath was slow and steady, her face relaxed in sleep, and her fingers clutched lightly at the fabric of his shirt.

Max’s heart thudded hard against his ribs, a deep ache settling in his chest. She fit so perfectly against him, like she’d always belonged there. He lay still, not wanting to wake her, though he couldn’t stop his hand from coming to rest lightly on her back.

The quiet moment stretched, his mind racing with thoughts he wasn’t ready to face, until the smell hit him. Warm, buttery, sweet—pancakes? His brow furrowed as he sniffed the air. Was he imagining things?

He shifted slightly, and her eyes fluttered open. She blinked up at him, her expression soft and drowsy, and he swallowed hard.

“Morning,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

“Morning,” he replied, his voice low. “You smell that?”

She smiled, untangling herself from him and sitting up with a yawn. “Yeah. Pancakes.”

He frowned, sitting up as well. “I didn’t even know I had stuff to make pancakes.”

She turned to him, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “You didn’t. I snuck out earlier and grabbed a few things.”

He blinked. “You went shopping? Without waking me?”

“You looked peaceful,” she said with a shrug, climbing out of bed, not bothering to put the skirt she must have left with earlier back on. 

He was sure that his cause of death was going to be her walking around his trailer in one of his shirts and her stupid cotton panties.

He followed her to the kitchen, still trying to wrap his head around the idea of her slipping out and coming back unnoticed. Sure enough, there was a stack of golden pancakes on the counter, a jar of syrup beside it, and two mismatched plates waiting to be served.

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, though there was no heat in his words.

“Thank you,” she replied with a grin, flipping the last pancake onto the stack before turning to him.

“What’s the occasion?” he asked, gesturing to the pancakes.

“It’s Sunday,” she said simply, as if that explained everything.

“Yeah, and?”

Her smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of something—nervousness, maybe—crossing her face. “It’s church day.”

The realisation hit him like a freight train. Of course. It was her first Sunday since she’d left home. A pang of guilt tugged at him as he imagined what this day must mean to her.

“Right,” he said softly. “Big day.”

She nodded, fiddling with the edge of his shirt.

“Do you want me to come with you?” The words were out before he could stop them.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and he immediately regretted it. “I mean, I know I’m not exactly the church-going type, but—”

She cut him off with a laugh, her expression softening. “Max, you don’t even own a church-appropriate outfit.”

He scratched the back of his neck, glancing toward his wardrobe. She wasn’t wrong. His idea of formal wear was a clean pair of jeans and a button-up he hadn’t worn in years.

“You sure you don’t want me to tag along?” he asked, feeling strangely out of his depth.

She shook her head, her voice gentle. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine. You can wait outside for me this week if you want.”

“Deal,” he said, relief and a hint of disappointment mingling in his chest.

She smiled again, stepping closer and resting a hand on his arm. “Thank you for offering, though. It means a lot.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, clearing his throat and looking away. “Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on you.”

She laughed, her fingers lingering on his arm for a moment before she turned back to the pancakes.

Max leaned against the counter, watching her as she plated their breakfast. She moved with a quiet confidence, her presence filling the small space in a way that felt both comforting and terrifying.

As they sat down to eat, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this Sunday—this moment—was going to stay with him long after she walked out the door.

Max didn’t know what he had with her, but he loved it. He loved every weekend she spent with him, loved the way her presence brightened his space. He loved the little things she did—the soft hum of her voice filling his trailer, the way she folded his shirts with the corners lined up perfectly, and the way she always looked at him like he was more than the guy with grease-stained hands and a rough past.

He didn’t deserve her, and he knew it. But damn if he wasn’t going to soak up every moment she gave him.

It was midweek when she surprised him. The steady rhythm of clanking tools and revving engines filled the garage as Max worked on a beat-up old Ford, grease smudged across his forearms. The day had been uneventful so far, the usual grind of repairs keeping his hands busy and his thoughts on autopilot.

Then she walked in.

He didn’t see her at first, his head buried under the hood, but the sound of her soft “Hi, Max,” was enough to make him straighten immediately, his heart giving an uncharacteristic jump.

She stood near the door, a paper bag in hand, wearing one of those sundresses that always made him weak. Her hair caught the sunlight streaming through the open garage door, and she looked so out of place among the grease and oil stains that it made him grin.

“Hey, angel,” he said, wiping his hands on a rag as he walked over to her. Without thinking, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. The scent of her shampoo—something floral and sweet—hit him, and he lingered for just a second longer than he should have.

“What’s this?” he asked, nodding toward the bag.

“Lunch,” she said simply, holding it out to him.

His brow furrowed as he took it, glancing inside. A neatly packed sandwich, an apple, and a bottle of water stared back at him. “I was fine for lunch,” he said, a little sheepishly. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Her lips curved into a knowing smile, and she crossed her arms. “A hot dog and a beer is not healthy for you, Max.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “What, you been spying on me now?”

“I’ve been paying attention,” she countered, stepping closer and poking playfully at his stomach. “You keep eating like that, and you’ll lose your figure.”

“Oh, is that what this is about?” he teased, setting the bag on a nearby workbench. He leaned down slightly, lowering his voice to a flirtatious drawl. “You trying to cop a look at my abs, angel?”

Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted it just enough to reveal his toned stomach, a smirk playing on his lips.

Her face turned bright red, and she quickly looked away, stammering, “You’re impossible.”

“Hey, you started it,” he said with a laugh, dropping his shirt back into place. He couldn’t help but admire the way her blush crept down her neck. She was too easy to fluster, and he loved every second of it.

“I have to catch the bus back soon,” she said after a moment, still avoiding his gaze as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

The mention of her leaving tugged at something in his chest, but he nodded. “All right. Thanks for the lunch, though. Really.”

Her smile returned, softer this time. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Always.”

After she left, Max stood by the workbench for a moment, staring at the lunch bag like it was some kind of relic.

“Who was that?” a gruff voice broke his reverie.

Max turned to see his boss, Tommy, leaning against the frame of the garage’s office door, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Just a friend,” Max said, though the words tasted wrong. She was more than that, even if he couldn’t quite put a label on it.

Tommy snorted. “Yeah, sure. A friend who packs you lunch and makes you look like a lovesick puppy every time she’s around.”

“Shut up,” Max muttered, grabbing a wrench and returning to the Ford.

Tommy laughed, taking a long drag from his cigarette before speaking again. “You’ve got balls, kid. Being with the preacher’s daughter? That’s a whole mess I wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole.”

Max stiffened, but he didn’t respond.

Tommy continued, his tone softening. “But I gotta say... I haven’t seen you this happy since the day you bought that trailer. She’s good for you.”

Max glanced over his shoulder, his grip tightening on the wrench. “Yeah. She is.”

Tommy nodded, stubbing out his cigarette. “Don’t screw it up, kid.”

Max didn’t answer, but as he went under the Ford, he couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at his lips. Whatever this thing was with her, he wasn’t letting it go.

No less than a few days later she was stepping out of her last lecture of the day, her bag slung over her shoulder and her friend Sarah chattering animatedly about some party happening over the weekend. The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the campus, and the warm breeze carried the faint scent of freshly cut grass.

But then she saw it.

Parked just beyond the gates was a familiar motorbike, its polished chrome glinting in the sunlight. Leaning against it, arms crossed and looking every bit the troublemaker he was, stood Max.

Her breath hitched, a smile spreading across her face before she could stop it. He didn’t belong here—his grease-streaked jeans and leather jacket a stark contrast to the sea of students with their backpacks and books—but somehow, he looked perfect.

“Is that... your boyfriend?” Sarah asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and disbelief.

She hesitated for a split second, then shook her head. “Just a friend.” But her cheeks betrayed her, flushing pink as she adjusted her bag and headed toward him.

As she approached, Max straightened, his expression softening in a way he reserved only for her. “Milady,” he said with a playful smirk, holding out the spare helmet like a knight presenting a prize.

She laughed, her smile widening as she took the helmet from him. “You’re ridiculous,” she teased, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

He didn’t bother hiding the grin that spread across his face as she slid the helmet on. Swinging her leg over the back of the bike, she settled behind him, her arms wrapping securely around his waist.

“Hold on tight, angel,” he said, revving the engine.

The ride to her aunt’s was a familiar one now. She’d spent so many weekends at his trailer that the route was second nature, but it never lost its charm. The wind whipped past her, carrying away the stress of the day, and all she could think about was the solid warmth of Max in front of her and the way her heart felt light every time she was with him.

When they pulled up outside her aunt’s house, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting the world in hues of orange and pink. She slid off the bike, pulling the helmet off and shaking out her hair.

“Drive home safe,” she said softly, her eyes lingering on him.

“For you, always, angel,” he replied, his voice low but steady.

Her lips curved into a small, grateful smile as she turned and headed up the walkway. She glanced back once, just in time to see him watching her, the faintest hint of a smile on his face before he started the engine and roared away into the fading light.

Max never would have referred to his trailer as a home. For years, it had been little more than a roof over his head—a place to sleep and keep his stuff, nothing more. It wasn’t like the house he’d known she’d grown up in, with its creaking floors and warm kitchen smells, or even the crummy apartment he’d shared with Danny in his early twenties.

But now...

Now there were little reminders of her everywhere. A book she’d left on the coffee table, its pages dog-eared in the way she knew drove him crazy. A neatly folded throw blanket she’d brought over one chilly night. The small vase on the windowsill, holding wildflowers she’d picked on a whim.

She hadn’t moved in—not really. But every item she left behind, every small touch of hers that lingered, made the space feel warmer. More alive.

More like home.

Max sat on the couch, his gaze drifting over the room. His place was still rough around the edges—there was no hiding the peeling wallpaper or the worn linoleum floors—but with her here, even in these small ways, it felt different.

He picked up the book she’d left, turning it over in his hands. The corners were bent, and a faint scent of her perfume clung to the pages. He shook his head with a smile, setting it back down.

Yeah, he thought, leaning back against the cushions. She made it feel like home.

<3 <3 <3

Max’s life continued with her like this for another eleven months. Each day, it felt like he was living in a dream he never wanted to wake up from. They fell into a rhythm—a routine that felt as comforting as it was impossible to believe.

She was no longer just the preacher’s daughter he had met outside a Church. She was part of his life, his home. More than half the time, she stayed at his place now, spending her nights curled up on his couch, reading or laughing at some ridiculous things he'd say, more often than not in the same oversized t-shirt she’d first worn when she moved in. Her presence filled every corner of his small, humble space, making it feel less like a place where he merely existed and more like somewhere he belonged.

He had never pushed her for anything—never tried to rush her into kissing him, never demanded more than what she was willing to give. There were moments where he could feel the pull between them, when their eyes lingered a little longer or their hands brushed in ways that made his heart race, but he was patient. She had her own pace, and for once, he didn’t want to ruin it by moving too fast. She had her own life to rebuild, and he was content to be a steady presence in it.

She still went to church every Sunday, keeping that part of her life separate, even though she never spoke to her father anymore. Church was the one thing she still clung to, the only part of her old life that hadn’t unravelled completely. Max didn’t understand it—he couldn’t—but he never asked her to give it up. If it brought her peace, if it helped her hold on to a piece of herself, then he respected it. He just wished she would let him share in it, but he wasn’t going to force it.

And then, the day finally came.

Max had been saving for months, every extra penny he made going toward the dream he’d never dared to voice out loud—the dream of getting them out of the cramped, creaky trailer and into something better. A place where she didn’t have to worry about the walls being thin or the smell of grease lingering in the air. Something more... theirs.

He had found it. A small but cosy apartment uptown, with high ceilings and a view of the city skyline. It was perfect for them—quiet, private, and just far enough from everything they both needed to escape from. He’d signed the lease that morning, a rush of pride and anticipation filling his chest as he pictured her reaction.

When she walked through the door that evening, he couldn’t hold it in anymore. His heart was racing, his palms sweaty as he met her at the door.

“I got us a place,” he said, his voice thick with excitement.

She blinked, clearly caught off guard by the suddenness of his words, but the moment she saw the joy in his eyes, the realisation hit her. She stepped forward, her face lighting up with the kind of smile that made everything else fade into the background.

“Max...” she whispered, and without thinking, without hesitating, she threw her arms around him, pulling him close.

Her lips found his in an instant.

It wasn’t a soft kiss, not one of those cautious first kisses that came with hesitations or uncertainty. It was full of the weight of everything that had built up between them—the months of waiting, the slow burn of tension that had been simmering beneath the surface. Their kiss was deep, heated, urgent, as if they both had been holding their breath and were finally allowed to exhale.

Max’s hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, feeling the heat of her body against his. He deepened the kiss, his lips claiming hers as if he had waited an eternity for this moment. He felt her fingers thread through his hair, tugging him closer, her body pressing into his with a desperation that matched his own.

It was the kind of kiss that shook him to the core, that made everything else in the world fade into the background—her soft breath against his lips, the quiet hum of the city outside, the rush of blood in his ears. All that mattered was her.

Her arms slid up around his neck, her body melting against his, and for the first time in a year, Max felt like he had finally found the place where he belonged.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads resting together, their breaths ragged, she looked at him with something that could only be described as wonder. Her eyes were wide, her lips swollen from their kiss, and there was a softness in her gaze that made his heart stutter in his chest.

“I’ve been waiting for that,” she breathed, her voice thick with emotion.

Max smiled, his thumb brushing gently across her cheek. “Yeah, me too.”

There was a moment of silence, the kind that spoke volumes in the space between them. Her hands lingered on his chest, and he could feel the rapid beat of her heart against his. He had never known a kiss could feel so much like coming home.

He cleared his throat, his voice hoarse. “We... we really did it, huh?”

She nodded, her smile widening. “We did.”

Max had never been one for big, sweeping gestures. But with her, it was different. Everything about her made him want to be more than the guy who had nothing. He wanted to be the man who made her feel safe, cherished, loved. He wanted to give her everything—everything she deserved.

He kissed her again, slower this time, his lips brushing over hers as if savouring the sweetness of the moment. When they finally pulled apart, he smiled down at her, his hand gently cupping her face.

“I’m so damn lucky to have you,” he said softly.

She grinned, her eyes sparkling with something he couldn’t quite place, but it was the kind of look that made his heart stutter in his chest. “No, Max,” she whispered, her voice full of warmth. “I’m the lucky one.”

And for the first time, in a long time, Max allowed himself to believe it. He wasn’t just living with her. He wasn’t just sharing space with her.

He was building a life with her. A life that, even in its quiet moments, felt like everything.

And for the first time, he realised what home truly was.

The kiss lingered in the air between them, warm and slow, as if time had stretched to accommodate the overwhelming intensity of the moment. Max’s hands rested gently on her waist, feeling the soft press of her body against his, and the faint sound of their shared breath was the only noise in the room. They were tangled together—hearts racing, bodies melting into each other—as though nothing else mattered.

For the first time in a year, Max felt completely alive. Completely whole.

She pulled away slightly, breathless, her cheeks flushed and eyes wide, still processing the heat of the kiss, the weight of what it meant. Her lips parted, but before she could speak, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers one last time, a soft whisper against her skin.

“Marry me.”

The words were so quiet, so soft, that for a second, she thought she had imagined them. She blinked, drawing back slightly to look at him, her chest tightening with uncertainty. “What?”

Max smiled at her confusion, a hint of something deeper in his eyes. His hands gently cupped her face, his thumb running along her jawline as if trying to memorise every detail of her. He leaned in, his lips hovering just above hers as he whispered again, more seriously this time, “Marry me, angel.”

She froze for a heartbeat, thinking it was some sort of joke, some playful teasing. The idea of Max, the guy who’d never believed in love or commitment, asking her something like that was almost impossible to believe.

But the sincerity in his eyes, the vulnerability she had never seen from him before, made her heart skip a beat. There was no hint of jest, no trace of humour. He meant it.

Max saw the hesitation in her eyes and gently kissed her lips again, his voice rough and low as he pulled back just enough to speak.

“I never thought I’d make it past twenty-one,” he began, his gaze intense, almost haunted, as if these words were ones he had carried inside him for far too long. “I’ve been lost for so long. I didn’t think I’d ever have a reason to keep going, to fight for anything.”

She could hear the rawness in his voice, the weight of everything he had lived through—the loneliness, the struggles, the doubts. His eyes searched hers, looking for understanding, for a connection that only she could give.

“But you, angel...” His voice softened, but the words still hit her like a wave, sweeping away any doubts. “You’ve given me hope. You’ve given me a reason to live. A reason to fight for something better.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable—it was peaceful, full of something unspoken, something they both felt but had never truly expressed until now.

She could feel her heart racing, her emotions swelling inside her chest, a warmth spreading through her like wildfire. Max—rough-around-the-edges Max, the guy who had been her rock for so long—was here, telling her that she had been the reason he had found the strength to keep going.

With her, he had found his reason.

“I...” Her voice faltered, thick with emotion, and she cupped his face in her hands, leaning in closer. “Yes, Max. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before he kissed her again, this time softer, more tender, as though sealing a promise. She melted into it, her fingers threading through his hair, holding on to him as if this moment was the only one that mattered.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathless, the weight of their promise hanging in the air, Max’s hands moved slowly down her body. He smiled as he reached for her purity ring, the symbol of the life she had left behind. With the gentleness of someone who understood the significance of the gesture, he took the ring off her finger.

“I’ve got something for you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Max took one of his necklaces, a simple silver chain that had always felt like a part of him, and threaded her ring onto it. He placed it around his neck, letting the cool metal of the ring rest against her skin. “This is you now,” he said quietly, his eyes not leaving hers. “And I’m the only one who gets to wear it.”

Her fingers gently touched the ring, feeling the warmth of her promise against him.

Then, Max reached down to his own hand, taking off a ring—one he never took off, the one that had been his symbol of defiance for years. He hadn’t given it to anyone else, and he certainly hadn’t planned on giving it to anyone. But now, with her, it felt like the only thing that made sense.

With a steady hand, he reached for the cross necklace she always wore, taking it between his fingers and slipping the ring onto it. The cool metal of his ring clicked against the chain, its weight heavier than it had ever felt before.

“This one’s for you,” he said softly, brushing her hair behind her ear as he tucked the cross back against her skin. “Because we’re in this together now. No going back.”

She stared at the ring hanging from her necklace, her heart swelling with a mix of emotions—love, disbelief, and gratitude. She had never imagined a life like this. But now, with him, she couldn’t imagine it any other way.

“I’m ready, Max,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m ready to start this new part of my life. With you.”

Max pulled her into his arms, holding her close as if she was the most precious thing in the world, and whispered against her hair, “I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you.”

And in that moment, with her purity ring around his neck and his own ring on her cross necklace, it was clear to both of them that this was only the beginning.

The beginning of forever.

taglist: @sinofwriting @le-le-lea @vanicogh @iamred-iamyellow @rayaskoalaland @spookyanamurdock @iimplicitt

[luveline]

that spencer x bombshell one you just posted has me giggling and kicking my feet I think I’m in love with YOU 🫵

Now I’m thinking of spencer x bombshell where the team starts to not view reid as unwillingly tortured by her flirting. Like maybe Morgan makes a comment to reid about something he does and is like “don’t torture the poor girl” and he’s like oh shit I’M the one torturing too now?

im in love with YOU !! for you, ty for requesting ♡ fem

“Difficult,” you say, resting your head on the table. 

“I know.” Spencer wiggles his pen back and forth between two fingers, thinking hard. This case is proving to be indecipherable. None of the details want to add up, and no clear profile geographical or otherwise appears. 

“Useless.” 

“Who, me or you?” 

“Us.” You sigh morosely. “Mostly me.” 

You're not being serious. Spencer huffs a soft laugh and continues to turn the details over in his head. You open your notebook and scratch down a couple of sentences with a pen, a visual thinker. Your mind map turns to a second iteration and then a third. You can't connect the dots because they're too far apart from each other; Spencer can't do it either. Not alone. 

He scoots his chair as close to yours as possible, your knees touching, his elbow in your side. “Can I look?” he asks. 

“Of course you can. Sorry about my handwriting.” 

He shakes his head. Your handwriting is perhaps the only thing about you he wouldn't say was one hundred percent perfect. You can't control it like other things. It is perfect, in a way, because it's yours, but you've been writing quickly and he struggles to make out the occasional letter. 

He leans in toward the page. “What's this word?” he asks. 

You lean in to see it. “Coruscated.” 

“The swimming pool?” he asks, lifting his face to yours. You're closer now, and beautiful like this. He can see the powder under your eyes, the lines in your irises, the slight fading of your lipstick at the corners of your mouth. There's an eyelash on your cheek. He lifts a hand to wipe it away. “What's so important about that?” 

“It reminded me of something…” You pause as he touches your face. “Something…” Your voice lilts up in question, half-shudder. 

“Eyelash,” he explains, blowing it off of his finger. 

“Right,” you say, eyes oddly wide and soft at once, your eyebrows lifted at the starts. 

“You okay?” 

“Is she okay? Reid, you're torturing the poor girl. Give her some air,” Morgan says with a chuckle. 

Spencer leans backwards in surprise, no idea what Morgan could possibly mean. Your eyes relax as you regain some personal space, your hands coming together loosely in your lap. You laugh weakly. 

Spencer looks you up and down. He's torturing you? That doesn't make sense. For as long as you've known one another, the team has joked that your flirty ways and feminine wiles are too much for Spencer to handle. You once gave him an apology he didn't want, worried you actually were hurting him by being your playful self, and he'd set that straight immediately. You don't torture him. It's a lot of feelings to be doted on so much by you, and painful isn't one of them. Overwhelming, sometimes, and exciting, sure. 

He never realised he had the power to overwhelm you. Not until that moment. You offer a funny smile far from your usual smirk and try to steamroll Morgan's claim. “Guess I should've made a wish.” 

“What would you wish for?” Spencer asks quietly. 

You still. Morgan shakes his head in disapproval, but he laughs again and stands up. “I think they'd call that a taste of your own medicine, sweetheart,” he says to you. 

You meet Spencer's eye. “I think they would,” you say bashfully. 

For three blissful seconds, Spencer enjoys the reality of having made you flustered. You, gorgeous, confident you, left flushed and a little daunted by his casual actions and simple (maybe slightly flirtatious) questioning. But then he remembers how much he likes you and pushes it away. 

“Sorry,” he says, plastering a smile over uncertain lips, “I didn't mean to do that.” 

“No, it's okay.” 

He turns to your notes, but gives you a look from the side. “I hope you wished for someone to solve the case. We're never getting anywhere like this.” 

“Are you saying you can't?” You rest your chin in your hand. “And here I thought you were more than a pretty face.” 

You have a quick recovery rate, evidently. 

[kunazz]

WEEK ONE: RYOMEN SUKUNA — [public blowjob]

tags: blowjobs, public setting, spit, choking, slight praise, degradation, hair pulling, lowercase is on purpose.

synopsis: sukuna decides he’s had enough of waiting and chooses to take what’s his, even if that meant he did it in the back of the cinema.

a/n: kicking off kinktober with a good start!! Let’s hope I make it through the rest of the weeks :] I HAVENT PROOF READ YET IM SO TIRED. Promise I’ll do it soon..

sukuna breathed steadily through his nose, his eyes shutting tightly as he sunk further down onto your cock, the glow of the cinema screen providing a dim light and helping him see what he was doing. it wasn’t busy, only a few people littering the chairs in the front and middle rows, and half probably weren’t even paying attention to the movie — whatever it was you had definitely forgotten by now, especially with the way sukuna was gagging around you, tongue sticking out to lick the base as he took your cock down his throat to the best of his ability.

“holy shit, kuna..you’re doing so good..” you groan softly, trying to keep your voice down because you were not about to get caught by a random old person who was genuinely enjoying this stupid hero movie.

was it even a hero movie?

at this point you were beginning to think there wasn’t an actual plot to whatever was being shown on the screen, and maybe, having a blow job in the back of the cinema would make this whole trip worth it — and could possibly salvage the last piece of excitement you and sukuna had.

your cock was thick, and heavy, sliding across sukuna’s tongue and trying to fit down his throat, stretching him around your cock until he was sputtering and jerking backwards, trying not to cough his lungs out and draw attention to the two of you. he sighed through his nose, eyebrows furrowed in determination as he trying to swallow all the saliva he could before your hand was pushing him back down, a loud wet gagging sound meeting your ears that was thankfully drowned out by the movies loud and dramatic sound effects, but you were grateful to hear it — sukuna’s struggle was always a pleasure, especially when he was usually so cocky.

“It’s like you’re made for this now..I trained you well” you mumble, hips jerking upwards just to make sukuna gag around you a little more, enjoying the way his body contorts before he pulls back just a little. you can remember when you and sukuna first attempted this, he wasn’t getting half of your cock in his mouth like he was now, his throat contracted way too much, and you can remember vividly the loud burping sound that came from him — almost puking all over you, and that’s when you decided to call it quits. sukuna had a bad habit of trying to do things all in one go, especially things he wasn’t good at, and that ended up with him either failing or trying and trying until he got it right. you’ve told him that it’s ok to get things wrong, but his response is always the same “i never get shit wrong, I can do it”.

but, his efforts to suck your cock did pay off, because now he was able to take you to the hilt, of course he gagged a lot, and his reflex was something that would take more time to work on, but the fact he can fit all of your cock in his mouth and down his throat was an achievement in itself — and you always made sure to praise him for it.

“good slut..you’re doing so well f’me..” you mutter, a soft gasp leaving you when sukuna’s hand comes up to play with your balls, tongue lapping at the base of your cock as the rest fits perfectly down his throat — he’s drooling so much now, and when he comes up for some breath, a large glob of saliva dribbles down your cock, soaking at the cushony seats you sat on; the cleaner was going to have a field day after this.

you sigh softly, petting sukuna’s head as your cock twitches when the cool air hits it, you’re close, so close you could almost cum just from looking at how wrecked sukuna was, but you had more self control than that, and you weren’t about to blow your load unless your cock was so far down sukuna’s throat he could almost feel you in his belly. “g’na make me cum baby?” you question, head cocking to the side as a playful smirk stretches onto your lips — the movie plays in the background, but it’s drowned out to the both of you when the slick sounds of sukuna jerking you off fill both your ears.

“wanna cum on my face or-”

“in your mouth” you’re quick to shut sukuna off, not wanting waste anymore time as the minutes of the movie we’re depleating, and and you’d rather have your pants on when the credits roll and the lights slowly turn back on. you can hear sukuna make a snide remark, commenting something about your desperation, but he takes your cock back into his mouth anyways. this time, it’s clear he’s determined, the way his cheeks hollow when he sucks back up is a distinct indicator of that, and your hips accidentally buck up into his mouth every time he does so.

“such a good whore f’me..gonna make me cum baby” you groan, mouth hanging open as you tug at sukuna’s hair, feeling the soft strands wrap around your fingers before you’re shoving his head back down, liking the way his body contorts and stiffens at the sudden action. “take it like a good boy yeah? use that mouth for what’s it’s made to do” your words are now turning sukuna’s ears red, and you take pride in embarrassing someone as egotistical and cold as him — it’s an achievement.

you use sukuna’s head as a fleshlight, pushing his head up and down your cock, enjoying the way his spit cascades down your shaft, making everything even more wet and messy. you can feel yourself getting closer, and your cock was throbbing, begging for release as you push sukuna’s head all the way down. “cum- fuck i’m cumming baby..” you groan, hips pushing up to make sure your cock was all the way down sukuna’s throat as you came, not wanting to waste a single drop of it.

it was an earth shattering orgasm, one of the best ones you’ve had in a while, and you’re not sure if it’s to do with the fact that sukuna’s finally gotten better or blow jobs, or if it’s to do with the fact you’re in public and you could have been caught at any moment — it’s probably the latter. but even so, you don’t care, not when sukuna’s cleaning off your cock, swallowing your cum with a grimace.

“tastes fuckin’ nasty, the fuck do you eat?” sukuna grumbles, he had half the mind to spit it out, but a part of him didn’t mind swallowing your cum down, it wasn’t as unpleasant as he made it out to be, this was just him trying to scrape at the last bit of dignity he had.

“most of the time it’s pizza or your ass” you reply, sarcasm lacing your tone as you pull your jeans back up — great, just in time for the credits of the movie, at least your timing was right. sukuna didn’t find any humour in your witty response and slapped your shoulder, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at you.

“then no more pizza” he says, standing up to leave as everyone else did too.

“what about your ass?” you inquired, standing up with him as you raised an eyebrow.

“you know you can’t live without that.”

[rafeandonlyrafe]

over the clouds

words: 1k

warnings: pregnancy, flying on a plane, established relationship, protective!rafe, some anxiety from rafe about reader being pregnant, illusions of sex but nothing happens

“rafe.” you say gently, placing your hand on his chest. “im only 20 weeks, don't you think this is a bit of an overreaction? the flight is only three hours.” 

“probably.” rafe smiles, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips, pressing kisses against your fingertips.

“you're ridiculous.” you roll your eyes, a smile taking over your face as well.

“im being extra safe.” rafe grabs your suitcase, only packing a duffel bag for himself for your short vacation to the bahamas.

he continues to cross the tarmac, the nurse he hired to join you on the flight following close behind. you know it will help settle rafes nerves about you traveling while pregnant, so you don't continue to push.

you're surprised rafe let you out of the house at all, he's always been a protective boyfriend, putting you first at every moment, but when you became pregnant, his protectiveness took on a whole new level you didn't know existed.

“let me help you up the stairs.” rafe sets your bags down, hands coming to your waist as he follows closely behind you until you're inside of the private plane that rafe bought specifically to take you on vacations to the caribbean.

“thanks.” you giggle, deciding not to mention that you have stairs at tanneyhill that you climb up and down every day.

you settle into your seat, rafe joining the crew in buzzing around, the crew getting the plane ready for takeoff and rafe getting you ready with anything you could ask for before you even open your mouth.

you've got your seat reclined halfway so your feet can be up, the l&d sat directly behind you. a glass of cold water is placed in your hand and multiple kisses are pressed into your face and hair by rafe.

“takeoff in five.” rafe says to you, relaying the message just said over the intercom.

“okay.” you laugh. “thanks.” 

rafe takes his seat across the aisle from you, briefly regretting buying a plane that required you to be sat apart, but he knows it's only for a short duration.

you place your hand on your stomach as the tires start to move against the runway, making sure your seatbelt is below your belly.

“everything okay? is he kicking?” rafe questions.

“nope.” you shake your head. you've had a couple kicks but rafe hasn't been fast enough to feel one. “im fine. baby is fine. just preparing for takeoff.”

“okay.” rafe hums, keeping his eyes on you instead of out the window as the plane lifts off the ground. as soon as he's able to, he unbuckles and crosses the aisle, sitting on the arm of your chair as he dotes over you, pushing your hair out of your face and bringing the glass up to your lips to take a sip so you don't even have to raise your arm.

you let out a yawn, flights always making you tired, even short midday ones like this.

“nap time.” rafe declares, helping you recline your seat the rest of the way back before grabbing a blanket from the overhead bins and draping it over you.

you close your eyes as you let out another yawn, relaxing into the plush seat, glad you're not cramped in a tiny public airplane.

“it's safe for her to nap while we are in the air right?” rafe whispers to the nurse, hoping you don't hear.

“yes.” she chuckles, an older woman who says she's birthed thousands of babies.

“okay.” rafe nods. “thanks again.”

“honey, you're paying me to go on a two week vacation. no thanks needed.”

you miss the rest of their conversation as sleep overtakes you.

--

you let out a whine as you wake up, instantly throwing the blanket off of you and standing up so fast you get slightly dizzy.

“baby?” rafe is up in seconds, holding onto your hips as you begin to walk.

“im about to pee my pants!” you squeal and rush into the tiny bathroom, shutting the door right in rafes face although you're certain he would have crammed himself inside too if given the option.

you finish your business and come out with a frown on your face.

“i still feel like i gotta go.” you tell rafe as he walks you back down the aisle to your seat.

“that's the baby.” the nurse pipes up from behind you. “probably pressing on your bladder. he'll readjust and the feeling will go away.”

“oh.” you hum, patting your tummy. “move it, baby. you're making me uncomfortable.”

rafe kneels between your legs, placing one hand on your waist and the other on your hip, but not before pushing up your shirt to reveal your bump.

“come on, son.” rafe says in a soft voice. “be nice to your mama.”

you giggle as rafe presses his cheek into your skin, your eyes closing as you relax again.

you're guessing you're close to your destination and you're excited to land and go to the beach house your father passed down to you, buying his own bigger one on the other side of the island, always investing into new properties. 

they pop open when you feel the little foot pressing against your skin.

“rafe!”

“i felt it.” rafe looks up at you, wonder in his eyes as he presses his hand to the same spot his cheek was just resting on.

it's another minute before your baby kicks again, right against the warmth of rafes hand.

“hello baby.” rafe says, tears welling up in his eyes as he presses his lips to your tummy. “im here. daddys here.”

you bend down to give rafe a kiss, needing your lips against his as a tear slips down his cheek.

“you're gonna be the best dad ever.” you tell rafe. you never imagined when you started dating in high school that this is how your relationship would end up, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

“only because ive got the best girl to help me.” rafe kisses you deeply, moving to his feet to bend over and give you a proper kiss.

“woah there.” you giggle, pulling away. “wait until we get to the house.”

“what, don't wanna join the mile high club?” rafe grins, and you'd probably let him take you right there if it wasn't for the nurse clutching her pearls right behind you.

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry @wearemadeofstardust0

[hattiewritesalot]

Gevives (Beauty)

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader

Summary: Jacaerys, ever the hard worker, is late to bed. Again. Luckily for him, you’re very forgiving.

Warnings: Reader and Jace have a daughter, one or two mentions of stress and overload, Jace being babygirl. Literally just fluff tbh

A/N: how’s it going lads im a little bit (very) in love with this pouty princess. I also wrote this at midnight for my sister so enjoy

---------------------------------------------------------------

A soft sigh escapes you as the wooden chair creaks against the stone floor, rocking back and forth, lulling you and your sweet daughter as she snores, slumped against your chest.

She’s as loud as the day she was born, kicking and screaming as she was lowered into your arms for the first time, and now, thank the gods, she screams less. She has, however, taken after her father with her snoring, noisy enough to rumble Dragonstone itself. You’re not surprised - not entirely, at least. Little Rhaenyra has been a daddy’s girl since the moment Jace held her, since the moment her chubby fingers curled around his one, and he weeped into her downy head. It baffles you that that was so long ago - you can see the image as clear as day.

Speaking of your most beloved husband, he’s still not here. His tendency to overwork himself is shining through, and he’s all but locked himself in his study to sort through his papers and meetings and arrangements and everything boring that you sometimes have the urge to burn so maybe, just maybe, he’ll come to bed on time.

‘Perks of being the eldest son, my darling wife.’ He’d once grinned, amber eyes glinting in the sunlight with that twinkle of mischief you love so much. He’d kissed you, then, and slipped away to occupy himself with his duties.

You can’t be mad at him, not really, not when your heart is brimming with the love and devotion you have for your Jace. Not when you’re carding your fingers through your toddler’s dark curls as she dreams. It doesn’t stop you from being frustrated though. You hate it when he burns himself out like this, knowing all too well the way he crumbles when the day is done. You’ll always be there, though, to pick up the shards and put him back together again, knowing he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat.

The door creaks open, and then it closes with a squeal of the hinges, and quiet footsteps patter behind you, Jace’s face peering around the rocking chair. He winces. “You’re awake?”

You cock a brow, shooting him a look. “Yes, I’m awake. And so are you.”

He sighs, then, pressing those full lips to your forehead and cradling your face, his free hand reaching down to stroke Rhaenyra’s hair. “I’m sorry, my wife. Everything is so… overwhelming right now. Some days I want to rip Aegon’s hair out, and some days I want to rip my own out.” 

“Please don’t. I quite like your pretty curls.”

“As you tell me so often, gevives.” Gevives. Beauty. Gods, this man has a chokehold on your heart.

“Perhaps I will find it in myself to forgive you.” You finally push up off your chair, cracking your back, groaning. “Remind me not to sit in that chair for too long.”

“I do remind you. You don’t listen.”

“You’re on thin ice, Velaryon.” 

You lower Rhaenyra into her cot, rocking it and shushing her gently when she squeaks. Jace’s hands curl around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. “Our little princess.” He mumbles. “She’s perfect. Is she really ours?”

“Given that she snores like a bear and pouts all day, I’d say she is.”

He snorts. “I do not pout.” 

“He said, pouting.”

“You’re mean.” He turns you around, now, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. You love it when he’s this close, when you can count every freckle, every streak of gold and brown in his eyes, every curl. You smile at him. “You love it.”

He sighs dramatically, shaking his head, as if every word he speaks ails him. “Yes, yes I do. Gods save me from my cruel wife and her cruel ways.”

You scoff, but laughter bursts through it, pushing his shoulder and walking to the bed. “Fine. I guess you won’t be sleeping next to your cruel wife, then?” 

He’s scrambling out of his day clothes and under the covers before you can even fathom it, pulling you into his arms. He has the blood of the dragon, and runs hot when he sleeps. It’s nice on colder nights like this one, where you could bury yourself in his arms and never leave. His deft fingers trail up and down your spine, lips pressed against your hairline.

He calls you the beauty, but it is only because you are so infatuated with the man next to you. Every part of him; the sweet, gentlemanly parts, and the bitter, ugly parts; holds a dear place in the organ beating beneath your breast. Jacaerys Velaryon isn’t just your husband - he’s your best friend, your soul-mate (as the poets may say), and every time his fingers intertwine with yours, you like to think that your very beings intertwine too. You and Jace will find each other wherever you need to, for you know he is never far when he loves you so.

He sighs, nestling into your hair, and you gently kiss his jaw. “Promise me something, husband?”

He hums in response.

“Promise me you’ll take a break tomorrow?”

It takes him a long moment, but eventually, he swallows, nodding, body sagging against yours. “I’m sorry, I just-“

“Hush, I don’t need to hear it. I love you, alright? Even if you don’t show up to bed on time, even if you sometimes infuriate me with how much you put on yourself.”

He chuckles softly at that, pulling you in closer. “I adore you, my lady.”

You’re half-asleep by now, safe and content within the comfort of your lover’s arms. “Not as much as I adore you.”

You could have this argument for years, endless bickering of ‘I love you more’s, but you don’t. Not now, at least.

Now, you hold each other, falling asleep within the solidarity of your love.

---------------------------------------------------------------

I actually like this sort of a tiny bit

[hobie-enthusiast]

ALEX I JUST HAD AN IDEA...

so you know how spidey sense like, lets the spider know that there's a danger nearby before it gets to them? what if there was a spidey sense but for like, not danger. yk. like. LIKE...

i imagined hobie sitting by himself somewhere, not really paying attention? and then he gets this feeling that envelopes him whole and gives him the warm fuzzies and makes him smile, and he doesn't get what it is until his s/o comes up behind him and hugs him from behind, or like slaps his shoulders trying to scare him and he just wuvs them so much

im so soft you made me soft for hobie look what you've done!!!!

- your friendly neighborhood 🕷️ anon [ idc if emoji anons are so last year im spider anon now >:) ]

THAT FUNNY FEELING !

— hobie brown x gn!reader

— fluff, just straight fluff, hobie being so in love its crazy, petnames and lots more fluff

— hobie's spider-senses were giving him a new sensation, but he couldn't really put his finger on what it was

— ANON THIS IS SO ADORABLE MUWAH! ALSO EMOJI ANONS ON TOP I LOVE IT

Hobie had been getting a new warm feeling that he didn't understand.

It happened whenever he was at peace. There was never any danger near him or around him. He could be sitting there, minding his business, only for this warm feeling to engulf his entire body. His mind draws blank as it’s engulfed with that damn fuzzy feeling.

He could never say he hates it though. It reminds him of you.

It comes at him whenever he’s somewhere with you. Whether the two of you are just hanging out, winning a battle, or walking around, he’s randomly hit with a wave of a good-feeling. One that stays with him for a small while, that feels like happiness spreading through his body.

That's how he mentally connected it to you. Of course, he didn't think for a while you truly were the cause. Not until recently.

You practically begged him to come over, to take the day off from being Spider-man and hang out with you. Hobie always had a hard time saying no to you, so he agreed.

You were out at the local shoppe by this point, so he let himself in (with the spare key you gave him of course). He looked to find ways to entertain himself, settling on strumming his guitar. He kicked his feet onto your bed as he lied back in your desk chair.

After a small while, he started getting that feeling again. That fuzzy one that engulfs him entirely, making him feel good. He glances up to look around, but sees nothing. He found it odd, but maybe it meant you were back home?

Nah, he was kidding himself. The connection was probably just in his head.

—

You place your groceries on the counter, ears picking up the sound of a guitar playing. You smile to yourself. Of course you know who the culprit was. He had a key because of you anyways.

Slowly, you creep up to your bedroom, carefully cracking the door. You keep quiet as you admire your boyfriend from afar. He seemed so relaxed, which wasn't usual for him.

Hobie deserved some peace and relaxation after saving so many people. You seemed to be the only one who truly thought that. Miguel didn't see it that way. The criminals among New York didn't understand that. And even Hobie himself didn't think he deserved a break for doing what he's supposed to.

So watching him so.. unaware for once truly was a sight.

You enter the room as quietly as possible, creeping up behind him to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

When you crept up, Hobie was engulfed by that feeling again. A warm smile crosses his face when he feels you lean against him, laughing in his shoulder.

"There ya are." He said with a small laugh. "I had a feelin' you were home."

You raise an eyebrow, smile never faltering. "What? No you didn't! You were so unaware when I snuck up behind you!"

Hobie raises his eyebrows, the feeling slowly fading from his body. So he was right! That warm and euphoric feeling did come from you, his lover. No one else could make him feel that way, not even close.

"Oooh, does the tingle work even for me?" You ask in an excited tone.

"The.. tingle?"

You nod happily, moving so you sit on the bed by his legs. "Yeah! You know, the thing you use to sense danger."

God Hobie found you so.. mesmorizing. Your truly somewhat childish nature that wasn't that but close, he loved it.

"Nah, only works for danger, love." He responds, looking down and strumming his guitar.

"Then you can't sense me! I'm like a ninja. This is perfect." You say, standing and grabbing Hobie's arm. "C'mon, I have some groceries for dinner."

He nodded and stood, guitar on the bed as he followed you to the kitchen. Of course he was going to keep the sensation a secret. He wanted to keep that for himself, a way you make him feel. And besides, what's the harming in letting you think that you could sneak up on him?

It could bring more heartfelt moments like that.

—

Ever since then, Hobie pretended to be blissfully unaware.

He pretended like he couldn't feel you sneaking up on him to scare him. He pretended he never knew you were right behind him, waiting for him to see you. He pretended like he didn't expect your "unexpected" or "surprise" hugs.

Because honestly, he loved you. Hobie loved these little things, even if it sounded weird in itself. He loved having a partner who was always catching him off-guard with affection, even if he was sensing it.

There are random times when the two of you are just sitting together, each one doing a separate activity. He would be on his guitar and you would be catching up on your latest game or book.

Then, that feeling would hit Hobie. He would feel the fuzies he felt from before, and a smile graces his face. It prompts him to move to hug you from behind, nuzzling his head into your shoulder or neck.

When you question him, "What are you doing, love?"

He just sighs, smile never leaving his face. "Just love ya, so damn much sweetheart."

Certainly enough to make your heart melt and cheeks go red. You always found these moments slightly odd, however. He initiated those moments whenever you planned to try and scare him or give him your own surprise hug.

He always beat you to it. Not that you could complain, oh no. If anything, you welcome this with open arms.

You had a slight feeling that Hobie wasn't being entirely honest when he said he truly never knew when you were behind him. Hobie was always aware of his surroundings. But that didn't make you think for too long. You chalked it up to Hobie just letting his guard down around you, and that made you feel nice.

This new sense of Hobie's was his personal favourite, one that he's glad comes from you, the very person he loves and appreciates so so dearly.

[jinxlovebot]

“i love you, jinx.” - jinx x fem!reader fluff oneshot!!

…………………………………………………………………………………

Y/N and Powder have been friends forever, constantly by eachothers sides and never leaving. Powder promised her when they first met that she’d always be her best friend no matter what. So, when Silco took in Powder obviously Y/N followed.

Years later…

Y/N tiredly walks towards Jinx’s workstation after a long day working with Sevika, all she wanted was to see her bestfriend who she had been crushing on ever since they first met. Y/N was never going to tell her because she was too afraid of loosing her.

“Jinx! Im back.” Y/N shouted over the booming music. No reply. Typical, Y/N thought as Jinx was working on her bombs banging and swaying her head side to side on beat. This time she shouted louder,

“Jinx!”

“Thats me! Oh hey sugar! Watcha got there?” Jinx hops out of her chair pushing up her work glasses to her forehead and takes the box out of her hands and opens it. Y/N had brought back scrappy pieces of metal, screws etc. for Jinx (mainly to impress her) to use on her work.

“Are these for me?” Jinx teasingly asked, leaning forward close to Y/N’s now flushed face. “Y-yeah, hm! I saw the box when i was out with uh, Sevika! and she said i should bring them back for you!” Jinx smirks and walks back to her work bench and places the box down, “Sureee, Sevika. Thanks sugar for bringing these back!” , she says as walks down along one of the huge propeller fans towards her couch and pats beside her.

“So, what have you been up to all day?” Y/N akwardly asks, making small talk. “Ya know, working, listening to music… Y/N? Can i ask you something?”

Fuck.

Y/N thought of all the worst possible things. Maybe Jinx knew how she felt? Would she think she was weird?

“Yeah! What is it, Jinx?”

Jinx scoots closer and puts her left leg over Y/N’s. Crossing them, she then puts her arm upon the back of the couch.

“Do you like me?”

Y/N froze. Oh no, she knew all along! And she.. looks not weirded out at all?

“J-Jinx.. How did you know?”

“It was pretty obvious idiot. Seriously your a terrible faker!!”

Jinx giggles and tucks Y/N’s hair behind her ears. “But, dont worry cupcake. I like you too.” Jinx kicks her legs down and straddles Y/N’s lap, she leans in and lightly kisses her soft lips. When parting, Y/N grips the back of Jinx’s head and kisses her passionately before pulling away and gripping her tight.

“I love you, Jinx.”

“I love you too, Sugar.”

………………………………………………………………………………….

i am literally so obsessed with Jinx lately!! She literally makes me feral ugh i love her, and for some reason i feel like she would call her girlfriend sugar… idk 😼 anyway, lmk if you guys want more!! thinking of posting a smut w her hehe