#it was wild. i thought of him in my mind and i kid you not like immediately after i started tearing up

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: omegaverse, size difference, reader's second gender is omega, so there are mentions of pregnancy, somewhat subjugating omega politics, old-fashioned high-class politics of sorts

♡ prequel to this

♡ GN reader

His eyes are garnet and slim—you can’t make up your mind if they’re judgemental or just assessing. Either would be allowed, of course. The point of the date is for him to decide if you’re sufficient or not.

And yet, you’re the one taking him in. His main is ashen blonde, boyishly spikey and wild—not fine-kempt and slick like you’d pictured. He didn’t have any grey hair either, or stubble, or wrinkles. Though he’s still much bigger and burlier than they are, he can’t be any older than the eldest males back at the institution.

He’s obviously an Alpha, and still, it’s so odd.

“You’re young,” you end up saying.

His nose scrunches. “No younger than you.”

It must have sounded accusatory, even when you only meant to point it out for yourself. You probably ought to have said it silently, inside yourself, and not out loud like you did.

And so you apologize, “I’m sorry, I was—I was just expecting someone older…” You try smiling, but the thought of him actually having been older makes your throat tight, and you swallow thickly instead. “Much older.”

He sighs, looks off to the side instead of at you. His brows tighten—you probably want someone who’s already got a house and a car and a boat on a lake, not to mention a good salary and not the intern pay he’ll be living off of for at least the next year or so. His foot taps beneath the table. You feel it in the floorboards. “You disappointed or somethin’?” he grumbles through grit teeth and a slim frown.

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head, blruting, “No!” You even jump out of your chair, both hands slamming flat on the table, making the napkin-wrapped cutlery clatter within their confines. 

Quickly, but too late, you realize you’re causing a scene. Cheeks burning, you look around before settling down again—you’re not making a very good first impression so far.

You take a breath, confessing, “I mean, I’m happy,” You place your hands in your lap and then start fiddling with them. “This way, we can be together for a long time…” Your voice is breathy as you let out a somewhat apologetic sigh, smiling some. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you don’t dare look up to gauge his expression.

You end up laughing nervously in the silence, feeling the joke arise before you're able to dispel it. “I was afraid I was gonna have to be your nurse soon.”

His foot stops tapping. Then he scoffs.

You perk up again, fumbling over your newest mistake, already apologizing a second time so far, “I’m sorry, that was rude. You’re just not what I was expecting—I’m a little caught off guard, is all.”

He huffs, then grins. “That’s okay. You don’t gotta apologize.”

You both sit in silence after that. You pick your nails more. All the questions you’ve prepared are useless given his age—he doesn’t have an answer to how many kids he wants from you. Probably. It somehow feels strange asking him when he isn’t in his thirties or forties or early fifties.

You look at him in askance. It really is odd.

“You can ask—if you’re curious,” he sanctions.

You really want to, but you’ve made enough mistakes already. Your teachers wouldn’t be proud if they witnessed you acting so childish and not as the proper little lady they’ve trained you to be. 

“No, I shouldn’t.” You shake your head and look down at your lap.

“Come on, you don’t gotta worry about being rude with me,” he insists.

You bite your lip, feeling fidgety in your chair, peering up at him. “You sure?”

“Hit me.” 

The question leaps from your tongue before you have the mind to regret it. “How can you afford this?”

He leans back in his chair. “I can’t—not yet. My folks are paying.”

You hum—that makes more sense. “They must be nice,” you say.

“They try,” he agrees.

There’s a silence again. You don’t have anything appropriate to ask. You were more prepared to talk when spoken to, to answer his questions about your health and hobbies, all silly things that make you cute and likable, but given he’s your age, none of it seems any interesting. It seems he doesn’t have much to ask, either.

“I was unsure about this,” he declares after a while. “To be honest with you, it was all my mom’s idea. I didn’t ask for it…” With a pause, he picks up the menu that had been lying undisturbed in wait for his decision. “But, she tends to be right about most things. So, I think I’ll take the offer this once.”

He lets you decide without ordering for you. Neither of you decide to drink, even though you’re both old enough. The conversation is awkward, but you giggle a couple of times and he smirks in turn. You hadn’t anticipated it—this feeling. You’d anticipated the nerves and the tension—but not this other thing, this sweet fluttering feeling blossoming in your belly, flirty and fizzy. Is this what they call butterflies?

He’s left asking himself the same question.

♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[cosmicdahlias]

Can Bill Come Out To Play?

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

warnings: smut, possession, masochism, consensual torture, knife play, blood play, blood as lube, oral, spanking, choking, bruising, fainting, slapping, dubcon impreg, putting cigarettes out on you

okay y’all this one is supremely fucked up, i know i’ve written my share of dark fics but this one takes the cake if the warnings are any indication. it was a request by @thegrovesheart but i probably went way more overboard than what they were asking for. i’m sorry y’all are about to see how bad my kinks are, hopefully you’ll still enjoy the ride 🤞

It was late at night, you and Ford had just finished a long day of working on the portal. You were cuddled up in bed, him pressed up against you as the big spoon. He was lazily tracing his fingers over the curves of your body. You had been about to fall asleep, but the sensation of his hands on you was too arousing. You rolled over, facing him and slipped your hand to his cock.

You stroked him and he let out a soft moan, his eyes closed in pleasure. You kissed him deeply, when you pulled back he opened his eyes, they were different, wild and yellow with reptilian slits for pupils.

“Ford?”

He laughed, even his voice was off, higher, more sinister. He smiled wide, almost like the corners of his mouth were about to split open.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. The name’s Bill Cipher, I’m your good old boyfriend here’s muse. I figured if I’m gonna be in his mind I might as well get acquainted the little minx that occupies his thoughts when they’re not about me. That’s right, kid, the man’s absolutely obsessed with you, well, not more than me, but you’re a close second.”

“So what do you want with me?”

“Well, dollface, I’ve been taking a peek into your dreams and I gotta say, you are quite the freak. I’m honestly impressed, most humans don’t enjoy pain nearly as much as you do. Have you told Fordsy? I doubt it, honestly he’d be too much of a pussy to do any of the shit you think about. And that’s where I come in, you love fucking Ford, but he’ll never truly satisfy you in the way you want. I have no hangups about causing pain, hell I love it! If you agree, I’ll give you everything you want and more. What do you say?”

After your time researching things like demonic possession the idea of being fucked by a demon always excited you. And the fact that he’d hurt you in ways that Ford never would? Fuck the hell yes. You should have been terrified, but when you looked into those yellow eyes you only felt desire.

“Deal.”

“Ahahaha, perfect. Let’s get started.”

Ford’s hands traveled down your body, his grip rougher than normal. He put a hand to your neck and sank his teeth into your throat. You yelped as he drew blood, it seeped down your neck and Ford dragged his tongue over the crimson liquid.

“Fuck, I forgot how good that tastes.”

He got up, searching for something.

“I know sixer keeps one around here somewh- aha!” He said, pulling out a large hunting knife.

He walked back over to the bed, getting on top of you. He dragged the flat end of the blade against your skin, every so often testing the waters by poking you with the tip light enough to not slice into your flesh, not yet. Goosebumps formed from the sensation, no one had ever done anything to you like this, you were on cloud nine.

“I think you’ll like this.” He smiled.

He let the knife travel to your inner thigh and begin to cut the soft skin. You winced and moaned. Bill let out a cold laugh.

“God you’re fucked up, kid.”

He took his time carving the words “Bill’s slut” into your thigh, pearls of blood forming at the surface. Satisfied with his work he gathered your blood on his fingertips.

“Open that pretty mouth.”

You did so and his fingers entered, the metallic taste hitting your tongue. He pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his lips aggressively to yours, tongue shoving its way into your mouth, searching for the taste of blood.

He pulled away. His wide smile hadn’t left his face since he took hold of Ford. He reversed his hold of the knife, gripping the sharp blade in his hand. He teased the entrance of your pussy with the hilt. You were dripping at the idea, inching yourself closer.

He shoved the handle aggressively inside you, fucking you with it. He didn’t let up on his grip, the knife sinking into Ford’s palm, blood trickled down the knife.

“Whoops, might as well make the best of it.”

He pulled the handle out of you and covered Ford’s blood in it before resuming fucking you with the hilt.

“Bet you never used blood as lube before have you? And judging by how wet you are I’d say you’re enjoying this.”

You whimpered, bucking your hips. Blood continued to drip from Ford’s hand, staining the sheets. He pulled the knife out and dragged you headfirst to the edge of the bed, tilting your head back back. He stroked his cock and thumbed your tongue.

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth and I’m not gonna stop even when you choke and gag on Fordsy’s cock, sound good?”

You nodded.

“Good, just try not to puke on his dick, I don’t think he’d appreciate that.”

He lined the tip up with your open lips before violently forcing his way into your mouth, holding a hand to your throat the entire time.

He thrusted relentlessly and you began to gag, saliva pooling on the floor. He pinched your nipples hard, you let out a muffled moan.

“That’s right, moan on his cock.”

He carried on fucking your mouth. Savoring your desperate attempts to breathe. He debated on covering your nose just to make things harder, he loved to see you struggle.

He pulled out, you coughed and gasped for air. He picked you up and flipped you over on your stomach, shoving your face down into the pillow and raising your ass. Ford bent over and picked up his belt. He came up behind you and brought it down hard on your ass. You moaned as a welt began to form. He continued lashing you until your legs began to shake.

“Man you really can take a beating.”

He flipped you over again, this time on your back and slipped the belt around your neck then climbed on top of you, hand tugging on the leather.

“I’ve always wanted to know what pussy feels like, Fordsy makes it sound even better than pain with the way he describes it”

He didn’t waste any time preparing you, brutally shoving his full length inside you, pumping rapidly. He moaned loudly.

“Ah ahahaha, fuck, now I see why sixer fantasizes about this all the time. It feels fucking incredible.”

He pulled hard on the belt, choking you. You tightened around his cock. Capillaries in your neck started to break, you were going to be left with one hell of a bruise. He was ruthless, fucking you with cruel intensity.

He pulled the belt even tighter, you began to asphyxiate. Finding this insanely hot, but still valuing your life you tried to tell Ford to loosen his grip, but your windpipe was being crushed. All you could manage out was a guttural choking noise as you clawed at the belt.

“I’m sorry, what was that? I can’t quite make it out.” He said, ignoring your obvious attempts to breathe. He pulled as tight as he could, you couldn’t even gasp. “Oh well, must not be important.” He shrugged, continuing to fuck you.

Despite what felt like a threat to your life you found yourself incredibly turned on. Your vision started to go black. The last thing you heard was a maniacal laugh.

-

When you came to Ford was still fucking you.

“Whoa hey you’re back, thought we lost you for a second there.” He said with his twisted smile.

His hands found your hips, he gripped them, nails digging into your flesh hard enough to break the skin.

“Say my name, slut.” He demaned.

“Nnngh, Ford.” You moaned.

He backhanded you. “I SAID SAY MY NAME, YOU STUPID CUNT!” He shouted.

“B-Bill.” You whimpered.

“That’s better. Remember who’s really in control here, sixer will never fuck you like this.”

He pounded you into the mattress. He felt himself close to cumming.

“So you’re gonna find this hilarious, I’ve been having sixer switch out your birth control with sugar pills. That’s right, they do jack shit. I’ve always been fascinated by human pregnancy and I mean hey, you’re young and fertile. And it’s too late to stop me now. Ahahahaha!”

Before you could even think to push him off you he pinned you down by the wrists, cumming deep inside you. He bucked rapidly, ropes of hot cum shooting inside you. He grunted, refusing to stop even when his cock began hurt. God he loved causing Ford pain. He didn’t know how humans got anything done or why they didn’t just fuck 24/7.

Ford took your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Well this was fun, but it’s probably time for me to give old Fordsy his body back, don’t yo- oh wait, one last parting gift.”

He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a lighter and pack of cigarettes. He took one out and lit it up, taking a long drag and puffing the smoke in your face. He grinned wildly, turning your head to expose your neck and putting it out on your skin. You screwed your eyes shut and moaned loudly. He bent down and licked the burn.

“Oooh wee, you sure are fun. I’m definitely coming back for more, but I think I’m satisfied for now. Okay byeeeeeeeee.”

Ford’s head snapped back. He shook his head, blinking rapidly, his eyes returning to normal.

“Ugh, wh- what happened? Did I black ou- “ He looked down at you and gasped in horror, backing away from you to the foot of the bed.

You were a shaking mess, you honestly looked like you’d been through a bear attack.

“Y/N! WHAT HAPPENED? WHO DID THIS TO YOU?” He started to hyperventilate.

You sat up and took his face in your hands. “Hey hey, it’s alright, I wanted this.”

“OH MY GOD ARE YOU OKAY? SHOULD I TAKE YOU TO THE HOSPITAL? SHOULD I FILE A POLICE REPORT? DID I DO THIS? WHY AREN’T YOU SAYING ANYTHI-“ he froze. “D- did you say you wanted this?”

You kissed him.

“Look, I have been having some… fantasies and Bill and I both agreed that you wouldn’t be able to do them to me on your own.”

“You met Bill?”

“He was possessing you, but yeah I met him.”

He stared at you, looking terrified before attempting to fix his face to a more neutral expression, almost like he was afraid he would be punished for showing fear.

“That’s- that’s wonderful. I always hoped he’d let you meet him someda-“ now that the adrenaline had settled he got a good look at you. “Oh baby your neck.” He looked down. “Y- your thigh.”

Blood was trickling from both wounds. He looked at you with great concern.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Like I said, I wanted this.”

Without saying a word he got off the bed and left the room, he returned with a first aid kit. He sat next to you.

“Come here.” He whispered softly.

You leaned into him as he saturated a cotton ball in disinfectant.

“Now this is going to sting quite a bit.”

He applied the soaked cotton ball to your neck wound, you drew in a sharp breath at the sensation.

“I know, I’m sorry baby.”

“No it’s okay, I like the pain.”

He gave small chuckle. “So I’ve heard.”

He took a second cotton ball, wetting it with disinfectant, pressing it to the branding that Bill had left you. You winced.

Ford kissed your cheek. “Almost done, stardust. You’re doing so good.”

He pulled gauze and medical tape out of the first aid kit. He started with the bite, lining up the gauze to cover it and securing it in place with the tape. He then turned his attention to the words carved into your thigh, doing the same.

He got up and inspected you carefully from every angle until he noticed the cigarette burn.

“Ah, hold on.”

He left the room again, coming back this time with a soapy wet rag. He sat down next to you again and gently cleaned the wound.

“You can’t use disinfectant on a burn, slows the healing.”

He then dressed the burn the same way he had for your other injuries.

He had always secretly liked treating and bandaging your wounds, he found it to be quite intimate, not even in a sexual way, just that it allowed him to be close to you.

He cupped your cheek in his hand and went to kiss you when he realized he’d gotten blood on your face. He looked down at his hand and shook his head.

“Guess Bill got me too.”

“Don’t worry, I got it.” You smiled.

You took his hand, treating and dressing it just as he had done for you. As you finished wrapping is hand in tape you kissed his knuckles.

He laid back in bed and patted the space in front of him. You crawled up next to him, returning to spooning position. He buried his nose in the crook of your neck and sighed deeply. You were seconds from falling asleep when your eyes snapped open, remembering what Bill had done to your birth control.

“Oh yeah, so uh… Bill might’ve made you knock me up.”

“WHAT???”

-

In the morning Ford would make you stay in bed, insisting you needed rest. For the next few weeks he watched you like a hawk, secretly recording any possible pregnancy symptoms. He pretended to be nonchalant about you being knocked up, only entertaining the idea if you did, but deep down the thought of you pregnant excited him.

He had always imagined continuing his legacy, teaching his child everything he knew. One day he was going to be gone and someone was going to have to continue his work, and he wanted to keep it in the family. He spent his nights after working on the portal holding you, rubbing your stomach after you fell asleep, hoping, praying even that Bill had given him a miracle.

[mentha-vacciniumrainbow]

Zestmilla tickle fights with the girls?

Nice idea, can do! (Hope you enjoy, is a silly little thing 💜)

《Clara, no 》 warned Carmilla, but it was all useless, as her daughter got ready to pounce on her

《Clara yes! 》 The kid screamed, jumping from the top of the wardrobe and onto her mother, her little hands busy tickling her 《I got you! Mum is my prisoner now! 》

《Stop it! I'm serious! 》 scolded Carmilla between laughters, carefull to move herself so that both her and her daughter would hit a soft surface when they would inevitably fall 《No TV the whole weekend! No spicy chips! No... No skateboarding! 》

《Worth it! 》 giggled the child, well aware that none of those threats would be followed by action. Her mum liked to act as she didn't enjoy their surprise attacks, but truth was, she could always see them coming from a mile away and never did anything to stop them from happening

《Stop! 》 She ordered again, as they fell on the bed and her dearest friend entered the room, alerted by the noise but not particularly panicked

《Zestial, a little help, please! 》 She pleaded, but Zestial, her oldest friend, the almost father of her daughters, her lighthouse in the storm, simply watched her with a knowing smirk, as he made his way towards them

《Thou doth not seem to particularly mind, mine dear 》 he noted, simply standing as her hyperactive child had the time of her life tickling her and undoing her neat updo.

So, apparently that was how he wanted to play, this time

《Traitor 》

《At least thou art getting cuddles 》 he comforted, and Clara stopped her assault to look at him dead in the eyes, a fanged smile brightening her round little face even more

《Don't worry jefe*, we won't make you feel left out》

《We? 》 asked Zestial, starting to look around the room, but it was already too late

《SURPRISE ATTACK 》

《Odette! 》

The child threw herself from the chandelier, successfully managing to knock Zestial to the ground and climb on him to deliver her own ticklish assault

《I'm speed, I'm stealth, I'm grace, I'M THE INVISIBLE TICKLER! 》

《I see thee perfectly, little lambkin 》 he laughed, still a bit out of breath, as he tried to rise, but his daughter was of a different opinion, and climbed on his chest as she pulled a long feather out of her sleeve

《Not for long! Feather attack! 》

《No! Not the feather, my only weakness 》 he played along 《show some mercy, I beg thee! 》

《No! Clara, I need help, dad is too tall to tickle alone! 》

《Reinforces are coming! 》

Assured the other, climbing off of her mother and joining her twin in her endeavour.

As his two beloved little menaces went wild on him and his poor clothes, Zestial noticed his dearest swiftly recomposing herself and preparing to slither out of the room

《Carmilla, mine dear... 》

He tried in his meekest voice, but this time it was her turn to smirk as she watched from above

《Na-ah. You were ready to leave me to my destiny, I'm leaving you to yours. Good luck, dear friend! 》

With a satisfied smile, she made her escape and closed the door behind her.

"Oh well, I deserved it." He thought "Yet, I shall nonetheless have my own ticklish revenge on mine loveliest lady... after our little ones are settled for the night, without a doubt."

*"Jefe" is the Spanish word for "boss", but is also affectionately/respectfully used for one's parents. I have a whole headcanon around it -used in my main fanfiction "You bring back my Springtime"-, but long story short, it's Clara's way of indirectly recognising Zestial as her dad, where Odette is more explicit.

[acute-scary]

Between the Ropes… a Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley fanfic.

Chapter 18: and Away..

Jey sat on the edge of the bed, tucking Jeyce in tightly under the soft blanket adorned with dinosaurs. The night was quiet except for the sound of the shower running upstairs where his older son Jaciyah was finishing up. Jeyce's curls were still damp from the fun-filled day he’d had with his uncle Jon, Aunt Trinity, and his cousins, running wild on the water bouncy castle. The excitement of the day had finally worn him down, his little body tired but his mind still full of questions.

"Dad, today was the best," Jeyce said with a sleepy grin. "I love the bouncy castle! Uncle Jon said I was the fastest jumper!"

Jey chuckled, his heart swelling at the sight of his son’s joy. "Yeah? You were probably giving everyone a run for their money, huh? I'm glad you had a great time, buddy."

Jeyce wiggled a bit under his blanket, his eyes growing heavy, but his mind was still spinning with thoughts. "Dad... can I ask you something?"

"Of course, little man. What’s on your mind?" Jey asked, brushing a stray curl off his son’s forehead.

Jeyce paused for a moment, his face serious for such a young boy. "Is Rhea my bonus mommy?"

Jey felt a warmth spread through him at the question, his heart catching for just a moment. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he looked down at his son, who was gazing up at him with innocent curiosity. The thought of Rhea being seen as part of their family, especially through the eyes of his kids, made something deep in him stir—a feeling of peace, of hope, of a future he wanted more than anything.

"I'm working on it, Jeyce," Jey said softly, his voice full of quiet emotion. "I'm working on making her your bonus mommy."

Jeyce's smile widened, lighting up his face. "I hope she stays forever, Dad. I really like her."

Jey felt his throat tighten, emotion washing over him. He had to fight back the tears threatening to spill as his son’s words hit him straight in the heart. He leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on Jeyce’s forehead.

"Me too, buddy. Me too."

With that, Jey watched as his son’s eyes finally fluttered closed, his breathing evening out as he drifted off into a peaceful sleep. Jey sat there for a few moments longer, the weight of his son's simple, heartfelt wish settling in his chest. He kissed Jeyce goodnight once more, stood up quietly, and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

As Jey walked down the hallway, he spotted his eldest son, Jaciyah, exiting the bathroom. The steam from the shower still lingered in the air, and Jaciyah, towel draped over his shoulders, looked up at his dad, who was ready to wish him goodnight.

"Night, son," Jey said softly, his voice filled with the usual warmth of a father who’d spent a good day with his kids.

But Jaciyah stopped in his tracks, lifting his hand to halt his father. “Wait, Dad. Tell Rhea thank you for switching out the butter popcorn for the kettle popcorn... and for the extra Jolly Ranchers.” His words were simple, but the small gesture clearly meant something to him.

Without waiting for a reply, Jaciyah turned and headed into the room he shared with Jeyce, leaving Jey standing in the hallway with a smile tugging at his lips. It amazed him how Rhea had managed to weave her way into his children’s hearts with such ease.

Jey felt a flutter in his chest, a mix of pride, gratitude, and love swelling within him. His steps grew lighter as he walked to the guest bedroom, where Rhea was waiting. Pushing open the door softly, he found her curled up in the comforter, her dark hair splayed out over the pillows, the peaceful rise and fall of her breathing a soothing sight. Jey couldn’t help but smile, knowing how much this woman had come to mean to him.

Quietly, he undressed, slipping out of his clothes and climbing under the comforter. He shuffled closer to her, his body instinctively drawn to her warmth. Jey wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her shoulder softly.

"Did you enjoy the day?" he asked, his voice a low murmur in the dim light.

Rhea shifted slightly, her face still half-buried in the pillow as she let out a contented sigh. "Of course," she whispered back, her voice soft but full of happiness. "It was perfect."

Jey swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat as his mind wandered to the small gift he’d been waiting to give her. His heart pounded in his chest, loud enough that he wondered if she could hear it too. It was now or never. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

"Rhea..." Jey’s voice wavered slightly as he reached into the nightstand, his fingers brushing against the small box he had hidden there earlier. "I wanna give you something."

Rhea turned slightly, curious, her eyes meeting his in the dim light of the room. Jey pulled out the box but kept it closed for now, reaching in further to retrieve the necklace he’d stashed away. His hand shook just a little as he sat up, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He turned to face her, his eyes locking with hers, the love he felt for her written plainly across his face.

"I need you to know something," he began, his voice low and thick with emotion. "You mean everything to me. I’ve never felt like this before… the way you care for my boys, the way you care for me. I don’t know how to explain it… I just… I love you. So deeply."

Rhea’s eyes softened, her lips parting as though she wanted to say something, but Jey wasn’t finished.

He opened his hand slowly, revealing the delicate necklace that rested in his palm. The small pendant shimmered in the soft light, catching her attention. "This… it has the ashes of our baby. I wanted you to have it. To carry a part of them with you."

Rhea’s breath hitched in her throat, her eyes glistening as they locked on the necklace. Her hand trembled as she reached out to touch it, her fingers brushing the pendant with the gentlest of touches. A single tear slipped down her cheek as she looked up at him, her eyes full of emotion.

"Jey… I…" Her voice broke, but she didn’t need to finish. The look on her face said it all.

Jey leaned in and pressed his forehead against hers, his thumb gently wiping away her tear. "I love you," he whispered again, his voice barely audible. "I’ll always love you. And I’ll never forget them. Neither will you."

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other’s presence, sharing the silent understanding of a love that ran deep and the shared grief they carried. The necklace glistened in the soft light, a symbol of both the loss they’d endured and the unbreakable bond they had forged through it all.

Jey's hands trembled slightly as he revealed the second piece he had kept hidden—a ring he had made for himself, containing the ashes of their unborn child. He looked down at it for a moment, the weight of the gesture hitting him all over again. Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet Rhea's, the love and sorrow mirrored between them.

"I wanted us both to carry the baby," Jey whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

"Forever."

Rhea's eyes filled with tears, her heart aching but so full of love for the man sitting before her.

Without another word, she leaned forward, cupping his face in her hands and kissing him with all the emotion she couldn't express through words. It was soft at first, a gentle meeting of their lips, but soon it deepened-full of longing, gratitude, and the unspoken grief they shared.

Jey kissed her back with the same intensity, feeling the warmth of her lips, her touch, and the connection they had always shared but that now felt even more profound. He could feel her tears mix with his own as their kiss broke momentarily, both of them breathing heavily, still wrapped up in each other.

Rhea rested her forehead against his, her lips brushing his as she whispered, "Jey, do you think... it's possible for us to be intimate tonight?"

Jey's eyes softened at her words, but there was concern lacing his expression. "Rhea, your ribs..." he began, his fingers lightly grazing the edges of her body as though afraid to hurt her.

Rhea smiled, her hands trailing down his chest, resting over his heart. "We'll go slow," she whispered, her voice filled with a quiet determination. "I want to feel close to you... I need you."

Jey hesitated for a moment, still worried about the bruises on her ribs and the trauma she had been through, but the way she looked at him— so full of love, of trust-made his resolve soften. He gave her a small nod, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from her face before gently pulling her on top of him. His fingers trailed down her back, resting lightly on her waist as she settled into his lap.

Rhea smiled at him, her eyes filled with tenderness as she slowly pulled her shirt over her head, revealing the stitches on her lower abdomen. Jey's heart tightened at the sight, the painful reminder of everything they had lost etched into her skin. He reached out and traced the stitches lightly, his touch reverent as though he was afraid to cause her more pain.

"You're beautiful," Jey murmured, his voice full of love and admiration. "You'll always be beautiful to me."

Rhea's breath hitched at his words, and she leaned down to kiss him, her lips soft against his as she whispered, "I want to stay beautiful for you, Jey. Always."

He kissed her back, pulling her closer, his hands sliding up her back as he held her. Every movement was careful, measured, but full of passion. Despite the bruises, despite the pain, they found comfort in each other, taking it slow, just as she had promised.

As Rhea shifted their positions, gently flipping them over, Jey found himself gazing down at her with a mixture of love, desire, and tenderness. He kissed her even more deeply, his lips capturing hers with a passion that left both of them breathless. Rhea responded eagerly, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer.

Between kisses, Jey murmured softly against her lips, "I love you… so much." Each word carried the weight of everything they had been through together-the love, the pain, the unspoken bond that had only grown stronger.

Feeling the intensity of the moment building, Jey reached to the nightstand where he kept the condoms, his fingers brushing the drawer.

But before he could grab one, Rhea gently placed her hand on his, stopping him. He paused, looking down at her with a mix of surprise and concern.

"Rhea… are you sure?" he asked softly, his voice thick with both longing and hesitation.

Rhea's eyes met his, filled with trust and something deeper—a desire to feel closer to him than ever before. "Just pull out," she whispered, her voice soft yet certain. "I want to feel all of you, Jey."

For a moment, Jey searched her face, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew this was a big step, but the way she looked at him-the love and vulnerability in her eyes—made his decision easy. He nodded, leaning down to kiss her again, his lips brushing against hers as he murmured, "Okay… if you're sure."

Rhea smiled softly, her hands sliding down his back as she pulled him closer. "I'm sure," she whispered against his lips, her voice filled with both love and anticipation. Jey kissed her again and he felt her push his boxer briefs down. Rhea adjusted her self to slide off her underwear, she was already wet with anticipation, the two had not been intimate in a while and it felt like the first time. Jey broke the kiss to suck on her sweet spot as his hand came up behind Rhea to unclasp her bra. Rhea moaned with ecstasy as her soft scratched his back, Jey nibbled on her neck as he felt that scratch of her fingernails. Jey made his way to her ears where he softly tugged at her and licked her lobe and she giggled, the little bites he would give her made the moment a bit more loving. "Is it bad that I miss your favorite position?" Jey said as he put his hand on her right breast to fondle with it as he kissed her neck softly.

"You know my... flexibility... we could do it again.." Rhea said as she felt Jey felt his member against her, he glanced at her and she smiled. Jey adjusted himself up a bit and Rhea flipped over, she lifted up her right leg and then her left and arched her back up very slightly. She moaned softly as he felt Jey rubbed his two fingers on her to make sure she was really wet and she sure was.. only for him. Jey positioned himself and he slowly entered Rhea. "Jey..." She gasped and Jey stopped, "Let me know when I can move.." He said and fuck he really wanted to move. Rhea took a couple of deep breaths and she slowly pushed into Jey. Jey looked down, he admired her tattoos, her beautiful behind, he believes this position got them in trouble.

"Jey....." She moaned as Jey picked up the pace more, he couldn't control his movements. Jey had his hands on her hips as he went deeper into her, he could see his member covered in her wetness as he pulled out and went back in. "Go harder.. fuck..." Rhea said as she fully let herself go to the man she was in love with. Jey pulled her hair as he let himself go and smacked her ass.

As they moved together, everything else seemed to fade away. It was just the two of them, their connection so strong that it felt like nothing could come between them. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word was a reminder of how deeply they loved each other how far they had come and how much they still had to look forward to. Their bodies in perfect sync as they shared this intimate moment. It wasn't just about physical closeness-it was about trust, love, and the promise that they would always be there for each other, no matter what.

—

The next morning, Rhea woke to the sound of her phone buzzing on the nightstand. Still half-asleep, she squinted at the screen, seeing an unfamiliar number but answered anyway.

"Hello?" she mumbled, her voice groggy from sleep.

"Hi, this is Stephanie from Wells Fargo. I’m calling to let you know that your loan has been paid off, and we’ll be mailing you the title to your car. You should receive it in 5 to 7 business days."

Rhea blinked, sitting up as the realization hit her. "Wait… the title to my car?"

"Yes," Stephanie confirmed. "Everything is all set. Have a great day!"

Rhea hung up the phone, staring blankly at the screen for a moment. How could she have forgotten about her car? It seemed absurd that something so simple had slipped her mind, but with everything that had happened recently, she wasn’t surprised. The trauma she’d gone through, losing the baby, the emotional toll, the constant worry—it had consumed her.

She sighed, feeling a bit stupid for letting such a basic thing slip through the cracks. But who could blame her? She had been through hell and back.

Rhea turned to look at Jey, who was still peacefully asleep beside her, his chest rising and falling with soft, steady breaths. Her heart swelled at the sight of him, his presence bringing her comfort. But then her mind drifted to a more pressing matter—the car itself. It was still at the house she had shared with Matt, a place she had no desire to return to.

The thought of stepping foot in that house again made her stomach turn. It was too soon. She wasn’t ready to face the memories, the pain, or the ghosts of what had happened there.

She bit her lip, unsure of how to ask, but she knew she had to. "Jey?" she whispered, gently nudging him awake.

Jey stirred, his eyes fluttering open as he turned to look at her, a sleepy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Morning, babe," he murmured, his voice still heavy with sleep.

Rhea returned the smile, but there was something weighing on her mind. "I need to ask you something," she said softly, her voice hesitant.

Jey immediately picked up on her tone and sat up, giving her his full attention. "What’s up?"

She swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. "Can you… retrieve my car? It’s still at the house I shared with Matt. I—I can’t go back there, Jey. I don’t think I’m ready. I just… I can’t face that place right now."

Jey’s expression softened as he took her hand, gently squeezing it. "Of course, I’ll get your car," he said without hesitation. "You don’t have to worry about that, Rhea. I’ll take care of everything."

Rhea let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders relaxing as the weight of her anxiety lifted slightly. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice full of gratitude.

Jey leaned in and kissed her forehead, his touch comforting. "You’ve been through enough," he said softly. "I don’t want you going back to that house unless you’re ready. I’ll go today and get your car, okay?"

Rhea nodded, feeling the familiar warmth of his love wrap around her like a blanket. "Okay," she whispered, her heart swelling with appreciation for the man by her side.

After Jey had showered and gotten dressed, he returned to the bedroom, asking Rhea, "Hey, where are your keys?"

Rhea looked up from her phone, smiling softly. "They’re in my purple suitcase," she said, pointing to where it sat at the foot of the bed.

Jey unzipped the suitcase, rifling through it until he found the keys. He straightened up and turned to Rhea, jingling them in his hand. "I’m gonna take Jon with me to get your car. We won’t be long."

Rhea nodded, a small wave of relief washing over her knowing Jey had it covered. "Thanks, babe," she said.

Jey walked over and kissed her goodbye, his lips lingering on hers for a moment before pulling away. "I’ll be back soon," he promised, giving her a reassuring smile before heading downstairs.

Jey descended the stairs, the smell of breakfast filled the air. He stepped into the kitchen to find Trinity at the stove, serving pancakes to Jon’s kids and his own. The scene was warm and comforting, a brief respite from the chaos that had marked their lives recently.

Jeyce, sitting at the table with his cousins, perked up when he saw his dad walk in. "Daddy!" he called out excitedly, his little face lighting up with a grin.

Jey couldn’t help but smile as he crossed the kitchen to kiss his son on the head. He then ruffled his older son Jaciyah’s hair, who tried to act like he wasn’t as thrilled, but Jey caught the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Where’s Jon at?" Jey asked Trinity as he glanced around the kitchen.

Trinity poured more orange juice into a glass and replied, "He’s in the gym, working out. You know him—couldn’t skip leg day even if the world was ending."

Jey chuckled, shaking his head. "Of course."

Just then, Jeyce piped up again, his big eyes wide with excitement. "Dad, are you and Rhea gonna come to the Science Center with us today?"

Jey raised an eyebrow and glanced at Trinity. "Science Center?" he asked, curious.

Trinity smiled at Jeyce, then turned to Jey. "Yeah, we’re taking the kids to the Science Center later. But I’m not sure if Rhea’s up for it after everything. She might need to rest."

Jeyce frowned at that, clearly disappointed. "But it’s just walking, not running," he reasoned, as if that would change things. He looked up at his dad with pleading eyes. "Please, Daddy, can you come? Please? And Rhea too? We won’t run or anything!"

Jey looked down at his son, seeing the hope in his little face. His heart melted a little at how much Jeyce wanted them both there. "Alright, alright," Jey finally said, ruffling his hair again. "We’ll come, but I gotta do something real quick with Uncle Jon first, okay?"

Jeyce’s eyes lit up, and he clapped his hands together excitedly. "Yay! Thanks, Daddy!"

Jey smiled, glancing over at Trinity, who gave him an approving nod. "Good luck dragging him away from the gym," she teased with a grin.

Jey chuckled, "Yeah, I’m gonna need it." With that, he headed toward the gym to grab Jon for their quick trip.

As Jey stepped into the garage, he saw Jon pushing through the last of a heavy set, sweat dripping from his face. The clanging of the weights echoed through the space, and when Jon spotted Jey, he set the barbell down with a grunt.

“What’s up?” Jon asked, wiping his face with a towel.

Jey exhaled. “I need you to drive me to Rhea and Matt’s house to get her car. She doesn’t want to go back there… and I don’t blame her.”

Jon gave a quick nod. “Got it,” he said, tossing his towel onto a nearby bench. Without hesitation, he grabbed his keys and the two of them headed to the car.

The ride was quiet at first, both of them lost in thought. Jon knew where Rhea and Matt lived—the house wasn’t far from their own. Jey, on the other hand, had never been there and didn’t know what to expect. As they pulled onto her street, Jey’s eyes widened slightly. The house was bigger than he had imagined, and the yard was sprawling, with a well-kept garden that seemed to stand in the turmoil Rhea had been going through.

“She’s got a nice spot,” Jey muttered, more to himself than Jon, as they pulled into the driveway. He couldn’t help but admire the garden—it was clear she’d poured a lot of care into it. He remembered Rhea mentioning how working on it helped her feel grounded, like it was the one thing she could control.

Jon parked the car, about to make a comment on how peaceful the house looked, when suddenly both brothers froze. Standing in the doorway, arms crossed and glaring at them with a venomous look, was Matt.

“What the…?” Jey muttered, eyes narrowing as he saw the man who had caused so much pain.

Jon, still gripping the steering wheel, gave a low whistle. “Looks like the bastard made bail,” he said, his voice tight with disbelief.

Jey’s jaw clenched. He hadn’t expected to see Matt here—not after everything that had happened. “I don’t believe it.” Jey’s voice was low, anger simmering beneath the surface.

Jon shot a glance at his brother, tension thick in the air. “Look like he is up for a game of whoop ass..”

Jey’s fists clenched at his sides, the urge to confront Matt almost overwhelming. He didn’t know what Matt’s game was, but seeing him standing there, at Rhea’s house, set off every protective instinct Jey had.

“We’ll get the car and go,” Jey said, trying to keep his voice steady, though his body was coiled with anger. He didn’t want this to escalate, but Matt’s mere presence felt like a challenge.

As they sat in the car, Jon’s hands still on the wheel, Jey stared back at Matt. For a moment, neither of them moved, and the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Let’s handle this,” Jon said, his tone serious, ready to back Jey up no matter what happened next.

As soon as Jey and Jon stepped out of the car, the tension between Jey and Matt was poison. They stared each other down in silence, until Matt finally broke it with a venomous sneer.

“How does it feel to break up two marriages, Jey?” Matt spat, his words sharp and full of bitterness.

Jey held his tongue, unwilling to give Matt the satisfaction of a reaction. But Matt wasn’t done.

“Do you even know if Rhea really loves you?” Matt pressed, stepping forward with a mocking smirk.

Jon stepped in, sensing the rising heat. “We’re just here to get Rhea’s car, man. That’s it.”

Matt shifted his glare to Jon, his expression darkening. “Oh yeah? Like when you and Trinity pulled up with the cops to take my animals?” His voice dripped with resentment.

Jey, fed up with Matt’s antics, finally spoke up. “We just need the car, Matt. That’s all.”

But Matt let out a maniacal laugh, the kind that sent a shiver down Jey’s spine. “Bring it!” Matt growled as he stormed toward Jey, fists clenched, his eyes wild with anger.

Before Jey could react, Matt swung at him. Jey dodged, narrowly avoiding the blow, and the two men immediately erupted into a full-on brawl. Punches were exchanged in a chaotic flurry, both men fueled by years of bad blood and unresolved tension.

Matt’s rage gave him a terrifying strength, and at one point, he managed to wrap his hands around Jey’s throat, squeezing tightly. Jey gasped for breath, feeling the world start to blur at the edges, but before Matt could do any more damage, Jon rushed in. He tackled Matt hard into the side of the house, the impact sending a loud thud reverberating through the air.

Matt crumpled to the ground, dazed and winded, while Jon stood over him, breathing heavily, ready to intervene again if needed. But Matt was done, his energy drained from the brutal scuffle.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jon said, his voice low and urgent as he wiped sweat from his brow.

Jey didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly unlocked Rhea’s Jeep and jumped inside, his adrenaline still pumping. As he started the engine, he glanced in the rearview mirror just in time to see Jon getting into his own car, prepared to follow.

They pulled out of the driveway in tandem, the tension from the fight still thick in the air. As Jey drove, he felt a sharp sting above his eyebrow. He reached up and touched the spot, realizing he was bleeding from where Matt had landed a punch. With a sigh, Jey wiped the blood away, his mind racing.

As they drove away from the house, the memory of Matt’s crazed look still fresh in Jey’s mind, his thoughts drifted to Rhea. He couldn’t wait to get back to her, to tell her it was done. They had her car, and now they could move forward—away from the chaos, together.

Jon said as soon as the two approached the Jon’s house and got out of their cars. “You good, Uce?”

Jey let out a breath, his heart still pounding. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice rough from the fight. “Just a little cut.”

Jon chuckled, though there was concern in his tone. “Glad I was there, bro. He had his hands around your neck.”

Jey smirked despite the situation. “Yeah, he tried. But I’m not going down that easy. Not for him.”

—

Jey and Jon walked back into the house, the air still thick with tension from the fight. As they entered, Trinity immediately noticed the cut on Jey’s eyebrow, her eyes widening in concern. But before she could say anything, Jey gave her a quick shake of his head, silently telling her not to ask. He wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.

Without another word, he headed upstairs, feeling the weight of the day pressing on his shoulders. As soon as he entered the room he shared with Rhea, she sat up from the bed, her eyes locking onto the cut on his brow. Her concern was immediate, and she moved toward him, her mouth opening to ask what had happened.

Before she could say anything, Jey stopped her with a quiet but firm statement. “We’re getting the rental in Pensacola or anywhere other than Orlando,” he said, his voice low and determined.

Rhea frowned but didn’t push further. She could see the exhaustion and frustration in his eyes. Without a word, she walked over to the vanity, rummaging through the drawer until she found some Neosporin and a small blemish bandage. Carefully, she returned to Jey and began tending to his wounds, dabbing the ointment on his eyebrow and applying the bandage with a soft, practiced touch. Her fingers lingered as she found other small cuts on his face, gently cleaning each one.

Jey watched her in silence, the tender care she gave him easing the tension he’d been holding onto since the encounter with Matt. When she was done, he cupped her face and kissed her deeply, pouring all of his emotions into that single moment. Rhea kissed him back, just as deeply, her hands resting on his chest as if trying to steady him.

Pulling back slightly, Jey looked into her eyes and said, “I’m gonna change, and we’re gonna have a good day with the family at the Science Center. I’m not letting anything ruin today.”

Rhea smiled softly, her worry still present but muted. She nodded in agreement. “Okay,” she said. “We’ll have a great day.”

Jey kissed her one more time before moving toward the dresser, already feeling lighter just knowing they were moving forward. He wasn’t going to let Matt—or anything else—take away from the time he had with his family today.

—

Rhea sat down on the bench, her body sinking into the cool metal as she watched the kids dart around the DinoDigs exhibit, their excited voices echoing through the room. She hadn’t expected to feel this tired, but the whirlwind of emotions, combined with the physical toll her body had taken recently, was catching up to her.

Jey came over and sat beside her, his eyes immediately scanning her face for any signs of discomfort. “You okay?” he asked softly, his hand resting on her knee.

Rhea took a sip of her water, feeling the cold liquid soothe her parched throat. She nodded but didn’t say much at first, letting the noise of the exhibit fill the silence between them. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she finally answered. “Just more tired than I thought I’d be.”

Jey glanced over at the kids, making sure they were still within sight, before turning his full attention back to her. “We’re almost done here. Just a few more things the kids wanna see, then we’ll head out,” he reassured her.

Rhea gave him a small smile, feeling a bit guilty. “I’ve gotten lazy, haven’t I? I need the exercise,” she joked lightly, though the fatigue in her voice was hard to miss.

Jey shook his head, chuckling softly. “You’re not lazy, baby. You’ve been through a lot. It’s okay to take it easy.”

Rhea leaned back on the bench, her eyes following Jaciyah as he pointed out something to Jeyce, both boys completely absorbed in their adventure. “I know,” she sighed. “I just hate feeling like this. Like I’m not... me.”

Jey slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a gentle side hug. “You’re still you, Rhea. You just need time. We’ll take it slow, like we always do. No rush.”

She rested her head on his shoulder, grateful for his steady presence. “Thanks,” she whispered. “For everything.”

Jey kissed the top of her head. “Anything for you.”

—

As Trinity switched cars with Jon, the kids and Jey all piled in the car. Rhea kissed Jey goodbye and then Trinity turned to Rhea with a smile, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Alright, girl, I’ve got a treat for you. How about a facial and massage at this amazing spa downtown? I promise, by the time we’re done, you’re gonna feel like a whole new woman."

Rhea managed a small smile, appreciating the offer. "You’re too good to me, Trin."

Trinity waved it off. "Please, you deserve it after everything. Plus, that place is heaven on earth. You’ll thank me after."

As they drove toward downtown Orlando, the soothing hum of the car ride gave Rhea a moment to reflect. The day had been emotionally exhausting, and now that they were away from the chaos of the Science Center, her thoughts started to catch up with her.

"Trin," Rhea said softly, her voice hesitant. "Can I... can I rant for a bit?"

Trinity glanced at her briefly with a smile. "Of course, babe. Go for it."

Rhea exhaled deeply, gathering her thoughts. "I’m so thankful for everything you and Jon have done for me. You’ve opened up your home, made me feel like family, but... I don’t know. I still feel like I’m intruding. Like I’m this fragile thing that’s just taking up space in your lives. And I hate that feeling."

Trinity’s expression softened as she listened, keeping her eyes on the road but fully present in the conversation. "Rhea, you’re not intruding at all. We love having you with us. And after everything you’ve been through... it's okay to feel fragile. You’re healing. But trust me, you’re stronger than you realize. It’s okay to lean on us, we want you to."

Rhea stared out the window, watching the city blur by. "I just don’t want to be a burden, you know? I’m trying to be strong, but sometimes it feels like I’m just breaking apart."

Trinity reached over, placing a hand on Rhea’s. "You’re not a burden. Not even close. We’ve got you. And you don’t always have to be strong, Rhea. It’s okay to let others carry the weight sometimes. That’s what family does."

Rhea blinked away the tears threatening to form. Trinity's words were comforting, but the feelings of guilt and fragility lingered. "Thank you, Trin," she whispered, squeezing her hand back.

Trinity smiled warmly. "Anytime. And trust me, after that spa treatment, you’re gonna feel a whole lot better. This is your time to reset. You’ve earned it."

Rhea nodded, feeling a little lighter, if only for a moment. "Yeah, maybe I do need that reset."

Trinity grinned as she pulled into the spa parking lot. "That’s the spirit. Now let’s get pampered!"

—

Jey and Jon made the drive to Titusville with ease, the road clear as they chatted about everything from the kids to plans for the weekend. The kids had been excited for the trip, especially since they’d get to spend some quality time with their grandpa, Solofa, but Jeyce had been clinging to Jey, reluctant to let him go.

As Jon said his goodbyes to his kids, Jey knelt down to Jeyce’s level. The little boy looked up at him with wide eyes, his lower lip jutting out in a pout.

"Dad, I wanna go with you and Rhea," Jeyce whined, glancing over at his older brother, Jaciyah, who rolled his eyes in response.

Jey smiled softly, placing a hand on Jeyce’s shoulder. "I know, little man, but I need you to stay here with Grandpa for a bit. It’s only for a few days, and then I’ll come get you and Jaciyah, and we’ll all go to Universal together on Friday, okay? You’re gonna have fun with Grandpa."

Jeyce wasn’t entirely convinced, but he trusted his dad. "Promise you’ll come back?" he asked, his voice small and uncertain.

"I promise," Jey said, pulling him in for a tight hug. "And we’re gonna have so much fun at Universal. I’ll be back before you know it."

Jeyce hugged his dad tightly, finally letting go with a sniffle. Jey stood and looked at Jaciyah, who just gave him a nod, his emotions more complicated. The older boy still held some resentment over everything that had happened, and Jey could see the pain in his eyes, even though Jaciyah wasn’t ready to talk about it.

Jey didn’t push. He just nodded back and said, "I’ll see you soon, alright?"

Jaciyah nodded again, arms crossed over his chest, still not ready to bridge the gap between them. Jey understood. He knew it would take time.

After saying their final goodbyes, Jey and Jon got back in the car, the mood more somber as they made their way back to the house. Jey glanced out the window, deep in thought, his mind drifting back to Rhea and what he wanted to do for her tonight.

"Kids, man," Jon said, breaking the silence as they drove. "They love us, but when stuff happens, it’s like they carry that weight with them."

Jey nodded. "Yeah, Jaciyah’s still not over everything. I don’t blame him, though. It’s been tough on all of us."

Jon glanced at him. "Give it time, Uce'. He’ll come around. He is only 17... that is the hardest time to go through something emotional. He's graduating next year, he already has a lot on the plate. You’re doing the best you can."

Jey appreciated Jon’s words but remained quiet. He was determined to make things right with his boys, with Rhea, with everyone. Tonight was just the start of trying to rebuild what had been fractured, one step at a time.

As they drove back, Jon broke the silence with a grin, glancing over at Jey. "So, what’s the plan, Uce’? What are you gonna do for Rhea tonight?"

Jey chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "I don’t know, man. What about you? Where are you takin' Trinity?"

Jon shrugged, the same uncertainty in his voice. "No clue. You’d think I’d have it figured out by now."

Jey raised an eyebrow. "You don’t know? You’ve been married how long?"

Jon laughed. "Hey, you don’t even know what you’re doing for Rhea either."

"Touché," Jey admitted.

Jon smirked, looking out the window before throwing another question at Jey. "Do you even know her favorite food… besides pizza?"

That’s when it hit Jey, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Pizza! That’s it!"

Jon raised an eyebrow, watching as Jey grew more animated. "Uh… what?"

"We’ll make pizza together! Like, from scratch!" Jey said, now fully invested in his new idea. He turned to Jon with a wide grin. "It’ll be fun, man. We’ll get all the ingredients, and we’ll make it together. Rhea will love it."

Jon rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help but smile at his brother’s enthusiasm. "Alright, bro, whatever makes you happy. Just save me a slice, okay?"

Jey laughed, nodding eagerly. "I got you. You’ll get the first slice."

Jon shook his head with a smirk. "You better make it good, then."

As they pulled into the driveway, Jey was buzzing with excitement. The idea of making pizza together with Rhea felt perfect—simple, fun, and something that would make her smile. He was determined to make it a special night, and this was the first step.

[opabiniasarecool]

LU Breakfast club AU idea

As said in a recent post, my autistic ass is going nuts over breakfast club AUs at the moment, so I thought I could do a Linked Universe one. Idk if I will do anything beyond this post, but still :)

(Ig this could also be a highschool au if you want it to be that way. Also it won't follow too much of the breakfast club, just the core concept bc it's fun)

Wind: Freshman. Got caught snatching some stuff. Having the time of his life with the older grades in detention.

Wild: Didn't get caught doing anything. He kinda just snuck in to see if he could. Well known for pulling off strange stunts like that. Knew Twilight before detention, but didn't pay him much mind. Hung out with Warriors a tiny bit.

Legend: Mouthed off to some authorities. Nothing new to him, and has been in detention plenty of times before this. Tends to use magic for stupid little stunts like stealing screws. Will antagonize anybody and everybody.

Warriors: Beat up a rather popular girl (it's later learned she attempted to S/A him, but unfortunately the principal took her side) Head of a sports team (I haven't decided which one) He ends up in a lot of arguments with Legend. Wild isn't registered on his sports team, he'll just kinda show up randomly before disappearing, hence why Wars knows him.

Update: I think I may have Warriors fence

Hyrule: Got caught bringing a dagger to school. Refused to answer why. Before then he wasn't well known and just did his own thing. Enjoyed messing around with Wild.

Sky: Super sweet and soft kid. Well liked by the teachers. However, Dark seems a little wary of him. Begging the question: What in Hylia's name did he do? (It later becomes an ever concerning guessing game between the rest of the group, seriously, what did this kid do???)

Dark Link: The vice principal because why not? Overall just as big of a jerk as in the film.

Time, Twilight and Four: Not sure what I want to do with them just yet. Time may fill in a similar (but slightly more affectionate) role of the janitor.

Notes: I still want there to be magic despite it "Technically" being a modern AU. I just think it would be fun if Four ends up splitting in the hallway, while Shadow is trying to wrangle him but without fail "Four" is still in the hallway. Also imagine what a bored Wild in detention with a Sheakia Slate could get up to lol.

[tgirljoker]

15 minutes into this blunt and i burst into tears after thinking about my father for 3 seconds

[britneyshakespeare]

i have been working with kids for four years and i had to write my first ever note just now about a seventh grade boy being inappropriate towards me. i don't know what the hell this could possibly lead to or what. he was trying to feel my legs repeatedly to the point where i had to stop sitting next to him (and i was subbing for his one-to-one para!!!). he's got high support needs. in that kind of job, you're supposed to sit next to them all day and look over their work.

the teacher whose classroom this was happening in could also tell something was wrong. the whole class was acting kinda crazy because it was the day before school vacation week and there was another class coming in to share projects. so like, he was swamped with keeping order already. but we were sitting two feet away from his podium at the front of the room. the kid was giving him and me a hard time when he wouldn't take out his chromebook as he was instructed. and then when he did take out his chromebook, he immediately, for some reason, places it on my lap. he had been ogling my legs the whole time. he puts his computer ON MY LAP. and i'm just like, stunned, because what the hell? can you not keep it on your own lap, for some reason? i don't even know what to say, i just hold it a little above my lap while i'm thinking why on earth would this be happening? he would NOT do this to his regular para if she were here, would he? this can't be normal.

and the teacher sees this and within a minute places a stool in front of the kid for him to put his laptop on. and i'm like. oh ok. yeah. he notices exactly what's happening and that that's not appropriate. and then when the other class comes in to share projects he tells me "miss b——, you don't actually have to sit next to c—— this whole period if you don't want to." and he grabs me a chair for me to go sit with the other paras in the back opposite corner of the room. like he KNEW. and thank you mr. d—— for recognizing that because i was just kind of shocked and didn't know if i was overreacting in my head to all of this.

when there's a point in the class where the kids are discussing stuff, i privately mention what's happened to the para who's sitting closest to me. and she says that the thing about him calling me pretty is something he's been known to do, but the fact that he kept trying to touch my legs is new behavior. and that's a completely different class of behavior. i was telling him NO, don't do that, and he kept doing it. and the fact that he was calling me pretty repeatedly, even when i was giving him instructions that he wasn't taking. and this is the second to last class before the end of the day, so she says she'll take a walk with him before learning center and talk to him about it, and i'm grateful for that. she does. the kid apologizes to me as soon as i come into learning center. but like. WHAT the hell.

i'm STILL like what the hell. this is unfathomable to me. the other adults who i told about this or who witnessed it were supportive of me. but. what to do??? i wrote a long note to his regular para about this, because i knew she was going to hear about it at least from the first para i told. the second para i told about it after school had a kind of... i'm not gonna say enabling reaction, but i suppose since it had already been "taken care of" (or at least, he had been spoken to and apologized) she didn't really have much to add in the way of discipline. i told her what happened after school and she was just like... a little bit, laughing? like oh, yup, that dog. she at the very least confirmed he KNEW what he was doing, that that was not an accident. she said to me "i had a feeling he was going to develop a crush on you" (me and these other paras were together for most of the beginning of the day too). but it's like. it's not about that.

i have worked with children for FOUR years. children have had crushes on me before; i'm quite unfazed by it. boys from the ages of 5-to-15 have told me i'm so pretty before and asked me to marry them. i've never had them feeling up my legs before. i've never had them making me physically uncomfortable. it's NOT about this seventh grader having a crush on the pretty substitute. he is NOT unusual for that, at all. but i've never had a boy of any age or education level repeatedly touching my knees and thighs. THAT is problem behavior!!!

because what if i wasn't assertive enough with him to tell him to stop? what if i was a girl his age? worse, what if i was an adult who encouraged this behavior? i don't come to the middle school to be a seductress. i had no intention in putting on a pair of tights and a skirt this morning of being viewed as an attractive object, especially not by a pubescent boy. what if i did though? what if his interpretation of me wasn't so incorrect and offensive? what if i let him keep touching me inappropriately and saying flirtatious things to me? me, an adult in my mid-twenties, towards a middle school boy?

in no world would that be ok. if i had been feeling up and overly-complimenting a CHILD at my place of work, holy shit would there be reports about me. so a child acting that way could never be ok either. if it'd be firable for me to be reciprocating that action, then that action should not be happening to me. ever. and that child should never repeat that action again to any other adult again.

like i am simply not there to be treated as an attractive young woman. i put on a skirt that shows too much knee and get paired with a boy, though, and that's apparently just a natural consequence. hooo-ly shit. like i don't know what to do. first of all, the more time passes since this has happened, the more i am just unable to stop thinking about it. i wasn't "hurt" or too emotional in the moment but i'm just still processing it and it gets worse. i'm just more and more disgusted.

i don't know what i expect to come out of this, or the email i sent to his regular para. like, am i gonna have to attend a fucking meeting? what is the precedent that this sets for him? WHY do i feel BAD for him about this? well, because he's a child, of course. a child who has done wrong he may not be able to understand. but he knows WHAT he did. he just doesn't know WHY it was wrong.

and i couldn't even say something to him that was like, "well, how would you like it if i was touching you like this?" because young boys do not understand how inappropriate it'd be. i'm sure this kid thought he was gonna get away with what he was doing at the very least. but probably not unlikely he (being a child with no concept of how wrong it'd be) thought he could get some sort of "positive" attention for treating me like this. either way he was simply doing what he wanted to do, with no perspective of how it would make me feel or that it could be classified as harassment. teenage boys think it'd be awesome if the older attractive woman would reciprocate their affections. they're wrong. i, as the older attractive woman of his affection, cannot be the one to convince him of that, though.

i don't know. i don't know. like it's just so not ok. but if i didn't tell another adult about this, he would've gotten away with it. he would probably do it again. and him being in trouble for it is not the same as him understanding that it was wrong. unless someone has a REAL talk with him about inappropriate attention and consent, it's not unlikely that he'll just repeat the behavior in a setting where he thinks he won't be caught or told on. THAT'S the problem. me, i could just never have to be this boy's para again. in my email, i didn't say that i would never be ok working with or around him ever again. he already knows i didn't like it and i'm not afraid to tell on him; as far as that lesson applies to me, individually, i think he's become too ashamed to repeat that.

i don't know. i don't know. i very much expressed that i, i guess, "forgave" him in the email that i wrote. i clarified that i was writing it for the sake of having it on the record. i think that could potentially be very important for the purposes of preventing further similar or escalating behavior from him in the future. i don't want him to be in trouble. i don't think i will be blamed for this, especially not with how promptly i acted, although i don't know to what extent this will be framed as me thinking i'm a "victim." i'm not... i don't feel victimized. i feel disgusted. i feel afraid for the sake of what could happen to or with him in the future, if he thinks behavior like his towards me today is ok.

i feel like if i end up having to further respond to this, this will be made about me. in a way it kind of was. is? in the moment it was happening, it was certainly about me. because i was the one this boy was giving all this unwanted attention to. but to make the consequences of this about me and to involve me any further, i also don't want. because i said what i said already, i don't care if a student has a crush on me. this isn't about me being the pretty substitute. i'm the pretty substitute all the time, to tons of people. that's not really something i've been concerned about up until now.

but do i have to reexplain my personal embarrassment? that i was wearing a skirt? that he was ogling my legs? really? what more do i have to gain from sharing that, other than having the adults at my place of work confirm or deny me in their heads as the pretty substitute? i don't know. perhaps that's REALLY overthinking it. but i don't want to be the substitute that caused a problem for this special ed kid. i don't wanna be the reason that he can't be around me anymore, the person people think of when they're monitoring how he's acting around girls and young women. i DON'T want to be the one people think of when they think of his past misbehavior. i'm NOT here for that.

that's just fucking humiliating. and in this being a thing that could follow him, i have to be ogled and touched over and over again in people's minds for this to be taken seriously. but for this to be swept under the rug would be even worse, no? i don't know. i hate this. the principal is a nice guy; i wouldn't be surprised if he and/or people from the special ed department reached out to me sympathetically about this. but i don't wanna be reached out to. i don't wanna have ppl i work with tell me "sorry that kid was just so attracted to you he couldn't help himself" like come on. if the kid himself doesn't change then i don't really care to remember this incident. and no one reaching out to me and saying they've talked to this kid will actually prove to me he understands. this is the kind of inappropriate behavior it takes years for people to understand why it was wrong, especially a child who has no idea. i mean come on.

[lunaticamic]

find yourself a sports nerd. really

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU — sometimes your boyfriend’s want for you just seems to be insatiable.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! f!reader, mating press, breeding, biting, he loses control of his technique a teeny tiny bit at the end, im going absolutely insane. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! hiii this is a lil mix of my gojo thoughts over the past few months, my sanity is slipping as u can tell <3

the way gojo satoru was in bed was exactly how he was in real life, absolutely merciless when he wanted to be, you realise with the dizzy haze in your mind and the pillow he’s shoved under your hips. there’s a pleasurable burn in your thighs where he’s got them folded into you, your ankles dangling by his ears as his hips press into your ass and the way he looks over you is needy, and a little wild.

but he only really got like this on on a few occasions, like after a gruelling mission, a boring mountain of paperwork or maybe you’d been teasing him. sometimes he’s just consumed by the idea of you carrying his kids— he’s so incredibly insatiable.

“you feel me right here, sweet thing, hm?” the snowy haired man above you hisses with a languid roll of his hips, deliberately pressing into the sweet spots inside of you that he always seems to be able to find so easily. but you can barely breathe, nevermind answer with how full you feel — your warm walls twitching around his heavy shaft before he’s giving you a few more thrusts.

“don’t hold out on me, it feels good, right?” gojo goads, chuckles when the next particularly deep kiss of his cock along your insides has your lips parting to moan, eyes squeezing shut as you wriggle underneath him.

“‘ts too deep, satoru! fuck—“ you manage, voice breaking under the weight of your own arousal but shit— he loves you like this. pliant and pretty and all his. you’re basically begging for him to give you his soul, to pour it into your body and your bones until you’re twitching— his stamina was limitless after all, an endless pool of energy.

“oh? but i’m sure you can take more..” gojo’s words are a low drawl as he curls over your folded figure, making your muscles scream for some sort of relief but he still manages to give you more. he begins a pace that’s so deep, so animalistic that you feel like you could black out with the way the pleasure rips through you, making your body clap against his as his balls smack loudly against your ass and suddenly he’s even deeper.

“see, i knew it.” it’s smug despite the the trembling undercurrent to his tone, breaking under the weight of his own arousal as his voice takes an octave higher. but you’re doing so well for him, your eyes are rolled back— lips parted and you’re basically begging for him to go harder when he leans into press his lips against yours, pushing his name between your lips as your hands grab at him for any sort of relief.

“almost there, right?” gojo groans against you with the next quiver of your walls; the next particularly heavy thrust makes your thighs tremble and he’s so deep it almost hurts, making something spark and burn along your inside as he fucks you into the mattress like a wild animal.

you whimper, barely— it’s a desperately pathetic little sound, wound up tight and it makes him pull away to look at you, crystalline eyes cloudy with lust before his lips are stretching into a smirk.

“oh, more?” gojo’s head cocks to the side and you know you’re done for when his pace picks up, every heavy thrust is driven by the muscles in his body and your pussy squelches loudly with every wet connection of his hips.

“oh, i’ll give you more, baby. so greedy f’ me, hm?” despite his teasing, he’s babbling— sweat beading along his skin as the snowy peaks of his hair frame his flushed features and fuck, the pretty sight above you only makes you feel even better. you’re so high off his desperation, every muscle in your body screams under his but the nerves in your body cry even louder with how good you feel— with how much your body craves him.

“‘ts so tight, you milkin’ me, sweet girl? how many you want, huh? give you as many as you need. wanna see you swollen f’ me, you want that, mhm?” gojo’s barely coherent but his words only make you squeeze around him tighter— a silent little invitation as every thrust has you crying more, more, more! satoru, want your cum—please! punched out little gasps and cries as he digs the orgasm out of you.

“oh, you’ll look so pretty f’ me—f-fuck!” his huge body is looming over yours, pressing you into the mattress and the pillows beneath you. your thighs are flush against his abdomen and chest, and your lungs feel like they quake on every exhale as your lips part to moan. he presses himself into you— face nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he grazes his teeth along the skin there, headboard screeching loudly in time with every smack of his hips.

“‘toru, please please please—‘m g’nna,” you tremble as you shake beneath gojo, thighs tensing tight against his body and he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you as he smirks against your skin. your orgasm hits you so suddenly, so hard and good that your toes curl where they hang over his shoulders, your body stiffening beneath him and the first milking compression of your pussy makes his pace stutter, hugs him so tight he can’t help but bite so hard into the sensitive skin of your neck he draws blood.

“should see h-how pretty you look like this. tell me ‘ts all mine, y’ gonna make me a daddy, yeah? g’nna fill you up so good. oh, this pussy’s made f’ me, ain’t it?”

his body trembles as he pulls back slightly to watch your cream pool around the base of his cock, your slick smeared along his skin and your walls still throb with every unforgiving push of his hips. your orgasm feels like it stretches on forever as you gasp out broken yeah, yours, love you so much ‘toru, waves rolling through your body with the heat you feel pour and sting along your nerves. it only takes a few more clapping thrusts and your choked confessions before hes kissing you, just as he likes as his lips curl into you.

gojo cums hard, thick and heavy inside of you when he feels your tongue push against his, swallowing both of your groans into the kiss as he pushes his load into your puffy cunt. you’re both so lost in bliss, so unaware of the electricity across your boyfriends skin and the uncomfortable pressure that seems to suddenly weigh down on your intertwined bodies.

the bedroom light flickers but you don’t notice, he’s slurring curses against your lips as he almost pins your thighs to your chest completely, the air between you seems tighter— atoms trembling in the finate space. but he’s continuing to fuck into your sensitive pussy with tiny little thrusts you don’t notice the creek of your furniture as it twitches out of place— like it’s being pulled towards you both. the small flickers of purple fizzle out when you’re both spent and he’s collapsing on top of you with a low, breathy chuckle, making you whine with the cramp you feel in your body.

“‘toru! you’re heavy.” you grumble, voice worn and scratchy but it doesn’t move gojo as he cuddles deeper into you, leaving sweet little kisses along your skin with obnoxious kissy noises— a stark contrast to how filthy he was being a second ago.

you’re both breathing deep as you give up trying to escape from underneath him, opting to press your fingers through his damp hair instead before he finally moves. he pulls back, enough for his cock to push his cum out of your pussy as he does, squelching and dripping into the mattress beneath you both as you jolt slightly. “careful, ‘ts messy, ‘toru.”

gojo whistles lowly before he looks at you again, one of your legs still haphazardly thrown over his shoulder before he’s placing a sweet kiss to your ankle, then following it up with a painfully languid, experimental thrust as his crystalline eyes focus on the mess he’s made of you.

“come on, sweet girl. you’re not nearly full enough f’ me yet.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[elliewithcellie]

Girl, Interrupted

summary: Eddie crashes by your home when you least expected, but everything happens for a reason, right?

wc: 1.8k

cw: PURE SMUT (MDNI 18+), basically no plot, friends to fwb?, oral (f receiving), Eddie is a tease, fairly bold reader lol, fingering, talk of p in v sex, hair pulling, orgasms idk let me know what else

a/n: my bestie bought me slutty pajamas for my birthday, and since I'm a hypothetical whore, this has been on my mind nonstop. Finally took a break from my spn series to write this down. This is the filthiest thing I've written to date but definitely short and sweet

Eddie’s jaw fell slack as the door opened before him. He knew he shouldn’t have shown up to your place uninvited. Sure, you were his best friend, and of course, you had said he could come over whenever, but that never truly meant unannounced. He was already kicking himself for showing up as late as he did when you opened the door.

Your oh so short pajama shorts were the first thing that caught his eye, how your thighs spilled out beneath them, the cotton begging for relief. His eyes trailed higher to your tank top one size too small. The hem rested just above your midriff, the outline of your hips more prominent than he had ever seen. Your face was flush, pinks and reds lining your cheeks. He fought the urge to pinch himself, scared that he was dreaming, scared that he’d wake up to the absence of you and very real feelings emerging.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” you asked, your arms crossing over your chest. “I thought you had a date.”

Date, what date? Eddie’s mind was going numb. His brain was flatlining at the mere sight of you, more exposed to him than he’d ever seen you. Fight or flight kicked in, debating on whether to say something or just turn around and leave. He was almost sure he was not supposed to see you in this state.

“I—uhh—it didn’t go well, so I cut it short. But I know you love the place, so I figured I’d bring over the leftovers.”

“Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

Eddie hesitated, scared to ask, but his interest piqued. “Is someone—you’re alone right now, right?”

Your eyebrows pinched together. You exhaled a dry laugh. “Please, I’m always alone. Come in. Tell me about your date.”

You ushered Eddie inside and settled into your couch. You pulled a blanket over you, and Eddie released a sigh. He couldn’t believe the hold you suddenly had on him. It was like he was in high school again, ready to combust at the sight of a shoulder. At least with your legs covered, he was less inclined to think about spreading them.

“Was it really that bad?” you asked, drawing Eddie from his thoughts.

“She was just so boring,” Eddie complained. “Like, there’s nothing wrong with her, but it was like we were from different planets! She didn’t know Metallica! How am I supposed to bond with someone when there’s nothing to relate to?”

“Did you think of showing her?”

“Showing her what?”

“Metallica!” you laughed. “Wouldn’t that be kind of romantic, you know, to introduce that to her? Maybe tell her you’re in a band? It’d be like showing her a whole new world. And maybe you’d get a groupie out of it.”

Eddie swatted at the air. “It’s not worth it. We were both bored. And it was clear she wasn’t looking to rock with a guitarist.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.���

“You didn’t meet her. She’s pristine, a Chrissy Cunningham type. Meant to be with a lawyer or some shit.”

You leaned in closer to Eddie, your blanket sliding down your thighs. “Those are the girls who fantasize about guys like you the most. Those girls on the straight and narrow, the ones who seemed destined to be sweet stay-at-home moms or perfect career women, those are the ones who dream of just one night doing something they never thought they could. Something so wild that when they’re taking their kids to soccer practice, or their ‘perfect husband’ is asleep on the recliner while they're doing the dishes, they can think back to that wild night when they fucked a rockstar.”

Eddie’s lip trembled as chills coursed through his body. You leaned back against the couch and shrugged like what you said was nothing. You had to be on something, he decided. Never had you been so frank when the topic of sex came up. Your face was still flushed with color, and you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position on the couch, shifting yourself from one side to the other to no specific rhythm. Heat radiated off of you, though you weren’t known to be the furnace between the two of you. Something struck Eddie as so foreign but so familiar as he took you in.

“Would you fuck a rockstar?” Eddie found himself saying.

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Do I seem like one of those straight-and-narrow girls to you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eddie said, a newfound confidence overtaking him. “You came up with that way too fast to act like you don’t think of it, too. So, would you fuck a rockstar?”

You bit your lip and shifted in your seat. You huffed into the couch. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Why so shy all of a sudden?” Eddie asked, egging you on. “You’ve been squirming since I got here, sweetheart. Is something on your mind?”

Your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Tonight is not the night to ask me that.”

“Why is that?” Eddie chuckled. “Were you in the middle of something? Was something left unfinished when I so rudely interrupted? And now all you can think about is the ache between your legs?”

You shuddered at his words. “Eddie,” you said, your voice shaking.

“I could help you.” Eddie leaned closer, his words almost a whisper. “Because I may not be a rockstar, but I’m sure I could give you the night of your life.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t tease me. It’s not funny.”

“No one’s laughing.” Eddie pulled the blanket back, his hands resting on your thighs. Your legs slightly opened on instinct. “What kind of friend would I be, huh? If I didn’t at least offer?”

Eddie didn’t know where this bravado came from, but he didn’t care. All he knew was the longer you looked at him like that, the harder he got.

You grabbed him by his shirt and forced his lips on yours. Nothing soft or sweet came from your lips. You were needy and desperate, clinging to him like he was the air in your lungs.

The urgency shocked Eddie, but he quickly found your rhythm. He smirked against your lips as he pulled his jacket off. His hands snaked from your thighs to your hips to your ass, lifting you onto his lap. You groaned into his mouth as he rolled you against him.

He was sure he was dreaming now. Only there did he ever picture you above him, grinding your hips into his. Only there did he imagine you moaning from his touch. But never were his dreams this vivid, this real, this fucking good.

He pulled you from him and pushed you back onto the couch. You whined at the loss of contact. He’d never seen your eyes so dark, so lustful, so hungry for him.

He slid down to the floor onto his knees and pulled you to the edge of the couch. “You still want my help, sweetheart?”

You nodded emphatically.

“I need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“Please help me, Eddie. I need you. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

You lifted yourself up as Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. Eddie’s cock jumped at the sight of you. He bit his lip to maintain what little composure he had left.

“Aww, your poor little pussy’s just as needy as you, isn’t she?” He spread your knees apart, the cold metal on his fingers sending chills up your spine. The throbbing between your legs only intensified, a small whimper escaping your lips.

Eddie couldn’t wait any longer. There was no time for teasing, no time to explore. You needed him, and he was going to deliver.

He dove into your aching pussy like a man starved. You jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair. His tongue worked overtime, kitten-licking your clit before diving in for more.

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he said, smiling against you. You moaned in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him closer.

Your sounds turned him on even more, searching for his own release as he rubbed himself against the couch. His mind was in a daze, in utter disbelief that anyone could look so perfect for him with your legs spread and your back arched. Your chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his tongue, and your lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Oh, how Eddie wanted to feel your lips around his cock. How you’d sink down on him, your perfect innocent mouth being completely sinful just for him.

He placed a finger at your entrance and pumped in and out, his thumb now circling your clit. Your head fell back. “God, yes, Eddie. Just like that.”

“I need you to do something for me, baby,” Eddie said as he added a second finger.

“Wha—what’s that?” you asked, breathless.

“I need you to tell me what you think of when you get off. Tell me what you were thinking of before I showed up at your door.”

“I—I oh god,” you shouted as Eddie’s lips found your clit. “I—I thought about you on your fucking date.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned into your pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

“I pictured you fucking her from behind, her skirt hiked up to her hips, her panties to the side as you fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror.”

“Fucking C—Christ,” Eddie stuttered, his hips rutting into the couch faster. “Keep going.”

“Then it was me you were fucking. You grabbed me by the hair, so I could watch what you were doing to me,” you said, your voice shaking with every word. “Eddie, please. I’m close. Please.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it. Tell me what I was doing to you.” He was past dreaming at this point. He was sure this was heaven. Hearing your words had him reeling. He didn’t want to stop, didn't know how to stop. He just knew he needed to see you come.

Your lip trembled. “Your hands were all over me, playing with my tits, your lips on my neck, and—and your big cock pounding into me over and oh-ver and—and Fuck! Eddie, don’t stop! Please, please, please!”

Your orgasm crashed down on you, expletives and Eddie’s name on your lips. Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of you like a madman as he lapped up your cum.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” he moaned against you.

You pushed his head off of you and caught your breath. Eddie took a breath, too, leaning back against his heels. You pulled him back up to you and kissed him, tasting yourself on your lips.

“That… was so hot,” Eddie said, releasing a breath.

“Can it be my turn to help you?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Eddie’s cheeks rouged slightly, his eyes trailing to the growing wet spot on his jeans. “I had a turn already,” he said, guilt painting his words. He leaned in toward you, a devilish smirk joining his features. “But I’m not done with you. Not yet.”

[yuwuta]

RODEO STATION, 1 — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO 

A collection of you and Megumi, through the years, through Gojo’s eyes. 

content, warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, sort of canon-adjacent, satoru adopts megumi and tsumiki, reader has a cursed technique but it’s not mentioned in depth here, really just you and megumi falling in love and gojo watching

word count: 1.1k

part i: first years, jujutsu tech. fits in the timeline around when nobara first joins the class

When Satoru first finds him, Megumi has two conditions. First, that Tsumiki would be kept safe and happy, and far away from the Zenin clan if they weren’t going to be good to her—safe and far away from all jujutsu society if Gojo could help it; and that she would never have to worry about feeding herself or Megumi ever again. Satoru agreed right away, he would have done that without the request. 

For his second condition, an eight year old Megumi looked Satoru straight in the eye and told him that he would absolutely not be separated from you. Satoru thought it was cute, sweet, in the bratty, and naive but determined kind of way that seemed to be everything that kid stood for, and Satoru couldn’t fault him for it. Megumi’s evident childlike adoration of you aside, Satoru saw potential in you, too, so he accepted Megumi’s conditions, happy to welcome the two of you to the world of sorcery. 

It’s not until a week before you both start at Jujutsu Tech, that Satoru really asks Megumi why he wants you here (never mind the fact that you had already also made up your mind about being a sorcerer, and if there is anything that Satoru has learned about you in the past decade, it’s that: one, you have the magical ability to make Megumi do anything you say; and two, you’re incredible persuasive and very stubborn). Megumi doesn’t look him in the eye when he answers, fidgeting with his melting ice cream instead when he says, “Well, she saved my life.” 

Satoru doesn’t tease when he hears this, only digging his spoon in for a scoop of Megumi’s toffee butter, smiling to himself when the cold hits his tongue, because he’d heard the message loud and clear: Megumi believes he owes you his life, and to keep yours protected, he wants you by his side.

Satoru quickly learns that Megumi truly has his work cut out for him as he watches you burst through a top-floor window of a high-rise building, falling carelessly with the object of your mission—a special-grade cursed object—clutched in your grasp. Second later, there’s a loud explosion, as the ugly head of a large cursed falls limp in the hole in the broken glass that you’d left behind. Satoru chuckles when he sees you smile, and the faint cheer of weeeeeeeee as you fall. He knew you were wild and stubborn by the way you bossed Megumi around without a care, but seeing you in action proved that you were also in your own league of crazy, a fantastic sorceress in the making. 

To his left, Yuuji gapes wildly as he looks up, shielding his eyes with his hand, and then flinching back when Nobara bursts through the ground floor door, not without a nail going flying into the curse that had been chasing her. She looks angry, then wide eyed, then up to where Yuuji and Megumi were also staring and starts squealing alongside him. 

“Gojo-sensei, what are you standing there smiling about—do something!” Nobara shouts, pointing an accusatory finger up in the air at your flying body. 

Yuuji gasps again, like he’d just figured out the consequence of you falling from a building, spewing on his own cries, “Hey, seriously, what the hell are we doing—she can’t fly,” he shouts, turning to shake his sensei, then pausing, “Wait, Fushiguro, can she fly? You know her.” 

“Idiot,” Nobara spits, “If she could fly then she’d be flying, not falling.”

“Then why aren’t we doing any—you know what, I think I can catch her,” Yuuji boasts, rolling up his sleeves, prepared to position himself underneath your descending body, and that’s when Satoru steps in, extending an arm in front of his students. 

“You all worry too much,” he smiles, lifting his blindfold just enough to look the pair in the eye, and tilt his head up slightly, “Besides, Megumi’s handled it.” 

Three heads turn back up to the sky, where you’re no longer in freefall, instead have had your shoulders snatched by Nue’s talons. You’ve still got that wild smile on your face, wider now as you descend much more elegantly via Megumi’s shikigami. Nobara and Yuuji wince as Nue’s wings flap widely when you’re set on the ground. You shift the box with the cursed object to one hand, reaching your free one around to pet the bird’s feathers. It crows happily, and Satoru snickers, much to Megumi’s dismay. You always did treat his shikigami like pets. 

“Hey, you’re okay!” Yuuji cheers, eyes sparkling, “What’s in the box? A sword—actually, I don’t want to know. If it’s another finger, keep it away from me.” 

“Hand it here,” Nobara demands. You’re happy to hand over the box and have another hand available for petting Nue. 

Satoru watches fondly as Yuuji and Nobara fuss over the box. They should probably exercise more caution, but he’s there, so the worst can’t happen. Meanwhile, you step closer to Megumi with Nue fluttering behind you. 

“You’re the one who told me there would be no need to get involved,” Megumi says, voice soft, hands falling comfortably at his side. 

“I said that you wouldn’t have to get involved with the curses,” you correct, standing on your tiptoes to nuzzles your head into the bird’s feathers, “I said nothing about not getting involved with me.” 

Satoru does his best not to choke out a loud laugh as Megumi’s face becomes increasingly pink when you reach forward to pinch his cheeks, his grumbling drowned in the sound of Yuuji and Nobara’s bickering. Satory sighs, content. He cares for all his students, but there’s a certain weight lifted on his shoulders knowing that when it came to you, there was truly nothing to worry about—Megumi would always be there for you. Honestly, he thinks Megumi might fight him to protect you if it came down to it. 

That thought does bring an audible chuckle to his lips, Megumi’s pinched expression calling to him, “What are you laughing about?” 

To which Satoru only hums, sticking his hands in his pockets. Megumi’s eyebrows furrow deeper, but it’s quickly dissolved when you catch his attention again, saying your farewells to Nue before giving Megumi the okay to let him recede into his shadows. 

“Oh, nothing,” Satoru chirps, turning to lead the group back to Ichiji’s car, “Come on, who’s still up for revolving sushi!”  

Cheers follow him as the veil dispels. You question Yuuji about whether or not you think the restaurant will have grilled eel, and Nobara pretends to throw up, arguing that eel is the worst, that you all should stick to hand rolls instead. Megumi stays quiet, walking on your outside, and humming along with all of your suggestions, and Satoru can’t help but wonder whether or not you knew that Nue had been out from the moment you’d stepped in the building. 

Honestly, he thinks Megumi might win that fight—might win any fight if it meant being with you.

[katsukistofu]

peaches (you're the cream of the crop)

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ touya todoroki x fem reader. fluff. slightly suggestive. cursing. ⭑ a series of grocery trips after touya is discharged from the hospital gives you both a sense of normalcy you never thought you’d be able to have again.

monday

“put it back.” he wrinkles his nose as you continue to pick out tomatoes from the neat stack in front of you. “i said put it back.”

you stick your tongue out and tie up the bag after you put the last tomato in, dropping it in the cart he was pushing.

“ew.”

you giggle, he was acting like a little kid.

“touyaaa, you have to eat your veggies to grow big and strong.”

“bullshit. all the brat eats is soba and he’s almost taller than me now.” he grumbles. “and tomatoes are fruits.”

“tastes like a veggie.” your hip gently bumps into his after you walk back to him from the vegetables. “and maybe shoto’s taller than you ‘cause he actually listens to me.”

he rolls his eyes at that, and hesitantly reaches for your hand.

he’s still not used to being with you like this, alone, despite knowing you stayed by his side through countless hospital visits he wished he was conscious for.

but it’s okay because you’re here now, soft skin soothing against his rough, charred flesh. you don’t seem to mind though, not even the fact that he tends to holds you a little more tightly than he used to.

touya doesn’t let go of your hand. not once. not when you went to get a napa cabbage, or when you inspected the peaches on sale for any mushy spots.

or even when he lets you drag him to a stand in the freezer aisle where a nice store employee offers you two samples of gyoza, which was surprisingly good considering it was from a brand you’ve never heard of.

you feed touya his share, his eyes wide as he waits for you to finish blowing on it for him before holding it in front of his lips to eat.

not until you ask “can you go get more bags for me touya?” in that soft voice of yours that turns his knees to jelly, does he even consider the idea of releasing you from his grasp. you ran out when you were getting green onions.

turquoise eyes flicker to you, a hint of disappointment in them. he really doesn’t want to let go.

with a quick glance around, it’s obvious the supermarket was practically empty. which made sense, the two of you purposely chose to come on a monday morning.

perfect.

you use the handle of the cart to push yourself on your tippy toes, taking the opportunity to give him a soft kiss on the cheek.

“please?”

he blinks rapidly, ducking his head down as he barely bites back a smile. you had him wrapped around your little finger and you didn’t even know it sometimes.

he’s always been weak for you.

“‘kay. be right back.” and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your throat, knowing he means it this time.

from now on, he’ll always come back to you. to home.

he quickly returns from his trip to the dispenser roll of plastic bags near the checkout line and promptly dumps them in the cart.

“i changed my mind.” he says as he swiftly slips behind you to hug your waist, catching you in the middle of putting a packet of tofu skin in the nearly full cart. a soft weight can be felt on your hair as his chin rests on your head.

you smile, squeezing his forearms. “about what?”

“….i guess i’ll eat tomatoes.”

“awww, for me?”

“only for you.”

friday

— wild geraniums are rich in flower symbolism. they are associated with love, peace, joy, health, fertility, and spirituality.

it was a warm friday afternoon the next time you and touya go shopping.

the shizuoka prefecture had reached a new high today for the month, a sweltering thirty four degrees, and by the time you two get there you’re sweating bullets.

the cold air conditioning blasts you in the face, cooling your sweat as you’re met with the sight of mothers and elderly women bustling around, carts laden with fresh produce to last the next few weeks by cooking warm meals for their families.

he sighs next to you as the both of you stand in silence, enjoying the breeze for just moment longer.

touya grabs a basket for you, since you’re only planning to grab a few things for shoto anyway. a light pink sticky note rests on the palm of your hand, and he watches as you peer at the youngest’s neat handwriting.

a packet of soba noodles, a new pocky flavor, mousse matcha, that he wanted to try with his friends, and a bottle of green tea.

the two of you are in the snack aisle when he texts, touya too busy examining the ingredients of a box of choco-pie to notice you taking your phone out.

shoto [08:51]

Sorry for the late notice, can you please pick up a potted flower?

It’s for mom.

But don’t let Touya-nii pick.

It’s your choice that I trust.

you giggle at his remark, while your fingers fumble for the pen you know is somewhere.

thankfully, touya saves you by magically pulling it out from the depths of your bag, and places it in the palm of your hand.

you whisper a quick thanks and kiss his cheek. his face goes hot the moment you pull away to scribble on the list in your hand.

‘stop by the plant nursery’ is added to your sticky. it was only a block away on the way back to the todoroki house, so touya and you could just swing by really quick after getting shoto’s stuff. due to lack of a hard surface to write on, your writing was kind of messy.

maybe you should’ve asked touya if you could use his chest, but you doubt the grandmas in the aisle over would approve.

a new notification pops up on your screen.

natsuo [09:03]

helloo my favorite future sister-in-law

can u pick up some fish for sashimi pls

pls pls i got an A on my presentation today

touya leans over your shoulder to read the text and fakes a gag. he never liked fish, and eating it raw? no way in hell.

between the four of them inheriting most of their mother’s likeness (fuck whatever his dad’s weak ass excuse for genes was), you’d think they’d also gain her love of warm dishes like oden and niku-jaga.

as the eldest, of course it was his duty to set things straight and comment on his sibling’s questionable tastes.

you [09:04]

ew

you [09:04]

hot soba is better

mission accomplished, touya proudly hands your phone back to you. you bite back a laugh as you read his texts.

how eloquent of him.

natsuo [09:05]

????????

natsuo [09:05]

BITCH

I KNOW THATS YOU TOUYA

you roll your eyes at the two’s antics and grab your boyfriends hand, leading him to the seafood section.

a wide array of fish was displayed before you, and you take a picture of the ones labeled for sashimi.

you [09:10]

which one? :)

natsuo [09:11]

the salmon !!!!!

you [09:12]

ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆

natsuo [09:13]

THANK USOMHCH

I LOV YOU

MORE THANTOUYA

another notification appears as you quickly swipe out of natsuo’s texts before your boyfriend can throw your phone across the supermarket.

fuyumi [09:26]

are you guys at the mart right now?

you [09:27]

we are lol :9

did natsu brag about getting sashimi the moment he got home from his lecture?

fuyumi [09:28]

yeah.

giggling a little, you can almost hear her slightly exasperated tone.

you take a picture of an unsuspecting dabi looking at the frozen steamed buns and he side eyes you after you turn away, already having a sneaking suspicion who you were sending it to.

you [09:28]

touyamakinghearteyesatredbeanbuns.png

fuyumi [09:30]

fatass

you muffle your laughter as touya stalks over to you, swiping the phone out of your hands just as fuyumi texts again.

fuyumi [09:31]

anyways i was going to ask

can you add panko bread crumbs to your cart please?

i wanted make katsudon for you all tonight :>

touya’s types furiously as you hide your face in his chest in a silent fit of laughter.

you [09:32]

only if you take back calling me a fatass, fatass

fuyumi [09:33]

please i’ve hear worse threats from my kindergarteners in the sandbox

you’re almost to the checkout line, before touya stops you.

you don’t even have to take a glance in the direction he’s looking in.

“touya, no.”

“touya, yes.”

he wants to grin so bad but his new staples are still fresh from last week’s surgery.

his mouth settles for a safe pout to win your pity.

unfortunately for him you had an iron will in concerns to his health.

“the nurse said ‘no processed foods for the next thirteen days.’ that includes shrimp chips, dummy.”

your hand around his bicep is firm as you drag him away, and he stares longingly back at the snack aisle.

“where are we going?” he murmurs, the grocery bags that he had insisted carrying in one hand while letting you drag him along in the other.

he makes sure he’s walking on the side of the curb.

you slow your pace to walk beside him and he can hear the teasing smile in your voice.

“to bring a baby home to your mom.”

“okay… wait what?!”

he stares at the potted geraniums in your hands as you exit the plant nursery, eyes flicking up to meet your cheeky grin.

“our baby.”

so that’s what you meant.

you looked a little too pleased with yourself and had somehow gotten a smudge of dirt on your forehead in the process of choosing the perfect flowers for his mother.

he wipes it off with his thumb, and pretends to lick it to see your reaction. your squeals of protest and the way your eyes smile when you laugh make his stomach do a flip.

just like when he met you for the first time.

touya decides anything is worth it as long as he gets to see you make that face. especially pretending eating dirt. fuck the shrimp chips, the only snack he needed was you.

except you weren’t just a snack.

you were a goddamn meal.

he raises an eyebrow and smirks, eyes dancing with mischief as he looks down at you. a firm hand pressed against your belly as he places a painstakingly soft kiss on the spot where the dirt smudge used to be.

“don’t worry.” he breathes. you can feel him smile into the crook of your neck, his fingers caressing your stomach as you squirm ticklishly against him.

“i’ll get you a real one someday.”

you nearly drop the geraniums on his foot.

sunday

today is sunday.

meaning it’s weekly movie night in the todoroki household.

shoto was the one who made it a tradition, after liking it so much when he did it with his classmates. everyone agreed it was the perfect low-effort family bonding activity after a long week.

natsuo just finished taking his finals. you’re relieved not to see him pull anymore all-nighters.

fuyumi’s on summer break. letters from her students written in crayon and covered in silly doodles of her are litter the front of the fridge.

you smile as you pass by it when you’re on on the way to shoto’s room to help him do that little braid he liked on the side of his hair. he was starting to grow it out now.

rei makes sure to volunteer at the local gardening center in the mornings, ensuring her afternoons and evenings are free to spend time with her kids.

enji calls off from work the moment it hits six. his sidekicks at the agency can take care of whatever happens while he’s gone.

touya and you are in charge of buying snacks, and you get everyone’s favorite. after checking out, the two of you head home hand in hand.

you’re snuggled under a blanket with touya. it was shoto’s turn to choose a movie, and the sounds of shrek played as you grew sleepier and sleepier. touya’s warm arms, which had you trapped in his lap, were not helping.

you point at the plate of tuna mayo onigiri on the coffee table. rei and fuyumi had made them earlier while you and him were out at the supermarket.

“remember when you ate so many of those because natsuo dared you to and you got a tummy ache?” he lets out a noise akin to a giggle, and your mouth splits into a grin at the familiar sound.

memories of hot summers sleeping on the floor with the fan on full blast and staying up to see fireflies come flooding back to you.

lying on the roof, you remember him resting his head on your chest while pointing out constellations to you, echoes of shared laughter filling the night air as he’d get them wrong every single time.

the stolen glances at each other between bites of juicy watermelon and soba. his ears turning redder than the slice of fruit in his hands when you catch him staring, the smug look on your face quickly turning into one of concern as he choked on his food and you rushed to pat his back.

in the present, you cuddle up impossibly closer to him, and he shivers as your warm breath hits his neck.

you had really missed this. he did too.

he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of the summer with you.

the rest of his life, too. he wasn’t planning on leaving you alone again, not now, not ever.

with you in his arms, he focuses on the movie, laughing along with shoto as fiona attempts to yank out the arrow in shrek’s butt. he turns to you, a smile tugging at his lips. his hair looks even softer against the glow of the projector.

“would you love me if i turned into shrek?”

you grin, poking his cheek. “i’d miss this pretty face of yours too much.”

"scars and all?"

"scars and all."

he frowns playfully at that despite the butterflies coming to life in his stomach, and leans forward to rest his head against your shoulder. you smirk, catching a whiff of your conditioner. “i knew you only liked me for my looks.”

“shush.” you point at something on the coffee table.

he spots the bag of shrimp chips, not so subtly lighting up.

you must have snuck them onto the conveyor belt while you two were standing in the checkout line when he wasn’t looking.

“i love you so much holy shit.” he whispers, nuzzling into your shoulder.

“i know.”

cue the side eye from him.

you roll your eyes at his dramatics and turn around to straddle his strong thighs, raising your hands to gently hold his face in them.

touya shivers as your thumb brushes against his cheek, your touch sweet like the peaches he shared with you after breakfast that morning.

“i love you too.” you whisper back, just in time before he lifts the blanket up to cover the both of you in the dark as he hungrily leans forward to close the gap between you.

rei’s the first one to notice you two asleep on the couch as the ending credits roll.

she gets another fluffy blanket from the closet to layer on top of the one already on your sleeping forms, making sure you’re both properly covered.

she places a kiss on touya’s forehead, then yours, before hugging the rest of her children goodnight and giving them kisses as well.

enji follows suit, muttering a gruff goodnight to everyone. a chorus of quiet good nights trail after him as he lumbers off.

fuyumi, natsuo, and shoto are the last ones left in the living room.

they smirk knowingly at each other as they see touya squeeze you tighter in his sleep, mumbling something about how lucky he is that you’re his.

something about getting you a ring too.

as the three siblings exit the room, they wordlessly shared one last excited glance before heading separate ways to their respective beds. shoto was especially pleased.

when you started living with them, he could ask you to help braid his hair everyday.

he wants you to teach him when you have the time, too. touya could never get it right like you did when you weren’t here.

at least touya had enough of a grasp on his sense of style to help him pick outfits.

you, obviously, were already a todoroki in all of their hearts.

but they still couldn’t wait for their big brother to grow a pair and tie the knot with you.

[sceletaflores]

all's fair in love and viscera...

pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader wc: 6.7k contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, violence, blood, gore (more so thoughts of gore) nat probably blatantly ignoring canon, fighting as foreplay, bleeding as foreplay, written with X2 logan in mind, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem!receiving), finger sucking hehehe, light choking, hair pulling, blood play, biting is just another form of sexual penetration guys, scent kink, pain kink, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n. author’s note: i have a rotting note that says "logan spar fic turned face sitting" so that's what this is but it kinda got a little weird lol i also just wanted an excuse to write more about the mutant ability that's been bopping around in my brain since watching season four of the boys. kisses!

logan wants to spar...

You can smell him before he even opens the door to the training room.

It’s funny, because almost all blood smells the exact same. It melds into one coppery, metallic tang that stings your nose everywhere you go.

Mutant blood is only slightly different, something sharper with a tartness that lingers in the air longer, that tingles along the edge of your senses and burns the back of your throat.

Logan's blood is something entirely different.

The first time you met him it almost brought you to your knees. It was so overwhelming, the smell swarming you so intoxicating and all encompassing that it made you feel dizzy.

Logan’s blood is a wild mix of earthy musk and something like charred wood. His scent carries an electric charge, like the smell of air right before a thunderstorm, like ozone after a lightning strike.

It's like nothing you've ever encountered before—hot and acidic, with a barely there underlying sweetness that never fails to turn your insides to liquid. It seems to defy normalcy, bending the rules of what you know about blood and biology.

You know in the back of your mind that it's the adamantium. It's been fused to his skeleton for so long, it must be something chemical. A reaction happening in his body that makes it so distinctly different.

Part of you likes to think that it's just Logan, that the scent is a reflection of everything he is. The raw, untamed essence of his nature, something primal that’s deeply ingrained in his being.

The door creaks open behind you, you make it a point to keep your focus on the punching bag. You've been here for hours, your arms only finally starting to burn with exertion. The bag feels solid and grounding under your taped knuckles, swinging lightly with every hit.

Logan's heavy footsteps get closer and closer, echoing through the empty room until he's striding past you to lean against the wall next to the bag's rig.

You don't look at him, but you can feel his gaze—an intense, almost palpable thing.

“Figured you’d be down here,” Logan's voice is the familiar rough and gravelly rumble you've become used to, cutting through the silence between the two of you with a barely there teasing edge. “Couldn’t sleep, huh?” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Logan has an even better sense of smell than you do, and he can sniff out a lot more than blood. You're sure he knew you were here this whole time, that he could smell you from his room two stories up.

You give a small, noncommittal grunt, ignoring him as you throw another punch. Sweat is dotted across your hairline, it drips down the small of your back and the column of your throat. It's not that you don't like Logan, that you don’t want him here, you have the complete opposite of that problem.

You like Logan too much, more than you should.

Every time he’s near, you’re intensely aware of how much his presence affects you, of the way all the blood in your body starts to sizzle under your skin with a throbbing need that's getting harder and harder to ignore. It’s like a constant, low-grade fever that only flares up when he gets too close. 

“Come on, kid. You can’t ignore me all night,” he says, thick arms crossing over his chest. "Don't make me beg."

You let out a breath, more exasperated than anything else, and finally turn to face him. Logan’s standing there, all broad shoulders and rugged confidence in his white tank and gray sweats, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

That smirk—it's almost as dangerous as the claws hidden just underneath his skin.

“Didn’t know you were the begging type.” Your attempt to sound casual is overpowered by the slight breathy edge of your voice. You blame it on the workout.

Logan's smirk widens just a fraction, and you can tell he's caught the hitch in your voice. His eyes, sharp and knowing, narrow in on you with that familiar mix of amusement and something you can't quite place, something that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Only when I really want something," he replies easily.

Your form falters, just barely, but it’s enough for Logan to notice. You can hear the amused huff he lets out.

You throw another punch at the bag, more to steady yourself than anything else. The impact reverberates through your knuckles, but it doesn't do much to dispel the heat pooling low in your stomach.

"Back to ignoring me?" he asks, needling. You can see the raise of his brow in your peripheral vision.

“Trying to,” you mutter under your breath, though it's more to yourself than to him. You keep your gaze locked firmly on the bag, willing your pulse to steady.

"What's that?" he leans in closer, his scent wafting over to you as he does. Somehow stronger than before, an assault on your senses. You barely conceal a shiver.

"It’s not my fault you’re here when I'm at my least chatty," you retort blandly, a little louder, willing your voice to sound as steady as it can.

"Looks to me like you’re always at your least chatty,” he shoots back, not showing any signs of backing down.

"It's late,” you reply tersely.

"Yeah," he says. "It is late."

The words hang in the air, laced with a double meaning that neither of you acknowledges.

"Too late to be up hounding the bags like they owe you money," he adds, the tone of his voice almost gentle in a way that catches you off guard. Nothing like the Logan you're used to.

“Yeah, well,” you grunt, throwing a particularly sharp jab. “Some of us don’t need all the beauty sleep."

Logan lets out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, you can feel the vibration of it in your bones. "Funny," he muses to himself, voice going quiet like he's turning your words over in his mind. "I can see why Charles keeps you around."

You huff, sweaty brows knitting together in frustration. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know.”

“Babysit?” He smirks, clearly amused. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

Your resolve finally cracks, your fists sore when you drop them to your sides and turn to Logan with a questioning look on your face.

"What do you want, Logan?”

It sounds harsher than you meant it, rough and exasperated as you start to catch your breath for the first time since he walked in.

Logan doesn't respond, just pushes off the wall to step closer. His scent hits you like a truck now that your focus is solely on him, you can feel your blood start to thrum under your veins. The sweat dripping down your back feels like it’s igniting the tension in your body, and Logan’s only making it worse the closer he gets.

He stops a little less than a foot away from you. It’s too close, he evades your space until all you can see is him. The width of his shoulders, the strong muscle of his chest and torso filling your view.

Logan doesn't say anything for a few beats, just stares down at you with a studying look on his face. It's a struggle to keep still under the intensity of his gaze. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, the rhythmic thud loud in your ears as the silence stretches between you.

He tilts his head to the side slightly, eyes narrowing as he trails them over your sweaty face. You're seconds away from saying something, from turning and running with your tail between your legs, when he beats you to it.

He lets out an amused scoff, shaking his head as he walks past you to the large blue training mat in the middle of the room.

"C'mon," he calls over his shoulder, "Try hitting something that hits back, might help clear your head."

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift, but Logan’s already made his way to the center of the mat, turning to face you with a challenging glint in his eye.

You shake your head slowly, not moving from your place across the room. "I don't want to fight you."

Logan chuckles wryly, “Could’ve fooled me, sweetheart.”

The nickname sends a jolt through you, your pulse skipping in response. It’s always the way he says it—rough around the edges but with a softness that’s almost affectionate. You clench your fists tight, as if the simple act of it will keep your thoughts in check.

"Think you can keep up?" he teases, rolling his shoulders in that casual, self-assured way of his. But there's something in his tone, a challenge that makes you want to prove yourself.

You cast your eyes to the ceiling, exasperated, a bemused laugh bubbling from your chest as you do. "You know I can," you reply, your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through you. "This isn't about that."

You should just say no. You should say no and go back up to your room so you can go to bed and forget all about this in the morning. You can barely stand to be in the same room with Logan for more than thirty minutes at a time, training with him is too much of a risk.

"What's it about then? You scared?" Logan's voice snaps you out of your thoughts, a playful smirk curling his lips. He raises an eyebrow, daring you to join him.

That does it. A spark of defiance flares in your chest, overriding the nervous tension that’s been building since he walked in. You’re not one to back down from a fight, especially when Logan's practically begging for one.

Without thinking, you stride over to the mat.

Logan watches you approach, his stance relaxed but ready, like a predator sizing up its prey. You try your best to ignore the smug look on his face as you kick off your shoes and join him.

"Not scared," you shrug, running your fingers over the tape on your knuckles. "I just don't need you getting all pissy when I win." You roll your shoulders, shake out your arms, and square up, focusing on the way Logan’s eyes are locked on yours.

Logan's grin widens, a flash of sharp teeth that makes your pulse quicken. "We'll see about that."

You drop into a ready stance, the tension in your muscles coiled tight like a spring. For a moment, neither of you moves, just sizing each other up. The silence between you stretches taut like a bowstring. Your eyes lock onto Logan's, each of you reading the other, waiting for the right moment to strike.

The air between you feels like it's vibrating, charged with a mix of tension, anticipation, and something else—something unspoken, simmering just beneath the surface.

Then, in a blur of motion, Logan makes the first move, just like you expected him to. He lunges, fast and strong, but you're ready for him, sidestepping the blow and bringing your forearm up to deflect his fist away from your body.

"Slow start, old man?" you quip, a sly smile tugging at your lips as you regain your footing. "Speed isn't what it used to be?"

Logan chuckles, a low and throaty sound. "Just warming up, sweetheart. Don't want you crying unfair when I take you down too quick."

You scoff, rolling your eyes dramatically before launching your own attack. You swing a swift roundhouse kick aimed at his midsection. He anticipates the move, catching your ankle with one hand while his other reaches out to grab your wrist.

But you're quicker. Using the momentum, you twist your body and slip free from his grasp, landing lightly back on your feet a few steps away. The brief contact sends a jolt up your leg, his touch searing even through the thick layer of your sweats.

"Stop holding back," you say roughly, your lips turned down in a displeased frown. "Hit me."

Logan's eyes flash with amusement. "Careful what you wish for."

He advances again, this time more aggressive. He throws a combination of punches—left, right, left—each one precise and controlled. You block the first two, but the third grazes past your defenses, skimming your rib cage hard enough to sting.

You hiss softly at the impact but don't back down. Instead, you duck low and sweep your leg out in a wide arc, aiming to knock him off balance. Logan slides back just in time, your foot swiping through empty air as he evades the attack with a kind of brute grace that you wouldn’t expect.

"Getting fancy now?" he remarks, that infuriating smirk never leaving his face.

You don't respond, springing to your feet with a raised fist in a swift uppercut. This time you connect, your knuckles catching his stubbled jaw with a loud 'crack'. Your whole hand throbs, you can feel the break in your thumb snap back together in a sharp pinch.

Logan stumbles back a step, his head snapping to the ceiling with the force of your hit. When he turns back to you, there's a large bruise blooming along the sharp cut of his jaw. You watch the color of it spread across his skin, angry reds and dull purples that fade as fast as they appear.

There's a glint of something dangerous in his eyes as he meets your gaze. The brown of them darker than before, his pupils blown out and glossy in a way you've never seen.

With a low growl, he comes at you again, faster this time. His movements a blur of muscle and intent. You manage to block the first hit, but not the second, his fist catches your side with enough power to make you stumble back a few steps. Pain flares white hot through your ribs, but you grit your teeth and bear it.

You lose yourself in the rhythm of the fight. The world narrows down to the two of you, the sound of your breaths and the feel of his skin brushing against yours in fleeting moments of contact.

There's a thrill in it, in the way you challenge each other, in the way you push past your own boundaries.

But there's also something more, something deeper. Every time your eyes lock, you can feel the electricity between you, the way your heart skips a beat, the way your breath catches in your throat. It's not just about the fight anymore. 

You feel more alive than you have in a long time. More alive with every sting of each new blow, with the way your muscles burn, with the stray hairs that stick to your forehead.

The heat between you is almost tangible, mixing with the sweat and exertion. Every punch, every block, sends a jolt of adrenaline through your system, making it both exhilarating and maddening.

The scent of him—earthy, electric, and utterly intoxicating—growing stronger with every second. Your senses are on high alert, every part of you tuned in to his presence.

It wraps around your whole being, making it hard to think straight. But you don’t need to think—you just move, letting your instincts take over.

Logan feints to the left and uses it to sweep your legs out from under you in the same move he mocked you for. Your back hits the floor with a hard thud, the give of the mat not doing much to soften the hardwood underneath.

All the breath in your lungs rushes out of you in a sharp gasp. Before you can recover, Logan is looming over you. He cages your body under his own, thick arms on either side of your head, his weight pressing you further into the floor. His breath is hot against your ear as he leans in close, his voice a low, almost growling murmur.

"Gotcha."

You try to come up with a witty comment, a snarky line, a petty insult. Anything at all really—but the words catch in your throat. Instead, you just stare up at him, your chest heaving violently, your heart pounding so loud you're sure he can hear it.

The whole room feels like it’s spinning, and for a moment, all you can focus on is the intensity in Logan’s eyes, the heat of him against you.

Suddenly, your entire body feels like it's on fire. Phantom flames lapping at every inch of your skin that send your head reeling quicker than you can blink. It's not an unfamiliar feeling, but you've only ever felt it outside of a mission once, and it didn't end well.

For a few heart stopping seconds, you're more than confused. Panic starts to set in at the thought of having another "accident" and not even knowing what's triggering it.

Through the messy haze of your panic, you finally see it. The tiny cut above Logan's brow leaking a thin trail of red down the side of his face.

Everything around you dissolves into static, your eyes zeroing in on that single bead of crimson. The cut's long gone by the time it drips from his jaw to the mat right next to your shoulder. Logan's skin stitching back together and leaving no trace that it was ever broken in the first place, but it doesn't matter.

The damage is already done, and you can feel your body start to react.

You can feel your resolve crumbling, the edges of your self-control fraying with every passing second. Your own blood pulses beneath your skin like liquid fire as your stomach churns and twists. The intense need to feel, to taste, to take claws at your throat.

You let out a low, guttural sound, somewhere between a growl and a whimper, as you lose the last of your control.

Hank had called it a frenzy, but that wasn't a technical term.

"You're not in your right mind. You've essentially been conditioned to react strongly to the scent and sight of blood, particularly when you're already in a heightened emotional or physical state. The combination of adrenaline, exertion, and the scent triggers this...well, this 'frenzy' for lack of a better term."

It's like you blackout, and when you wake up, you're straddling Logan's chest with your hand wrapped around his throat in a vice-like grip. The tan column of his throat glowing red beneath your hand, a map of blue veins inked along his skin like spiderwebs as you watch the blood pulse through them.

Your grip tightens instinctively, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to reign in the storm swirling inside you. Everything narrows down to the pounding in your ears, the blazing heat of Logan's skin under your fingers, and the urge to let go, to give in.

Logan's voice starts to trickle in around the static buzzing in your ears, your name falling from his lips sounds strained, but there's a calmness to it. The fog of your instincts begins to fade, the world around you slowly starting to piece back together.

You blink, the haze in your mind clearing as you try to focus on his face, the way his eyes are locked onto yours. Intense, but not clouded with fear like you expected.

Your chest heaves with every breath, ragged and short like they're being ripped out of your lungs. Your wide eyes dropping to where your hand is still locked around his throat, panic surges in your chest like ice freezing over a lake.

But before you can do anything, Logan's reaching up, his hand catching your wrist in a tight grip. His thumb brushes over your pulse point—the touch sends a jolt through you, as if he’s touched a live wire.

“Don't,” he says, like he knows what you're thinking, his voice a rough whisper. The rasp of it vibrates against your hand. “Don't stop now."

Logan’s other hand comes up to rest on your hips, his touch firm but not forceful. He doesn’t try to wrestle control away from you; instead, he holds you steady. His fingers dig into your skin, grounding you.

“Come on,” he coaxes, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sends a shiver of anticipation through you. “I can take it. Give it to me.”

The world around you blurs, your focus entirely on the man beneath you, the way his body feels under your hands, the way he’s willingly surrendering to your control.

You take a breath, trying to steady yourself, but it’s no use. You search his eyes, dark and full of want. There's a heat there, a spark that crackles between you, and it only adds fuel to your fire.

If he wants to push, you're ready to push back.

Silently, you slide your hand up the expanse of his throat, feeling the way his pulse beats strong and fast under your palm. The glow under his skin dissipates as you make your way up, tracing your fingers over his jaw and up to his bottom lip.

Logan’s breathing is rapid, his chest rising and falling under you quicker than before. His lips are slick and red, parted so enticingly that you can help but slide your index finger over them. Your nail digs into the fat of his bottom lip, not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to let him feel it.

Logan lets you toy with him, meets your gaze head on as you push further. Your finger presses deeper, pushing past the seam of his lips to feel the warmth of his mouth, the wet glide of his tongue against your skin.

The sharp bite of Logan's teeth pinches your skin as he closes his lips around your finger and sucks.

Your breath catches in your throat, heat blooming in your core as his tongue brushes over the pad of your finger. You can feel the ache of your cunt between your legs, arousal leaking wet and sticky in your panties.

Your other hand rises up to rest on the side of his face, your fingers grazing over his cheekbone. The touch feather-light but filled with a fierce, unspoken energy. Logan’s breath hitches slightly, his eyes darkening even further.

Your palm splays over the skin of his cheek, the heat of his face seeping into your hand. Logan’s eyes close for a moment, his breath coming in shallow bursts as he tilts his head into your touch.

In a quick move, you dig your fingernails into the fat of his cheek roughly. Logan’s body arches under you, his back snapping off the mat with guttural groan ripping from his chest as you pierce his skin.

You gasp at the scent of him wafting up through the air, at the feeling of his teeth digging into your own flesh. His blood leaking onto the tips of your fingers feels like a shock to your system, both electrifying and terrifying.

His skin glows even brighter than before. A mix of reds and oranges that light up just beneath his skin, the blue of his veins like rivers on a map. Your nails dig deeper into his skin, drawing more blood, the warm, sticky liquid coating your fingers. You watch, mesmerized, as the glow under his skin pulses in response, as if feeding off your energy, amplifying the connection between you.

Logan’s breath hitches, his body tensing beneath yours, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans into your touch, his eyes dark and hooded with desire.

it takes barely any energy from you. The faintest traces of your power used for something none of those demented scientists in white lab coats intended.

None of that matters. All that matters is the raw, animalistic connection between you—the way his body is responding to your touch, the way his eyes shine with want, the way his blood sings in harmony with yours.

You could boil Logan alive in less than a second, burst every vessel and capillary in his body until he's nothing more than a copper stain on the floor. But his hands only tighten their grip on your waist to drag you impossibly closer.

"More," Logan growls, his voice vibrating against your palm as his teeth sink a little deeper into your finger, the heat of his breath searing against your skin. He hooks his hands under your thighs, dragging your body up his chest until your legs are spread on either side of his head. 

Your hands fly to his hair, steadying yourself with two fist fulls of the brown tufts that sit atop his head. You’ve always been curious if Logan styles his hair this way on purpose, or if it just grows like that naturally. You don't have time to ponder it for long before he's letting out another ragged groan and burying his face between your thighs.

You can feel the heat of his breath over the clothed expanse of your cunt, his nose trailing along the inseam of your sweats as he inhales greedy lungfuls of your scent.

"Logan," you gasp, voice gone high and breathy around the edges.

"Tell me what you want," he says lowly, his lips brushing over you with every word.

It's muffled slightly, but the demand in his tone still sends a shock through you. Your grip on his hair tightens as your mind falls into a whirl of sensations and emotions you couldn't possibly confront.

He presses a heated kiss against the fabric of your sweats, right over where your aching clit pulses with need. The sensation sends an electric jolt straight through your core. Your whole body hums with an intense craving, a need that burns hot and fierce.

"Tell me," he repeats, his voice a rough rasp that vibrates against your core.

You swallow hard, your breath hitching as you try to form a coherent thought, let alone speak.

"I want..." you start, your voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and desire. The words are there, lodged in your throat, but saying them out loud feels like crossing a line you’re not sure you’re ready to cross.

"I need you,” you breathe out, the confession slipping from your lips like a secret finally set free “I need everything.”

Logan’s eyes flare with something fierce and wild. Without a word, he pulls you closer, his hands surging up to tear through the fabric of your clothes like it's nothing but tissue paper. The tattered remains of your panties and sweats pool to the floor in a crumpled mess.

The heat of his breath is replaced by the pressure of his mouth, his tongue sliding through the wet slit of your cunt. He lets out a filthy groan at the first real taste of you, the flat of his tongue lapping eagerly through your dripping slit.

The thrill of his mouth against your most sensitive spots sends a jolt through your entire body, your back arching taut as you grip his hair even tighter. Logan’s groan reverberates through you, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your core.

Logan is relentless, devouring you like he’s been starving for this, starving for you. The wet sounds of his mouth working you over mix with your breathless whimpers and the low growls rumbling from his chest. He works his tongue expertly, tracing every inch of you, mapping out every spot that makes you tremble and moan.

Your thighs tighten around his head, hips grinding against his face almost unintentionally as heat starts coiling tight in your belly. The scruff of his jaw rubs against the sensitive skin of your thighs with each drag of his head, the sting of it just adds to the assault of pleasure. You wish he could leave his mark on you, wish that your skin wouldn’t work overtime to fix the angry red blotches of raw skin he leaves in his wake.

Logan grips you hard enough that you can see the bruises decorating your skin every time you look down. His arms firm and strong where they’re locked around your thighs to keep you pressed against his mouth. His nose bumps against your throbbing clit each time he fucks his tongue into your leaking cunt.

“Logan,” you moan, your voice a breathy plea that only seems to spur him on. He flicks his tongue over your clit, sucking it into his mouth with a harsh pull that makes you cry out, your whole body shuddering with the intensity of it.

“Taste so fucking good, baby,” he murmurs against you, the words muffled by the slickness of your folds. “Could eat you all night.”

“Logan, I’m—” you start, but the words catch in your throat as he sucks hard on your clit, sending you careening over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, your entire body convulsing with the force of it as you cry out his name, your nails digging into his scalp as you hold on.

Logan doesn’t stop, doesn’t give you a moment to catch your breath. He licks you through your release, his mouth working you over with a single-minded intensity that has you writhing against him, overstimulated and desperate for more.

“Fuck, Logan, please,” you gasp, not even sure what you’re begging for, just knowing you need something, anything to ease the ache that’s still throbbing deep inside you.

Logan pulls back just enough to look up at you, the bottom of his face slick with your arousal, eyes dark with a hunger that matches your own. He licks his lips, savoring the taste of you.

Logan’s hands slide up your thighs, his touch gentle now but still impossibly firm. He trails his fingers along your skin, tracing the sensitive lines where your skin starts to heal the damage he left behind.

“Still with me?” he asks, his voice is softer than before but there’s still an unmistakable rough edge coating his words.

You nod, your voice barely a whisper as you try to collect yourself. “Yeah...I’m here.”

“Good,” he growls softly, his hands squeezing the sore skin of your hips. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You’re on your back in less than a second, Logan flipping your positions so fast it has your head spinning. His mouth crashes against yours, hot and desperate, all sharp teeth and bruising pressure. 

It’s a kiss that feels like a fight, like a challenge, like a promise of something much darker and more consuming just beneath the surface. His stubble scrapes against your skin, adding to the raw, visceral feeling of it all. Your teeth clack together violently, you can taste the faint coppery tang of blood on his lips. 

You kiss him back just as fiercely, pouring all the pent-up frustration, all the desire, all the fear and anger and need into the contact between you. Your hands are everywhere, clawing at his hair, his shoulders, his back—needing to feel him, to mark him, to claim him as yours in a way that’s as undeniable as the blood pulsing through your veins.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, needing him to fill the ache that’s building inside you. Logan grinds against you, his hard cock still trapped in the fabric of his sweats rubbing against your spit soaked cunt. You can’t help the desperate whimper that escapes your throat. “Please, Logan,” you gasp out against his lips, your voice trembling with need. “Fuck me, I need it, please–.” 

He growls low in his throat, his eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. “You sure you’re ready for this, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice rough, his breath hot against your skin. 

You nod frantically, your hips bucking up against him darkens the fabric tent of his bottoms. He feels huge, heavy and hot where he pushes against your slick folds. “Yes, please, just—” Logan doesn’t let you finish. 

With a swift, almost feral move, he pushes the hem of his sweats down roughly, the sound of seams ripping rings through the room. You barely have time to gasp before he’s pushing his cock into you, stretching you wide, filling you so completely that all you can do is cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he immediately sets a relentless pace. 

You don’t have any time to adjust to the thick length of his cock carving its way inside of you, the sting of it has your eyes screwed shut. It’s only barely straddling the knife's edge of where pain and pleasure meld together, but it has you crying out his name all the same. 

Logan fucking sounds identical to Logan fighting, guttural groans and growls that are ripped from somewhere deep in his chest to pierce through the air between you. That ring in your ears and shake through your very soul like thunder. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he grates, his voice thick with lust as he holds himself still for a moment, eyes glued to where you’re stretched around him. The puffy, abused lips of your cunt slick with his spit and the pre-come steadily leaking from his dark red tip. “Feels like heaven, sweetheart.”

You moan, high and loud in the back of your throat as your ankles lock around his lower back. Your heels dig into the skin just above his ass as your cunt trembles around his cock, your spongy walls working over him desperately, milking him. 

“You like that don’t you?” Logan taunts, starting to snap his hips with purpose. “You like getting fucked like this, princess?” He leans down enough to growl directly into your ear, “I can smell how much you want it, how bad you're aching for it." 

He slides his hands up your sides, rough palms gliding over your sweat-slick skin as he continues, "You drive me fucking crazy, sweetheart. I can barely think straight with you on top of me, with your scent all over me. You know what you're doing, don’t you? Getting me all riled up like this."

You can’t respond, can’t speak. You can barely form a coherent thought, your lips falling open in a stream of desperate moans and whines as you bury your face in his neck.

The pulse of his carotid artery under your lips is maddening, each beat of his heart like a drum driving you further into madness. You want to sink your teeth into the skin there, to pull flesh and muscle from bone so you can watch the blood run in rivers and streams down Logan’s body.

The taste of him fresh and heady on your tongue as you watch the layers build back up from nothing, nerves and veins weaving themselves back together grotesquely.

“Fuck,” Logan groans, the sound vibrating through your mouth as you press your lips against his throat, your teeth scraping against his skin with barely restrained hunger.

You nip at his throat, your teeth leaving small indentations that fade almost as quickly as they appear. Logan’s breathing is ragged, his chest heaving with every shallow breath as he leans into your touch, his body taut with anticipation.

"Atta girl, that's it," he growls, voice thick with desire as his hands grip your hips even tighter, nails digging into your skin as he ruts into you like a beast. His hips snapping against yours hard enough to sting, the loud slap of it bouncing off the walls to echo lewdly in your ears.

He’s fucking you like he wants to break you, reinforced hips heavy as he pounds you into the floor mercilessly. “Taking my cock so well, best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You can feel the way Logan’s cock jerks and pulses inside of you, the taut heaviness of his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. You know he’s close, the brutal rhythm of his hips gets sloppier by the second.

You press your body up against his, your chest flush with his own as your hands wander over the hard planes of his back, tracing the lines of muscle beneath his skin. You dig your nails into his shoulder blades roughly, basking in the way his muscles roll and flex underneath your greedy palms.

You can feel the heat radiating from him, the pulsing glow of his blood under your fingertips as you explore every inch of him with a hunger that’s almost feral. 

And then, with a low, guttural sound that you barely recognize as your own, you sink your teeth into his neck.

Logan’s reaction is immediate and visceral. His entire body tenses above you, a sharp hiss escaping his lips as you bite down, hard enough to draw blood. The taste of him floods your mouth, metallic and rich, and it sends a wave of heat crashing through you.

You can feel his blood on your tongue, warm and thick, the taste of it driving you wild. It’s everything you’ve been craving, everything you’ve been trying to resist. And now that you’ve finally given in, it’s like a dam has broken inside you.

Logan’s growl is pure animal, his hips bucking up hard as he thrusts into you one last time, burying his cock as deep in you as he can. The force of his orgasm rips through him, your name falling from his lips like a prayer as he unloads inside of you. It’s so much, pulse after pulse of hot come that floods your insides. His hips don’t slow, still pumping and fucking like he’s trying to stuff you as full of himself as he can.

The feeling of it pushes you over the edge, your own orgasm crashing over you in a wave of white-hot pleasure that leaves you gasping and trembling above him. Your shaking cunt gushes over his cock as you swallow the blood pooling on your tongue.

Logan’s hips finally still, slotting flush with yours as he slumps onto the floor next to you, dragging you along with him so you can lay flat on his chest. The coarse hair scattered along his pecs scratches the skin of your cheek, you bury your face in the sweaty crook of his neck. You feel hazy, like you’re floating through the air, completely weightless. 

You think you could live here, plastered to the strong planes of Logan’s body, stuffed full of his cock and leaking his come in messy trails down your shaking thighs. 

But eventually, you have to pull back, your breath coming in short bursts as you lick the blood from your lips. Logan’s eyes are on you, shining under the chandelier light, his chest heaving with the effort of breathing. The wound on his neck is already healing, the skin knitting itself back together, but the blood still stains his skin red, a vivid reminder.

There’s a moment of silence, the air between you thick with tension and something else—something new and unspoken. You’re both panting, bodies still trembling with adrenaline.

Logan’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips, smearing the remnants of his blood across your skin. His eyes are locked on yours, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.

Finally, he reaches down slowly, like you’re a cornered animal that might turn and run any second. He takes your wrist in his hand, dragging it from the middle of his chest to the muscle directly over his heart. He presses your palm flat against him, blanketing your hand with his own.

“What do you feel,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a breath.

The question catches you off guard. It’s a challenge, but it’s also an invitation—a chance to confront whatever’s swirling inside you instead of running away from it. You hesitate, searching for the right words to encapsulate the storm of emotions you feel thrumming through your bones.

"You," you whisper back, your palm sliding over the sweaty plain of his bare chest. "All I feel is you."

Logan’s eyes soften, and a rare, genuine smile tugs at the corners of his lips. The intensity of the moment seems to dissolve, leaving a quiet understanding between you. He leans in, his breath warm against your cheek, and you can feel the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice a tender caress against your ear. His thumb brushes along your pulse in a feather light touch. “That makes two of us.”

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[gh0stsp1d3r]

May I please request where I am kiaras sister and I become pregnant from rafe and my parents kick me out

I love this sm

Not under my roof

R! Is 19, mikes an asshole

The wait was suspenseful, Rafe paced the room while your leg bounced up and down, both of you staring at the test.

When the two lines appeared, Rafe threw his hands up, running a hand through his hair. Your eyes welled up.

“Rafe-“

He bit down on his lip, stopping his pacing and looking down at you and nodding, his mind running wild. He thought for a moment before speaking.

“Fuck. Alright, alright, it’s okay. We got this, we can do this shit, right?” He was mostly talking to himself, but he looked at you as he said it. Tears ran down your face and he got down to your level, sitting in front of you, cupping your face gently.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey. It’s gonna be alright, okay? ‘M gonna… figure this shit out, gonna marry you, and I’ll… clean up another room at Tannyhill. It’s gonna be fine. Okay?”

You didn’t say anything or nod, he frowned. “You heard me? I’m gonna figure things out for us.”

You nodded and he sighed, standing up and leaving the bathroom.

The one thing you were worried about? How the hell were you gonna tell your parents?

You took a deep breath, fumbling with the key in your hand and opening the front door.

“Mom? Dad?” You called out, shutting the door behind you.

“In here!” Your mom shouted from the dining room. Your heart racing as you walked over to them, plastering a fake smile on your face when you saw them.

Kiara sat, looking miserable at the edge of the table, watching as you entered. Sarah was next to her. Great.

“Sit,” your dad motioned to a plate on the other end of the table. You gave Sarah a small smile and she gave one back.

“What’s this?” You asked when you sat down, pointing to the meat on your plate.

“Swordfish.” Your mom spoke, your face fell and your heart sunk. You couldn’t eat high-mercury fish.

“Is something wrong?” Your dad asked, you swallowed and looked at them.

“Uh... No. It’s just… I can’t eat swordfish.” You said, you should have known they would pester you about why.

“Why?” Kiara asked with an attitude, everyone now staring at you.

“I… my doctor told me not to eat meat for a few days.”

“What? Why? Is something wro-“ your mom immediately started.

“Everything’s fine.” You lied with a small smile, taking a sip of the water next to the plate.

“Then why can’t you eat meat, y/n?” Your mom kept going, a warning in her tone now. She knew something was up.

“I- not here.” You told her, glancing around the table.

“Y/n, tell me right n-“

You uttered the words quietly, 'I'm... I'm pregnant.' The room fell silent as your mom's fork clattered onto her plate, your dad's knife froze in the air above the fish, and my sister's eyes widened in shock as she stared.

Her words stumbled out in disbelief. "W- you’re- what?" she stuttered. "Whose... whose is it?

You looked at Sarah, closing your eyes and sighing as you muttered Rafes name.

Sarah’s face turned into one of shock. Kiara’s one of disgust.

“You had sex with Rafe? Are you kidding me right now?!” Kiara shouted, standing up.

“Kiara! Go to your room!” Your dad shouted back, standing up as well, pointing in the direction of her room. Your sister stormed off, Sarah stumbled behind her, still in shock.

Your dad sighed heavily as he sat back down.

“What are you gonna do with it?” He asked quietly.

“I’m… keeping it.”

“Do you really want to raise a child? You’re 19.”

“I- I mean, I want this. Can’t you just be happy for me, for fucking once?”

“Do not use that language with me, young lady.” He sneered. “I can’t have this shit happening under my roof. Under my watch.”

"You only care about your reputation!" You shouted at him, the words bursting like a dam breaking after years of pent-up anger. It felt terrifying to finally release all that had been bottled up inside you for so long.

“Y/n-“ your mom started, trying her best to stop the both of you.

“Don’t ever fucking say that, I’m just trying to help you! You can’t raise a baby! Not alone-“

“I won’t be alone!”

He scoffed, “you really expect me to believe that Rafe Cameron is going to stay with you after this baby?”

“You don’t know anything about him! Dad-“

“Sweetie, I think you should just lis-“ your mom started.

“No! It is my baby and my life, and if you don’t want to be involved in their life, then so fucking be it!”

“That’s not what he mea-“

“Get out.” He said, breathing heavily as he stared at you.

“W-what?” Your mom asked, looking at him now.

“Get the fuck out of my house, y/n.” He pointed to the front door.

“What? Are you serious right now?!” You exclaimed. “You’re kicking me out?!”

He wordlessly stormed to your room, going through all your drawers and grabbing everything, ignoring your mom’s protests as you shouted at him. He went outside, throwing all your clothes outside. He saw Rafe in the car, and stormed over to the car, Rafe getting out the car and furrowing his eyebrows.

“Dad? What are you doing?!” Kiara asked, coming outside now as well. While she was mad, she still had her love for her sister.

“What the fuck, man?” Rafe pointed to the clothes on the floor and your sobbing figure at the doorway.

“I am not having this shit-“ he pointed to you and Rafe. “-Happen under my roof.”

“Seriously? You know, we shouldn’t have even told you.” Rafe scoffed, watching you gather your clothes from the ground and go into passenger seat of his car.

Mike scoffed. “Can’t believe this shit.”

“She’s an adult!”

“I fuckin’ told her time and time again to stay away from guys like you-“

“The fuck is that supposed to mean, Mike?” He sneered, already rolling up his long sleeves before you got out the car and sniffled at him.

“C’mon, please. Don’t.” You told him, not even looking at your parents. Your eyes were pleading and he just scoffed, motioning for you to get back in the car and getting back in the drivers seat.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“How’d Ward and rose take it?” You asked him quietly, interrupting the silence.

“Better than your parents.” He scoffed, making you look down in your lap.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled to him.

“For what?” He questioned, genuinely confused as he glanced at you.

“Making you see that.”

“Hey, what did I tell you? I told you I’d be there for you, no matter what. I meant that shit, kid.“

It was silent for a little until he spoke up again.

“But, expect to be asked a million questions by Wheeze when we get back.” He said with a small smile playing on his lips.

[fanaticsnail]

Baby

Masterlist Here

Word count: 1,000+

Synopsis: Eustass Kid wants to treat you like he does with all of his other partners. He wants to top you, degrade you, pound into you like a wild animal. But he can't. Not when you give him praise like that. He's far too in love with the pretty words fleeing from your lips to try.

Themes: Eustass Kid x afab!reader, praise kink, cream pie, Kid is Subby, barely any plot, "baby" term used endearingly for Kid (subtle reader), Kid whimpering, NSFW, 18+, smut, MDNI.

Notes: Stuck in heavy traffic while driving to the beach, other people driving this big ol' car, writing some short debauchery in the back seat like an idiot.

Eustass Kid, as gruff and abrasive as he is, likes to think he is a dominant man. An alpha, a leader of his pack as his crew, and the greatest tamer of brats there ever was. He was so good at putting his intimate partners in their place that he felt as if he was the king of all the seas.

And then there was you.

He wanted so bad to give you the same treatment he had given all his partners. Rolling you onto your stomach, ass up, pounding into you with reckless abandon and slapping at the rippling flesh. Using language like: “Yeah, baby. Moan my name. I want the whole crew to know who this ass belongs to.”

But he simply couldn't.

He couldn't put you into a position beneath him. Not because he treats you as his equal, that is a given as Kid’s partner, but because he becomes too lost in the feeling of his cock being squeezed by the tight grip of your needy cunt. When your pussy grips his cock, he feels the gummy flesh molding into the shape of him and it drives him insane.

He tried so hard to degrade you, tease you, remind you of his position as captain and boss, but every time he opened his mouth, all that exited was whimpers and whines.

“Oh, good boy, Kid. Just like that,” your sweet praises coo into his ear, "You're so fucking good to me." He can't help but release that needy preen from the back of his throat at the feeling. Soft mewls and gasps panting into your neck as he slaps his hips into yours from his position above you. The messy arousal from your pussy between you has him drunk on the feeling. So wet, so welcoming, so warm. All his.

There is no coherence in his thoughts. All he can think about is how tame he was becoming from just his cock kissing at your cervix. Deep into your plush cunt, tufts of his pubic hair grind against your clit. Whining and keening for him, you claw your blunt fingertips over his shoulders towards his neck to tug him away from hiding in your shoulder.

“Don't hide from me, baby. Lemme see your pretty face. I know you're close,” you whine at him, gasping as he increases speed and becomes manic. Chasing his high, he pulls away from hiding in your shoulder and raises his metal hand to hover over your throat. He wanted to choke you, growl at you for babying him, but again, he can't.

He loves it.

He wants to be your baby. He wants to keep hearing your praise as he treats you good. He wants to be your good little puppy, hearing your orders and redirecting him to bring out your largest climax.

Slap, slap, slap; his hips grow manic as he caresses your shoulder and touches his forehead to yours. Brushing noses, his jaw falls slack and shudders as you wrap your legs around his hips.

“C-Can I cum? Can I cum? Let me cum?” He begs, mewling for your permission like a pussy-whipped lover-boy with no experience with a partner. He almost wants to gag on the words, hating himself for asking permission, but immediately finds himself freeing those thoughts from his mind as you whimper your enthusiasm up at him.

“Please, Kid. Baby, I need you,” you whine, “Be good to me. Cum in me. Fill me up with your fucking cum-.”

“FUCK! F-Fuck!” He barks, immediately flooding your pussy with hot spurts of his pearlescent release. Gasping, whining, whimpering and pleading, he again buries his face in the crook of your neck and cries into you while his pace grows frantic.

“Oh-... Fuck-... So good, Kid. Such a good boy,” you praise him, feeling the coil in your stomach grow taut, “Keep going. Keep fucking going. Kid I'm almost-.”

Kid refuses to leave you unsatisfied. He will buck wildly into you until he feels the spasm of your walls contract and flutter around him. He chases himself through the oversensitive waves of overstimulation, his cock twitching and muscles aching as he keeps pumping you full of his hot load.

At one final, deep slap of his blunt tip hitting your g-spot, you unravel around him. Vision sparking white, you whimper and forge yourself to him like soldering metal to an iron rod. Hands locked over his shoulders, you keep up the rapid pace of his manic thrusting by digging your heels into the meat of his ass. He gasps and huffs at the feeling of your pussy wringing his cock of the final twitches of his release.

“Oh f-fuck, Kid. Fuck, th-that was-,” you babble feeling his body go limp as he smothers you by his broad chest. “Oh, baby, you did so good. So fucking good.” He lets out a pathetic little whimper, one that he feels eat at him as soon as it spills from his throat.

But he couldn't complain. Never complain. No matter how hard he tried to bite bark, bark at you, or growl out a gruff curse at the praise you would always coo at him, he couldn't bring himself to do it. All he could ever manage was a soft, barely there whisper of four words in sequence.

“Thank you,” he pants with his head foggy and breath thick, “Love you.”

He will get you back, no matter how long it took. He would make you submissive and pliant just like his past lovers. He didn't care how long it took for him to have you be the one begging and whining for him. But as he pulls away from the crook of your neck to peer into your eyes, his eyes always upturn and a soft pout plays on his painted lips.

“Good boy.”

Fuck.

He'll never be able to have you submit to him. Not when you praise him like that. Not when you look up at him like that, all blissed out and glowing from the etherial afterwaves of your orgasm.

He was a helpless little puppy in a giant body, wanting to continue to please you and cum in your perfect pussy as long as you allowed him to. He was yours completely.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fic Idea: The Contact, the Butler and the Sly Time Lord

Martha accidentally engaged Bruce to a higher being when he was two.

It sounds terrible, but she hadn't thought that the man wearing the Time ghost costume at her husband's Halloween Gala wasn't wearing a costume and was actually the physical embodiment of Time.

She just thought he took Halloween very seriously.

Mr. Clockwork was charming and didn't care that she had married from the lower level of first class. Her parents were rich, of course, but they weren't old money, and they certainly didn't have a lot of power to speak of.

Because of that, the elites of Gotham thought she wasn't good enough to be in a family such as the Waynes. It was so lovely not to be dragged into conversations that were thinly concealed insults.

Everyone else at the Gala thought Martha had no right to be there with them. Why was she just a few zeros off from being middle class, and wasn't it just so sad that Thomas would stain his family with her?

Secertly, Martha prayed Bruce would do something wild, like marry a girl from Crime Alley or even adopt kids in lower classes to make them all choke on their pearls.

Her son would be one of the most powerful men in a few years, and she couldn't wait to see what kind of hell he would unleash upon them. She would never push, of course, but it would be a nice fantasy to have every time she had to face passive-aggressive comments from ladies told by their fathers they would be a far better Mrs. Wyane.

" Why, hello there. Aren't you the cutest little thing?" Mr. Clockwork coos, smiling down at Bruce. He clung to his mother's skirt, his matching cowboy costume a miniature version of what she was wearing.

The boy had wandered over in the middle of their conversation once he was bored of coloring at his table. Martha couldn't blame her poor baby. There really wasn't much to do for those his age here.

Thomas had stated that children were usually not brought along due to being loud and distracting.

Martha wouldn't hear any of it, insisting her son would be going with them at the party or there would be no party. The majority of the elites believed children should be seen, not heard, and that boiled her blood something fierce.

Thomas had thankfully known when to pick his battles, so he allowed his wife to drag him to a costume store for a family costume to wear. He currently chatting with a group of investors in all his cowboy glory somewhere on the other side of the gala.

"Say thank you, Bruce," She tells her boy, but he only hides his face more, causing the two adults to chuckle. "Do you have kids, Mr.Clockwork?"

"Yes. Two daughters and a son" The man chuckles "All three are a handleful but I love them dearly."

"Oh, how wonderful. Bruce is my only son, but I want to give him siblings," she tells him warmly. She can picture Bruce chasing after his younger siblings dressed up as the Grey Ghost he loves.

She knows Thomas was worried about their chances of having a second child. He was informed not too long ago that he may suffer from secondary infertility. She didn't mind. If they couldn't have a child of their own by blood they could easily adopt.

Martha worked long and hard to provide good orphanages to the city. Maybe one day, a child from there could be her own. She'll have to speak to her orphanage managers- those in charge of the kids- to see if they could help her find one.

They have successfully been getting kids into good homes (At least she thought the number of children constantly changed, and the kids were never seen again, meaning the families that adopted them loved them enough to never return!)

Mr. Clockwork hums "how about giving him a spouse instead? My girls or boy could be a good partner"

Laughing, she assumes he meant her work on bettering the lives of the gay community- in honor of her brother who passed during the AIDs epidemic. "I'm sure Bruce would be happy to hear Mommy found him a husband."

"Is that a yes?" Clockwork eyes' flashed with an emotion that was gone too quick for her to identify.

"Yes, of course. If that is what they both want, I wouldn't mind their marriage at all."

Mr. Clockworks red eyes - contacts? A medical condition?- gleam, and his voice takes on a strange rhythm. "Then so shall it be, my son Danny Fenton shall be married to Bruce Wayne per their Blood Mother and Core Father deal."

Huh. Maybe Mr. Clockwork is a nutcase. Suddenly, she thinks back to her father, who would often tell her that she lived in a delusion because he did not want her to see the horror that Gotham truly is.

Even when you think you're doing good, Gotham has a way of making your work into nightmares.

Was Mr. Clockwork one of those people he warned her about?

Thankfully, he leaves not long after that. He claims he must return to work before his co-workers notice him gone. She doesn't see him for the rest of the night and half wonders if she had been speaking to one of the wait staff they hired as extra help.

Not that she minded, but it made her think his name might not even be Clockwork.

She tells Thomas the story hours after Bruce is put to bed with a candy bucket and the last guests have all slipped home. Thomas is exhausted, having been playing host longer than her because Martha had left around eight to take Bruce trick and treating. Then she got home and put him down for his bedtime.

She got back to the party around eleven but it was a much-needed break from all the hostility that Thomas had been forced to face alone.

"WHAT!?" Thomas booms when she finishes the story. They had just crawled into bed, and Thomas had been rolling to his side for sleep before her words flung him back. "Clockwork!? You're sure you spoke to Clockwork!?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"What did he look like?"

"Um well he was in costume, but red eyes, blue skin, and he was wearing purple robes." She watches as the blood drains from her husband's face. "What is it darling? Who was he?"

"Oh, this isn't good....Alfred! Alfred!" Thomas frantically calls as if the devil had appeared in their bedroom.

Their servant and sometimes lover comes racing into the room, carrying a loaded shotgun. Ever since Thomas had met him overseas when he hired the British man as a personal bodyguard, he fell hard and fast for Alfred but he still deeply loved Martha.

He had sent Martha a letter detailing his feelings for his guard, and only after she had given him permission did he pursue the butler. Alfred had insisted on meeting Thomas' wife to prove that she was okay with him having a lover, so he had followed Wayne back home.

Then he simply never left.

Maybe because he was the best butler Wayne ever had, with his regal training and service in her royal highness' army, but she thinks that her own developed feelings for Alfred convince him to remain.

Alfred insisted that he was only a servant and thus could not be added to their marriage besides a bed partner occasionally. Still, Martha hoped one day they could convince him otherwise.

Bruce already saw him as a second father.

He looks at the pair, dressed in their nightwear in a rather enticing position (Thomas had grabbed Martha by her shoulder, to look into her eyes but that left them rather entangled on the bed) with no visible threat, and raises one brow.

Before he can say anything Thomas is all but rolling out of bed in a frantic leap. He tangles up in the blankets, falling gracelessly over the edge in failing limbs "Martha made a deal with Clockwork!"

At once, Alfred's handsome face drains of blood. "Oh dear, Martha darling, you made a grave mistake."

She can only blink at the men in confusion. "Who is Clockwork?"

"He has many names, but I knew him as Merlin," Alfred informed her evenly. He took her hand in his, the tremble in his fingers revealing his unease. " He had shown interest in Master Thomas before and was the one I protected him from. I barely fought him off and only due to outsmarting him. I would not be able to do it again a second time."

What?

"He is also known as a Fae or incubus in some circles. The kind that steals you away for fun." Thomas babbled from where he was pacing next to the bed, eyes franticly glancing about as if the bogggie man was about to leap out at him from the shadows.

For a moment, Martha wondered why her husband, a man of science and medicine who had never been superstitious, believed this Clockwork was some...some creature of myths.

"Martha, love, what did he ask of you?" Alfred questioned, bringing her hand to his lips as though kissing them would confirm she was safe before him.

"He asked for Bruce to marry his son."

"Oh, gods!" Thomas fretted, speeding up, his long strides becoming far more frantic. "Please say you didn't say yes."

"I-thought it was a joke, I didn't see anything wrong with it, I- said yes."

Alfred closed his eyes, looking like a man who had just been informed his death sentence had been signed by the Queen. "Then all we can do now is pray."

Years later, as Alfred is dusting the portrait of his deceased loves. He allowed his hand to trace the cover of Martha's painted smile and Thomas' strong jaw, mind filled with stolen kisses and sweet nothings that were ripped away that fateful night.

He is still struck by their loss. Every now and then, the knowledge of their death creeps in during his most mundane activities. It's like a kick to the chest every time.

Oh, how he misses them.

Ding Dong

The front doorbell jolts him out of his memories so violently it takes the aged Butler a moment or two to get a hold of his senses. He puts down the duster, climbs down the latter, and quickly makes his way to the door.

Stopping to fix his suit coat, he throws it open with a prepared smile. He expects extra help from the catering company Master Bruce hired for Wayne's annual Halloween Gala.

He was not expecting the two men, one looking nervous around Master Bruce's age and the other sly. His age is hard to gauge, but it may be due to time not affecting him as it did mortals.

Alfred's blood freezes at the sight of those cunning red eyes and smirk. "Merlin."

"Alfred Pennyworth." The demon chuckles. "I prefer Clockwork, as you know, but it's good to see you remember me. Most humans are prone to forgetting in their limited age."

"What are you doing here?"

"Why I came to fulfill the deal between Martha Wayne nee Kane and I"

"Martha is dead. Your contact is void."

Clockwork chuckles again, the sound as deadly as poison. "The contact lives as long as all those involved in it live. You know this."

Alfred presses the panic button on his wristwatch, knowing it sends a message to everyone in the manor to evacuate immediately. He will not live through this battle, but hopefully, it will give Master Bruce time to escape. "You will not lay a hand on Master Bruce."

"Come now, Alfred. We are to be in-laws. Our sons are joining in holy matrimony. Why the hostility-"

"Excuse me what?" The other man-demon? Ghost? Higher-being? cuts in, looking at Clockwork with brows knitted into a frown. "What did you mean holy matrimony?"

"Danny, you're getting married," Clockwork says with a cheerful wave.

"The hell I am!" The man barks, flushing red with anger. Alfred can hardly believe he just yelled at the monster. "I am not marrying some random guy!"

"It is the way things must go for the good of mankind-"

"Oh, go suck on a lemon! We both know that whole "this is fate" is bull!"

"You are embarrassing me in front of our new in-laws, younn man" Clockwork actually waves a finger at the fully grown human. "This is my one chance to marry you off to a good man. We both know that you can't attract a mate on your own."

"What!? Yes, I can! I've had girlfriends and boyfriends before!"

"And yet, no spouse! No wedding! Not even a ring!"

"Moby Dick, I knew this bonding fishing trip was a lie! You can't make me get married because of some contact you made when I was three!"

"It's not permanent! Martha Wayne said If that is what they both want, I wouldn't mind their marriage at all. This means you both must want to be together after one year of marriage. See if you like it, and if you don't, I can always find you a new husband."

"This isn't returning a jacket to a store! I can't just see if I like being married Clockwork!" The man hissed running a hand through his hair. "We're going home. I'm so sorry for bothering you today Mr. Alfred."

Alfred blinks at the young man's sheepish smile, wondering if ti's a trick. "No bother at all."

"Danny, if you leave without marriage, Bruce Wayne will die in an hour due to breaking our contract," Clockwork says, crossing his arms. "Honestly, your sisters were far more mature regarding their marriages."

Danny punches him in the face with a glowing hand. The higher being falls like a sack of bricks.

"Right, I'm going to drop this one off at a nursing home, and then I'll return to marry Bruce. Only so the contact doesn't kill him, and I swear I'll only visit every once in a while until our year is up." Throwing- Merlin, holy shit- over his shoulder as if though he weighed nothing, Danny waves at Alfred and scurries away, vanishing into a green portal.

Alfred is left standing at the doorway, utterly flabbergasted. Distantly, he wonders if the hollowing wind is actually Martha laughing herself silly in the afterlife.

Carefully, he reaches up for his com, switching it on to the sound of his family's frantic bickering. They were all worried about him since he sent the alarm and were fighting about following policy or saving him.

"Master Bruce," He says faintly silencing the coms "Please come to have your suit fitted as soon as you can."

"What for?" His son asks, likely looking for a coded message, but Alfred doesn't have the mental capacity to make one.

"Your wedding, sir. It's tonight, courtesy of your mother."

The coms explode into chaos.