#just take care of yourself and your friends and make sure they take care of you!

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✧ Logan Howlett x reader x Peter Parker

✧ summary: Your new teammate Peter Parker has a huge crush on you, and your boyfriend Logan has always wanted to watch someone else fuck you. It’s Peter’s birthday and Logan decides to share.

✧ warnings: smut 18+, mmf threesome, oral, unprotected piv, so much cum lol, Peter is very pathetic lmao (and not very experienced) and more of a sub, Logan is dominant and reader is dom-ish for Peter but sub-ish for Logan, little bit of say gex 😋 (oral, Logan receiving), pet names (my girl, good girl/boy, baby, bub), implied age gap (Peter is the youngest – didn’t mention a specific age but early 20s-ish, reader is a few years older, Logan is obv the oldest), Peter being a nerd, lots of teaching Peter (mostly how to go down on each other), also the fic starts with smut right away lol

✧ note: idek if anyone else is interested in this character constellation and needs it as much as i do but they’re my two biggest marvel crushes (in completely different ways) so i had to!!!!! like hellooo😵‍💫 and i really love this omg

✧ word count: 7.5k oops

-

You’re on top of Logan, riding him like your life depends on it. 

Logan’s so good in bed that you usually just let him pamper you; you both like it that way. It’s also what makes the times when you’re on top even more special. Your boyfriend is struggling not to cum in you yet, fingers indenting your hips where he’s grabbing you hard. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby, such a good girl,” he groans underneath you. 

You grin as you lean down to give him a sloppy kiss, pulling away before he’s done with you so you can resume bouncing up and down in his lap.

Logan slides his hand between your legs, beginning to rub your clit as he feels you clenching around him tighter. 

You’re so close.

You’re so fucked out that you barely register the door to your bedroom opening. 

“Hey, do you know if– oh god, sorry!” you hear Peter’s voice, and before you can catch a glimpse of him the door shuts with a bang.

It takes a few moments for your heartbeat to calm down and for you to realise what just happened. Peter walked in on you fucking your boyfriend. Innocent, nervous, adorable Peter Parker – new recruit at the mansion. You’ve only just barely befriended your new teammate and you’re not sure your friendship can handle him catching you like this.

You look down at Logan for the first time, only to see him smiling. 

“He did that on purpose,” he chuckles, hands still resting on your hips as if he’s ready for you to start right back up. You stay on top of him with his cock nestled deep inside you, pulsing, but you can’t get yourself to focus on the pleasure of it.

“He’d never do something like that on purpose. He’s way too innocent for that. He wasn’t meant to see us like that – I bet he’s traumatised!”

Logan laughs again, “Traumatised because he’s not the one fucking you maybe, sure.”

Your mouth hangs open at Logan’s accusation – Peter sees you as a friend, nothing more! You doubt he even thinks about sex, let alone about having sex with you. 

Rising to your knees, you let Logan slip out of you, his cock slapping against his abs with a dull, wet smack, a mix of his precum and your wetness smearing over his skin.

“What? We’re stopping cause of him?” Logan grabs your hand, “He’d get what he wants.”

“Logan,” you warn, somewhat seriously. He’s making Peter out to be someone he really isn’t.

He smiles, adjusting your hips so you’re hovering over him again, jerking his cock and positioning the tip at your entrance. You smile down at him – it’s hard to resist when he looks so good and your pussy is still wet and not yet satisfied.

“Peter did that on purpose, bub,” he repeats, breath becoming laboured as you sink down on him, “You’re not telling me you’ve been oblivious to his crush on you all this time, right?” 

You involuntarily clench your pussy around him, closing your eyes so you don’t have to face looking at him after that. But Logan’s smirking – you don’t have to open your eyes to know that; you can practically hear it. He jerks his hips under you, starting to fuck into you from below.

“Y’like that, baby? Spider-Man’s got a crush on my girl. You don’t know that?”

It almost feels like you’re cumming with how much wetter you get at his words, and you manage to open your eyes to climb off him properly this time, lying down next to him, burying your face into the pillow to hide.

“Noo,” you squeal, though it comes out muffled.

Logan slaps your ass, keeping his hand there to grab your flesh, “Uh-uh, baby. You can’t squeeze around my cock like that and then run away.”

You giggle, leaning up to look at him, “That was just because I was sitting on your big dick. It had nothing to do with Peter.”

“Suure, bub, sure. Can I keep fucking you then?”

You nod, scooting closer to him, both of you on your side. Logan hikes your leg over his hip and slowly thrusts into you as your limbs tangle together. He spits on his hand to rub your clit messily, the way he knows is enough when you were already this close to an orgasm just moments earlier.

“You’re the only one I want, Logan,” you tell him in a quiet voice, distracted by how good he feels inside you as he fucks you, playing with your puffy clit.

“I know that, baby, I know that. I know you’re my girl. My perfect, pretty girl. Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy that someone else has a crush on you. Can’t expect Peter to be blind.”

You cum around his cock then, moaning into his skin as he fucks you through your orgasm, filling you with his own load seconds later.

Logan drops the topic of Peter while you cuddle afterwards, and it’s hard to keep thinking about it when you’ve got your gorgeous, beefy boyfriend next to you, your hand buried in his hair as you massage his scalp the way you know he likes.

It’s when Logan says he’s going downstairs to get you some water that you remember Peter.

“Tell him I’m sorry if you see him.”

“Sure, bub,” Logan says dismissively, kissing your knee with a teasing grin as he gets off the bed. You suppose he’s right – you have nothing to be sorry for. It’s Peter’s fault for walking in without knocking.

But you can’t help but feel bad. He’s an adult, only a few years your minor, but he seems so innocent. He likes you – you can agree with that. He admires you; that much is obvious too, but you don’t know if calling it a crush is an exaggeration. If Logan is right and Peter has a crush on you, you’re sure it’s nothing sexual.

-

Logan can sense Peter from a mile away. Peter is pacing up and down in the kitchen. Logan smiles at the floor as he enters the room.

Spider-Man’s face is flushed – whether it’s from embarrassment or arousal, Logan can’t tell. But the bulge in Peter’s sweatpants assures Logan that he was right in his assumption in the first place. He turns to the sink to pour a glass of water to take upstairs, giving Peter the time to adjust himself.

“My girl says she’s sorry,” Logan says in amusement, turning around, “Didn’t mean for you to see us like that.”

“What? I– no, I’m sorry. I should have knocked,” Peter stammers.

“That’s what I told her.”

Peter doesn’t reply, having a stare contest with the floor so that he doesn’t have to meet Logan’s eyes.

Logan chuckles, “So why’re you in the kitchen and not in your bedroom?”

Peter doesn’t miss the sexual implication. “I feel bad.”

“What, you think people don’t jerk off thinking about their crush just because that person is in a relationship? It’s just in your head, bub, you can do what you want.”

Peter looks up. It’s not that he feels bad towards Logan; he feels bad towards you. But if Logan thinks that way and you’re his girlfriend, maybe that means you share his opinion. Peter is too lost in thought to reply to Logan.

“Suit yourself,” Logan says as he leaves the kitchen. 

-

“Did you see him?” you ask Logan when he comes back.

“Yeah, said he’s sorry, he should have knocked.”

“And he didn’t seem disturbed?”

Logan laughs out loud at your question, “No, baby, don’t worry. He’s not disturbed. His only problem seemed to be how hard he was.”

Your mouth falls open, “Really?”

“Maybe he’s not as innocent as you thought after all, bub,” Logan smirks, pulling you closer.

That revelation turns you on more than you care to admit, to yourself or to Logan.

-

It’s Peter’s birthday a few weeks later and he’s happy as long as he gets to spend it with you. 

He’s not expecting you to get him anything, but you get him a Lego set that he’s been wanting for months. It’s something he’s mentioned to you only in passing and he can’t believe that you remembered.

You make it so hard for him to see you only as a friend when you’re this attentive. To be fair, he’d probably fall in love with anyone who gives him Lego, but he already liked you before. If only your boyfriend wasn’t the most attractive, masculine man in the entire world who, even though Peter’s confident in his skills, could probably maim Peter without any effort at all.

He’s not sure if it’s true, but you’ve told Peter that Logan is busy today, so he can’t join you for Peter’s birthday lunch. He introduces you to his friends and his aunt that have come to his small celebration, and he fantasises that surely some of them must think you and him have a thing going on. May definitely gives him a look when she sees how gorgeous you are, but she already knows all about Peter’s hopeless crush on you.

You kiss Peter’s cheek when everyone leaves, letting him blush in peace as you go up to your bedroom. 

You told him you’d watch a film with him tonight but you seem to have forgot. It’s evening already and he wouldn’t want you to stay up too long for him if you watched the film later. Even if you did forget, he’s grateful he got to spend the day with you.

He’s about to bring his best gift – the one you gave him – upstairs and to his room.

“You like it?” Logan’s voice sounds behind Peter.

“I love it. I’ve wanted this for ages,” he grins.

“I’m glad you appreciate it. She made me threaten a twelve-year-old over it. It was the last set they had at the store.”

Peter grows even fonder of you. He knows he must be blushing, but he also knows there’s no point in hiding it – not since the night he walked in on you and Logan having sex. He’s been hoping Logan didn’t tell you about their run-in afterwards, although he knows he can be a little obvious regardless. It’s hard to hide a crush as big as the one he has on you.

Logan clears his throat, folding his arms, all those muscles bulging, “I’m not the best with material gifts but I’ve got something else for you.”

“Yeah?” Peter’s wary. Logan and him aren’t exactly friends. He wasn’t even expecting you to give him a gift.

“I know you wanna fuck my girl.”

Peter gulps at Logan’s directness, starting to stammer out a few words that make no sense.

“Y’don’t have to deny it. Can’t blame you, can I? You wanna live out your fantasy?”

Peter finds it hard to imagine that this isn’t a trap or some sick joke. “No–no, of course not. She’s your girlfriend and I’d never, I mean, she’d never cheat on you and I’d never try anything. I respect you so much–”.

Logan cuts him off, “Calm down, bub. This isn’t a trick. I’m asking if you wanna fuck my girl for your birthday. We both had the idea,” Logan smiles, and he doesn’t have to wait for a verbal answer to know that Peter wants it – the gleam in his eyes tells him enough, “C’mon. She’s waiting in your room.”

Peter abandons the Lego box on the floor. He couldn’t care less if some student found it and took it for themself. Peter’s on his way to better things.

-

Peter doesn’t let himself believe it until Logan opens the door to his bedroom, and there you are. You’re sitting on his bed – something Peter has imagined many times but never even dreamt of seeing in reality – in the most gorgeous set of lingerie he’s ever seen (not that he’s seen many in real life… or any).

“Hi,” he waves awkwardly, unsure whether to try and hide his growing erection. You’re half-naked only a few feet away from him, and this is better than all of his wet dreams about you combined.

You’re grinning, first at Peter and then at Logan, who closes the door behind Peter.

Logan takes a step forward to bend down and kiss you. It’s a short but sloppy kiss, Logan’s hand resting on your cheek. He looks back, chuckling at how desperate Peter must already look, and sits down in the chair near the bed.

“Hope you don’t mind, I’ve made myself comfortable,” you bite your lip. Even your voice alone could make Peter cum.

“No no no, not at all. You look so gorgeous. I never thought I’d get to see someone look so sexy in real life.”

You giggle and it feels heavenly to be making you laugh like that. You lift your hand for him to take. He gasps when his hand touches yours, and you pull him to the bed with you. He feels like hyperventilating just from being so close to you in nothing but underwear. Peter wills himself to be strong; he can’t embarrass himself and cum right away.

“You know, Logan’s been trying to tell me for a while that you might have a tiny crush on me, and I didn’t believe it at first but…”

Peter laughs nervously before you can finish your sentence, but you don’t have to. Everyone in this room knows how much Peter likes you. All of Xavier’s school probably knows – teachers and students.

“Yeah,” Peter says weakly, cheeks hot.

 “Logan and I thought this could be a nice present for your birthday, if you want. Cause I think you’re cute too, and Logan doesn’t mind sharing me for one night.”

It hurts a little that you only find Peter cute, but he’ll take whatever he can get. Clearly he’s cute enough to fuck, and that’s all that really matters right now.

“Of course I want to, so what are we doing?” Peter doesn’t mean for it to come out so stupidly. He knows you’re going to have sex, he just doesn’t know the details.

“I’m gonna get you nice and hard first,” you say it with a smile, looking down at his lap, knowing exactly that he’s more than hard enough already, “and then Logan’s gonna join us and you can both fuck me at the same time. Does that sound alright?”

Peter grins. “More than alright. I don’t know if I’m gonna last long but I only need a few seconds before I can get hard again,” he tells you proudly, before he remembers that your boyfriend has healing abilities too, far more complex than Peter’s. You’re probably used to going endless rounds. Now he just feels a bit silly for admitting that he can’t last long. 

Peter turns to the side to face Logan. He’s manspreading, arms folded cockily in front of his chest, and it’s unnerving how a single person can ooze that much confidence. Although, if he looked like Logan and had a girlfriend like you, Peter’s sure he would be less insecure too.

“Have you had sex before?” you ask Peter all kindly, and he blushes thinking about the image of him you apparently have in your head. He’s not that experienced, but he’s not that innocent either.

“Yeah,” is all he manages to say at first.

“What have you done?” you ask him, gently resting your hand on his jaw, thumb trailing over Peter’s bottom lip. He stops himself from licking it.

“I’ve, uh, been inside of a woman before and I’ve, like, fingered her. My ex-girlfriend.”

You smile at the unnecessary piece of information, “That’s it? You’ve never had your dick sucked?”

Peter shakes his head, feeling like he’ll cum just from your words, “No, and I’ve never gone down on a woman.”

“You wanna?”

He nods his head so eagerly that it makes you giggle again.

“Maybe later,” you tell Peter, your hand dropping back to your lap.

“You can eat her pussy after I’ve cum in it,” Logan says with a smirk. You give him a look, turning to assure Peter.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to do that.”

Peter looks between you two, “I don’t mind! I’m up for anything.”

You smile, moving to straddle him as you hum, “Good boy.”

He tenses underneath you, eyes screwed shut, and he can’t even enjoy the way he cums as soon as you settle on top of him, your hands on his shoulders. Hot embarrassment floods Peter’s body, and he feels like he might cry.

“Aw, it’s okay,” your voice is nothing but sweet with not even a hint of amusement, and Peter dares to open his eyes. Your face is inches away from his, and your closeness makes him feel less embarrassed.

“You like me that much, hm?” you continue, and Peter hears a quiet laugh from Logan, but he doesn’t care about his opinion, only yours, “I’m flattered you do. Glad you like your gift.”

“I really thought the lego set was my favourite present,” he says. This time he cracks a smile too as Logan and you giggle at his words.

“Let’s get you out of your clothes, okay?”

You get off Peter after he nods, pulling off his shirt. Peter stands up as you kneel in front of the bed to pull off his jeans, biting your lip when you feel how sticky his cum-stained boxers are.

“Look at what a mess you’ve made, baby. So cute.”

Peter swears you’ll stop associating that word with him by the end of the night, although he’s starting to like you calling him that. He takes one glance at you on your knees for him, and he has to look away in fear of cumming again immediately. 

“I know,” Logan tells him, and Peter sees then how hard he already is too. Peter can’t believe Logan gets you like this every night, but for now he smiles at him as they silently bond over how attracted to you they both are. It’s impossible not to be.

Logan’s eyes drift down to Peter’s hard cock, and you’re grinning back up at your boyfriend, “Look how big he is, baby. Almost the same size as you.” The joy in your voice makes Peter stand a little bit taller. He’s proud that you like his dick. It’s probably the proudest moment of his life thus far.

You pull Peter back on the bed, sitting down as you lean back against your hands, “You wanna unwrap your present?”

Peter nods, smiling at the goosebumps that erupt on your flesh as he pulls at the ribbon that you’ve wrapped around your waist. He leans over to place it on his nightstand – he’s keeping that forever.

When he sits down in front of you, the sweet smell of you hits him. He looks between your legs, and there’s a wet spot on your panties. All because of him? He keeps feeling prouder and prouder.

“Thought about this so many times. Jerked off at least three times every single day since I walked in on you two.”

You and Logan smile at each other. He asks Peter, “You did that on purpose?”

Peter doesn’t turn to face Logan, the blush that has only just subsided flaring back up. “N-no. Of course not.” He knows neither of you believe his lie. He couldn’t help himself.

“Don’t worry. She liked it too,” Logan informs him, and Peter’s eyes go wide.

“You’re a handsome boy, Pete,” you shrug, brushing your hand through his hair and he hums at the nickname.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks finally, cock already so hard he can barely think, and you haven’t even done anything yet.

“Go ahead,” Logan says, but Peter pays him no mind.

“I wasn’t asking you,” he says bravely, and your eyes go to those of your boyfriend as you raise your eyebrows.

“Told you he’s got it in him,” you say, pulling Peter close to press your plush lips to his. It’s like an explosion of endorphins, and Peter knows that from this moment on he can die happy. You pull him closer, kisses getting wetter as the sound of them takes over the room, and it’s the hottest thing Peter has ever experienced.

“Here,” you briefly pause, taking his hand and guiding it to the clasp of your bra at your back. He fiddles with it for a few seconds, and you want to give him a chance, but then the bed dips with the weight of Logan, and he opens your bra with ease.

Peter doesn’t know when he took his clothes off, but Logan is naked except for his boxers. He looks nowhere nearly as good as you, of course, but his muscles aren’t exactly an unwelcome sight.

“Isn’t my girl so pretty, Pete?” Logan asks, pulling the straps of your bra down your arms, taking off your bra.

“She’s gorgeous,” Peter rasps, “She’s perfect.” Logan hums in agreement.

Peter has imagined your tits too many times to count, and yet they’re even better than anything he’s fantasised about. He’s too nervous to touch you, but you take his shaky hands, putting them on your breasts.

“Oh my god,” Peter whispers, breathlessly cupping and squeezing at your tits as his cock leaks with precum. He sees you biting your lip as you look at his lap, and Logan takes Peter’s hands off your tits.

“Take off her underwear,” Logan commands as you smile at his words. You lift your hips, upper body leaning against Logan, and Peter pulls your panties down your legs. He throws them off the bed somewhere, hoping you won’t be able to find them again so that Peter can keep them forever.

He moans loudly when you spread your legs, and it’s a wonder that Peter doesn’t cum again just at the sight of your pussy. You’re perfect, and so wet, and he falls to his hands, in front of you on all fours.

“You want her mouth or her pussy first?” Logan asks, although you and him already know the answer.

“Wanna go down on you,” Peter says, unable to tear his eyes away from your pussy. You spread your legs further for him, and he looks up at you with the most adorable puppy eyes you’ve ever seen.

“You can,” you smile.

Peter inhales deeply when he squashes his face between your thighs, trying to burn the memory of how good you smell into his brain forever. 

He doesn’t have a technique, he just starts. You let out a soft moan when Peter licks up your entire pussy once; he moans too as he tastes you. He grabs your soft thighs, putting them over his shoulders as he lies down.

You give him a reassuring smile as he begins to eat you out, experimenting with different licks and kisses. You turn to your side to start kissing Logan, your hand holding his wrist as his arm drapes over your chest.

Peter licks greedily at your pussy, and you reach into Logan’s boxers to start stroking the hard length of him. Your hand is coated in his precum quickly, and he smiles into the kiss before he gently nips at your lip.

“You okay there, bub?” Logan pulls away to smirk at Peter. If you can still kiss Logan that well, then Peter isn’t doing a good job. You both look down to find Peter more focussed on grinding his cock against the bed rather than on eating you out. He blushes.

You reach out to touch his cheek, some of Logan’s precum from your hand wiping against Peter’s face, “you’re so cute.”

He doesn’t even register the word anymore.

“You want Logan to teach you?”

Peter nods, moving only minimally to make space for Logan next to him, both their wide shoulders knocking against each other’s (okay, Logan’s are slightly bigger). Logan huffs but doesn’t say anything, placing one of your legs over his shoulder and pressing your other knee up against your chest.

“Here’s how you do it,” Logan looks at Peter, bending down to press a sloppy kiss right against your clit, coating you in his spit before he begins to gently suck. You squirm immediately, and Peter can’t wait to try it out on you.

Logan pushes two fingers into your wet pussy, moving them in a way that you evidently like. Peter doesn’t know what to look at – your pretty face or your pretty pussy. Logan huffs next to him, “I know she looks good, kid, but you gotta focus if you wanna make her cum.”

Peter nods, watching Logan sucking on your clit and moving his fingers inside you.

“You can use your fingers to fuck her,” he explains.

“I know,” Peter says, his tone perhaps a little more petulant than what he was aiming for, “I just hadn’t gotten her consent to do that yet, so I didn’t.”

You smile at him, “you can do whatever you want to me, Pete.”  

And that’s all he’s ever wanted to hear in his life.

Logan nods at him, sitting back up, and Peter gets between your legs. He knows he’s got it easier now because Logan had his mouth on you for a bit, but it wouldn’t be fair otherwise. Logan is like an old man with loads of experience, and he probably gets to fuck you every night, so he has an unfair advantage.

Your boyfriend gets next to you, kissing you – and it’s all sensual and passionate and wet and Peter can’t help but stare for a few moments. Logan starts touching your tits, groping you and moving to gently play with your nipples.

You pull away from the kiss, a string of spit hanging between your and Logan’s mouth, “Pete?” you ask softly, but Peter can hear some desperation in your voice. He doesn’t need to be told twice.

First, he quickly licks your pussy just to get that heavenly taste in his mouth again, then settles on a more precise movement of his tongue. He circles your clit, hearing you sigh against Logan’s mouth, but Peter isn’t sure if he’s the one who evoked that sound.

He slides two fingers into your pussy, curling them how Logan showed him to. He’s stopped moving his mouth, too concentrated on looking at your face to see a reaction.

“That’s it, Peter, don’t stop,” you moan, pushing his head back down and he happily wraps his lips around your clit, fucking you gently with his fingers.

“Yeah, baby, he’s got you,” Logan says into your neck, “You’ve got her, right, Peter?” he asks all smugly.

“Mhhmmm,” Peter squeaks without taking his mouth off you, and the vibration of his voice seems to make you squirm a bit more. He decides to let himself moan the way he’s been wanting to the entire time, subtly grinding his hips into the bed beneath him as he eats you out and fucks you with his fingers.

You cum with a cry that makes Peter even prouder than he’s been all night, and he thinks he’ll savour the feeling of your thighs squeezing around his head for the rest of his life. He pushes his tongue into your pussy to taste as much of your arousal as he can, stopping when he feels your and Logan’s eyes on him.

“Did such a good job,” you tell him, and he grins proudly. He gets on his knees to lean up and kiss you. Your tongue slides into his mouth, and his heart skips a beat at the way you smile into the kiss. He’s in heaven.

“You wanna fuck me now?” you ask, and Peter’s eyes go wide as he sits up and gets back between your thighs.

“And I want you too,” you smile up at your boyfriend, pulling at the waistband of his boxers. Peter has no idea how Logan has this much self-restraint, watching as he gets off the bed and takes off his boxers with a grin. Peter sees how you drool at the sight of Logan’s big dick, and Peter feels his own mouth watering. 

“Here you go, baby. Gonna be a good girl for me, right? Gonna take my cock? You been waiting for this, hm?” Logan kneels next to you. He holds his cock over your face, lightly slapping the tip against your lips. Peter’s cock pulses against his abs. 

You nod wordlessly, wrapping your lips around your boyfriend’s huge cock. You pull off him only to spit on it, jerking off the lower half of him that’s harder to fit in your mouth. 

The wet sounds coming from you sucking Logan’s cock make Peter’s dick twitch as he spills a new load of precum. It lands on your thigh, getting your attention. 

Peter doesn’t know how you can spare a single moment away from Logan’s cock, but you pull your mouth off him, “You can start if you’re ready,” you smile at Peter. Both of you watch him as he pushes his cock inside you. 

Your warm, velvety walls suck his cock in unlike anything he’s ever felt before. Peter’s eyes flutter shut and he just stays like that for a few moments, the sound your mouth makes around Logan’s cock doesn’t make it easier for Peter. Even if you don’t seem to mind him cumming fast, he’s trying to prevent it, feeling so close again already.

He hears Logan huff out a laugh, and Peter opens his eyes. You’ve stopped going down on your boyfriend, looking at Peter all sweetly.

“It’s okay if you cum quickly, I did too at the start,” Logan confesses. It’s hard to imagine him – the epitome of virility – not being able to last long, even with someone as perfect as you, but it makes Peter feel better about himself, by a lot.

“I really don’t mind it, Pete,” you smile, and Peter nods. He looks down towards where you’re joined, your pussy stuffed with his cock. Even though you’re used to something even bigger, there’s an obvious strain, and you’re squeezing around him hard even when he’s not moving.

You and Logan watch as Peter starts to fuck you, your hand on your boyfriend’s cock, lazily jerking him off. Logan doesn’t seem to mind watching Peter pushing into you slowly. The two pairs of eyes make him feel more self-conscious, yet it’s also invigorating.

Peter clumsily rubs at your clit, at least attempting to focus on something other than how good he feels.

“You’re so tight, feel so good,” he mumbles, and you seem like you’re enjoying it too, back arched and hand faltering around Logan’s cock. You’re too distracted by Peter.

“Don’t stop,” you say quietly, evidently not there yet but Peter’s sure you feel good.

You share an intimate smile with Logan, and he tells Peter, “Doin’ a really good job with my girl. This is the only thing, bub..”

Logan tries to hide his smile as he grabs Peter’s hand to guide his fingers back to your clit from where they’d drifted off to your thigh, where he’d just been holding you. Peter’s cheeks turn red – or maybe they’ve been red the entire time – as he goes back to playing with your clit.

He doesn’t notice it, but a few seconds later he stops touching your clit again, too distracted by how good your pussy feels. Logan shoves his hand between your legs instead, making you moan as soon as he starts rubbing your clit in circles.

Your pussy spasms around Peter’s cock as you orgasm, and he can practically feel the pleasure flowing through you.

“Can I cum inside you?” The question comes too late to wait for an answer so Peter pulls out, cumming all over your belly in sticky ribbons as he jerks off desperately.

You bite your lip when he’s done, humming as you take some of Peter’s cum off your belly, pushing your finger between your lips. “Tastes so good,” you tell Peter, “Taste it.” 

You swipe some more on your finger, bringing your hand up to Peter’s face as you put your finger in his mouth. He wraps his lips around it hesitantly, smiling shyly when he tastes his own saltiness. Logan’s watching him too, cock still hard.

You gently nudge Peter’s head down towards your belly, and he smiles at you sweetly as his lips glide over your skin and he begins to lick up his own cum.

“Don’t swallow it all,” you say, your hand in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. He nods obediently, keeping his mouth closed when he’s licked your skin clean.

“Here,” you open your mouth for him, pulling him up to your face. His eyes go wide when he realises what you want him to do, and he holds your chin as he spits his cum into your mouth. 

He was starting to worry a little because, even though he knows he has no problem getting hard after a first orgasm, it’s been a while since he’s gone three times in a row. But now his dick is so hard again that it almost hurts.

You stick out your tongue, showing Peter and Logan the cum mixed with your spit in your mouth. “Come taste him,” you look up at Logan with the sexiest smile anyone has ever smiled, and Peter feels his cock flex as he somehow gets even harder.

Logan rolls his eyes playfully, bending down to kiss you nevertheless. Some of Peter’s cum runs down your chin, and Logan pulls away from the kiss to lick it up. Peter thinks he really should start training his stamina with how close he is again just from this.

You still don’t swallow when Logan stops kissing you. “Come here,” you tell Peter, and he kneels next to you so you have him and Logan at either side, their dicks hard. You sit up a little, spitting the rest of Peter’s cum into your hand as you reach for Logan’s cock, starting to jerk him off. 

He gives you a fake annoyed look at you using Peter’s cum as lube, but it’s obvious he likes it, and it makes Peter reach out to his own cock to give it a few strokes – he can’t help himself.

“Haven’t made you cum yet,” you peer up at Logan, who puts a reassuring hand on your cheek.

“You know I don’t mind watching you two, bub,” he says, and your wide smile hints that Logan has told you something slightly different in private. He doesn’t just mind it, he loves it. Peter gets why Logan might find that hard to admit in front of someone else, something about conventions and possessiveness, but he’s glad that Logan decided to share. He’s glad that you want him.

You wrap your lips around Logan’s cock again. While you suck his cock, you stop Peter’s hand on his cock, jerking him off instead. You pull your lips off Logan, turning to suck Peter’s dick.

You switch between them a few times, the taste of their precum mixing in your mouth and dripping down to their balls when you suck their dicks. Peter particularly enjoys this, awaiting his turn eagerly every time. The head of his cock is swollen with lust against the inside of your cheek, and you turn to him to focus on him fully, letting him get lost in the feeling of fucking your warm, wet mouth.

You put your hand on Logan’s hip, guiding him down the bed. He smirks as he gets between your thighs, watching you suck another man’s cock as he starts to fuck you. He goes slowly first, letting you adjust to his size as you moan around Peter’s dick.

Logan watches Peter’s eyes flutter shut at the vibration of your voice. Logan knows you’re not just moaning because of him inside you though.

“You like that, baby, hm? Like sucking Peter’s cock?” you don’t take your mouth off him, but your sparkling eyes meet Logan’s. It’s a look of understanding. 

Logan is ready to cum, but he tries to draw it out. He can go endless rounds but the first orgasm is always the best. He wants to savour it, save it for a bit longer. He focusses instead on making you cum, fucking against your g-spot, almost making you see stars.

You moan around Peter’s cock when you cum again, and Logan almost submits, but he’s able to fuck you through your orgasm without cumming. Peter spills into your mouth as your cheeks hollow around him, sucking him deeper down your throat.

“Such a good girl,” Logan praises you until your pussy stops pulsing with an orgasm, and you give him a fucked out smile as Peter pulls his cock out of your mouth.

“My girl,” Logan adds, kissing you, and you sigh against his lips in pleasure.

You sit up to grab the water bottle from the side of Peter’s bed and take a sip. You pass it to Peter and Logan afterwards, and you don’t move back between them once you’ve put the bottle away, so they’re facing each other.

You sit on your knees, looking between them as they’re impatiently waiting for you to come back, both their cocks standing hard and proud against their abs.

You bite your lip, “Are you into men, Pete?”

Peter’s heart misses a beat and then happily continues drumming against his chest as he nods eagerly, although he’s not sure why it matters right now.

You share a brief silent exchange with Logan before your next words. “So is Logan,” you nod towards your boyfriend. You wait for them to catch on to what you’re saying, but Peter is too shy to and Logan is still contemplating. This wasn’t a part of the plan, but he can’t say he’s against it. He just didn’t know you wanted to see him with another man the way he wants to see you with one.

“Um, what now?” Peter asks with a nervous smile, ready to please.

You fight the urge to simply answer now you kiss, “You think you two are the only ones that get a show?”

Peter’s eyes widen slightly at your suggestion before they brighten. A shy yet excited smile takes over his features.

“You sure, baby?” Logan asks you. You bite your lip, nodding slowly. Logan smirks, because he knows that exact look and you haven’t been quite this horny all night yet.

“Only if you want to as well,” you tell him, and he doesn’t need to answer.

“This okay for you, bub?” Logan lowers his voice as he speaks to Peter. 

He replies through an eager nod, “yeah.” The word comes out as a whisper.

Logan smirks as he leans in, gently placing his big hand around Peter’s throat. He’s not squeezing, just holding him in place. You didn’t mind Peter being all squirmy when you kissed him, but Logan wants to keep him still.

You watch their cocks rub against each other’s abs as they get closer, strings of spit connecting their lips as they make out, tongues tangling in desperation.

It’s sloppy, the way they kiss, and you could watch them forever.

Logan pulls his lips from Peter’s with a wet sound, firmly patting his cheek, “Now get on your knees, bub.”

The command makes even your knees buckle, and you watch Peter happily drop to the carpet, kneeling between Logan’s spread legs as he moves to the edge of the bed. He beckons you over to his side, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a messy kiss to your mouth.

You know he’s close now, having denied himself an orgasm this long.

Peter wraps a greedy hand around the base of Logan’s cock, leaning in to press a few kisses to his dick. You and Logan watch him, you pulled closely against his side.

“You want me to show you what to do?” you ask Peter after a while of him not doing anything but kissing and licking. Peter nods quickly, “yes please,” and you kiss him after you sit down next to him, tasting your boyfriend’s precum and some of your own arousal on him.

“Think he’s almost there,” you tell Peter as you look up at Logan through your lashes, and he smirks.

“That’s not a problem,” Peter says quickly.

“Here, you can use your tongue,” you tell him, wrapping your hand around Logan’s cock as you take him into your mouth, tongue wet against the underside of him, “try it.”

You keep holding Logan’s cock as you pull off him, angling it towards Peter’s face. His face is flushed as he takes Logan’s dick in his mouth for the first time, sucking on the tip.

“That’s it, doing so good,” you brush your thumb over Peter’s cheek where it bulges when he takes Logan deeper. Your and Logan’s eyes on him make him nervous, and he pulls off to kiss you instead.

You make out with him for a few moments, letting him kiss you greedily and wetly, before you guide your mouths back to Logan’s cock. You and Peter part only minimally as you kiss either side of Logan’s dick, spit running down from your mouths to his balls as you share him.

“Feels so good,” Logan mumbles, all blissed out, watching his perfect, pretty girlfriend share his cock with another guy.

You see how close he is, slowly pulling your mouth off him and leaning your cheek against his knee as you watch Peter take your boyfriend’s cock into his mouth all by himself.

“Attaboy,” Logan says, placing a hand on the back of Peter’s head when he goes deeper, spit falling from his lips.

“Juuust like that,” you add, your praise spurring Peter on. Logan’s other hand goes to your cheek, absent-mindedly brushing over it with his finger as he holds your face.

Peter gets more confident when Logan’s breath stutters. He moans on Logan’s cock as he takes him as deep as he can, the wet sound from his mouth obscene. 

Logan’s hips jerk as his cock twitches in Peter’s mouth, and he cums down his throat in warm, sticky ropes of his load.

“Good boy,” Logan softly ruffles Peter’s hair when he’s done, and you lean in to kiss Peter, some of your boyfriend’s cum still fresh on his lip.

“Doesn’t my boyfriend taste good?” you ask against his lips, hardly breaking the kiss. You can hear the slick of spit and cum on Logan’s cock already as he jerks off again, to the sight of you two making out with his cum between you.

“He does,” Peter mumbles against the skin of your jaw, kissing down your neck.

“He tastes better than me?” you tease.

“No– no, you taste better than anything in the world.” And Peter means it.

-

You’re not done until hours later; you fuck until it’s the middle of the night. Earlier, Peter was ready to forgo his birthday movie night just so you can go to sleep on time, but he got something much better, even if it means you stayed up late for him. He can’t say he feels too bad.

Peter is tucked in, you and Logan at either side as you send each other loving glances over Peter’s head. You’re stroking Peter’s hair, basically cuddling him with how close you are.

“Hope you liked your present,” you tell him, pressing one last kiss against his lips as you smile at his sleepy expression.

“Best birthday ever,” Peter mumbles, before he drifts off into a peaceful sleep.

-

P.S. reblog + let me know your thoughts and Logan and Peter will appear in your bed tonight 🩷🫣

[c0ffeejelly1]

When you send him a dirty text in public

Multiple character headcannons

Authors note: like 3 of these were half way finished in the nsfw section so like deal with it. And I’m gonna dip now bye. (POST-TIMESKIP!!)

Warnings: NSFW Content, femdom(ish) meh kinda, vaginal sex, doggy? Standing doggy?, oral sex, riding, men moaning, that kinda stuff.

You found yourself feeling utterly restless.

The minutes dragged on as you watched your boyfriend engage in a lively conversation with one of his friends.

It wasn’t that you were upset; after all, you knew his friend too.

Yet, a wave of boredom washed over you as you sat on the couch across from them, feeling like an outsider in a world that was supposed to include you.

…then, a light bulb went off in your mind.

You had the perfect idea.

Something that would definitely catch his attention!

Something that could make him blush!

An idea that would redirect all his focus back to his stunning girlfriend—you!

You were gonna send him a nude.

Okay maybe not a nude..but a very heavily erotic message.

Something that would surely make his heart race!

With a mischievous grin, you typed it out, hit send, and looked up, eager for his reaction.

The type to ask about it out loud

“Babe! Why did you send me this?”

Is there any way to land a punch on a oversized gorilla?

What on earth is he doing, just thrusting his phone at you so his friend can clearly see that steamy message?

"I mean, it's not that I dislike it... but why now?"

You could feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks.

How could he be so clueless about what should remain private?

“Hey, what do you think she meant when she said, ‘and we’re gonna keep going until you get pregnant.’ I can’t get pregnant..”

"I, uh..." His friend was wise enough to keep quiet, especially with the glare you shot him from the corner of your eye. "Let’s just put the phone away for now..."

"But I wanna kno—"

"Away."

Let’s just say your stay didn’t last long.

Once you were back home, you headed straight for your bedroom, eager to call it a night, but your boyfriend wouldn’t let it go.

Even as you settled on the couch to sleep instead, he trailed after you, nagging about the meaning behind that text.

After a while, you noticed he had gone silent, prompting you to glance over at him.

To your surprise, he looked flushed for some reason...

What was he staring at?

"B-babe..."

"...what?"

"Did you want to do the, um... thing together?"

"What thing?"

"Y-you know! The... the boom boom?"

"I'm going to ignore you."

For some reason, he didn’t even protest. Maybe he had finally decided to stop bothering you—

"W-woah!... hey! W-what are you doing?"

"I'm just trying to give you what you asked for...?"

When did you ever ask him to open your legs?

"I don’t remember asking you to—"

"Shh... it all makes sense to me why you're so moody..."

NSFW

“M’sorry for not taking care of you baby..”

You had truly let go of any resentment towards him two organisms ago.

When he promised to fulfill your desires, you could sense the sincerity in his voice, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you.

He kept his promise, and Lord were you going numb from pleasure.

He showed no signs of slowing down, and it seemed like he never intended to.

“Mm..you always taste so sweet..” His voice was low and sultry.

The way his tongue danced over your sensitive spot sent waves of electricity racing up your spine, as if he knew exactly how to draw out every reaction from you.

You could feel the heat pooling in the pit of your stomach, a delicious tension building with every flick and swirl.

“So pretty..I wanna hear you more, gorgeous..”

His voice was a soft, almost intimate mumble, but the way he spoke was undeniably affecting you more than you were willing to admit.

In a moment of impulsive desire, you thought to quiet his teasing by pulling him closer, a decision that quickly turned into a mistake.

“Mhm..you can push my head- please push my head..”

You didn’t actually expect him to like that..

It was clear he was hard at the moment, his body moving restlessly against the couch, seeking any kind of friction to alleviate the throbbing tension in his pants.

Tension escalated even further as he felt your thighs tightening next to his head once more.

“Fuck..squeeze your thighs around me..”

His words hung in the air, thick with challenge.

You couldn’t deny that you were nearing the edge again, the familiar rush building within you, a wave of pleasure that threatened to crash over.

But you were aware that if you came, if you surrendered completely to the moment, he would likely continue just like before—pushing you to the brink.

“Make a mess on my face, baby..come on, I’ll fuck you good after this, promise..”

I mean what’s one more climax gonna do to hurt anyone?

Characters: Murasakibara, Rengoku, Connie, HINATA, BOKUTO, Yuji, Beelzebub, DIAVOLO, kirishima, ITTO, Liaos (any character you like)

The type to be very bothered

“Hey man, you alright?” His friend asks, noticing the way your boyfriend had been avoiding eye contact and shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Absolutely! I’m doing great! Nothing’s bothering me at all! It’s not like a certain someone just sent me a super steamy message, right? Ha ha, that would be hilarious, wouldn’t it?”

His laughter is forced, a little too high-pitched, as it hangs awkwardly in the air between you all.

Is he even trying to hide it?

There’s a noticeable flush creeping onto his cheeks, a rosy hue that betrays his bravado, no matter how much he tries to downplay it.

You can see the heat radiating from his skin, and it’s clear that he’s not as unaffected as he wants you to believe.

The way he’s nervously fidgeting with his fingers, twisting them together and then letting them fall to his lap, only adds to the evidence.

His leg bounces up and down, a rapid rhythm that seems to echo the frantic thoughts racing through his mind.

It’s a classic sign of someone trying to mask their anxiety, and it’s not doing him any favors.

You can’t help but smirk at the sight of him.

The contrast between his words and his body language is stark.

He’s clearly flustered, and it’s almost endearing to see him so rattled.

Your message had definitely had an impact on him.

The way he keeps glancing at his phone, as if willing it to light up with another notification, only reinforces the idea that he’s not as composed as he pretends to be.

“Come on, man. You can tell me. What’s really going on?” His friend prods gently, hoping to coax the truth out of him.

Your boyfriend swallows hard, his throat bobbing as he tries to find the right words.

“It’s just… you know, sometimes messages can be a little… suggestive?” His voice trails off.

His friend raises an eyebrow.

“Suggestive? Like, ‘I miss you’ suggestive, or ‘I can’t thinking about you’ suggestive?”

Your boyfriend shifts in his seat, his fingers drumming nervously against the table, betraying the calm facade he’d attempt to maintain.

“More like… ‘I need you’ suggestive,” he finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Ah, I see…” his friend replies, nodding slowly, as they both turned towards your direction to see you trying to eavesdrop in on their conversation.

“What are you guys mumbling about..”

“N-Nothing!”

On your way back home you couldn’t help but feel your boyfriend’s uneasiness as he walked beside you.

He seemed almost scared of what was waiting for him at home, that it kinda made you feel a little bad for him..a little.

NSFW

As soon as you both enter the house, you find yourself taken aback as he unexpectedly pulled you toward your bedroom, before showering your body with heated kisses.

Each kiss, send shivers up your spin as his lips trail along your jawline and down to your collarbone.

Your fingers instinctively weave into his hair, feeling the softness of each strand as he pushes you gently against the cool door.

“Mm..I like when you play with my hair..”

His face nestles into the curve of your neck, breathing in your scent, as his hands begin to explore your shirt, fingers tracing the material, eager to remove it and reveal the skin beneath.

As he works to lift the fabric, he pauses, lifting his gaze to meet yours with a pleading puppy-like look.

You can see the question forming in his mind, the need for your consent hanging in the air.

“Please, baby..can I?”

With a soft nod, you give him the answer he seeks.

That’s how you found yourself helplessly bouncing on his cock.

He bites back a moan, desperately trying to hold some level of composure but losing the battle more and more with every sweet praise you whispered.

“F-fuck, I could listen to you talk all day..you have no idea what your voice does to me, baby.” He mumbles, his breaths coming in short uneven, gasps

His head leans back against the bed frame, eyes tightly shut, simply to savor the soft sound of your voice.

His grip on your hip squeezes as he begins to thrust against you in a desperate attempt to reach his climax.

He was panting, hard, unable to form a coherent word.

The situation only intensified the moment you call him a ‘good boy’.

Hearing you utter those words, despite how he loved hated the phrase, made him feel so good and so so close to the edge.

“I-I’m your good boy...I'm a good boy for you, I jus’ want you to f-feel good- ngh..”

He begins to babble, his only thought being the desire to cum inside you, and with a strangled moan, he finally succumbs to that urge.

It wouldn’t be so bad to have his kids right?

Characters: Reigen, SERIZAWA, Kagami, ARMIN, Reiner, Nishinoya, KAGEYAMA, CHOSO, LEVIATHAN, Izuku, Tamaki, Thoma, Chilchuck (any character you like)

The type to get distracted by his phone

The moment he heard his phone chime, he turned to see your message pop up on the screen.

He shot a quick glance to you before looking back to open it.

Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, because now he’s found himself grinning like a fool all while absorbing every word of your text, completely forgetting about the conversation with his friend sitting right next to him.

“..hello?? Bro, who you texting?”

“Yeah I’m listening.”

“What are you talking about? ..Why’re you hiding your screen..”

“Nothin, I’m not.”

“Come on, you totally are—”

“Dunno what you mean”

Let’s assume that you do keep this back to back chat with him while his friend desperately tries to find out what your boyfriends doing.

when your back home, trust me he’s taking all the things you said to him on text to heart.

“What? B-but baby you said right here that, and I quote ‘I crave you intensely right now, darling; my desire is almost overwhelming at this moment.’ “

“I obviously used chat.gpt for that, now go away I’m trying to sleep” you replied, your voice muffled by your pillow.

“But you’re on your phone!”

“And you got turned on from an AI message.”

This causes him to scoff slightly, though the small pout on his face was undeniably present.

“..can we at least go one round?”

“Say the magic word and I’ll think about it.”

NSFW

“Please baby..pleasee, s-slow down a lil f’me..”

His grip on the sheets tightened even more as he tilted his head back, lost in pleasure.

He knew he could easily regain control if he wanted, but you looked so irresistible, he couldn't help but revel in the thrill coursing through him as you pushed him to the edge.

“I-I’m sorry for being greedy, I won’t do it again- fuck..”

The words tumbled from his lips, a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration.

He was greedy. Such a greedy boy.

Asking for just one round but being unable to stop himself, ignoring the potential consequences that loomed in the back of his mind.

Now, he’s found himself moaning helplessly as he unraveled from your touch, each sound a testament to the pleasure you were giving him.

“Shit that feels good..you always feel good”

The way your tongue flicked and how you caressed him, especially at the tip, overwhelmed him to the point where tears began to well up in his eyes, a sign of both vulnerability and bliss.

“M’sorry I-I should’ve stopped after I came..”

Apologies spilled from his lips, a sign of how close he was to another climax.

He just felt so good. So good from you, and everything you were doing to him.

He could feel the tension building within him, a tight coil ready to snap, as he was torn between the desire to hold back and the overwhelming urge to let go completely.

The way you looked at him with those eyes only fueled his need as he felt himself teetering on the edge, the world around him blurring into a haze of sensation.

"Please... just a little more," he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with desperation.

I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a lil more edging..

I think he’s got a thing for sexting.

Characters: Dimple, AOMINE, Kise, Tengen, Eren, JEAN, Ukai, Tendou, ATSUMU, GOJO, Toji, Mammon, Denki, KAEYA, Childe (any character you like)

The type to do an old man squint

The moment he hears his phone chime, he’s bringing his glasses up to his face putting distance between him and his phone to look down at the message.

The shift in his expression to one of disappointment clearly indicated that he was somewhat not amused by your timing.

…Maybe because of the raging hard boner you we’re giving him from your boldness. Not that he would ever admit to be turned on by the text. No no, he’s not that type of guy.

He had to be very nonchalant about this whole situation, make it as though nothing had happened.

And he surprisingly did exactly that.

This old geezer really just brushed off your message.

“And do you know what I told him?”

“No, go on.”

“I told this jerk that-“

Now you were even more frustrated.

He was truly ignoring you! Intentionally!

You were too caught up in his sudden disapproval to notice the issue he was dealing with down below, too blinded by the sudden disproval he gave to you.

All you could think about was how effortlessly he resumed his chat with his lively friend.

It wasn’t until you waved goodbye and started your walk home in complete silence that it hit you.

Not a single word had passed between you two, and you could sense his irritation—was he mad?

What on earth was going through his mind?

That stoic expression of his was impossible to read…

“..so babe..” you start, awkwardly swinging your arms back and forth nodding your head slowly to a nonexistent beat.

“Yes?”

“I just- well about the um..message..”

“Later.”

What does that even mean.

Why not talk about it now?

It would be so much nicer than just walking in silence until you got back to your apartment.

But that’s exactly what took place.

Once you arrived, you noticed him darting suspiciously into your bedroom before he locked himself in the bathroom.

The sound of the door clicking shut echoed in the stillness, leaving you standing in the living room.

Choosing to ignore him for the moment, you took a deep breath and tried to focus on something positive.

You thought of a way to lift his spirits, before the idea finally struck you.

Why not make his favourite meal?

NSFW

You smile to yourself as you gather all the ingredients for the dinner you envisioned cooking for him, when suddenly you feel hands wrap around you waist from behind.

You could feel the gentle press of his hips against you, and the warmth of his breath brushing your neck as he leaned in closer.

The scent of his cologne created an intoxicating atmosphere around you both as a shiver ran down your spine.

You couldn’t help but lean back into him, feeling the solidness of his toned body against yours, subconsciously grinding into you.

“Fuck..you see what you’re doing to me love?”

You might not have been able to see it, but you definitely felt it.

And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t loving every second.

“I did all this? And here I thought you were mad at me..”

“What’s there to be upset about when I have a gorgeous girl making me dinner?”

In a swift motion, he spun you around and lifted you onto the countertop with ease, his hands resting gently on your waist.

He starts kissing you softly, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that sends shivers down your spine.

he moves down to your chest, each kiss igniting a fire within you before pausing only when he heard your small giggle.

“Well your impatient.”

“…Can you blame me? Your the one who sent that text.”

“So you did like it, huh?”

He locks eyes with you for a second and without waiting for a response, he dives back into those passionate kisses, his lips moving with a fervour that made your head spin.

You hear the sound of his belt rustling, the unmistakable sound of fabric hitting the floor, and at this moment you were both in nothing more than your underwear, the cold slab of the counter only causing you to feel even more sensitive to his touches.

He wasted no time in positioning you on the counter, angling your body slightly to grant him easier access. With a gentle motion, he moved your panties aside and entered you with a deep, guttural moan.

“S-shit..you always this tight sweetheart?”

You held onto the countertop firmly as he began to move slowly, being cautious not to cause you any discomfort.

However, eager for him to pick up the pace, you decided to playfully tease him with your words, knowing he would take your playful banter to heart.

In response, he began to thrust into you with relentless intensity, leaving you no time to catch your breath.

His warm breath brushed against the side of your neck as he tried to stifle the desperate sounds threatening to escape him.

This was your fault

All of this was.

You made him like this, he’d never act this irrational before until he met you.

You caused this change in him, and now you were paying for it..with pleasure of course.

(Imagine the rest I’m tired)

Characters: Akashi, MIDORIMA, Tsukishima, Iwaizumi, kuroo, Akaashi, Ushijima, Osamu, Geto, NANAMI, LUCIFER, Satan, IIDA, Bakugou, AYATO, Neuvillette, Zhongli (any character you like)

Bonus:

The type to not open the text

You had been at home for about an hour, perched on the counter, intently observing your boyfriend while cradling a cup of your favorite drink.

But today, your excitement was overshadowing the tranquility of the moment.

Patiently, you waited. And waited. And waited

Fucking hell, when is this man gonna look at his phone?

You had sent him a text that was meant to be flirty, a little dirty, and definitely a hint at what you were hoping for later.

But as the minutes ticked by and he remained blissfully unaware, it was becoming increasingly clear that you might need to show him the text directly for him to understand just how horny you were at that moment.

So, you decided to take action.

“Babe can I have your phone?”

“Yeah sure whatever.”

Well that was easy. Green flag ig.

you opened his messages and noticed you were the most recent contact, complete with an adorable nickname he would never admit to using.

It made you smile, a warm flutter in your chest, but you quickly shook it off.

This was not the time for mushy feelings; you had a mission.

You tapped on your profile before shoving his phone in front of his face causing him to lean back slightly, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“..what are you doing?”

“Read.”

He gave you a puzzled look before his eyes scanned the message.

He’s pausing now.

He’s looking up at you.

And back down at the message.

“Why would you call it a sword?”

“Is that really what you’re focused on?”

“Well, yes, because I’m not sure if I should be offended or not…”

NSFW

“Are you mad at me?”

…

“Babe?”

You could feel your boyfriend's hand resting on your hip as you turned your back to him while lying on the bed.

You weren’t mad at him, of course not.

You weren't angry with him, not at all.

You simply had a lot of built-up sexual frustration.

It wasn't as if he could do anything about it; you would love for him to, but ultimately, it was his decision.

“…you wanna cuddlefuck?”

Never in your life did you expect to hear such words come from his mouth, especially in such a crude manner.

You quickly turned your head to look at him, still keeping your back turned.

“You for real?”

"Why not? I've been thinking about it for a while," he replied.

You could only gaze around in disbelief at this unexpected revelation.

Within seconds, he had you stripped down filled with his cock, teeth grazing your neck while his hand explored your body.

It was such an erotic scene it looked like the cover of a hentai, only less..graphic.

However, his thrusts were so lazy it only heightened your frustration, prompting you to take control.

Without warning, you began to grind against him, eliciting a deep moan from his lips.

“Ngh..H-hey..at least fucking warn me when your gonna d-do that..”

Warn him my ass.

If he was going to moan like that, you certainly weren't going to! Who would?

Let’s just say your night ended with both of you cuddling up with each other and a bunch of smooches and allat stuff.

Goodnight.

Characters: kuroko, GIYUU, Sanemi, kageyama, SUNA, MEGUMI, BELPHAGOR, Todoroki, Shinso, Wriothesley, Liaos (any character you like)

[robo-writing]

I saw your requests were open, so I have to ask for… pain 😔

Can I request a Logan x afab!reader HCs or full fic about how reader is getting older and he kinda isn’t yk? Like going from when they first met, to readers deathbed, and how he has to live without them for the rest of his life 🫶🫶

Also take care of yourself DRINK WATER 🥰

Oh yeah, it’s angst time.

It's sooner than later that you'll be alone Synopsis: You live a long life, but not as long as Logan's. Warnings: 3.2k words of gut-wrenching angst, mentions of blood, grieving someone after they're gone Author's note: Hope you're happy anon, I cried five times writing this <3

He had first met you in your twenties—twenty-three, to be exact.

Young, bright eyed, naive. You were kind, where he was not. You were hopeful, where he was jaded and angry at the world. He loved your innocence, how you always saw the best in others—suppose that’s what made you such a good counselor to the children. You listened—really, truly listened—made anyone that walked through your office doors feel welcomed.

Maybe that’s why he found his way to you. When the nightmares wouldn’t let him sleep and the voices wouldn’t let him think, he shuffled to your bedroom door without a goal in sight, bare feet padding against the polished floors. His knuckles meet your door, seconds passing by before he asks himself why the hell he’s even here in the first place.

Before he could walk away he heard your feet shuffling, followed by the click of your doorknob.

He felt guilty for waking you up, eyes red and face puffy, but you didn’t even question why he was at your door, just rubbed your eyes and opened the door wider for him to walk in.

It was silent at first. You offered him some water, passed him a blanket, and just sat there. You never pressured him to speak, and he didn’t feel compelled to. Maybe five minutes later he said something and you just nodded in his direction, encouraging him to continue.

For the first time in a long time, he talked. And you listened.

It became a ritual between the two of you, staying up late at night just to chat. It wasn’t always about his past, sometimes he just needed to let it all out, and you were the perfect outlet. He felt like you didn’t judge him, and that’s all he ever needed.

Eventually he wanted to hear you too—he preferred it that way. Talking about lesson plans and movies, little things that seem mundane but made him feel less like a patient and more like a friend. You were a welcome distraction, and an added bonus was that you were really cute when you were talking.

He was the one who made the first move. He remembers every detail, from your pajama shorts to the over-worn tank top sliding off your shoulder, your eyes bright as you went on about a new baking recipe you wanted to try. Sat on your bed, looking so relaxed he couldn’t help but stare and marvel at your beauty.

“Logan?” You ask, waving your hand in his face. “Hello? Earth to Wolverine?”

The moment you called out his name he was already making his way to your bed. The mattress sinks beneath his weight, and you let out a soft noise of surprise before he plants his lips against yours.

Yours are soft compared to him—everything about you screams softness, innocence and purity, and he’s not sure if a man like him even has the right to be next to you, much less kiss you. He’s certain his soul is filthy, tainted—a layer of black that’s sure to muck up your own if he keeps this up. He knows this deep in his heart, but greedy man that he is, he keeps his lips locked to yours.

Once, and then never again. He can’t be with a girl like you, and he knows it.

You hold him by the neck and pull him back when he tries to leave your embrace. Maybe it’s pity, he thinks, the way your hands tug him by the shirt and cling onto the fabric. Maybe you’re only entertaining him, stringing him along just to laugh in his face, mock him into ever thinking he had a chance. If you are, he doesn't care, because at least now he’s got a taste of what he could never have.

The two of you finally separate, a silk-thread of spit connecting the both of you, looking at each other with a mixture of shock and confusion. What happens after this? How does he return to what you had before—how can he, when he now knows your chapstick tastes like cherries?

He makes a move to leave, but against all odds your hand is still clinging onto his shirt. In that moment he knew he was the luckiest man alive because you begged him to stay in that cute voice of yours, begged him not to leave when his hands made their way up the front of your shirt—begged him for more when his lips wandered lower.

By your thirties you already had a shiny ring on your finger, one that he can say he proudly put on your finger. A gold band adorned by diamonds, it shines in the orange light of the sun, staring at you from its red-velvet housing. 

It’s the first time the X-Men see him cry, tears running down his face when you run into his arms screaming yes, yes, over and over as he holds you in his arms, sunset illuminating your features. He always thinks of you as beauty personified, but watching you admire the diamond-studded band with awe—the one thing that signifies you as his—he can’t help but look at you like icarus does to the sun.

The wedding was small—neither of you minded. Hank was the ringbearer, and Charles walked you down the aisle, and when your vows were said and done the priest could barely finish the ceremony before Logan lunged forward and kissed you, dipping you at the altar accompanied with a cheer from the people you consider your family.

Scott has the video saved on his phone. He pretends it pisses him off, but he had Jean send him a copy later. Sometimes he watches it when he thinks you’re asleep, but little does he know you are very much awake.

In your fourties’ you have a house together, somewhere upstate where no one can bother you. A cozy wooden home where it’s just you and him, relaxing by the fireplace and watching tv every day. When he’s not helping the X-Men he works at a local lumber yard, the highlight of his day being when he comes to work, grabbing his equipment from the truck. 

His co-workers jeer at him every time, call him whipped like butter, but they wouldn’t understand what he feels. He certainly doesn’t seem to care, especially when it’s your kiss pressed to his cheek.

He can safely say his life is perfect. It’s domestic, it’s everything Logan ever dreamed of, everything he thought he could never have—and it’s all thanks to you. He wakes up every morning grateful to you for giving him the greatest gift he could ever receive: serenity. 

Between the fairytale ending and his rose-colored glasses, he doesn’t notice it, not until you’re in your fifties and he’s—he’s not.

You’re aging, and he’s staying the same.

You still love each other and he’d never, ever, think about leaving you, but the realization sticks with him. He thinks about it late at night while you sleep next to him, pressed against his side. Your scent, your touch, he memorizes it all because he doesn’t know when he won’t be able to feel it again.

In your heart you know it too, but you don’t say anything—you don’t want to scare him away. He’s only just begun to get used to normalcy, and you don’t want to take that away from him. You don’t want to watch him fall into the honeyed trap of isolation again, return to that shell of a man you only just helped him shed.

So when you’re watching tv together, he makes sure to cradle you to his chest extra tight. When you’re sitting by the fireplace, heat radiating off your skin, he makes sure to memorize the way the fire illuminates your face. When you’re whispering his name after a night of love-making he etches the sound deep into his synapses, memorizing each syllable.

No matter what, he’ll remember you.

By your sixties you’re faced with an awful truth, one neither of you want to admit but your smile lines and crows feet stand contrast to his barely aging face. You get stares when you mention he’s your husband, some curious, some judging. You were called a cougar once by a shopper, finger pointed accusatory while Logan told her in no uncertain terms to go fuck herself.

He was there to reassure you then, but he can’t be there all the time. You don’t tell him that this wasn’t the first time you were accused of being a predator, and you don’t plan on doing so. 

Maybe this counts as acceptance, faced with the truth in the worst kind of way, but at least the both of you can say it out loud now—

You’re going to die, and he’s going to outlive you. It’s just a fact, but it still makes the both of you terrified.

Your seventies are rocky—you want to enjoy the time you have left, but Logan wants to make sure you’re safe. In his eyes you know he has only love for you, but you can see the fear in them too, how he coddles you every day. Your bones are starting to ache, you’re getting slower. Where you used to go on hikes with him you now choose to stay home, your stamina not like what it used to be. He thinks you don’t notice how he watches you carefully around the house, how he’s so eager to help you. You’re flattered, but also annoyed—it’s a short-lived train of thought when you look at him.

He still looks at you like he did when you first kissed. 

He still loves you, and you still love him. For now, that’s all you need.

He finds you on the floor in your eighties—eighty-three, to be exact.

The moment he sees your resting form behind the counter he sprints into the kitchen. There’s broken glass, a trail of blood running from your temple, and you’re completely out of it, eyes closed shut. He calls your name, shakes you, but nothing. He knows you’re still alive, he can hear your heart beating but he can feel how weak it is under his clammy hands, the soft thump nowhere near as strong as it should be.

He doesn’t know what to do—he’s long since been familiar with blood but this time it’s you, and he’s panicking. He doesn’t know what to do.

The ambulance arrives, longer than usual because you live far away from the city. Maybe if they’d gotten there faster they would have been able to do an infusion. Maybe if the phone wasn’t so far you’d be able to call 9-1-1 before you passed out. Maybe if he was at home he would’ve been able to see the early signs—

“Sir? Are you alright?”

He looks at the clock on the bedside wall: 7:38 pm. 

It’s well into the night, five hours have passed since you were admitted, and an hour since you died.

He’s been staring at your body for who knows how long. The doctor pronounced you dead, said you had a heart attack and hit your head on the way down. An accident.

A fucking accident.

“Sir, was she related to you?” The young nurse asks, contemplating whether or not she should even speak. Wordlessly, he nods.

“I understand you’re grieving,” she continues, standing at his side. Her words are full of empathy, none of which he needs but lets her speak anyway. “I saw on your hospital logs you share the same name, I can’t imagine how it must feel to lose a loved one.”

He nods again.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how old was she?”

“…eighty-three.” He answers. “Her birthday was in a month.”

She shakes her head. “That’s a shame.”

“It sure is,” He says, reaching out to touch her hand. It’s cold to the touch, a cruel reminder. “It sure is.”

You would’ve been eighty-four now.

He still lives in the same house but it’s not the same without you. It’s lifeless, empty—all the love you poured into the decor now just an awful reminder of what he lost. He thinks about tearing it all down sometimes but he knows you’d probably kick his ass if he so much as touched your crystal vases.

Your side of the bedroom is untouched, he moved all his stuff to the separate one the week after you died. It hurts to sleep there knowing you’re gone, but sometimes he’ll sit by the nightstand, a drink in hand and stare at the empty spot where you would be. Sometimes if he stares hard enough, he can see you through tear-rimmed eyes, hear your laughter through the dull buzz of the alcohol.

He misses you. He’s not sure if he’ll ever stop.

He doesn’t know what possesses him, but he opens your closet. It’s an indulgence, a moment of weakness—he promised he wouldn’t touch your stuff and here he is, rummaging about. 

Coats, dresses, shirts, all memories flooding back to him as he moves past them. The black dress you wore on your first date, the sundress you wore for your anniversary—

When his fingers brush against the lace, his heart lurches. He doesn’t need to see it to know, but he tugs anyway, revealing your wedding dress hidden deep inside. The most beautiful thing you’ve ever worn.

He takes the gown between reverent hands, as if the fabric would fall apart, disintegrate if he was anything but cautious with it. It still smells like you.

He finds the box labeled “wedding” next to it, and without hesitation pulls it from its corner. Wedding invites, flowers, old videos, everything that you could have taken as a memory, you had it. You even kept the cake toppers.

What surprises him though, is a notebook. It’s tiny, leather bound and slightly worn, every page a new entry. He flips to the first page and his heart nearly stops.

Dear Logan,

If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead.

His eyes widened. When did you write this? The small book suddenly feels like lead in his hands, it’s a struggle to pull his eyes back to the ink-stained pages, but he does so anyway.

I hope I managed to give this to you before I pass. I wish I could explain to you how much I love you, and how much I worry about you. You’re a stubborn asshole, could never see the good in yourself but I did—I still do. I’ve known you for thirty years now so I’m willing to bet you’re probably reading this drunk, blaming yourself for my death.

He doesn’t know when he started crying but your words make him laugh through the pain, wiping the palm of his hand against his cheek. He used to say you were secretly a telepath, always able to read his mind. Seems it’s a talent that extends beyond the grave.

Anyway, rambling aside, I wanted to give you something to remember me by. You’re going to live longer than I am, we both know that: but maybe my memory can live along with you.

His hands are shaking, fingers stumbling through the next page with bated breath.

Entry one, not sure how I should start…I’ll figure it out later. Your beard grew out a little so I offered to help you shave…

I think I did a shit job but you didn’t seem to mind, or maybe you were trying to save my feelings? I don't know which one. In any case remember to take care of yourself, I might be gone but like hell if I’m gonna let you let yourself go!

Attached with a paperclip is a photo of the two of you in the bathroom, you smushing his face while he stares at the camera annoyed, or at least it seems. There’s a hint of a smile on his face.

He remembers that day. You were cuddling him and complained his beard was scratchy. He let you sit on his lap while you gave him a trim, you said your lines were crooked but he didn’t give a shit—he had you all to himself, and that’s all he needed.

A small huff of laughter escapes him, even in the afterlife you’re still bossing him around. He flips to the next page—

Entry two, don’t isolate yourself! I know you Logan, that lone wolf shit doesn’t work and you know it too! When’s the last time you talked to the other X-Men, huh?

Your words rattle in his head, feelings of guilt blooming. They call occasionally, but he never picks up. Charles is the only one he ever gave the time of day and even then the mention of your passing is a sore subject. One time Scott showed up at his house, helped him clean up a bit before leaving; he never said thank you.

His eyes flick to the phone on his nightstand before continuing to read. 

Entry three, don’t starve yourself! I left a couple of my recipes in the last pages, just in case you missed my cooking…

Entry four, I have a secret album of us on my phone. The password is…

Entry five, stop being so hard on yourself…

Entry after entry, all stories with advice for when you’re gone. Clean up after himself, don’t try to find peace at the bottom of a bottle, remember to find a hobby…every single page, accompanied by a description of what you did that day. Went hiking, went on a dinner date, stayed at home and watched tv—almost an entire year's worth of reminiscing in the form of a tiny brown journal.

By the time he got to the last one the sun had begun to rise. His eyes burned with exhaustion, but the thought of stopping never crossed his mind.

The big three-six-five, happy anniversary! It’s been a year since I started this project and I think I should end it here, so I’ll end it with the best advice I can give you.

Logan, you need to move on.

I know it hurts, but I’m gone, and you can’t spend your life chasing after a woman who isn’t here anymore. You deserve more in life than to grieve. I love you more than anything in the world, which is why I’m telling you it’s okay to move on.

I’ll always be with you, so don’t think that you need to feel guilty. I know you love me, and I love you.

I’m giving you permission to forgive yourself, and let me go.

He re-reads your words. Once, twice, even three times before they really sink in. I’m giving you permission to forgive yourself, and let me go.

At that moment it all comes crashing down on him. Your death, the funeral, the pain and longing, the grief—all of it. Everything he’d ever tried to push aside by drinking, culminating into this single release of emotion.

He cries. A full-bodied, pathetic display, he sobbed while holding your last memory to his chest until he was red in the face, until his lungs burned. He sobbed until he had no more tears to give, then sobbed some more.

Even in death, you were still listening.

[userunknowenha]

Just stay

Pairing: Lee Heeseung x reader

Description: You came to see your boyfriend after an excessive week of finals for both of you, obviously you have missed him and he has missed you too but he seems to be missing more to play games with his friends instead of being with you so you do everything to make him pay attention to you.

Warnings: smut!!, making out, grinding, begging, a tad of exhibitionism (they do it while in a call), bondage (he ties her hands), spanking.

Disclaimer: lol I didn’t know how to finish it my bad.

“Hello handsome”, you purred out the greeting to your boyfriend once he opened the door to his place. Both of you being excited to see each other without having to worry about studying; even if it was just for a bit but still enjoying; rapidly moving in between his arms, Heeseung hugs you and immediately starts attacking all your face with kisses, you can hear the slurred words of ‘I missed you’, ‘you look so pretty’, ‘I love kissing you’, in between the kisses.

Giggling at his affection you returned all of the kisses as well, both of you laughing in love at each other. Some people might say that the two of you are dramatic, you guys did see each other during the week but it was mostly a tiny meet up to have breakfast or dinner and then going back to study, after all none of you wanted to fail.

Once inside the two of you decided to just lay down while catching up, nothing really exciting, mostly bickering about how hard was your statistics exam and how almost you forgot the formulas that you were supposed to use and how he got scared when Jay mentioned a whole chapter that he didn’t study and at the end it didn’t came in the exam.

After chatting up for hours you both were on your phones, scrolling mindlessly on social media, while being still cuddle to each other, on one hand he had his phone and the other was playing with your hair playing with it making you feel drowsy, the minutes passed when you were already feeling like closing your eyes and that’s exactly what you did.

“Fuck you! You are trash!”, exalted at the sound, you stirred up from your dreams after hearing your boyfriend yell, “It’s like you don’t even want us to win at how bad you are playing Jake!”, growly turning around you look at Heesung who is sitting at this gaming chair, with headphones on top of his head, playing some games on his computer with his friends you assumed after calling them trash. You don’t mind your boyfriend playing games but waking you up is something that does make you mad.

Lazily you turn your body and sit up, planning of going up to him to tell him to be quiet but taking a better look at him to noticed that he is shirtless, only wearing sweatpants, his hair is pushed out of his face, he is wearing the ring that he got you two as a forever promise of staying together and on his wrist he is wearing a simple bracelet you got him on his last birthday, damn your boyfriend is hot, and just by looking at him you can feel yourself subconsciously pressing your thighs together.

“Are you stupid or something? Why would you do that!”, the two of you have share to each other that you like dirty talk in sex, usually Heeseung is the sweetest boyfriend you could ever ask for, loving and caring and you absolutely love him for that, you love even more how he degrades you on bed, switch ping his personality completely, leaving you dizzy.

“Ugh! It’s the same team again, they are fucking useless”, your plan of going to shut him up has you now twitching in his bed from need, just by him insulting other people, he tends to get to into the game but right now you don’t know why he has you so needy.

“Yeah, you can talk shit when you are good at this Hoon”, “Do they even think?”, “Fuck! Yea! Fucking finally”, slowly but surely you decide to finally approach him, but this time without the intention of shutting him up. Quietly you touch gently his arm trying to make him look at you, he jumps a bit obviously not expecting it, “Oh? Did I wake you up? Sorry love”, you shook your head at his questioning, while it was true that he did wake you up right now that didn’t matter.

You lean closer to kiss him gently on the lips, bringing yourself back you ask, “Can I sit on your lap?”, he gently moves your body so that you sit comfortably on top of him, he loves when you sit on top of him, in any occasion not only while he plays, “I can be quiet if you want me to”, biting your bottom lip while smiling you shake your hand again before grabbing the mic on his headphones pulling it upwards, successfully muting it you reach to grab one side of the same pulling it to the side you lean closer to whisper, “I don’t mind, I love listening you yell at them all kind of degrading stuff, like all the stuff you tell me”.

Heeseung can barely focus anymore, he tries his best at paying attention to the screen in front of him but the way that you are grinding all over his lap, he finds it difficult. After you told him the reason why you don’t mind his screaming he couldn’t just not clasp his hands around your face pulling you for a quick intense make out, “Hee, bro? Are you still there?”, frowning his eyebrows ignoring them, he deepened the kiss taking your hair in his hands, “Dude what the fuck? Answer!”, “Yeah! The match is beginning fucker! Hurry up!”, thanks to the proximity between the two of you you were able to hear all his friends screaming for him, pushing him, huffing in between breaths you tell him, “Go on, play with them”.

He normally speaks in between games but this time he is afraid of letting out some noise and showing his friends what’s going on. You on the other hand find it difficult as well to keep silent, with one hand gripping onto his chair arm and the other one on top of your mouth, covering it, preventing any loud noise.

As much as he just wants to bend you over his table, he likes seeing you desperate on top of him, “Dude! You were crying that we are trash and you almost got us killed right now”, “f-fuck, sorry bro…didn’t even see where they came from…”, huffing out he freezes when he feels you hump into him even deeper than before, turning to look at you he lets out a tiny ‘fuck’ at the look of your face, gripping so hard into your mouth, eyes rolling back, eyebrows scrunched up in concentration, looking down on your body he sees your hips moving forward and downwards, in circles, even jumping a little, “Heeseung! You fuck!”, directing his gaze back to the computer he notices his character laying down on the ground dead, “Stupid ass”.

Heeseung takes this opportunity to pull both of you up, not before pressing the mute button, he sits you on the table and he grabs something from your right, not even having time to analyze anything. You feel his strong hands tugging your arms behind your back and feel something tight around them. Pulling you both back on his chair but this time he pulls down his sweats and pulls out his dick, pushing your panties to the side he teases your entrance a bit with his tip and finally pushes in.

He doesn’t fucks you though, “You are going to be a good little slut and let me finish this game, alright?”, whining in protest you grind your hips but a harsh slap on your butt makes you stop, “You don’t want me to punish you? Do you?”, “No Hee, I’m sorry”, he kisses you gently before giving you a last glare of warning and going back to his game.

“If we lose again because of you I’m leaving”, “Relax princess, I just got distracted last round, now I’m back”

What felt like hours to you were just three more rounds for Heeseung, each time he degraded someone in the game you felt yourself get wetter and by consequence you felt even needier. Finally you turn that he was waiting in the lobby while laughing at something his friends said, you moved your hips forward, eyes rolling back at the friction of your clitoris against his pelvis, without thinking you did it again, grinding even harder this time, you would be surprised if the mic didn’t caught how wet your cunt sounded.

“You better stop”, not even realizing when he muted you can only whine in protest, not being able to touch him or yourself, while cockwarming him felt torture.

“P-Please Hee!”, another spank that has you gasping for air but also bucking your hips in need, ‘slap!’, again, and once more before you yell out, “Ugh! ‘M sorry! Sorry! I won’t move!”, humming in satisfaction at your conduct he brings one hand to cup your face, “One round more and I will fuck you, okay?”

Such a fucking liar, you know it’s been more than just one round and you can’t hold it even more, not caring if his friends hear you, you bounce on his cock without a warning, his size always making you stretch out and always have you screaming out in pleasure.

He rapidly directs his hands to stop you but deep down he doesn’t want to stop you, you continue bouncing on top of him, moaning and whining for him to do something, “P-Please! Hee I was good wasn’t I? Please fuck me!”, “fuck it, alright baby, let me fuck you”.

Standing up once again he bends you over his table, some items falling down but none of you care, you squeak in surprise but he does something that makes your body heat rise in embarrassment, he places his headphones on top of your ears, you notices the mic is down, “Yea slut, let them hear you, how good I fuck you”, even if his treatment turns you on, you try to be silent on the mic but once he thrust inside you with force you can help but let out a loud whine.

Now not only you hear your boyfriends groans and growls but you hear other three pairs, they are low but enough to be heard, it being also enough for you to clench down on Hee’s length.

“Yeahhh, you love it don’t you? Tell them how much you love my cock”, refusing you try to shake the device out of your head but your boyfriend catching up quick, brings down his large hand and puts them in place, the other hand spanking you once again, letting out a loud mewl at the contact, “Do it slut, I asked you to do something and you do it”, “I-I love your cock Hee…”

Your voice comes out low and shy but the guys on the other side of the call seem to hear just fine, especially when Jake lets out a whine upon hearing your voice, “Tell them sorry for interrupting our game babe”, “I’m s-so sorry I interrupted y-you guys!”, Heeseung seemed to be loving this, thrusting even faster into you, deeper even.

How you wish your hands were not tied up so you could cover your mouth but you know that in this situation you are not up to making demands, “Ask them if they can hear how wet you are for me”, “Can y-you guys hear, Ah!, how, Hee!, wet I a-am?”, his pace makes it almost impossible for you to even think but you are his good girl and you obey him.

Groans can be heard from the call and you gasp in surprise when you hear Jay’s voice say, “You sound sooo wet, fuck!”, “Nghh!”, your body betrays you when you feel your pussy getting wetter at the sound of his voice but even when you didn’t except them, the other two males in the call join him, “Yea baby, you like how he fucks you?”, “Were you all needy since we started playing?”, “Agh! y-yes!”, your boyfriend chuckles behind you, bringing down one last spank to your perky butt prior to directing his hand to your clitoris, “Hee! Fuck, n-no!”.

“Hmm? Why not? You love it when I play with your clit”, writhing underneath him, moaning and whining, loving how your boyfriend thrusts are hard into you, leaving you seeing stars, his hand on your clit making it impossible for you to even formulate coherent words, he knows your body, he knows you are close and he himself isn’t that far behind.

“Come o-on sweetheart, ask them if you can cum”, “P-Please! Guys, can I-I cum? Please please!” The three guys in the call are envious of how you are such a good girl for Heeseung, they can’t see you but how you sound and how even your pussy sounds they know you are perfect, some of them even loving how Heeseung sounds over the call.

“Please! I’m so close I can’t hold it!”, “Fuck! Go on pretty”, “Yes, cum all over his cock”, “Fuck how I wish I could you see you cum”

Your eyes rolling back, sweating all over your forehead and body, you feel your boyfriend lean down close to your ear, “Go ahead baby, cum with me”, screaming out in pleasure you let the knot fall, cumming hard and even your knees buckle down on how dumb and sensitive the orgasm lets you. Your boyfriend is not that far behind once he feels your walls clenching he pushes deep in you, his release dripping into you.

Rolling his hips a few times, extending both of your climaxes. With one last breath you say into the mic, “Thank you…”

[thehauntedetheral]

Yandere Husband x Depressed Reader

Request are open.

You were so happy at the starting of summer. As a teacher you were happily spending your summer break relaxing in your house with your husband yan. No students, no lectures, no annoying colleagues. Just you, your house, the summers and your loving husband. The perfect summer.

But soon your perfect relaxing summer turned into a nightmare. Why?

Because your grandma died. What's the big deal? Every old person die someday.

But it is a huge deal to you. Because you were greatly attached with your grandma. You spent all your childhood and teenage days with her. She babysit you while your parents worked.

Most of your memories consisted of her. You and your grandma cooking, baking, gossiping, watching shows, going on walks. She was a cool chill grandma who supported you with everything.

She was your grandma, mother, friend, everything. And now she is gone. She passed away due to old age.

You were planning to spend this summer break with her as every other. But now nothing.

The person who has been there with you since you were born is no more. This broke your heart. You loved your grandma a lot.

The funeral happened, people gave their condolences, everything just flew while you were filled with grief, sadness.

What once you envisioned as a perfect summer was now nothing but a ugly reality.

Nowadays you just cry, stare at spaces, and lie in your bed while recalling all your memories with her. You wished you should have spent more time with her.

Seeing you like this broke your husband's heart. He knew how attached you were to your grandma. He just can't sit around and watch you filled with sadness. So now he has taken upon him to cheer you up.

• This man has been cooking your favourite dishes.

• Making sure your favourite icecream and snacks are stocked.

• Trying his best to make you laugh or smile by his humour.

• Bringing you flowers.

• Forcing you to go out with him on walks, picnics, dates.

"Y/n you can't just rot in the house all day. Look how beautiful the day is. Let's go out"

• Binge watching with you cheesy rom coms even though he hates them.

• Playing board games or uno with you.

• Calling over your friends to spend time with you and cheer you up when he is away at work.

• This man tries his best to be their for you.

• Constantly tells you that "I am there for you" " You can vent to me all you want".

• Takes you in his arms while you are crying and tries his best to console you.

• Listens to everything you are saying while crying.

• Reads everything on how to support your spouse when their grandparent pass away. And follows the instructions.

• Brings your favourite deserts.

• Makes sure you take your meals. As you have been neglecting them recently.

• "You know she is always there with you. Watching over you. She loves you a lot. She won't want you to cry over her like this. " Yan would say things like this to make you feel better.

Days went by and you felt better as yan, your friends and parents cheered you up. You were so grateful for having them in your life. Especially Yan. He took care of you at your lowest like a baby.

You were on a walk with yan or more specifically yan dragged you out with him out for a walk while saying "Let's get some fresh air. Being all day in house is not so good."

While walking hand in hand with yan you felt overwhelmed with thinking how much he helped, listened, pampered, supported you while you were in grief.

"Thank you for everything. " You said to him while feeling so lucky to have him in your life as your husband.

"Through Better and worse" Yan said making you remember your wedding vows making you smile.

Suddenly You remember your grandma words which she said to you at your wedding about yan.

"He is so badly in love with you. I am so happy you found such a good person for yourself."

Guess, she was absolutely right.

For more yandere reading :

[bratscave]

IN ANOTHER LIFE !

summary. falling in love with an old! driver, who's name was james while you were still in college was one thing — but finding out that he was wolverine after his death and meeting another version of him, was another.

includes/warnings. chapter two yay :), lots of flashbacks (omg they were so in love it hurts so bad), sex implied / lightly described once, she finds out about his death :/, laura!

Logan, as you knew him back then, liked to take walks with you. He just knocked on your door, hands stuffed into his jacket pocket, stayed silent and waited for you to gather your stuff to go outside. Didn't really talk much during it either, he'd rather listen to you, always.

And when you reached out for his hand, he didn't say anything, just let you. You'd sit down on bench and talk about the current drama going on with your friends and he'd smoke a cig and nod along. It wasn't much but it was comfortable.

You liked looking at sunsets, the pastels when it was late noon, various shades of yellow, orange and red. He wasn't the type of man who admired sunsets — at least, not before you.

You weren’t sure when it had happened, but at some point, Logan had started staying the night. It was never planned — he’d just show up after dark, looking more worn out than usual, and before you knew it, he was in your bed, holding you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

One of those nights, you were lying in bed, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. His hand was in your hair, his fingers lazily combing through the strands as you traced patterns on his skin with your fingertips.

“Tell me something,” you said softly, your voice barely breaking the quiet. “Something I don’t know about you.”

Logan was silent for a long moment, his hand stilling in your hair. You could feel the tension in him, the way his muscles tightened beneath your touch.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he muttered, his voice rough, like it hurt to say the words.

You lifted your head, propping yourself up on your elbow to look at him. His face was in shadow, but you could still see the hard lines of his jaw, the weight he carried. “I know,” you whispered, your heart aching for him. “But I want to.”

He swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “You don’t wanna know,” he said quietly. “Trust me.”

You frowned, but you didn’t push. You never did.

Instead, you leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, your lips brushing against the scruff of his beard. “I’m not goin’ anywhere,” you whispered, your breath warm against his skin.

And you stayed true to your words, you didn't go anywhere. You stayed waiting for him, waiting for him when you found a small sticky note saying 'I'll be gone for a little while. Don't worry bout me.' in his usual gruff writing. And you stayed waiting for him, a week and a half, ten days.

And you had hope, fucking hope that it was going to be James, or well as you later found out- logan, behind the door, when it rang at midnight.

Instead you were greeted by a girl, no older then thirteen.

Logan used to like kissing you good night, always came around if he drove by your apartment complax while on his shift because you 'needed to go to bed, well kissed'

Logan used to like having his hand on your thigh when he was driving, he'd rub small circles and patterns over the clothed skin. Sometimes, when you were rambling about something, he’d squeeze it gently, like it was his way of saying he was listening, even when he wasn’t saying a word.

Logan used to wake up before you, his heavy, calloused fingers tracing the curve of your spine, slow and careful, like he didn’t want to wake you but couldn’t help himself from touching you. If you stirred, he’d mutter something gruff under his breath —“go back to sleep, kid”—but there was no missing the warmth in his voice, the tenderness in the way he pulled you closer.

Logan used to make love to you like it was a slow burn, always taking his time, even when he was in a hurry. He’d kiss you deeply, rough hands holding your hips in place as he moved, like he wanted to savor every second. Afterward, you’d lie tangled together in the sheets, your fingers tracing the lines of his body, and he’d grunt something sinful under his breath.

Logan used to bring you coffee on mornings when he had nowhere else to be. He didn’t say much, just handed you the cup with that same gruff expression, watching as you sipped it, his eyes softer than usual. When you’d smile and say thanks, he’d shrug it off like it was no big deal, but you knew better. It was his way of saying he cared.

Logan used to call you late at night, usually after a long shift. His voice would be rough, heavy with exhaustion, but he’d still ask about your day. “Tell me somethin’ good,” he’d mutter, like the sound of your voice was the only thing keeping him grounded. Sometimes, he’d fall asleep with the phone still in his hand, the steady sound of his breathing a quiet comfort on the other end of the line.

"Logan is dead."

The girl's voice got you out of your trance as you looked down to meet her eyes, she had very intense ones, what was such a young child doing out late at night? But you don't question just brush her remark of, "Sorry, I don't know a Logan."

"He said you might say that. I need to tell you something."

You spend the whole night on the coach, the same coach where you and.. logan, shared your first kiss and more. Is now the same coach you sit on and find out that he died. That he was some sort of hero, that he had tried changing his identity.

You cry, ugly ugly tears. A shit ton of them. You try your damn best not to, in front of the kid, laura as you now knew it, but you couldn't keep it in. Logan didn't like it when you cried, said it wouldn't get you nowhere, but rested his hand on your back, going up, down, up, down in the same pattern over n' over again to calm you down, in quiet support no matter what it was.

Now your back was cold.

Time moved like it always does — quickly, harshly, without much care for your grief. Before you knew it, months, years had passed. Laura didn’t leave, and you never asked her to. She stayed, silently adjusting to your small apartment and even smaller routines. You weren’t exactly maternal, but something about her—something in the way she’d sit quietly on the edge of the couch, watching those old cartoons Logan always scoffed at: made you feel less lonely.

She didn’t talk much at first. But you understood. Words weren’t always necessary, and you’d never been one to push someone to speak when they weren’t ready. You learned to share the silence, learned that she needed space just like you did.

Life was different now. You’d finished what you set out to do —graduated, finally became the professional you always wanted to be. Journalism, like you’d always dreamed of, except the joy wasn’t there, not the way it used to be. The thrill of chasing stories and deadlines had dulled, the passion that once fueled you replaced by a quiet, steady determination. You wrote because it was what you were good at. Because it paid the bills. Because it gave Laura stability.

And she needed that. More than anyone, she needed a steady life—a soft place to land, to heal, even if neither of you said it out loud.

Sometimes, when you caught a glimpse of her sitting at the table, head bent over some math homework, you’d see pieces of him in her. The same furrowed brows when she was deep in thought. The quiet way she watched the world, always alert but never speaking too much.

You missed him. It never got easier, not really. When it got really bad, you’d sit in the small kitchen, nursing a drink and staring out the window. You could almost imagine him coming through the door, smelling faintly of motor oil and cigarettes, grumbling about something while he kicked off his boots.

But he never did. And you told yourself you’d learn to live with that.

Well, apperantly life had other plans for you, besides drowning in misery.

It had been late — too late for visitors. The kind of hour where the streets outside your apartment were dark and empty, the faint hum of city life muted through the window. You were pouring yourself another cup of tea, trying to wind down from a long day at work. Laura was in her room, tucked away, buried under her blankets as usual.

A knock came at the door.

It startled you; mostly because no one ever came by this late. You set your mug down and padded across the floor, wondering if maybe Laura had ordered something again, some late-night doordash she hadn’t mentioned.

You opened the door. And froze.

The world felt like it tilted sideways for a moment, because there he was. Logan. He looked different, rougher in a way, a little younger than you’d ever seen him. But those eyes, those same dark, stormy eyes — they were unmistakable.

His voice was rougher, too, when he spoke, like it had been scraped against gravel.

“Wade told me I could find you here.”

[ericscroptop]

Wasted On You

✧ pairing: bf! jeno x gf! reader

✦ genre: fluff

✧ warnings: tipsy/drunk reader, mentions of food and eating, kisses/kissing, teasing, pet names, cursing, one playful spank, suggestive

✦ word count: 3.4k words

✧ synopsis: after a fun night out, your boyfriend takes care of you like the gentleman he is.

*ೃ༄·˚ ༘ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ *ೃ༄·˚ ༘ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ *ೃ༄·˚ ༘ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Overstimulated.

That’s how Jeno feels currently.

It had been weeks since you two went out with your close group of friends. Tonight, you all agreed to finally get together. There’s this small club you guys used to frequent, so that’s where you all met up.

Although the club was small, it was decently packed right now; it shouldn’t be a surprise considering it is a Friday night after all.

Upbeat and sensual-sounding songs set the mood for the atmosphere. Sweaty bodies swayed to the music, many intoxicated from the alcohol swimming along their veins. Everyone is immersed in their own motives of the night, whether that be getting wasted, dancing like there’s no tomorrow, or finding a body to sleep with tonight.

Jeno takes a swig from his water bottle, trying to ignore how bored and cranky he was starting to become inside. It was always nice to come hang out with friends, but he’s afraid he’s gotten to the age and point of his life where he can’t bear being in a crowded social setting for too long.

He decided to stay sober tonight to be your designated driver. You on the other hand, have had a fair amount of drinks tonight. Since Jeno was driving tonight, you wanted to take advantage of this time to let loose with your friends.

After some dancing and mingling around, you guys found a booth and parked there to chit chat and drink. As the night progressed, Jeno started feeling restless. It’s midnight, and he believes he should be snuggled up in bed with you right now.

Meanwhile, you needed to pee for the nth time tonight, so you and some of your girlfriends went to the restroom. Jeno conversed with everyone else as normal while you guys were temporarily gone, but he just couldn’t help thinking that maybe it’s time to get going.

Luckily, it wasn’t long before you and the others came back. When you reached the booth, you plopped yourself in the empty spot next to Jeno, stumbling a little too hard against the seat with your back.

“Ooopsies!” you giggled, eliciting everyone else in the group to laugh and tease you for your drunkenness.

Your boyfriend instantly wraps an arm around you, rubbing your shoulder.

“Careful, girly. You okay?” he leans closer to you, eyeing you with genuine concern. Though, he couldn’t help the amused grin that creeps up on his face. A couple alcoholic drinks in you and you’re clumsier and gigglier than usual.

“I’m good.” you smiled, still laughing as you reached for Jeno’s water bottle, making sure to keep yourself hydrated.

“Think it’s time to go home, hm?” he voices right near your ear so you could hear him clearly in the midst of the noisy environment. After swallowing the water, you nod your head, agreeing that you two should head on out.

He perks up at that, eagerly rising from the seat with you following suit. You two begin bidding goodbye to your friends with hugs and handshakes, alongside them joking and insinuating you’re leaving for raunchy reasons.

Jeno gives them a deadpanned-look, followed by a playful elbow to one of your guys’ guy friends. You just blushed and chuckled shyly, jokingly telling them to shut up.

Within a minute, you’re leaving the club. A hand of his protectively claims residence over the small of your back, leading you out and keeping you close to him as you passed through the crowd.

Once you’ve made it onto the outside pavement, he grabs one of your arms to wrap it around his bicep, holding onto him while you walk inebriated so you have support and don’t trip over the uneven sidewalks.

It’s not long before you reach the parking lot and he spots his vehicle. He uses his free hand to fish out his keys from his pocket and unlocks it.

He leads you to the passenger side, kindly opening the door and letting you mosey on inside.

When seated, he grabs the seatbelt, pulling it over your body and leaning over to strap you.

Although the smile you tried to fight back ultimately presents itself over your features, you whined at his actions.

“I can put on my own seatbelt, Jen.”

He gives you a sympathetic look in return, smoothing a hand over your hair after he’s buckled you up.

“I know, baby. But I wanna make sure my passenger princess is safe.” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss against the flesh of your cheek.

“Want your shoes off?” he asks, leaving you to blush more red than the alcohol’s left you and utter a cute ‘please’ in response.

He happily removes your heels, making you sigh in relief at the feeling of your feet free after hours of wearing those pretty but painful shoes.

You thanked him and he finally shuts your door, treading towards his.

You play footsies with yourself as he starts the car and begins driving. Not even a minute into him driving, you’re made aware of needing food, hunger pains beginning to gnaw at your stomach. The drunchies are starting to hit.

“I’m so hungry I could throw up.” your face contorts, looking at Jeno with discomfort.

Surely Jeno doesn’t want you to puke (in his car especially), and he’d do anything for you, so he asks you what you’d like to eat.

You tell him to go to one of your favorite fast food restaurants that’s still open this late. And so, he’s now making a quick pit-stop to ensure your tummy is full before bed.

His right hand reaches over to rest on your exposed thigh, caressing your skin faintly while he drives. Jeno’s touches always have an effect on you, but because you’re so buzzed, his possessive hold has you squeezing your legs tightly together, tingling all over from his nurturing tendencies.

You could practically melt into a puddle from how sweet he’s being.

His hand stays there even while he orders for you at the drive thru, only removing it when he hands over the bag of warm food to you, taking it hungrily.

“God, i’m starving!” you dug in the bag for one of the things you asked for, not hesitating in taking a bite as he drives away from the restaurant.

He chuckles seeing you take an aggressive bite and doing a small happy dance at the taste, fond of you doing something as simple as eating.

When he stops at a red light, he turns his head right. Sensing him shift from your peripheral, you meet his gaze mid-chew.

“Want some?” you gesture at him with your food.

The shining street lights allow him to notice some sauce on the corner of your lips. It makes him chuckle again seeing you messily eat.

You hum in confusion at his laughter, eyes then slightly widening when he brings a thumb to the corner of your mouth.

“You got a little somethin’ there.” he swipes at your skin, wiping whatever mess you have on your face. Then, he surprises you when he brings his thumb to his mouth, sucking the sauce off.

He’s left you dumbfounded, scoffing before speaking. “Did you seriously just do that?” you say with food still in your mouth.

“Just cleaning you up.” he replies nonchalantly, redirecting his attention back to the road when the light changes to green.

“I’m not a baby.” you huff, continuing with eating.

Jeno takes a quick tickled glance at you. You’re sunken into your seat, laidback while you’re munching, legs almost man spreading even though you have a dress on.

It makes him prideful to see you comfortable enough to be like this around him. Although being intoxicated makes you lose your inhibitions anyways, you still trusted your boyfriend enough to act in a relaxed manner.

He was always a sweetheart towards you, and so you felt safe within his presence. You were lucky enough to have a good man by your side that puts up with you. Or how Jeno sees it, it was just him simply loving you— which was easy.

It was only natural for him to wanna pamper and protect you. Small acts of service is one of the ways he expresses his love for you. Even though you whined or teased him for it, he knows deep down that you really loved to be babied and taken care of.

“You’re my baby.” he tells you, bringing his free hand back to your thigh.

His response triggers a smile to your face, heart racing even though he makes you weak with his words.

The rest of the drive home, his hand doesn’t leave your thigh. You finish up your food as he drives, sharing mindless conversations and laughter to pass time.

Before you know it, you guys have arrived home.

Anxious to get inside and crash, you undo your seatbelt, grab your shoes, bag full of your food scraps and trash, and open your door before Jeno fully turns off the car. You’re about to get out but stop when he calls you out.

“Hey— don’t step on the ground. I’m coming over there.”

He shuts down the engine and swiftly walks around the car to get to you. You really don’t know why he needs to come to you. But you really should’ve known better when he leans to pick you up from the seat.

“Wait! What are y—you doing?!” you panic, fingers grasping hard onto the items you’re holding when Jeno seizes you from the rear. You manage to wrap your hands around his neck even with full hands, legs encircling his waist, trying your best to steady yourself.

Your boyfriend has no plans of letting you— his precious cargo— go. He never misses a moment to display to you how strong he really is, shutting the door with his elbow and carrying you inside with ease. All that time in the gym really paid off.

“I’m not letting you walk inside barefoot. The ground’s dirty and you can catch a cold like that.”

“You sound like my mom.” you snickered.

“Tch,” Jeno sounds out, then playfully smacks your behind.

The spank earns a gasp from you. “Lee Jeno!” you chewed out.

“Not the full government name.” he pretends to be offended, grinning to himself.

“Let me be nice to my girl, hm?” he coos while he starts opening the front door, still holding you while he unlocks it and brings you inside.

Once again, he shuts you up momentarily with his chivalry and charming words. You dot a kiss against his jawline, thanking him with your lips for his service, head resting against his shoulder while he locks the door behind him and slips out of his shoes.

He shuffles with you into the bedroom, laying you down gently onto the bed.

“Finally.” you sigh out, allowing Jeno to take the items in your hands and put them away in their respective places.

You close your eyes briefly and let out a yawn while Jeno begins to remove his outerwear.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, now. Gotta get you ready for bed.” he’s now left solely in his briefs, heading towards you.

He grabs your arms and pulls you carefully to sit up, making you groan groggily. When you open your eyes, the sight of his bare chest and necklace adorning his neck greets you.

Mentally, you’re salivating while admiring your boyfriend’s muscular body and the way the necklace sits pretty over his thick skin.

He smirks knowing what’s going on in that head of yours, hands directing towards your thighs to massage them.

“Let’s get you out of that dress.”

You put your hands over his larger ones, fingers stroking his knuckles.

“Damn, you wanna see my body that bad?” you tipped forward a bit, squeezing your breasts together to tantalize him.

He cocks his head, biting his lip. He can’t help the titter that leaves his throat, lowering his head to face the ground, shaking it slightly.

“You’re really trying me tonight, huh?” he exhales.

You just smile cheekily in response, removing your hands from his own and extend an arm out so Jeno can get you on your feet. Not that you really needed the extra help, but anything for extra contact with him.

As soon as you’re standing, you tug your dress all the way down your body and off, leaving you in your bra and panties. Seconds after, you face your back towards Jeno, asking him to undo the clasps of your bra. And so, he does effortlessly.

“Free at last.” you breathe out in relief, running your fingers along the underside of your breasts once the confining undergarment is off.

Jeno can’t help the blush and sheepish smile on his face, flustered to see your bare breasts— even though he’s seen them dozens of time. It was rather difficult to keep his thoughts PG and control his manhood when he saw you like this.

He is a man after all. And you are exceptionally beautiful.

“Want one of my shirts?” he asks you and snaps out of his thoughts before they become carnal.

You hug yourself endearingly, nodding with a gentle smile.

He walks over to the closet and one of the drawers to grab one of his oversized shirts and a pair of sweats for him. He throws the pants on the bed and you stand there as he tugs his shirt over you, arms wiggling to slip into the arm holes.

The shirt falls past your behind just a tad, and the sleeves are baggy, figure being swallowed by his scent. You feel the most comfortable like this, and your boyfriend believes you look so dainty and lovely in his shirt.

Another yawn slips past you, and you pout, tiredly dropping your body on the mattress again. “Too lazy to take off my makeup.”

“I’ll do it for you, girly.” He says like nothing, walking to the spot in which you kept your makeup removal products. In less than a minute, he comes back to you, seating himself next to you.

You adjust yourself into a criss-cross position, inching closer to Jeno. Facing him and being directly in front of him, it’s hard to not grin from ear to ear. Especially when he pulls out a makeup wipe and gently starts going over your skin with it, very kindly to not damage your face or tug hard.

Watching how zeroed in he is on wiping your face clean makes you want to coo at him for how concentrated he is, being delicate with his movements.

“You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.” you practically whispered, overwhelmed with love in the way he’s treated you all night— and every other day since you’ve known him.

Your sudden words have Jeno stop his movements for a moment, staring at you with warmth in his eyes. He brings an index finger to your cheek and gives you feathery strokes with the back of it.

His eyes staring intently at you makes you want to fleet your own away, but you can’t. His gaze is too compelling; your lips part vaguely, mind captured by the faintest touch and his entrancing look.

“I’d do anything for you. You deserve everything, baby. Believe me.” he utters, his words making it feel like your heart’s skipping beats.

And if that wasn’t enough, he leans his mouth into the tip of your nose, kissing it.

Your face scrunches at his affection, squealing inside that you can’t believe this is real life. He’s currently looking at you like you’re the only person that matters. Tending to you willingly and saying all these darling things.

Even with you most likely having raccoon eyes since removing your makeup is still a work in progress, he still praises and thinks highly of you.

Although it’s undeniable your boyfriend is the sweetest human being, the situation is comical to you. Especially since you were still tipsy, his actions have you releasing small giggles, trying to restrain them, but you can’t help yourself.

At times you were unserious— more so if you’ve had alcohol. Plus, sometimes with Jeno’s affection, all you can do is giggle shyly.

“What’s so funny?” he smirks, pressing his lips to one of your cheeks and the corner of your mouth.

At this rate, your cheeks are gonna ache tomorrow from laughing and smiling so much. His lips spreading butterfly kisses across your face continues to evoke fuzzy feelings, your eyes shut while he lavished you with physical affection.

“Nothing.” you make an effort to revert back to calm your feelings, trying to play it cool.

Though, he retracts his lips from your skin and sends you a pointed look. In return, you have a wobbly smile, still attempting to be relaxed but your boyfriend makes you go silly.

“Seriously! It’s nothing, Jen. You know how I am. Just keep going so we can go to bed!” you laughed and whined, a hand of yours striking against the bed sheets, flustered by him.

It’s now Jeno’s turn to laugh at your ruffled state. He clicks his tongue and does as told, going back to working on getting whatever makeup remains off your face. He knows the effect he has on you, anyways— to a degree under your current state.

It doesn’t take long for him to finish wiping and patting your face.

“Thank you, baby.” you met your lips halfway with his to kiss him.

“No problem.” he hums. He then starts to get off the bed, collecting the used makeup wipes and other things to discard of them and put your products back. When he sees you not move an inch, he reminds you that you should go to the bathroom to work on your night routine before settling into the bed.

You groan but nonetheless, you sluggishly stroll towards the bathroom, glancing at Jeno with a utterly weary expression— to which, he just sneers.

It doesn’t take long for you to wrap up your small tasks before sleeping. Though, there were small pauses and bumps along the way. Entailing you emptying your bladder one last time with a dopey smile and zoning out, getting a pearl of toothpaste on your (Jeno’s) shirt and mumbling curse words as a result, and getting distracted with posing in the mirror and picking at your face.

When you leave the bathroom, Jeno is wearing those pants he picked out earlier, patiently waiting for his turn to use it.

“I got toothpaste on your shirt.” you sulked, showing your boyfriend the spot that’s been stained.

“Who’s surprised?” he jokes, shaking his head while he tries to walk past you to use the bathroom, but is stopped by your hand grabbing his.

You tug his hand and look at the bed, wanting him to join you now. Jeno’s eyes soften, his free hand reaching underneath your shirt to drag along your hip.

“Go lay in bed, girly. You know I don’t take long. I’ll meet you there.” he assures you, and so you guys part.

You crawl into bed and get comfortable under the covers while he completes his own night routine. Shifting and shuffling around in bed, you huffed and hummed to yourself, impatient as ever and refusing to unwind until Jeno’s body was resting next to yours.

His movements are swift though and he’s out in no time. Your feet tickled together excitedly and the covers were brought to your chin as you looked at him while he shut off the lights and inched into bed.

Once he got into bed, he extended out one of his muscular arms and you scooted closer towards him, placing your head over his bicep. There was no better pillow than Jeno’s arm. And he willingly offered it to you because there was nothing better than you loving and appreciating his beefy biceps and wanting to be close to him in order to sleep peacefully.

You faced him and curled up into his broad chest, still using his arm as a head rest.

“Missed you.” you murmured, nosing his chest before pressing a kiss over it.

His heart gushes at that, smiling while he kisses the top of your head, free hand going to rub circles along your side.

“Missed you, more. As much as I love hanging with our friends, I need time with just my baby.”

“I love you, handsome.” you place a hand protectively over his abdomen, engulfed in adoration for Lee Jeno.

“And I love you more, pretty girl.” his hand moves to cover the top of yours, not being able to resist.

Eventually, the warmth from each other’s bodies within the sheets lulls you both to sleep, soft snores and breaths filling the silent room.

The simpler things like slumbering with your man carries so much importance and an unequivocal amount of joy to your life.

*ೃ༄·˚ ༘ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ *ೃ༄·˚ ༘ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ *ೃ༄·˚ ༘ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

[destinyisastar]

Lost in your Love pt 4

Read Part: 1 2 3

Summary: After the day's events Alastor decides to go visit his beloved friend to see if she has any answers.

Vox x Reader, (Alastor x Reader)

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Alastor runs his hands over the panel, fiddling with the switches, his head pulsing. He needs time to think, needs his questions answered. Anyone will do! Of all the thoughts to pass through his mind an idea is finally presented in his head.

Rosie!

Why hadn’t he thought of that before?!

With smile on his face Alastor makes his way to the wonderful cannibal town.

The emporium is full as always, the line is out the door, children sinners press their faces on the windows drooling, the women gossip while eating pinky fingers, men are chatting about nothing too interesting.

There among the crowd of people hovering over her was the delightful Rosie.

Alastor made his presence known by letting out a few static sounds.

Roise perks up her head, “Alastor? Oh, Alastor is that you?! My, my where have you been?!” Rosie stands up from her seat making her way over to him, arms ready to hug him. “Have you been eating?! You’re looking more flimsy than usual dear!” she giggles.

“I’m doing just fine my friend! I’ve just been busy with a new project!”

“Why that’s good to hear! Come sit, sit I’m sure you have much to discuss!” She brings him over to a table.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay to long, I just have some questions, and I was wondering if you may be able to answer them.”

“I’ll doing anything I can my friend!” She sits in her chair, sipping her teacup.

Alastor takes a breath while he sits down, “Have you heard from my wife lately?”

Rosie spits out her tea, she begins to cough rapidly, punching her chest, “I’m sorry, but what do you mean your wife?”

“Yes, my wife, Y/n, have you spoken to her?”

“Wife? Y/n?” Rosie looks confused.

“Rosie, please do not play any games with me, I’ve brought Y/n to your emporium many times, you two always swapped books.”

“I know a Y/n, but that Y/n isn’t your wife, why I believe I would be the first to know if you had a wife!”

“Then who’s the Y/n you know?”

“Vox’s wife of course!”

Everything is still.

Still and silent.

Rosie is still talking, but Alastor hears nothing. His hands begin to claw the table. His eyes begin to turn into dials.

“Alastor?”

Vox.

Y/n.

Y/n is Vox’s wife.

Vox is Y/n’s husband.

“Alastor!!”

Alastor jolts up, “I’m sorry my dear, I’m just a bit surprised, that Y/n is married to vox...” He grits his teeth.

“Of course they’re married! They were married in life, might as well be married in hell! Oh, and they’re so cute together, you can definitely tell that Vox loves her.”

He feels like his teeth are about to break with how much he’s smiling.

Married in life?

Alastor and Y/n WERE married in life. Not Vox and Y/n.

“My dear Rosie, Y/n simply cannot be his wife… you know most of all that she is my wife.”

Rosie tilts her head, “No, she couldn’t be your wife, I would remember an such an important detail! Alastor... did you have a bit of crush on Y/n? Its understandable but you can’t go after a married woman! That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly!”

Alastor runs a hand through his hair, slightly pulling it.

He knew that Vox had feelings for his wife, he just never thought he’d have the guts to take her from him.

But that doesn’t explain why Roise doesn’t remember Y/n being his wife.

“Thank you for answering my questions my dear! Unfortunately, I must be going now!”

“Oh, Alastor I’m sorry if that wasn’t what you wanted to hear! I’m sure you’ll find someone someday!” She yells out to him as Alastor leaves the emporium.

Just what in the hell is going on?

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈ ◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈

In your bed you lay awake thinking of the day’s events. The Radio Demon held your hand so gently. Why? Why would the demon look at you with such care? He must be scheming. Your eyes grow tired, and you feel yourself being pulled into a dream.

 A sweet tune of jazz is playing as you dance with your husband, your eyes are shut placing your head on his chest. He’s swaying you slowly as the tune comes to an end.

“I love you dearest.”

You raise your head to meet his gaze.

“I love you too Alastor.”

You immediately awaken.  You sit up in your bed, you raise your hand to your face, breathing heavily, feeling sweaty.

Alastor.

Why were you thinking of Alastor so lovingly? He’s not your husband.

You place your hand to the other side of the bed to find Vox still sleeping. You reach your hand closer to his screen, gently caressing his face. This man….is your husband.

Yes… that’s right.

Vox is your husband.

That Radio Demon must have put those ideas into your head. Holding you so lovingly, tenderly. It was just a dream… did you want to have those feelings for him? No, of course not. You loved your husband.

But the dream…. it felt so right.

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈ ◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈

destinyisastar 2024

Hi everyone!! Uni has been kicking my butt but I'm getting through it, (I just procrastinate a lot, I'm working on it) Also some exciting news Alastor's pilot VA is coming to my local convention, and I might meet him!

Stay tuned for part 5!

wordcount: 855

Taglist: @songbirdpond @diffidentphantom @vxllys @sirens-and-moonflowers @bethanythehazbinfan @martinys-world @quinceylikesanime @sweetsaladpainterranch @killer-nightmare0 @ginny-higgins

[theladybrownstarot]

Pick-A-Card: How will be your next 2 months ?

✧ Here's my masterlist for more !

✧ Make sure you like/follow/reblogg/Comment for pacs like these !

˖⁺‧₊˚Pile 1 .

Namaste pile 1 ! Let's begin with your reading:

✧ October: you are going to be really about success and fulfillment but only through a long period of hardwork . You gotta be careful about certain people who keeping an eye on you because they are jealous or will try to find something for their own good will by using or spying on you. I see that there might relevant information coming up for your subjected concern through some communication that will take place between people without involving you . I see that you might get some pets for yourself too or a friend whom you didn't interacted for so long will come back to you and I must say that this person is gonna be loyal to you . For this month your family life is gonna be okay without much improvements like just neutral to good in way that it doesn't affect you mentally. I can see some travel coming up for you guys like around the town or rural not forgein as such . I see that a promotion or satisfaction is coming to you as you wished and worked for . This month will be another completion of a cycle for you but a good one .

✧ November : You are very serious and fervent about the thing . I can see that this month will be challenging but you won't drift apart from you feel . If you didn't achieve the success in the previous month then you will get it here because of the determination and sincerity in you won't let you go away. You will feel very motivated this month too like your intuition or your inner self will let you automatically come in a flow which clear out and balance everything . What seems to be standing out here is that you must be aware what you are keeping your head up for because there will be delusions just to test you .

˖⁺‧₊˚Pile 2 .

Namaste pile 2 ! Let's get with your reading:

✧ October : This month is going to be about solving your main emotional turmoil that you never or tried to solve but couldn't. You will be a bit confused This month and I don't why I felt the month of May has some relation with this month. This month you only need to rely on your intuition and emotions because they will show and guide you more than your practicality. You will agree to things even you don't feel too but you will unintentionally because of your inner drive and say . This month you gotta connect with universe or your diety because they will be prominently help you out . This month you are being advised to take a balanced approach for yourself and not to rush in by any means .

✧ November : This month is gonna be romantic because I see that you may meet your future spouse or next partner or you could also meet someone whom you didn't met since long physically. I sense that this month will be calm and stable for you also that since it's balanced you can take out or execute those things behind the camera . I see somewhere a compromise and resolution for you this month about something that was troubling you before even.

˖⁺‧₊˚Pile 3.

Namaste pile 3 ! Let's get with your reading :

✧ October : The very first thing that I heard and felt was "death" . It could mean in anyways the actual to ceremony to transition of something in a good or bad way . This month you gotta take care of you health alot and don't stress unnecessarily because it will affect you alot mentally especially so take things slowly and calmly . You may have to deal with certain conflicts this month but at the same time here I'm seeing that taking a step back rather roaring at someone will be more beneficial for you also that I see you will get supportive people and environment around you who will protect you and help you thus it might be a blessing and opportunity for you to rest down from certain matters. This month you are being told to meditate very much and number 4 might be significant for you.

✧ November : The another word that hit me up here was "rose" so might be that you gotta get a romantic interest in your life or it's gonna be a time where you will be having some good pleasant experiences . This month is going to be very fruitful for you pile 3 like very much ! That very energy of burden and defeat will be replaced by ever lasting self-made happiness like ofc happiness lies in us you know and this is what that will keep you going so be happy, optimistic , and greatful but don't forget to work hard .

[nighttimealone]

Hi, I love your writing! And I was wondering if I could request a smut story. Where König, Price, or Soap is a budior photographer and is doing a photo shoot with an insecure plus size reader?

Cw: Nsfw (Why choose one? I wrote all of them in this, hope you don’t mind)

You’ve been looking at your feeds, sighs imperceptibly when it shows your friends sharing the photos of them having a boudoir shoot. You’ve always been craving one for yourself, but you don’t fit into the ‘beauty standard’ of the society, or at least that’s the people told you while snorting laughters throughout your life. But fuck it, you’re not going to care about those toxic murmurs from your heart popping up in your mind, or the taunts you’ve received from others. Your fingers type on your phone swiftly, sending a message to the boudoir photographer, then discard your phone on the nightstand and close your eyes, in case you regret your decision again and cancel it with a “sorry”.

John, the first photographer you contact, ring your doorbell and greet you with a polite smile. A gentleman, caring and make sure you’re always comfortable, that’s your first impression of him.

“Just like that, love. You’re doing so well.” He instructs you patiently throughout the shoot, sensing your nervousness and insecurity, but doesn’t point out. It’s obvious that he prefers a more romantic style, let you turn your back to the camera, hair splaying across your back, extending your legs back to accentuate your curves.

You try to hide the ‘excessive’ meat on your thighs, closing them tightly and turn them away from the camera subconsciously. His hands, warm and tender, hovering over your thighs with a gruff “May I?”, seeking your permission before maneuvering your legs, guiding it to expose the plump and soft flesh, “That’s it, good girl. No need to be shy.” He snaps the picture with a satisfied look.

His eyes are full of fascination when he looks down at you, skins glowing and cheeks rosy when he slowly peels the robe of your lingerie—french style with white transparent laces—off you. “Knew how gorgeous you look in these, love?” John’s touch is reverent, as if you’re a gift from the heaven, peppering kisses up your thighs, knowing how much you feel embarrassed about them. Yet the awe in his eyes makes your head spin as he wraps his hands around both of your thighs, “God, see how they spill out of my fingers, princess? perfect…absolutely perfect.” That’s the last thing he says before lowering his head, can’t control his urge any longer, lapping at your core and worshipping you thoroughly, there’s won’t be a spot left untaken care of as your back arch at how his tongue nudges your entrance, drinking all those nectar and groans lowly when your squeeze his head between your thighs. “Come on, squeeze those thighs harder around me, drown me in your pussy.” When you see him lift his head slightly, instructing you just like he was during the shooting—only this time his beard is glistening with your juices—you know you’ll keep being a good girl for him.

You receive the photos from John a week after, baffled and blinks your eyes a few times, trying to process the fact that the elegant woman in the photo is you. Your cheeks are hot when you observe the photos clearly, but the joy swirling in your chest overtakes the shyness of seeing yourself in such intimate positions.

So you search the internet again, and finds Johnny, contact him about booking a session, meanwhile take a look at his social media profile. He looks confident and quite a people person, the smug smile never leaves his lips in every photos of him. And he’s just like what you assume, the moment you open your door, he never stops talking, charming you with every words, even the stupid mohawk only he can make it shine looks good on him.

In contrast to John, Johnny’s style is more passionate, sexual and sultry. Teaching you to sit on your bed, legs spread wide and brace yourself with arms at your back, arch your supple breast high and let the locks falls naturally behind you. “Hell, you look like sexiness embodiment, lassie.” Johnny’s praises never stop, every moves of your body make him gasp in admiration.

Johnny insists you to sit on his lap, tugging the straps on your lingerie and let it snap back on your skin lightly, moans out like a needy wolf as he watch the strap’s digging into your skin slightly. “I knew this lingerie would suit ye the moment I saw your stunning body, pretty girl.” Yes, he suggested you to pick yourself a lingerie with more straps tying around each part of your body, but what you didn’t know is he’s been hiding that boner since he see you comes out the bathroom with it, his cock so hard and leaking precums in his trousers, good that he wears the loose and black pair, or he might get caught hiding his erection during the shoot, and ended up just fucking you straightly before finishing the shoot.

His thick dick sinks into your cunny, still pushing you down onto his lap, so he can stuff all that cock inside of your warmth. If you try to lift your ass, saying you don’t want to crush him under his weight, a soft smack will immediately lands on your buttocks, with him grabbing your thighs and thrust into you fully again, chuckling at your high-pitched whine, “Ditch those unnecessary concerns, doll. Think I can’t handle a bit of weight, eh? will change that thought of yers now.” His hips rocks upwards to emphasize his points, and you can barely understand his words when he’s fucking into your tight cunt fiercely.

During the wait for the photos from Johnny, you contact König. You’re more comfortable with boudoir shoots now, and when you spotted his work from his profile, you’re interested in getting one of those photos featuring exotic nightgowns. He replies to your inquiry quickly with a ‘:)’ at the end of the sentence, so you expect him to be a cute boy. Well, that’s why you almost close your door after seeing a 6’9’’ giant with a mask covering the lower half of his face, standing in front of you when the time comes, thinking he accidentally knocked the wrong door, until he swiftly explains to you he’s ‘König’ with a tint of fluster in his voice.

Despite the little incident and misunderstanding earlier, the whole experience is relaxing. He’s quieter and looks more intimidating than John and Johnny, yet he softly guides your movements and pose, and you almost snicker at his attempt to make himself less scary.

But when König scoops you in his arms without breaking a sweat, holding you in full nelson and driving that inhuman-sized cock into your pussy, growls teetering on animalistic and humane as he keeps lifting you, letting the position help him abuse your poor cervix and you’re singing his name in joy, squirting here and there every time he pulls out a bit just to slam back, heavy balls slapping on your skin, you know he’s been hiding the feral side from you, caging the animal inside him till he can has his way with you after the shoot. “So süß…so gut, liebe…” His hips never cease, standing tall and pinning you back against his chest. A german curse grunted against your shoulder as he goes pussy drunk, panting at how comforting and enticing to fondle your pillowy thighs when he fills you to the brim.

You wake up next day around noon, body aches from the activity from last day. Your groggy mind sluggishly recalls that Johnny tells you he’ll be sending the final files of your photos today, so you reach out to check if he sent them yet. Yet your eyes widened when you see the notifications popping up on the screen.

[Price]: You can just come to me whenever you want another shoot, sweetheart. Heard you went to get one from Johnny, hmm?

[Johnny]: Saw you following that giant’s account. König, eh? don’t go seek him when you need new photos, ask me or at least the old man first, I’ll always squeeze a session out of my schedule just for you, lassie.

[König]: *attached a picture of an exquisite nightgown* This suits you well, Schatz. I just bought it for you, and if you don’t mind, I want to see you in it and posing for MY camera.

Your palms are sweating as your eyes scan through the texts. Because no way all three of them know each other, right…right?

Bloody hell.

feel free to share your thoughts via askbox, hope you’ll like this.

[shaunamilfman]

the ghost you dressed up as [1]

pairing: Jackie Taylor x Shauna Shipman x R summary: "A vicious string of murders has shook the town of Wiskayok, and there seems to only be one common thread: you. Of course, everyone knows everyone in a small town—but that doesn't seem to save you. Isolated and alone as even your closest friends start to keep their distance from the only viable suspect, you start to form an unlikely friendship with two of your teammates." note: warnings for descriptions of violence. not a ton of Jackieshauna in this one but there will be. masterlist

The streets are quieter with the fear of echoing footsteps following you down the street. People darting from place to place; too afraid to stay in one place too long. Not when it could be your last. It’s ridiculous in a way, with every murder happening at their own houses. What can shatter an illusion of safety more than that? A sanctuary turned into a slaughterhouse. That’s somehow more terrifying than bleeding out in the street. At least here you could run.

You’ve grown increasingly used to looking over your shoulder in the last few months. Second nature, almost. Like checking your watch, but with none of the comfort of routine. There’s never anyone there: no shadow lurking in the darkness, no face obscured by the limits of a streetlight. Just empty air, indifferent and terrifying at the same time. The kind of emptiness that stares right back at you.

Yet, the nagging feeling that someone should be there still won’t leave your mind. Something deep down whispering that you’re not alone even when your eyes tell you otherwise. Paranoia, maybe. The chance is still high enough that you haven’t bothered to mention it to your friends. What would they even say about it?

You can imagine the conversation. The way they’d pause, hesitating just long enough to make you feel so achingly alone, sharing a look between themselves before telling you that you were just imagining it. Everyone’s grown paranoid since the murders began. 

Painting a target on your back, imagined or not, isn’t going to help anyone. It’s better for everyone if you just keep your head down; just keep looking forward even when everything in you is screaming at you to turn around. Sometimes you swear you can hear the flutter of a camera just out of sight. A whisper of a sound that’s gone in an instant, ringing like a gunshot in your ears as you stand frozen. Frantic eyes searching around as you clutch the straps of your backpack like it would somehow save you. But it’s silly. 

You’re acting silly.

You take a deep breath and give a perfunctory smile at the next person you walk past, a switch of your lips for an attempt at a smile that fails to meet your eyes. There’s a strange enjoyment to be gained from the way it makes them flinch away from you, whether from fear or surprise. You notice the way they white knuckle their own bag as they give you an increasingly wider berth. Speeding up their steps just enough to put distance between you.

Does that make you a bad person? You’re not sure you care anymore. You keep telling yourself it’s just a defense mechanism–to scare them before they can scare you. That was sure at first, maybe. There’s power in it. Knowing that just for a moment they’re sharing in the terror that's become your baseline. At least that’s something you can control.

You sneak one last look over your shoulder. 

No one.

You stare into the depths of your locker, feigning a search for a textbook, fingers brushing across cold metal as you aimlessly shuffle through papers. Really, you’re just buying time. Trying to suppress the curve of your lips that would give you away. The hallways buzz with hushed whispers, groups moving past in packs as people fear being caught alone. The tension is thick, almost suffocating. Accusations fly from mouths loosened by fear, fingers pointing at their own neighbors, whispers turned into truths.

And there you are. Fighting back a smile. 

When you heard Steven was dead, a peculiar feeling welled up in you: relief, satisfaction, a giddy sense of joy. You know now, without a doubt, that what you once only feared was true. You are a bad person. The realization settles in on you with less gravitas than you would have been expecting. No guilt weighing you down, no remorse settling around your shoulders to hold you in place. No, it was almost like a weight was taken away. A burden you hadn’t realized you were carrying. 

You can still hear the voice of your friend echoing faintly in your ear. “His parents found him this morning, in a lawn chair outside. I heard that–that his stomach was…” Her voice was trembling, both from fear and a morbid sort of fascination–the same thing that draws people to watch horror movies with a hand placed strategically over their eyes, fingers spread just enough to see through. A ready denial that they just couldn’t stomach that sort of stuff without ever actually looking away.

She didn’t need to finish. The horror on her face and the way she trailed off said enough. You could fill in the rest, almost all too eagerly. You could almost picture it: Steven sprawled out on a chair as his guts spilled out of him. Blood, so much blood, staining the expensive, overpriced tiles in the giant house he’d always held over people’s heads. Pristine flooring ruined beyond repair, a stark contrast to the blindingly white walls of the house looming large behind him.

You could imagine the terror in his parents' eyes as they found his body. The ear-splitting screams his mother would emit as her expensive and impractically high heels slipped in his blood. In your mind, she was covered in it. Covered in the blood of a son whose discretions she’d always covered up for. His father standing frozen, finally meeting a crime he couldn’t just wave away. The image was so clear you almost felt like you were there.

Stomach wounds hurt the most, don’t they? You’ve heard that somewhere–a dozen TV shows that blend together indiscriminately. The thought that Steven might have suffered, might have felt every agonizing moment of his own death as he bled out slowly fills you with a sick sense of satisfaction. It doesn’t matter in the end. Steven’s still dead. You should be horrified, both at the act and your own callousness. But you’re not. A painful, terrifying end for a man that reveled in terrorizing you. The irony isn’t lost on you. A poetic justice that you carefully revel in.

That cruel smirk; the mocking laughter that rang in your ears as he lorded every inch of his height over you; the way he leaned in close to invade your space; the joy he took from letting his eyes wonder. It was all gone, erased by several strokes of a knife. Another name added to a growing list of victims, another statistic. 

A statistic. That’s all Steven would ever be, all his life leading up to dying at someone else's hand. In death, he was no more than a number. Number four, in fact. He wasn’t even important enough to be the first person killed. 

The thought lingers as you finally shut the door to your locker, turning to face your friends with a carefully blank look on your face. A solemn nod that conveys whatever you need it to.

Not one of your friends had noticed anything amiss, not that you ever thought they would. They don’t notice, too caught up in their own fears to think you’d react differently.

But someone notices. A figure at a locker across the hall that you’d never think to look for. Lounging back against a locker, casual and unafraid as she revels in the terror their actions have caused. An unspoken look of recognition exchanged between two best friends. 

A look you never notice.

…

The whispers have already started before you've even risen from your seat, a wave of low murmuring washing over the classroom. Heads turn, watching your every movement as you sit stiffly in your chair, a dozen silent accusations thrown at you all at once. 

It seems they don't even have the decency to wait till your back is turned to turn on you. You can feel a rush of heat rising up to your face, darkening your cheeks. A flush of anger or embarrassment–you can't tell which. 

You silently pack up your things, meticulously placing your belongings in your bag. Anything to buy time to get your heartbeat back under control. The rustling of your papers does nothing to drown out the buzzing of your classmates' voices. 

Their eyes dig into you like daggers as you slowly push back your chair to stand. You wince at the sound: the grating noise of well-worn chair legs scraping against the cheap linoleum flooring. 

If everyone wasn't looking at you before, they certainly are now.

Your teacher’s voice had been calm when she had first answered the door, but the sight of the officers standing in the hallway had her faltering. Her mouth opened and closed, almost like a fish, before she finally managed to call out your name in a shaky voice. 

She had tried not to let her fear get the best of her, not to let anyone know, but it was obvious what they were here for. The shift in the room had been immediate. Just one question on anyone's mind: why you? 

“Did you hear that she and Steven got into an argument last night?”

“She knew Casey, didn't she?”

“...no, he was found by the pool.” 

“Didn't she used to hang out with…”

The murmurs cut short as you stand up, dozens of nervous eyes focusing on you as you throw your bag over your shoulder. You keep your face blank, impassive, almost as if you haven't noticed everyone staring at you. You'd be a fool not to, of course. But better a fool than a serial killer. 

It wouldn't matter after this. Wouldn't matter that you hadn't actually done it. Hadn't actually killed anyone. They're connecting dots that don't exist, and there's nothing you can do to stop it from happening. You'd be as good as guilty by the time your foot hit the hallway. 

Judging by the way your friend refuses to meet your eyes, you've already been sentenced. She stares down at the desk as she fiddles with her spiral notebook, avoiding your gaze like it might burn her. 

She's already cut ties from a sinking ship. 

You know better than to protest too much, no matter how much you just want to scream. Instead, you set your jaw and walk through the aisle, clenching your teeth until it aches. 

Each step is measured and deliberate as you walk to what feels like certain doom. They echo far too loudly in the eerie silence that's fallen over the room, the pressure of their suspicion only growing as you draw closer to the stern-looking officer at the front of the room. 

You stuff your hands in your pockets to stop them from shaking, fingers curled up into fists as your nails bite into your skin. You don't look back as the door closes behind you, but you can hear the voices start up immediately. Muted through the door, but unmistakable. 

The walk to the principal's office is mostly silent, a heavy silence that seems to press in on you from all sides. They walk side-by-side with you the whole way there, while partially shielding you from view from curious eyes in the hall; it mostly serves to make you feel more like a prisoner than anything else. The younger officer tries to make small talk, but you're too stressed to appreciate it.

He asks mundane questions that you give short, noncommittal answers to. His voice is light, conversational, and far too casual for the conversation he’s angling for. He’s trying to set you at ease, maybe. Or maybe he’s trying to see how easy it’ll be to get you to crack. Either way, you don’t give much away, responding to each question with the short, noncommittal answers. The words feel hollow, your mind racing as you try to figure out how you're going to get out of this. 

What do they know? Better yet, what do they think they know? You haven’t done anything wrong, and you should be safe in that knowledge, but it offers you little comfort.

You can see the shadows of figures inside; their silhouettes are just barely visible through the frosted glass, though they loom large in your mind.

One of them has to be a detective, you're sure. You've seen some local ones on TV a couple times being hounded by some hotshot reporter, but you'd never bothered to watch any of it. Always mindlessly flipping channels whenever they came on. Maybe you should've. Maybe then you would’ve known what kind of questions they’d ask and what they were looking for in a suspect.

You'd noticed the connections between you and the other victims–you'd have to be stupid not to. It wasn't something you'd given much thought to after the first murder or the second. They'd felt so distant at the time, even if you knew the people killed. Wiskayok was a small town, and privacy was a luxury few could afford. Everybody knew everybody, even if you didn't care much for them. 

It has to be a coincidence. 

What else could it be? 

The threads that had seemed so flimsy at first had started to choke you and started to haunt your dreams. The growing list of victims, each tied to you in some inconsequential way, became harder and harder to brush away. You’d wake up in the middle of the night, not knowing why but having some bone-deep feeling that someone was watching you.

Sitting up in your bed, glancing around your room and it’s all too familiar clutter till your eyes eventually narrowed on your closet, convinced there was someone in there staring back at you through the smallest crack in the door. It was embarrassing–like you were a child terrified of some boogeyman–but sometimes you swore you could hear the faint sound of terrifyingly even breathing. 

Methodical, almost like they were trying to match the sound of your own.

But by the time the third murder rolled by and you were still the only plausible connection between them, you grew to hate those nights even more. Three people, three murders, and the most plausible connection: you. 

The fear was bleeding into the daylight hours now, clinging to your every thought. It was gnawing at your insides, making it hard to focus on anything other than that looming dread weighing down on you. It followed you everywhere–that paranoia poisoning any relationship you had.

Now, standing at the threshold of the principal’s office, the fear had turned into something much more tangible. You knew what they were going to ask. What they were going to imply. They were going to tear your whole life apart, and for what?

You didn’t think they’d be able to connect the dots so quickly, not when it had taken you so long to even get an inkling, but they must’ve been more competent than you’d thought. Or–the thought strikes you–someone else must’ve clued them in on it. That seemed much more likely. Taking a moment to remember how one of the freshmen had looked at you when Casey’s death was announced, the way Allie’s eyes had widened dramatically–you’re almost certain.

They’ll want answers and explanations to questions you yourself weren’t even able to answer. Pick apart every relationship you’ve ever had just to come to the same conclusions that you had. You were confident enough that they wouldn't be able to pin it on you legally. Hell, you were out of town when the first murder occurred. But they were getting desperate, and you knew that. 

You step into the room, noticeably warmer than the hallway outside. Uncomfortably so, even. It’s so stifling that you wonder for a moment if it was on purpose, but as your eyes land on the thermostat, encased in a plastic lockbox, you decide the principal must just be cheap. 

The lead detective is visibly sweating as he takes in the sight of you, brushing a hand across his brow and wiping it on his pants. He gives you a surprisingly kind smile as he notices your discomfort in the room, shrugging lightly–What do you do?–as he sits back in the chair. The smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s a genuine one nonetheless. It’s already more comfort than you were expecting to get.

The click of the door shutting behind with a soft click, the barely audible noise terribly grating on your already shot nerves. You’ve always excelled at keeping your cool, even when people around you are freaking out, but it’s a struggle not to let on how afraid you are.

Detective Andrews tries to appear relaxed, but the way he fiddles with the pen in his hands makes it clear he’s anything but. He spins it around his fingers, taps it against the desk, spins it again. It goes flying from his hands, landing on the floor with a quiet thud. His cheeks flush just the slightest as his partner bends down and places it back on the desk. Good, at least the both of you are uncomfortable. It’s a bitter comfort.

Your eyes inevitably land on the woman standing next to him, her eyes sizing you up. Waiting to see how you’re going to react to the situation. Will you pretend not to know why you’ve been called here? Immediately start protesting your innocence? You can’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t be misconstrued, so instead you say nothing. You’re sure she’ll still read into that somehow.

Sure enough, her eyes narrow as she scribbles something on the notepad she’s carrying. Every stroke feels like a mark against you, another tally in the guilty column.

Great.

“We just have a few questions,” the woman–Detective Richards–indicates finally, her pen still poised against the notepad as she looks pointedly at the lone chair on the other side of the desk. “Have a seat?”

Despite being phrased as a question, it would be stupid to interpret it as anything but what it was: an order. You could already feel the noose tightening around your neck as you sit down slowly, fingers intertwining in your lap to keep them from shaking.

“Great,” Detective Andrews says, clapping his hands together with a forced cheerfulness that makes your skin crawl. “This shouldn’t take long.”

Famous last words.

…

It was everywhere by lunchtime. Heads turned to watch you walk down the hallway, whispers following just as quickly as soon as you were out of earshot. It didn’t matter that the police had let you go without even as much as a warning. 

The cafeteria was no different: loud chattering turning to a dull murmur the second you step in the room. You walk with your eyes focused on the floor as you find an empty table, each step heavy with the certainty your every move was being scrutinized and picked apart. 

It was impossible to pinpoint just who was talking, which made it so much worse. At least then you’d have the comfort of knowing who had turned on you, but now you just had to assume it was everyone. 

The weight of that combined judgment weighed down on you, making it hard to focus on any one thing. The hum of voices was oppressive and the lights were far too bright. The room felt suffocating; each breath leaving your chest felt like a battle that you were about to lose. You couldn’t just leave, not in the middle of lunch, but you weren’t sure how much longer you could stomach sitting here and listening to your fall from grace.

Your fingers twitched against the table, tapping relentlessly against the edge of it for something to do. You were hyperaware of the sweat gathering on the back of your neck, your heart pounding in your chest like you were waiting for the verdict to be announced. Sitting here felt wrong, but what else could you do?

You didn’t bother to look for any of your friends, already suspecting that they wouldn’t be interested in being seen with you no matter what they actually believed. It’s for the same reason you don’t bother to brave the lunch line, knowing it would be filled with people who’d rather you starve than stand next to them.

It was… dramatic, yes, but you figured you might deserve to be. You’d already resigned yourself to spending the next few weeks alone till they moved on to the next big thing–hopefully sooner than later–but until then you would just have to deal with it. Rumors spread through small towns like wildfires, and you were as good as guilty in the eyes of everyone you knew. 

Everyone, surprisingly, but two of your friends. 

You were hesitant to even call them as such, never having spoken all that much outside of practice before today. The three of you had always run in pretty different circles–Jackie and Shauna always off in their own orbit–so you rarely interacted in practice, let alone outside of it. You can’t think of anything you could have done to inspire such loyalty in them, but it must be something for them to want to stick beside you like this. 

It wasn’t as if choosing to sit next to you at that empty table was a small decision. 

The whole cafeteria had gone quiet as Jackie and Shauna walked up to your table–not that either of them seemed to notice. You were just as surprised as everyone else as they approached, trays in hand, with a kind of quiet confidence that made you envious. 

You wondered for a moment, just an instant, if they were coming over to condemn you too. Jackie was seemingly one of the nicest girls you knew, but you’d heard her giggling enough in the locker room to know she was a bit of a gossip. 

There was a danger to Jackie Taylor, you knew. No matter how hidden it was. She was the kind of girl who could gut you with a well-placed whisper, share a secret that you were so willing to trust her with, and still flash you that innocent smile afterwards. Just because she wouldn’t do it doesn’t mean she couldn’t.

Shauna always pretends she’s above it all, but she’s always listening just as closely as she stares at some fixed point at the wall to pretend she wasn’t paying attention. She was never directly a part of the drama, but she was never fully out of it, was she? Those eyes see a lot more than her mouth reveals, you knew from experience. She was surprisingly observant.

You would know: you were too. Just as much as Shauna watched you, you always watched her back. It started as a form of retaliation for all the times you’ve caught her staring at you, eyes tracing your person with some mixture of intrigue and frustration. She was always quick to look away when she caught your attention, turning her attention back to Jackie like you just wouldn’t notice what she was doing.

Were they going to ask you questions too? Hound you for answers you honestly didn’t have under the guise of friendly concern? You’ve had more than enough of that today.

Jackie slid her tray on to the table with practiced ease, flipping her hair over her shoulder with an effortless grace as she took the seat across from you. She had a way of commanding a room without a single word, but you’ve never seen it used outside the locker room. Even that was usually met with varying success, as Nat was just as likely to tell her to fuck off as she was to actually listen.

There’s always been an undeniable magnetism about her that’s hard to resist. She was someone people watched because they wanted to, not because they had to. For once, it seems to be working in your favor, swiftly turning people’s attention from you to her.

Shauna took the seat next to her with far less grace, a deliberateness to her movements that betrayed her attempt at being casual. You smile at the sight of a particularly nasty glare that was aimed at someone at a table nearby who seems to be checking Jackie out. Some things never change. Shauna was never this confident on her own, not this visibly at least, but you figured Jackie could inspire that in anyone if she tried.

There was just something about being on the receiving end of a pleased look from her, and you knew Shauna must have received it more than anyone else on Earth. You were giddy for days once after Jackie complimented your footwork in practice, so you can’t even imagine being on the receiving end of that smile all the time.

Their relationship has always been closed off, so incredibly insular that you’ve never attempted to befriend them. It’s not that you don’t like them or that they’ve ever been unkind to you. They just seem reluctant to have to talk to anyone else, and you weren’t the type to force yourself where you were clearly not wanted. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen one without the other, though you know on some level they’d have to separate at some point.

The very idea of it feels strange, so you don’t dwell on it for too long. It was hard to even imagine Jackie without Shauna, or Shauna without Jackie. 

For a long moment, all you can do is stare at them, your mind scrambling to put the pieces together and coming up with nothing.

Whatever their reasoning is, the fact remains that they’re now sitting across from you and looking at you expectantly. Jackie’s eyes are bright, her nails tapping impatiently against the table one after the other as she waits for you to answer. Shauna is a little more subdued, but her gaze is steady, her eyes focused entirely on you as she waits for you to answer whatever question was posed.

Shit.

“Did you say something?” You ask hesitantly. Your voice sounds small and uncertain, and you hate the way it betrays your nerves. You’ve been on edge all day, and this sudden interaction certainly wasn’t helping to calm you down.

Jackie laughs quietly, flashing you a smile. She shares a look with Shauna, something quick and indecipherable before turning her attention back to you. She’s the picture of confidence, as always, but at least Shauna was a little more reserved. It was strangely relaxing to see that at least they weren’t acting any different around you. 

Shauna, for her part, didn’t seem all that bothered by the sudden attention on her either. She seems almost bored, eyes flicking across the crowd like getting suspicious glares from half the school was just another Tuesday. You wonder how she could look so indifferent, how she could look so calm when you were struggling not to collapse beneath the pressure of the accusations flying your way.

“Crazy morning, huh?” Shauna repeats, pinching a fry between her fingers as she brings it to her lips. She chews slowly, either unaware of or simply not caring about the way you stare at her in response.

You blink at her, almost stunned. It was so casual, nonchalant even. It was jarring how little she seems to care about an event that’s effectively ruined your life. Here she was acting like you tripped over your feet in homeroom or something.

Jackie nudges her in the side with her elbow, giving her a pointed look. “Really?” She says in an exasperated whisper, the reprimand softened by her obvious amusement as she rolls her eyes.

Shauna shrugs innocently, holding up her hands in a half-hearted gesture of surrender for good measure. There’s a trace of a smile on her face, like she’s testing you. Just waiting to see how you respond when provoked. She reaches out to swap something on their trays without much attention before she just starts eating. 

The movement is quick and practiced, as if she's done it a million times. Jackie barely spares the action a glance, further confirming your assumption. You can’t help the feeling it provokes, a flash of jealousy you’re quick to tamper down. You wonder for a moment what it must be like to be known so well. What it must be like to experience the unspoken understanding they’ve always had.

Jackie gives you a reassuring smile as she reaches forward and squeezes your hand, the suddenness of it making you gasp. Her hands are cold–unsurprising given the amount of jackets she adorns every winter–but surprisingly grounding. You spare a glance at Shauna, who seems strangely pleased at the reaction, but you don’t pay it much thought as Jackie speaks.

“Don’t mind her,” she says apologetically, clearly trying to mend the bridge that Shauna so carelessly blundered over. It’s surprisingly well practiced, and you get the feeling that Jackie often has to apologize for something that Shauna’s said.

Shauna rolls her eyes, but there’s no real malice in it; rather a, we’re still on this? kind of vibe. “People are idiots,” she mutters, almost to herself more than anyone else. There’s a finality to her words that makes them hard to argue with.

You’re not so sure that it’ll be that easy, but Shauna’s confidence in it does raise your spirits.

“Yeah,” you say finally, trying to mirror her indifference. “Crazy morning.”

Shauna smirks, glancing over at Jackie to make sure she’s watching her gloat. Jackie sighs dramatically but doesn’t seem all that put out about it. There’s an easy affection there between them, one that speaks of years and years worth of moments just like this–knowing just when to push the others buttons and when to let things go. You smile slightly as you watch. 

It’s so easy just to observe them, to bask in their devotion to each other even if you aren’t a part of it. Jackie reaches over to snatch a fry off of Shauna’s tray, which is received with little more than an annoyed sigh before Jackie pulls you back into the conversation.

[wiltedflowerpetals]

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At first, you, Mrs. Price, thought that you had to go on a normal but dangerous mission. You only had to get some intel. Get in and out. Easy… right?

But getting captured was not on your to-do-list for this mission…

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Hi! Thanks for reading the third part, I wish you all a great day! Also a small reminder: I take requests for this series and all the fandoms I write for!

Words: 2217

Warning: angsty, no death so don’t worry, angry and worried John Price

Part 1: Wife Meets Friend | Part 2: Wife On A Mission | Part 3: (you are reading it) | Part 4: Husband Saves Wife | Part 5: Husband And Wife

You stirred, your body instinctively seeking out John’s warmth. His arm was draped protectively over your waist, and you smiled softly. For a few blissful seconds, you allowed yourself to forget about the dangerous world outside or the mission you went on yesterday.

John shifted beside you, his hand tightening around you as he woke up. “Morning.” He murmured, his voice deep and drowsy.

“Morning.” You replied, turning to face him. His hair was tousled, and his eyes were still heavy with sleep.

“You slept well.” He noted, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek.

“I did.” You said, leaning into his touch. “Better than I have in a while.”

“Good.” John said with a smile. “You needed it.”

You two lay there for a while longer, enjoying the simple pleasure of each other’s company. You always treasured these moments - moments where you could enjoy your simple life with your lovely husband in bed. Eventually, you knew you had to get up.

“I’ll make breakfast.” You offered, slipping out of bed and heading towards the kitchen. John followed you a few minutes later, still in his pajamas, looking more relaxed than you’d seen him in days.

As you moved around the kitchen, preparing your usual breakfast, you stole glances at him. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the sound of his low chuckle when you teased him about his bedhead - it was all so precious to you.

You could see that John was trying to enjoy the calm as much as you were, and you appreciated his effort to keep things light. But you could sense a lingering concern in his eyes. He hadn’t mentioned your odd behavior from the previous night, but you knew he was still worried.

When breakfast was over, John stood and started to clear the dishes. “I’ve got this.” He said, motioning for you to relax. “You should take it easy before you head to work.”

You smiled, appreciating the gesture. “Thanks, but I’m fine. I don’t want you doing all the work.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You work too hard, you know that?”

“I know...” You chuckled.

After breakfast, you headed upstairs to get ready for the day. As you dressed for your supposed office job, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. It was a subtle tension in the air, but you didn’t know what exactly was off.

Just as you were about to leave, your phone buzzed on the bedside table. You glanced at the screen and saw Kate’s name. You heart skipped a beat as you answered the call, praying that you didn’t had to lie to your husband again and could just relax with him today. “Kate.”

“Morning, (Y/N).” Kate greeted her, her tone all business. “I need you to meet me at the usual spot. We’ve got a situation.”

You sighed. “What’s going on?”

“We’ve got intel on a new target.” Kate explained. “This one’s sensitive. You’ll need to handle it alone.”

You nodded. You were used to working solo, and while you preferred it, the timing couldn’t be worse. “I’ll be there soon…”

“Good.” Kate said. “And (Y/N)… be careful. This one’s different.”

“Understood.” You replied, before ending the call.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. Whatever this mission was, it required your full attention. You finished getting ready, making sure your appearance was as normal as ever before heading downstairs. John was in the living room, flipping through the news on the television when you approached.

“I’ve got to head to work.” You said, leaning down to kiss him goodbye.

John looked up, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Another busy day?”

“Unfortunately.” You replied with a small pout. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Be safe.” He said, his voice laced with that familiar concern.

“I always am.” You reassured him, before turning to leave.

Kate’s warning echoed in her mind, as you drove away. But you had a job to do, and you couldn’t afford to let your personal fears get in the way.

You met Kate at a discreet location on the outskirts of the city, where you could speak freely without the risk of being overheard. Kate’s expression was grim when you arrived, and she wasted no time getting to the point.

“The target is a man named Mikhailov.” Kate began, handing you a dossier. “He’s resurfaced after years of staying under the radar. We have reason to believe he’s planning something big, and we need to find out what it is.”

You flipped through the dossier, scanning the information. Mikhailov was a name you hadn’t heard before, but the details were troubling. He had connections to various criminal organizations, and his recent activities suggested he was gearing up for something major.

“You’re going in alone.” Kate continued. “We need you to gather intel, find out what he’s planning, and report back. But be careful - Mikhailov is dangerous, and he won’t hesitate to eliminate any threats.”

You nodded. “I’ll handle it.”

“I know you will.” Kate said, her tone serious. “But I need you to be extra cautious this time. Something about this doesn’t sit right with me.”

You met her gaze, seeing the concern in your friend’s eyes. “I will. You have my word.”

With that, you set off on the mission. The location you were heading to was an abandoned warehouse in Budapest - a perfect place for someone like Mikhailov to conduct shady business. You parked your car a few blocks away and made your way to the warehouse on foot.

The building was heavily guarded, but you were a master at slipping past security. You moved like a ghost, silently taking out any obstacles in your path. Inside, you found what you were looking for - Mikhailov was meeting with a group of men, discussing plans that were clearly meant to stay secret.

You listened carefully, gathering as much information as you could. But just as you were about to slip away, something went wrong. One of Mikhailov’s men spotted you, and before you could react, you were surrounded. They moved quickly, disarming you and forcing you to the ground.

“Look what we have here.” Mikhailov said, his voice dripping with malice as he approached you. “A little spy.”

You glared up at him. You had been in tight spots before, and you knew better than to panic. But this time, something felt different. Mikhailov’s cold eyes bored into your, and you realized that this was no ordinary capture.

“You’ve made a big mistake coming here.” Mikhailov continued, his voice low and menacing. “Did you really think you could sneak in and out without anyone noticing?”

You remained silent, knowing that anything you said could be used against you. You were outnumbered and outgunned, and there was no easy way out of this. Your thoughts flickered to John, wondering if you would ever see him again.

Mikhailov ordered his men to take you away, and you found yourself roughly shoved into a waiting van. They tied your hands behind your back and blindfolded you, so you couldn’t find out where they are going to bring you. As the van sped away, you realized that you were in serious trouble, and for the first time, you weren’t sure how you were going to get out of this damn situation.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Back at home, John spent the day going through his usual routine, but there was a weird feeling that he couldn’t shake off. As evening approached, he realized that you hadn’t returned yet. You hated being late and would always text or call him in case you truly were busy with work. Maybe that was the reason why John started to worry more than usually.

He tried calling you, but there was no answer. Anxiety gnawed at him as he paced the living room, his mind racing with possibilities. He tried to convince himself that you were just busy, that you would walk through the door any minute now with an apology for being late. Just like on many days before. But there was still no sign of you and his worry turned into full-blown fear.

Just as he was about to grab his keys and go out to try to find you, his phone rang. He snatched it up, hoping it was his sweet wife, but the number on the screen wasn’t yours.

“Kate?” He said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Make it quick. I need to get out-”

“(Y/N) has been kidnapped.”

His grip tightened on the phone. “What…?”

John’s breath caught in his throat. “Kidnapped? What the hell are you talking about, Kate? How could this happen?”

Kate’s tone was serious. “I don’t have all the details yet, but it appears that Mikhailov is behind this.”

“Mikhailov?” John repeated, the name triggering a flood of memories - dark memories he’d hoped to never think of ever again. Mikhailov was a ruthless terrorist and a ghost from his past. John had thought he’d killed the man years ago, but apparently, he’d survived. “I thought he was dead.”

“So did we at first…” Kate admitted. “But it seems he’s resurfaced, and he’s not done with whatever vendetta he’s holding. I’m sorry, John, I didn’t know how deep this ran.”

John’s mind raced. You had been taken by a man he thought he’d defeated, a man that killed every damn soldier in his previous team, before he became the captain of 141. The thought of Mikhailov getting his hands on you made his blood run cold.

“What does he want with her?” John demanded, his voice thick with worry and anger. “She’s not involved in any of this.”

Kate hesitated, and John’s heart sank further. “I don’t know yet…” She said carefully, choosing her words. “But Mikhailov has a long history of targeting people to get what he wants. He might know about your connection to her…”

John’s mind flashed with images of what Mikhailov did back then. All the blood John had to see on that damn day. “I’m going after her.” He said, his voice hard with determination. “I’m not letting that bastard take her.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that.” Kate replied, her tone softening slightly. “But, John, you need to be careful. Mikhailov is dangerous. Going after him alone isn’t a good idea.”

“I don’t care.” John snapped. “I’m not sitting around while she’s out there, God knows where, in the hands of that monster.”

Kate sighed. “I understand, but you’re not alone in this. You have people who can help. Your task force-”

“No.” John cut her off. The fear of history repeating itself weighed heavily on him. The last time he’d faced Mikhailov, good men had died. “I’m not putting them at risk. I’ll do this on my own.”

“John, listen to me.” Kate sighed. “You need to think this through. Mikhailov isn’t someone you can take down by yourself. You have a team for a reason. Let them help you.”

John hesitated, he wanted to protect his team, but also needed to save his wife. He knew Kate was right - going after Mikhailov alone would be suicide. But the thought of involving the 141-... God, no, he wouldn’t want to see them die as well…

“John.” Kate continued; her voice gentler now. “You can’t do this alone. I know you’re scared, but (Y/N) needs you to be smart about this. Don’t do this by yourself.”

John closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. She was right. He knew she was right. He thought of his team - Gaz, Ghost, Soap - all of them were capable and willing to risk everything for each other. They were his brothers-in-arms. If they asked for help, he would help them immediately…

“Alright.” John finally said. “I’ll call them in.”

Kate sounded relieved. “That’s the right call, John. I’ll do everything I can to support you from here. We’ll get her back.”

John hung up the phone and took a deep breath in. His thoughts were a mixture of fear, anger, and determination. He couldn’t lose you. Not now, not ever.

He quickly dialed the numbers of his team members. Each conversation was short, their responses immediate and unwavering. They’d be there, ready to help him get John’s wife back, no questions asked.

Within the hour, 141 gathered at a secure location, prepared for what was to come. John stood before them, his face a mask of grim determination.

“Thanks for coming.” He began, his voice steady and calm despite the fear inside. “I’m not going to lie to you - this is personal. (Y/N) has been taken by Mikhailov, a man I thought I killed years ago. He’s dangerous, ruthless, and he’ll do whatever it takes to get what he wants.”

The team listened intently; their expressions serious. They knew what was at stake. Your life.

“We’re going after him.” John continued, locking eyes with each of them. “But we do this smart. No unnecessary risks, no heroics. We get her out, and we take him down. This ends today.”

They nod. John smiled at them, grateful that they will help him. He wasn’t alone in this fight. Together, they will fight and bring the love of his life back. No matter the cost.

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[fuji-sen]

the 'evil imposter' just wants to be a baker!

Prologue: The Food turned Imposter?!

Part 7: Dawn Winery's Grapevine

[ part 6 ] || [ masterlist ] || [ part 8 ]

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"It's best we go now and tell Amber that we didn't find anything." Aether decided, having finished eating, you found yourself walking Paimon and Aether out of the hilichurl camp, your warm friend was dozing off after having their fill of wood and pinecones.

"That would be true." You couldn't help but feel a bit sad having to part with them, though your time in this world was short, it felt forever since you had any decent human conversation. Sure the pyro slime and the hilichurls were very welcoming and accomodating but it was hard to have a clear conversation with them due to a language barrier, and the few people you had met in Mondstadt were either a rumored puppet (Katheryne) or tried to kill you in the end (Jean and Lisa).

Noticing your disappointment, the blond haired boy promised you something that made your smile return "Don't worry, I'm not leaving you permanently. I'll come by once the close is clear but. ."

He eyed the Hilichurl group "I think you shouldn't stay here any longer, the knights might come to take care of this camp before it gets to big. . they may find you."

Your eyes widened slightly, you didn't want the Hilichurls who took you in to get hurt. . "I'll keep that in mind. ."

"Here." His hand glowered brightly as he brought out a bow and a quiver filled with arrows, "This should help you in the long run." he said, he didn't want to leave you, not when you clearly couldn't fight to protect your life, but being with him while Mondstadt had his eyes on him would only risk you getting found out.

"Thank you. ." despite your hesitance you forced yourself to take the weapon. . 'right. . I shouldn't hesitate. They never did, so I shouldn't. Not when my life is on the line.'

When the duo had left in the dead of the night, you turned around, basking once more in the peaceful hilichurl tribe. Most of them were asleep, cuddling with each other for warmth near the weak bonfire that your pyro buddy managed.

The children were latched onto the older ones, the samachurl dozing off while stilling sitting, clutching their staff in their hands. Knowing that the Hilichurls were overprotective of you (for a reason you cannot quite comprehend at the present), you decided you must leave the hilichurl group for both of your own safety's. But not now, you at least wanted to be just a bit selfish.

You sat next to the dozing campfire, hugging your knees close to your chest. 'There's a lot to be done.' you thought, hand wondering to a nearby hilichurl's head, feeling their soft fur or hair, you found your fingers gently coming through the tangles.

Their origins were not unknown to you, and that made it harder for you to stay and leave them. To stay would put them at a risk of the knights attacking them to get through to you, while leaving them would damn them of the punishment placed on to them. You could not stay and defend them when she didn't even have any combat prowess.

Despite being a former culinary arts students, you had experience due to playing Genshin Impact. There was a way to make sure the hilichurl group would not be ill-equipped. Of course helping them get stronger may mean they'd end up hurting innocent civilians but. . they were much better than the people, so you didn't need much more convincing.

Come the next few days you helped in fortifying their walls and making simple watch towers out of wood so their archers would have better leverage. Of course all you did was draw the watchtower and they understood what you were trying to convey to start building it.

The Samachurl was also able to help with communication, but they way that the Sama looked at you meant he was beginning to understand why you had them do these things. You thought the younger hilichurls how to cook and prepare food that weren't just meat but also those with vegetables.

"You need to eat your vegetables okay?" "nye!" a hilichurl huffed, crossing their arms and turning away. "Hey!"

You also accompanied them when they went hunting and foraging, they taught you how to prepare birds and boars to turn into food and meet, while you taught them how to season them and prepare it so the food will last longer.

They helped you learn how to use a bow and in turn the first prey you had caught were given to them. When you realized that they were now able to live more efficiently, you decided to leave that particular night.

You left half of the food and ingredients you had foraged, the rest going into your inventory. As you walked out of the camp, you found yourself turning back only to flinch at the Samachurl who appeared right in front of you.

"Unu. ." the sadness in his voice conveyed that he knew you were about to leave, without planning to return. . at least for a long while.

Swallowing away your nerves, you responded by simply bowing deeply in respect and gratitude "Valo. . for everything."

"a. .ah." the Samachurl coughed, once again he spoke in broken human language. . "p. please, come back, ye unu. . we're your odomu." and he bowed in front of you, much deeper, almost falling to the ground as he regarded with reverence.

You straightened up, feeling a mixture of emotions as you approached him, arms enveloping his much smaller form as you placed a kiss on his forehead. "I will."

🏹⁀➴˚ ✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

Find yourself alone made you feel solemn and rather lonely, but you resisted the urge to go back. Due to the terrain of Brightcrown mountains, there were so few paths you could take. Since you weren't a skilled rock climber nor did you feel safe swimming at cider lake with its proximity to city of freedom, you decided to take the path that lead south, to the sub area Windwail Highland.

Windwail Highland consisted of Dawn Winery, Wolvendom and Springvale. Your goal was to go to Wolvendom, due to it being home to the wolves, it was a less popular sight in the region. There were few people there, actually you were sure that there would only be one person to worry about, Razor.

Wolvendom held something precious you would need after all, Wolfhook, it was not because you wanted to try cooking with them. . . okay partly it was, but it was mainly for its medicinal properties! Since you couldn't go to the city and get healed by someone like Barbara, you could only rely on homemade remedies and recovery food.

Of course recovery food were for hp in the end, you don't think they'll heal any broken bones you may get along the way. But since you didn't know how to exactly use them, you also had to improvise this entire journey of yours to make sure you live.

You eyed the lake that entered your vision, as your hand placed itself on a waypoint, ignoring it whirl to life you turn to the fork in the path. One leading to the winery, the other leading to Liyue. If Aether hadn't told you why you were being targeted by Mondstadt, you'd have probably escape to Liyue using this path by now but. .

if Mondstadt, the city of freedom itself wanted you dead without any due process, what of Liyue? Liyue, a region steeped in tradition, this creator was respected in the entire continent. . thinking about it, there wasn't really any safe places for you to go to, to seek refuge in.

Even if there were people who would willingly protect you and house you, you'd no doubt feel guilty for putting them in potential harm's way. You massaged the lower half of your face as you decided to continue trekking on, but instead of feeling your skin, you felt a fabric around you. "Ah right" you murmur as you remembered making a half-assed veil to cover the majority of your face. The hilichurl masked had been an option but that would garner more attention to yourself as a human dressed as a hilichurl.

But with the apparel you were wearing you could easily play yourself off as being a nomad from a far of region, possibly the Sumeru Desert, the clothes would be close enough to it and considering there were few or none sumeru visitors in Mondstadt except for Lisa (who has been away from the dendro region for years) then you were safe.

The smell of grapes seemed to linger around the area now, and lo and behold, you could see Dawn Winery with its grapevines in full glory. Curiously you stopped to stare, watching as numerous maids and workmen were hauling the harvest to the house.

"Oh hello there, is there anything we can do for you?" You flinched as you turned to find a maid approach her, one with short light blonde hair and green eyes, her appearance was very familiar to her but the name was definitely on the tip of your tongue.

"U-uh no, sorry I just smelled some grapes." You awkwardly stood, wondering if the maid knew about the wanted 'Imposter' on the loose.

The woman nodded, a smile on her face. "I see, here at Dawn Winery, we grow a lot of varieties of grapes that are used for our wine and some other special ingredients." she added helpfully.

"Is it harvesting season then?" you asked curiously, the woman nodded "yes, for one of our rotations. We are actually hiring some adventurers for some labor. Are you by chance one of those adventurers who saw our request?"

Immediately you shook your head "Ah I'm an adventurer, yes. But I haven't seen this request of yours."

"Ah I see"

Seeing her disappointment you added "however if you still need an extra pair of hands, I can help." you offered and she instantly smiled. "That's great, why don't you follow me and I can explain to you what we need to do!"

You nodded, taking a steady pace as you followed behind the woman who'd you come to realize was Adelinde. All you had to do was harvest the grapes in one section of the winery, then help with the cleaning then the delivery of a wine. "Apparently, the Knights are ordering for abled men to partake in the hunt of a person impersonating out great Creator." Adeline offhandedly mentioned, which explained why most of the people in the area were either maids or much older workers that probably did not meet Jean's standards for participants.

"I see, that must have been a trouble for your business." You nodded along as you grabbed a wooden basket, and started working. You were too far into it to leave anyways, and hopefully they'd pay you a lot for the menial labor. Maybe finally you could escape the nightmare that is minimum wage.

The grapes looked juicy and plump, you were almost tempted on snacking on a few but you didn't want to return Adelinde's kindness with eating their grapes. You could probably make some raisins with the grapes.

"Oh Master Kaeya, what are you doing here?" You flinched at Adelinde who was greeting a boy with dark blue hair. "Hello Adelinde" he greeted respectfully, without a hint of teasing. From the corner of your eye you could see him interact with the maid.

A shaky sigh escaped your lips, hoping the captain would not notice you. "I heard you were short on hands so I thought I'd stop by and assist you."

"Don't tell me you ditched your work." The woman huffed, hands on her hips, but she didn't look too annoyed. "Maybe, maybe not. But it's okay, Diluc is working with the Knights at Jean's behest." He waved her off.

"I see, thank you for your help. . but are you sure? this situation is very important. It is true that there is an imposter like in the prophecy?" Adelinde asked with a hush whisper, but you found that the wind carried their voices to you making it easier for you to eavesdrop.

"Supposedly, but I would not rule out this imposter for simply having a few similar features with her divinity." Kaeya said with a small sigh, the maid skeptically wondered "that is true but. . are they truly going to execute this person on sight. . what if they are actually the creator?"

If Adelinde had a choice, she would rather give it time to truly determine this person's status before deciding to execute them on the spot.

"I would agree. But maybe Diluc could bring reason to Jean."

"Hopefully, Jean has always been fond of Diluc, maybe she'd listen to him."

Oh? did that mean Jean did have feelings for the red haired dark knight? you couldn't help but cover your mouth with your hand, finding the tea to be interesting.

"But you know, I wonder why Jean is acting like this, usually she's so level headed." Adelinde sighed cupping her cheek in dismay, she was quite disappointed with the acting grand master's choice of actions.

"Well you know it is quite a sensitive topic, it seems like she wants to curry favor with the great Creator after being neglected." Kaeya unabashedly exposed Jean's secrets. You blinked in confusion, hands stopping as if frozen from harvesting another grapevine. Jean was neglected by the creator?

'so like mommy issues or God Issues?'

You couldn't help but ponder the implications of what was revealed to you, that meant that the God was still active in some ways but still silent.

Then you remembered something, you had jean, you had pulled for a character you had wanted only to lose 50/50, and because by then she was out of meta you didn't bother using her, only building her to get the few free wishes. .

You nearly dropped your basket as something cold washed over you. . something, something was clearly wrong.

°🥂⋆.ೃ🍾࿔*:･

After harvesting all the ready grapes in the section Adelinde instructed you, you found them ready the grapes into wooden buckets as the other more experienced maids handled the work. "Why don't you take a seat and wait, the others are loading up the wine in the cart." Adelinde offered as you nodded in relief, you found your feet hurting from standing on unpaved paths without any proper protection.

"By the way," you flinched, turning to Adeline who simply smiled at you, unaware of your unease "I never got your name."

"It's [Name]." you said with a slight nod as you then headed to the chairs and tables scattered around the estate. You felt your stomach rumble, finding yourself starving. You should cook something, you wondered if you can borrow the nearby cooking pot. "Why hello there?"

Your eyes widened, turning to meet Kaeya, how long had he been aware of your presence? how long had you been distracted by your hunger to not notice him approaching?

"I've never met you before, you are?"

"[name] just a nomad." you answered with a frown, eyes narrowing at the captain. What was he up to? even though he seemed to not agree with Jean's witch trial, he was still a wildcard.

"Oh? from where?" he took the seat next to you, a smile plastered on his face.

"The desert in Sumeru."

Your answers were short and had a sharp edge, but it did not deter the Cavalry captain who only seemed more and more amused. You wondered whether Aether trusted the man enough to tell him about what he knew of you.

"Oh really? I've never been there before. What's it like?"

"Unbearably hot during the day, cold during the night. There are also a lot of eremites and mercenary." You answered. Could he even confirm or deny your claims? sure he had connections, but did it reach towards Sumeru who was quite far?

His fingers tapped the wooden table that separated the two of you, "I've never been to Sumeru before, could you tell me more about it?" he asked, putting on his charismatic tone. "What do you care for then?" you gritted out.

"How about the cuisine?"

Your eyes widened slightly, and you found yourself going into a long rant about the food in Sumeru. Although you could never truly describe it's by its taste, having never eaten it. You vividly remember its description.

"The pita pockets are very tasty and filling, I made it once (recreated) and it was delicious. You can change the fillings, I tried one with a filling similar to what I usually use in Quesadillas. But you can change it to have some lettuce or tomatoes and pork. But if you want a dish you can try the Tandoori Roast Chicken, it's similar to the Sweet Madame but instead of being sweet it's more savory with spices." You continued on ranting as Kaeya blinked, he was not expecting this.

He wasn't able to cut in for awhile as you passionately talked about the food from Sumeru, sometimes you complained about the ingredients, other times you gushed about how delicious it was when you cooked it or how disappointed you were when you hadn't.

"Personally I always wanted to try their Shawarma wraps, but I haven't had the chance to recreate it as well as the Rose custard. I love pudding, what about you?"

"oh uh" he blinked again, not expecting you to stop as you, again, were rather passionate. Realizing it as well, you reeled back, cheeks and ears taking on a rosy hue as you apologized, definitely embarrassed for chatting his ears off.

"It's alright" he found himself chuckling, for some reason, when you had your guard down and began talking with such passion, he found himself relaxing, warming up to your more genuine side.

"Personally I'd prefer a good meal that could be paired with some wine." He commented, he propped his arm up by placing his elbow on the table, as he leaned his cheek on his palm. "Since you came from Sumeru, have you tried any Mondstadt dishes?"

You shook your head, you didn't have a chance to because of Jean and Lisa, you bitterly thought. "How about I treat you?" he offered and suddenly the sound of your stomach pitifully grumbling was heard, you wanted to die as he said with an amused smile "I'll take that as a yes then."

Rather than actually buying you food, he took it upon himself to cook you something. The blue haired knight had borrowed the kitchen in the Ragnvindr estate. You sat patiently on a stool as you watched him worked, wondering if he was always this easy going with people? To cook for someone, well to you that was rather intimate after all.

You smelled the scent of fruit, and quickly you realized he was making his signature dish. If cooking for someone you just met wasn't intimate, then cooking your signature dish for someone you weren't even close to was definitely intimate.

"Here you go, a plate of my famous Fruity Skewers." he said after a few moments, presenting you with a plate with his signature dishes. It looked more appetizing than the base recipe which was the chicken-mushroom skewers, you could see the slices of cucumber and onions paired with the chicken and mushrooms which had a shiny coat to it, probably from the wine he used to marinate. With a hum you took a skewer and bit into it.

Kaeya watched with slight interest at how your eyes sparkled from the dish, you licked your lips after finishing a skewer and when you turned to him, any apprehension you had towards him was gone. "This is delicious!"

When you had recreated his signature dish back at home, you clearly didn't do any justice for his signature dish. Perhaps it was the wine, no, it was definitely the wine you had used that failed to capture it's essense.

"I'm glad you liked it. You are. . quite enamored with food huh?"

You weren't offended by his remarks, instead you proudly sat straighter, as you jabbed your thumb towards yourself "That's right. I'm a foodie."

"A foodie?" he repeated, a certain shift in his tone that you hadn't noticed.

"That's right," you smiled "a foodie is basically a person who is very interested in food!"

"That seems like an understatement, when I take you for an example." At his words you blushed, chuckling as you remembered how you rant off moments ago, on just the sumeru dishes alone.

The two of you began eating in the kitchens, you were sure Adelinde had pop by once but immediately closed the door but you weren't too sure. Kaeya wasn't bothered, taking the time to savor the meal as you decided to return the favor by making some desert.

I use he/they pronouns for the slime, they/them for hilichurls but some I used he/him. The samachurl is he/they. Since I'm writing a female reader, i usually use her, but it's mostly 'you'.

I'm sorry you had to leave them, it's for the story's progression.

oh and this story is going to be definitely lighthearted with a few pinches of angst, how you treat characters when you were playing the game will definitely affect their standing on you. Well at least in Jean's case.

Current compiled suggestions to name the pyro slime <3

Fuji_Sen has suggested! Lava Cake or "Java" based on the food / coffee" Fuji_Sen has suggested! Monsieur Creme Brulee or "Creme" based on the food. @Fantasyhopperhea has suggested! Soleil or "Sol" @Cactus4226 has suggested! Ruru (Py-ro, ro -> ru -> ruru) @bunniotomia has suggested! Helios or "Hel" @airyravenmaid has suggested! Cinnamon or "Cinna"

taglist:

@fantasyhopperhea @rhoswen-drake @cchiiwinkle @aman3kkun @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @bunniotomia @esthelily

@earth-to-name @fandomfan-102 @kh1ffy @jiyeons-closet @dragontammerz / @mercy-not-merci @aryuunachigiri @randomnatics @alexx197197 @keirennyx @vianitry @game-savvy @laviniadraws

If you are not tagged successfully that means tumblr thinks you are a bot (because you don't have posts, or much interaction), you have been shadowbanned, or your visibility is set to prevent you from being tagged.

check here for more info.

I recommend checking your visibility or post and reblog a couple of times to fix the issue, if you don't know if you're shadowbanned check if you have the message function, if not you probably are.

also I repeat, if this chapter is old (meaning there is a more latest one) please request to be add in the taglist there, it's much easier for me to filter the newer requests from the old ones, :'D

[unknownperson246]

a/n: Okay can you do a fluff fic with Izzy Stradlin x female reader

She just gave birth to their daughter Layla and when they get home from the hospital the rest of gnr (Axl, Steven, duff, and slash) are all excited and waiting to meet her. I also want Izzy to be like super sweet dad and she’s got him wrapped around her finger

Layla:

Words: 684

Warnings: *fluff*

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

You were in the hospital room with your newborn daughter Layla who was born at 5:00 am today. Even though she was just born she already resembled Izzy. She had his eyebrows, nose, and lips. She had your hair color. If you put Izzy and Layla side by side they looked the same. She was cooing in your arms. Izzy was mesmerized and fascinated by her. She had her little hat and gloves on. Once Izzy got to hold her he felt a feeling he’d never felt. Something got him protective of his newborn daughter when he held her in his arms for the first time. She was so sweet, so innocent so gentle. Izzy wanted to be there for her for any occasion in her life. Later on, when you were discharged you got home and put Layla in her crib. Weirdly enough she wasn’t a crier. You were worried she wasn’t crying much. She must have her father's mood and aura you think to yourself. You giggled at your thought. Izzy called Axl and let him know that Layla was born safely this morning. Axl called the rest of the guys and let them know. They were all so happy and excited they wanted to visit your small family to see how you were doing. 

“Babe, let me hold her, you just take care of yourself and rest. You have to recover from birth.” Izzy said, smiling as he gently rocked Layla, his new baby girl in his arms. 

He gently kissed your forehead and hand and he repeated the same with his daughter. He softly hummed a melody he was working on to Layla. Soon enough there was a knock on the door. It was Axl Steven Slash and Duff. They all had bought something for Layla. Slash and Duff bought clothes. Steven and Axl had bought baby toys for Layla. 

They saw you resting on your bed and they didn’t want to disturb you because they knew how exhausted you were. Axl usually is all rowdy as were the rest of the guys but they knew they had to be careful and quiet with Layla. 

“What did you both name her?” Axl asked quietly to Izzy. 

“Her name is Layla,” Izzy said with a proud smile. 

“Hi Layla,” Slash said, holding Layla's tiny hand. 

“Can I hold her?” Duff asked.

Duff himself was expecting a daughter with his girlfriend Susan. 

“Sure. Make sure to support her head” Izzy said gently handing Layla to Duff. 

“You all get a turn holding her if you want,” Izzy said.

Layla cooed softly.

“She looks so much like you, Izzy,” Steven says, comparing Layla and Izzy. 

“Yep, my genes took over,” Izzy said proudly.

“Hey maybe My daughter and your daughter will be best friends” Duff giggled looking down at Layla and then Izzy. 

“I want to hold her,” Steven said.

“Sure. Hold her the same way Duff held her. 

“Yeah,” Steven said gently, grabbing Layla and cradling her in his arms. She could sense Steven’s voice and she giggled. 

“Holy shit she just giggled,” Steven said surprised.

“Wow I didn’t even know newborns could giggle,” Slash said. 

“I wanna hold Layla,” Axl said. 

Axl didn’t seem like the type of guy to want kids. The truth is he wanted kids of his own so badly. He longed for kids but that didn’t end up happening for him yet. Steven passed Layla to Axl and he felt a sense of awe wash over him. She watched Axl with her eyes and smiled quickly. Even though she was just born she felt safe in everyone’s arms. Slash was next and he held on for dear life. He was clumsy and he didn’t want to hurt Layla so he made sure to sit while holding her.

“She is so tiny. Damn, I wonder what my kids are going to look like” Slash said giggling. 

Layla was passed down to Izzy. Layla had him wrapped around his finger. Layla felt so much love as a newborn. She already had everyone’s affection before she was even born. 

[bluedalahorse]

I mentioned wanting to write a fic about how things become a little more functional between Simon and August in their 20s, so here’s the scenario I want to write the fic about:

Simon and Wilhelm are close to graduating university. Felice is doing studies abroad in some capacity, and Sara is on the other coast of Sweden. August has just returned from university at Georgetown and is taking up some crown prince duties.

Simon and Wilhelm didn’t go to the same school—they each ended up in a school that fit their study needs—but they’re about 1-1.5 hours apart by train. They try to see one another relatively often, maybe on the weekends. They each have their own set of friends at their own school. In the final semesters of university, Simon gets involved in some particular, career-related project I haven’t decided on yet, which takes up a little more of his time. Their relationship is a little more “long distance” than usual but they still care for each other.

Wille’s having a rough go of it, though. In part he’s struggling academically, in part because he’s feeling the identity pressure of, who is he exactly? He’s done a lot of exploring over the past years, after leaving the crown, because trying to find yourself after a life of being told who you need to be is an ongoing process. He’s still trying to figure things out. There might be some Gender in the mix, too. (I am a they/he Wille truther.) Anyway, some of Wille’s university friends use recreational drugs, never in a way where they’re pressuring him but in a way where he’s around it. And with things being tough, Wille uses a few times in a “just for fun, just this once” sort of way, and then it begins to escalate.

Simon obviously notices that Wille is using, because his life story and what he remembers of life with Micke means he will notice. And immediately he knows he wants to get Wille help, but he’s also terrified of this becoming a situation where he feels like he has to handle everything by himself. He enlists the help of Sara and Felice from afar, he talks to Linda about it, but he realizes he also needs help from someone in Wilhelm’s family. Someone who sort of knows the upper class pressures and the way Kristina and Ludwig can be and all those insider things. It’s the kind of thing he might go to Erik about if Erik were alive, but Erik isn’t alive, and who was Erik anyway?

Well… over the past six or seven years, Wilhelm and August have been doing their best to have some kind of relationship. It starts awkward and hesitant at first, but becomes something over time. They try to check in on the phone once a week, and they try to coordinate their plans going in to family Christmas and such. They know what they are going to say if Kristina tries to pit the two against one another, they know how to cover for the other if one of them just wants to duck out of the fifth course of dinner and just scream. They can talk each other through panic attacks now and grieve together. Maybe Erik was the brother each of them wanted. Maybe they are also becoming the sibling each of them needed, inch by inch.

And Simon knows this, and has been okay with it happening because Wille respects his boundaries around it and has kept his Simon sphere and his August sphere separate so far.

But now Wille is in danger, and Simon knows he wants someone from Wille’s family (the part of Wille’s family he’s not part of, anyway) to help him.

So he calls August at an awkward time of day and says, “Hi. I didn’t want to have to do this, but I need your help.”

And August has noticed the signs of a growing addiction in Wille as well—of course he has, he has watched his father, he has dealt with this himself—and was about a day away from calling Simon in desperation.

“I need your help, too,” August says.

So they end up banding together to help Wille, to make sure Wille feels supported by both of them, to handle as much as possible before Kristina can swoop in (or before they have to call her in, in a careful and coordinated way.)

Simon and August end up talking about their own fathers, and realize they share some experiences, that they can relate to each other’s hypervigilance, even if they came from different social classes. How would things have been different, they wonder, if they had known this from the start?

As Simon opens up to him, August comes to realize the extent to which Simon still lives with the aftermath of the video. August realizes that yes, Simon is getting incredible grades and gaining people’s respect and presenting at music conferences around Europe as an undergraduate, and that still coexists with the pain and the fear. August has always loathed himself for posting the video, but his remorse takes on a new texture, one that is more inclined toward positive action steps than wallowing.

As August opens up to him, Simon comes to realize that August loved Sara, that August still regrets not loving Sara the way she deserved to be loved. Simon has to some extent rationalized August’s falling in love with Sara as fuckboy manipulation tactics—that’s easier to believe—but he notices the similarities between how August loves and how Wilhelm loves, how they both burn so bright for another person that they sometimes can’t see that person clearly. Simon starts to see how August tries to care for other people and make them feel like they belong, even if it doesn’t always look the way he expects.

We were all so young then, Simon and August think.

Wilhelm looks at these two unexpected people who love him and want him to be well (who love them, they tentatively suggest, as August and Simon each hold one of their hands.) Wilhelm is surprised and a little afraid and also a little… hopeful?

We are all so young now, they all think. And yet we are still growing.

And together they build something new.

[cripplecharacters]

Is a young person (24) with arthritis and joint pain in only the shoulder good representation of chronic pain or not?

Also, is giving a character who's supposed to represent myself a disability (a amputee with prosthetic leg) not ok if I don't have the disability in real life?

Thank you so much!

( I apologize if the last question is offensive, it's a story I made with friends and some intense things happen, it's a genuine question 🥲)

Hello!

The answer to both questions is that it depends.

The first situation can be an accurate depiction of chronic pain but what makes it good representation versus bad representation (Or something in between) is how you go about it. Even if a disability is portrayed with 100% accuracy, it can still be bad representation because of how the creator goes about it.

In regards to the second one, that depends a lot on what you mean by it representing yourself and it's also one that will get you some pretty different answers. What's offensive or not offensive is entirely subjective. Sure, there are some things that are generally considered best to avoid but whether or not they're offensive depends on if an individual person is offended by it.

In my own opinion, I think that it can be fine depending on what you mean. If it's an OC that takes inspiration from your life and experiences, I don't see any issues with it. If it's a character that is otherwise entirely a self-insert, it feels a bit iffy to me. If the only thing you're changing is to give the character a disability, I'd want to know more about why that is.

The other thing to be careful with is if other people are under the impression that this character is meant to be you. For example, if you're making one of those 'meet the artist' reference sheets for an art blog, viewers are generally under the impression that what they're looking at is a direct representation of yourself. If you add in the amputation with no other context, you run the risk of giving people the wrong idea and appropriating disability for your own purposes (Whatever that may be).

Again, this is just my opinion on the matter and is only a general overview. My opinion on it depends greatly on what the situation is.

As a final note: We're a blog for people (Especially abled people) to ask questions about writing disability. If asked in good faith, no question is bad! There may be some that are difficult or uncomfortable to answer but that just means that they should be asked.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus