#maybe don’t throw rocks from your glass house

[ildiavoloro55o]

It’s funny how people who still can’t get over fucking Silverstone 2022 are telling us Carlos girlies (gn) to stop being dramatic over a thing that happened almost a week ago. 🙃

[not-neverland06]

we're dating? ♡

logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

One-shot A/N: I've decided using the same X-men name/powers for the reader in my Logan fics is easier because coming up with superpowers is hard and stupid. They call you flux, like once, it's really just a nickname incoming warning for fluff so bad you'll get a cavity Summary: You're on probation from the team and official house arrest after a little accident with your powers. Logan knows you're going stir-crazy so he takes you to the arcade for some fun. And then your friendship takes a weird turn. (80's timeline in mind, but characters not from the 80’s will be mentioned) Clueless!reader

You’d had an accident, a few weeks ago. Well, accident might be downplaying it too much. You’d destroyed the garden and left a ten-foot crater in the backyard of Charles’ prestigious grounds. In your defense, you had warned them all that it wasn’t a good idea to take your cuffs off. 

The metal bands are entirely necessary to make sure you can’t lose control and wipe out everything around you. Manipulation at an atomic level is beyond fatal. You don’t want to think about what would have happened if you’d had the meltdown and the kids were anywhere near you. 

Charles had been able to shut you down, but now he’s keeping you on probation. You’ve been locked up in the mansion, unable to leave until you managed to get your abilities under control. There’s never been a problem with wearing the cuffs before. You don’t understand why he’s so against them now. 

You’re going stir-crazy. There’s only so many times you can pace your room before you start to lose your mind. He’s not even letting you teach classes anymore. You’re stuck training, all day, every day. 

“Focus!” Charles snaps and you resist the urge to turn his bones liquid. Maybe that would get him off your back. 

Instead of killing your friend, you glare at the large tank of water in front of you. You do what you’ve been doing for the past half hour. It fluctuates from liquid to gas to solid, and then liquid again. An endless cycle of repetition that makes you want to melt your brain so you don’t have to do this anymore. 

You drop your hand and huff. “This is pointless, Charles. What’s this even teaching me?”

He crosses his arms, walks over to you, and pointedly glares at the tank in front of you. You roll your eyes and look back at it. “Shit,” you hiss. In your frustration, the glass has cracked and splintered into dust. Water pools around your stool and leaks through the wood of the floor. You flick your wrist, the glass swirling around you before reforming into the tank. The water follows along, droplets lifting from the floor and dropping back into the container. 

“One moment of frustration, of distraction. That’s all it took.” Charles shakes his head and walks back over to his desk. He picks the cuffs up and you slip them silently back onto your wrists. “How can you be trusted to protect your team on the field if you can’t control this? What are you going to do when you’re panicked and fighting for your life?”

Shame bubbles in your gut. It makes you nauseous and forces your eyes to the floor so you don’t have to face him. He sighs, placing his hands on your shoulders and squeezing gently. You glance up at him briefly and he offers a strained smile. 

“This is for your protection, as much as you hate it, Flux. It’s necessary.” You scoff at the use of your X-Men name. Not much of an X-Man if you’re not even on the field anymore. 

“Right,” you mutter. “Thanks for the lesson in incompetency,” you don’t let him respond and slam the door to his office closed behind you. You feel bad the second you get outside and onto the porch. He doesn’t deserve your bitchiness. It’s your own fault you can’t get a handle on this. You don't have anyone to blame but yourself. 

You let out a dramatic sigh, throwing yourself into a rocking chair and running your hands over your face. The once comforting weight of your cuffs is now oppressing. It just feels like a constant reminder of your failure. You should already have a handle on all of this, but you struggle to even manipulate water. 

“Rough day?” You don’t open your eyes as Logan walks by. He takes a seat on the rocking chair beside you, letting out a low groan as he stretches. 

You let your hands drop into your lap, staring at the sunset so you don’t have to face him. You’ve already dealt with enough dejection today. You don’t need to look at him and be reminded that you want him in a way you can never have. 

“Mhm,” you hum, propping your head in your hand as you watch the sun disappear behind the clouds. The sky is painted in hues of pink and orange that seem too hopeful for how you feel right now. 

Logan chuckles, the sound low and gravely. It makes your heart stutter in your chest and you cringe in embarrassment. You know he can hear the way your heart practically beats free of your ribs when you’re around him. You’re sure with that nose of his he can smell some sort of hormonal change in you every time you lay eyes on him. 

You swear you’ve never felt this way about a man before. You haven’t had many boyfriends before, it’s not really common among mutants. Not many people are accepting of you when they know what you are. And some people are too into you. 

But you've had crushes, and none of them have been as bad as this one is. You want to gnaw on him. It sounds fucking insane every time you think about it. But when you train with him and he tears his shirt off, you want to sink your teeth into him and never let go. 

You feel feral around him, a side of you surfacing that you’re not used to. Maybe it’s because of his mutant abilities. They are very animalistic, it’s easy to blame that on how desperately you crave him. 

You hate being around him and despise not being in his presence. It’s conflicting, and more often than not you sound like a bumbling idiot when you speak to him because your brain is going in a million different directions. 

You hear the familiar click of his lighter and then he shifts again. You risk a peek over at him and regret it the second you do. His head is tilted back, eyes closed in relaxation as he stretches across the porch. Smoke leaks out of his lips as he groans in satisfaction. 

You have to pick your jaw up off the floor and make sure there isn’t drool on your chin. This is insane. You’re a grown woman, how does he have this much of an effect on you? He’s not even doing anything! He’s just sitting there and you want to jump his bones. 

You whip your head around, mumbling incoherently to yourself to get it together. Logan peaks an eye open and you miss the mischievous tilt to his lips. “Something wrong?”

I need to have sex with you or I’m going to explode. 

You stutter for a few seconds, getting your mind back together. “Just training with Charles,” you mutter. 

He sits up a little straighter and quirks a brow. When you don’t continue he sighs. “And?” He prods, impatient for your answer. You hope you’re not reading into it, but you think he’s been as disappointed by your absence from the team as you are. He always complains about being partnered up with Scott. You like to think it’s because he misses you. But you’re probably just delusional. 

“And, nothing,” you sigh. Your hands flop against your legs and you glare at the bands on your wrists. “No progress. I still can’t control them without these on, and my abilities are watered down and useless with the cuffs.”

Logan huffs, you’re caught off guard by the sudden warmth on your thigh. You glance down, eyes widening ever so slightly when you see his hand on your leg. It nearly covers the whole thing and when he squeezes your thigh you think you’re going to pass out. 

You’re friendly. But you’ve never been touchy. At least not like this. The placement of his palm is very intimate and you are struggling not to just get on your knees and profess your undying love. You take in a deep breath, looking up at him so you can get your heartbeat under control. 

But looking at him just makes it worse. Because there is so much faith and fondness in his gaze as he looks at you. His lips are tilted up, eyes soft, and you’ve never had someone make you feel so warm and secure from just a look. 

“You aren’t useless,” he tells you. He squeezes your thigh again before he retreats back to his chair. You have to clamp your jaw shut so you don’t beg him to keep touching you and never stop. “You’re just stuck in this house all day. You’ve got nothing to do but sit in your failure.”

You scoff and throw yourself back in your seat. “Don’t remind me. I’ve begged Charles to let me out.” Your gaze drifts to the crater in the backyard. Some of the kids have been working on filling it in, but whatever energy you’d let go of has left a permanent mark. “He refuses to give me permission.”

Logan laughs, the noise teasing and a little mean. Your brows furrow and you glance over at him with a questioning look. He tilts his head in disbelief like you’re an idiot. “Seriously, Flux? Just fuckin’ leave, who gives a shit?”

“Uh,” you think on it for a minute before weakly settling on, “Charles?”

His face falls and you sink lower into your seat. He looks out at the yard, gaze distant. His jaw clenches a few times before he puts the cigar out on the ashtray beside him. He gets to his feet and you think he might just leave. Instead, he turns towards you. 

You’re caught off guard by the little smirk on his face. “Wanna have some fun?”

Only an idiot would say no. 

You grin and place your hand in his, yelping slightly at how easily he pulls you to your feet. You stumble into his chest and are hesitant to back away when his hand drifts to rest on your waist. He looks down at you, smiling, he squeezes your waist once before he backs up. 

“Come on, kid.” He tugs you inside the house, leading you downstairs to the garage. You already know what he’s going for before the door is even open. 

“Didn’t Scott tell you to leave his bike alone?” Logan takes a step inside. He pauses, glancing over his shoulder and grinning at you. It makes your breath catch in your throat, the happiness on his face. You never see him like this around the others. 

You hate thinking like that. Placing too much importance on your relationship with him will only lead to heartbreak down the road. But, you never see him act the way he does with you with anyone else.

“Since when have I ever listened to Cyclops, sweetheart?” 

“Good point,” you mutter, moving to stand next to him. 

He straddles the seat and looks over expectantly at you. “Don’t you need a helmet?”

You shake your head, “Oh, no, it’ll ruin my hair.” You laugh but he gives you a deadpan look. You don’t regenerate the way he does. An accident would be a lot more fatal for you than it would be for him. You huff, “Relax, Lo, I can use my powers.” When he looks like he’s not going to drop it, you let some energy swirl around your fingers. It solidifies the air around your skin, you reach up and flick at his skull hard enough to hear the metal ding. 

He grunts, glaring down at your hand while you grin. “See,” you whisper, sliding onto the back of the bike and wrapping your arms around his waist. “I’m perfectly safe.” He shakes his head and starts the bike. 

The ride to the arcade is spent in silence. Logan always seems to break every speeding law known to man whenever he takes Scott’s bike out. You’re not sure if he does it to purposefully piss the man off, but it makes you cling to him like a wild animal. You feel like if you hit one speed bump you’re going to go flying. 

By the time he parks your legs feel like jello. He laughs a little at the way your face has blanched. Again, he offers you a hand and holds the door open to lead you inside. You’re trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but this whole thing is odd. 

You guys are friends. And you’re friendlier with each other than most of the mutants in the school. But this feels different somehow. For one, Logan kind of despises the arcade. It’s an amalgamation of bad smells and loud noises, and it overwhelms his already sensitive senses. You’ve heard him complain about the smell of body odor and fake cheese enough times when you went on a field trip with the kids. 

Secondly, he’s being more touchy than he normally would. You’re not complaining. You weren’t exactly hugged a lot as a kid, mainly just passed between different mutant fetish clubs. Logan isn’t known for handing hugs out so easily. But right now, he doesn’t seem to be ready to not have at least one hand on you. 

Maybe he’s just cheering you up. You need to stop drifting so far into your mind and just enjoy the night. “Alright, what’s first bub?”

You grin and drag him towards the claw machine. “I’m horrible at these things,” you inform him as you put your quarters in. “But, I hold out hope that one day I’ll be able to actually beat this monster.”

Three failed attempts later, it’s become embarrassingly clear that you will never beat the claw machine. Logan isn’t even trying to hide his amusement as you become increasingly more frustrated. There’s a certain point where this game stops being fun and starts to be an affront to your character. 

Logan peers into the machine and asks, “What are you going for?”

“The pigeon,” you mutter. Your tongue pokes between your lips, and your eyes narrow in concentration. You aim the claw over the pigeon perfectly and slam your hand down on the big red button. 

You’re allowed five seconds of celebration before the damn thing slips out of the claws grasp and tumbles into the pile of stuffies below. “Dammit, Bart,” you let the ridiculous name you’ve come up with for the toy slip.

Logan snorts, leaning against the glass while you jam another quarter in the slot. “Bart?” He teases. 

You shake your head and give him a look out the side of your eye. “What, you think I call myself Flux because I’m good at coming up with names?” You give up after the last failed attempt and turn to face him with a huff. 

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Tough luck, kid.” He slings an arm over your shoulder and pulls you towards the concession stand. 

“Shut up,” you laugh, slapping lightly at his chest. 

The rest of the night is nice. He doesn’t play much except for the strength-oriented games. And then you kind of just exploit him for more tickets. By the time you get back to the mansion, you’ve forgotten all about why you were upset in the first place. 

Nothing had gone wrong, you didn’t have a total meltdown and wipe out the entire arcade. You don’t know why Charles was so afraid of letting you out. 

Logan walks you back to your room, his hand heavy on your lower back as you head up the stairs. You’re talking endlessly, filling up any gap of silence with rambling you’ve lost track of. You don’t know what it is about him that invites you to yap the way you do, but you’re always embarrassed by it the second he leaves. 

You reach your door and smile up at him. “Thanks, Lo.”

He gives you a soft smile, his eyes wrinkling endearingly at the corners. He reaches up and brushes some hair off your shoulder. There’s a certain shift in his expression that has your breath stopping short. Whatever else you were going to say to him tumbles off into an incomprehensible whisper. 

He leans down and every inappropriate thought you’ve ever had about him suddenly surges to the front of your mind. Your lips part in anticipation, thinking he’s going to kiss you and your fantasies are going to come to life. 

His lips brush against your cheek so gently you almost don’t feel them. “‘Night Flux,” he leans back and your body goes with him. He backs off with a smile, walking down the hall to his own room. You feel dazed, eyelashes fluttering rapidly as you fan your cheeks and try to come to terms with what just happened.

He didn’t kiss you, but you oddly aren’t disappointed. You go to bed that night with a lovesick grin on your face. Well, you would have. Were it not for the annoyingly British voice ringing out in your head, “Training’s at four tomorrow morning. Consider it your punishment for sneaking out.”

“Fuck,” you hiss to yourself. Stupid fucking telepaths. 

You thought the arcade was a one-off moment. But Logan keeps sneaking you out of the mansion. Charles hasn’t officially lifted the house arrest, but he’s given up trying to keep you inside. Besides, you’ve essentially got a chaperone since Logan is always with you. 

You make lunch for the two of you and he’ll take you out to the woods for a picnic. Or you’ll go to the movies together. Sometimes you don’t even do anything, just linger around each other. You enjoy the company, and you love having these quiet moments together with no one else around. 

Your favorite part of all of this has to be the way he’s started touching you. He’s always got a hand on your leg or back. And if he can’t do that, then you’re tucked into his side. It’s feeding into a starved part of you that you’ve left neglected for far too long. 

It’s only been about two weeks of these fun little adventures and odd behavior. You’re dreading the moment they’ll stop. You’re not sure when Logan’s going to deem you properly cheered up, but you’re hoping it’s not anytime soon. 

There have been a few more moments where you think your friendship might turn into something more, and every time you’ve been interrupted. You’re actually starting to feel a little edged. You’ve been considering just grabbing him and planting one on him. But every time you think about it you get sick to your stomach. 

You don’t want to make a move on him and end up getting rejected. You know he’s just being a good friend and taking care of you so you don’t end up spiraling too far in your head. It’s happened before, when you’ve been struggling with your abilities. He’s just keeping you from shutting down again and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable because you’re hopelessly in love. 

When you walk out of your room this morning you’re immediately smacked in the face. “What the fuck, guys?” You yell at the two kids running past your room. Not the best language for someone who's supposed to be a role model. You can’t be bothered though, not when they’re running around throwing pink rolls of streamer at your face. 

“Sorry!” Mary calls over her shoulder, laughing as she pins a heart up onto the wall. You’re sure Charles won’t appreciate the hole in his old ass mahogany wood. It’s only as you watch her run down the stairs that you register just what is going on. 

There is pink and red everywhere. It looks like Dollar Store Cupid has thrown up all over the mansion. You’ve been so caught up in your attraction to Logan that, ironically, you’ve forgotten what month it was. 

You grumble bitterly to yourself as you trudge down the stairs. Another Valentine’s Day alone and single. How lovely. You spot two kids giggling to themselves by the banister, they lean in like they’re going to kiss and you gag. “Hey!” You snap, and they jump apart, eyes wide with fear. “Quit it, get out of here.” They scramble off and you feel just a little bit vindicated. 

“Not a fan of young love, Flux?”

You groan and roll your eyes, turning around to find a very smug Scott watching you bully teenagers. “Shut it, Summers,” you warn. You point an accusing finger at him and he raises his hands in surrender. Faux innocence played across his insufferable smirk. “When you’re in a committed relationship, you don’t get to judge me.”

His brows turn down in confusion, “Wait, but aren’t you and Logan-”

He’s cut off by the sound of a loud crash down the hall. You both turn around just as one of the classroom doors slams open. A bright pink explosion hurtles from the doors and a throng of coughing students follows. 

Jubilee walks out a minute later, a guilty expression on her face. “Sorry, I was just trying to make it more Vanetine-y.” 

You glance over at Scott, grinning widely at him while you pat his shoulder and walk past him, leaving him to clean up the mess. “Enjoy the young love, Summers.”

You actively avoid Logan all day. You’re already facing constant reminders of how lonely you are. You see kids walking around with baskets of bears and chocolates. Or you catch them passing notes in class with scribbled hearts all over the front. 

There’s only so much a girl can take before she loses it. The last thing you need is to be faced with the man you have the worst unrequited crush on in history. But he doesn’t seem to get the hint. He’s everywhere you go, popping up around corners and trying to catch your attention. 

You keep brushing him off and pretending like you have something urgent you’re going to be late for. Eventually, though, he was going to catch up with you. 

It happens in the kitchen. Most of the kids are in their rooms or the library. The noise has died down and you’re alone. You grumble to yourself, ripping down a pink streamer that keeps drifting across the top of your head and pissing you off. You grab a frozen meal from the fridge and are about to microwave it when he speaks. 

“Huh, thought you’d want something a little more romantic than a frozen burrito.” 

You gasp, clutching your chest and whirling around on him while your heart races. “Logan, Jesus, you scared me.” He’s frowning at you, eyes glaring at the frozen package in your hand. “Um,” you toss it back in the freezer but the look on his face isn’t going away. “Yeah, I might just go with cereal instead.”

He looks at you and then glances behind him. You peer around his shoulder but you don’t see anything. Without much warning, he grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the stairs. “Logan?” There’s no point in trying to resist him, he could just toss you up the stairs if he wanted to. Still, the silence is kind of creeping you out. 

You call his name a few more times but give up when he makes it clear he’s not going to be answering you anytime. There’s a rotten feeling in your stomach. You have this awful idea like you’re in trouble for something. Like a little girl who's gotten her hand caught in the cookie jar too many times. 

He stops you in front of his door and nods towards it. “You want me to go inside?” He crosses his arms and glares down at you. You huff and mutter, “Jesus, fine.” What the hell is wrong with him?

You grab the doorknob to his room, glaring at him while you do. You throw the door open dramatically, taking a step inside and surveying the area. “Wow,” you suck your teeth and shake your head. “You have not decorated at all.”

“Shut up, smartass,” he mutters in your ear. Chills prick at your skin from his proximity. A shudder goes down your spine as the low tone of his voice reverberates through you. “Look a little harder.”

You roll your eyes but acquiesce. Another run over the room finally shows you what you missed. You gasp and rush towards his bed, “Holy shit, Bart!” He chuckles behind you as you pick the stuffed pigeon up. 

“Went back for him after we left,” Logan tells you. 

You glare at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How many tries did this take you?” He mouths a smug one and you roll your eyes in irritation. You look back down at the pigeon and smile.

He smells like the inside of a claw machine. His head is sewed on crookedly and you’re pretty sure he’s missing an eye. But he’s absolutely perfect to you. You’re about to thank Logan when you spot something metal wrapped around the stuffie’s neck. “What’s this,” you mumble to yourself. 

You slide your fingers under the chain and tug it off Bart’s neck. Logan’s dog tags dangle off your fingers and you stare at him in shock. A sudden cold dread washes over you and you find yourself immobile. “Logan,” you trail off, an unspoken question following his name. 

He smirks, walking towards you and slipping the tags out of your hand. “I wanted you to have this,” he says, his voice low like this moment is too precious to break, “so you know you’re not alone. You’re always so afraid of what’s going to happen if you lose control out in the field. But you forget, you’re not alone. You have me, you’re always going to have me.” He places the tags over your neck, untucking your hair from the chain. 

You don’t even have words for him. It’s such a deeply personal gift. But this also feels incredibly intimate. There’s no possible way for you to reason this away. This isn’t something “just friends” do. 

He seems to prefer your silence, anyway. One of his hands drifts from your neck and cups your jaw. With the utmost tenderness, he lifts your face to his. “Wanted to do this for a while,” he whispers. You almost ask what he’s talking about, but his lips are already covering yours. 

It’s incredibly soft, this kiss, softer than you’re used to. He’s barely putting any pressure on you and it makes you realize that you’re still not moving. You’re just standing there in shock, eyes wide open while the man you’ve wanted since you’ve known him kisses you. 

You drop Bart to the floor and your arms come up to twine around his neck. You finally close your eyes, let your body melt into his knowing he’ll catch you. The second you reciprocate he really kisses you. Neither of you hold back, each of you pouring all the pent-up desire you’ve felt for each other. 

You’ve spent so long dancing around this, around each other. It’s like a missing puzzle piece is returned to you as Logan holds you. You feel full, complete, warmer than you ever have before. 

You part from him - needing air - painfully slow. You don’t want to spend a second away from him now that you have him. You wish you didn’t have to breathe. Wished you could have kept kissing him and never stopped. 

Logan chuckles, pressing a kiss against your forehead like he can read your thoughts. You can feel the dorky smile that’s about to split your cheeks. You bite your lip, hoping it might suppress it, but you know it’s pointless. 

You look up at him with a cheeky twinkle in your eye. “Are you asking me to be your Valentine, Lo?”

He scoffs and pulls away from you slightly. “Do you have to ask your girlfriend to be your Valentine?”

Your eyes widen and your mouth opens and closes rapidly. “I- Well- I mean,” you take a full step back from him and shake your head. “What?” You finally settle on. “I mean, I’m not objecting, at all, but what?”

Logan tilts his head, a disbelieving look on his face. “What do you think we’ve been doing the past three weeks?”

You shake your head, stuttering and struggling for an answer. “I don’t know. I thought you were being a good friend!”

He smiles, there’s no irritation on his face at your cluelessness. If anything he seems to be more endeared to you. “You think I take all my friends on romantic picnics in the woods?”

You sigh, letting out a long disappointed breath. You can’t believe you’ve been so blind. When you think about it, his behavior lately makes a lot more sense. You’re not sure how you were able to trick yourself for so long. 

“Well,” you start, walking back towards him as he pulls you into a hug, “certainly not Scott.” He huffs and shakes his head. You give him a sheepish smile, brows knitted together. “I can’t believe we’ve been dating this whole time.”

He just presses another kiss to your temple and shrugs. “It’s alright, sweetheart, you can make it up to me by being my Valentine again next year.”

There’s something unspoken in his voice. A promise that he’s planning to be around for a lot longer than a year. You smile at him, silently promising the same. “Only if you’re mine.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

a/n: i’m gonna gag actually. Made myself cringe there at the end. I want a valentine next year so bad, it’s sad. But what’s the point of a valentine if it’s not going to be Logan?

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

[gladiatorcunt]

- # ROMANS 8:7 !!

“because the mind of the flesh is hostile to god: it does not submit to god’s law, nor can it do so.”

cw: implied plus size & southern afab!reader, xmen 1 coded logan but also different, large age gap (reader early 20’s, logan…. not), implied mental health & abandoment issues, drug & alchohol mentions, consensual somno (not discussed but logan’d be down with whatever you wanted), dad/father figure bf behavior and talk (kiddo, controlling your sleep schedule, heavy daddy kink & calling him your old man, calls fucking you “feeding you” etc.), heavy werewolf/animals in general allusions & imagery (?), reader is lowkey unhinged, reader doing some solo a/b/o roleplay lol, kind of self objectification/degradation vibes due to underlying trauma, gentle dead dove like if the dove perched on a bitter old man’s dirt covered shoulder and wouldn’t leave, more of a moment in time

1k event. / please consider commissioning me!

Stubble against your lips is a damn fine way to wake up in the morning, you think with a dazed smile. The scent of the beard shampoo you have Logan use smells better than a whole poppy field ever could. There are lingering traces of cigar smoke hovering over his slightly chapped lips, but not as heavy anymore, he’s trying to quit relying on them so much. A gruff sentiment about wanting to make sure he has a better chance of sticking around to keep an eye on you, or something like that.

You were falling asleep on his sweaty abs when he said it like he was getting his teeth pulled out, but there’s merit in the fact that he could’ve cut himself off. It’s important to him to try to be better at verbalizing the feeling burning in his battered gut like a glass of whiskey on the rocks. You’d take him with open arms and open legs even if he was a worse man than the devil.

You reach down and lift his hefty hands to your still swollen lips and kiss his knuckles like you’re trying to suck his claws out of his skin and into your mouth. A painless operation, you’re used to the feeling of blades against your skin, housing them in your stomach would mean nothing if it meant you could take some of the hurt away from him. It feels like that’s your job sometimes, to jump through as many hoops as possible so that you bear the brunt of the weight Logan’s forced to deal with on a daily basis.

He stops that train of thought in its tracks when you express it, what kind of dad would he be if he let you get even a single scratch? Maybe there’s to be said for a rough and tough kind of guy getting to nurse a kitten back to health, to keep it tucked away in the crook of their muscular arm never to see the light of day without them.

You don’t offer to keep his claws sheathed safely in your pussy either, you’d lick your own blood off the ends when they eventually push through your mouth. A cock sleeve in a different outfit, daddy’s little helper. But then you see the way Logan’s face belies a sense of peace, his forehead wrinkles and the fine lines around his mouth aren’t nearly so pronounced because this is the rare moment in which he finds no reason to scowl. You know you’re worth more than a nyquil infused pussy to him, but this is where you find your use. This is how you feel content, gummy walls suckling on his fat tip because even when you’ve put your old man to bed you can’t get enough.

Logan thinks he’s just so awful, the big bad wolf slobbering on an innocent lamb’s cherry pie-sweet cunt, but you might be worse. You’d your feet and throw a fit if his nose even twitched catching the scent of someone else, you’d do far worse things than what he’s already done to keep this toe curlingly grumpy man snoring a crater into your silk pillows. You feel like a rabid chihuahua nipping at his heels to keep him inside and with you, where it’s warm and wet and there’s no death other than the little ones you experience over and over like a perverted groundhog day. He’s the only one you trust with you doing you prone bone, having faith that he’ll shield you from all the things in the world that aren’t Daddy and the cozy sticky life he provides for you.

Calloused fingers strangling your tits in the morning, your ass bent over his lap in the evening while he sits back in his recliner and soothes the sting. You’d been sick to your stomach before you met him, wandering up and down the road in New York because you insisted you could make this big move and do it all on your own. Then his denim blue pick up rumbled its way down the broken road and you’ve never looked back since.

Your heart was beating faster than a hummingbird when he rolled his eyes and pushed the passenger side door open with one hand, like you were lucky he didn’t drive off and leave you in the dirt. You had the stray thought of offering him a blow job or a tit fuck to make it worth his while, but he was squirming around to tug off his brown leather jacket and toss it at you before you could move a muscle.

Poor little kitty, last one in the box all alone in the cold. Someone wanted you though, and over time your hisses and scratches turned to cat-that-got-the-cream-AND-the-canary wails and voracious frisking.

He ‘tsks’ and bites his cheek on the days where the guilt creeps in, and you know he just can't accept that this is what you want. That you saw his maw open wide and dripping with blood-cum-tissue-bone-spittle and hopped right on the center of his dusty rose pink tongue like a good bunny.

In your daydreams the appendage is so long he can choke you with the tip of it, wrap it around you and get his unique slime and grime absorbed into the hollow of your throat. You wish he had a knot too, so he could plug you up and you’d have no choice but to take it and be so grateful that Daddy thought you were worthy of being bred and speared and kept.

God, you’d never wanted to have somebody’s baby so much. But you’re selfish too, so you don’t mind this time spent together, just the two of you. That’s a blessing in and of itself and you’ve learned not to question the rare good things in life that you’re allowed to have. The powers that be decided he’s yours and you’re his and you’ll tie your leash to his hand if that ensures he can never change his mind about taking a chance on you. If he can’t run like you tried to do when you realized he might actually love you back, that he wasn’t content to just be a dirty fantasy you had when you were alone on your trailer bed. That for the first time in your life, what you need needs you too, or wants to entertain you at the very least.

You don’t want to run anymore, and all of the credit goes to Logan recognizing that you were just a stray cat who needed someone that wouldn’t let them dart out the door at the first sign of discomfort. He forced you to be known so you could be loved and there’s no going back to a life without that, not for you. Not without being to hold Daddy’s hand when that same feeling of flight or flight knocks on your skull. Maybe you’re spiraling again because you feel empty, you said no to cockwarming the previous night because you didn’t want to be too needy. You think your pussy might’ve bitten his dick off to keep inside of it like a trophy if you followed your usual routine.

Now you’re realizing why you hardly ever say no to giving your pussy time to breathe. How can you feel whole if Daddy’s not sighing in relief when he slides home for the first time again? You remember that you're your own person like this and you hate it, you don’t belong to you, you belong to him.

So you bite your lip and slowly bring yourself up to straddle his torso, humping his abs for a second before reaching behind you and lining up your aching cunt with his already half hard prick. You get overwhelmed already, so excited and antsy and ready to greet Daddy at the door that you bounce without actually bringing your plush hips all the way down.

‘Want that knot, want it want it want it want it, fuck fuck FUCK!’

You cry when the bulbous and thick fucking tip eases into you followed by the rest of him, you can’t help it. You missed him so much, and you’re not only thinking about Logan when you say that. Trust Daddy to actually have a horse’s cock most men overcompensate for not having, long and girthy and an angry purplish-red and surrounded by a black bush and more than deserving of never being left alone for a single second.

He woke up as soon as you started grinding against him in your sleep, but he knows you’d get embarrassed if he let it slip now. Logan could open his brown eyes and say ‘I told you so, kiddo’ but he can do that after his hardening cock pushes into your cervix. A welcome home kiss for his fussy little thing, he doesn’t feel right until he cracks his eyelids halfway and peeks through to see your own roll back in otherworldly rapture.

“That’s it, right where it belongs, ain’t it doll?”

Yes, yes it is.

“Fuckin’ cum on it and then get y’r ass back to bed, y’r gonna get cranky if you stay up any later. Gotta keep you fed, get some cock in that belly, keep you fat.”

- 2024, do not copy/translate/train ai with my work

[cherienymphe]

Bubblegum Bitch (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, attempted sexual assault, dumb!reader, bimbo!reader, kook!reader, underage drinking

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ ​​

summary: ...because you’re just too dumb to look out for yourself, Rafe takes matters into his own hands.

~

You hung onto Sarah as she helped you into her house, your ankle screaming in protest with every movement. You were thinking that maybe you should’ve listened to the blonde when she told you not to climb so high on the rock, but the sunset was too pretty, and you wanted to get the perfect picture. As much as your ankle was hurting, it was kind of worth it.

“Okay, sit here, and I’ll get some ice,” Sarah told you, depositing you on her couch.

“Okay!” you chirped, distracted as you flipped through your phone to study the pictures you took. “They came out so pretty!”

You showed Sarah as she neared, and she sent you a warm smile, a soft chuckle escaping her.

“Yeah, but next time, let’s come up with a less dangerous way to get the pictures,” she advised, bag of ice in hand.

You hissed a bit when the cold touched your skin, relaxing as it started to soothe the ache.

“Your mom would kill me if you got seriously hurt again.”

You knew what Sarah was referring to, of course.

That one time you were at a bonfire and leaned too far over to roast the marshmallows, something that took forever for that particular part of your hair to grow back from. Or that time you weren’t paying attention while dipping some punch at a party, and the glass bowl holding it all fell all over you, shallow cuts adorning your feet for weeks. Your face fell some as you thought about how mad your mom had been at Sarah for not looking out for you better.

It didn’t seem fair to you.

It’s not like you were some kid who couldn’t do anything right.

“It’s just a sprain…I think,” you added, shrugging. “She doesn’t have to know.”

Sarah gave you a look at that, and just then, movement on the stairs caught your attention.

You looked up, eyes landing on a familiar face, and you smiled at the sight of him. Sarah’s brother Rafe was someone you mostly saw in passing. Sometimes you found yourself interacting with him, offering him some of your fries to which he’d dryly decline, or the odd occasion where you were in his way, hurrying to move at the mean sneer on his face. Rafe always seemed to be in a bad mood when you were around, and because Sarah assured you he was just like that, you always tried your best to cheer him up.

“Hey, Rafe,” you called.

Sarah looked over her shoulder at the sound of your voice, huffing to herself. She rolled her eyes as she turned back around, and you blinked at him when he didn’t return your smile. You watched him sigh, ignoring as you he asked Sarah where their parents were.

“Out,” the younger girl quickly replied.

You watched Rafe throw her a look at that before his gaze landed on you again.

“Any reason why she’s here?” he asked, and your brows drew together.

Something about his tone didn’t make you feel good, but you brushed it aside when Sarah just shook her head, quietly telling you to ignore him.

“I do,” she said, standing to her feet. “I’m going to get something to wrap it.”

You smiled at her as she hurried upstairs, and when you looked over, you found Rafe’s gaze on you as he leaned against the kitchen counter. You noticed that he stared at you a lot, especially when Sarah wasn’t around, and you didn’t know why. You watched his blue eyes fall to your ankle where you held the ice, and he brought the beer in his hand up to his lips.

“What happened?” he mumbled around the neck. “Try to walk and chew gum at the same time?”

You blinked, frowning a bit just as he chuckled.

“No?” you replied, confused by the odd comment. “I was taking pictures of the sunset, and I needed to get on some rocks to get a good picture…”

You trailed off when he started to laugh, shaking his head at you.

“Of course, you were,” he slowly commented. “I don’t even know why I asked.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, and you chewed on your lip, glancing away as he continued to eye you.

“Are you going to Topper’s party, tonight? I’m going with Sarah,” you tried to change the subject, smiling at him.

Rafe stared at you in silence for a while, strangely and with a frown on his face. After some time, he scoffed, pushing himself away from the counter, looking at you from beneath his lashes.

“He’s kind of my best friend, Y/N,” he slowly said. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You shuddered at the sound of your name coming from his lips. He always had a way of saying it that made you feel…uneasy. It was like when you drank just enough to feel bad but not enough to ignore it. Your chuckle was light, not thinking of that for some reason, and you nodded.

“That makes sense.”

Rafe was nearing the stairs just as Sarah reappeared at the top of them, and he kept his gaze on you for as long as possible.

“You should probably stay home though,” he threw over his shoulder. “We wouldn’t want you to fall in a hole somewhere after you’ve had too much to drink.”

Your friend hissed his name as she passed him, a deep frown on her face, but Rafe only chuckled to himself. Again, the comment had your mind wandering in confusion. Topper’s mom kept their yard to perfection, and there wasn’t a patch of uneven grass, let alone any holes. Sarah heavily sighed as she neared you with some gauze, mumbling to herself.

“He’s such an ass,” she voiced. “Seriously, just ignore him.”

That was what she always told you, but it was kind of hard to do. Rafe had a way of stealing your attention sometimes whether you wanted to give it or not, and it wasn’t just because he was pretty. He was so different from Sarah, and you guessed he fascinated you in a way. Always so grumpy and unhappy, and it seemed like no matter how much you tried to cheer him up or at least get a smile out of him, it never worked.

…and you didn’t know why.

“Don’t sweat it so much,” Kelce chuckled later that night. “Rafe is Rafe.”

He smiled at you, flicking your chin, and making you join him. Two of his friends were with him, Topper glued to Sarah’s side, and Rafe nowhere to be found. You didn’t remember their names, although you were sure you’d met them before. Their faces did look familiar, after all, and you felt bad about not being able to place them.

They didn’t seem to care much though as they returned your smile.

“That’s a cute dress,” one of them said, reaching out and pulling on the end. “You always wear the cutest stuff though.”

“Isn’t it?” you added, spinning around and making the skirt fly up a bit. “Sarah picked it out!”

“Sarah has great taste,” the other told you, eyes looking over you and admiring the dress.

You imagined he liked the color just as much as you did, and you started telling him about how it was the last one, and Sarah had to almost fight some lady for it. You were taking a sip of your drink when you took a step back, bumping into someone, and you jerked when the cold liquid spilled onto you. You gasped in shock, more than grateful when Kelce grabbed a napkin and started dabbing at the fabric.

“I got it,” you told him, reaching for it instead, but he smiled at you, insisting.

However, another hand came between you and snatched the napkin away. You blinked in shock, looking up just as Rafe’s other hand grabbed your arm, starting to pull you away.

“Hey, Rafe,” Kelce nervously chuckled. “We were just… She had an accident so…”

He trailed off, and you looked between him and Rafe as the blond pulled you away. He gave Kelce a look that you couldn’t place, the other guy and his friends sort of shrinking in on themselves.

“Uh huh,” was all Rafe said, and you stumbled with him in confusion as he led you away.

“What are you doing? Is it Sarah?”

Rafe softly chuckled to himself at that, shaking his head.

“Is it Sarah,” he mumbled, sounding more like a statement. “No, it’s not Sarah.”

He roughly let you go, making you stumble, and you frowned as he threw the napkin at you.

“Here,” he spat, huffing to himself as he looked you over. “Clean yourself up.”

You slowly did as he said, carefully watching him as he watched you, jaw clenching and eyes hard. There was that sour feeling again. Here you were, at a party and surrounded by so many people, but it strangely felt like you and Rafe were the only ones in the room. There was an uneasy feeling in your chest, and you bit your lip.

“Are you…are you mad at me?” you nervously asked.

It was a silly thing to ask because why would Rafe be mad at you? However, his rough treatment wasn’t like him. In fact, you couldn’t ever remember a time where Rafe had so much as touched you. The look he gave you was enough to curdle milk, and when he sighed, your shoulders drooped in relief.

“Nah,” he drawled, lips pressed together as his eyes met yours. “Who could be mad at you? That’d be like getting mad at a child.”

You blinked, but before you could ask him what he meant, he gruffly told you to find Sarah and stay out of trouble. You frowned a bit, still wiping at your dress as you slowly turned and did as he said. When you looked over your shoulder, Rafe was still watching you, and you guessed he wanted to make sure you found Sarah okay.

“…and…just what are you doing?”

You straightened a bit, pushing yourself to your knees as you looked up to find Rafe looking down at you. His face was pinched as he studied you, and you grinned at him, hands resting on your thighs.

“Hey, Rafe!” you suddenly remembered that he’d asked you something. “My phone fell under the couch.”

You gestured to the piece of furniture, and you were just about to bend over again when Rafe reached down to grab your arm, pulling you to your feet. You eyed him as he did the same to you before taking your place. You crossed your arms over your chest, watching him, and your confusion at his strange attitude disappeared when he reemerged with your phone. A delighted gasp left you as you reached for it, pausing when Rafe held it out of reach.

“You know, I think you’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached to your body.”

That was something your mom said often too. His eyes looked between yours, and you swallowed when he moved closer. His chest brushed against yours, and your heart raced.

“Thanks for getting it for me,” you finally said, reaching for it again to no avail.

Confusion filled you.

“If I give it to you, what will you give me?” he murmured, and you blinked, brows raising a bit.

“Well…what do you want?”

Rafe only rolled his eyes at that, chuckling before dropping your phone in your hand. You held it to you just as he moved, and you were startled by the feel of him reaching down and pulling on the end of your skirt, pulling it down some. You hadn’t even noticed that it had ridden up, and you looked at him with a smile, thanking him.

“Where’s Sarah?” he suddenly wondered, plopping down on the same couch you’d just been searching under.

“She said she was on her way, but I think she’s still with Topper.”

You watched Rafe’s blue gaze linger on your legs, and you looked down, fearful that you’d scratched yourself or something in your search for your phone. When you didn’t find anything, your eyes met Rafe’s when you looked up, and you watched the corner of his mouth curve upwards.

“You’re too nice, you know that?”

“Me?” you laughed. “I don’t think so. No nicer than anyone else.”

Rafe snorted at that, and you moved to sit down next to him as you waited for Sarah.

“If it wasn’t for Sarah, so many people on this island would eat you alive, you know.”

You didn’t understand what he meant by that, frowning, and that just seemed to amuse Rafe more. He didn’t elaborate either, opting to run his eyes over you instead, and when they landed on your skirt, he reached over to pull it down where it had ridden up some again. You softly thanked him, and he pointed at you at that, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek.

“That,” he said, shaking his head. “That is exactly what I’m talking about.”

You curiously eyed him as he stood just as you heard a vehicle in the yard.

“You shouldn’t be thanking me for something like that,” he told you with an unreadable smile. “I might take it the wrong way.”

You watched Rafe’s back as he made his way towards the stairs, only looking away when Sarah rushed in, repeatedly apologizing.

Rafe always said things like that to you, things you didn’t quite understand. To be fair, there were a lot of things you didn’t understand, but especially the things Rafe seemed to say. Why wouldn’t you thank him for making sure your skirt was pulled down? Why would he take that the wrong way? In what way?

When you’d brought it up to Sarah one day, she’d merely scoffed and called him a sick pervert before apologizing again for leaving you alone with him.

“He’s so…sleazy, sometimes, you know?”

You didn’t know, actually. Outside of his mood swings, Rafe was at least respectful to you. At least, you felt like he was, but Sarah talked about her brother like he was the scum of the earth or something. You watched her as she sprawled over her bed, eyes trained on the ceiling.

“One minute, I swear he can’t stand you and then the next it’s like he’s too into what you’re up to.”

You frowned at that, this being news to you, and Sarah seemed to realize what she said. She sighed, pushing herself onto her stomach, and your eyes met hers.

“Rafe doesn’t like me…?”

You weren’t surprised by how much it hurt to hear. Rafe was your best friend’s brother, after all, and while you two weren’t friends, you’d never been anything but nice to him. You always tried to offer him things and ask how he was and smile at him whenever you saw him.

“It’s not that he doesn’t like you,” she confessed, throwing you a sympathetic glance. “He just doesn’t think the best of you.”

You deflated some, frowning as you tried to remember if he’d ever said anything to you that you missed.

“It’s why I hate when he comes around when you’re around. He’s always being an asshole, but don’t take it too personal, okay? He’s an asshole to almost everyone.”

You’d heard that before, but still. You’d never done anything to Rafe, and hearing this made you a little sad because Sarah didn’t even say why he didn’t like you. You sat there, feeling stumped and second guessing everything. Rafe said funny things sometimes at how much pink you wore, or he’d shake his head when some jokes had to be explained to you, and he certainly seemed to get annoyed when he came downstairs to find you bending over in the fridge.

Sarah had assured you though that Rafe was just like that.

When you found yourself at another party, you did your best to stay out of his way. You didn’t want to upset him anymore than you already had, even though you didn’t know how you’d done it. You were with one of Topper’s friends that you’d seen in passing, giggling and struggling to stand with every second that passed. As you finished the last of your drink, he quickly poured you some more, and you pressed your hand to your mouth to keep from burping.

“Sarah’s going to have to carry me home,” you told him, your words coming out more jumbled together than you’d intended.

He laughed at you, an arm snaking around your waist to help you stand. You eyed his dark hair, smiling at how it contrasted with his light eyes.

“I can take you home whenever you’re ready,” he offered, and you felt yourself perk up.

“Really? Oh my God, thank you,” you sighed out. “I always feel so bad when Sarah has to look out for me.”

His pink lips pulled into a smile, and you returned it. It felt like his hand on your waist was the only thing keeping you up, and you leaned into him, feeling beyond grateful.

“You should probably finish your drink before we go though,” he suggested, and you nodded.

He was so nice to get you another, and you didn’t want it to go to waste. He helped you put one foot in front of the other as he led you across the beach and in between the bodies. You stumbled a few times, and you thanked him each time he kept you from falling flat on your face. You asked him how he knew Topper, and when he told you they went to school together, you smacked your forehead.

Almost everyone here went to what some people dubbed as Kook Academy.

“Duh,” you giggled, shaking your head.

You were just about to ask him which car was his when you were ripped away from him. Your eyes widened in shock, and you dropped what was left of your drink as you tripped over your feet. It took you a moment to realize what was going on, and when you glanced up, you smiled at the sight of Rafe. You’d been trying to avoid him for his sake, but you were always happy to see the blond.

“Hi, Rafe!”

He wasn’t looking at you, one hand on your arm and the other pushing against the chest of your new friend. You frowned in confusion as you took in the scene, realizing they didn’t look so friendly, and you noted this was the first time you’d seen Rafe really mad before.

“What the hell, bro?”

You watched Rafe shove him away, the other guy almost falling back.

“Are you crazy? You don’t think I know what you��re trying to do?”

You looked between them, and Rafe didn’t wait around for Topper’s friend to straighten himself up. You had no choice but to follow as he dragged you away, and his fast pace made your head spin even more. You asked him to slow down, but he ignored you, and you could feel your stomach turning. When he made it to the familiar black truck, he practically pushed you inside when he opened the passenger door, and with his hands on the vehicle, he had you trapped.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, his voice harsher than usual, and your brows knitted together. “Are you that stupid?”

You blinked at him, lips parting, and at that, Rafe slammed the door shut with a shake of his head. You stared at it for a few seconds, only sitting back and slowly putting on your seatbelt as he slid into the driver’s seat. The ride to your house was quiet, and you were reminded of what Sarah had told you. Why didn’t Rafe like you? What had you done now?

He was just as quiet when he made it to your house, and you noticed that your parents weren’t home. You struggled to get your door open, but it didn’t matter much when Rafe was suddenly there, yanking it open…and yanking you out too.

“Ow!”

He didn’t care to be careful, forcing you towards your door, and he snatched your purse before you could. You wrapped your arms around yourself, shuddering at the cool ocean breeze as you stood in your dress, the flowy skirt of it kissing your thighs. When Rafe finally got the door open, he all but shoved you inside, and this time, you did fall.

You whimpered in pain, sitting up to take off your shoes, rubbing your foot just as he slammed your door closed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he repeated, slower this time as he brought his hands up. “Huh?”

You were drunk and confused, blinking and desperately trying to understand why Rafe was so mad. You’d done your best to avoid him all night—these past few weeks, actually. You didn’t like making anyone mad, especially Rafe considering his relation to Sarah.

“You realize he was going to hurt you, right…?”

You laughed at that, throwing Rafe a frown.

“What? Topper’s friend? No, he-.”

“He what? He plowed you with alcohol—maybe a few drugs—and was just so eager to take you home?”

You hesitated, a frown forming.

“I mean…we were drinking just like everyone else was, and I feel bad when Sarah has to take me home,” you said, much quieter now.

Rafe let out a laugh at that, and you finally decided to try and push yourself to your feet. You stumbled when Rafe neared you, so close, and your eyes widened. Rafe was so close you could feel his body heat, and he gestured to you with both hands as he leaned in.

“He was going to rape you. Do you get that?”

You flinched, chest tightening as you shook your head.

“No, he wouldn’t do that…”

“…and how do you know? You just met him, tonight,” Rafe spat. “You don’t know shit about him!”

You blinked, and you could feel your eyes burning because Rafe was so mad, and you didn’t understand why. Topper’s friend had been nice to you all night, looking after you and getting you drinks and keeping you company. You had the hardest time believing Rafe’s words, and you shook your head.

“He was being nice,” you argued, but Rafe’s anger and harsh words had you doubting that, now.

“…because he wanted to fuck you, you-.”

He cut himself off, heavily exhaling, and he glanced away. You watched him as his eyes fell closed, a bitter chuckle escaping as he shook his head.

“Do you have any idea how crazy you drive me?”

You almost didn’t hear him, and when he turned his cold gaze back to you, you swallowed.

“Are you really that stupid?” he quietly wondered, tapping his temples. “Huh?”

You pressed your lips together, the sound of your heartbeat loud in your ears.

“I’m stretching myself thin here just to make sure all those guys you think are your friends don’t have you lying down in their backseat somewhere…”

“Rafe.”

“…but like the dumb broad that you are, you think they’re being nice and friendly and that they actually care about you outside of what’s under your tiny little dress!”

You looked away.

“Every day I find myself wondering how the fuck did you even graduate? How did you even make it this far on your own?”

You struggled to swallow, your gaze finding the floor.

His words had you shifting on your feet, heart sinking at the familiarity of them. You were never the smartest, you knew that. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried in school, tried to understand things that came so naturally to other people. You remembered your tutors getting so fed up and frustrated, leaning against the hall and listening as they told your mom they didn’t see how you’d ever pass. You remembered enlisting classmates for help before they too gave up and just took pity on you by doing your work for you.

“Hey, it’s okay,” they would tell you with soft smiles. “You really tried, and that’s what really matters.”

You looked up when Rafe huffed again, tears in your eyes. You had no idea that Rafe thought those things too, and you reached up to wipe your eyes.

“I mean, you’re always parading around in this crap that barely covers your ass,” he sneered, gesturing to your dress. “Always smiling and giggling at everyone.”

You sniffed.

“None of those guys are ever laughing with you, they’re laughing at you.”

“Why are you saying this to me?” you whispered.

“…because someone needs to,” he threw back. “…because you’re too fucking dumb to look out for yourself.”

Rafe neared you, reaching out and clutching your dress, yanking you closer.

“Do you know what that guy would’ve done? Hmm?”

You shuddered when his other hand came up to clasp the back of your neck.

“He would’ve gotten you in his backseat, probably wouldn’t have even waited to get you home…”

“Stop,” you pleaded.

“He wouldn’t have listened to a single word you said, too busy trying to get your legs open and his pants off.”

His hold tightened, and you winced, a few tears skipping down your face as he walked forward. He forced you to stumble back.

“He would’ve fucked you even more stupid and-.”

He cut himself off as you hit his chest, lips trembling and desperately trying to keep yourself from crying. You couldn’t stop, and Rafe huffed, rubbing his hands over his head as he let you go. Rafe’s chest was heaving, and when his eyes met yours again, you couldn’t hold his gaze for long.

“You’re so pitiful, you know that?” he murmured, coming near you again. “Every time you open that mouth to say something stupid, I just want to shove my cock in it.”

Your eyes widened at his words, stumbling back when he gripped your roots, scalp stinging.

“…but that’s all you’ll be good for, huh,” he mused, his other hand circling your chin. “To be split open and filled up.”

You reached up, grabbing his wrist, but Rafe didn’t care, leaning in and nipping at your cheek.

“…and if it’s going to be someone, it might as well be me, right?” he breathed, brushing his lips over your trembling ones. “Those other assholes on this island don’t look out for you like I do.”

Rafe wasn’t giving you time to think, and before you could stop him, his mouth covered yours. Rafe deeply inhaled, tongue tasting the inside of your mouth, hand roaming over you, completely ignoring your own as you tried to stop him. He roughly pulled at your dress, and you heard the fabric rip, a noise of protest leaving you.

You thought that Rafe didn’t like you.

It was what Sarah said, and Rafe himself had called you dumb and stupid and every other thing you’d tried to pretend you weren’t. You didn’t always pick up on things, but would Topper’s friend really have hurt you? Rafe was smarter than you, so he would know, right? He’d seemed so sure of it, but as his hands squeezed your frame, you recalled his words.

Wasn’t Rafe doing the same thing?

You gasped when his teeth sank into your neck, and all your breath left you when your back met the floor. You mumbled his name, but Rafe didn’t seem to hear you, yanking your panties down your legs, his own pants partially undone. When his fingers found a home between your legs, you whimpered, jerking at the feel of them sinking into you. He groaned at the feel, and your nails pressed into his arm.

You felt like your brain was short-circuiting, eyes rolling as he thrust them into you, massaging your walls. Rafe hovered over you, his nose brushing yours, and your hands reached out to scrape at the carpet. Your chest arched when Rafe curved them, and he kissed you again, a deep moan leaving him as you clenched around him.

“Rafe, stop-.”

Your words were abruptly cut off when he pressed on your stomach, holding you down, and you trembled, body buzzing. When he pulled them out of you, you felt disappointment, no time to linger on it as the head of him pressed to you. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, and your stomach arched against his firm hand. Your mouth fell open at the stretch, toes curling, and Rafe made a shushing sound.

“You can take it,” he murmured. “Open your legs.”

He rested in between them on his knees, and his free hand was on your thigh, parting them further. A high pitched sigh left you as he filled you to the hilt, fitting snuggly and holding himself inside of you. The turn the night had taken made your head spin, along with the alcohol, and you threw your head back when Rafe’s hand traveled from your stomach, thumb pressing against you.

“You’re so fucking wet,” you heard him groan. “Dripping around me.”

He started to move, pulling out before swiftly pushing his cock back into you, making you squeeze your eyes shut.

“This is all you needed, huh? Someone to fuck your dumb little brains out.”

Your lashes fluttered, and Rafe was blurry through your tears, but as you blinked, he cleared up. He leaned in to press kisses to your face, hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud in the living room. You couldn’t focus on much besides Rafe’s cock in you, hands tight on you and holding you in place so he could fuck you like he wanted.

“You know how many times I wanted to bend you over? Wanted to stuff you full of my cock just so you’d shut up?”

You whimpered, hands grasping at his back and arms as he leaned over. His forehead was pressed to yours, one of your knees completely pushed back as he drove himself into you. He was hitting something in you that had your breath hitching with every thrust, and the earlier events of the night were in the very back of your mind.

When he sat up, pushing both of your knees towards your chest, you cried out. You could see his eyes focused on where he disappeared into you, sliding into you and watching the way you dripped around him. You could feel yourself squeezing him, greedily trying to suck him back in, and Rafe chuckled.

“Nothing to say? Too busy taking my cock?”

When you didn’t say anything, he laughed again.

“Hmm?”

You could only bite your lip, chest heaving, and when you looked up, Rafe’s gaze was on your breasts.

“Touch yourself,” he told you, satisfied when you did. “Make them hard for me.”

You were a moaning mess, a fire in your core as Rafe rutted into you. You could hear it, hear the wet sound of you squeezing him and every dip of Rafe’s cock. You softly moaned his name, and Rafe asked you to do it again. Feeling drunk in more ways than one, you did, gasping when he spread your legs again. His arms hooked under your knees, his chest brushing yours, now, and Rafe pressed his face into the crook of your neck.

“Any of those assholes even look at you for more than two seconds, and I’m showing them who you belong to,” he promised.

You could feel your stomach tightening, walls fluttering around him, and you could only lay down and take Rafe’s unrelenting cock.

“This pussy is mine, now,” he breathed. “No more leaving the house like you do without me.”

“Rafe,” you gasped, breath hitching. “I’m going to…”

You trailed off, losing your breath, and Rafe kissed the corner of your mouth.

“You’re gonna come? Yeah?”

You nodded, lips parted.

“So, I should probably keep going, huh?”

“Uh huh.”

“What if I just stopped?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“No,” you desperately argued. “Please-.”

“You wanna come?”

“Yes…please,” you moaned.

You could feel his eyes on your face as he lifted his head.

“Look at you,” he whispered. “So hungry for my cock. Can’t even keep your eyes open.”

You didn’t have the mind to argue with him, squeezing him and loving the way he stretched you out.

“This is right where you belong. Spread open and desperate for me,” he hummed, pressing open mouthed kisses to your neck. “My dumb baby girl, only good for milking me dry.”

He continued when all you could do was whimper.

“Isn’t that right?”

 At your silence, Rafe stopped, only the tip of him remaining. You tried to lift your hips, fucking yourself onto him, but from this position, with his arms keeping your knees bent back, you couldn’t. You whined, tears kissing your eyes as your chest heaved against his. You frantically nodded, another whiny moan escaping.

“Yes,” you breathlessly gave in. “Yes, yes.”

Rafe snapped his hips against yours again, smoothly thrusting into you, and you came around him with a cry. You couldn’t keep quiet, gasping and moaning as Rafe fucked you through your high. He held you in place, body trembling underneath him, and Rafe groaned when he started coming too, spilling into you. A light sheen of sweat coated both your frames, and you shuddered when he pulled out of you.

You felt completely worn out as he crawled over you, and his hand circled your chin, lifting it. The head of him pushed past your lips, and he groaned when he softly told you to clean him up. His eyes met yours as you looked up at him, lips wrapped around him as he reached down to brush the dampness from your cheek.

“Do a good job, and I might clean you up too.”

[gretavanlace]

Sugar II (part 6)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, illusions to cheating, illusions to oral sex (f rec), language, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, phone sex, etc

Your phone is lying on your chest when it begins to vibrate. Pretend you weren’t waiting for it all you want, your self-deception is laughable even to you. But isn’t that what you’ve become? A miserable joke who spurns the truth with a smile on her face and untruths in her heart.

Lying to ourselves is more deeply ingrained than lying to others, Dostoevsky once said. Wise and brilliant, he was. He also loved someone he shouldn’t have too deeply to let them go.

He is beside you, arm draped across your middle, forehead tucked against your shoulder…so placid and secure in his place next to your wandering mind. So blissfully unaware and peaceful as he dreams of things you don’t care enough to wonder about. But hasn’t he always been? Unaware, that is? He has lived in the dark, oblivious to the fact that he has never truly cradled your heart in his hands.

You are a wicked, black-souled creature, and no one knows that better than yourself. He doesn’t deserve this, and he never did.

Maybe you shouldn’t answer. Maybe. But you will, and you do.

Slipping out of bed like a phantom, you move through the house on silent toes, creeping along until you’re folded into the chair in the far corner of the living room.

“What took you so long?’ His voice drifts out, lazy and quiet, “Hiding from Mr. Wonderful again, are we?”

“You have to stop calling me like this.” You’re quiet, but not like him. Your quiet stems from deceit, and some inexplicable fear of what? Getting caught on the phone? And that’s all this is, right? Just a conversation with an old friend? There’s that self-deception again.

“Stop answering, then.” He counters coolly. Unbothered and wholly aware that that won’t be happening.

“How was the show?” You ask, rather than comment on the ridiculous confidence laced through his tone like sex on his tongue.

“Good.” He sighs, and you can picture his flippant, nearly shy shrug so clearly it grips your heart tightly for a breath. “I may have had a whiskey or three too many. May have tripped. May have fallen. May not have been very rock and roll.”

Your soft giggle tightens his heart just the same, but he doesn’t tell you that. “Did you play through?”

“Of course I played through,” He scoffs with feigned offense. “Who’re you talkin’ to?”

“Then I think that’s very rock and roll, Jake.” The smile won’t leave your voice. “Besides, you misjudged those stairs, don’t blame the whiskey. You should wear your fucking glasses.”

“Oh!” Now he sounds incredibly pleased with himself, dragging the word out like the cat who ate the canary, “Sounds like my sugar caught the show…”

“I may have popped in to peek at a livestream.” You concede, curling down into the chair to get comfy.

“Groupie.”

Pulling the throw off the back, you sling it over your bare legs and shake your head at his nonsense “Miss my Sammy, that’s all.”

“Fuck you.” He laughs.

“Fuck you, too.” You toss right back, but you both hear the love hidden behind those terrible words.

“You miss my stupid kid brother so much, why don’t you come and see him? I could have you on a plane tonight. How long would it take you to get to the airport?” There’s a sincerity in his offer that makes you long to pack a bag and go.

“Jake…”

“Should I send a car, or do you think Mr. Wonderful would mind driving my girl?”

Little shit.

“Stop calling him that.” You scold with little conviction.

“What should I call him then, baby? Since you won’t tell me his name…”

Fighting to sound steadfast, you square your shoulders and issue a warning you don’t feel a drop of in your bones “I’m gonna hang up.”

“Liar.” There’s that gentle laugh of his that echoes through your mind all hours of your lonely days. “What did you do today, sugar? Tell me.”

“Um,” you pick at the blanket absently and search back through the monotony. “I had a work thing. Then I went to the supermarket. Saw a movie. I smuggled a bottle of water inside in my purse like a criminal.”

“I should alert the authorities, but they’ve probably already got your wires tapped.” He’s teasing, but he suddenly sounds so sad. “Did you go to the movies with him?”

You hesitate, which tells him everything without a word.

“Damn,” he’s so quiet now. “I hate that, sweetheart. I hate that so fucking much.”

It makes no sense, he knows you’ve just crawled out of the bed you share with him, he knows that a ring rests on your finger right now - he knows. So why does he sound so broken-hearted? Why this?

“You just go around doing stuff with him, you know?” He clarifies as though he’s heard your unasked question. “Simple little things. The movies. The market. Dinner with your friends. Bookstores. We never really got to do those things together.”

It surprises you, though you aren’t sure why…he’s always been this way, soft and romantic about the strangest things. “You’d want to go to the grocery store with me?”

He laughs as you verbally poke at him to lighten the mood. “I’d go anywhere with you.”

“That’s good. Because I loathe going to the gynecologists alone. Care to attend my Pap smear, Jakey?”

He laughs again, but this time, it’s halting and loud… your favorite of all his laughs, “Absolutely, I do. I’ll steal the stirrups and take them home to use later. The doctor will see you now, sugar.”

You’re laughing now too, likely a bit too loudly “You’re so fucking weird. I feel like I’m talking to Josh.”

“Spending too damn much time with him lately.” He offers by way of excuse, “his shit is rubbing off on me. The other day I briefly considered a perm.”

Your laughter trails off with matching sighs, “I should go.” You say it, but you don’t want it.

“No, you shouldn’t.” He argues quietly, and with a strange tone…he’s fighting something.

“What is it?” You press delicately.

“I just,” he pauses, collecting his thoughts before pouring them out to you. “I just thought you’d be back by now…but you’re still there, with him. And I’m still here.”

“Jake,”

He doesn’t allow for you to finish whatever it was you were about to say that he doesn’t care to hear. “Hush, baby…I know. Do you miss me?”

“Yeah,” you secret into the phone, stealing a glance down the hall. “I miss you very much.”

“Good.” He has quieted to match your whisper. “How much do you miss me? More than Sam?”

“Yeah, I miss you more than Sam,” you see? This is why you’re a bad fucking person. “But like I said, I should go.”

“Why?” There’s that terrible, beautiful rasp again, the one that fails to belie how hard for you he likely already is. “Because you’re afraid you’re going to slide your hands into your pretty panties for me just like you did last night, and the night before, and the night before that?”

It’s a knee jerk reaction that you can’t explain when your finger jabs at your phone to end the call.

He calls back right away, and right away, you answer.

“That wasn’t very nice.” He taunts into the phone with a grin dripping from his accusation. “Don’t you dare hang up on me. Have you forgotten your manners, little girl?”

“Can’t we ever just talk?” You’re struggling to remain on solid ground, but for what? You want nothing more than to sink into him. “Do you ever think about anything else?”

“Other than what?” He counters. “Other than fucking you? Yes, as a matter of fact I do. I think about loving you, and lying beside you like that fuck gets to do. Taking care of you, making you laugh, cooking for you, and drawing you baths, and going to the goddamn movies to watch you smuggle in bottles of water, but you won’t let me have any of that, will you, sugar?”

“I—“ you’re shocked into silence.

“Right.” He agrees, as if you’ve said something poignant. “So forgive me if I indulge where you see fit to allow.”

“Jake, this isn’t right…” oh, don’t you sound righteous? “It has to stop.”

“Isn’t right for who?” He is rife with condescension, “For him? Ask me if I give a fuck about him. Not to ruin the surprise, pretty girl, but I don’t. And maybe you do a little, maybe you do even more than that. Maybe you care more than I’d ever want to know, but you’ll never care enough for it to matter more than you and I.”

No one has ever seen you like Jake sees you…and it is both intoxicating and frightening.

“You want to hang up? Hang up. I won’t call you back tonight.” There’s an edge to his promise, but you know better than to believe it, and you’re thankful it's a lie.

“I don’t want to hang up.” You should want to…but you can’t imagine giving him up right now.

“I love you, sugar.” He breathes, and it’s the loveliest song you’ve ever heard. You want to close your eyes and drift away into it like a symphony. There are cellos and violins in those words, magic and pain more beautiful than anything else you’ve ever known.

“I love you, Jake.” You want him to feel those same things living and breathing inside your own words, but they feel so lacking.

“Do you know what I did this morning?” He questions. You can picture his face so perfectly, and you long to touch it, to simply run the back of your hand down his cheek.

“Hmm?” You hum, still lost in the daydream of being near enough to touch him, to soak in the warmth of his skin.

“I tuned the piano in our front room.”

You know right away that he means the house he visits in the corners of his mind, the place he keeps just for you.

Your gaze has drifted out the window. If you look hard enough, you can almost see the house in the distance, windows glowing golden with light and love “You did?”

“I did. You’re teaching the girls now. I wanted it to be perfect for the four of you.”

“I don’t know how to play the piano, Jakey.” You tease, staring harder still at the mirage of your make believe home.

“Yes, you do. I taught you. You took to it right away, and now you’re better than Sammy, even. You play like an angel. And sometimes, when the girls are asleep, we make love on it and scatter notes around the room in the night.”

Your hand finds its way into your panties all on its own, but it’s innocent somehow, gentle. “We make love on the piano?”

“We make love everywhere, sugar.” He hushes, “I’ve slipped inside of you against the maple tree in the backyard in the Autumn while it drops its leaves at our feet. I’ve nestled my face between your thighs on the porch because you like to watch in the moonlight. Bent you over the kitchen sink so you’ll forget about the dishes, in a closet or two when the girls were too busy to notice, in the dirt in the garden, everywhere.”

A soft moan you attempt to swallow escapes you as your fingers sweep, wet and warm, across your clit.

“What was that, sweetheart?” The smugness in his query is so loving you forget to be annoyed with it, “Are you touching yourself imagining all the places I’ve made you mine? All the places I’ve taken you and made you shake, over and over and over?”

“Tell me,” you beg, slipping your leg over the arm of the chair, opening yourself up for him, offering something he isn’t here to take. “Talk to me. Tell me.”

“That’s my girl,” are you imagining the sound of his zipper through his praise? “What do you want to hear? I’ll talk to you all night, sugar…talk to you forever. Until my voice gives out.”

“The porch,” Another brush against your aching clit, another airy moan you fail to quiet, “Tell me about on the porch.”

“Yeah? You want to hear all about how I lick your pretty pussy on the front porch until you’re dripping down my chin? Want me to tell you about how good you taste, and how sweet you sound when you whine and rock against my mouth?” His voice is like sandpaper smoothing out the frayed edges of your heart. And you most definitely heard his zipper.

“Jake, please…” you would give nearly anything for him to materialize in the room. To listen to his boots clip across the hardwood as he moves, closing in on you until you’re trembling with anticipation.

“Shh, sugar…” he clicks his tongue in mock sympathy, “We wouldn’t want to wake Mr. Wonderful. He doesn’t belong on this porch with us, does he?”

“Tell me.” Your demand falls short through another shaky sigh.

“It’s late, baby,” you can hear it now, the rhythmic, slick slide of his fist along his cock, “and we really should go inside and go to bed, but I can’t take my eyes off of you, you look so fucking stunning in the starlight. You’re curled up next to me in the thinnest, whitest nightie, and I can see the tops of your thighs. So soft and smooth. And I only want to kiss them, but the second I’m on my knees you’re spread open for me like you’ve been waiting for my mouth.”

You’re so wet you can almost pretend your fingers are his tongue drawing tight circles exactly where you need it “And then?”

“Then I slip your panties off, and you give me a little shit about it just for show, but you shut up quick when I start licking along the insides of your thighs. You smell so fucking good, and you taste like heaven, and my cock is so fucking hard for you, but I don’t care about that, all I care about is getting my mouth on you.”

“Do I really taste that good, Jakey?” You pant, arching away from the back of the chair as you slip inside your warmth and fish for compliments.

“You do, baby.” His breath drags in and out of his lungs hard and fast. “You taste so sweet…prettiest, pinkest pussy I’ve ever kissed, you taste like home, you taste like my sugar.”

“Fuck, I’m—“

“Slow down.” He interrupts, sounding gentle in a way he seldom does when he’s hard and throbbing for you. “You just go real slow for me and listen.”

You nod, and though he can’t see you, he seems to feel it all the same.

“I’m on my knees against the porch you helped me strip and sand, and you’re spread open for me on the swing. It creaks every time you move. Your hands are in my hair, but you’re being such a gentle girl, fucking your lovely cunt up into my mouth, begging me softly to suck your spoiled little clit, begging me to make you cum.”

With your fingers fluttering light as air, you can almost imagine it all to be real, and you’re close…so close.

With a choked gasp of your name he pauses, but recovers in a blink, “You’re whining for my fingers, but I want to get you there just like this. I don’t want anything in the way when you finally let go on my tongue. I want to drink you down, baby…every drop. It’s all mine, and I want it. And you let me have you that way, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you nod frantically, writhing in the chair until the blanket falls away, forgotten.

“And you’re going to be such a good girl for me, huh?” That, leading, teasing tone has joined the party, and your stomach is twisting and turning, wringing the lust out of your very soul, “You’re going to be the sweetest little sweetheart and cum right in my mouth because I’m just so fucking thirsty, aren’t you?”

“Oh fuck, Jake…” you’ve hardly made a sound, your constricted throat won’t allow for much more, “Say it again.”

He knows what you want, and like always, he gives it to you without question or thought. “Want you to cum in my mouth right here on the porch, you beautiful fucking filthy girl. I want you, sugar…c’mon and make a mess on my tongue.”

“I’m gonna cum,” you’re spread wide and thrusting into your own touch, but it’s Jake you feel…he’s everywhere, all around you, you’re drenched in him.

“Of course you are, sweetheart,” he soothes, sounding near the end himself, “Because you know how badly I want it, and you’re my girl.”

“I’m your girl,” you whimper, desperate for more more more… “I’m your fucking girl, Jakey. I love you…”

“Love you too, sugar,” a growl rumbles out of him low and menacing. “Love you so fucking much. Come on, baby, c’mon…”

With a fist drawn to your mouth and your teeth dug in deeply, you let it happen. Welcoming that sparking, searing, electric bliss only he seems to be capable of gracing you with, no matter how near or far he happens to be.

You’re quiet somehow, but he doesn’t seem to need anything more than your muted gasps to get there with you. Though on his end, he sounds feral and violent…like the beautiful, seedy underbelly of something you shouldn’t want. Pornographic and obscene. Improper. Dirty. Wrong. Perfect.

With the calm of the afterglow, comes the shame. The guilt. The self-hatred. He knows it all too well already, and rather than drawing attention to what has just happened, he shifts focus to help you through.

“I might order room service. If you were here right now, what would you want? That’s what I’ll get.”

“Hmm,” you think it over, kicking the blanket up from the floor to recover a bit of modesty, “Soup sounds good. Broccoli cheddar if they have it.”

“Soup?” There’s that wide open laugh of his again.

“Yes.” You pretend-pout. “And don’t laugh at me. It sounds divine.”

“Soup it is, sugar.” He sounds soft and a little unlike himself. “We’ve got a small break coming up. It’s only a couple of days, but what if I came to see you?”

“Jake,” you’re preparing to wage a loving war, though you want to see him more than you want the air you breathe to quench your lungs.

“I just want to take you to the movies, that’s all,” he holds up his metaphorical hands innocently. “Will you go see a flick with me? No illegal bottles of water necessary.”

“You want to go to the movies?” You laugh at the idea of it all. So PG in a manner so… not Jake.

“Yep.” He sounds positively delighted at the mirth in your response. “Bring Mr. Wonderful, we’ll have a great time.”

You roll your eyes, stretching out your limbs, which have been tense and contorted for far too long, “Oh, don’t be silly, Jacob, like I would ever share you with Mr. Wonderful.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @jakesgrapejuice @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Something Good - A "Kissing You" Drabble

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader Warnings: Brief mentions of sex, but nothing beyond that. It's fluff city. Word Count: 1250 Prompt #47: "I've had a terrible day, so just kiss me." a/n: I RISE FROM THE DEAD! It's been (checks notes) like a YEAR? Idk, life happened. I have too many side gigs. But I'm HERE. I'm BACK. Here's some FLUFF.

Masterlist | Previous Drabble | Next Drabble

Nothing could have prepared you for the shitstorm that was your day. Nothing.

Even if you had woken up in Frankie’s arms this morning (you hadn’t), even if you’d managed to get more than one bite of your breakfast in your mouth (it was only half a bite, actually), even if work hadn’t been one dumpster fire after another (total dumpster fire count = 7), it still wouldn’t have been enough. Add on an extra half hour of traffic because of road construction, a lack of a lunch break, and a rainstorm that caught you just as you were walking to your car and it had been, in fact, the worst day you’d had in a long time. 

You’re still sopping wet when you open the door to the house you share with your boyfriend, wincing as your clothes drip on the floor you just cleaned last night. You can hear the clank of a pot in the kitchen as you set down your bag and try to make sense of the mop that is your hair, leading you to follow the sound. 

His back is turned to you, broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his well-worn grey t-shirt as he moves seemlessly around the kitchen. You stand there, in the doorway, staring at him because you’re helpless to do anything else, droplets of water still dripping on the floor around you. 

“You’re home, Cari…” he says, stopping short when he’s turned to face you fully, eyes raking over your body with a mixture of what you know is love, concern, and the desire that always lives in his retinas. “What happened?” 

“Shit day,” you begin, giving him the sparknotes version of your day fresh out of hell. “Traffic, someone quit, no lunch, drowned by the rain.” 

Frankie’s gaze softens as he steps toward you, enveloping you in a hug just before you let the tears fall. He rocks you back and forth softly, hushing in your ear as you shiver from both the cold air on your skin and the sobs that are coursing through your body. 

“Gonna get you all wet,” you squeak out, trying to pull back. 

“Nope, you need this,” he replies firmly, arms keeping you in place. You don’t fight it, absorbing his warmth, his scent, his presence, everything you need to feel a bit more like normal. It’s only when your tears begin to subside that he allows you to pull away, his thumbs quickly wiping at your cheeks. “Go take a shower and when you get back I’ll have everything set for dinner, okay?” 

You don’t argue, and he presses a kiss against your cheek before shooing you toward your bedroom. The shower helps, so do the dry clothes, especially when you slip one of his shirts over your head. It was your favorite - the one you’d stolen from him when your fourth date had turned into the fifth and the sixth when he’d brought you home and didn’t let you leave his bed the rest of the weekend. 

When you stepped down the hallway, you found that the floor had been cleaned again and the lights were dimmed to a soft glow. He wasn’t in the kitchen where you’d left him, so you chased the smell of whatever he’d made for dinner straight into the living room. 

And there was Frankie. 

He was in the midst of throwing a blanket onto what appeared to be a makeshift bed on the floor, a nest of sorts complete with a layer of cushions from the couch, every pillow from both your bed and the guest room, and a wealth of blankets to top it off. Two plates were sitting on the table pilled high with food, a glass of wine next to each, and when you finally drew your eyes back to him, he looked almost nervous. 

“I thought that maybe we could have a movie night?” he explains, shifting from one foot to the other as you draw closer. “And I made chicken parm and there’s wine and…”

He’s cut off when you kiss him firmly. His hands splay quickly across your hips, hauling you against his body. You’re both breathless when you reluctantly come up for air. 

“I’m guessing you like it?” 

“I’ve had a terrible day. Just kiss me.” 

He does, returning his lips to yours in a bruising battle for dominance. When his hand finds the back of your head, you nearly lose control. You feel like climbing him, like you can’t get enough. Of his warmth, of his smell, of him. “Frankie…” you groan, your lips chasing his when he pulls back again. 

You lean toward him, eager to continue, but he dodges your advance. “Dinner’s going to get cold,” he reminds you before running his hand down to grasp yours, pulling you onto the mess of pillows and blankets. He almost falls in the process, and he would’ve taken you down with him had he not caught his balance at the last second. Once you’re settled, he leans over to the table to grab your dinner and the remote. “I queued up your favorite,” he tells you proudly, and you can’t help but lean over to kiss his jaw when the opening notes of The Sound of Music come to life in your living room.

When you’re finished with dinner, you snuggle against him, his arm wrapped around you in a protective embrace, and when the intermission hits, he kisses your forehead before untangling his body from yours. “I’ll be right back,” he reassures you, and you watch him go as he grabs your dishes and leaves the room, returning a minute later with a couple of packages in his hand. 

“What are you up to, Morales?” 

The smirk on his face has you practically melting into the blankets, and it isn’t until he’s next to you that you realize it’s a pair of face masks. “Thought your face might be dry after being caught in the rain, so I figured…” he trails off, eyes scanning you as he gauges your reaction.

“You really did think of everything,” you whisper as you pull one of the masks from his hand, ripping open the top and pulling the sheet from the package. He smiles brightly, opening his own as you lean into his space, your fingers guiding the mask onto his face and smoothing out the edges. He follows your example, although you have to help him line the sheet up on your face before he presses it down onto your skin, your eyes falling shut as you relish his careful touch. 

“You look ridiculous,” you tell him once you’ve opened your eyes again, trying your hardest not to laugh and disturb the mask on your own face. 

He hums, “funny, because I think you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He’s serious, you know, but you roll your eyes at his cheesy comment anyway, reaching to set a timer on your phone. When the intermission ends, you let your hand find his in the space between you, threading your fingers together. His thumb runs in a soothing pattern over your skin, and if his gaze lingers on you instead of the TV, you don’t seem to notice. 

And later, long after the masks have been discarded, when the movie is drawing to a close and you’re wrapped in his arms again, you wonder what you did to deserve him. 

Although, you suppose, it must’ve been something good.

[smok3r7]

Is Leaving Even An Option?

Joel x F!reader

Explicit, 18+

Five: Running Away

Main Masterlist & Series Masterlist - My Ao3

Summary: Your days have become one in the same, even with the terrifying reality of death right outside the walls of Jackson. You never thought you’d be in the situation you’ve been stuck in for seven years now, the daily abuse you endure has become an expectation. You take whatever your husband throws at you, literally and figuratively, because you’ve been trained to believe this is normal. But a new man, Joel, moves next door and happens to be friendly towards you, this causes your husband’s anger to worsen. Your mind starts a gruesome war with itself - can you leave him or do you stay until the inevitable happens?

Chapter Summary: Nate is officially out of the picture for good, at least for the last year. A fun night of card games and alcohol causes you and Joel finally to have a chance to maybe spark something new. But you get scared, and what do you do when you get scared? You run away.

Word count: 5.8k

⚠️Warnings: cards against humanity, sexual tension, grinding, fingering, relationship ptsd, feeling confused

I just wanna give a big shout to @chloeangelic she has been an absolute blessing to me, thank you so much for helping me through this process, love you🫂🫶🏼

—

The warm summer breeze flows through your hair as you sit on a rocking chair on the wrap-around porch you’ve come to relax on, the sounds of children playing surrounds you, the sun beaming down onto the green yards filled with dandelions in the neighborhood, and you couldn’t be any happier.

Another year has passed by without any problems, you practically live with Joel and Ellie, and you can’t remember the last time you set foot in your old place, too many horrific memories associated with that home. Nate has been gone for months now - he and Daniel got an assignment to go out West a bit more to find different supplies Jackson needs.

All you know is that they’re still alive, based off of radio communications, but in reality, you don’t care anymore, to the point where you have asked Henry, who’s in control of the radio, to stop giving you updates.

You’ve mentally and emotionally moved on from Nate, and he’s more a figment of your imagination by now. You don’t have any more romantic ties to him, which means, you’re back to your normal fun self. Your witty personality takes over the weak one that grew over you like weeds, and it’s pretty funny; you and Ellie are very similar, she’s what you would imagine your daughter to be like. It’s bittersweet.

“Hey darlin’,” Joel greets as he comes out of the house you now share with them, with a glass of lemonade in each hand, “Extra sugar, just how you like it.” He winks at you when you reach out to grab the tall glass, a smile grows on your warm face, “You, Miller, are the best.”

He laughs as he sits down next to you in the other chair with a groan, “I try my best.” You shake your head and take a drink of the freshly squeezed lemonade and your mouth is filled with the perfect mix of sugary sweetness and fresh lemons. You hum from the pure satisfaction that flows through your tastebuds, “Gotta hand it to you, Miller,” you turn your head to look him in the eyes, “This is perfect.”

His eyes gaze from your eyes down to your lips and back again, a soft smile grows on his worn face as he smoothly says, “Anything for you, sugar.” The two of you continue to stare at each other as you both silently drink the delicious yellow drink, just enjoying the beautiful summer weather.

The rest of the afternoon is spent with you both enjoying each other's company, along with the surrounding noise of people outside. However, there’s something different about the way you and Joel are communicating, but you can’t quite put your finger on it.

—

“Okay, okay, here we go. What killed the dinosaurs?” Ellie finally gets out after a burst of laughter. Joel and you have started a game night type of thing every Friday with Ellie, Tommy, and Maria, and tonight is Cards Against Humanity.

“AIDS, oh my god,” Ellie chokes, as does the rest of the group playing, but you hear Tommy snicker under his breath. Welp, that’s Tommy’s.

“Bees?” She laughs as she sets the white card down, “I mean, what?” She shakes her head and leans back in her chair, “John Travolta’s right hand… Okayyyy.” A confused look grows on her face as she looks at Joel, but he doesn’t give any hint of whether it's his or not as he takes a sip of his whiskey.

“And finally,” she flips the last white card and immediately looks at you across from her at the dining room table, you try to give her a what are you looking at sort of look, but the wine you’ve been drinking catches up to you as you try to hide your smile that’s just waiting to crack with your hand. You know it’s your card and it’s a doozy, “Old lady, you’re something else,” she shakes her head and reads, “Having no legs, just toes.”

You and Ellie are the only ones who are cracking up, both of you hitting the wooden table and starting to see tears rolling down each other's faces. The rest of the table, however, doesn’t seem to find it as funny as you both do. “That’s the winner!” Ellie hollers as she slides the black card on the table to you, and your hand stops it from flying off the table.

“I win!” You yell with excitement as you put your arms in the air and start to wave them side to side, the red wine Maria brought over giving you a boost of adrenaline and confidence to be who you truly are, and you don’t care if they don’t like it - because this is the girl you’ve wanted to be for decades, the girl who could be what she wanted and didn’t care about what others thought.

“Really? AIDS was so much better!” Tommy playfully argues with Ellie, but Ellie is quick with the rebuttal. “I know but just imagine a T-Rex with its baby arms, and with just toes and no legs!” She breaks out into a fit of laughter before she can even finish her sentence, and it causes the whole table to erupt in laughs.

God, you can’t remember the last time you felt like this - just pure happiness and comfort. It’s so heartwarming to be able to live through this moment during the time of what seems to be the end of the world, along with surviving your shit marriage. You never thought you’d be able to see or even feel this again, it’s beautiful.

After the roaring laughter dies down to a lower volume conversation about whatever Town Hall is planning for this weekend, the sudden touch of Joel’s large warm hand on your skin catches your attention. You take a second to subtly look down and you notice how his hand fits perfectly on your squishy thigh as he softly squeezes your flesh. A shudder crawls up your spine, pure ecstasy surges through your body and, god, yes, you haven’t had this feeling in years, so long you honestly don’t even know how to take care of it.

Your cheeks start to heat up and your breathing gets a bit heavy, the wine definitely not helping to keep this hidden. Without giving it a second thought, you bring your hand on top of his and give a gentle squeeze back to tell him, this is okay. Over the last couple months, the subtle flirting between you and Joel has slowly turned into something that could potentially become serious, but the conversation has never been had between you two, so it’s been a gray area for awhile now.

You’re trying to keep your full attention on Maria who is discussing to the whole table how she’s so sick of having to plan all of the events that go on in Jackson, but let’s be real, you can’t pay her any mind. All your attention is focused on Joel and his gentle touch as he slowly swipes his thumb close to your now arousal covered panties, your stomach doing flips from the anticipation, and even though you continue to nod your head with her complaints, your patience with Maria is running thin.

All you want to do right now is drag Joel upstairs and fuck him like it’s the last and only time you’ll be able to, but that’s not possible at the moment.

Joel must be thinking and feeling the same thing because he then leans into your ear and whispers for only you to hear, “Want me to send them home?” You slightly turn your head, mainly your eyes, and all you do is bite your bottom lip in a smile that’s covered by your hand, as you barely nod your dazed head.

You’re so lost in the fantasy of you and Joel finally being able to end the long-awaited game of flirting, that you’re really not even mentally here as Maria and Tommy do their farewells and Ellie tells you two that she’s gonna head over to Dina’s for the evening. It feels almost like a dream kind of state, you haven’t drank like this in god knows how many years, and you really only had three glasses of wine - but you feel like you drank a whole bottle to yourself, so you’re drunk, basically, but not in a sloppy way, just with newfound confidence.

—

Now it’s only you and Joel, just the two of you alone in this huge house, and anything could happen. As you stand in the living room a few feet away from his muscular build, you slowly make your way to the staircase, and Joel then shuts the big door behind Ellie, then locks it, twice.

Joel turns around to face you, your hand now wrapping around the brown railing that leads to the second floor. He has this smirk on his lips that shows you he’s as riled up as you are.

Feeling a bit of confidence rise in your belly, you sing to him, “Catch me if you can, Miller,” and as you start to run up the hardwood steps, only a second later, you hear him chuckle, ooh just wait, and the sound of his quick feet behind you. Normally this would terrify you, but this is different, you’re not even close to feeling scared, you actually feel excited.

You’re feeling kind of frisky too, so you decide to be a little extra; you reach the door that leads to Joel’s room at the end of the hallway and you quickly spin around to face him as he reaches the top of the steps. You strip off your flannel and undershirt, then slip the flannel back on with only your black lace bra showing. Might as well make this more fun, right?

As he sees you showing off for him, he whistles and slowly struts towards you, “My, my, darlin’,” then gently wraps his fingers around your waist and presses into your plush skin, his bearded face close to your lips, “You sure know how to put on a show.”

You gaze at his eyes, his nose and his jaw, and when you see the way he adores you, a feeling stirs in your core that you can’t place, almost like a sense of hope. But you really don’t have a clue, you can’t place it, and it scares you, but for right now you push it out of sight and out of mind because you really want this. And, well, let’s be honest - you need this.

“I thought you might deserve it,” you purr back to him as you stare into his eyes, the ones that hooked you the first time you met him, and your hand rests on his chest. The next thing you know, you feel his soft lips on yours, the scratch from his beard riling you up even more, making you kiss him back with lust.

His tongue peeks out in search for permission and you eagerly open your mouth for him to lick every inch of you, his hands still on your hips but with a tighter grip, pulling you closer to grind on his hardening cock. Your hands are now grabbing his green flannel on his chest, your fingertips beginning to dig into his broad chest, both of you groaning into each other.

Somehow Joel gets his door open and you almost fall backwards into the warmth of his room, but he’s quick to catch you. “Good catch, Miller,” you chuckle as he brings you back into his chest and you begin to unbutton his shirt as he softly shuts the door behind him. He smiles as he says, “Would never let you fall, darlin’.”

Then, like a light switch flipping on, this overwhelming feeling of needing to be in control takes over, one you’ve never been able to have before in the bedroom, and you’ll be damned if that’s going to continue - this is happening on your terms only.

You swiftly spin your two bodies around, meshed together, your fingers reaching his bottom button, and when you undo it, you slide the flannel off of his shoulders and he lets it drop to the floor. Both of you pause for a moment to take in each other, and you watch his brooding chest rise and fall with his breaths, the drops of sweat that roll down his neck, and you eye his happy trail on his belly. God damn.

“You are absolutely gorgeous, sugar,” he murmurs softly as he lowers his lips to your neck and leaves a trail of kisses up to your pleading lips.

Your hands naturally move back to his chest, applying pressure for him to walk backwards to the queen size bed, his hands moving from your waist down to your jeans as he unbuttons them and rolls the zipper down. The feeling of Joel stopping his moving feet makes you realize that you’ve reached the mattress. “Sit on the bed,” you demand between moans and kisses.

“Yes, ma’am.” You can feel his smile on your plump lips as he leaves one last meaningful kiss, then sits down at the edge of the white comforter covering the bed, his legs spread open for you to stand between.

Even though you haven’t had satisfying sex, or gotten off at all in over ten years, not even by your own devices, the routine of it all has come back, almost like it never left you. You slowly strip yourself of your light washed jeans and discard them somewhere on his carpeted floor. Shit, you hear Joel whistle at the sight of you.

You bring your head back up to meet his gaze and you growl, “Back up to the pillows, take your jeans off first.”

“Gotta say, darlin’-” he starts sliding his jeans off and starts to move to the head of the bed, “I like you in control.”

You smile at his words and think, I do too. The image of him in front of you with his legs spread and his arms folded behind his head, just waiting for you to make your first move, makes you crave him ever more. You start to crawl on the bed towards him, your face is now above his black boxers that show an imprint of his cock.

God damn. You knew he was big, but not that big.

You continue to move up his body, along his belly and his chest, moving in rhythm with each other, and his face, his breathtaking features that you love so much. Your hands come up to wrap around the back of his neck as you sit on your knees on either side of his thighs, and your panty covered folds sit on his throbbing member, his large hands holding your ass as you start to slowly rock back and forth.

You’re so pent up that you could likely orgasm just from this, but you want to feel him fill you up and claim you as his own. No, you want to claim him - make him crumble apart for you, and only you.

The mixture of moans and groans from the both of you echo off of the bedroom walls, neither one of you trying to be quiet, not even the slightest.

“Fuck, sugar, keep doing that,” he groans as he watches the way your hips grind on his cock with such ease.

Your fingers wrap around his soft curls and firmly pull to make him look you in the eyes as you bring your lips to his in a fiery kiss. Your tongues battle for dominance for a moment before he finally gives in to you, the pressure from his fingers digging into the skin of your ass, causing goosebumps to rise all over.

With your right hand, you release the hold of his curls and you bring it down where your two bodies connect as you start to rub slow circles on your aching clit, causing your body to shudder from the motion. Your lips quiver against his and you see that cocky smile appear on his face again, “I gotchu sugar, not going anywhere.” His voice is low as he brings one of his hands down to replace yours, as he moves your panties to the side and starts to swipe through your soaked folds.

Your hips buck from the sensation of Joel’s thick fingers teasing your leaking hole and your throbbing clit, begging for attention. You feel his middle and ring finger slightly push into you, then release and go back to rub a few circles, and back in again. Each time he goes back to your hole, his fingers reach deeper inside you, creating this new feeling inside you.

A string of yes, don’t stop, and right there, roll off of your tongue from his fingers now fully inserted in your pulsating cunt as he continues to pump up and down.

Your head is in his shoulder as your hands have found their place back around his neck, your hips following the flow of Joel’s thick fingers.

“Look at you, pretty girl, sitting so pretty for me,” Joel coos into your ear, his other hand now on your hip as he continues to help your movements.

You start to feel the tightness grow in your lower belly, and you raise your head to look at him, at his beautiful brown eyes, as the overwhelming orgasm rips out of you. Your body stops moving as your mouth hangs open and a strung out moan leaves it, your forehead now resting on his, your eyes still meeting his gaze.

“There you go, let it all go, sugar,” he praises as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you and moves both his hands back to rest on your ass with a gentle squeeze.

Your ears are ringing, head feels dizzy, and your breathing is heavy from the intensity of the orgasm Joel has ripped out of you, almost like you’re a virgin again from how quick he pulled it out of you.

“Thank you,” you finally utter out between heavy breaths.

His face curls, “For what?”, and you chuckle as you pull your face away from his and lay your dazed head back onto his shoulder, burying your face in his neck. You softly say with a gentle tug of his silver and brown hair now damp from sweat, “For all this.”

You listen to the pattern of his rapid heartbeat as your head lifts and lowers with his hairy chest as he chuckles, “Oh darlin’, don’t gotta thank me for that.”

You hum in response with a stupid smile, pure pleasure flowing through you from head to toe, becoming so focused on his heartbeat that you don’t even notice how your eyes slowly start to close and your breathing calms down.

“You still there, pretty girl?” Joel asks, his voice causing your ears to vibrate.

Mhmm, you hum quieter than the one before, the scent of sweat, arousal, and the mix of you and Joel fills your nose as you slowly slip into a calming deep sleep.

—

Pancakes - the familiar smell wakes you up. You yawn as your hands come to rub your eyes and your legs stretch out underneath the thin gray sheet that’s covering you. You slowly push your heavy feeling body up so you can sit, and when you do, you realize you’re alone - just you half naked, in Joel’s bedroom.

What time is it? You mumble to yourself as you turn your head to look at his nightstand, eleven-thirty am, not too bad. You’ve got to be at the stables in about an hour, and you wish you had a bit more time to get ready, but oh well.

A sudden soreness shoots from between your legs as you stand up from the bed. That’s right - you and Joel slept together. Or, actually, he just fingered you, but still-

Oh god, you start to genuinely panic, he never got anything in return, he’s gonna be pissed. Even after growing out of your battered self, you are right back in it, that horrified feeling growing in your stomach and mind all over again. Your mind starts to become overwhelmed by the questions you’re asking yourself, questions that shouldn’t even be on your mind.

Why did you do that? How do you end up in these situations all the time? Why couldn’t you just give him a blowjob or something? God, why do you always have to mess it up?

The soft knocking on the door to the hallway startles you, so you quickly grab your jeans on the carpet and spring into the bathroom and quietly shut the door.

“Darlin’?” You hear Joel’s southern voice question into the now empty bedroom. “I’m in the bathroom,” you chirp out as you pull your jeans up and button them.

“Everything okay?” He must’ve heard the tension in your voice, though you tried your best to hide it, unsure of how he feels about last night.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” You respond a bit more defensive than you wanted.

“Was just askin, but I wanted to let you know that breakfast is ready for you downstairs.”

“Thank you, baby, I’ll be down in a minute.”

You hope that you’re convincing enough for him because you just want to be left alone to think for a second. You hear him sigh, alright, sugar, followed by the click of the door shutting, and now it’s your turn to sigh as you stare at your reflection in the long mirror in front of you.

Your PTSD brain has kicked into full gear, realizing that this is exactly how it started with Nate. Your first time with him was all focused on you, and he said it was okay at the time, and even made breakfast, pancakes, just for you the next morning. But then, the next time you wanted to have sex, he had no regard for you at all - you became his personal rag doll, for him to please himself whenever, however he wanted.

It’s starting to become a sick, repetitive cycle that for some reason just keeps happening to you. Your hands grip the granite counter and you start to rock back and forth, how could you be so stupid? You bend your knees and put your forehead on the edge of the counter next to your hands and you start to cry and cry.

—

You eat breakfast in silence, and even though Joel and Ellie keep trying to engage you in their conversation, you just stare at your plate and try to eat whatever your stomach allows.

After about ten minutes of mindlessly playing with your pancakes and not paying any mind to the conversation the other two were having, you abruptly stand up and gently put your dishes on the counter next to the sink.

“I’m heading next door to grab a couple things, then I’m going to the stables,” you say flatly, and before either one of them can say anything back to you, you’re out the kitchen, through the living room, snagging your bow and arrows that are hanging up, and heading out the front door.

I gotta get out of here.

You enter your old home and you're on autopilot again, your feelings turned off, thinking you’d be hyperventilating if you set foot in here again, but now, you’re not you anymore.

After making sure you locked the door behind you, so no one can barge in asking any questions, especially Joel, you run upstairs to your bedroom you once dreaded walking into. As you push the still broken door open, and you’re not shocked to see it’s in the exact same disaster the night you escaped. He’s such a pig, hasn’t cleaned up in over a year.

You take a deep breath in and out through your nose as you walk in and go immediately to your closet, then grab your dark blue travel backpack you had while you were on your own, and you start to fill the bottom with random clothes that are on your closet floor.

After you feel like you’ve packed enough, you head back downstairs to the kitchen and you start to raid whatever is left in the cupboards, finding cans of random foods that you stuff into the bag.

Lastly, you speed walk over to the front hallway closet and as you swing it open to grab the warm blanket on the top self when you hear rapid knocking and you freeze.

“Please, let me in darlin’.”

Knew it, you mumble as you shove the blanket in the top of the bag and zip it up, you then softly close the closet door and tiptoe to the kitchen, still out of sight of the front door, but another round of knocks happen and they’re louder, followed by the sound of Joel pleading your name, “I just wanna talk.”

You stop at the sound of your name flowing out his mouth with such concern and perfect ease, almost like your name was meant to roll off of his tongue, but you shake those feelings away. You continue to sneakily go out the backdoor, so you don’t have to confront Joel. You just can’t handle it, you know it would be your last straw.

After you shut the backdoor, with your backpack on along with your bow and arrow holder, you sprint between yards to the shortcut path to reach the stables, gotta grab Dougie, your horse you named after your father who passed three years before your mom got with Roy.

—

You sneak past the grocery store, not wanting to be seen by anyone who might ask questions about you having your backpack. You’re still on autopilot at this point, you just want to escape from the suffocating feeling of Jackson and its residents, needing time to really think about what’s going on with yourself.

It’s a little bit past twelve-thirty so Main Street isn’t too busy, most people out doing their jobs or going to the Tipsy Bison or Kenny’s Burgers for their lunch break. Now is the perfect time for you to jump the fence on the other side of the stables and grab Dougie, which you achieve with no problems, thank god.

However, your next difficult task is to come up with an excuse to let Vince, who’s in charge of letting people come in and go out of Jackson, to let you out of here with limited questions.

You’re on a time limit because at any given moment, Joel or Ellie will be here knocking on the barn doors, or they’ll do what you did and hop the fence to get in, and you wouldn’t be shocked if they did, because you know they care about you. So you quickly run over to your beautiful dark brown horse, who huffs as you pet his long face. Hi dad, you sigh, we’re gonna go on a little trip okay?

You unhook his reins and walk him over to the fenced in area, then open up the wooden gate and lead him out as you shut the gate to make it seem like nothing has changed. You finally mount Dougie and do a slight pull on the brown leather rein to tell him it’s time you go, just say Tommy’s okay with this and that Joel is coming after you later.

Thankfully the stables aren’t too far from the massive gate separating the infected from the living so you’re there in seconds, and just like you expected, Vince starts asking questions, but with genuine concern on why you’re going out.

“I’m just going out for a bit, want to take Dougie out for a ride,” you yell up to him as you put your hand above your eyes to shield the gleaming sun.

“By yourself?”

“Tommy is cool with it, and Joel will be coming after me later. I’ll be okay, Vince, I promise.” You nod and smile trying to convince him that this is okay.

He hesitates for a second, your anxiety starting to affect your limbs, your legs slightly shaking in the stirrups. You’re biting your bottom lip and your hands are starting to become clammy and sweaty. Vince, c’monnn.

“I’ll be back with Joel in a couple hours.” You yell at one last attempt to make him open the gates.

“Um, okay. Just … Please be safe by yourself.” He forces a smile, “Open Her Up!” He yells to the guy across from him.

“Thank you, Vince!” You yell up to him as you blow up a kiss to him, and just like that, you and Dougie are off on your own, running into the beautiful wooded land, with no real plan on what you’re doing out here.

—

You’ve been gone for just under a month, after you left Jackson, Dougie took off with you into the woods for a couple miles without stopping until you inevitably had to because the sun went down. You stopped and stayed one night at the same Motel 6 that Nate and Tommy found you in decades ago, and the next day you and Dougie went another couple miles until you found this beautiful little cabin surrounded by dandelions flooding the massive yard in front.

It was perfect for what you needed, a quiet and secluded spot for you to really explore and understand your mind and your emotions.

The two days you had been out, you only ran into just around a dozen runners and clickers, which was a piece of cake for you, and in all honesty, it was therapeutic to be able to really be you for a change.

You haven’t been outside in the real world in years and a part of you deeply misses the independence you once had, along with the constant feeling of accomplishment you received from taking down infected, or people if necessary.

The sun is just beginning to set, the sky a beautiful dark orange with a hint of bright pink hue that meshes perfectly together, and you’re sitting on the front porch on the singular brown rocking chair, ironically all very similar to yours in Jackson. You have a glass of lemonade in your hand as you gaze at the sky, and somehow, the drink is not as good as when Joel makes it for you. What is his secret?

This getaway was supposed to be healing for you, and it really has been overall, however, there’s a piece of your heart that deeply misses Ellie and Joel. This was supposed to be a way for you to make a decision as to whether Joel is exactly like Nate, with the manipulation tactics, or if he’s actually nothing like him.

Your brain knows that Joel is nothing like Nate, the complete opposite actually, however even after a year of excluding Nate as a person, you’re still in fight or flight mode. You are simply not as healed as you thought you were, and that’s okay, but you gotta find something to help you cope through it, you can’t just push it to the back burner.

You glance over to your right and you see Dougie grazing on some tall grass just a about a yard away from you, a soft smile warming your face as you stare at his beautiful brown hair and watch how he peacefully eats without a worry in the world - you wish that could be you, just a horse grazing without a care in the world, what a life.

You sigh as you bring your attention back to the summer sunset, the sound of crickets and birds chirping rings through your ears. You inhale and the smell of fresh flowers and the warm summer air overtake your senses, you lean back in the chair and bring your feet up on the seat as it slowly rocks your body back and forth.

The glass of tasteless lemonade sits on the small round wooden table in front of you and you stare at it, the condensation on the outside of the tall glass pools down around the bottom and creates a dark ring on the table. Why couldn’t you just stay with Joel?

As you continue to stare at the glass, a shadow starts to appear on the other side, you quickly stand up and grab your bow and arrow that’s on the floor next to you. Without any hesitation you grab an arrow and draw your bow back, the string taught against your cheek as you aim the slim arrow at the person riding a lighter brown horse, no way, you think.

The person riding this beautiful horse is about twenty-five feet away from you now, and as you try to make out the face of this mystery man, it finally registers, Joel.

This sense of relief overtakes your body, you drop your bow right at your feet and you stand there in absolute shock, how the hell did he find you all the way out here?

“Joel,” you gasp as hot tears roll down your face.

Before you know it, you watch as Joel jumps off his horse and runs to you, when he finally reaches your shaking body he wraps his large hands around your torso and picks you up like a feather, and he spins you around.

Oh my pretty girl, babygirl, I thought I lost you forever, and what are you doing all the way out here? Spews out of Joel’s mouth, you latch your arms and legs around his thick body as you continue to sob into his neck.

“I’m so sorry.” You repeat over and over.

Shhh, it’s okay, baby girl, he softly repeats back to you, I gotchu now.

The two of you hold onto each other like that for a long time. You don’t know why you ever left Jackson, you don’t know why you left Ellie, and finally, you have no idea why you left Joel. All you do know is that you’ll never leave Joel ever again. Not by your own choice, anyway.

Tags: @evyiione @oscarissac2099 @southernbe @pedrosfanny

[rosalind-zoraxis]

OOC Post

Incorrect quotes from Zoraxis HQ!

Juniper: Why are your tongues purple?

Fabby: We had slushies. I had a blue one.

Solaris: I had a red one.

Juniper: oh.

Juniper:

Juniper: OH.

Roz:

Roz: You drank eachothers slushies?

Roz: I just found out from Solaris today that when Juniper died and the service did the 21-gun salute at their funeral, Fabby said, “They should aim at the coffin to be sure.”

Juniper: Time sensitive question how flirt boy.

Fabby: Throw rocks at he.

Solaris: Hot Dogs.

Roz: Kill him.

Juniper: Thanks guys.

Solaris: We can bake these cookies at 400 degrees for 10 minutes or 4,000 degrees for 1 minute.

Roz: No, that's not how you make cookies.

Juniper: FLOOR IT!!

Solaris: How about 4,000,000 degrees for 1 second?!?

Roz: yOU'RE GONNA BURN THE HOUSE DOWN-

Solaris: I'M GONNA HARNESS THE POWER OF THE FUCKING SUN TO MAKE COOKIES!

Fabby: DO IT!

Roz: NO-

Solaris: Question, how difficult would it be to bowl in a bee suit?

Roz: Not that hard, I don't think, as long as you can move.

Juniper: I'd assume as hard as it is to bowl in a maid outfit.

Juniper: Wouldn't be any harder, but you'd get some WEIRD looks.

Fabby: Are. Are you speaking from experience.

Juniper: No!

Juniper:

Juniper: ....Maybe.

Roz: What is love?

Juniper: An emotional minefield.

Fabby: A neurochemical reaction.

Solaris: Baby don't hurt me.

Juniper: *tapping fingers on table*

Fabby: *taps fingers back furiously*

Solaris: …What’s going on?

Roz: Morse code. They’re talking.

Juniper: -.-- ..- .-. / - …. . / -.-. ..- - . … -

Fabby: *slams hands on table* YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

Juniper: You know guys, sometimes I feel like Roz doesn't take me seriously enough.

Fabby: "Sometimes"?

Solaris: "Enough"?

Juniper:

Solaris: Change that to 'at all' and we'll talk.

Juniper, watching Fabby and Solaris fight: Are you sure they should be fighting? What if they get hurt?

Roz, not bothered by the chaos: It’s fine. They’re too evenly matched to hurt each other.

Juniper: Then... who’s the strongest out of you three?

Fabby: Roz.

Solaris: Roz.

Roz: Me.

Juniper: Isn’t it weird how we pay money to see other people?

Solaris: You mean movies?

Roz: Concerts?

Fabby: Prostitutes?

Juniper: Wha…N-no, I mean glasses, what the fuck-

Roz: Think you can unlock the door for us?

Fabby: Sure, I just need a couple of things. Juniper, can I have your credit card?

Juniper: Sure, just make sure not to bend it.

Fabby: Thanks. Now Solaris, break down the door!

Juniper: Huh!?!

Fabby: What the hell was that?

Solaris: *picks up a flashlight* Only one way to find out!

Juniper: Wait a minute! You don’t go TOWARDS the spooky scary banging!

Roz: Yes we do, Juniper. We always do.

Fabby, pointing to the wall: What color is this?

Roz: Gray.

Solaris: Grey.

Fabby, turning to Juniper: Now tell them what color you think it is.

Juniper: Dark white.

*The squad is playing a team sport*

Solaris: Are you upset you don’t get to be on the same team as Fabby?

Roz: Have you ever played a game with Fabby?

Solaris: No…

Roz: Have you ever been trapped in a cage with a wolverine?

*Meanwhile, on the other side of the field*

Fabby, chasing Juniper: I SAID FASTER! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THE WORD “FASTER” MEANS? IT MEANS MORE FAST!!!!

Fabby: A stake to the heart won't kill a vampire if their tits are big enough.

Solaris: Yeah, you just catch it.

Roz: Nah nah nah, deflects it. Stake? Just bounces right off. Done. Back to doing hot girl shit.

Juniper: Then I just use a spear instead.

Fabby: You are trying so hard to kill a vampire with big bazongas, and for what? Why would you do that to the ecosystem?

Roz: I told Solaris to grab snacks for everyone.

Fabby, looking through the options: Why did you grab fruit snacks? Are you five? Who even likes Fruit Snacks?

*Roz, Solaris, and Juniper raise their hands*

[roomsofangel]

GROWING PAINS . . . # CHAPTER ONE !

synopsis you hated christmas. simple. this year was no different, the only thing changing was the scenery when you decide to let your older brother, yunho convince you to visit your grandmother who neither of you had met but hoped it would do some good. everything was still the same — writer’s block, the winter loneliness, the way yunho won’t stop singing jingle bell rock, yeah, everything was the same. at least, until a certain blonde haired boy made it his mission to melt your iced heart.

warnings none

wc 745

if you’d like to be added to the taglist please either send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are also very appreciated! ^_^

your hand held the pen with a firm grip, shakily tracing a few squiggled lines on your clean sheet of paper that wouldn’t be for much longer, teeth sinking into your bottom lip enough to draw the taste of metallic. “this is bullshit.” you set the pen down on the desk, running your fingers through the strands of your hair with a slight tug at your scalp, “do you think i’m allowed to fail?” you called out to your brother who walked in with his hands to his head, towel being used to dry his fresh out the shower hair

“you can just finish it after the trip,” yunho shrugged, aiming the towel to the side while you heard him mumble that he’d get that later and hurried to raid the refrigerator for orange juice, “need apple by the way,” he voiced while scavenging for a glass

you groaned, scrunching the paper into a ball and throwing it into—missing—the garbage can. “i want to do it now though,” you leaned your head back to watch your brother who looked as if he was a kid on a sugar rush, pouring his juice and grabbing a quick granola bar before slipping on his jacket and shoes while stumbling

“who knows, maybe you’ll find muse there,” he replied with a teasing tone, a kissy face being cut short by you aiming a pencil to his chest, “hey! i’m sensitive, ya know!” exaggerating a few of the words before laughing it off, “but come on, we need to get going, you got your bag?”

you scoffed, “of course i do,” leaning to the side to grab your drawstring bag before standing, “you ready?”

yunho hummed, and that was enough of a response for you. both of you sharing the same mutual thought.

no, the fuck not.

“do you think she’ll like us?” you couldn’t help but ask outloud, kicking a small rock on the ground while you walked alongside your brother up the driveway of your grandma’s house, glancing at yunho who shrugged, hands shoved into his jacket’s pockets

ears red and nose rosy, yunho cleared his throat, “she didn’t even like dad,” he amused, but you saw right through it. he was worried about the same thing.

three knocks on the door were made while you looked around the unfamiliar neighborhood that made you feel small. compared to the small overloaded home you and yunho were raised in, this seemed like a five star resort.

“is she even here?” you asked, and yunho pulled out his phone in a haste, checking the time and dialing a number

“let me check.”

“you mean we came here and you don’t even know if she’s home, yunho?!” you shrieked, your bag falling onto the ground as you found yourself running your fingers through your hair, hands on your head before you sat on the benches that resided on her patio, messing with the strings from your worn out jeans

your eyes scanned the neighborhood while you blocked and muffled out yunho’s ranting and worrying, gaze locking on a guy who had his hair tucked into a beanie and hands stuffed into his pockets while he had a mask covering most of his features. his eyes were pretty, catlike even.

messing with your chipped nail polish, you froze at the sudden turn he had done, eyes locking with yours. the cold winter air suddenly felt like summer heat and you blinked a few times to look at the ground, more-so at your hands that were getting a bit too cold

“okay, key’s under the mat, she’s out grocery shopping,” yunho ended the call and aimed the next conversation with you who nodded in response, standing and dusting yourself off while he kneeled down and lifted the corner of the WELCOME doormat to see a silver key. an extra. thank god.

hearing the click and the door opening, “thank fuck,” yunho muttered before entering, you walked up to the doorway and turned to look at where you remember seeing the pretty stranger

and much to your bittersweet dismay, he wasn’t still looking at you. instead— he was raking up snow from the lawn, this time without his mask and singing under his breath, or at least you assumed with the rhythm of dance he was showing while mouthing something—that, and you noticed the airpods in his ears while he stayed focused on his task.

maybe the temporary stay wouldn’t be too bad.

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[eggcompany]

Hannibal is such a daddy Part 1

Doctor Hannibal Lecter is a daddy and everyone knows it. Everyone knows he is the most perfect caregiver but he has no littles of his own. But what happens when he learns Will Graham is a Little?

No one knew Will was a little. Everyone knew Hannibal was a daddy though. Everyone wanted Hannibal to be their daddy. He was brilliant, strong, handsome, and had a big house and a big nest. But no one ever saw a nursery . Or a nursing room. Or a little. 

Hannibal was known for his dinner parties. He was known to invite not only caregivers and minx (people who are neither caregivers or little) but also littles. He usually had large dinner parties where he would cook perfectly adult meals for his big guests and then in the side room that had no sharp or hard things that the small ones could get hurt on, he would serve his little meals. 

He would usually stay with the littles while everyone else ate. He would wash their faces and hands. He would help them eat and throw their trash away. He would change their diapers and put them down for naps. He would leave and serve the next course to the adults and go straight back to the littles. Usually one or two other caregivers but Hannibal never asked anyone to help. 

Everyone knew Dr. Hannibal Lecter was a daddy. But no one knew Will Graham was a little. 

No one could look around his house and know he’s a little. He had no soft colored walls or snuggly blankets or dvd collection of cartoons and Disney movies. He didn’t have a crib or sippy cups or binkies or diapers or a rocking chair. You could search his house and the only thing that might point towards him being a little is his one pair of fuzzy snuggly socks. And those were plain black. 

That was until he had met Hannibal. And Hannibal came to his house. 

“Will you have such a... are you a minx?” Hannibal said as he looked around Will’s very plain home. Will had invited Hannibal over to help on a case. 

Will just looked at Hannibal from the kitchen where he was getting them both glasses of water. Or rather cups of water since Will didn’t drink out of glass. 

“No I’m not a minx. The files on the table. There’s pictures just spread out.” Will said as he showed Hannibal to his dinner table. 

“Oh! You’re not a minx? I didn’t take you for a caregiver. Well perhaps to your dogs! They look so healthy and playful.” Hannibal said conversationally. He knew Will might just be an ace caregiver. Someone who doesn’t care for relationships but has caregiver instincts. 

“I’m not a caregiver, I just like dogs.” Will said plainly. As if he just said he had on blue socks. 

Hannibal froze. Not a minx. Not a caregiver. That meant. No it can’t be. 

“You’re a little? But you live alone and you have no. You have nothing!” Hannibal said in a fit. If Will was a little why did he not have any color of little things. Hannibal thought maybe he hid it all. 

Will sighed loudly. He knew he shouldn’t have told. Will had had a caregiver before. When he was just old enough to leave his family. She was nice and cared about his health. But she was vain and didn’t like the way he looked. She wanted to always have him waxed and when they bonded to have his body hair laser removed. He used to get in trouble for not having his everything shaved or waxed. So when she left him because he wanted his beard, he never tried to get another. 

“Yes Hannibal, I’m a little. No, I don’t have anything. I don’t really, uh,  I don’t really regress all that often. And when I do I’m not all that little.” Will tried to sound uninterested but failed. He just sounded sad. 

When he really let go he was tiny. Practically an infant. Most littles were toddler age. Dependent but not completely. Will expected Hannibal to drop it and assume, just like Jack, that he could care for himself. What he didn’t expect was- 

“Oh we’ll go ahead I’ll just be going over the case. I have a little bag in my car, would you like if I brought it for you?” Hannibal said cheerily. He just loved caring for littles. Especially if that little was Will. Hannibal already had a soft spot for the shorter man. Will looked shocked for a moment. 

“You don’t- you don’t have to put up with me right now. It’s okay you don’t need to do anything I’m just. I’m capable.” Will tried to get together a congruent thought. 

Hannibal was already walking back towards the door. He stopped and slipped off his jacket at the door. 

“Nonsense Will. I’m here, the dogs are all here, you can relax. I’ll take care of everything.” And Hannibal stepped out the door. Will stood in shock. Hannibal always acted like this. Did what he wanted. But this was different. 

No one ever did that. Just cared. Will was a capable FBI agent and teacher. He wasn’t helpless. Maybe he was. Maybe he was just helpless to Hannibal.

Will contemplated letting the doctor actually know how small he got when he regressed. It wouldn't hurt to let the doctor know… Hannibal loved littles. All littles. Will isn’t special, he’s just another little doll to feed Hannibal’s caregiving needs. 

Hannibal returned with a blue duffel bag in tow. He smiled and walked past Will to the couch. 

“Here we go! It’s just a small kind of emergency bag, but it will serve its purpose. Do you want a sippy or a blanket? Do you have wifi? I could hook up my laptop and you could watch some cartoons.” Hannibal said in a lighthearted happy way. Will just stood still and overwhelmed at the soft colorful items Hannibal pulled from the bag. Hannibal turned and saw the special agent clenching his fists and breathing quicker than he should be and came to his side. 

“Will, are you alright? Did I overwhelm you? I’m so sorry, I just got excited. I should have stayed calmer. I’m sor-” He was cut off by a low whine. 

“‘M too small for that. I’m um I’m not like most littles, Hannibal. I get too small. Now please just… just look at the damn case files.” Will said and tried to keep the tears from rolling down his face but failed miserably. Hannibal nodded and rubbed Will’s shoulder as he turned to the gorish photographs. 

Will stayed still for a few minutes before venturing a few steps closer to the white blanket that had been placed on the arm of his couch. He ran the very tips of his fingers over it, feeling the amazingly soft fabric. He looked back at Hannibal who was looking at the case files. 

Will looked at the blue sippy cup for a moment before leaning and looked down into the bag. There were diapers, pacifiers, wet wipes, and rolled up changing mats. There were snacks and water as well. He then spotted what looked like the lag of a stuffed animal. Maybe a bear or a dog. Will felt more adventurous, he was slipping, if only a bit but he was slipping just seeing the supplies. 

Will moved the pack of wet wipes over to see the stuffed animal more clearly. It was a dog. A light brown one with dark brown spots. It was made from what felt like thick flannel material and had plain black eyes and a black nose that was embroidered on. ‘This is a baby toy’ flashed through Will’s mind as he picked up the doggy. The thought was washed away by the thoughts of snuggling the small toy while he slept. Will held the dog up to his chest and petted it. He was slipping further. 

“Do you like it?” Hannibal said from the arm of the couch. Will hadn’t even noticed him in his fogged headspace. Will nodded his head and brought the toy up to his face to rub his scruffy cheek against it. Hannibal smiled and moved slowly as he dragged his bag closer to him. 

“Maybe he can sleep over here tonight. Do you want the doggy to sleep over tonight?” Hannibal said in a soft voice and looked at Will’s eyes. Will smiled and his eyes flashed up to the older man’s. Will bounced a little bit on the balls of his feet. 

“Yes pwease! I um… I wike da doggy. Hims so soft.” Will said as he rubbed the stuffed animal across his lips and nose. Will was swaying slightly. He usually didn’t walk all that much when he was little. Hannibal noticed and put his hand on Will’s upper arm. He pushed slightly, guiding the wobbly man to sit on the couch. Will happily held the toy close to his face as he plopped down onto the couch and smiled. Will chewed on his bottom lip slightly. 

“Yeah, he is soft. I saw you touching the blankie too. Do you want that too? You can have anything you want.” Hannibal said as he held the blanket and duffel bag toward the little. Will had started rubbing the toy against his lips more, almost mouthing at the dark brown ear. 

Will took a deep breath. It had been so long, too long, since he let himself relax. Since anyone had wanted to take care of him. He felt his eyes wet and just didn’t have the power to pull himself out, to make himself big. The tears started slow but after a few seconds Will was a sobbing puddle on the couch holding onto the doggy toy. 

Hannibal hurriedly sat down next to the younger man and pulled him close so the outsides of their thighs were squeezed together. Will turned and pressed his face into the expensive fabric of Hannibal’s dress shirt. Hannibal shushed and moved so Will could scoot closer to him and Hannibal could rub at the little’s back. 

“Oh Will… I know a deprived baby when I see one. Come on, let's get you all comfy. Poor baby…” Hannibal said and rocked side to side while Will started to calm a bit. When Hannibal pulled back and saw Will’s snotty tear covered face his caregiver instincts took over and his heart broke for the poor boy. 

Will pouted and sniffled and held his stuffed animal close to his chest while Hannibal reached over and grabbed the bag and blanket. Hannibal took a tissue out from a side pocket of the bag and wiped away at Will’s face. Will sat still and looked at Hannibal with big round dazed eyes. 

“You do too much Will. Too much for Jack, too much big stuff. You live in this big house with no supplies. I can’t believe it. After we have a big chat I can take you home and really take care of you.” Hannibal muttered, really more to himself than the special agent. He watched Will melt further into headspace, his shoulders relaxed, his eyes closed a bit tiredly, and he brought the doggy up to his lips again and mouth lightly at the ear. Hannibal cleaned his face with a wet wipe and dried his face with another tissue. 

“Will, baby, do you want to change? You don’t need these icky clothes on if you don’t want them. How small are you?” Hannibal asked and slipped off the couch to kneel in front of Will on the floor. Will just shifted around and looked at him with an uncomfortable look on his face. Hannibal nodded. Too small to talk. Diaper, Dummy, and  some cuddles. Thought the caregiver as he studied the boy for a moment. Will was fidgeting his toes against each other and chewing on the soft ear of the dog and drooling a bit. 

“‘lil. ‘ungry.” Will muttered, his mouth not leaving the soft fabric. Hannibal smiled. So cute! Hannibal rubbed Will’s knees and stood up. 

“Okay then Will! How about you go through that bag and you put everything you want right here.” Hannibal explained slowly and simply. He pointed and patted the cushion opposite to the duffel. Will nodded and his hands went to the duffle bag, doggy left to fall into his lap. Hannibal smiled. “I will go make you up a bottle. I can feed you while you watch some cartoons. Stay here and pick out what you want, baby.” Hannibal finished by fluffing up Will’s hair. Will made a happy little noise before shifting through the bag. 

Hannibal grabbed up a blue baby bottle, which was much larger than an actual baby’s bottle since it was made for littles, and made his way to the meager kitchen. He shook his head at the nearly empty fridge and scarce cupboards. The little had more dog food than human food. Hannibal eventually found a can of sweetened condensed milk in what looked to be an emergency cupboard. Hannibal made quick work of mixing the sweet syrupy liquid into the bottle alongside the almost expired milk he had found in the fridge. Will certainly needed the extra calories and would most likely not mind the extra sweetness. 

While Hannibal whipped up a bottle Will happily pulled all sorts of things out of the duffel bag. He smiled as he pulled out diapers and pacifiers and pulled the blankie into his lap. He dug around until he found a pair of thick fuzzy socks. Will then picked up his doggy and put it’s ear back in his mouth and wiggled his feet around some. He was small, smaller than he had been in months, years probably, but he wasn’t fully there. He was still fighting it, forcing himself to move his hands and feet and keep his motor function up. 

But the moment Hannibal came over to him flipping a bottle full of milk, he slipped. His fingers felt all gummy and loose, his tongue felt big in his mouth, and his body felt wiggly and soft. Hannibal noticed and smiled as he sat on the edge of the small couch and put the duffel bag on the floor. 

“Do you want to come sit in my lap? Want me to hold you?” Hannibal asked but Will was already struggling to wiggle over to the older man. Hannibal helped him by dragging him up to sit across his thighs and rest his back against the arm of the couch. Will smiled and thunked his head against Hannibal's solid chest. 

“Open up darling. It’s sweet, you’ll like it.” Hannibal said and Will latched onto the nipple of the bottle and sucked down the sweet milk enthusiastically. 

Hannibal smiled and felt calm. These moments always calmed him, stroked that caring need in his chest. But now was different. With Will it was always different no matter what ‘it’ was. Hannibal never felt that urge to really feel the babies though. That need to feel their heart beats, their breaths, their skin. But right now, Will in his lap getting healthy and safe off of Hannibal’s efforts, the psychiatrist felt that urge. He used the hand that wasn’t helping the baby hold onto the bottle to rub up at the artery in Will’s neck. Hannibal breathed in and out alongside Will for a moment as he counted each thump of his heart. 

When Will finished the bottle he slumped against Hannibal's chest. Which would have helped calm that urge Hannibal felt in his chest if not for the goddamned layers between them. The caregiver decided that there needed to be many less layers between them. 

“Here you sit right here for a moment. Let’s get this off of you…” Hannibal said as he slid Will off of him and to the side and slipped his flannel off once he unbuttoned it a few leaving him bare chested. Hannibal then unbuttoned his vest and undid his tie, leaving him in a plain dress shirt. Hannibal also shifted his hips up to slip his belt off. He folded up the clothes and up them on the coffee table. 

Will whined and chewed on the stuffed animal again. Hannibal smiled and hauled the baby back into his lap. Feeling his skin and seeing his chest rise and fall made Hannibal feel more satisfied with each intake. Hannibal grabbed the blanket, socks, and pacifier over to them. He pulled the fabric away from Will’s lips. 

“Here we go baby… Suck on this and I’ll put on your cozy socks. Then you can take a nice nap. I see how sleepy you are. You poor little thing, poor baby.” Hannibal mumbled as he pulled Will’s feet up and slipped the socks on and unrolled the soft blanket. 

Hannibal laid back and Will nuzzled a bit into his chest, relishing in the warmth that seeped into his bare skin. Soon Hannibal felt Will’s breathing slow and even. Soon enough Hannibal decided Will would be coming to his home more frequently. How could he not have noticed this perfect baby hiding away for so long...

Next Chapter ->

[heliads]

Tewkesbury x male reader where they are childhood best friends and reader ends up kissing him out of nowhere and runs away embarrassed

ooh i love unhappiness

masterlist

You are about to break a law. Well, more of a regulation, really. Plus, you’ve committed this particular infraction so many times with the victim’s consent that at this point, does it even count as being wrong-

You’re getting ahead of yourself. Point is, you are about to trespass on some very private property, but it’s okay, because it’s owned by your friend. Your very good friend, actually. You’ve known this particular young man for years and years, maybe even longer than you’ve known yourself, and that makes it okay for you to hop the fence on his property just as you’re doing right now.

Honestly, does it really count as a crime if the landowner himself taught you the best place to scale the wrought iron gateway to make it over? No, you decide midair, right before your feet hit the grass, no it does not. Besides, you’re going to knock on the door like a normal person anyway. You just want to make a quick stop first.

There’s a window on the far side of the house, the one facing the sprawling garden paths somewhere to the south instead of the bustling streets. It’s not on the ground floor, so in the interest of attracting the attention of the occupant, you won’t be able to knock on the window directly. Instead, you grab a small stone from the ground, and, tossing it once in your palm to gauge its weight, hurl it two stories up so it thuds against a certain glass pane.

Raising a hand to your eyes to block out the sun’s glare, you squint up at the window until you’re certain you see a sign of life and movement. You don’t wait for the resident to open the sash and peer out, although you’re certain that he does. Instead, you continue your mad dash around the house until you reach the front again.

Only then do you slow your pace, casually strolling up to the door as if you’d come across the house in a normal way instead of taking a haphazard shortcut through the lawn. You knock once, and are answered a few moments later by the pounding of feet down the stairs. Usually, you think the Viscount Tewkesbury tries his best to be as proper and appropriate as befitting a member of the House of Lords, but all that decorum seems to go, well, out the window whenever you’re around.

Maybe that’s just the perks of having known him for years. Tewkesbury is your oldest and dearest friend. The two of you met when you were the younger sons of the country’s wealthy men, both forced to attend various events and functions since you were small. You were always bored out of your mind until you met him. Then you never knew the meaning of the word again, not as long as you were with him.

You don’t see Tewkesbury as often as you’d like now. He’s busy with the House of Lords, you’re busy with your work as a student in the university, and that means your paths rarely cross except in exceptional circumstances such as today.

That’s why Tewkesbury is all but throwing himself down the stairwell now. The door is flung open, and then an arm is flung around you, multitasking by pulling you close in a friendly embrace and getting you over the threshold all in one go.

“Easy,” you laugh, “I don’t think it’s been that long since we last saw each other. Try not to strangle me, will you?”

Tewkesbury just grins. “Oh, don’t be dramatic, you’re fine. Besides,” he says, voice dropping off to a whisper, “that’s just what you’d deserve for hurling rocks at my window. That’s quite rude, you know.”

You roll your eyes but hug him back anyway. “Now that’s dramatic. I just wanted to get your attention. I’ve lost track of the amount of times I’ve tried to come over just for you to be asleep in your study. My time is important, I won’t have it wasted by waiting for you to wake up.”

He chuckles, although you notice he quickly steps away again the second another pair of footsteps comes running. Tewkesbury’s hands immediately busy themselves in his pockets, and you’re reminded of how he looked when the two of you were much younger children who had been caught trying to sneak out to roam the land past dark. His head is tilted down, and were it not for the fact that you can still see a glimpse of mischief sparkling in his eyes, you’d think he was almost feeling guilty.

Almost. Still, he’s fighting back a smile even after his housekeeper hurries into the room, repeating frantic apologies about how she really should have been there to let you in herself, no trouble to either of the young sirs, but she just didn’t see you come up the front path.

“Really,” Tewkesbury says conversationally, “I can’t imagine why that would be, Y/N.”

You would glare at him, but Tewkesbury is grinning shamelessly at you now and that means you can’t be furious for a second. Instead, you assure his housekeeper that everything is fine, then swat your friend on the shoulder the second she turns her back.

Tewkesbury gestures for you to follow him back to his office, just like always. This won’t be the first time that the two of you have sunk long afternoons and evenings into talking for hours in his study or yours, nor will it be the last. That’s how your friendship has worked for quite some time now:  dead silence for weeks, then entire days spent by each other’s side, then nothing again. Some days it hurts, but today you’ll be happy. Tomorrow doesn’t have to even cross your mind.

You think it might kill you sometime, fighting this hard just to keep him around. Were it anyone else, you would probably give up the battle and let uncertain unfamiliarity cloud your memories, but you can’t, not for him. Tewkesbury is, well, it’s impossible to describe just what he is to you. He’s your oldest friend. The only one that matters. The only proof that the kid you used to be and whatever you are now could be the same person and still be good. If Tewkesbury believes in you, then you can do anything. Anything at all but face your truth.

Tewkesbury shuts the door, then idly slumps into a seat. You take the one opposite him, just as you always do, raising an eyebrow at the way he’s already starting to fidget in place.

“So much energy,” you comment wryly, “I thought you would have been dead tired from trying to wrangle the House of Lords all this time.”

Tewkesbury groans, covering his face with his hand. “Don’t remind me. It’s worse than trying to herd cats. The only time anyone agrees is if someone’s paying them out.”

“And what about you?” You point out, “you don’t seem to be accepting all that many bribes.”

“That you know of,” he says with a small smile, although even that drops off soon enough, “No, you’re right, I’ve been trying not to cave to political pressure. I know what has to happen for all of us to get better, to make the laws that let everyone get better. The road to get there is just very, very difficult.”

“Now I feel bad about complaining about university,” you muse.

Tewkesbury looks alarmed at the mere mention of your studies. “As you should. I can’t fathom having to take exams at a time like this. Every time I’m losing an argument, I remind myself that I’m not still in school like you, and that somehow makes it better.”

You fight back a proud coil of warmth currently circling your heart at the thought that Tewkesbury might think of you even half as often as you think of him. “Come, now. Are you trying to tell me that advanced physics proofs and timed philosophy essays aren’t tempting to you?”

Tewkesbury shakes his head frantically. “I’m fairly sure that those are methods of torture. Anyway, I do enough basic studying on my own time. Not to come for your title of most esteemed scholar, but I have been picking up French a bit faster than the last time I saw you.”

Your cheeks will hurt tomorrow from all this smiling, you think. “You continued with French? I was hoping you did.”

On your most recent venture to Tewkesbury’s place of residence, you had casually mentioned the fact that you were taking classes to study the French language. Tewkesbury had expressed an interest in learning it too, but you weren’t sure if he would remember it once you left his sight. It appears that was not the case, however. Indeed, he must have spent quite a lot of time poring over the books. All because you brought it up the once.

Tewkesbury inclines his head proudly. “I’ve actually remembered a few phrases I can use. Here, I’ll show you.”

He proceeds to rattle out a few bits of conversation, including a reference to his name and occupation, a comment on the weather, and a reminder of the fact that you’re his best friend. This last part twists your heart a little, and not just because you’d gladly hear that validation any hour of any day, just to know that it’s still true.

No, you’re more focused on the fact that Tewkesbury’s last sentence involves a compliment paid to you. He meant to say that you were kind, you think, a kind or a compelling friend, but instead, he looks you in the eye and says that of everyone he knows, you are the loveliest.

There are many adjectives he could have used, but no, it was that one. You stare at him for longer than you should, then cough quickly and look away, wondering why you feel as if the ground might fall to pieces beneath your feet.

“I think you mean something else,” you whisper, “Might want to look up a few words one more time.”

“Why,” Tewkesbury presses, “what did I say?”

Haltingly, you answer him. “You said that I was– I was lovely.”

His gaze stays stronger for a moment or two, then he lets out a weak sort of laugh. “Of course, you’re right. I would never– I didn’t mean to say that, no.”

The dizzying feeling in your heart turns dagger-sharp. “Right,” you force yourself to agree, “that’s absurd. Don’t agree too quickly, though, or my ego will take a blow. I prefer to think of myself as the most attractive young man in this entire nation, and if you claim I’m not lovely in the slightest, I shall most definitely be hurt.”

The joke smoothes the embarrassed furrow from Tewkesbury’s brow. “I’d never want you to be insulted, my, uh, fair man. I’m sure all the ladies faint whenever they see you.”

“Yeah,” you say, voice dropping off, “the ladies.”

Tewkesbury stays silent, face twisting in the way it always does when he’s thinking something through. You can’t bear to remain here with him looking at you like you’re a problem in need of solving, especially if he were to find out what you might be trying to say, so you take steps to cut him off before he realizes anything too damning.

It is a shame, then, that the first thing that comes to your mind is to kiss him. It is not the right time. It is not the right place. It happens anyway. One moment, you’re standing there like nothing is the matter, and then you’re crossing the floor and kissing him. It feels more right than anything you’ve ever done before, but that doesn’t stop it from being a colossal mistake.

You break away almost as quickly as you kiss him. Tewkesbury looks even more bewildered than before, his eyes wide, his collar rumpled. You’ve never had a problem with keeping him in your line of sight for longer than strictly necessary, but his gaze is bad now, a burning brand of guilt that you can’t seem to shake.

You turn for the door before another thought can cross your mind. You’ve been here a thousand times, so you know exactly which turns to take, how to make it down the hall and out into the bright sunlight in a far shorter time than should be possible. You make it down the block and then you’re running, sprinting down the street, hurling yourself away as fast as you can.

This is it, then, how you ruin it. You were wondering when the friendship would end:  quietly, with the gentle sigh of too much time working against you, or with a loud fight. This is the third option you never counted on, the one where you lost control and took what you wanted instead of pushing it away for the billionth time. Tewkesbury will hate you for this, or worse, he will brush it off as strange and never think of you again.

Your university is a short carriage ride from wherever you end up, so you head back to your dormitory and lie on your bed, staring up at the ceiling. You have no roommate to question why you look as if you’ve just killed a man, and no work can possibly hold your attention at a time like this, so you stay there, eyes up, heart sinking further and further into the floor.

You come back to reality only when you hear a knock on the door. Glancing around you, you realize that it’s grown dark; you hadn’t realized that until now. Lighting a lamp or two first so as to not alarm your visitor, you cross to the door and unlock it. You’re fully expecting to see a schoolmate or two, but instead the young man waiting for you is Tewkesbury.

He looks just as out of sorts as you must. The two of you stare at each other for a moment, then Tewkesbury speaks hoarsely. “Can I come in?”

He’s never had to ask before. Things are different now. “Of course,” you answer him, and shut the door once he steps inside.

Tewkesbury has been to your dorm before, so he’s comfortable with the place. He still doesn’t take a seat, but stands there in the middle of the room, fingers worrying a few loose threads at the ends of his cuffs.

“I wanted to talk about what happened,” he says slowly.

This is what you hoped he wouldn’t bring up. “We don’t have to,” you reply feebly.

“I want to,” he repeats.

You sigh. “Alright. It was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

“Why not?” Tewkesbury asks the question so simply that you’re certain that you must have misheard him, but no– he’s still standing there, expression just as earnest.

You blink in surprise. “Because it– we never did that before, I don’t want to mess things up–”

Tewkesbury shakes his head. “We should have done it earlier.”

This really does stun you. “What?”

Tewkesbury drags a hand roughly through his hair. You almost think he’s just as surprised at his words as you are. “I– I don’t want you to leave, Y/N. I don’t want you to run. I want you to stay with me.”

Your breathing is shallow. “And what if I kiss you again?”

“I want that too,” he says, and that’s when you know.

Every time that you have wondered why this friendship was cursed to be forever a bit one-sided, forever shifted a little too strongly on your side when you couldn’t keep your heart beating platonically whenever he was around, Tewkesbury felt the same way the entire time. Every day, every hour, every meeting. You were kicking yourself for falling in love and he was doing the exact same thing. It is marvelous to realize.

You exhale quietly. “You could have said something a little earlier, you know.”

Tewkesbury snorts indignantly. “You could have too.”

It is just like the two of you to snip at each other in the midst of such a grave crisis. It makes you laugh, and that makes him laugh by nature, and then you know that it really is okay. It will all be okay. Such is the way of things. You could not hurt him if you tried.

enola holmes tag list: @thatfangirl42

[scorpioracha]

Genius Lab

Okay y’all maybe I’m in a studio mood but here’s a little Drabble for Yoongi and my first toe into bts. You know the vibes, rb,like,comment,throw a rock through my window. Also this is not meant to be serious whatsoever.

Genius Lab always felt so cozy this time of year. The changing leaves outside the window and the muffled noise through the glass was calming. You had known what to expect when you moved to Seoul, but sometimes you wanted an out, and this was it. Curled up on the leather couch dozing off while Yoongi was sat a mere few feet away from you tweaking some new song. ‘Not yet’ had become your sound track of the day as you begged him to hear a snippet of whatever he was working on. You could play the brat and tell him how you’re never going to come here again, but anyone could tell you were lying. Even if you didn’t get to hear one of his masterpieces yet—he always gave it—you were content sitting and watching him work. You had the best seat in the house, well the second best seat. Spilling water near his equipment gets you banned from sitting on his lap, and that’s the one thing he wouldn’t budge on. No matter how much money he made, he didn’t want to buy new things just for the hell of it if it could be helped. So you were banished to a far away land-the couch-and his precious equipment remained safe.

“Yoongi!”you called out, startling the man. You winced, you had been certain he was blasting music.

“Y/n!”he called back, turning to face you. His expression looked blank, but you could read it very well. He was amused already before he turned around, but seeing you feet in the air dangling off the couch he was close to laughing.

“Can we get ramen?”you asks. He pulls one headphone off his ear to hear you better.

“You know where my card is?”he says, eying you in a suspicious way. It was never usually a question, his money was your money.

“I know”you agree, “but-“

“Y/nnn-“

“I just think maybe it would be nice to go out-“

“No-“

“-side together you!”you finish, clapping your hands together. Little did you know this would send you tumbling to the floor. You sat up quickly to regain your dignity.

“Y/n no”he snickers. “I don’t think outside is a good idea when you can barely sit right”

“Those two aren’t even correlated!”you cry. “Injustice-“

“Y/n-“

“Slander!-“

“Baby-“

“Mutiny!-“

“Alright alright!”he concedes. “Just…stop accusing me on things”

You picked yourself off the ground and gave him a bright smile.

“I knew you’d agree with me!”

“This feels like manipulation”he says slowly.

“Love feels like manipulation, my darling!”you say, grabbing his arm and hauling him out of him chair.

“That’s not right-“he starts but you cut him off with a kiss.

“Nothing is right in love and war”

“Right”he says, shooting you a blank look. “Because that’s how that saying should be used”

“Exactly! You understand me so well.”you say, kissing all over his face. You think you hear the word ‘delusional’ come from his lips but you’ll just chalk that up to the wind.

[eddieschains]

Maximum Security

Vol. 3

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader

A/N: oh hey guyssss 🫣 i went through a writers drought but she’s back!! this is honestly more of a filler chapter before we get into the juicy stuff but i hope you still enjoy !!

middle pic by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

Vol. 1 Vol. 2

TW// 18+, mentions of murder, mentions of sex

Guilty.

That’s all that rang through your head for the next week following the trial. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.

You wanted to believe him. You had to believe him. But the jury made their decision. They were throwing your husband, the love of your life, the father of your child… in prison. And you had no idea how long you would go without seeing him.

Sentenced to 20 years, but maybe he’d get out early? Maybe if he played by the rules and was on his best behavior you’d be able to see him sooner than later.

You weren’t exactly sure how this worked, or how this would play out in the long run, but you had to keep hope. You had to be optimistic or else it would kill you.

The next few weeks were surreal. It felt like a nightmare that you couldn’t wake up from. Joyce and Hopper, Steve and Robin, practically anyone who had the smallest relationship with you and Eddie were constantly at the house. Comforting you, and helping with Leila, but the only thing you could focus on was Eddie.

Was he okay? How was he being treated? Most of Hawkins hated him already, you didn't even want to think about how’d they treat him after learning he killed Jason fucking Carver. All you wanted to do was see him, hold him, kiss him… tell him everything was going to be okay.

You had to wait about a week until you were able to visit him. Something about getting him settled in which you thought was pure bullshit. But, finally that day came. You strapped Leila in her car seat and headed towards the prison, anxiety running all through your body.

Once you pull into the parking lot, you sit in the car for a few minutes. Trying to gather your emotions and put on a brave face for Eddie. Once you finally pull yourself together, you put Leila in her stroller and walk into the building. Going through the rigorous security check seemed like the worst part of the whole thing. They almost treated you like you were the criminal. But, it didn't matter, because it just brought you one step closer to Eddie.

You sit in the waiting area, rocking Leila back and forth until a guard comes in.

“Munson?” She stands in the doorway staring you down. You can’t help but chuckle quietly to yourself at how it feels like a doctor's office calling you back for your appointment. You stand up and stroll Leila along with you as you follow her to the visiting area.

“Hands off the glass at all times. Your conversation is being monitored. You have one hour.” She brings you to your seat as you fidget with your nails while waiting for Eddie.

It feels like hours go by as you wait for him to walk through those doors. When he finally does, your heart drops. His hands are cuffed together in front of him as his orange jumpsuit hangs loosely around his body. It looks like he’s lost weight, which worries you deeply as it’s only been over a week since you saw him last.

His hair is messy and tangled, and his eyes are puffy and dark. They don’t light up when he sees you on the other side of the glass like they normally would, but he still gives you a soft smile and his face rests a little bit.

The guard walks him to his seat and unlocks his cuffs before letting him sit down. You look over him one more time before picking up your phone as he does the same.

You both sit and stare at each other in silence for a few moments before you break it.

“Hi, baby…” You breathe out softly, choking back the tears that are already threatening to fall.

Eddie closes his eyes as he basks in the sound of your voice. “Hey, sweetheart.” He smiles, something you assume he hasn’t done much of lately.

“I miss you… we all miss you.” You look down at Leila who’s fast asleep before looking back at Eddie. His face falls, and suddenly you’re racked with guilt. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that, maybe you should’ve waited for him to ask.

“How’s she doing?” He asks, keeping his eyes on Leila.

“She’s good. She started teething so that’s a lot of fun.” You chuckle and earn the same from him. Another wave of silence hits the two of you as you both gaze down at Leila. “How are you doing? You look… thin.” You move your eyes back up to him, a sliver of concern washing over your face.

He lets out a long sigh before responding. “I’ve been better, you know.” He chuckles. “Everyone thinks I killed Hawkins golden boy, so i’m not exactly Mr. Popular.”

“Oh, I thought that would’ve made you even more likable.” You snicker.

“God, I miss you so much, baby. I wish I could touch you…” He groans quietly, looking up between your eyes and your lips.

“I know, I wanna touch you too baby. It’s hard sleeping without you next to me.” You frown and close your eyes for a moment, remembering the feeling of his arms wrapped around you.

The way his fingers would lazily graze along your side. The sound of his heartbeat pressed against you, soothing you to sleep. God, you wished the day that could happen again would come soon.

Eddie watches you as you get lost in your daydream. “You know… since we’re married, you could apply for a conjugal visit.”

You break away from your fantasy and look up at him with your brows furrowed. “Is that really what you’re thinking about right now? Sex?” You snap, quite irritated that he would bring that up so quickly.

“We don’t have to have sex, though. But we’d get to be together… alone. We’d get to touch each other, hold each other…” He analyzes your face as you stare at him dumbfounded. “Sorry, I- I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I’ll think about it.” You respond quickly. “How about that?” He closes his eyes and nods.

“Time’s up. Say your goodbyes.” You turn around to the sound of the guards announcement before turning back to Eddie.

“I love you. I’ll be back next week, okay?” You assure him as he flashes a more genuine smile.

“I love you, honey. I’ll see you next week.” You both blow each other a kiss through the glass as you watch the guard cuff him again and walk him back through the doors.

As you leave the prison, the only thing on your mind is what Eddie said. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to feel him inside of you again. Yes, all you wanted was to hold him and feel him again. But, feeling him kiss you and touch parts of you only he can would be a bonus.

Eddie wanted to touch you again, and you would do anything for him.

Taglist: @choke-me-eddie @paranoidmunson @quinnypixie @ceriseheaven @joejoequinnquinn @darcyglewis @lovejosephquinn @aysheashea @reanimated-alice @lma1986 @expiredcum21 @avobabe87 @munsonslure

[generic-whumperz]

Bullshit & Masterlist(s)

THIS BLOG CONTAINS ADULT (NSFW) CONTENT, VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED! 

(This ain’t a daycare, minors kick rocks)

We write sins and tragedies

Side blogs:

•@generic-whumper (SFW whumping) •@generic-throw-away-blog (random bs & some fandom stuff) •@generic-writing-tips (exactly as it sounds) •@generic-horror-slut (for just straight up horror and gore)

The Aid Masterlist (current WIP, 18+)

Apocamerica AU

Other works can be found at the bottom of this post under “Story Stuff,” but there isn't much else because I'm focusing on The Aid for now.

Congratulations, you have stumbled upon another (generic) whump blog, hence the name! Blog est. Aug 2023. Currently just working on one story right now (yay hyperfixations), that is slowly consuming every waking thought. Help

Fun facts to share with the class:

I prefer to be anonymous on here, so just call me “Generic/Gen,” them/them, mid (quit lying to yourself) late-20’s.

Dyslexic bitch & silly goose—please excuse typos, misspellings, and any grammatical errors! I re-read and edit as best as I can, but my brain be playin’ tricks on me, and shit falls through the cracks! Just manage your expectations is all I’m sayin’, I’m not a professional.

I’m (unfortunately) an American and my obnoxious word choice will probably reflect that.

I’m currently a full-time college student taking a single class because I suck! But still, any written works I choose to share will not be uploaded on a set schedule (I write slow, my brain only occasionally works, & yada-yada), I apologize in advance!    

I run a queue—and nah I won’t tag it.

Lover of cryptids (Mothman fucks), paranormal enthusiast and certified Haunted™️. Weird shit WILL leak into my writing eventually. Don’t be surprised if a ghost or skin walker makes a cameo. It’s more fun this way, just go with the flow.

House plant addict. They are all my children. Ask me how big my monstera is ;)

Irl I’m a (professional) stained glass artist

What You’ll See Here: 

All types of Whump; I’m talking all of it bay-bee (detailed types below this section), including: polls, writings, prompts, tropes, scenarios, art, gifs, etc.

Reblogs-a-plenty

Really bad home grown memes 

Whumpy rambling coming straight from my delirious brain

My own sub-par short stories, ficlits, and maybe even an eventual series or two

My own mediocre art

I fuck with a lot and don’t really have any “squicks”, but to narrow it down, the prime pickings are:

All gender & POC whump (including lady whump, lady whumpers, mixed gendered Whumpee & Whumper combos, etc. Errybody getting whumped ‘round here. But yes I love to see men particularly in distress and blubbering bloody messes, sue me.)

APOCALYPSE (+ sci-fic & fantasy)

RED ROOMING

CULT

SLAVERY

TORTURE (especially in explicit detail)

Cannibalism & weird blood shit

Gore and body horror (including puke and all that)

Hurt/no comfort, maximum pain and immense suffering is the name of the game 🤘

When I do dabble in comfort—recovery and caretaking is preferably longer with nuanced healing journeys and after character has been through absolute hell and it’s messy AF

Physical, emotional, and psychological whump (if there’s all three it’s a magical trifecta of hurt)

Drug (illicit and otherwise)

Dehumanization

Captivity (short & long term)

Vampires & zombies (see GORE & CANNIBALISM)

Multiple Whumpees, multiple Whumpers

Family of whumpers (this is niche I know but fuck is it my kryptonite) 

The biggest POS and/or terrifying Whumpers imaginable (for the love of all things unholy, make them shamelessly bad and vile)

Chains, restrains, collars, gags, muzzles, rope (etc.)—just tie that biz-nitch down!

Explicit stuff like non-con, dub-con, forced drugging, etc. Wreck that bussy.

Other Story Stuff & Random Things:

Subject X: BB217 Intro

[marigoldsinamber]

The Devils on the Pew - Part 1

Summary:

Ned Flanders is a devil, a demon, Satan, whatever you want to call him. And his gorgeous wife is too.

They moved to Springfield with the idea of causing some trouble, earning a few souls, and having a little fun before they moved on. Their personas are perfect and their lives are comfortable but when they come up with an idea to seduce the local reverend and his wife, they don't expect to get into so much trouble. Or to actually grow this attached.

Ships: Devil!Ned Flanders/Reverend Lovejoy, Devil!Ned Flanders/Devil!Maude Flanders, Devil!Maude Flanders/Helen Lovejoy

Content Warnings: I suppose OOC for canon-Flanders but not for demon-Flanders.

Word Count: 3.3k

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

When a devil wanted to choose a town to live in for a couple of years, there were a few things they considered. Sometimes, they looked at the folk who lived there and decided they were wicked or greedy enough to fall prey to a demon’s bargain. Occasionally, they chose a place filled with idiots who’d never notice. Hell, sometimes they’d throw a dart at a map and get lucky enough to find a place with both.

And that was exactly what had happened when the devil found his way to Springfield with his beautiful wife right behind him.

Maude draped herself over his shoulders, sweet thing that she was, and gently kissed the corner of his mouth. Her tail swished through the air lazily as she smiled. “Bored, honey?”

“Undeniably,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “Why, it feels like years since I got somebody to sign a contract.”

“It was three days ago,” she teased. “Still, if you’re bored, we can find something fun. Do you want to drive somebody crazy again by following them around and singing? That makes so many turn murderous.”

She sounded so eager that he couldn’t help but laugh.

He’d chosen the right devil to stick by his side. The perfect combination of sweetness and danger, perfectly hidden beneath her acting skills. Why, if he didn’t know better, even he would think of her as a perfect suburban wife.

“Or you could always call the reverend again. Tell him you got a paper cut on your tongue and you think God’s punishing you.”

“Even that’s grown tiresome now I’m afraid. He’s started just giving me the most random verses for any problem.”

But it was tempting. This town gave him more entertainment than he’d bargained for with just about every fool you could imagine. A small nudge and they all fell into various sins without even a second thought. Even the sweetest of children hid dark desires and he’d really never felt more at home.

Unfortunately, even that wasn’t enough to keep him excited. He got awfully, maniacally bored with small temptations. Sometimes he just wanted to devour souls and wreak havoc upon the land.

There were footsteps on the landing and he hurried to hide his horns and goat legs as the children scampered around the corner. They weren’t demons. Maude had thought it would help their image to have a pair and honestly, he’d grown quite attached to the skittish boys.

“Daddy! Daddy! They’re throwing rocks at the windows again!”

He gritted his teeth, eyes narrowing as he heard the glass crack from the other side of the house. How he wanted to burn them all but punishing or, heavens forbid, slaughtering a few children would make them better behaved as a whole. The worse the kids were, the more everybody in town suffered.

Why, just the other day, he’d seen a few teenagers stealing an entire slushie machine from the convenience store.

He knelt down beside Rod and Todd and pulled them into a reassuring hug. “Don’t you worry about those boys, alright? I know they seem scary and intimidating now but remember, God will always protect us. You just have to have faith.”

They nodded their heads and buried their faces into his sweater before deciding by themselves to read a few pages of their bible. They hopped up to go find one and Ned wondered if maybe he’d made a slight mistake with how Christian he’d raised them. Certainly seemed more ironic with each passing day.

Maude smiled at him as he stood. “They’re so sweet.”

“Aren’t they?”

“I think we did a good job,” she said. “By the way, I’m going to our book club a little later so do you want to drop them off with a sitter? I made some sugar-free, flour-free brownies and everybody’s going to have to eat some to be polite.”

Ned chuckled. “You’re crueler than the devil himself, you know that? I can watch the boys though, so we don’t need a sitter.”

She smiled and playfully bumped her hip against his. “I was thinking that while I’m with my friends, you can take the reverend on a few errands with you. Helen really wants him to get out more.”

Ned laughed and agreed. The benefits from being from Hell ranged from easily terrorizing his favourite humans all the way to lower taxes. And he did love tormenting the town’s pastor who seemed to be getting more and more exhausted of him by the day.

He pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek before he disappeared with a puff, arranging for a sitter who could come watch the kids. It was a shame they had to drive there but on a street with the incredibly observant Helen Lovejoy and the paranoid neighbour who lived close to them, they needed to take the long route. He didn’t blame said neighbour though. Anybody would be jumpy with that many stolen goods in their home.

His sweater felt a little scratchy that day when they left the kids with a young demon who had nothing better to do and a healthy fear of him. It was the best way to know nothing would happen to the boys.

No demon wanted to experience his anger if his children got hurt.

Maude knocked and they waited patiently outside the Lovejoy’s house, both noticing the open window with sheets tied together that led from Jessica’s room. They exchanged glances but no words until Helen opened the door, her smile decidedly fake.

“Hi-diddly-ho, Helen,” Ned greeted. “Maude told me this book of yours is a real tear-jerker so I brought you all some tissues.”

Maude wrapped her arms tightly around Helen’s waist, hugging the other woman in greeting before she held out the platter. “And I brought my favourite brownies! I tried something new with the recipe this time.”

Helen smiled though the excitement didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Sugar-free?”

“Of course.”

Ned leaned down to give Maude a kiss on the cheek. “Have a good day, dear. I’ll be back around dinner time to steal you again.”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “And good luck with everything. Are you sure you don’t want company or anything?”

“I’ll be fine-diddly-doo. You enjoy your book.”

Helen’s attention had been caught. She couldn’t resist digging for information, even if it turned out to be awfully boring. “Are you up to something fun today?”

“My mother’s coming into town so we want to get her a small gift,” Maude filled in. “Neddy wants to pick it out himself but you know, I always worry because he gets so flustered about this kind of thing.”

Ned chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I just want to make sure I get the right thing.”

Helen’s fake smile gave way for a real one as she had an idea. “Well, why don’t you take Time with you? My mother’s always coming over so he has plenty of experience and it’s not like he’s doing anything important today. He’s just playing with his trains.”

“Are you sure he wouldn’t mind? I’ve got to admit, I wouldn’t mind the help.”

“Of course, he won’t mind. Why don’t you come in while I fetch him?”

Maude smiled at him as she went to put her brownies down in the kitchen, giving him a small peck on the lips as she went past. The other guests hadn’t arrived yet. Ned had wanted to get there as early as was polite to make sure Helen helped them out.

If the reverend wasn’t able to go though, Ned had been eyeing out the mayor of the neighbouring town for a deal. Or if that fell through, Mr. Burns was always an easy target.

He could hear a faint argument and he stepped ever-so-slightly closer to listen without anybody noticing. Maude waved at him from the kitchen and he waved back, curious.

“Helen, we agreed that this would be my uninterrupted time with my trains.”

“But I already promised Ned you’d be willing to help and it would be great for you to get out for a while. What if the other ladies start feeling jealous that my husband is here? Next thing you know, Marge brings that awful Homer Simpson over.”

“It’s my house. I live here.”

“Do you have to be so difficult?”

“How am I meant to know what to buy his mother-in-law?”

“Get her the same thing you’d get for my mother.”

“Like poison?”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Ned chuckled and strolled back to the front entrance when Helen reappeared with a promise that her husband would be out soon. It didn’t take long for him to drag his way up the stairs with an expression on his face that suggested he might be praying for salvation. It was too bad that Ned’s existence blocked off a good amount of divinity.

“Howdidly doodily Reverend,” he greeted despite the glare it earned him. “It’s such a beautiful day, don’t you think? Just filled to the brim with opportunity.”

“Truly.”

Ned’s smile was blinding as he bid goodbye to the two ladies. He kept up a stream of near endless and useless chatter the entire time he drove. Reverend Lovejoy barely responded to him but Ned made sure to intersperse enough questions to ensure the man couldn’t tune him out entirely.

Ned already knew what he wanted as ‘gift’ but he made sure to walk around the store and contemplated just about everything before he came to the selection of Bibles and hummed in appreciation.

He picked out two near identical ones with close prices and stared at them, contemplating which to buy with occasional muttered opinion.

“Ned, I believe those bibles are exactly the same,” Reverend Lovejoy told him after about two minutes passed.

“There’s a two-cent difference in the prices though,” Ned said and pointed to the sign. “There must be something missing from the cheapest one. What if I buy it for my mother-in-law and it’s missing two cents of content. I don’t think I’d forgive myself.”

“Buy her the more expensive one then.”

“But what if they haven’t taken anything out of this one and have instead added stuff to it instead?” Ned asked, sure to sound panicked. “What if they added something to the text.”

Reverend Lovejoy stared at him blandly. “I sincerely doubt that would have happened.”

“The devil works in all ways,” Ned said. “I don’t know if I can take that risk. Could you read this one and tell me if there’s anything untoward in it before I buy it?”

“You want me to read through the entire bible right now? In the store?”

“Well, the way I figure it, if anybody’s going to know if there’s something hidden it the pages, it’ll probably be you.”

“You can also get her both and then if she finds something strange or missing from one, you just replace it.”

Ned tapped on his chin as though thinking about it. “That sounds like a mighty fine idea but I don’t know if I want a possibly butchered bible in my house at all. God has been a little more sharp-eyed as of late, especially after we flicked to the wrong channel the other day. You remember it right?”

“You did call about it.”

“I wonder if she read through the last bible I got her or if she only read part of it…”

“Have you ever considered getting her a different gift?”

Ned took his time looking around the shop. There wasn’t really anything else fun – just a few incorrect psalms etched into mugs and dishtowels. He’d love to get one for Maude’s mother but he didn’t know her favourite, he told the reverend.

Honestly, one day he should buy something like this for Maude’s mother as a joke. He could imagine how she’d laugh at the idea.

“Oh, this one is almost in the same shade of blue as the one you used last week,” Ned said, eagerly picking up a third. “But it’s a whole dollar more. Boy for that price, I’d be expecting a new verse toward the back, wouldn’t you?”

“Sure.”

“Which bible do you use for sermons?”

“I… can’t remember.”

They could always stop by the library and pick it up but Ned felt that would be a little too cruel for now. Instead, he put all three back and nodded his head. “We should go look at a few other stores to make sure we’re not being ripped off.”

“I really don’t think that’s necessary.”

“No, no, you have to be careful. No sense in wasting money.”

Meanwhile, Maude gasped politely behind her hand after Luann finished her rant about how she hadn’t finished the book because of her husband’s childish tantrums. It sounded as though getting remarried had ruined their relationship exactly like it had the first time. She couldn’t help but feel bad for that poor child of theirs.

“I thought things would be different this time but he’s just as much of a loser now,” Luann complained. “It’s so frustrating. I just want to strangle him sometimes.”

“Men never learn,” Marge said sympathetically and put a hand on her shoulder. “I can’t begin to count how many times I ask Homer to do things nicely and he ends up completely forgetting. He can’t even remember my birthday.”

“Not all men are like that,” Maude defended. “Ned is great about those things.”

Bernice nodded in agreement. “Julius too. The biggest thing we fight over is him wearing his doctor’s coat out all the time.”

“They also fight about her day drinking,” Helen whispered, leaning in close so only Maude could hear her.

Maude giggled. She’d wanted to be friends with Helen from the day they arrived in Springfield and she couldn’t help but be proud of the accomplishment. The woman had more power over the people in this town than most imagined. The fear of getting into Springfield’s gossip mill kept many on her side.

Maude took advantage of that. Neddy liked to torment through pestering and an ever-happy grin but Maude preferred a subtler approach. Nobody ever suspected she might be the way Helen found out so many private details.

After all, how could a regular person know what went on in their homes?

“Maybe we should have some of the baked goods?” she recommended to Helen. “I think everybody could use a bite of something sweet to help settle the nerves before we talk about the book.”

“Of course,” Helen said. “I cannot wait to taste those brownies.”

Such a lie. One day, Maude would make actual brownies and they’d all be hilariously surprised.

Helen grumbled under her breath when they entered the kitchen and immediately began snatching various catalogues off the counters. She shoved them into an overflowing drawer nearby with great effort. “I’m going to burn all of this nonsense one day,” she complained. “I keep telling Tim to leave his train stuff in the basement but he never listens.”

“It’s sweet he has a hobby though,” Maude mentioned and leaned against the table. “Neddy doesn’t really have anything like that aside from reading the bible.”

Maybe they should choose a more obvious hobby. She enjoyed having the reputation of being the bland, boring family in town, but eventually somebody might wonder what they do during the day and tormenting townsfolk never sounded good on record.

She did want to cause some ripples soon. Maybe she would fake her own death? If it wasn’t for the kids, she’d eagerly do it in a second. Imagine…

“At least reading the bible doesn’t send your electricity bill through the roof,” Helen griped.

“It can when Ned gets to a really exciting part of it and he just can’t stop turning the pages. Once, he stayed up the whole night without even realising.”

She should read the bible again to keep up her charade. She had no idea how Ned had managed to remember all those verses and passages when the most he did was flip through the pages in between signing deals and cashing in on them.

Helen sighed and took out a few large plates to put things out on. “It’s rather funny, don’t you think? We complain all the time about our husbands but it could be far worse. I can’t imagine living a life like Marge’s.”

Maude shuddered dramatically. “I feel so sorry for her.”

Although years of living alongside the Simpsons had helped her realise Homer wasn’t all bad, she still didn’t like the man much. His children were menaces also and she hated inviting the family over even when Ned asked her to.

“And Luann’s husband somehow managed to be even worse. I think he must have stalked her the entire time they were divorced.”

“That’s very sad,” Maude said though she didn’t mean it in a pitying way. “I feel so sorry for their kid. He probably needs far more attention than they give him.”

Helen scoffed and rolled her eyes. “It’s pathetic really. I don’t think Luann’s mentioned him once today.”

Maude did find it hypocritical for Helen to lecture anybody about not paying attention to their kids when her own daughter was far worse than any of the town’s hoodlums. Jessica wasn’t a bad child deep down but Maude had never gotten the opportunity to properly speak to the poor thing. She wasn’t often home or at events with her family.

Helen hadn’t mentioned her daughter either though she did leave one brownie in the tin, likely for either Jessica or Tim. Maude winced. She didn’t want to eat the things herself.

“He has a crush on Marge’s girl, Lisa,” Maude offered, providing enough gossip for Helen to be happy. “But from what Todd saw, I think she’s more interested in one of those crass boys who terrorise everybody.”

“Oh really?” Helen asked. “Gets her taste in men from her mother.”

“Obviously.”

Maude brought the cupcakes from Bernice and Helen carried out the brownies when she noticed the light in the basement had been left on. She mentioned it to Helen who quickly hurried down the stairs to turn it off, muttering the whole way.

Maude peered down curiously, only getting a brief glimpse of the massive collection of model trains before everything plunged into darkness.

“His collection has grown since I last saw it,” she commented to Helen. “It’s almost impressive.”

Helen rolled her eyes. “Of course, it has. It’s the real love of his life, don’t you know? The other day, I saw a receipt for flowers and I got so happy, only to find out they were fake miniatures for the grass next to the train. We haven’t been on a date in forever but he’s there every day.”

She was keeping her voice down to make sure nobody else heard. A lot of her superiority came from the idea of her life being better than the other woman she surrounded herself with. Maude had a strong suspicion she was the only one who knew about Helen’s true feelings surrounding her marriage.

And the more she thought of it, the more of an opportunity she saw.

“Maybe we should go on a double date,” Maude said. “We can do something we’ve never done before like go on a camping trip or a hike. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

Helen’s eyes brightened at the promise. “Oh, I don’t camp but I do know where this lovely little log cabin is we can rent. It would be amazing! You could even bring the boys if you wanted to.”

“They’ll be so excited! They’ve been getting much better with nature lately.”

Maude watched Helen carefully for the rest of the day, appreciating how her expressions stayed neutral even when she was irritated or smug. She couldn’t even deny that Helen was quite pretty when you looked past the judgmental sneer.

When Ned picked her up, she had a plan in mind.

Tim looked awfully unimpressed as he marched back inside his house, rubbing his temples as though a headache had formed over the day. Three bibles sat on the front seat and she laughed and she put them in the back after they’d driven away. Ned’s day had been a stunning success it would seem and she was mulling over offering Luann a deal.

“I have a brilliant idea,” she cooed as they made their way home. “I thought about it while I was talking to Helen.”

Ned raised an eyebrow at her; the very edges of his horns were beginning to poke through and she laughed, pushing them back down. It usually meant he was using some of his more demonic forces to watch the road while paying attention to her.

“You know I love your ideas,” he said.

“The Lovejoys have been going through a rough patch in their marriage,” Helen said. “And I think we could help them out in a more… physically fun way.”

Ned chuckled almost demonically. She wouldn’t even run a contract by him so this must be something far more interesting. “And how will we do that?”

“I just think they could use another avenue to release their frustrations.”

He inclined his head to her. “Well, that does sound like the best diddly idea I’ve heard all day. So neighborly of you and I know your devilish temptations are strong enough to charm just about any man.”

Maude preened beneath the praise. She knew she had talent when it came to drawing men’s eyes to her but no, she had no interest in seducing the Reverend. He’d never been that interesting to her. Not like Helen was.

“I’m thinking more about his wife.”

“You want to seduce Helen Lovejoy?”

“I want to try,” Maude said. “I like her Neddy and I think it would be great fun. Her soul would practically be mine after that. She’d have to sign a contract rather than let it get out.”

He chuckled. “Now, you don’t have to lie and say it’s for a contract. If we get one out of this, all the better but you know you’re allowed to have your fun without stealing any souls.”

“And I want you to seduce her husband.”

There, Ned hesitated. He tilted the car’s mirror down to look at himself, wrinkled his nose and frowned. “I don’t know about that. Maybe if I’d chosen a better form but… not this one.”

Maude rolled her eyes. “Are you joking? You’ve taken your shirt off before, right? This form is delicious.”

“Maybe to those who like men but I don’t think the reverend of a church is going to let his gaze wander to me,” Ned said. “You, I think, might have a chance.”

Did she notice a hint of jealousy in his tone? Her attention hooked, she leaned forward to ask, “Do you find him attractive?”

Ned scoffed. “Obviously. Why do you think I bother him as much as I do.”

“Then why not try? If he’s not interested, you leave it to me and I’ll just swoop Helen right out from under him. Best case scenario, we end up with only one soul rather than two but I have some stories from Helen that suggest you might have a better chance than you think.”

He shrugged. “I suppose there’s no harm in it. We should try not to get our names too messy though. I don’t want to have to move towns.”

“I promise. I’m a very smart devil.”

Ned smiled proudly at her. “That you are and hey, I’ve always rather liked those collars he wears.”

~

This work was inspired by this absolutely stunning artwork:

[clare141312]

MHA X READER WITH ATOM EVE´S POWERS

Words: 1,338

Chapter 2

It’s the day of the Entrance Exam, and despite all my preparation, I can’t shake my nerves. I feel like laughing. I’ve spent an entire year getting ready for this moment, so logically, there’s no reason for me to feel this anxious. But maybe it’s just human nature to feel this way when faced with something that could shape your entire future. I applied for the General Studies course as well as the Hero Course, just in case things don’t go as planned.

It’s a good thing I woke up at 5:00 a.m. to prepare. It’s now 7:30, and I’ve already finished my morning workout, had breakfast, and squeezed in some extra studying. Factoring in the time it takes to walk, potential train delays, and any unexpected incidents, now is the perfect moment to leave. I grab my bag packed with my workout clothes and take one last glance in the mirror to adjust my school uniform before heading out.

“Sayuri, are you sure you have everything?” my grandmother calls from across the house.

“Yes, Grandma. Bye!” I reply as I step out the door.

Thankfully, everything goes according to plan, and I’m now sitting on the train, set to arrive early. As I scroll through my phone, passing the time until my stop, a man steps on my foot without so much as an apology. I wish I could kill him, but obviously, that’s not an option—I’m not going to risk prison over something so trivial. So, for the rest of the ride, I spend my time, imagining all the ways I could get even, until my stop arrives.

Standing in front of UA High, I feel really intimidated. I take a moment to look around, amazed by the grand entrance as I step inside. After finding the bulletin board, I check where I need to go for the written exam and make my way to Exam Room B. I complete the written exam quickly and with relative ease. Then was present mics speech about the exam in the auditorium. I sit in my assigned seat.

“What´s up UA Candidates thanks for tuning in to me your school DJ. Come on let me hear you” Present Mic shouts but everyone remains silent. I am so Excited. Pro Heros as our teachers. School will be so much fun. “Keeping it mellow huh, that’s fine I´ll skip straight to the main show. Let’s talk about how this practical exam is going to go down.”

“Like your application said, today you rocking boys and girls will be out there conducting mock battles in super hip urban settings. Alright my friend, after I drop my mic here you´ll head to your designated battle center sound good? Okay.” Present mic says and everyone stats to pick up their cards. Battle center H alright I can do this.

“Three different types of faux villains are stationed in each battle center. You earn points for each of them based on their level of difficulty so choose wisely. Your goal, dear listeners, is to use your Quirks to earn points by shredding the foe villains like a wicked guitar solo. Of course, attacking other examinees is a no, no you dig.”  I listen intently as he speaks. But then some guy with glasses stands up raising his hand. Excuse me sir, but I have a question." the guy said.

"Hit me," Present Mic said pointing at the boy and a spotlight hit the boy.

"On the printout you've listed four types of villains not three. With all respect, if this is an error on official UA materials it is shameful. We are exemplary students. We expect the best from Japan's most notable school. A mistake such as this won't do. Additionally, you with the unkempt hair" the guy said and then pointed at a green haired boy, "You've been muttering this whole time. Stop that, if you can't bother to take this seriously then leave. You're distracting the rest of us." the guy said, and the boy covered his mouth muttering sorry. What an Asshole that glasses guy could have been nicer.

"Alright, alright. Examinee number 7111. Thank for calling in with your request. The fourth villain type is worth zone points. That guy's just an obstacle we'll be throwing in your way. There's one in every battle centre. Think of it as a hurdle you should try to avoid. It's not that it can't be beaten, but there's kinda no point. I recommend my listeners try to ignore it and focus on the one's top of the chart." Present Mic said and the guy bowed.

"Thank you very much. Please continue," he said sitting down.

"That's all I got for you today. I'll sign off with a little present a sample of our school motto as General Napoleon Bonaparte once laid down a true hero is one who overcomes lives misfortunes. Mmmm now that's a tasty sound bite. You ready to go beyond? Let's hear a plus ultra. Good luck. Hope you practised hitting more than just books." Present Mic finished.

Now I’m standing at the gate, feeling incredibly nervous. Everyone around me is talking, and I feel like I might throw up. Suddenly, Present Mic’s voice echoes, “Alright, let’s get started! There are no countdowns in real battles, so run, run, run!” The crowd surges forward, and I start running too. I quickly remember that I can fly but decide against using it. I know I can succeed without flying, and it’s better to keep that ability hidden for now. If I make it in, keeping my flight ability, a secret could give me an edge during the sports festival as my hidden weapon.

As I move further in, I start blasting every robot I see while charging ahead. Suddenly, I notice someone in danger of being struck by a robot. Instinctively, I create a shield around them and blast the robot away, sending it flying. I rush over to check on the person, only to see a set of floating clothes. A voice speaks, and I realize it’s a girl with an invisibility quirk. After making sure she’s okay, I return to blasting robots.

When the exam is finally announced as over, I take a seat and let myself rest. As soon as I go home, I´m going to eat everything I can see, I think to myself while turning the air into a bottle of water and taking a drink.

1 Week later:

I jog down the road, counting the days since the UA entrance exams—it's been a week, and I’ve been anxiously waiting for the results. As I return home, my grandmother rushes toward me, a letter in hand. “Sayuri! The letter from UA has arrived!” she exclaims excitedly. My eyes widen, and I snatch the letter from her hands before dashing to my room to open it. I sit at my desk and carefully peel open the envelope, and a circular metal thing fell out and it projected a screen.

"I am here." All Might appeared on the screen, " Sayuri Kuramoto you did extremely well on your written exam. You are probably wondering why I'm giving you your results, well it's because starting this term I am the newest teacher at U.A. high school haha. You Sayuri Kuramoto also did well on your practical exam and managed to get 40 attack points, but that is not all here at U.A. We like to take into account what really makes a hero and that is protecting people and so we had a panel of judges watch from behind the scenes and they would give out points to whoever they saw perform a heroic attack and give you rescue points you 15 rescue points putting you in 4th place getting you into U.A.'s Class 1 A hero course. Welcome you have made it."

As soon as I hear All Might say that, I dash outside to share the news with my grandmother. The moment I tell her, she embraces me tightly, overwhelmed with joy.