#maybe it’s his selfishness????? not sure

[pandapetals]

Faking It

During sex, you fake an orgasm causing Logan to spiral. Once he confronts you about it, he wants to prove he can make you feel good without faking it.

logan howlett x fem!reader - established relationship, no reader description, no y/n used, faking an orgasm, self-loathing logan, slight angst, imagined worst logan but this gives dofp!logan too, vibes, smut, feral logan, p in v sex, oral, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie 

a/n: idea from @yxtkiwiyxt - it ate away at my brain and being on my period really caused this to be born

divider credit: @enchanthings

Logan could feel everything. Every shift in your body, every flicker in your expression, every whispered contradiction between what you said and felt. He didn’t just sense when you lied—he absorbed it, like static in the air before a storm.

Now, with your body beneath his, every nerve in him was attuned to you. The heat of your skin pressed against his, the rhythmic creak of the mattress, the broken gasps you offered him—it was intoxicating. Yet it wasn’t enough. Something was off.

The faint furrow of your brow was his first clue. At first, he thought it was pleasure, that delicious kind of tension that came right before you unraveled. But then he felt the subtle stiffness in your thighs, the shallow way you breathed, and a flicker of doubt crackled through his chest. The feral part of him that craved, that demanded—urged him forward, driving him to thrust harder, deeper, desperate to coax something real out of you. He growled low in your ear, his voice rough with need.

“C’mon, pretty girl… make a mess for me,” he rasped, his teeth grazing the delicate line of your jaw.

You whimpered, but it wasn’t the sound he was chasing. And when the moan came—high-pitched, trembling, but hollow—it hit him like a cold slap to the face. It wasn’t real. He knew it wasn’t real.

His hands tightened on your hips as frustration swirled with something darker, something that felt too close to shame. His feral side snarled inside him, demanding he keep going, demanding release, and for one selfish, fleeting moment, he gave in. He pushed through, riding the edge until he spilled into you with a broken groan, collapsing onto the bed beside you as his chest heaved.

The room felt too quiet after, too still. Your fingers trailed idly over his chest, your touch soft and featherlight, but Logan’s body felt stiff beneath your hand. He turned his head, searching your face in the dim light, and when you offered a lazy smile, it was like glass shattering in his chest.

“I make you feel good, gorgeous?” he asked, his voice low and soft, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe he didn’t want to hear the answer.

“Uh-huh,” you murmured, snuggling closer to him like it was nothing. Like the lie wasn’t still hanging heavy in the air between you.

Logan wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t oblivious. That tiny, fake little moan echoed in his ears, replaying like a bad song on repeat. And it hurt. God, it hurt. He’d been in your bed, in your body, but not once had he felt like he was truly with you. Not tonight.

Still, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as his thoughts churned. He held you close, feeling your breathing slow as sleep crept in, and though his arms tightened around you protectively, his mind refused to rest.

Why had you faked it? Was it him? Something he’d done—or something he hadn’t done? Did you not trust him enough to tell him? The questions coiled in his gut, twisting and knotting until frustration and hurt blurred together in a haze of anger. And yet, despite the heat crawling under his skin, he couldn’t bring himself to wake you. Not now. 

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. Logan didn’t let things go easily—especially not when it came to you.

But figuring out how to bring it up? That wasn’t his strong suit. For a whole day, he sat on it, the frustration gnawing at him like a splinter buried too deep to pull out. He replayed every moment in his head: the way your body tensed, the way your fake moan had grated against his ears, the way you had smiled afterward like nothing had happened. By the time the sun had begun to set again, the weight of it had him wound so tight it felt like a rubber band about to snap. And, unfortunately for Wade, Logan’s rubber band tended to snap loudly.

The bar was dimly lit, its usual haze of stale beer and cigarette smoke clinging to the air. Logan sat nursing a whiskey he’d barely touched, his mood written all over his face. Wade, of course, was oblivious—or maybe just ignoring it. He leaned on the counter beside Logan, rambling on about some escapade Logan hadn’t bothered to keep track of. His jaw clenched tighter with every passing second until Wade finally poked the wrong bear.

“You’ve been pissy all day,” Wade said, squinting at Logan like he was examining a strange animal. ��Let me guess, you finally found someone who doesn’t think your claws are sexy? Or—oh, wait—” Wade’s face lit up with a spark of mischief. “You’re telling me you couldn’t make your girlfriend orgasm?”

Logan stiffened.

“Oh, peanut,” Wade gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like he was genuinely heartbroken. “Say it ain’t so! The big bad Wolverine, all growls and muscles, and—nothing? Nada? No fireworks?”

Logan’s hand slammed down on the bar, the sound sharp enough to make a few heads turn. He rounded on Wade, eyes blazing, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about, so maybe shut your damn mouth before I shut it for you.”

Wade blinked, and there was a beat of silence—a rare occurrence for him. But it lasted all of two seconds before his lips quirked into a grin. “Ohhhh, I hit a nerve, didn’t I? Don’t worry, champ, it happens to the best of us. Well, not to me, obviously, but—”

“Wade.” Logan’s tone cut through the air like a blade. The room seemed to drop a few degrees as Logan pushed himself up from the barstool, his knuckles white against the edge of the counter. Wade threw up his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright! Geez, no need to go full Wolverine on me.” Wade stepped back, but not without muttering under his breath, “Touchy subject, huh?”

Logan ignored him. He grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the bar, his mind racing. Wade might be an idiot, but even idiots could land a hit when they weren’t aiming. The truth was, the jab had struck too close to home. He didn’t care about the idea of failure, not really—not when it came to anyone else. But with you? It felt like a crack in something he hadn’t even realized was fragile.

When Logan got back to your shared space, you were curled up on the couch, your feet tucked under you as you watched TV. The sight of you—so calm, so untouched by the storm that had been raging inside him all day—made something snap loose in his chest. He couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Can we talk?” His voice was gruff, but quieter than you expected, almost hesitant.

You glanced up, surprised. “Of course. What’s wrong?”

Logan ran a hand through his hair, pacing a little before settling on the edge of the coffee table in front of you. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Last night,” he started, his voice strained. “Somethin’ was off. I know it. You know it. And I can’t stop thinkin’ about it.”

Your stomach twisted, guilt pooling in your chest. “Logan, I—”

“You faked it,” he said bluntly, cutting to the heart of it. His eyes finally lifted to meet yours, and the vulnerability there nearly knocked the wind out of you. “Why?”

The word hung in the air between you.

You swallowed hard, turning the TV off and shifting in your seat. “It wasn’t you,” you said quickly, wanting to get that part out first. “I mean, it wasn’t because of you. It’s… me.”

His brow furrowed, and he leaned back slightly, his arms crossing over his chest as he studied you. “What does that mean?”

You took a deep breath, your hands twisting in your lap. “I’ve been in my head lately,” you admitted. “I’ve been… struggling. With work, with stress, with feeling like I’m enough. And I guess last night, I just—” You hesitated, looking away. “I didn’t want you to feel like you weren’t enough. So I faked it.”

Logan stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he exhaled a low sound that was more frustration with himself than anything else. “Darlin’,” he said, his voice softer now. “You don’t have to fake anything with me. Ever.”

“I know,” you whispered, your throat tight. “I just… I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” Logan’s voice sharpened, and he leaned forward again, his hands reaching out to take yours. “You think that’s what this is about? I don’t care about some… performance. I care about you. And if somethin’s wrong, I wanna know. I wanna fix it, not pretend it doesn’t exist.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you gave a small nod. “I’m sorry,” you murmured.

He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. Just… tell me when something’s wrong, okay?” His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, his voice softening again.

You managed a small smile, squeezing his hands. “Okay.” 

Logan’s lips brushed your forehead before he pulled you into his arms. His touch was warm, and grounding, but there was something beneath it—something deliberate. His hands settled on your hips like he was afraid you might pull away.

“Now,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “let me make you feel good.”

You tilted your head back to look at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “Logan, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine—”

He cut you off with a shake of his head, his thumb brushing over the curve of your waist. “No, you’re not,” he said plainly, his tone gruff but tender. His eyes met yours, intense and unwavering, and his lips quirked into a faint smirk. “You’re stressed. I can see it. I can feel it.”

Your breath hitched as his hands slid down your arms, calloused fingertips trailing a path that sent shivers racing across your skin. “Let me take care of you,” he said, his voice softer now, more coaxing.

And honestly? There was no denying it. The idea of Logan worshipping your body—of losing yourself in the way he always seemed to know exactly what you needed—was too tempting to resist. You swallowed hard, your lips parting slightly as his gaze dropped to your mouth.

“I mean…” You tried to keep your voice steady, but it wavered as his hands slid lower, settling on the backs of your thighs. “If you insist…”

Logan let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Oh, I insist,” he drawled, his grip tightening just enough to make your stomach flip. Before you could process the thought, he was lifting you with ease, his strength as effortless as it was intoxicating.

The world tilted as he carried you to the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He laid you down with a kind of reverence that made your chest ache, his broad frame hovering over you. His lips found the delicate curve of your neck, and your breath hitched as he kissed his way down, the scrape of his stubble sending sparks skittering across your skin.

By the time his hands found the waistband of your underwear, you were already melting under his touch. He peeled them off slowly, his eyes darkening as they roamed your bare skin. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice thick with desire.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words dissolved into a soft gasp as his lips trailed lower, his mouth hot and insistent against your collarbone. His hands gripped your hips, grounding you as he shifted lower, and the anticipation coiled in your stomach like a live wire.

“Logan,” you whispered, his name slipping from your lips like a plea.

He glanced up at you, his smirk returning as he settled between your thighs. “Relax, darlin’,” he murmured, his hands spreading your legs with deliberate care. “Let me take my time with you.”

The first press of his mouth was soft and exploratory, but it didn’t stay that way for long. Logan was nothing if not thorough, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that left you breathless. He watched your every reaction, the flicker of his eyes on you making it clear he was entirely in control—but completely devoted to you.

Your hands tangled in his hair as the tension inside you built, his name falling from your lips in broken whispers. He hummed against you, the vibrations making you arch into him, and he responded by gripping your hips tighter, holding you in place as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

And when you finally came undone, shuddering and gasping beneath him, Logan didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow.

“Logan,” you gasped, your voice trembling as your body shook with aftershocks.

“Not done with you yet, pretty girl,” he rasped, his voice low and gravelly. His lips curved into a wicked grin, and before you could catch your breath, he dipped his head again, his mouth finding you with renewed purpose.

Time blurred after that, the world narrowing to the feel of him, the sound of him, the way he seemed utterly consumed by the act of worshipping every inch of you. By the time he finally let you catch your breath, your body was boneless, your mind a haze of blissful exhaustion.

Logan crawled up the bed, his lips brushing over your temple as he pulled you into his arms. His hands, still warm and steady, skimmed over your back, grounding you in the aftermath of it all.

“Better?” he asked, his voice soft now, full of quiet satisfaction.

You let out a shaky laugh, burying your face in his chest. “You could say that,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin.

Logan chuckled softly as he kissed the top of your head. His hand rested against the small of your back, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin. “Good,” he murmured, his tone laced with smug satisfaction but dripping with affection. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

You nodded weakly, still catching your breath, your body feeling boneless in the aftermath of his touch. Every nerve was still humming, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself. But then you felt it—a shift in the air, a change in the weight of the bed as Logan leaned forward.

Your eyes fluttered open just in time to see the smirk tugging at his lips, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. He hovered above you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his body.

His lips brushed over yours in a soft kiss making your heart stutter. “Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely above a whimper.

“I know,” he replied, his breath warm against your lips. “But I’m not done with you yet.” His voice was a low growl, rough edges softened by something tender and utterly consuming. “I just want to make you feel so good.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your head sinking back into the pillows. “You did, Logan. I promise—”

He cut you off with a smirk, the curve of his lips playful and dangerous. “Okay, then,” he drawled, his tone dropping to something darker, something that sent a shiver down your spine. “If you’re good, I want to hear you whimper my name.”

Before you could protest—or agree—his hand slid down your body, his touch slow and deliberate. His calloused fingertips brushed over your stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, before they dipped lower, tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Your breath hitched, your body instinctively arching toward him as his hand moved closer, teasing and torturously slow. Logan’s gaze never left yours, and the intensity in his eyes made your pulse race.

“Logan…” you moaned softly, his name slipping from your lips like a reflex as his fingers finally slid between your thighs.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble of satisfaction. His touch was firm but unhurried, exploring you with a focus that made your head spin. His thumb moved in a way that had your legs trembling, and when his fingers pressed exactly where you needed them, your back arched off the mattress, a gasp spilling from your lips.

“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered, almost to himself, as if he couldn’t quite believe the way you were unraveling beneath him. His free hand gripped your hip, holding you steady as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, the tension coiling tighter with every stroke.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak—all you could do was feel. Logan was relentless, his lips brushing against your neck, your collarbone, and your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses that made your skin tingle. He alternated between soft and demanding, his touch a perfect balance of control and devotion.

“Logan,” you whimpered again, your voice breaking on the syllable as the pressure built impossibly high, teetering on the edge of something devastatingly good.

“There it is,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire, his lips ghosting over your ear. “That’s my girl.”

The words sent a jolt of heat straight through you, and with one more perfectly placed movement of his hand, you shattered. Your body arched into him as pleasure crashed over you, wave after wave, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer.

Logan didn’t stop right away—he worked you through it, his hands steady, his lips murmuring quiet praises against your skin as you rode out the high. By the time the tremors subsided, you were trembling, your body utterly spent.

He finally pulled his hand away, his touch leaving a trail of warmth in its absence. Logan leaned down, brushing his lips over yours in a kiss. 

“Still with me, darlin’?” he asked, his voice soft, his smirk replaced with something gentler as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You managed a weak nod, your body still buzzing, and Logan chuckled, the sound warm and rumbling.

“Good,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms. His hand slid up your back, holding you close as your head rested against his chest. “Because I think you’ve got one more in you.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your cheeks flushing. 

“What?” Logan murmured, his smirk teasing and wicked as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. His breath was warm against your skin, and the way his lips lingered made your stomach twist with anticipation. “Told you, I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could reply, his hands began their slow descent, tracing the curves of your body with deliberate care. His palms were warm and rough, gliding over your hips and your thighs. Every touch felt like a promise he had no intention of breaking.

“Logan…” you started, but your words dissolved into a shaky exhale as his fingers found the sensitive spot just above your knee, kneading gently before sliding higher.

He shifted above you, his movements unhurried, his gaze dark and hungry as he took in the sight of you sprawled beneath him. “You can take it,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You watched as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants, the fabric slipping down his hips in one fluid motion. The sight of him, the sheer confidence in how he moved, made your breath catch. He tossed the pants aside without a second thought, his smirk deepening as he leaned back over you, his body heat radiating against your skin.

“Give me one more,” he murmured, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear. His tone was soft but commanding, his words rolling over you like a wave, pulling you under.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up, though it was breathless, tinged with disbelief at his sheer audacity. “I thought this was supposed to be about me feeling good,” you teased, your voice light, though your heart was pounding.

Logan’s lips quirked into a lopsided grin, but his eyes burned with intent. “Oh, it is,” he drawled, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh, pulling you flush against him. “But I’m pretty damn sure you’ll feel real good giving me what I want.”

The heat in his gaze sent a fresh rush of anticipation coursing through you, and you felt your teasing resolve falter. His fingers trailed over your skin, mapping every inch of you as if he were committing it to memory. When he shifted lower, pressing his lips to your collarbone, then to the soft curve of your breast, his mouth was hot and insistent, each kiss drawing soft gasps from your lips.

You barely had time to process the way his teeth grazed over your skin, sending sparks skittering down your spine, before his hips pressed against yours, his body slotting against yours perfectly. His movements were slow at first like he was savoring every reaction he pulled from you.

Then Logan whispered, husky and dripping with that dark, primal edge, “I want you to feel it everywhere, darlin’—every inch, every second. No faking this time.”

Your breath hitched, the intensity in his voice making your head spin, your body arching into him in a silent plea. Logan’s lips curved into a knowing smirk against your skin. His hands were everywhere—gripping, teasing, worshiping—making it impossible to think, let alone resist the pull of him.

As his mouth found yours, the kiss was all-consuming with the addictive mix of dominance and tenderness only Logan could manage. You clung to him, your hands sliding over the planes of his back, your nails digging in just enough to make him groan against your lips.

“You feelin’ good yet?” he teased, his voice low and rough, thick with need. His lips hovered over yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath, but not quite touching, a maddening taunt that sent a fresh wave of anticipation rolling through you.

Your fingers curled against his shoulders, desperate to ground yourself as his pace shifted. He moved deeper, his hips rolling in a way that made your back arch off the bed, a gasp tumbling from your lips before you could stop it. The deliberate rhythm he’d kept moments ago began to unravel, his movements growing more intense, more insistent.

“Logan,” you whimpered, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, shaky and breathless.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he growled, his voice rumbling in his chest like a distant storm. His lips brushed over your jawline, leaving a trail of heat as they trailed down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. When his teeth grazed your skin, a soft cry escaped you, your body tightening beneath him.

He groaned low, the sound vibrating against your neck, as your nails dug deeper into the muscles of his back. “So good for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with praise.

Your response came in broken gasps and soft whimpers, your head falling back as the sensations overwhelmed you. Each thrust was deliberate, calculated, but they grew harder, deeper, until your body melted into the mattress, pliant and trembling under him.

The tension in your stomach coiled tighter, white-hot, and electric until it felt like you might come undone. You couldn’t think, speak—could barely even hold on—your body responding to him instinctively, as though it were made just for this.

“Look at me,” Logan rasped, his voice pulling you back to him. Your eyes fluttered open, dazed, to find his gaze locked on yours, burning and unrelenting. “That’s it, pretty girl. I want to see you.”

His hips pressed into you again, hitting the spot so devastating that your eyes rolled back and a broken cry escaped your lips. You clung to him, your body trembling as pleasure surged through you, raw and overwhelming. His name spilled from your mouth in a whisper, soft and reverent, and it only seemed to spur him on.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his voice rough and frayed, his movements driving you higher and higher. “Just like that.”

When you finally broke, the world seemed to splinter apart, the sensation crashing over you in waves so intense you could hardly breathe. Your body arched into his, your thighs shaking as your release consumed you, dragging you under.

Logan slowed, his touch gentler now as you trembled in his arms. He pressed soft kisses to your neck, shoulder, and temple, breathing heavily and unevenly against your skin.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice softer now, warm and teasing as his lips ghosted over yours.

You managed a weak nod, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks, and he chuckled, his breath tickling your cheek.

“That’s my girl,” he said, his tone low and full of quiet pride. He tucked you closer against him, his arms wrapping around you protectively, and you let yourself melt into his warmth, utterly spent but completely safe in his embrace.

[tobesolonely]

untitled angsty but then sweet piece...

hello guys!! it's been like over a year lol. I was going through my google doc and found this and I feel like I never posted it? so now I am posting it. maybe this can be a part 1 but also we know I'm great at starting multipart stories and not finishing them so lets see

૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა

warnings: none (~1.2k words)

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

“You're just gonna ignore me then, babe?”

Y/N continues silently puttering around in the kitchen, going out of her way to make sure her back remained turned on Harry. There weren't many ways to get under his skin, but throughout her years of being with him she learned that being on the receiving end of the silent treatment usually made him fold pretty quickly. She was annoyed with her husband and the fact that he seemed clueless as to why made her even more upset.  

“I take your silence as a yes?” 

More puttering. More re-wiping the already clean counters. Starting the tea kettle. Washing her hands. Anything to not acknowledge Harry, really.

“I can’t make it better if you don't tell me why you're so upset, love,” he takes a tentative step toward her. “I know we've been together for ages but I still can't read your mind. Think ‘m gettin’ real close, though.”

This is said jokingly, and she knows her husband is just trying to dissipate the tension that's thick in their kitchen, making the spacious room seem impossibly small. She doesn't acknowledge his joke, doesn't crack a smile because that would give him too much satisfaction. Nothing made Harry cockier than being the reason for Y/N’s laugh, a sound so sweet she’s pretty sure he’d forbid everyone on the planet except him from listening to it because he wanted it all to himself. He always told her it was music to his ears.

The fact that he doesn't even know what he did is what finally causes her to break, muttering about how fucking ridiculous he is under her breath. It's not lost on Harry. 

“Now you've moved on from ignoring me to cursing at me?” he sounds more curious than upset, taking another step toward her. She backs away, defensively crossing her arms over her chest and she doesn't miss the way Harry’s brow furrows at the action. “Can y’please tell me what I did, Y/N? Please?” When she looks down at the ground, ignoring his please, he begs some more. He’s not above groveling, really. 

“Please, angel? Lemme fix it,” his eyes are wide and wild as he wildly searches hers for some clue as to what he did wrong. “Tell me-”

“Am I always just gonna come second with you?” 

She can almost see the wheels in her husband’s head turning, knows he's choosing his words carefully before he speaks so as not to upset her any further. 

“Okay, love,” he runs a ringer hand through his hair. “Can you be a little bit more specific?”

“We had plans this afternoon, Harry. We were gonna try that new café that just opened. I was looking forward to it,” she doesn't care if this makes her sound selfish and childish. “I know you were working and I know you how much you love to do that, but sometimes I feel like-”

“Don’t even finish that thought,”  Harry cuts her off and his tone is sharp, calloused. “That’s not true.”

“You know, at first I was worried something happened when you didn't show,” Y/N continues like she didn't hear him. “But then I realized nope, you probably just forgot or couldn't get out of another meeting. Just like always.”

A look of sadness flashes across Harry’s face, which quickly transforms to indignant anger. “Don't throw this in my face, Y/N. You know how much I hate that.” 

“So I’m supposed to be mindful of the things you hate, but you can't be mindful of the things I hate?”

“You don't get it,” he mumbles under his breath, growing increasingly done with the conversation the longer it drags on. “You're not in the industry. I can't just always leave-” 

“Then blame it on me! Make me the bad guy, Harry,” she finally turns all the way around to face him completely. “The people you work with get to see you more than I do…the fans…” Y/N trails off, letting her unfinished thoughts hang limply in the air. 

It’s quiet between the couple for no more than thirty seconds, but it feels like a lifetime. Harry breaks it first - he always does. He inhaled a deep shaky breath, trying to call forward the breathing techniques his therapist taught him to use in high-stress situations. Right now counts as a high-stress situation. 

“You’re right, angel,” the pet name slips off his tongue easily which comforts Y/N. Harry’s not as upset as she thought he was. He’s still her Harry. “That’s not fair of me, is it?”

All Y/N can do is shake her head, lower lip jutted out. She knows if she tries speaking she’ll start crying, and she doesn't want to cry. All she wants is for Harry to understand. Harry however, knows her too well. He knows the look she gets on her face when she's trying really hard not to cry and he knows she goes silent because she doesn't trust her voice not to come out shakey. He decides to continue talking.

“I should've called you and let you know I’d be late- or told you we needed to reschedule. I’m sorry I left you hanging, darling.” He pauses, selecting his next words very wisely. Harry knows his wife is sensitive. The last thing he wants is for her to think he's blaming her for anything. “...but it seems like this is about more than me missing our lunch. Which, again, I'm very sorry about. I'm taking you wherever you want for dinner tonight and I'll make you dessert when we get home. Let's talk more about this though, yeah?”

“You also have to be in charge of picking up after Hershey for a month,” Y/N responds with a small smile on her face. Hershey was the couple’s tiny brown poodle who was the cutest puppy in the world. “Thank you.”

“Mmm,” Harry hums, knowing his wife was trying to keep the conversation lighthearted since she hated confrontation. Since being with Harry her communication skills have improved tremendously since he was so good at it and wanted to talk about everything, but healthy communication clearly still didn't come as easily to her. “Talk to me, angel. What’s this about?”

Harry’s in front of her now, arms wrapped limply around her waist. He walks her backward until the small of her back hits the counter then he tells her to, “jump” so he can lift her onto the counter. Once she's situated he settles himself in between her legs and places his arms back on their place on her waist. Harry looks intently into Y/N’s eyes and she knows she won’t be leaving that spot until she tells him what's bothering her, so she just says it.

“I want a baby.” 

Harry raises his eyebrows in quick surprise before breaking out in a wide grin- the kind that causes his nose to scrunch up and wrinkles to form around his eyes. 

“You want a baby? W’ me?”

Y/N doesn’t return his smile, which quickly makes Harry’s turn into a frown.

“Why don’t you look happy?”

Y/N sighs, her eyes avoiding Harry’s. He gently places his index finger under her chin and pushes it up, forcing her to look into his eyes. He’s desperately searching his wife’s eyes, trying to figure out why she isn’t more excited about coming to this big decision. Harry has been ready for years of course, but he never wanted her to feel pressured.

“You’re never here, Harry. I don’t want to feel like a single mom.” Y/N looks down again and Harry doesn’t lift her chin back up this time. In fact, he doesn’t say anything. It’s silent for what feels like a couple minutes but is actually maybe only twenty seconds, the faucet leaking being the only sound heard throughout the whole house.

“Y/N…love,” Harry inhales a shaky breath, removing one of his hands from her hip to run his fingers through his curls. “I never want to make you feel like you’re alone. Not just with this, but…with anything.” Harry gently knuckles away a stray tear falling down Y/N’s cheek. 

“I know you don’t mean to make me feel this way, H. I guess it’s just what I signed up for when I married a popstar, yeah?” Harry can tell Y/N is trying to lighten the mood, but he doesn’t like that he’s the reason for he feeling this way.

“You didn’t “sign up” for anything, love. I’m your husband and you’re my wife and we’re supposed to be there for each other through it all, good and bad.” Y/N opens her mouth to say something but Harry gently pinches her hip, muttering for her to let him finish. “I want a baby with you. I want everything with you, Y/N. I want to be here for everything. I’m going to be better about being here.”

“H…I love you and I know you’ll try, but you’ve said this before-”

“I’ll take a break, babe. Cancel everything,” Harry’s talking faster now, excitement about his plan evident in his voice. “We’ll focus on ourselves and start our family. Go out of the country and leave my bloody phone here, if you’d like.” Y/N giggles at that, which makes Harry give her a big, dimpled grin.

“Will it be okay? With Jeff and everyone?” Although Y/N’s sure people on Harry’s team won’t be happy with his sudden change in plans, she can’t deny how charming the idea sounds. She could already picture them at their favorite villa in Italy, the one Harry purchased as a wedding gift to her and where they spent their unforgettable honeymoon. In all honesty, she’s surprised they didn’t get a baby out of that trip.

“Let me worry about that. You just worry about buying yourself some new bikinis, yeah?” Harry places a lingering kiss to Y/N’s jawbone. “Perhaps a few things for me to rip off you too, hmm?”

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

hooray for happy endings :')

[lucygraysboy]

wouldn’t hurt a shrimp. billy can’t refrain from straight up giggling at that wording, loving how accurate it is, how lucy gray stays true to character. he loves playing like this and acting, getting to be someone else for a moment, but the lines keep blurring — the looks that he’s giving her, the way his heart only continues to swell with each praise, his hands and arms itching to touch and hold her… he doesn’t have to fake any of it. it comes naturally to him. it’s all billy, not tristan the pirate prince, or maybe it’s both. “oh, well, then i’m truly lucky to have found you and not some evil mermaid who pries on sailors. we’re both the lucky ones,” he coos, leaning in and using the tip of his nose to bump her shoulder. “no, i don’t think so. i’m a particularly curious person, but it’s partially ‘cause i find you so fascinating.” which once again isn’t just play pretend on his end. “mhm, just to ensure it’ll heal well.” beaming down at her when she allows another kiss, this time, he makes sure to actually press his lips to her wet skin. “mwah!” it barely lasts two seconds, but his heart nearly bursts. her skin so warm and soft beneath his mouth, so sweet and delicate, his whole world shaking. what would he do to kiss her lips like this… “you’re too kind to me, rainmist. are you sure you’re only a mermaid? not an angel?” he muses, experiencing very similar feelings. on one hand, it would be so easy to just close the distance between their lips and give into this burning need to show her how exactly he feels about her. on the other hand, though, she’s not just a random girl from a saloon, and what does he have to offer her? he can’t even offer her his presence. it would be so very selfish of him to make her fall in love with him and then leave, even with the promise to come back in two months time. he loves her, but it’s all happening so fast and his feelings are so very intense that they scare him, too. he’s only ever been with one woman before. alice. but she never made him feel so light and fluttery, so desperate and sick with the mere need to hold her hand. he can’t risk losing lucy gray for a kiss. he can’t have her become just another alice. a stranger. a blurry memory. she deserves so much better. “is that so? fate must have brought us together then. a prince and a princess,” he muses, pulling her into his lap once she coils her slender arm around his neck, his own curling around her small waist. his chest pressed to her back, hand gently squeezing hers. “as a mermaid princess, do you have any special powers?” 

“well, there’s bad people everywhere. even in the sea. there’s sweet mermaids who wouldn’t hurt a shrimp. and there’s some not so good mermaids who could be capable of doing so.” the brunette replies, shaking her head before wiggling her nose as his finger trailing down the slope tickles and causes her to laugh. watching him scoop water over her pretend injury, rainmist laughs again. “are all humans as curious as you?” smiling endearingly, she’d definitely find it super cute if she were a real mermaid. she finds it that way even as a human. “hmmm, for good measure you say?” tapping her chin, brow raises, “okay, if you think it needs it.” smiling in amusement, turning her head to cover her mouth as the laughter spills over. he just wants to do it again for some reason. “you don’t need it…your heart’s royal enough. that makes you a prince in my eyes.” the brunette beams, speaking affectionately. unsure if that’s her mermaid character or herself speaking at this point… oh, it’s definitely both. her cheeks flushing under the late spring sun, butterflies scattering in her chest frantically at their hands and fingers touching. what’s happening and what does she do with this scary feeling? looking at his eyes, she’s masking how badly she wants to look AWAY with a grin and laughter escaping despite the shyness welling in her fawn gaze. the feeling in her chest makes her feel like she’s about to faint. she’s not supposed to really feel these feelings of affection towards him… so fast. and oddly, there’s a grand parallel in it. rainmist has met tristan in a few minutes. and she, lucy gray, has met billy in only a day and it feels like she has known him for a life time. that’s what’s scary about it… because how does someone feel that way? truly? about another human all that quickly. isn’t her mind only playing tricks? maybe she’s just desperate to be loved? maybe he’s desperate to be loved. she’s in disbelief that that’s how soulmates work, when she’s the number one believer in soulmates which doesn’t make sense. convincing herself her mind is just clouded by how he saved her, is honest, and a gentleman and not the callous person she was originally scared of him being. but it’s so intense, it nearly makes her nauseous and feel like tearing away from him and running to put at least twenty feet between them. “that’s my secret… i am a princess. i needed my prince. and— you showed, helped my tail and saved me from getting hurt under that ship.” squeezing his hands, one hand lets go to wrap her arm around his neck, hugging him again for really saving her earlier.

[thehelltingvilleclub]

Helltingville Epilogues

Want some old men? have old men and the lonely rat bastard Captain Dickey.

From left to right:

Jerry - Mandi - Cherri (Left) - William "Buck" Titus (Right) - Bill - May - Pete - Jane - Amari (Matt's younger sister) - Josh - Matt

dude this took me too long

but man do I love all of em

Jerry and Mandi don't end up together permanently-- but they do have their kids together. I genuinely imagine Jerry ends up like Scout TF2 style as a single dad to like 4 kids but he loves them all equally and gives them all the attention he can.

And when he can't handle them all, he'll just drag Bill over and make him deal with them.

Yes, in Helltingville the gang stick together.. kind of. Like old friends that happen to live nearby-- they meet up occasionally, they keep tabs on each other online, they might even have a christmas party together, but they definitely are not hanging out regularly like they did as kids.

Jerry and May's anxiety can't take it, Josh's heart can't take it, and Bill can't take the guilt of knowing that, so its sparingly, but they'll keep in touch.

During the heavy confrontation after Comicon and after, Bill kinda.. hit rock bottom? Like if he hit rock bottom as a teenager then he hit the bottom of satan's fucking boot. Getting reemed out by Matt, disgusting looks from everyone and even his sister, seeing everyone so happy without him--

he struggles with that, and he hates it. He gets so unbelievably angry with himself for being both equally stupid and selfish. He shouldn't be upset about this! They're just stupid fake fans that don't understand him, right? then why the hell is he three bottles in and he still feels like shit?

Jerry and May keep tabs on Bill the most, checking on him and forcing him into therapy. Jerry uses him as a free babysitter, May enjoys the company when she isn't on set with Pete, and Bill isn't passed out drunk in his mom's basement.

Jane and Amari were enemies in high school, they actually hated each others GUTS. Amari was captain of the cheerleading team and Jane had her punk girl gang. And yet, in college, they managed to get together and put aside their differences. (Plus, Amari has the same infatuation problem as Matt... and her type is scrawny women that could stab a bitch, apparently).

Matt does develop a bit.. of an alcohol issue. He's so stressed from work, worried about Josh and his health, BILL being ALIVE, Bill being NEAR HIM, Bill staring at his SISTER bro his liver is crying.

Josh.. kind of knows. He can tell that Matt drinks at dinner and maybe a sip or two before bed, but He doesn't want to step out of line and make Matt upset. The last thing he wants is to upset his fiance and get yelled at again for being useless. He doesn't need to go down memory lane.

Cherri develops a vocal stim similar to Jerry, and struggles to talk otherwise and is usually hiding behind him whenever they aren't in their room. Buck, on the other hand, will not stop asking questions or shut the fuck up. this kid has enough energy to power the sun and his brain never turns off. Sorry Bill, you're gonna have to explain the entire Star Trek lore because you mentioned Star Logs and did the Vulcan Salute and now he demands to know what that is.

May works with Pete on occasion, mostly on a commission basis from Butchie. She helps make props and walks new actresses through the ropes and makes sure they're safe on set. Pete is just happy his woman's with him and you BET he brags "guys look at my girlfriend god I love her--"

And yes, they're looking to name their kiddo Sidney, but it's still a toss up. Bill says the name sounds dumb but won't help May pick any new ones to add to the list, so his opinion can get stuck in a meatgrinder.

Guys i have too much to say about them.

[lilithofpenandbook]

Do you think that Snape, after being yelled at by McGonagall for showing her attitude and somehow the fight escalating to their past when Snape was a child, and told that if he was actually traumatised by her actions, he'd be afraid of her, not rude to her, would lock himself in his room and cry, cry, cry, because despite the fact that he fought back and screamed that he IS traumatised, that she DID hurt him by not being there, that she IS responsible for him being this way, he isn't sure? Because every single person around him tells him that he's the problem. That he's rude. That it's his fault the other party was offended. Even though he didn't mean to be rude, he was just being him, but surely he's the problem if everyone's saying it? Or maybe he's surrounded by the wrong people? Or maybe he is wrong, and he is a horrible person, he is a piece of trash, he's wrong and just stubborn?

Do you think that sometimes he doesn't even know if he's right or wrong? That he doesn't even care, all he knows is that he's so, so angry, he's in so, SO much pain, he wants to scream, he wants to cry, it all hurts and no one's coming to make it better and he can never get it out, he can never truly vocalise it because the words won't come, and he looks hysterical, insane, and selfish.

He's just tired.

[affableramen]

Can I get yandere capitano with reader that lash out at him and then accidentally slap him?

Immediately after reader cried and gently caress the place they slap and apologize to capitano.

I have always loved the trope of gentle and kind characters who hurt someone in a fit of rage and immediately regret it and turn even gentler while apologizing

“How could you not tell me!” A slap across his cheek is strong, not something he would expect from his dear loving girlfriend who had never been violent, except for some harmless banter that occurred between you two from time to time.

You face Capitano with disappointment yet his piercing blue eyes bore into you with pity and admiration. Capitano stays silent for a couple of long minutes. Really, what is to say more? He tricked you and will never possibly deserve your forgiveness afterwards.

“Telling me is one thing, but… why did you even start all of this relationship with me, if your end goal was to sacrifice yourself?”

“You knew who you were dating”, is the only thing Capitano says after the moments of grieving silence, nastily wrapping its arms around the both of you and pulling into abyss. Capitano was speechless and so were you; yes, you knew he was dangerous, and he was honourable, and that sooner or later he would die as a hero, because such were his convictions. But you didn’t expect it to be so soon. You nearly spent a few weeks with him in Natlan. It was all so unfair…

“Have you ever thought about me? How I would suffer your death? Have you ever considered what’d happen to me once you’re gone?” You ask him, honestly and straightforward as line. Of course, Capitano thought about it. It brought him no less agonising pain to think of what would happen of you once he’s gone. You were too attached, too affectionate, and he… was just a warrior. A Harbinger.

“I know such actions are incredibly selfish of me. I should have not let you believe I would be there for you always. It is true – I planned to sacrifice myself for a long time. But I allowed myself such weakness, I allowed myself you.” He looks at you, unmasked and with the red mark blooming on his cheek brightly. “I fell in love with you, deeply and utterly.”

“And now you’re going to leave”, you sob, your voice breaks as you raise your hand to caress his wounded face.

It would be ridiculous to even imagine but for a brief moment of time you saw a tear appear in the corner of Thrain’s eye as you held him so closely and affectionately, the height difference served no obstacle for you.

“I cannot promise you anything, but… maybe, it’s not the end”, Thrain says with emotion in his voice. “Maybe, there is a way to… for me… to return. But not so soon.”

“No, Thrain, don’t you dare give me hopes now.”

“No. It’s just that Fatui is plotting something involving me, and I am not sure what that is”, he takes your hand and presses a gentle kiss on top of it. His dry lips graze against your smooth knuckles and he seemingly is not ready to let you go, either. “I just want you to know that I loved… love you. More than anything.”

“Oh, Thrain…”

Capitano then slowly pulls you into the kiss, as if asking your permission to hold you. His hands wrapping around your waist move with unusual gentleness. He pulls one hand into your hair, playing with it as he sees fit, as if trying to drink your appearance in.

You don’t know yet if that’s your last time together.

[sissylittlefeather]

If You Talk In Your Sleep

Chapter 2

A/N: EEEEEEEEE I'm so excited that you all loved the first chapter of this!!! I have so many big and juicy plans for this series 😈. ICYMI this is the one with 1969 Elvis and you, a casino boss's wife in Vegas. Edited to add: I can't believe I forgot to mention this!! In this universe, Lisa Marie does not exist. He and Priscilla do not have a child yet.

Click HERE for Chapter 1

Huge shout outs to @ccab and @atleastpleasetelephone for reading this one and helping me identify/fix some mistakes. Y'all, if you're writing, you need a good team of editors/proofreaders. They are PRICELESS.

Warnings: 18+ minors absolutely DNI, this is smutty and a little angsty, sex bordering on abuse (not Elvis!), and then lots of good sex, fingering, oral for her, penetrative sex, plus dirty talk, talk of cum/cumming, it's a whole thing; oh also everyone is drinking again and we're talking about the mafia in Vegas

Word count: ~3.3k

“What the…?” He picks your ring up and holds it up to the light, a sly smile spreading across his face. Now he'll have to see you again.

******

You're on your back with Carl on top of you panting and sweating when you realize that you left your ring in Elvis's pocket. You bite your lip to stifle a curse and Carl takes that as a sign that you're enjoying what he's doing. You're absolutely not. You haven't enjoyed sex with him in years, maybe ever really. He's always been selfish and crude, focused on his own pleasure. You're not even sure he knows that women are capable of orgasms, but if he does, he certainly doesn't care.

Your mind drifts back to the day Carl asked you to marry him. He was head over heels and you'd only been together for a couple of months. But he was rich and you were young, craving the security you thought he could offer. So you'd said yes and tried not to think about what you might be giving up. Still, you never dreamed it would be this bad.

“Fuck yes, you little slut. Take it, bitch.” He grunts as he ruts into you ruthlessly. You try not to grimace. It's not the words necessarily, it's the way he says them, like he's trying to make sure you know you don't matter to him, but you still belong to him. He pulls out and pumps himself, shooting cum all over your belly. Then, he rolls over next to you on his back and you sigh, reaching for something to wipe yourself off with. Carl always pulls out. He told you once that he couldn't risk you ruining your body with a kid. You had always imagined yourself with children, but not with Carl, so you're glad he doesn't cum inside you. He stands up out of bed to get ready for work while you lay on your side and try not to cry. How on earth will you get your ring back from Elvis? The thought of seeing him again makes your heart skip, but then your stomach lurches in fear. Carl cannot find out.

******

You stay in bed as Carl leaves for work. He's used to you having days where you don't get up, so he doesn't question it. In reality, this is the only way you could keep him from noticing you didn't have your ring. As soon as the door closes behind him, you walk to the kitchen and pop open a bottle of champagne. You don't really feel like celebrating, but this is the only alcohol in the house, so it'll work.

About an hour later, you're ready to go. Tonight your dress is black, fitted, and short with an ungodly amount of gold jewelry. Your hair is piled on top of your head and your eye makeup would make Twiggy jealous. Somehow, you managed to pull this off while draining the bottle of champagne. Now, you're drunk, but you stumble towards the front door with your purse, prepared to do whatever you have to do to find Elvis and get your ring back.

******

Elvis sits in his room with your ring in his hand. He's not sure how he should handle this. Does he try to go to you at the Flamingo? No, that would not be smart with your husband there. Does he go back to the Tropicana where you met and see if you're there again? That's an option, but what if you're not there? He finally decides that this is his only course of action and makes his way to the elevator.

When he gets off, his entourage in tow, he hears a commotion at the front desk. Just out of curiosity, he moves a little closer. That's when he spots you. You look impossibly sexy in the black minidress, but you seem to be harassing the front desk worker. He chuckles to himself and then walks over to you.

“I'm tellin’ you, I was here last night! I know he's here. Please just call him!” You yell at the hotel man. Your words are a little slurred from the champagne, but you're not going to let anyone stop you from seeing Elvis. “He has something of mine and I need it. I promise. Ask him.”

“She's not lying. I do have something of hers.” His smooth baritone cuts through the conversation and the hotel attendant’s mouth drops. “Hi, honey. You wanna come upstairs?”

You immediately brighten, the champagne in your system preventing you from keeping any kind of cool when you see him.

“Elvis! Yes!” He can tell you're inebriated, but he still wraps his arm around you and guides you to the elevator. His guys seem disappointed that he's not going out, but he assures them they can go without him.

On the elevator, you giggle and lean against him lazily. He looks down at you and can't help but smile at how cute you are.

When you get to his suite, you stumble a little and he scoops you into his arms to carry you to the couch.

“D’you have any champagne?” You ask, your eyes glazed.

“Honey, I think you've had enough.” He chuckles and strokes your cheek gently. “Why did you drink so much, doll?”

“I was sad.” You look down at your hands in your lap and try not to cry. “I missed you.”

He tips your chin up to make you look into his face. You close your eyes as he kisses your forehead, each of your cheeks, and then your mouth gently.

“I missed you too.” You shake your head and pull back, standing up.

“No, Elvis. I can't do this.” He stands up too.

“Do what?”

“Be here with you. I need my ring and then I need to go.” You talk quickly and look around the apartment like your ring will just be sitting somewhere.

“Hey, honey, slow down–”

“No! If I stay here you're gonna die. Carl will kill you and it'll be my fault.” You finally stop talking and the tears begin to stream down your face. He pulls you into his arms as you cry.

“Doll, that's not going to happen.” He strokes your back soothingly and kisses your forehead again. For a few minutes you let yourself melt into him and be comforted. Then, you pull away, makeup all over your face, and look up at him.

“I need my ring back, please.” He sighs and takes it out of his pocket for you. You slip it onto your finger and sniffle. It feels heavier than it did before. “Where's your bathroom?”

He gestures towards it and you go to it, fixing your makeup in the mirror. Your eyes are still puffy, but you get yourself back to some semblance of normal and then walk out to the living area. He's sitting on the couch with his head in his hands when you come out.

“You okay?” You ask tentatively, your words are clearer now that you haven't had a drink in over an hour. He wipes his face and sits up quickly.

“I'm fine.” He flashes you a fake smile and then leans back on the couch.

“You don't seem fine.”

“I was really hoping you would stay. I don't feel so… alone… with you here.” You look at the door, back at him, and then at the watch on your wrist. It's not even 10pm yet. You have plenty of time before Carl gets home.

“I can hang out for a little while.” He immediately brightens, standing up and walking to the bar. You hear a bottle of champagne pop open.

“What're you doing?” He pours a glass, drains it, and then pours another.

“Figured we might as well both be drunk.” You giggle and walk over to him at the bar. He drains a second glass as you take the bottle and drink directly from it. You move to him and stand close, looking up into his face. He smiles and whispers. “Fuck it.”

He takes a swig from the bottle and then leans down, kissing you deeply. His arms snake around your waist and he pulls you in close. When he backs out of the kiss, he presses his forehead to yours and sighs.

“Please stay for a while.”

“Are you sure you're okay?” He closes his eyes and shakes his head, taking another pull on the champagne bottle.

“Cilla wants me to come home. She and the Colonel have decided it's time for us to have a baby.” You reach for the bottle, but he keeps it and takes another drink.

“You don't wanna be a dad?”

“Not really. Priscilla is not… I just can't imagine she'd be very nurturing.” He thinks to himself that more than that, he doesn't want to tie himself to her for life. Right now, he could still get out, but once there's a kid, everything gets so much more complicated. You nod and wrap your arms around his waist.

“I know what you mean.” You lean your head on his chest and he drapes one arm over your shoulders. “You don't have a whole lot of control over your life, do you?”

“No, I fucking don't.” He chuckles bitterly and takes another long drink from the champagne bottle. You squeeze him a little and then back up, looking into his face.

“Hey. I have an idea. Let's spend tonight just the two of us. We’ll drink champagne and order room service and put on pajamas and just watch tv. You don't have to be Elvis Presley and I don't have to be the casino boss’s wife. We can just be silly drunk people.” He looks down at you as a wide smile spreads across his face.

“Let's do that.” You turn and take off running for the bedroom. He follows close behind you and tackles you on the bed, both of you giggling and out of breath. You kiss him softly a few times before you whisper.

“Jammies. We need jammies.” He stands up and gives you a little fake salute, walking to the chest of drawers to get two pairs. You laugh as he throws you a pair and starts to strip. When you take yours to the bathroom, he hollers.

“You know I've seen it all, right?” You peek your head out of the bathroom and glare at him.

“Let me maintain an illusion of mystery, sir.” He laughs and then lays down on the big bed waiting for you to come out of the bathroom. When you do, he's surprised to see you've washed your makeup off. He stands up and walks to you, a little spellbound, his eyes hazy from the alcohol. Your hair is still up, so he starts pulling pins out of it until it all falls down.

“God, you're beautiful.” He murmurs, touching your cheek gently.

“That's a nice line–”

“Not a line. Just the truth.” You stand there for a minute or two just staring at each other before he runs his thumb along your bottom lip. A flashback of Carl on top of you this afternoon shakes you to your core and you move away from him quickly to sit on the bed. He cocks his head a little. “What was that, honey?”

“Nothing. Let's just watch tv.”

“No. It was not nothing. You literally just ran away from me.” You curl up against the pillows and try not to cry. He lays on the bed behind you carefully. “Honey, talk to me.”

“Carl. He… today… and I wanted to tell him no, but he gets mad when I do.” Even though you can't see him, you feel the anger roll off of him.

“Did that sonofabitch hurt you?”

“No, it's not like that. He didn't force me or anything. I just didn't enjoy it.” He relaxes a bit, but he's still not happy. The champagne makes him bold enough to ask the next question.

“Did you at least cum?” You shake your head.

“No, I never cum. He doesn't care about that.” You sigh deeply, trying not to think about it. He presses himself up behind you and cautiously slips his hand under your pajama top to rest just below your belly button.

“I think you should let me make up for it.” You turn and look up at him over your shoulder.

“And how are you gonna do that?” He presses kisses to the skin under your ear.

“By making you cum as many times as you can.” Then, you moan softly as his hand slips further down, under your pajama bottoms and panties. He finds your clit with the tip of his middle finger and starts to rub circles on you. You whimper a little and he slides down again to your entrance, gathering the wetness and teasing you before moving back to your clit.

“Fuck, Elvis.” You reach back and grab the nape of his neck as he pushes first one and then two fingers inside you.

“Good girl. Tell me what you need.”

“What?” It comes out as a half-moan.

“Fingers? Tongue? Cock? What do you need, honey?” He coos in your ear, his voice smooth and dripping honey, as the champagne flowing in both of you heightens the sensation.

“Umm… tongue?” You're not used to being given choices in bed. It's new and you like it more than you thought you would.

“Give me a direct command. Tell me what you want.” He nibbles on your earlobe. Your eyes flutter open and you turn and look at him again. “Go ahead. Tell me what to do.”

“Lick my pussy. Now.” Your voice comes out stronger than you intend so you add a shaky, “please.”

“No please. You're in charge here. I'll do whatever you want.”

“Then I want you to go down on me until I cum. Twice.” You smirk and he smiles widely.

“Yes ma'am.” You roll onto your back as he unbuttons your pajama top and kisses down your body. Instead of waiting for him to do it, you push your pajama pants and panties down and off and then spread your legs eagerly. He doesn't waste any time settling between them and dragging his tongue up your slit. You grab ahold of his hair and roll your hips into his face as he buries his tongue inside you, his nose pressed to your clit. He eats you with an urgency you've never experienced before and it doesn't take but three thrusts with his fingers for you to fall off a cliff into a wild orgasm, your body writhing as it pulses and throbs. You expect him to stop when you come down fully, but he doesn't.

“Baby, I came…”

“I know. You said twice.” You had been joking about wanting to cum twice, assuming he would know you weren't serious, but he obviously didn't. You're not even sure it's physically possible, but he seems insistent upon making it happen. He continues licking and sucking your clit, his fingers moving against your g-spot relentlessly as the blood begins to gather between your thighs again. You sit up on your elbows and look at him in shock. He doesn't even notice as his face is buried in your pussy, determined to push you into ecstasy again. You fall back on the bed and grab the headboard.

“Oh God, oh God!” You moan loudly as you feel the edges of your second orgasm closing in. He slows his pace, teasing your clit with his tongue lightly. You throw your head back and yell. “No! Don't stop. Lick my clit, baby.”

He giggles into you and goes back to dragging his whole tongue across your sensitive bud and you cum again, a primal scream coming from you as your legs tremble and you see starbursts behind your eyelids. You've never cum more than once before, so you lay there for a bit in a drunken pleasure high, chest heaving and sweat sticking to your skin as he licks you through it. When he pulls back, panting, you grab him and kiss him hard, noticing where his erection strains against the fabric of his pajama pants. Then, to his surprise, you shake off the pajama shirt and roll onto your stomach.

“Fuck me like this.” You spread your legs for him and he strips his pajamas off quickly.

“That's how you want it, honey?”

“Yes.” He lines the tips of his cock up with your entrance from behind.

“You got it, doll.” You groan as he slides into you as slowly as he can, but still all in one smooth motion.

“Oh, fuck yes.” You moan loudly. This is your favorite position, but Carl never does it. “Pull my hair.”

“Yes ma'am.” He chuckles and takes a handful of the back of your hair, pulling it until he can see the side of your face. His cock slides in and out of you rhythmically as he leans forward and kisses your cheek and then your shoulder. You lift your hips a little to change the angle slightly and his dick hits right on your g-spot. Another orgasm gathers and you feel like you might die because it's so good.

“Oh fuck, honey.” The new angle is especially good for him too and he moans, knowing he's not gonna last much longer. “I'm gonna cum. Where do you want it?”

“Inside. Fill me up, baby.” Your third climax is threatening to overwhelm you and just as it does, he cums too. He doesn't even consider the consequences as the wave of pleasure crashes into him and he releases deep inside you. You bite the pillow and moan as your pussy squeezes his cock like a throbbing vice grip.

“Fuck… yes…” He groans through gritted teeth. You give a little satisfied noise with the feeling of him pulsing inside you, so subtle that you'd miss it if you didn't know to pay attention to it. Finally, you feel him slide out of you and whimper softly. He collapses beside you on his back and you scoot over to lay on his chest. As he strokes your hair and kisses your forehead, he hums quietly.

“I like being in charge.” You murmur. He smiles against your skin.

“I thought you might. You were feeling so powerless. Sometimes you just need a chance to be the boss.”

“Sounds like you're speaking from experience.” He chuckles.

“Yeah, I like to be in charge sometimes too. But it's also nice to take orders.”

And then it just slips out of you, lubricated by the champagne and three orgasms.

“Next time you can be in charge.” He looks down at you on his chest.

“Next time?” You pop your head up so that your chin is resting on your hand on his chest. As his eyes look so deeply into yours, you know you mean what you said.

“Yes. Next time. And after that we'll flip a coin or something.” He rolls over on top of you and, holding the side of your neck with his hand, kisses you as passionately as you've ever been kissed before. When he backs out of the kiss, he presses his forehead to yours again.

“Good, because I've got to make you cum a lot more than that to undo all those years with Carl.” You giggle shamelessly and snuggle into him and he holds you like he's never going to let you go. The champagne hits you both and your eyes get heavier and heavier until they finally close.

******

When you realize the sun is out, you sit straight up in bed and gasp.

“Fuck! Elvis, we fell asleep! I have to go!” He sits up groggily rubbing his eyes.

“What?”

“It is morning.” His eyes pop open and you look at each other in terror.

“Oh fuck.”

******

Uh oh...

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy

[winter510]

What are some of your favorite VAT7K headcanons??

I was actually planning on talking abt my headcanons eventually so thanks sm for asking this so I actually do it lmao‼️‼️

Here’s some I’ve just kinda adopted from general fandom stuff:

Genderfluid Hugo (He genuinely doesn’t really care too much how people refer to him, but when someone does call her by “she” or “they” they still perk up a little bit. (I’m not projecting you are))

Transmasc Varian

Lesbian Nuru (tbh I almost didn’t even add this cuz I forget this isn’t just straight up canon lmfao)

Hugo’s love language is being annoying

Hugo started calling Varian cliche cheesy petnames as a joke, but eventually just got used to it & now they’re stuck like that.

They all definitely went undercover at a ball (possibly masquerade ball?) at some point in the story

Yong starts arguments between the other 3 on purpose sometimes either bc he finds it funny how easy it is, or because he wants to sneak off and do smth he’s not supposed to and needs smth to distract them

And here’s some of my own:

After all the stuff with the eternal library is done, Yong & Nuru can go back to their kingdoms and fix their problems, but Varian & Hugo aren’t ready to say goodbye *just* yet. They leave the library to Donella while they all travel together again. They drop Yong off at the fire kingdom and after saying goodbye to Nuru at the air kingdom, they head back to Corona. I have a lot of ideas for things that happen inbetween those events, but I’m not gonna get into all of that lol.

When Nuru first joined the group, and I mean like *just* joined, first day, she thought Yong was really cute and endearing, and bordered on babying him. But after experiencing him being, well, Yong, about his pyrotechnics, she did start treating him like more of an equal (partially because she understood he wasn’t a baby and partially because she was a little scared of him after that lol)

Hugo definitely has “dated” lots of people, but still HEAVILY exaggerates the number to sound cool.

Hugo always falls asleep last/stays up the latest, but sometimes falls asleep at random parts of the day bc of that.

There’s an ATLA-esque episode where Hugo (either by accident or on purpose, you decide) involves Nuru in some sort of theft, and she starts freaking out. I think this could probably end in a change of perspective somehow, like maybe Nuru initially thinks *any* kind of stealing is wrong, but then sees that they genuinely *need* this item and there was no other way to get it, and comes to understand not *all* crimes are inherently bad/selfish on principle. Smth like that.

Then as a partner to the hc above, there’s also some kind of episode that does this but for Hugo seeing things from Nuru’s perspective. I’m not entirely sure what this would be yet, tho. Maybe the rest of the gang getting injured/sick and Hugo needs to take care of & be responsible for them?? Still gotta think abt it.

There’s probably more but I started writing this almost right after I got up & I’ve been writing for like an hour(???) at this point (I had to re-format this like 5 times)

[asparklethatisblue]

So because watching soap opera with my nan ruined my brain:

Soap opera kid fic plot with time travel JayVik.

Jayce gets sent back to a time before the HexGates are built, he finds Viktor alone and manages to convince him to stop, they make a plan on how to keep HexTech safe as well. Of course he also focus on a way to make sure Viktor’s health doesn’t deteriorate. Figuring that if they pivot to medicine and actual HELP even without funding, that world’s Jayce and Viktor can be happy.

While they plan how to go about this, Jayce, who is desperate for human affection, ends up confessing his love and that every version of him loves Viktor in every universe. They fall into bed because Viktor is already in love with his Jayce anyway, and this man is also just simply Jayce. Maybe not his Jayce, but Jayce who is older and looks at his with open adoration and whispers how much he loves him when Viktor kisses him. Can you blame him? Eventually Viktor has a battle-plan on where to take the research without overusing magic, on how to convince everyone who matters… Jayce gets pulled back into the Arcane eventually, back to where he is needed, leaving Viktor quietly pining but confident that he’ll eventually get his nerve up to confess his love to his actual timeline’s Jayce. That or indicate that he wants to be wooed.

Viktor and his own Jayce focus on their new projects, even though this Jayce doesn’t know what prompted the change of heart. It doesn’t matter, he loves Viktor, he is shocked to hear of his health prognosis and throws his entire energy into researching ways to heal the condition caused by the Grey. He’s in love, he doesn’t care if they get the Council’s full approval or if his research doesn’t make something as flashy as the HexGates. If Viktor is insisting on this new change of course, then he trusts him. He also appreciates the weird flirty mood between them suddenly, the way he’s certain Viktor likes him and maybe his own crush could go somewhere…

So when Viktor one day shows up all frantic and jittery, confessing that he is pregnant but saying nothing about who the father is? Begging for… anything. Help? Jayce is shaken and heartbroken, but no way will he abandon the man he loves, even if he doesn’t love him back. Even if he is pregnant by someone else, someone he clearly misses. He can tell something is wrong, that Viktor is unusually lost. He promises to lie and claim the child as his own, if Viktor needs him to, provide for it, for Viktor. Anything.

If the father isn’t in the picture (through neglect or tragedy) then Jayce will step up! He loves Viktor too much to be selfish, even if it makes him feel sick that his love is unrequited.

Viktor meanwhile is screaming internally because he doesn’t know how to explain to Jayce, who he never even kissed, that it’s HIS child. Here he is, having quietly sighed and pined for Jayce for weeks, that sad broken version of Jayce, wondering how to go about getting together with his Jayce. How does he even start? “Hello Jayce, as you can see I am knocked up. Believe it or not it’s yours, yes I know we have never even been naked in the same room, trust me. I just happened to meet a time travelling version of you who fucked me. Don’t think about it too hard.”. They have nothing even approaching that sort of technology (yet). Jayce probably would think it’s a cruel joke.

So now Jayce is heartbroken and Viktor is watching Jayce be brave and selfless about it and acting so damn polite about everything

Idk I already wrote one kid fic, you people do with this what you want

[kathlare]

a moment of clarity

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando sits down for a therapy session in Monte Carlo, grappling with unresolved feelings about his past and the choices that continue to affect him.

Wordcount: 1.7 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

October 14th, 2023 - Monte Carlo, Monaco

Lando Norris sat in the familiar leather armchair across from his therapist, Dr. Moreau, in the softly lit office overlooking the Monte Carlo marina. Therapy wasn’t something he talked about often, and he wasn’t sure he ever would. But this room had become a safe haven—a place where the noise of the world faded away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Today, those thoughts were particularly loud.

Dr. Moreau sat with her usual calm demeanor, a notebook balanced on her lap. She always gave him space to speak when he was ready, and Lando appreciated that. For a moment, he simply stared at the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the sunlight dance on the water.

—So, Lando,— she began gently, breaking the silence. —What’s on your mind today?—

Lando sighed, leaning back in the chair and running a hand through his hair. —Amelie,— he admitted, the word coming out heavier than he expected.

Dr. Moreau nodded slightly, her expression neutral but attentive. —You’ve mentioned her before. Tell me what’s been coming up for you.—

He hesitated, trying to find the right words. Talking about Amelie always felt like walking a tightrope between nostalgia and regret. —I can’t stop thinking about her lately. It’s like... she’s in my head all the time, and I don’t know why now, of all times. I mean, we haven’t even talked since Bahrain, and that was...— He trailed off, counting back. —Six months ago? And it wasn’t exactly a friendly chat.—

Dr. Moreau tilted her head slightly. —What happened in Bahrain?—

Lando let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. —It was a mess. I tried to talk to her, and it just... blew up in my face. She told me she was disappointed in me, that I didn’t fight for us back then. She said she loved me.— His voice faltered at the memory, and he looked away, biting the inside of his cheek. —I didn’t know what to say. It caught me so off guard, and I guess... I didn’t handle it well.—

—What do you mean by 'didn’t handle it well'?—

He sighed, his knee bouncing restlessly. —I got defensive. Told her she was the one who ignored me, who pushed me away. I was so angry, at her, at myself, because deep down, I knew she was right. I didn’t fight for her. I just... let her go. And now, I can’t stop thinking about what could’ve been if I had been better back then.—

Dr. Moreau nodded thoughtfully, giving him a moment before speaking. —It sounds like there’s a lot of unresolved feelings there. Have you thought about why Amelie’s been on your mind so much recently?—

Lando leaned forward, elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands together. —Maybe it’s because I found out she and Rodrigo broke up. I didn’t even know until a few months ago. It’s not like I was happy about it... well, okay, part of me was, but not in a shitty way. I just... it made me realize I still care about her. A lot. And then I started wondering if I should try again, you know? If it’s even worth trying to fix things after everything.—

Dr. Moreau’s gaze softened. —Why do you think it might not be worth it?—

He let out a frustrated sigh. —Because I messed it up so badly the first time. Because I’ve been a coward, hiding behind distractions like... well, you know. Magui, parties, anything to avoid feeling like shit about how things ended with Amelie. She deserves better than that. Better than me, probably.—

Dr. Moreau leaned forward slightly, her tone steady but firm. —You’ve said that about yourself before, that Amelie deserves better than you. Why do you believe that?—

Lando paused, staring at the floor. —Because I’m selfish. Back then, I was so caught up in my career, my schedule, my own insecurities. I let her slip away because it was easier than dealing with how hard it was to be apart all the time. And now, even though I’ve grown up a bit, I still wonder if I’m capable of giving her what she needs.—

Dr. Moreau was quiet for a moment, letting his words hang in the air. —It sounds like you’ve done a lot of reflecting, Lando. You’re acknowledging where you fell short, and that’s an important step. But what I’m hearing is a lot of guilt—and guilt alone isn’t a reason to stay away from someone. What do you feel when you think about Amelie now?—

He looked up, his throat tightening as he considered the question. —I feel... like I miss her. Not just because she’s beautiful or funny or because we had great chemistry. I miss her as a person. The way she gets me to open up without even trying, the way she makes me feel grounded even when everything else is chaotic. She’s always been... different. Special.—

—Do you want her back in your life?—

Lando’s chest tightened at the question. It was so simple, yet it felt like it carried the weight of every moment they’d shared and every mistake he’d made. He leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling for a long moment before finally answering.

—Yeah. I do. I want her back in my life. But not just as some fling or... I don’t know, something half-hearted. If I’m going to do this, I want to do it properly. I want to show her I’ve changed, that I can actually deserve a second chance with her.—

Dr. Moreau nodded, her expression kind but thoughtful. —That’s a big realization, Lando. It sounds like you’re recognizing not just what you want, but the kind of effort and commitment it will take to make it happen. Do you feel ready to take that step?—

He hesitated, his hands clasped tightly together. —That’s the thing, isn’t it? I don’t know if I’m ready. I don’t even know if she’d want to hear from me. After Bahrain... she made it pretty clear she didn’t want me in her life anymore. And honestly, I don’t blame her.—

—What makes you think she wouldn’t want to hear from you now?— Dr. Moreau asked gently.

—Because I hurt her. I let her down when it mattered most, and even if I’m ready to make things right, that doesn’t erase the damage I did back then. She’s moved on. What if she’s better off without me?—

Dr. Moreau gave him a moment to process his own words before responding. —It’s possible that Amelie has moved on, or that she’s in a place where she doesn’t want to revisit the past. But that’s not something you can control, Lando. What you can control is how honest you are with her, and with yourself. If you truly want a second chance, it starts with being vulnerable enough to tell her how you feel, regardless of the outcome.—

Lando rubbed his face, the weight of her words settling over him. —It’s just... terrifying. What if I put myself out there and it doesn’t mean anything to her? What if I ruin whatever’s left of what we had?—

—Or,— Dr. Moreau said softly, —what if it does mean something to her? What if this is the first step toward rebuilding the connection you’ve both been missing? You won’t know unless you try, Lando. And from everything you’ve told me, it sounds like Amelie was someone who valued honesty and effort. If nothing else, being open with her might bring you the closure, or the new beginning, you’re looking for.—

He nodded slowly, the words sinking in. Deep down, he knew she was right. If he didn’t take the chance, he’d always wonder what could’ve been. And maybe he had changed enough to deserve that chance, to show Amelie that he wasn’t the same person who let her slip away.

—Okay,— he said finally, his voice steadier than he felt. —I’ll do it. I don’t know how or when, but I’ll reach out to her. I owe her that much, at least.—

Dr. Moreau smiled gently. —That’s a brave decision, Lando. It won’t be easy, but taking responsibility for your actions and being honest about your feelings is a big step forward. And remember, this isn’t about proving yourself to her, it’s about showing up as the person you want to be, for her and for yourself.—

Lando nodded again, a small flicker of determination starting to replace the uncertainty. —I just... I want to make it right. Whatever that looks like. I don’t want to screw this up again.—

—And that mindset is exactly why you’re ready to try again. You’re not the same person you were back then, Lando. Give yourself credit for that.—

For the first time in what felt like months, Lando allowed himself a sliver of hope. He left the session feeling lighter, his mind clearer. As he walked out of the office and into the bright Monaco sun, he pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he landed on her name.

Amelie.

He didn’t call or text her—at least not yet. But for the first time, he felt ready to take the first step. Whatever happened next, he knew he couldn’t keep hiding from the truth.

It was time to fight for her, the way he should have from the beginning.

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

liked by ln4nation, papayagirl, and others

ln4updates: Lando was spotted in Monaco today

View all 217 comments

lovenorris07: WE GET A WHOLE MONTH WITHOUT MAGUI??? Lando, please keep it up 😭💖 → lanfan_42: @lovenorris07 right?! A month of peace, LET'S GO 🔥🔥

imlovedwithlan: BRO, WHY DOES HE LOOK SO CUTE JUST WALKING AROUND MONACO? 😩

lano_baby: He’s literally so cute, I’m crying like why do I feel like his ex right now 💀😭 → norrisfanatic: @lano_baby YOU'RE NOT ALONE, I feel the pain too 😔💔

stella_vibes: Wait... Lando out here looking THIS good while Amelie is playing hard to get?? 😩 COME ON, Ames, give him a chance already!! 😭 → racebabe69: @stella_vibes They need to get back to their vibe! Pls the friendship, the FLIRTING, I miss it 😭😭

cutie_lando: Sooo Amelie and Lando are both single now?? Things just got interesting 😏 → f1_feverrr: @cutie_lando right?! It's like the universe is telling them to get it together already!!

sophiemay_27: Wait, is this the longest we’ve gone without Magui?? 👀

[rispwr]

Late night call - J.JK - mini

Sypnosis : accidentally waking up your boyfriend by calling him after you had just finished studying.

Genre : fluff fluff

Contents : sleepy jungkook, vlive jk, calling, nd that’s it.

Notes : it’s like idk 9 pm here and i just wrote this cuz i thought it was cute.

It was late at night, and you had just finished studying for your exams, which were in… six hours. The realization hit you as you glanced at the clock on your desk.

You had been staring at books and notes for so long that your brain felt like it was swimming. Still, the thought of going to bed didn’t sit right with you. You were too wired, too anxious about tomorrow to even consider sleeping.

Without thinking, you grabbed your phone. And before you could stop yourself, you found yourself calling him—Jungkook.

It rang a few times, and you hesitated. Maybe this was a bad idea. He’s probably asleep by now… Of course he’s asleep. It’s past midnight! You were just about to hang up when the screen lit up with his face.

“Yeeees…?” His voice was low and raspy, his messy hair falling into his half-lidded eyes. He looked like he’d just woken up—and, judging by his tone, you’d definitely interrupted his sleep.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! You were asleep,” you blurted out, guilt already bubbling to the surface.

But Jungkook just gave you a sleepy smile, his lips curling softly as he stared at the screen. “It’s alright. It’s you,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.

Your heart fluttered. Of course, he’d say something like that. “Kookie, go back to sleep,” you said quickly, though you couldn’t help but feel a little selfish for wanting to keep him on the phone. “I’m so sorry for waking you up.”

He shook his head lazily, his messy hair shifting as he adjusted the pillow behind him. “What were you doing, anyway?” he asked, his curiosity seeping through even in his half-asleep state. “Why are you still up?”

You fidgeted with the corner of your blanket, feeling a little sheepish. “Oh—yeah. I just finished studying,” you said, your voice brightening.

Jungkook smiled again, his eyes softening as he listened. “That’s so good to hear, baby,” he said, his tone warm and encouraging. “I’m confident you’ll pass tomorrow.”

His words were simple, but they were enough to make you feel a little less anxious. “Thank you so much,” you said softly, your voice quieter now. You pouted slightly at the camera, feeling a pang of longing as you stared at his familiar face. “I miss you.”

He tilted his head slightly, his expression becoming even softer. “I miss you too, baby,” he said, his tone just as tender. Then, he sat up a little straighter, his voice growing more awake. “I could come there if you want?”

Your eyes widened at his offer, and you quickly shook your head. “No, no, it’s late. I don’t want you driving with no sleep,” you said firmly.

Jungkook just laughed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Baby, I’m awake. I’ve been asleep since…” He paused, his lips pursing slightly as he thought. “Uh, seven p.m., I think?”

“You slept early today?” you asked, surprised.

“Yeah, I was tired from practice,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

You smiled at him, your heart swelling with affection. “Are you sure?” you asked again, your voice tinged with excitement this time.

He grinned, fully awake now, and grabbed his keys from his nightstand. “Boyfriend at your service!” he declared, throwing on his hoodie and getting up from the bed.

[courtesons]

Perhaps Owen wasn't quite the hero perhaps he seemed, because he couldn't deny that seeing this hunk of a man looking at him like that was...well, it was appealing to him. The way he seemed to react to his touch or his words, the fact he seemed so ready to take Owen's words and agree to not even come here again - he could see why men like that waste of space would prey upon him, the genuine and the sensitive often were. But Owen would make sure that he kept an eye on this one, even if his reasons were a little selfish.

"It doesn't matter why he did it, he did it - end of. He doesn't get a chance to do it again" He instructed clearly, wanting to cut away at that bad habit of trying to find an excuse or soften the blow of poor behaviour like that. "Zane Prescott" He repeated out loud, smile growing a little more and stepping a little closer, hand once more brushing against his chin. "Good boy" He murmured, both at the promise he made out of places like this and also...well, because he wanted to see Zane's reaction to him calling him that.

"Maybe I'll see you around my neck of the woods sometime" He'd remark and brush past the man, not before running his thumb against that jawline once more. Perhaps Owen would show up to overview the club in person this week, so Zane might see the sight of him in the VIP balcony over the dance floor. He'd make sure that the name was on the list and that he wasn't paying for drinks that night either, courtesy of Owen Matthews. He was curious how or what Zane would do with such...special treatment.

Zane swallowed hard, his breath catching as Owen’s large hand gently encased his wrist. The contrast between the earlier roughness he’d endured and the measured care Owen showed now was startling. His eyes darted to the faint bruises forming under Owen’s touch, then back to the man’s face. There was something about the way Owen looked at him—steady, sharp, and unyielding—that made Zane feel simultaneously exposed and protected. His voice wavered as he answered, "Y-Yeah. I met him here... a few months ago." He hesitated, glancing down as if ashamed to admit it. "It wasn’t like this before. He usually doesn’t push me past... what I can handle. I don’t know why he tried tonight."

Zane’s fingers fidgeted at his side, his nerves fraying under the weight of the situation. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, embarrassed by his vulnerability but unable to suppress it. When Owen brushed his thumb over the bruises, Zane’s lips parted slightly, the unexpected tenderness making his chest tighten. He nodded mutely as Owen spoke, the authority in his voice leaving no room for argument. "I—yeah, I’ll stay away. I didn’t realize... how dangerous it could be." He bit his lip, hating the way his words made him sound naive but knowing they were true.

When Owen handed him the card, Zane’s fingers trembled as he took it, his eyes scanning the name and address printed on it. Mirage. The offer to be on the VIP list felt surreal, and he nodded quickly, eager to show his gratitude. "Thank you... really. I don’t—" He faltered, unsure how to express the mix of relief and gratitude flooding through him. Finally, he managed, "I’ll go. It... sounds safe. Better. And I’ll stay out of places like this. I promise." His voice was soft but earnest, his desire to please evident in every word, even as his mind whirled with the implications of Owen’s smirk and the reassurance that no one would touch him without his consent again. It took him a few minutes to realize he had still never given his name. "Zane. Zane Prescott."

[homemadebabka]

also btw there’s just something about luffy that i cannot explain. wanted to make a post about what sets him apart from other “will never give up ever under any circumstance” protagonists but i just like. couldn’t. i don’t know what it is about him but ive never loved a character like him it’s probably just magic or something

[bunnieswithknives]

(nature au) you said that while dale dislikes dev using a cane in the house he doesn’t really care too much, but what if dev used a cane in public? i can’t imagine dale would be okay with that at all. he’d be pissed, like confiscate the cane kind of pissed

Originally the gag here was just going to be Dev clinging onto his dads arm for dear life while he shivers like a chihuahua but he is just. So small.. I couldnt get it to look reasonable

Bonus:

[tricksterringmaster]

me and you now, little one.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Maybe Lucifer was being selfish, but he just wanted to be the one to help Adam through his pregnancy and dote on him the whole time. The thought of Sera being there for nine whole months was going to grate on his nerves.

Adam: I almost don't want to leave.

Lucifer: I know, but maybe once the baby is here and we establish a routine we can have Sera babysit and we can come back.

Adam: That would be nice.

They packed everything up and went home to the manor where Sera was waiting for them.

Sera: Starlight!

Adam: Mama!

They hugged and she fussed over him making sure that he was okay that he was hydrated and well fed.

Lucifer tried not to roll his eyes, this was going to be a long next few months.

(Mama Bear Sera AU)

Sera was making breakfast, chocolate chip pancakes. She was also setting up eggs, bacon, and fruit. Only the best for her babies. Speaking of her babies she needed to go and wake them up. The first bed room was like room of a princess with pink and lavender. There were lots of fluffy stuffed animals and pictures of lovely landscapes of Heaven. Laying in the bed with a canopy was Emily who was very much an adult.

Sera: Wake up Princess, breakfast is ready.

Emily woke up and smiled.

Emily: Thank you mama.

Sera smiled and went to the next room. This one was a room in dark blue and gold with rock band posters all over the walls. There was an impressive guitar collection, a TV with the latest video game systems. Sera picked up the helmet with horns and a mask so she could put it somewhere safe. Sprawled on the bed was Adam who was holding a lion plushie that was half his size and he was also an adult.

Sera: Wake up Starlight, breakfast is ready.

Adam woke up and yawned, but he also smiled when he saw Sera.

Adam: Bad ass mama.

Sera didn’t usually like cursing, but she such a soft spot for Adam that she let it slide. Unlike Emily who was wearing cutesy nightgown that went down to her ankles, Adam was wearing boxer shorts and slept a shirtless so you could see his nipple piercings just like you could see his tongue piercing when he yawned. Adam picked up a shirt of his favorite rock band and put it on. Adam followed Sera to the dining room, Adam hugged Emily before taking his seat.

Adam: Morning Emmy.

Emily: Good morning Addie.

Sera kissed them on the forehead before she placed a plate with their breakfast in front of them. There was also sippy cups filled with chocolate milk. It didn’t matter if Emily and Adam tried to say that they could handle regular glasses of chocolate milk, to Sera they were her babies.

Adam sighed as he saw the sippy cups, Sera's heart was in the right place but some things she did was embarrassing. He drew the line at letting her feed him, he was a grown ass man, THE man.

Adam: This looks delicious.

Sera: I hope you like it.

Adam sat down and dug into the food, Sera was very good at cooking his food the way he liked it.

Emily: Do you have anything going on today Adam?

His mind went to a special meeting that he had set up but he couldn't let them know about. Especially Sera, she would freak the fuck out.

Adam: Oh you know, Lute wanted to check out this place over in the tropical side.

Sera: That sounds fun.

Adam: It will be, did you want me to bring you something back?

Sera: Sure if you want to.

He nodded, he would have to text Lute and get her to go over there and grab something small to cover it up.

When he was done Adam quickly got dressed, hugged Sera goodbye and flew off.

Adam was headed down to Hell for the afternoon, he had a date with the devil after all.