#nothing I will do it my way or I will ask someone else | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

croissantsandblackcoffee · 2 days ago

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luigi mangione ⊹ rumination

— he was literally glowing !!!!!! i’m so happy for him. also, i hope they dress him up in winter clothing more often. every single pic of him before he got caught is wearing sleeveless shirts, shorts and flip flops, and the occasional suit. link to the masterlist ;)

riker’s island. thursday, 5:00 PM

you’re feeling really nervous as you walk through the security checks, heading inside the facility to wait. you’ve tried your best to hide the symptoms, but you’ve been feeling a bit of nausea off and on, as well as a bit bloated. nothing too noticeable as of yet.

you take a seat at one of the empty seats, waiting for the guards to bring luigi out. your fingers play with the cord of the telephone, a habit out of nervousness.

as you sit there, waiting, you can’t help but get lost in your thoughts. all sorts of possible conversation starters are going through your head, but none of them seem good enough. how do you even tell someone you’re carrying their child?

eventually, you’re broken out of your thoughts by footsteps, and you look up to see luigi. he seems happy to see you right now, his gaze sweeping over you in that usual fashion he does; a mixture of curiosity and… something else.

“hey, sweetheart,“ he starts as he takes a seat opposite you, putting the phone to his ear. he doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re fidgeting in your seat, or the way you seem a bit more stressed than usual. “how’ve you been?”

“i’ve been alright,” you say, nodding. you try to control your expression, but you’re sure some of your stress is showing. despite everything though, seeing luigi again feels… nice. “how about you?”

he lets out a huff, and he sounds a little annoyed as he speaks.

“bored out of my mind. i mean, seriously — how do these guys expect people to stay sane when there’s nothing to do all day? it’s torture. i swear the only thing keeping me going is these visits with you.”

“oh, yeah?” you raise an eyebrow at that, managing to break past your worries for a moment and feel a bit smug. “so you look forward to my visits? that much?”

“what? of course i do,” he answers immediately, sounding a little incredulous that you’d even ask that. “i mean, sure, the guards are rude and the food sucks, but i… i look forward to seeing you, sweetheart. you’re the best part of my day.”

a small part of you wants to feel smug about it — that luigi finds so much enjoyment from seeing you, that it’s the highlight of his day. but the rest of you just feels guilty. because right now, you know there’s something you need to confess to him. but how the hell do you even bring it up?

eventually, after a small moment of silence, you take a deep breath and decide to hell with subtlety. this is luigi. he’s a mature adult who can handle tough conversations.

“luigi, i… i need to tell you something.”

he notices the change in your tone right away, hearing the more serious edge to your voice. a line appears in his brow, but it’s not a scowl. he looks more confused than anything.

“alright… what is it?” he tilts his head slightly. “you can tell me whatever’s on your mind, baby, you know that.”

“yeah, i know,” you nod, letting out a small sigh and shaking your head. “i just… it’s…”

you stop, taking another deep breath and preparing yourself for what you’re about to say. how the hell do you even bring this conversation up?

“just… don’t interrupt, okay? just let me talk for a minute.”

he looks more confused now, an eyebrow raised in curiosity, but he nods.

“alright,” he says. “i’m listening. go ahead.”

it takes a few more moments before you finally gather up the nerve to start talking. you take a deep breath, trying to arrange your thoughts properly.

“okay,” you begin, looking at him. “do you… do you remember that last time we were together? the conjugal visit a few weeks ago?”

he nods, his eyebrows pulled together. he seems to have an idea of where this conversation is going.

“of course i do. what about it?”

“right. right.” you nod, running a hand through your hair nervously. “well… i… i think something might have… happened, during that time. something that i only discovered a few days ago. and it’s kinda…”

you trail off, taking another deep breath. God, how the hell do you say this?

“it’s kinda what, sweetheart?” he asks quietly, his gaze fixed on you. he looks a little bit worried now, sensing that this is something big.

“well…” you struggle for another few moments, your hand basically gripping the telephone cord. you take another deep breath, steeling yourself as best as you can. “i… i think I’m pregnant.”

there. you said it.

there’s a few seconds of silence between the two of you, and it’s so thick you swear it could be cut with a knife. luigi has just been dropped a massive bomb, and he’s taking a few moments to process it.

right now, you can’t even tell what he’s thinking. his face is completely impossible to read.

eventually, he sighs.

“christ…” he mutters under his breath, before looking back up at you. there’s a mix of emotions in his expression — disbelief, shock, more disbelief, etc. “are… are you sure?” he asks. “like, 100% certain?”

“i’m sure. i took two tests, and both of them came up positive. and i’ve… i’ve had some other symptoms as well. so… yeah. i’m positive. i’m pregnant, luigi.”

his eyes are fixated on you, his mind racing as he processes this big ball of information that’s just been thrown at him. he looks a little less shocked, and now he seems to be moving towards acceptance.

“jesus… well, shit,” he mutters under his breath. he runs a hand over his face, thinking. “and, uh… it’s… it’s definitely mine, right? no doubts about that?”

you nod, your fingers still fiddling with the cord as you speak.

“yeah. yeah, it’s yours. i’ve had no one else but you, luigi. and we didn’t exactly consider using any protection during our visit, so…”

he lets out a huff at that, shaking his head. he doesn’t seem mad, just… worried.

“yeah, i suppose we didn’t… damn.” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “so… what are you gonna do? about the pregnancy, i mean.”

you shrug, chewing on your lip a bit. you’re not completely certain yourself, right now.

“i… i don’t know yet,” you admit. “i mean, it all just happened pretty damn recently, so i haven’t had time to really think about it yet. but… I guess i just wanted to know… what you thought about it. it is your kid too, after all.”

he nods, biting his own lip as his gaze drifts down to the tabletop.

“right… i mean, of course it has something to do with me as well… right, so…” he sighs, and glances back up at you. “are you sure you want to keep the baby, sweetheart? i mean, a baby is a pretty huge deal. it changes a lot of things.”

he pauses before continuing, “listen, it’s a big deal. and it’s gonna affect you way more than it’ll affect me. i mean, i’m the one who was able to just walk away after our little… visit. you’re the one who’s been left with the after-effects. i just… i just don’t want you to feel like you have to keep the kid just because it’s mine. it’s your body at the end of the day, so if you don’t want to carry, then you don’t have to.”

you bite your lip, knowing that that probably the reasonable conclusion to come to. but honestly, you don’t have the first clue what you actually want to do right now. this whole situation has got your head all over the place, and you’re not entirely sure how you feel about it.

“i don’t know, luigi, i…” you pause, taking a deep breath. “i don’t know if i want to keep it or not. i have no idea what i want to do right now. i just… i don’t know.”

luigi watches you, and his expression visibly softens as his shoulders relax a bit. he can tell that you’re overwhelmed, and honestly, he doesn’t entirely blame you for being so.

“hey," he starts, his voice quiet. "it’s alright, sweetheart, it’s alright. you don’t have to decide anything right now, alright? just… just take some time, think it over. no rush.”

he pressed his hand against the glass, as if taking your hand in his and squeezing it reassuringly. if only he would able to do so.

“i just want you to know that… whatever you end up choosing to do, i’m gonna support it. whether you want to keep or not, i’m gonna be there for you. you’re not by yourself in this. i’m not gonna let you deal with this all on your own, you hear me?”

it’s a comforting thought, knowing that luigi is going to support you no matter your decision. you’ve worried that perhaps he’d feel upset that this has happened, or that he’d somehow blame you for this happening. but no, he seems focused on making sure you’re supported through this.

you let out a breath, and nod, managing a weak smile. you press your own hand against the glass, wishing that you could feel his touch on your skin.

he mirrors you with a weak smile of his own. he watches the hand that’s pressed against the glass, as if imagining that he’s holding your own. despite the thick glass and the guards, luigi wishes that he could just take your face in his hands, and press a soft kiss to your forehead.

instead, he just has to settle for watching you.

you feel almost lonely just sitting there. it’s such a simple thing, but seeing luigi sitting on the other side of that thick glass, not even able to hold your hand, it makes your heart ache a little bit.

you’re not usually needy, you don’t usually desperately crave another person’s touch like this, but right now, you wish more than anything that you could just be in luigi’s arms.

he wishes more than anything in the world that he’d be able to just have you in his lap right now, to hold you close and have his arms wrapped securely around you.

he doesn’t even want anything more from you. no, right now his mind isn’t focused on anything sexual. he just wants to comfort you, hold you, and reassure you.

he wants to show you how much he cares about you. he wants to be able to hold you in his lap, and bury his face against your hair while he whispers soothing words into your ear. he wants to be able to run his fingers through your hair, and press kisses to your lips until that worried expression is gone.

right now, he wants to be able to be your comfort, the way that you’ve been his.

unfortunately, the glass that separates you prevents him from doing any of that. but he can’t not do something. no, he can’t just sit by, and simply watch you.

despite not being able to hold you in his lap, he does the next best thing, and starts talking with a soothing voice.

“hey,” he says quietly, his voice low. “it’s okay, sweetheart. everything’s gonna be alright, you hear me?”

his tone is gentle, and soft. the complete opposite to how he sounds when he’s teasing you. no, his teasing voice is cocky and smug.

this voice is just soothing, a quiet whisper that’s designed to comfort you.

“i mean it, alright? you’re not alone in this. i’m not leave just abandon you, or something. if you keep it, i’ll be there. if you don’t, i’ll still be there. i’m gonna be right by your side. you got it?”

he watches you, his eyes flickering over your face as he waits for your reaction to his words. he’s hoping that what he has said will have some sort of soothing effect on you, that at the very least it’ll help a little bit.

“i’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he says again, his voice still quiet. “you’re stuck with me. no matter what you choose.”

in spite of the difficult situation, a warm feeling starts to spread inside you. luigi’s soothing words are working — they’re helping to comfort you. the fact that he remains so unwaveringly supportive, and has even promised to be there for you, regardless of what choice you make, has a calming effect on you. not a massive effect, but enough to take some of the stress away.

luigi can tell that it’s working. it’s subtle, but in the slight change of your face, your body language, he can see the effect that his soothing words are having.

he can see that you’re a little bit more relaxed than you were at the beginning of the conversation — and that makes him slightly more relaxed.

“you know,” he starts gently, “you’re surprisingly calm for someone who just told their boyfriend that they’re pregnant.”

he says it jokingly, his tone still just as soft and gentle. however now there’s a slight hint of amusement in his expression. the fact that you’re relatively calm about the whole situation is a bit surprising to him.

the words have an effect though, as you give a small shrug, and let out a soft snort.

“do you want me to start panicking or something?” you ask, one eyebrow raised.

luigi lets out a huff, shaking his head.

“well, no, of course not. it’s just that, well… i mean, not that i think it’s bad, but i expected you to be at least a bit more stressed than you are right now.”

he tilts his head slightly, a hint of curiosity in his expression.

“i don’t know, sweetheart, you’re handling this surprisingly well.”

you shrug again, not really having an answer for that. honestly, you can’t even really explain it yourself.

“i mean, it’s not like panicking is going to help anything,” you say, letting out a soft huff. “and like i said, i’m not exactly sure what i even want to do yet, so why freak out over nothing?”

he stares at you for a moment, a slight smile on his face as he takes in your words. he’s actually a little bit impressed with your calmness right now. despite not having any idea what you actually want to do, you’re not losing your head completely.

there’s a hint of appreciation in his expression.

“you’re amazing, you know that?”

he says it more to himself than to you, shaking his head slightly and running a hand through his hair.

“i mean, seriously, you tell me that you’re pregnant, and what do you do? you stay perfectly calm and level-headed. and, i mean, it’s not like i was expecting you to freak out or anything, but i have a feeling that most women would not be as composed as you are right now.”

you give a small huff at that, a light smile appearing on your face. despite everything, that praise from him makes you feel a bit warm inside.

“i don’t know about ‘amazing’,” you say quietly, fiddling with the phone cord. “more like ‘not completely insane’.”

“hey, it’s amazing to me.”

he leans forward slightly, his expression softening. he watches you fiddle with the cord of the phone, wishing more than anything that he could be there with you right now.

“trust me, sweetheart, right now i think you’re amazing. the way you’re taking all this so calmly? it’s pretty damn impressive, if you ask me.”

you give a small scoff, rolling your eyes a bit, but you can feel a hint of colour rising to your cheeks. despite your best efforts, his compliments get you flustered.

“alright, stop it… you’re gonna make me embarrass myself,” you mutter, shifting a bit in your seat.

that subtle hint of colour in your cheeks isn’t subtle to him. luigi notices it immediately, and a smug grin appears on his face. you always get so adorably flustered when he compliments you.

“oh, is that so?” he murmurs, enjoying the way you’ve shifted awkwardly in your seat. he can see how flustered you’ve become just by a couple of innocent compliments.

seeing you like this, blushing and shy, makes him want to just take your face in his hands and kiss you senseless.

however, of course, that’s not possible at the moment. because there is a thick sheet of glass in the way, and he’s a threat to the public, apparently. it’s frustrating as hell, to be so close to you, and yet still be unable to actually reach you. unable to grab you, hold you, touch you.

instead, he simply lets out a huff, and continues to watch the way you look. he can see how your hands are fiddling with the phone cord, how your cheeks are flushed a little bit. how you’re shifting a bit in your seat, as if uncomfortable by how flustered he’s making you.

“would it be… selfish for me to keep it?” you ask, almost out the blue.

you asked the question to the air, seemingly more to yourself than anything. but luigi responds anyway.

“no. definitely not selfish.”

he shakes his head, his expression firm. he doesn’t want you to have any doubts, not even for a second.

“what makes you think it would be selfish?”

you give a soft exhale. luigi’s reassurance helps, a little bit at least. however, the fact that your mind immediately went from ��should i keep it?’ to ‘is it selfish to keep it?’ is a worrying sign.

“i mean, what if they never let out you? i’d want to have something of yours, as weird as that sounds.”

you pause, biting your lip.

“but then i’d make you feel obligated to be a dad.”

it takes a moment for the full weight of your words to settle in, and when they do, luigi visibly stiffens in his seat.

that thought hadn’t occurred to him at all. but you’re right, it is definitely something that needs to be taken into consideration.

the possibility of him being released, and getting out, is next to none. and he might never get to be a dad, not properly anyway. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.

but he swallows it nonetheless, his shoulders tensing slightly. he knows that you’re just saying that you want something of his; but the idea that you might keep the baby just for that reason alone hurts.

he can’t give you a proper life. he can’t give you the family that you deserve. he can’t give you or the child that you might possibly have the life that you want. even if he was released someday, he’d be labeled as a threat, and it would always hang over his head.

he swallows again, watching you through the glass. he can see the way your eyes won’t quite meet his, the way that your fingers are still fiddling with the phone cord. You look almost embarrassed, in the way that your cheeks are slightly flushed.

“sweetheart,” he starts quietly, his voice low. “please look at me. can you give me that much, at least?”

you hesitate for a brief second, before meeting his gaze through the glass. it’s surprisingly intimidating, having him looking at you like that. the expression in his eyes is a mixture of softness and firmness — and you’re suddenly reminded just how intense his gaze can be, when it’s focused on you.

although it isn’t at all intentional, there’s a hint of authority in it. a reminder of the fact that he is dominant; and right now, he wants to talk with you, and he’s not about to let you shy away from him.

you feel your face getting a little bit hotter when you finally return his gaze, and you can feel your heart rate picking up just a little bit. there’s something about the way that luigi is looking at you that’s almost a little bit intimidating.

the softness in his gaze, paired with the firmness. the slight command to it, as if telling you to look at him. it makes you feel almost a little bit flustered, a shiver running down your spine.

for some reason, you feel like he’s dominating you right now, even from behind the glass.

“don’t keep it just for that reason.”

he practically demands it. he can see that you’re getting flustered just by him looking at you like this, but he doesn’t care.

the thought of you having the baby for that reason alone makes his heart hurt. it’s a reminder that there’s a very decent possibility that he’ll never get to be an actual father. he’ll never get to hold his child in his arms, take his child to school, watch as they grow and go through life.

it sucks. knowing that if you keep the baby, you’ll probably be a single mother.

luigi knows that he’ll never get to see his child. he can barely even see you — and chances are high that any visits you’d make to him while you’re pregnant would stop as soon as the baby is born.

he won’t ever get to see them growing up, get to watch their milestones — their first steps, their first words, their first day of school. he won’t be there for any of it.

“please.”

he repeats himself, the firmness in his gaze hardening just a little. he needs you to understand.

“don’t keep it just for that reason, okay?”

the thought has lodged itself in his mind now, and there’s almost a pleading tone in his voice. he’s practically begging you not to make your decision just to have something of his.

to have something of his. he knows that you didn’t mean it badly, that the intention behind the words wasn’t negative. but the words still hurt.

like a knife, going straight into his heart. the thought that you might keep the baby just to have part of him — not because you want to have a baby, that you want to be a mother.

the fact that you’re willing to make that sacrifice for him, makes him feel both touched and sick at the same time.

he hates it. he hates that the thought even crossed your mind. that you would possibly keep it just to have a part of him.

it’s touching that you care enough that you would do that, but it’s also not the reason why a child should be born. if you were to keep it, he wants it to be for the same reason anyone else has children.

because you want to be a mother. not because you feel like you need to for him.

he takes a breath, his hands clenching his thighs slightly under the table. the thought that keeps spinning and spinning around his head is that he won’t be able to be there.

he won’t be able to hold your hand while you give birth. he won’t be able to be there for any check-ups. he won’t be able to see you with a baby bump, your body changing to accommodate the child growing inside you.

he won’t get to hold you when the pregnancy gets uncomfortable, won’t be there to rub your swollen feet. he won’t get to feel the baby kicking in your belly and the joy of that first movement.

he won’t get to be there for any of it. no doctor’s appointments, no late nights, no first words, no first steps.

he hates it. he hates it so much.

he won’t get to experience any of the good aspects of parenthood. he won’t get to hold you when you’re stressed, won’t get to rub your back when you feel sick. he won’t get to take care of you during your pregnancy, comfort you when you’re in pain.

his arms won’t be the ones that you curl against when you’re feeling exhausted, when the pregnancy becomes exhausting.

he won’t get to walk with you through the store, picking out cute little clothes or toys for the baby. he won’t be the one to buy the first cute little onesie, the one to assemble the cot, or the changing table. he won’t be able to help you buy all the necessary baby supplies, won’t be there to shop for a stroller or a baby carrier.

he won’t pick out your hospital bag and fill it with all the necessary items when the time comes close. he won’t get to hold your hand as the labour pains start to hit, won’t get to comfort you when the pain gets too intense.

he won’t get to watch you as you bring a tiny, screaming, beautiful little human being into the world.

if you choose to keep it — and he hopes that you’ll make that decision because you want to, not because it would give you a tiny piece of him — he won’t be the one to cut the cord.

he won’t be the first one to hold the baby after the nurses weigh it and clean it up. he won’t even be allowed near the baby, because he’s a prisoner.

it’s the worst of both worlds. being a father and not being able to be a father at the same time. being a parent, but with none of the joy. none of the happy moments, none of the milestones. he’d be a father on paper only, but in reality it would all mean nothing.

no memories, no moments, no happiness. just emptiness on his side, and the exhaustion and stress on yours.

the worst part of it all is that he can’t even be mad. if you say yes, if you choose to keep it, how the hell would he be able to be mad at that? how could he be angry at you when you’re willing to give up so much just to have a part of him?

his mind keeps going back to the first thing you said, when the conversation started.

“would it be… selfish for me to keep it?”

and he’d been willing to say yes, because it was what you wanted. because this was about you, not him.

if you want to keep it, he isn’t going to stop you. but please, please, please don’t keep it just to have a part of him.

he can’t handle that. he won’t handle that.

as he watches you through the glass, his expression is carefully stoic and neutral. he’s trying to stay controlled, trying not to let the emotions show through on his face. he’s trying to keep his tone steady as he speaks.

“please, sweetheart,” he starts again, his tone a little bit more quiet. “please, don’t use that as an excuse to keep it. don’t make your choice based on that thought.”

he holds your gaze intently, silently begging you to understand.

it’s obvious that you’re struggling to stay emotionally composed, and it’s hard for him to watch. the way that your fingers are fiddling with the phone cord, the way that you’re shifting awkwardly in your seat. it’s all evidence that you’re having a hard time handling this.

he’d give anything to be able to hold you, comfort you. but the damn glass is in the way.

he wonders, idly, if you’ve been holding it together just fine in the past few days. If you’ve been strong and brave, putting on a facade of composure.

or if, when you were alone. when there was nobody around. when you were behind an closed door.

if you’ve collapsed to the floor. if you’ve cried into your hands, let out all the stress and confusion and anxiety.

he wonders if you’ve slept at all, at night. if you’ve been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, overthinking every possible scenario until you’re exhausted. if you’ve tossed and turned, unable to turn your brain off.

wondering. questioning. overthinking. freaking out and stressing and worrying.

he wonders if you’ve even been eating properly. if you’re taking proper care of yourself.

he wonders how much the whole thing has been stressing you out, if the uncertainty is taking a toll on your mental health.

the look in your eyes now tells him that you’ve definitely been holding it together. but he doubts it’s been easy.

he knows that you’ve been going back and forth with your thoughts, second guessing yourself constantly. overthinking everything, every possible scenario. trying to figure stuff out, trying to process everything.

it’s clear to him just how much of toll this is taking on you, even if you’ve been struggling to keep it under control so far. even if you’ve been putting on a strong and mature front in front of him.

he can see the stress in your eyes now, just how much the whole situation is messing with your head.

the way that you’re sitting now. the phone cord in between your fingers, fidgeting nervously with it. the way that you’re shifting your weight from side to side, your feet tapping anxiously against the floor. the subtle nervous expression on your face, how your cheeks are flushed a little bit. your slightly heavier breathing.

it’s all proof that you’re struggling to keep it together. struggling to keep yourself composed.

he feels a wave of helplessness rush over him, as he’s forced to sit there, separated by the glass from you. he wants to comfort you so desperately. hold you in his arms, rub your back, kiss your forehead.

but he can’t. he can only sit there, watching, as you struggle to keep your composure.

are we keeping it or what? 👀

— TAG LIST —

@ga33y3 @icedchailattebabyy @betty-boop-lips-05 @harrysbestiee @badaspice @tsukishimawhore

#luigi mangione #luigi mangione x reader

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burnforyou · 18 hours ago

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FRAT PARTY - LUIGI MANGIONE x READER

!SUMMARY! frat president!Luigi x uptight!nerdy!reader. pure fluff! a lazy short one for my fluff enjoyers.

!WARNINGS! none really, just alcohol.

his eyes scanned the party carefully, until he saw you. he stopped in his tracks, immediately doing a double take.

i didn't know she attended parties. especially frat parties. she should be in her bed at this hour, curled up with a good book, not here, at this disgusting party full of drunk fucks who are just trying to get their dicks wet.

luigi plops down on the couch next to you, resting his arm on the cushion behind you.

"didn't expect to see you here," he flashes his bright smile at you.

"I'm here for my friend," she says, gesturing to another girl in the crowd.

"she doesn't seem to be appreciating the fact that you're here," he looks down at you, taking in your outfit. It's not what you usually wear, its different. its not you. you look uncomfortably uptight in a short, tight skirt and tank.

"well, shes my friend, and she's drunk, so she's not in her right mind," you try defending her.

"hey Luigi, someone's fighting!" some random frat brother yells at him.

"fuck," he sighs, rubbing his forehead. "I'll be back," he pats your thigh, "stay right here, alright?"

you nod and watch him stride away to handle the situation.

another body sits down on the couch next to you and you look up from your phone smiling, expecting Luigi. instead, you're met with the face of one of his frat brothers.

"you look too sober," he says to you, holding out his red solo cup to you. "take a sip."

you look between him and the cup, unsure.

"it won't kill you. I'm Jake by the way."

fuck it, you think, grabbing the cup and taking a big swig of the mysterious drink. it actually tasted pretty good, but burned a little going down your throat.

"y/n," you say after swallowing.

"pretty name for a pretty girl," he smiled at you. "so, what brings you here tonight?" he flirts, taking another sip of the drink you're now sharing.

"oh, I don't know, just wanted to have a fun time," you lie, smirking at him.

"hey, you wanna come with me to get a refill?" he smiles, showing you the bottom of the cup.

"sure!" you spring up. his hand settles in the small of your back and guides you to the kitchen where he mixes one bottle with another and hands the cup back to you.

"try it," he yells over the music. you take a sip and nod.

"pretty good," you take another sip.

luigi takes a swig of a beer, his first drink of the night, watching you two flirt from afar. It's so fake, and nothing like you. he knows you, he knows you're not like that.

before you knew it, he's pumping you full of a mysterious, semi-pleasant tasting drink and singing "I Can't Feel My Face" by The Weeknd in your face, literally.

he was actually kinda cute, but he wasn't your type, per say.

and whats your type? you ask?

oh, just tall, smart, Italian guys with curly hair who kinda look like Luigi Mangione, but aren't him!

not to say Jake wasn't smart, I mean, he goes to UPenn for gods sake. it's just, he's just...

he's not Luigi. he's not your biggest rival in the engineering program, the man who never fails to piss you off and turn you on at the same time.

but he's a good distraction, that's for sure.

speak of the devil: he's standing in front of you now.

but he's not paying attention to you: he's yelling at Jack. or was it Jake?

“you leave her alone, go find someone else to mess with,” he growls in his face, pushing him away.

“or what, luigi? she’s not your girlfriend.” he holds his hands up, faking innocence.

“or i’ll fucking kill you,” he growls lowly so only jake could hear him, afraid of scaring you. he watches jake stalk away and looks back to you, his face softening when he sees you looking up at him.

"what are you doing?" he talks down to you, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you slightly. you blink up at him in shock.

"what do you mean?" you say stubbornly, your skin burning where he's holding you.

"you're not being yourself," he argues with you.

"you don't even know me!" you shout at him, running away (or trying to, in your drunken state) to go dance.

you join some random girls and dance drunkenly with them, having the time of your life. your first time drunk. you had no idea it was this fun. if you knew how much fun you'd be having, you'd be attending frat parties weekly.

you keep Luigi in the back of your mind as you grind on a random guy that joined you.

"give me that," he growls at a random brother, grabbing a beer bottle from him and chugging it down. he leans against a wall and watches you, never taking his eyes off of you.

when "Come Get Her" by Rae Sremmurd starts playing, a random girl pulls you onto a table with her.

somebody come get her, she's dancing like a stripper

hoots and hollers come from around you as you and another girl literally dance like strippers. it felt like something straight out of a movie: the nerdy girl turns hot and starts dancing on tables. the world around you starts to spin.

and then you're falling.

falling hard from the table, the ground looking so appealing, much nicer than the table.

until warm, familiar hands catch you.

"alright, that's it, you're done." Luigi says to you, effortlessly carrying you bridal style. you stroke his face and smile.

"you caught me, my prince charming!" you cheer, wrapping your hands around his neck, the rest of the party becoming purely background noise.

"you're so handsome," you giggle drunkenly, holding his face in one of your hands. he pretends to not be basking in your attention.

"I'm taking you up to my room. you're cut off for the night." he says roughly, carrying you up the stairs. the music and voices fade away.

"whyyyy," you whine, "I wanna par-tay!"

"you're done for the night, hun." he bends down to open the door without dropping you. he softly drops you on his bed and stands over you.

"you think you're funny, don't you?" you cross your arms across your chest, pushing your tits together purposefully.

"what?" he furrows his eyebrows, his eyes flickering down and up again.

"will you just leave me alone? you're ruining my night!" you try and walk away again, but he grabs onto your arm and pulls you flush against him. you hold intense eye contact for a second and take in his features. his beauty distracts you from your argument.

you break away and sit down on the edge of his bed, looking around his bedroom.

"y/n, you're going to regret acting like this in the morning, if you even remember this in the morning!" he accidentally shouts.

hes being so mean to me, you thought. why is he being so mean to me?

suddenly, your mood swings and tears fill your bambi eyes. you look up at him, your bottom lip quivering.

"hey, what's wrong?" he sits down on the edge of the bed next to you and holds your soft face in his hand, his eyes full of concern.

"why are you doing this to me?" a tear falls from your eyes and he wipes it away immediately, wanting to throw up.

you're crying and it's all his fault. fuck, he's the worst person in the world.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, I just- I..." he trails off. you look back up at him, sniffling.

"I just want to protect you. people do bad things to smart, pretty girls like you."

"why do you want to protect me? why me? there's a million other girls out there, why are you doing this to me?" you ask through your sobs.

"because I really like you, okay? I like you more than any other girls." he pulls you into his chest and kisses the top of your head. he rubs your back, attempting to comfort you.

"you like like me?" you ask against his hard chest. his chest rises and falls as he chuckles.

"yes, y/n, I like like you."

your heart skips a beat at his confession.

"that's good, cause I think I like like you too." you yawn and wipe your last tears.

"are you tired?" he asks softly, looking down at you in his arms, struggling to believe this is real. you nod.

"you can sleep here, I'll get you a change of clothes."

you settle back onto his king bed, making yourself comfortable on his pillows. he throws a t shirt and boxers on you, turning around. you weakly discard your outfit, consisting of your friends clothes, and slip his oversized tee on.

"I'm done," you say quietly, he turns around. he looks at you, snuggled in his bed, and sighs.

you pat the cold bed beside you.

"lay with me."

he pulls his shirt and shorts off shamelessly in front of you. your tired eyes take in the shape of his strong body. he slips under the covers next to you and pulls you by your waist into his chest.

MASTERLIST - PREV WORK

is this too cliche be honest

!TAGS!

@strawbrriess @bellobambino @f4nfic-lover @btcowboy @chmpgneprblem @soggysouppp @hereandqueer6540 @poohkie90 @bricapallen16 @miarosalie11 @v1rtualsalvat10n @hypnotizedbyhood @webanglikethat @croucify @cumdnmp @ga33y3 @zeervzn @marzipanlvr @seesaw-it @raekensluver @ddlydevotion @hujirose @darleneslane

requested by @for-lovers-always

#luigi mangione #luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione fanfiction #my works #free luigi #frat!Luigi mangione #luigi mangione imagine #luigi mangione fluff #rpf #real person fiction #uhc shooter #uhc assassin #uhc killer #Luigi mangione x y/n

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makethemhoesmad · 3 days ago

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merry christmas, please don’t call

merry christmas!!!!

azzi x paige

1.14k words

please live react

if you’re sad about the angst blame @lupinqs and @imaginespazzi

—

“fuck this,” paige groans, flinging herself down onto the couch and bringing her hands to her face. she’d been sitting, rigid, staring at the gifts with her name under the tree, wondering if she should return them or save them. some of them, she’d bought three months ago, so soon she could probably still bring them back and get a refund. she flips her phone over, checking to see if one of the girls had messaged her, inviting her over to do something. it was christmas eve, after all. no messages, not even one that she definitely wasn’t looking for.

…

azzi’s laugh rings through her family’s living room, but if someone would have looked at her, they would have seen that it barely brushed her smile, didn’t even touch her eyes. there weren’t even any presents for paige under the tree, she noted. her mom had definitely bought something, they love loved her too much to not have thought of her before it happened. would they get them to paige still, somehow? what would azzi do with the hoodie, the shoes, the necklace she bought her?

who was she kidding, she’d sleep with them tonight, clutching them tight in her arms while wearing something else that still smelled like her, in the sheets they used to share.

…

paige knocks back another glass of something. definitely not very festive, she knows that much. sadly, it’s the only way she sees fit to rinse the images of her in matching christmas pajamas, baking cookies, under the covers…

stop, paige tells herself, because this is pathetic. begging on your damn knees because your girl(sorry, ex girl) was in a mood about an injury and told you to go fuck yourself, so you told her to go right on out of your bed. And you haven’t spoken to her since, unless it’s about basketball. Because it’s always about basketball

…

azzi gets nice and settled with her family, tucked in tight together on the couch to watch the Grinch, this year’s choice holiday movie. and it’s fine, azzi can sit there and try to forget, until a seemingly innocent little scene comes on. one who rushes up behind her husband, catching a quick goodbye kiss. that sends her over the edge, because she didn’t get a goodbye kiss. she should be cuddled here with her family and paige, and giggle when paige pecks her on the lips right along with the movie

she stands up abruptly, shaking her head and running into her room. she flings herself onto her bed, burying her face in paige’s hoodie, still laying there.

when katie fudd walks into the room, sitting on her daughter’s bed and lightly rubbing her back, she’s thinking of paige, too. she knows that’s who azzi needs in times like this, even when paige is the reason azzi gets like this. the only way to fix her issue with paige, sadly, is with paige.

“you should call her, sweetie”

azzi sits up, shaking her head as her tear stained face crumples again. “no, you don’t get it. she begged me not to call her. told me that if i called her, she knew we’d be right back to where we were, with the same issues.” a sob comes out at the end, because really, all azzi wants to do is call paige, beg her to hop on a flight and make it here by morning, then never let her leave her arms again.

“where’s my phone,” she sighs, teary eyes set in a determined stare.

…

paige startles awake, her phone buzzing under her pillow. the contact lit on her screen is the only one she didn’t want to see, couldn’t see. for some insane, unexplained reason, she slides to answer the call.

she hears a snuffle on the other end, then a voice croaking out, “paigey”

her resolve softens, just the way she knew it would.

“baby, is everything okay? did something happen?” she asks, even though she knows what azzi will tell her. this is what happens every time they fight, and one of them has to leave a few days after. except this time, it’s christmas.

“no, nothing is okay,” azzi whimpers into the phone. miles away, she’s clutching the phone like a lifeline, waving her mother out of the bedroom. “i need you, please, i need anything. i need to listen to you call me baby, and hold me in your arms.”

paige tries, she really does, to say no, to be firm, to say that they can talk about it when she comes back to school, but she really needs to take some of her own time right now. but something about the way azzi’s voice cracked when she said need had paige looking up quick flights.

she found nothing.

“paige?” azzi breathes, the line having gone silent.

“i’m so sorry, az. there’s no flights. not one damn plane can take me to you.”

she swears she can hear azzi’s face drop, and then she really does hear the shaking, gulping sobs that break through the speakers.

“no, sweetheart, please don’t cry. ill drive, i’ll be there tomorrow when you wake up, i swear up and down, baby, please don’t cry you’re breaking my heart,” paige grovels. she really doesn’t know how to refuse azzi, and when she’s crying, she doesn’t even think it’s possible.

“paigey, please, please, please,” azzi whispers, saying please like it’s a mantra, like it’s keeping her warm.

“yeah, baby, i’ve got you, just try and sleep. i’ll be there as quick as i can.

paige rushes around her room, mumbling affirmations to azzi as she collects things in a duffel, then locks her door and walks to her car. she hears azzi’s deep, stuttering breath that tells her she’s cried herself right to sleep.

…

the bed dips, making azzi snuffle and crack her eyes open. she glimpses a tired, tear-stained paige running her hand over her face. she then feels strong arms wrap around her, welcoming the protective feeling of someone near her as she falls back asleep.

…

paige holds azzi tightly, but her own eyes stay wide open. she cried silently nearly the entirety of her drive down here, thinking about how in a month or two, this fight will be back again, and they’ll do the same thing. sometimes, paige is the one begging for azzi to come and hold her. sometimes its azzi. same problem, because they’re connected, no matter how wrong it may seem, no matter how much they hurt each other, they’ll always be essential, the way you have to feel pain to gain something, and the way you have to boil noodles to soften them.

…

paige’s eyes flicker open, tasting azzi’s lips against her own.

“merry christmas, paige”

“i love you, azzi”

~ hope you enjoyed!

have a happy holiday!

#mutuals💀#paige bueckers #i love you sisterwifey forever <3 #remus lupin reference #azzi fudd #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #pazzi #anons😗#merry christmas please don’t call

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etheraltides · 10 hours ago

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Under Summer Skies

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x best friend!Reader

Summary: it was just a casual get together in your best friend’s yacht until it wasn’t anymore.

Warning(s): SMUT – dry humping, oral sex, pinv (wear condom, y’all), a bit of dirt talk. +18 ONLY mdni!

A/N: Grammarly keeps telling me to don’t use dots in the dialogues so who am I to argue?

The sun was setting, casting golden light over the deck of the yacht, and the gentle sway of the boat gave the illusion of an isolated world – just the two of you, surrounded by nothing but endless blue. No worries, no expectations to live to.

Rafe sat on the cushioned bench, his head tilted back, an arm draped lazily over the backrest. He wore nothing but his swim trunks, his skin kissed by the sun from a long afternoon spent on the water. His sharp blue eyes were fixed on you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips while you did your best to don’t get distracted by him.

“Are you seriously going to do this?” he asked, his tone playful but teasing as he watched you rummaging through your purse.

You grinned, holding up the pair of tweezers you’d plucked from your bag. “Yes. Your eyebrows are a disaster, Rafe. Someone has to fix them, and I’m your best friend, so I’m taking one for the team.”

He rolled his eyes, but the smirk didn’t leave his face. “I don’t need my eyebrows fixed. They’re fine.”

“They’re uneven” you countered, stepping closer and nudging his shoulder. “Come on, don’t be a baby.”

Rafe groaned dramatically but leaned back, letting his head rest against the back of the bench. “Fine, but don’t mess me up. I don’t want to look like a girl.”

You snorted, settling yourself beside him. “Relax, I’m not going to butcher you. Just sit still.”

You reached for his face, your fingers brushing lightly against his jaw as you angled his head toward you. Rafe’s skin was warm under your touch, his subtle stubble tickling against your fingertips, and you tried to ignore the way your pulse fluttered when his eyes flicked up to meet yours.

“Okay…” you said softly, your voice steadier than you felt. “Stay still.”

You began plucking, your focus narrowing in on the tiny hairs that needed to go. Rafe winced slightly, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach up and bat you away.

“Stop squirming!” you scolded, biting back a smile.

“It hurts.” he complained, his tone petulant as he couldn’t back the smile. It was adorable the way you bit your lips in concentration, the crease between your brows making it just the more adorable.

“Oh, come on. You act like you’re so tough, and you can’t handle a little tweezing?”

Rafe’s lips twitched, his smirk returning. “I’m plenty tough. I just don’t see why this is necessary.”

“It’s called grooming, Rafe. You should try it sometime.”

He laughed softly, the sound low and rich, and you felt it settle in your chest.

But then he shifted, his hands gripping your hips lightly as he said, “Here. You can’t reach like that. Come here.”

Before you could protest, Rafe tugged you forward, pulling you into his lap in a swift motion.

Your breath caught as you landed on him, straddling his thighs. His hands stayed on your hips, his grip firm but not forceful, and the heat of his skin burned through the thin fabric of your bikini. You feared that he could heart you fast beating heart now.

“Better?” he asked, his voice lower now, his blue eyes shining in the golden light.

You tried to keep your composure, to ignore the sudden spark of tension crackling between you, but it was impossible. Rafe’s gaze was locked on yours, his smirk replaced by something softer, something heavier.

“Y-Yeah, sure.” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your hands trembled slightly as you raised the tweezers again, but the task suddenly felt monumental with the way Rafe was looking at you. His eyes dipped to your lips, just for a moment, before flicking back up to meet yours.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, his tone teasing but edged with something else.

“What? Me nervous of you?” you said quickly, though your voice betrayed you. “Absolutely not.”

Rafe’s smirk returned, but this time it was slower, more deliberate. “Liar.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to regain some semblance of control. “Stay still, Cameron, or I’m going to accidentally pluck half your eyebrow off.”

“Go ahead,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower. “I trust you.”

The weight of his words settled between you, heavier than they should have been, and you found yourself unable to look away from him. His hands flexed slightly on your hips, his thumbs brushing against your skin in a way that made your stomach flip.

“Rafe.” you said softly, your voice faltering.

“What?” he asked, his tone light but his expression serious.

“This is…” You trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

“Different?” he offered, tilting his head slightly, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the soft skin of your hips.

You nodded, your fingers still resting against his jaw, the tweezers forgotten in your hand.

Rafe’s gaze flicked down to your lips again, lingering this time. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you a fraction closer, and you felt your breath hitch as the space between you disappeared.

“Tell me to stop.” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t.

Instead, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that was tentative at first, testing the waters. But Rafe didn’t hesitate. His hands slid up your sides, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that made your head spin.

The tweezers slipped from your hand, forgotten as your fingers tangled in his hair. His hands roamed your body, sliding beneath your bikini top to rest on the bare skin, his touch warm and firm.

“Rafe,” you murmured against his lips, your voice trembling.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes dark and heavy-lidded. “You want me to stop?”

You shook your head, your fingers tightening in his hair as you pulled him back in. His lips crashed against yours, his kisses growing more desperate, more insistent.

The air between you was electric, charged with a tension that had been simmering for far too long. Every touch, every kiss felt like a spark igniting something deeper, something neither of you could ignore anymore.

Rafe’s hands gripped your hips, guiding you closer, and you gasped as the movement sent a jolt of heat through your body.

“Tell me this isn’t just me,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jawline, his voice rough and edged with vulnerability.

“It’s not just you,” you whispered, your hands sliding down to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

“Good,” he said, his voice soft but sure, before capturing your lips in another searing kiss.

The sun dipped lower, casting the yacht in golden shadows, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had disappeared. It was just you and Rafe, tangled together in a moment you’d never forget.

Rafe’s kisses grew more desperate, his hands gripping your hips firmly, pulling you flush against him. The tension between you was thick, electric, and you could feel his breath hitch as he shifted beneath you.

Your fingers slid through his hair, tugging gently as his lips moved from your mouth to your jawline, then lower, grazing the curve of your neck. His stubble left a faint scratch against your skin, but the sensation only added to the heat pooling in your stomach.

“Rafe…” you whispered, your voice breathless, your nails digging into his shoulders for support.

“Mm,” he hummed against your neck, the sound low and rough. His hands roamed your waist, sliding up beneath your bikini top, his touch warm and deliberate. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

He shifted again, and you felt it – the unmistakable press of his arousal beneath you, hard and insistent. Your breath hitched as he rolled his hips, the motion deliberate, sending a spark of heat through your core.

“Rafe—” you started, but the rest of the sentence was lost as he tilted his head back, his hands guiding your hips to match his slow, rhythmic movements.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice strained but soft, his blue eyes searching yours.

You nodded, your lips parting as another wave of heat rippled through you. “Yeah,” you whispered, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance as he rocked his hips again, harder this time.

The friction was intoxicating, every roll of his body against yours sending sparks of pleasure through you. His hands slid lower, gripping your ass as he guided you, his breathing heavy and uneven.

“God,” he muttered, his voice breaking slightly as he buried his face in your neck. “You feel so good.”

You couldn’t respond – could barely think – as his movements grew more insistent, his body pressed so tightly against yours that it felt like there was nothing separating you. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve ending alive and alight with sensation.

“Rafe!” you gasped, your fingers clawing at his shoulders as he thrust upward again, harder, drawing a soft moan from your lips.

His lips found yours again, his kiss deep and heated, and you could feel the tension in his body building with every movement. His hands gripped your hips tightly, almost desperately, as if he couldn’t get close enough.

“Say my name,” he whispered, his voice rough and filled with something raw and needy.

“Rafe,” you breathed, the sound trembling as it left your lips.

He groaned at the sound, his movements faltering slightly before he caught himself, his pace quickening. The sensation, the intimacy, the heat – it was almost too much, and yet it wasn’t anywhere near enough.

“God, you’re perfect.” he murmured, his voice cracking as he kissed you again, his lips trailing down your neck. “I’ve wanted this… wanted you… for so long.”

The confession sent a shiver down your spine, and you clung to him, your body moving instinctively with his. The world outside the yacht didn’t exist anymore – it was just you and Rafe, tangled together in a haze of heat and longing. Something you have pushed aside for so long in fear of ruining your friendship that it just blew in your faces now.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

With every thrust of his hips, you could feel the fabric of your bikini bottom growing damp, the delicious friction building between your legs. Your breaths grew shorter, your heart racing in time with the rhythm he set, and your body responded to his urgency with a fiery need of its own.

“Rafe, wait,” you whispered, pulling back slightly, your eyes searching his. “We shouldn’t do this—it’ll ruin everything.”

He stilled beneath you, his eyes searching yours, his expression a mix of surprise and hunger. You could see the desire warring with something deeper, something that made your stomach flip. For a moment, you thought he might pull away, might agree with your rational words. But instead, he leaned in closer, his voice a soft murmur against your skin.

“It won’t ruin us,” he said, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on the bare skin of your thighs. “We’re already more than just friends, aren’t we?”

Before you could respond, he hooked his thumbs into the band of your panties and pushed it aside, sliding the fabric just enough to expose the slick heat of your folds. His eyes darkened, and he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “Let me show you how good it can be, baby.”

With a gentle nudge, he coaxed you to move, his own hips grinding up to meet yours as you slid down his body, the fabric of his shorts abrading your sensitive skin. His thumbs stroked the damp fabric, tracing the edges of your pussy, and you felt a tremor run through you, your protests dying in your throat as a strangled moan escaped instead.

The ache grew, pulsing with every beat of your heart, demanding more as he teased you, the anticipation driving you wild. You could feel the fabric of your panties sticking to your wetness, and the friction was exquisite, a sweet torment that had you writhing against him.

“Please, Rafe,” you begged, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them. The shyness had melted away under the weight of your desire, leaving only a raw, unbridled need. “I need—I need you to—”

He smirked up at you, a knowing glint in his eyes, and leaned back, his hand disappearing beneath the waistband of his shorts. You watched, transfixed, as he pulled out his cock, thick and hard, the tip glistening with pre-cum. His hand wrapped around it, stroking slow and deliberate, the motion mesmerizing. The sight of him touching himself, the way his muscles tensed and his breathing grew ragged, was more than you could bear.

Without a moment’s hesitation, you leaned down, your mouth watering at the thought of tasting him. You took the head of his cock between your lips, feeling the heat and velvet smoothness, and he groaned, his hips jerking upward. You took him deeper, letting your tongue dance along the underside as your hand found his length, stroking in time with your mouth. He tasted like salt and man, a heady flavor that made your senses swirl.

Rafe’s eyes rolled back in his head, his hands gripping the edge of the cushion as you worked him with a passion that surprised even yourself. You’d never felt this wanton before, never been so eager to please, but something about the situation had unlocked something primal within you. You took him deeper still, feeling the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, the muscles there convulsing around him as you struggled not to gag.

He watched you, his eyes hooded and dark with lust, his breaths coming in ragged pants. “Fuck, you’re so good at this,” he murmured, his voice tight with restraint. You felt a thrill of power at his words, a sense of control that only made you more eager to serve him.

With a graceful move, you shifted onto all fours beside him on the plush cushion, his cock still in your hand. The cooler air of the yacht’s cabin washed over your heated skin, sending a shiver through you. The position was more comfortable now, and you took full advantage, leaning down to suck him in deeper, your cheeks hollowing as you drew on him. His hand found the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you, his hips bucking in time with your movements.

But then he stilled, his eyes dropping to your thighs, where your arousal had started to dribble down. His gaze darkened, and he tugged gently on your hair, urging you to look up.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, breathless, your hand still moving up and down his shaft.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I want to taste you,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “Let me lick your sweet pussy, baby.”

The words sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, and you nodded, your breathing shallow. He helped you stand, his eyes never leaving your body, and you could feel his gaze like a physical touch. You stepped out of your bikini bottoms, the fabric falling away to reveal your bare skin, glistening with your desire. You stepped closer to him, standing at the edge of the cushion, and he reached for your thighs, urging you to straddle his face as he laid down.

You hesitated for a moment, but the need was too strong. You positioned yourself over his mouth, his warm breath fanning over your sex. He looked up at you, his eyes smoldering, and you felt your knees tremble slightly. And then his tongue was there, licking a long, slow line up the center of your pussy, from bottom to top. You moaned, the sound echoing through the cabin, and he groaned in response, his hands sliding up to grip your ass, pulling you closer.

It was messy and desperate, his tongue delving into your folds, lapping at your clit with a hunger that mirrored your own. His beard scratched against your sensitive skin, the sensation adding to the delicious assault on your senses. You could feel the wetness of his mouth, his saliva mingling with your arousal, and the sight of his blonde hair sticking to your thighs was almost too much. He feasted on you, his mouth working against you with a ferocity that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

You grabbed the railing above for balance, your body rocking against his face. You felt the orgasm building, a pressure that grew and grew with every stroke of his tongue, every nip of his teeth. It was as if he could sense it, his movements becoming more urgent, his grip on your hips tightening as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

“Rafe, I’m going to come,” you moaned, warning him through gritted teeth. But instead of slowing down, he only redoubled his efforts, his tongue flicking rapidly against your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful, a knot of sensation coiling tighter and tighter within you.

With a final, desperate moan, you climaxed, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over you. Rafe’s tongue didn’t stop, though, continuing to work you through your orgasm, drawing it out until you were trembling and weak. You collapsed against the railing, your legs shaking, your breath coming in pants.

“Holy shit,” you murmured, your voice hoarse. “That was—”

But your words were cut off as Rafe’s mouth moved away from your pussy, his eyes shining with lust as he sat up, his cock standing tall and demanding. He reached for you, pulling you back down onto his lap so that you were straddling him once again. This time, however, he positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance.

“Take it slow, baby,” he murmured, his hands guiding yours to his chest, his heart hammering beneath your palms. “Let me in.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath, and then, with a gentle rock of your hips, you slid down onto him. He filled you, stretching you in a way that made you gasp, his cock thick and hot and perfect. The sensation was so intense that for a moment, you couldn’t move, could only sit there, feeling him buried deep inside you.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” Rafe groaned, his hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples to hard points.

You bit your lip, your eyes fluttering shut as he began to rock his hips beneath you, his cock moving in and out in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had your insides clenching around him. Each stroke sent a new ripple of pleasure through your body, and you found yourself moving with him, your hips rising and falling to meet his.

The sound of your skin slapping against his filled the open deck, a testament to the passion that had overtaken you both. The sea breeze danced across your skin, adding a cool contrast to the heat of your bodies.

“Look at me, baby,” Rafe rasped, his voice thick with desire. You opened your eyes to find his gaze locked onto yours, his pupils blown wide with lust. You took his words as a command, your hips moving in tandem with his, your breasts bouncing with every thrust.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his hands sliding up your body to cradle your face. “Take it all. You’re so fucking wet for me. You’re perfect, just like I knew you’d be.”

With a your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, you begin to grind in a slow, sensual circle, watching Rafe’s eyes roll back as he loses himself in the tight, slick embrace of your pussy. The feel of him inside you was intoxicating, filling you to the brim and sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. Each rotation brought a fresh rush of sensation, his cock hitting all the right spots, and you felt yourself growing wetter and wetter with every pass.

His hands slid from your face to your hips, his grip firm as he helped guide your movements, his own hips rising to meet you. The sound of his breath grew ragged, and you knew he was just as lost in the moment as you were. The pressure built again, a delicious ache that had your muscles clenching around him, urging him deeper, begging for release.

“I’m close,” you gasped, your voice a desperate whine.

“Shit. Me too, baby,” Rafe groaned, his eyes never leaving yours as he pumped his hips up to meet yours. The friction was unbearable, the tension coiling in your stomach, tightening until you thought you might shatter.

With a final, powerful thrust, you both reached the peak, your orgasms crashing over you in a tumultuous wave of pleasure. You cried out, your nails digging into his chest as your body tightened around him, the muscles of your pussy pulsing in a delicious rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart. Rafe’s eyes squeezed shut, his teeth gritted as he emptied himself inside you, his cock jerking with every drop of his release.

For a moment, you stayed there, suspended in time, your bodies locked together in a silent symphony of ecstasy. And then, as the world slowly began to come back into focus, you slumped against him, your head resting on his shoulder, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. His arms tightened around you, holding you close, as if afraid to let go.

“We don’t have to talk about this today,” Rafe murmured against your hair, his voice a soothing balm to the sudden tension that had coiled around your heart.

You nodded, your eyes still squeezed shut, trying to hold onto the last remnants of your climax. “Okay,” you managed to whisper, your voice shaky.

As your breathing began to even out, a laugh bubbled up from your chest, and you couldn’t hold it in. “What’s so funny?” Rafe asked, his voice still strained from his own release.

You leaned back slightly, looking into his eyes with a small smile playing on your lips. “I still ain’t done trimming your eyebrows though,” you teased, lightly brushing his brow.

#rafe cameron x reader smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron smut

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sanjisleggy · 2 days ago

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the warlord’s wife (mihawk x reader)

req: Oh if you want to you should do a Mihawk x reader (fem or gn) that's hurt comfort where the reader is like the exact opposite of him. Like she is usually so happy and sweet and kind. And something happens and maybe she starts to worry that she is too much for Mihawk because he is just someone who is quiet and to himself all the time and she thinks she is constantly bothering him

a/n: ahhh my first attempt at writing for Mihawk! a much shorter fic compared to my others but i hope you guys like it nonetheless :3c i’d love to write longer fics for him if anyone has any ideas yippee

contents: rude people (lol), insecure!fem!reader, simp!Mihawk, a tiny bit of angst, some hurt/comfort, fluff :3c

wc. 1k

wanna be on my taglist?

—

standing outside the large ornate doors, you feel your face burn with embarrassment as you contemplate simply going to the docks to wait out by the hitsugibune until the gala ends. as tempting as escaping from the horrific social situation sounds right now, your pride refuses to let you bow your head in defeat.

”i don’t know how else to convince you,” you try to appeal to the two marines standing guard outside the venue entrance once more, “if you could just ask him to verify my identity—”

”i’m sorry, miss,” the larger man of the two cuts you off with a less than apologetic look. “there’s just no reason why we should do as you say. if we listened to every man or woman demanding to go in, we’d lose our heads.”

your indignance and frustration quickly bubbles into pure anger and for a brief moment you lament having left your katana back at the castle. you bite your tongue, unable to think of any other way to convince the marine officers that you are, indeed, a guest who’d been invited to the gala because you’re literally one of the Warlords’ wives.

“besides,” the other officer chips in unprompted, “no offence but you don’t seem like the type of woman someone like Dracule Mihawk would marry.” his partner fails to hold back a scoff but quickly attempts to return his expression back into one of neutral professionalism.

clenching your fists by your sides, you try your very hardest to keep your eyes from tearing up for the second time tonight. normally such a comment wouldn’t phase you—years of being Mihawk’s partner has done wonders for thickening your skin—right now, though, you can’t help but feel a familiar sharp stinging sensation pierce through your chest.

of all the snarky comments you marine dogs decide to make, why this one?

ii.

it had only been an hour into the gala and already you regretted begging your husband, just weeks prior, to consider attending with you as his guest. the event was a grand one held by the marines every year to “show their appreciation” towards their allies, which included the Seven Warlords; and every year the invite would show up at your doorstep only to be promptly thrown out by your introverted husband.

”can we please go? i miss going for social events like these.” you’d pleaded that night in bed, hugging his arm tightly as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck—a move he liked to call ‘playing dirty. “just this once to see what it’s like, then i’ll never ask again.”

both you and Mihawk knew it was a lie but the swordsman was nothing if not a simp for you so he begrudgingly agreed.

”care to elaborate why?” you challenge, taking the two marines aback if their surprised expressions are anything to go by. clearly not used to ‘civilians’ talking back to them, they take a moment to gather their thoughts—and at least have enough decency to look embarrassed at being called out.

”w-well—”

“your wife is such a chatterbox! it’s a wonder you’ve tolerated her for as long as you have!”

”your husband is whom? forgive me, i find that hard to believe.”

”i thought he was some kind of recluse?”

”maybe it was an arranged marriage. how scandalous.”

”i pity the poor man. all my husband does is talk and it drives me insane some days.”

”darling?” a deep familiar voice calls out from behind you, accompanied by the sound of heeled shoes clicking against stone. before you can turn around, you feel his warm hand rest itself on your shoulder, the comforting heat of his body engulfing you from behind. “i’ve been looking for you.”

the blood drains from both the marine officers’ faces, their eyes widening in shock as it dawns on them what a mistake they’ve just made. as though pleading for mercy, the eyes of the larger man flickers in your direction, almost screaming: “please, i’m too young to die.”

”were these men giving you trouble?” Mihawk probes gently, using his other hand to tilt your head in his direction. the moment his eyes meet your own and widen ever so slightly, you know there’s no point lying. as much as you’ve been able to hold back your tears of frustration well enough to fool the average man, your husband is anything but average.

mouths still agape, the marine officers can do nothing but watch as the notorious swordsman proceeds to cup your face with his right hand in a manner so tender they can’t help but suspect he’s an imposter. unbothered by the unbelieving stares sent his way, Mihawk brushes his thumb under your eye as though to confirm his suspicion.

”they were but it’s okay now,” you finally reply, placing your hand over his to hold it in place as you relish in the comforting warmth of his palm.

”what did you do to my wife?” he disregards your subtle plea for peacemaking. he knows you well enough to infer that you simply don’t want him to make a scene for the sake of maintaining his public image.

Mihawk’s aware of how much you actually enjoy silently watching him defend your pride and honour; and he also knows from experience how happily you’ll reward him with your honeyed words and sweet touches later tonight, when it’s just the two of you alone together. it concerns him, slightly, if he were to be honest, how easily you have him wrapped around your finger—but that’s something to think about another day.

the marines stutter and stammer but nothing coherent leaves their lips, all linguistic ability fading into nothing under the angered gaze of the Warlord.

”be thankful my beloved is as kind as she is,” the swordsman warns, all the while maintaining his hardened glare. “know that had she not vouched for you two, i’d have no problem killing you right where you stand.”

—

taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x yn #one piece x you #op x reader #op #fanfic #imagine #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort

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goopgirlie813 · 3 days ago

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Fair, I guess. I see where you are coming from.

From my perspective, the reason serial criminals like Dahmer get brought up is because it is the situation where prisons seem the most necessary. Like, at least temporarily, if someone is killing and raping other people they should be separated from society so they can't access victims, right? Even if just until they finish some form of rehab. And in my mind, none of the things you proposed seemed like they would actually deny serial criminals access to victims. Forceful detention, even just temporarily, seems in my mind like the most reliable way to keep someone like Dahmer from having an opportunity to reoffend. That's the key, opportunity to reoffend. I find it terrifying to imagine a society where someone can be caught and convicted and sentenced for horrific crimes and still have the opportunity to access victims if they want. I think that's what most people are trying to do with that argument. Not an infinite loop but an (admittedly poorly executed) expression of the fear that without prison people like Dahmer could just continue killing. Intuitively it seems like these people won't stop unless they are incapable of continuing and prison is an easy to understand way to make their reoffenses impossible. Its scary to imagine taking that away and reintroducing that possibility.

That said, now that I've cooled off a bit I think I can better see why you are frustrated. You have been answering to the best of your ability but there have been layers of uncommunicated assumptions beneath the questions we were asking that we (or I, at least) didn't even realize were there. I thought I was being more straightforward than I was because I took for granted the ways your perspective differed from what I am familiar with.

I assumed that it was a given that Serial Criminals need a forceful denial of access to victims in order to be adequately addressed and I also assumed that it was a given that prisons are the only way to guarantee that. The way it has always been presented to me, prisons are the definitive method of stopping a crime and those crimes can only continue harming the public if the perpetrator is outside of the prison. So follow that logic train, if someone won't stop reoffending you need to be able to draw a line somewhere by putting them in prison or else it will never end. Therefore, if you abolish prisons, some criminals will never and can never be stopped so we will be forced to accept the fact that we may be murdered or raped or whatever at any random point and there will be nothing anyone can do to stop them. (Except extrajudicial violence, of course, but that's really no way to run a stable society.)

And I'm sure you will see some glaring issues with that train of thought that aren't so obvious to me, but hopefully that makes it make a little more sense.

The key problem here, I think, is that we believe that some form of detention is the only way to definitively stop certain people from re-offending. Specifically for the scenarios where the crime is a serious danger to others, like rape and murder. We want a definitive solution to exist somewhere because if it doesn't then the mere existence of Dahmer types evokes a feeling of terrified helplessness, "what if we can't change them? What if there's nothing we can do to be safe?"

Detention seems like the only truly definitive answer (or at least, the most definitive available) so what's really being asked is, "is there a point in which you will allow prison in emergencies or do you have a different, equally definitive way to stop them?" and no number of rehabilitation or reduction options listed will ever satisfy that question. There needs to be something that can forcefully prevent killers who want to kill from killing (or raping or stealing or whatever) in that time period between conviction and reform, or else we will never find complete prison abolition an acceptable option, no matter how much we support rehabilitation as the primary approach (as I do. I only argue for detention as an emergency back up plan for repeat offenders of horrific crimes, to keep them from hurting people if or until they can be successfully rehabilitated). Without that, it seems like a gaping hole, an oversight, a blind spot, a loophole for the worst of the worst to terrorize us without adequate consequence or barriers.

I was getting really frustrated that you were treating the "what if they reoffend?" question like a rhetorical trick because in my mind it was asking, "How do we prevent people who want and intend to kill us from actually being able to kill us?" (big fear for those in marginalized groups who face frequent hate and threats) but to you it seems it sounded like "how can we trick you into supporting prisons and admitting you're wrong?" And while you seem to have been trying to say, "I'm not budging on my opinion unless you can convince me that prisons are valuable," it sounded to us like, "so what if they kill people? Prisons fail too much anyway so letting them go on murder sprees really isn't any worse if you think about it. Allowing a little murder and rape here and there is just the price of a fair and just society." And while that probably sounds bonkers to you I hope it explains why you're getting the reactions you are. I mean, imagine how you would react if you thought someone was telling you that, if they couldn't just talk him into being a good person, they would have shrugged it off and willingly let Jeffery fucking Dahmer continue roaming free for the sake of "improvement" and dismissed his victims as collatoral damage. Not what you were saying, but the miscommunication sure as hell made it sound that way. In reality, we are all talking past each other and having two separate conversations and the same time without realizing it.

(Hope I understood what you were trying to say correctly.)

so yeah I apologize for making you pull out your hair, I've been doing the same. Hopefully this helps at least a little bit. Even if you still think we're being irrational and foolish for this position I hope it gives you a little more clarity moving forward.

Pretty sure @needabetternamelater has reblogged like 5 of my posts and then blocked me. So that's funny. But, just in case it's just a glitch that won't let me reblog those replies.

What do we do with rapists in a prisonless society? Well, 1. Fewer than 1% of rapists go to prison, so holding up prison as the standard that any other solution has to beat isn't hard. What do with do with rapists in a society with prisons? For 99+%? Not prison.

2. Prisons do not reduce the amount of rapes that happen. So again, prison fails pretty handedly at being both a prevention and a punishment. (It's a bit like arguing 'without the death penalty, what will we do with shop lifters?")

3. I've explain many times, on posts you've responded to, the variety of responses a justice system can have to any crime, including sexual assault. Mandatory counseling, restraining orders, restorative/reparation hearings, housing and employment restrictions, fines, caseworker check ins, mental health consults, and vocational training are all possible responses, and which would would have the best chance of preventing recidivism would depend on the specifics of that person and the risk factors in them reoffending.

In the past, we locked people in pillories and cut off their hands for crimes. Phasing out a cruel and ineffective punishment doesn't mean there's free reign for crime.

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rqyup · 2 days ago

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# experimental game pt 2

pairing.. sylus x non mc!reader

cw.. angst, ooc sylus(?), zayne appearance, implied suggestive scenes

a/n.. im srry guys this is so rushed 😔😔 pt 1.. (working on zayne ending!)

love and deepspace masterlist

It’s been a few months since everything ended between me and Sylus. Despite the time that’s passed, I can’t seem to forget the life we shared. Every kiss, every hug, every night tangled in each other’s arms—it’s all etched deeply in my heart.

Every waltz, every playful banter... it almost felt like we were perfect, didn’t it? That’s what I thought, at least. But then again, I was probably deluding myself. He never felt anything for me besides lust, right?

When I left Sylus, I also left behind the life of luxury that came with him. Now I’m back to paying bills, taxes, and—ironically—back to the same job I abandoned for him. Once again, I’m donning the coat of a doctor, walking the same hospital halls I thought I’d left behind forever.

I always prided myself on being a "law-abiding citizen," someone who wouldn’t bend for anything. But tell me, who could resist eyes like his? Looking back now, I realize how foolish I was. If I hadn’t wasted my time and effort chasing something so fleeting, I might have been promoted to chief doctor by now.

To cope, I’ve buried myself in work—exhausting shifts, endless patients. But even then, I couldn’t escape the emptiness, so I turned to people instead. That’s when I met Zayne, a brilliant doctor with an air of aloofness. I thought he was just a snob at first, someone too proud to speak more than a word.

But the more I got to know him, the more I saw the cracks in his façade. Like me, he carries the weight of being abandoned by someone he loved.

It’s strange, almost eerie, how our stories seem to align. The parallels are too close for comfort, yet I convince myself it’s nothing more than coincidence. After all, what are the odds?

Still, there’s something about Zayne—something that feels... steady. Safe. And I can’t help but wonder: could two broken people find solace in each other?

"Tell me, Dr. Zayne," you paused, your voice soft yet probing, the words carefully chosen.

He looked up from the desk, his usual composed expression wavering ever so slightly.

"Just what did your loved one do to make you feel this betrayed?" you asked, leaning forward slightly. "Even with my situation, I didn’t become that miserable. Could it be worse than mine?"

For a moment, Zayne stayed silent, his fingers lightly drumming against the armrest of his chair. Then, with a deep exhale, he began to speak.

"I gave up everything," he said, his voice laced with a bitterness that made the air feel heavier. "I sacrificed it all because I thought she was worth it. I willingly betrayed people I never thought I would betray... betrayed myself... all to be with her."

His words hung in the air, striking a nerve you didn’t expect.

"It’s ironic, isn’t it?" he continued, a faint, bitter smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You think you’re making the ultimate sacrifice for love, that it’ll mean something. But in the end, you’re left wondering if you were just a stepping stone for them to find their happiness with someone else."

You swallowed hard, his confession cutting deeper than you anticipated. It was eerily similar to your own choices, the way you left behind your career for Sylus—a man who never looked at you the way he now looked at her.

"I needn’t elaborate further," Zayne said finally, his tone distant. "I suppose it’s just... that way. Love demands, takes, and often leaves you hollow."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His words echoed in your mind, a mirror to your own pain. You wanted to argue, to tell him that it wasn’t always like that—but deep down, you weren’t sure if you even believed it anymore..

Maybe it was just the wind, or perhaps the faint growling of your stomach, but the longer you looked at Zayne, the more you began to notice the quiet elegance about him. His green eyes, sharp yet gentle, seemed to hold an unspoken wisdom. The way he carried himself—graceful, composed, and unfalteringly poised—made you realize how truly admirable he was.

"Ah," he broke the silence, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Did my talking bore you? Or is that your stomach making itself known?"

His voice was low, the faint laugh barely audible. But somehow, it was enough to send your heart fluttering unexpectedly.

"It's nothing, Dr. Zayne," you replied quickly, trying to mask the sudden rush of warmth to your cheeks. "I just... forgot to eat this noon."

"Forgot?" He raised an eyebrow, a trace of amusement in his expression. "Well... if that’s the case, would you care to accompany me? I tend to have my lunch a little late as well, so if you’re up for it, I wouldn’t mind the company."

You hesitated, caught off guard by the offer. Yet the thought of sharing a quiet moment with him, away from the exhausting confines of work, felt oddly comforting.

"Alright," you said, trying not to sound too eager.

As he gathered his things, you couldn’t help but steal another glance at him—the confident tilt of his head, the calmness in his every movement. He was everything Sylus wasn’t: grounded, thoughtful, and radiating a quiet strength.

And as you walked beside him down the hallway, you found yourself wondering: why didn’t you notice him before Sylus? Was it because you were too blinded by the allure of chaos? Or was it because, for the first time, you were starting to appreciate the kind of love that didn’t demand sacrifices?

Maybe, just maybe, there was something about Zayne you were beginning to see.

You walked alongside Zayne toward the small café at the corner of the hospital street. The air between you was light, your earlier conversations about work and shared frustrations creating an easy camaraderie. But as you entered the café, everything shifted.

There he was—Sylus. And beside him stood her, ms. hunter

Sylus’ gaze landed on you first, his smirk growing as he straightened from where he leaned against the counter. He hadn’t changed. That same magnetic confidence, the same cocky air that drew you in and tore you apart.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Sylus drawled, his tone rich with mock surprise. His eyes swept over Zayne briefly before returning to you. “I see you’ve been busy.”

Zayne, at first, didn’t react, his body rigid beside you. But then his gaze locked on the woman at Sylus’ side. His lips parted ever so slightly, his normally composed expression faltering.

MC turned to glance at you and Zayne, her polite smile freezing when she saw him. For a second, the world seemed to stop.

“Zayne?” she whispered, her voice soft but unmistakable.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, glancing between her and Zayne. “You two know each other?” he asked, his tone casual but laced with curiosity.

Zayne’s jaw tightened, his voice cold as steel. “Briefly.”

The woman shifted uncomfortably, guilt flickering across her face as her eyes darted from Zayne to you. Sylus, oblivious to the undercurrents between them, chuckled. “Ah, so you're one of those people in her old circles. Connections, am I right?”

Zayne didn’t answer, his sharp gaze fixed on her.

“You’ve been quiet,” Sylus said, looking at you now, his smirk ever-present. He gave an exaggerated grin, his arm tightening around MC. “It’s good to move on, wouldn’t you say?”

Your stomach churned. The jab was subtle but aimed with precision, as if Sylus had crafted it just to unravel you.

“Move on?” Zayne’s voice broke the tension, low but laced with restrained bitterness. He wasn’t looking at Sylus. His gaze was locked on the woman, the weight of his words aimed squarely at her. “Some of us have no choice but to.”

Her expression crumbled. “Zayne, I—”

Sylus interrupted her, oblivious to the storm building. “Well, isn’t this cozy? Small world and all. We should catch up sometime.” His smirk widened. “Doctor, was it?”

Zayne’s eyes snapped to Sylus, cold and unyielding. “Yes. Doctor Zayne,” he said, his voice clipped.

Sylus shrugged. “Ah, yes. I’ve heard about you—through some articles.”

Zayne didn’t respond, and Sylus didn’t seem to notice or care about the tension thick enough to cut with a scalpel.

“Anyway,” Sylus said, turning his attention back to MC. “We should head out. Busy day.”

She hesitated, glancing back at Zayne one last time. But he said nothing, his face betraying nothing despite the turmoil you could feel radiating off him.

As Sylus and ms. hunter left the café, Zayne turned abruptly, his back to the exit. His hands gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles white.

“Zayne…” you started, unsure of what to say.

You reached out, hesitating before placing a hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t know…”

“It doesn’t matter,” he cut you off, though his tone wasn’t harsh. Just tired. “It was a long time ago.”

But the look in his eyes told a different story, one of wounds that never fully healed.

You and Zayne bid farewell, both aware that the tension from earlier would likely cast a shadow over the rest of your time together. By the time your 12-hour shift ended, exhaustion weighed heavily on you, and you collapsed into bed, grateful for the temporary escape of sleep.

But just as you were drifting off, your phone buzzed. You reached for it, blinking at the message from Zayne: "I'm sorry for yesterday."

You smiled, your fingers quickly typing a response. "It's alright."

The small joy that the message brought you was short-lived, and as you lay in bed, you couldn't shake the lingering discomfort from earlier. It was almost like the weight of the day’s events was too much to just brush off.

So, you decided to get some fresh air, hoping the night might clear your mind. The streets were quiet, and the air was crisp, making the walk feel like a brief reprieve. Your feet carried you almost automatically toward a place that, despite yourself, you had visited before—a spot where Sylus frequently showed up, outside of the N109 zone.

It felt strange, walking there without really thinking about it. Maybe you were expecting to see him? Maybe you just needed to prove to yourself that you weren’t as affected as you felt. The thought lingered like a shadow, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn back.

And then, as if the universe had been waiting for this moment, you heard a voice—chilling yet familiar—call out from behind you.

"Sylus."

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. It was him.

But as you turned the corner, you heard that voice—a voice you recognized all too well—calling out from the shadows.

“Well, well, if it isn’t you.”

You froze. You should’ve turned around and walked away, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Slowly, you turned to face him, your heart pounding against your chest. Sylus was standing just a few steps away, leaning against the wall with that smirk you had come to both dread and expect.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, every word dripping with sarcasm.

You held your ground, forcing yourself not to show how uncomfortable his presence made you. “What do you want, Sylus? " you asked, trying to keep your tone neutral.

His eyes glittered with amusement as he pushed himself off the wall and took a few steps closer. “I’m just curious, that’s all,” he said, his gaze flicking to the phone still gripped in your hand. “Zayne, huh? Tell me, what’s he like? The 'good guy' type, I’m guessing?”

You didn’t like the way his words tasted, but you refused to show it. “What’s it to you?” you shot back, trying to sound unaffected.

Sylus chuckled, his smirk widening. “Nothing, just wondering if you’ve got a thing for the boring, predictable types. Or maybe you’re just tired of the excitement, huh?”

You narrowed your eyes, taking a step back. “Excitement? Is that what you think you are, Sylus? Exciting?”

He leaned in just a little closer, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I know I’m more exciting than anything Zayne could offer.” His tone was so smooth, it made your skin crawl. “He’s all ‘serious’ and ‘responsible,’ while I’m... well, I’m anything but.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, a mix of anger and frustration threatening to boil over. “You don’t know anything about me,” you said through gritted teeth.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, amused by your reaction. “Oh, I think I know enough,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “You’re not the type to settle for the boring, good guy routine. You want something more, don’t you?”

Before you could reply, he took another step forward, closing the distance between you. His proximity made you tense, the air thick with tension. It was as if he was deliberately trying to push you to the edge. His dark eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement and something darker—something you couldn’t quite place.

“I don’t think you’ve figured out what you want yet, sweetie.” he said softly, his words almost a challenge. “But maybe I could show you something... more exciting.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and for a moment, you froze. Sylus was so close now, you could feel the heat of his body. His gaze never left yours, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t stop your breath from hitching in your throat.

"You're still the same, kitten.

The room felt heavy with the weight of what had just transpired. You lay quietly beside Sylus, the silence stretching between you both, a tension in the air that neither of you seemed to know how to break. The rawness of the night still lingered, but it was different now—softer, almost like something deeper had replaced the sharp edges of your frustration.

Sylus broke the silence first, his voice unusually low and softer than you were used to hearing from him. “I’m not proud of how things went between us.”

You turned toward him, watching as he avoided your gaze, his eyes focused on the ceiling. “You’ve never really made people feel important, have you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with the frustration you hadn’t been able to shake.

He didn’t immediately answer, letting the silence settle in once more. When he finally spoke, it was with a quiet honesty you didn’t expect. “I was selfish,” he admitted. “I wasn’t thinking about what you needed. I was too caught up in... other things.”

You closed your eyes, letting out a slow breath. “I left because I couldn’t keep being in a relationship that wasn’t real. I wasn’t getting anything I needed, Sylus.” Your voice softened. “I couldn’t keep giving when you weren’t even giving me anything in return.”

He met your gaze, his eyes full of a rawness you hadn’t seen before. “I get it. I wasn’t the man you needed me to be. But... I never got over you, kitten. Never stopped thinking about you.”

His words hit you like a punch to the chest. You didn’t know how to respond. You had tried to move on, to distance yourself from everything that happened, but now that he was here, so close, it was harder than you wanted to admit. “I tried to move on too, Sylus,” you murmured, your voice breaking. “But it’s not that simple.”

There was a pause, and you felt him shift beside you, a restless energy in his movements. He rubbed a hand through his hair, his eyes unfocused as if searching for the right words to say. Finally, his voice broke through again. “You know... I didn’t realize how much I still... felt for you until I saw you with Zayne. I couldn’t get it out of my head. The way you two were together... It drove me crazy.”

You blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

Sylus turned toward you, his eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity. “I felt so jealous, sweetie. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Seeing you with him... I realized that I still love you. And that’s when it hit me. How much I never really moved on. Not completely.”

Your heart stuttered, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. His words, raw and unfiltered, hung in the air between you, and you didn’t know what to say. You thought you had moved on. You thought you were past this. But hearing him say it so plainly—hearing him admit it—brought all those buried feelings rushing to the surface.

“I never thought I’d feel this way again,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “But here we are. And I can’t just walk away from it.”

You swallowed hard, fighting the emotions that welled up inside you. “Sylus, you can’t just come back into my life like this. After everything...”

He reached for your hand, his grip tight but gentle, his touch grounding you in a way you didn’t expect. “I know I can’t fix everything, kitten. But I want to try. If you’ll let me.”

You didn’t speak right away, your mind a swirling mess of conflicting thoughts. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to let him in. But you also knew the pain he had caused you before. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know where we go from here, Sylus. But... maybe we’ll figure it out.”

A softness you rarely saw crossed his face, and he gave you a small, genuine smile. “Yeah. We will.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence, but it was different this time. The weight of your conversation still hung heavy in the air, full of unspoken truths. You could feel the tension creeping back in, but this time it wasn’t the kind of tension that had torn you apart before. It was a new kind of energy—one you weren’t sure you were ready for, but couldn’t seem to resist.

As you lay there beside him, your breath caught in your throat. The distance between you was closing, and you could feel the air between you crackling with an intensity that was impossible to ignore.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin, and you couldn’t help but feel the pull. His hand brushed against your cheek, and his eyes darkened as he looked at you.

You didn’t say anything, but the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. And for a moment, all the pain, all the distance between you, seemed to disappear.

Sylus's body was pressed against yours, his lips dangerously close to yours as his hand slid down your back, pulling you even closer. You could feel the heat between you both, the undeniable chemistry, a raw tension that neither of you could ignore.

His breath was shallow as he leaned in, his lips just grazing yours, teasing. "You still want this?" he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

You nodded, heart racing, your body responding to every inch of him. You leaned in, almost there-

"Boss!" said luke and kieran.. banging the door, unaware of what's happening inside.

"Seriously?" Sylus muttered, his voice tinged with frustration.

Reader shot him a look, equally irritated. "Of all the times... now?"

The tension hung in the air as the moment slipped through their fingers, the interruption pulling them back into reality.

But hey, atleast they're back together now. ;)

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evieelyzabethh · 1 day ago

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If it’s okay to request, may I request something in modern au (viktor x reader, established relationship) where jayce is hosting a costume party and reader dresses in something that makes her look super pretty (maybe I even suggest, her dressed as cowboy barbie, cause my bi self is obsessed with that look) and viktor gets handy with her. If you’re comfortable, can you make it nsfw or at lesser suggestive?

Definitely projecting as someone whose personal fav holiday is Halloween, but I imagine reader to be super stoked about it. Like the set up gets a big makeover that she forces Vik to help her with, there's a bunch of spiders and skulls and spooky decor all over the place, the ambient music transitions to creepy organs or the instrumental soundtrack of one of those old Hollywood horror movies. You definitely spare no expense when it comes to costumes, sometimes even going as far as to make it yourself.

Jayce isn't the biggest Halloween guy; he just likes the decor and the movies. While you went as cowboy Barbie, he definitely went as a plain cowboy, walking around shirtless with a huge cowboy hat atop his head and a lasso attached to the leather belt he's wearing. The denim jeans he wears are flared, just barely showing the brown boots that he bought to match with the suspenders the rest on his bare chest. The party is rather intimate, nothing more than a bunch of mutual friends, a bunch of pizza, and at least a gallon of Jungle Juice.

Now, you knew that Viktor wasn't going to be Ken. Even though his costume wouldn't be a matching hot pink, he thinks the fringe is silly and totally not his vibe. To be fair, he hasn't done a matching costume with you since you went as a Playboy Bunny, and even then, he only showed up in a suit and tie. He didn't even name the costume; he just went along with what everyone else assumed. That year, he was a man of many costumes: Men in Black, James Bond, Hugh Heffner, a bodyguard. Someone even thought it was a Legally Blonde reference, and he was Emmett. This being said, he has no issues with you going as cowboy barbie or any of the other skimpy costumes you've worn throughout the years, as long as he gets to tag along and see you in it.

He doesn't even have to worry about jealousy, it's incredibly clear who you came with. He doesn't force you to stay by him, but the way your gaze travels to him at parties, the pretty curls you spent hours on bobbing around as you move around to find him in the crowd makes it incredibly obvious who you're tethered to. The pink, starred ascot that had been around your neck had been undone by a bathroom make out session and could now be found around his wrist. When you talk to friends, you make yourself cozy next to him, the drink you've been nursing for the better part of an hour in your hand as you lay your head on his chest, squirming deeper into him as what he whispers in your ear makes you shiver.

And you think you're being slick, but the way his hand plays on your thigh and the look in your eyes getting farther away says everything. So, when you abruptly say your goodbyes, no one is surprised that your car stays parked out front for at least a half hour.

It's really not the most comfortable arrangement, knee deep in the passenger seat or whatever Chapel said. Your head keeps bumping into the steering wheel, even with the seat being pushed as far back as it'll go, but his hand at the back of your head absorbs most of the impact. You hear it in his voice when he hisses extra loud, his eyes closing as he weighs out whether or not it's worth it to pull you off and drive home. He knows if he asks you, you'll just tell him to drive as he sucks you off and he is desperate enough to do just that.

Especially with the way you look right now. He's always been the type to initiate eye contact, and with how good you look right now, your make-up miraculously intact thanks to whatever waterproof mascara you use, spit dripping from your chin to the top of your tits, your cheeks red, eyes a bit gone from the lack of oxygen, he could cum just by looking at you. His little reminders, "Don't forget to breathe, doll. Through your nose, you can do it.", are quite necessary with your refusal to pull off until he spills down your throat, and fuck is he thankful. If you were in a teasing headspace and decided to edge him now, tears already in his eyes, half his energy going to steadying his own breath so he didn't pass out and the other half trying to keep him from bruising the back of your esophagus, he would probably cry.

You'd been going at it for a while already, pay back for all the lingering touches throughout the night and looking too good in that suit. The languid licks trailing from his leaking tip to his balls couldn't even be hurried along by his hips shallowly bucking into your mouth. You were in your own little world, moaning around his cock, hands pressed firmly in between your thighs as you buck into nothing while his honeyed praise goes through one ear and rattles around in your brain and spills out between your legs.

"Just a bit more. Doin' so good. So close.", he groans, so good. And he really doesn't last much longer, spurts of his cum shooting down your throat as he shudders and whimpers through the aftershocks. That post-nut clarity hits like a semi-truck when he looks out the very foggy windows to see Jayce out the window holding the clutch you left behind, looking entirely too shocked to have just walked up to the window. It's the scariest thing he saw all Halloween.

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane fanfic #arcane x you #eviesmadness🪻#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #arcane headcanon #viktor smut #arcane smut #streamerau🎮

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matheoxs · 7 hours ago

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[THIS IS GONNA BE HARSH

No way you're not assuming things in your favor and expecting your desires please, make it make sense.

I'm going to speak for all bloggers because I know some of them are tired and scared to say it. But don't come to me asking how to manifest, for the love of fucking God, READ READ FUCKING READ.

No way we are going to 2025 and your ass still asking how to manifest this and that.

Assume and let it BE, that's it. What do you want me to tell you? Jump five times and roll or something? There's literally nothing else to do.

Not only that, but those anonymous asking if the Law of assumption is real? Like, until this day, bro, get a fucking grip. Jesus Christ.

You're going post by post trying to find something that will click for you and not even applying it. You're wasting your time. I'm not saying you can't read posts or whatever, but if you're not applying it, then you're wasting your time.

It's annoying, yes it is. When are you going to decide enough is enough? Because me and other bloggers can make posts every single day, but at the end of the day, it's you. It's literally you. It's your choice.

Enough is enough.

we are literally going to 2025, enough is enough. Stop with the bullshit. You know why you don't have your desires right now, you know it, and I don't have to tell you.

Someone can spread a rumor about somebody without proof, and you will believe it.

There have been many times in your life where you assume things without proof. Yes, there have, and you probably don't even remember, and it manifested itself in the 3D.

Why are you waiting for the blogger to come back? Are they your God? Stop the glaze, please. It's getting too far to the point where you see those bloggers bigger than you.

They manifested a big house, so can you?? They're not special, I promise you.

They manifested appearance change, so can you. They manifested being able to shift every time they want, so can you.

You can talk to those bloggers in real life, and you will realize they're just regular people. They're not that special, I'm not that special.

It's really not that serious.

Because of the likes they get on their posts, it makes you think that they're bigger. They're just numbers. Knock it out.

Now, let me get real with y'all. There's no such thing as unrealistic or big desires. You're the one labeling it as unrealistic or big desires.

Do you really think that the 3D says something like, "oh no, I can't reflect that, it's too unrealistic and big"?

Do you really think that the 3D looks at your desires and says that? Think about it for a sec. Now, YOU tell me, do you really think that the 3D thinks that?

Or is it just you labeling them as big and unrealistic? You see how you're always the one who assumes things???

I KNOW, SURPRISINGLY RIGHT? Well, it shouldn't be a surprise to you. You should already know that.

I don’t want ANY ANON coming in my asks asking me dumb ass fucking questions when you can just get your ass to read and try to actually understand

It’s actually really easy to understand if I’m being fr

There’s many bloggers who literally breaks it down in the most EASIEST WAY to understand

So stop with the excuses.

Stop trying to look for motivation especially shifters Omds

Im gonna write another post on this im not done yet call me mean wtv idc it had to be said loa bloggers ARE TIREDD

And I also think that’s why the loa community is kinda dying.

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icarusredwings · 11 hours ago

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This only fits into my idea that Wolvie is demi. Sure he knows someones hot when he sees them but he dosn't really... feel anything.

He's been alive so long that people doing stuff to him just feels... kind of annoying at this point? Like yeah, okay, in Logan the drunk wife girl flashed her tits at him and he snorted, and rolled his eyes all embaressed but I don't think this counts as "hot and bothered." I think this counts as "omg lady calm down lol im just the driver lol" he did think it was a nice gesture but its an empty gesture and thats why it dosn't really do anything for him.

I think this is why he and Kurt get along so well (HERE ME OUT) Because one of kurts biggest "flaws" is that he is extremely touchy, and while the other x men cant touch logan much or lean on him, sit on him, etc, Kurt can full pearch on him and Logan dosn't care. Actually he does care. He's glad. He's happy that Kurt feels this safe with him. Happy that he feels comfortable enough to be around "the angry guy with claws". Happy that Kurt openly gives him affection without there being this weird "okay now we have to fuck" silent agreement. Logan is so tired of trying to get to know someone, cuddle them and hug them, without them immediately expecting them to sleep together. (*JINGLES KEYS* Stay with me!)

And i mean... no.. hes not sex repulsed clearly but it dosn't feel right in his chest. To fuck someone and then they leave. Wolverines mate for life so I think the thing is, what gets him hot and bothered is proving youll stay. Sticking it out with him through all times, telling him you're never going to leave him.

Then- Oh good golly then? Everything is horny worthy. You could just be sitting there and he'd get all pissy because now hes horny and mad about it. You could cassually bring him food and say you thought he might be hungry and he'll let the food get cold because hes too busy fucking you, and then eat the food after to show gratitude and appreciation.

Logan is not meant for hook up culture. He is made for "Our souls are so intertwined that seperating us would put a tear in the universe."

He could see someone whole ass naked and just blink and ask where their clothes went. You could tell him that you want him to do the dirtiest things and he'd probably just blush and think you have alternate motives.

I like to think that he does sometimes finally accept a hook up here and there simply because A. Why not. He hasnt been held in awhile and B. Why not he's literally gonn live forever might as well get some tail if they're offering.

But if and when he finds that person(s) he's locked in. Theres nothing no one else could do that would make him all hot and bothered. Someone could literally give him a lap dance and hed probably just sit there confused as hell, tell them stop, or just leave. It doesn't do anything for him at all.

Now litsen (at least in Finding Home Au, cause theyre married) Wade could come slip into bed with him, very gently rub his arm, kiss him goodnight, then cuddle into his back and Logan would automatically sit up and glare at him cause now hes hard.

"Why do you keep doing that?! Stop!"

And wades all confused "stop what?" Cause hes genuienly tired, but too bad cause Wolvie puts that baby to sleep a different way. (Best sleeps of his life btw)

Morph too, I feel like in 97 morph gets a lot of passes for jokes and touchiness. I also feel like that for the first week (maybe a month idk logan is dumb) or so logan thinks moprh is joking and dosnt actually care about him in that way, so morph starts saying more genuine and sensitive things to him and Logan now is actually blushing, still in denial but is catching butterflies, hoping that morph isnt lying but is too scared to make a move, worried their friendship will end.

Man idk what to say about storm. Logan was hot for storm the first time she punched him in the face. Idk what to tell yall, hes a simp for that woman and I am too so like I get it. Id be terrified to fuck storm though if I was litTERALLY MADE OF METAL like bruh he has more balls then me cause id be scared shed kill me after I ate her out by electrocuting me with my skull crushed between her thighs. ANYWAY

🫡🫡GLORRRY GLORY WHAT A HELLUVA WAY TO DIE 🪖🪖💪

I think Logan would be very difficult to get hot and bothered. Like. He's been through so much yanno?

Like flash a titty at this man and he'll probably be like, "what the fuck am I supposed to do with that? Can't you take me to dinner first?"

#wolverine #logan howlett #logan james howlett #logan #xmen 97 #kurt wagner #deadpool and wolverine #nightcrawler #moprh #kevin sydney #ororo munroe #storm #glory glory what a helluva way to die #thunder thighs literally

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xmads-omensx · 1 day ago

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Word Count: 1,356

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

Content Warnings: smut, body worship, detailed description of physical appearance, very brief mentions of insecurities surrounding appearance, oral f. receiving

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @chey-h

The room was dark.

The curtains had been drawn quite some time ago since it was late into the evening.

Noah had his strong arms wrapped around my waist as he snored softly into the back of my neck.

It was nice.

The darkness was too.

I thought about Noah sleeping soundly behind me, a sense of jealousy consuming my veins.

How dare he be sleeping too well whilst I lie here and toss and turn.

It wasn’t his fault that my mind wouldn’t shut off.

Maybe it was.

I didn’t know.

My issues often kept me awake. I worried if people could see me. If someone were to break in and see me, and think I was too big. I wasn’t too big. I never was. But my brain didn’t agree.

It was hard to navigate. Especially at night when Noah wasn’t there to fight off the voices.

I didn’t want to wake him.

Not tonight.

He had just come back from the biggest show of his career thus far and needed his rest.

But so did I.

I was utterly exhausted.

My brain would not shut off, making it hard to do much else.

I lay in the darkness, enveloped in my boyfriends large frame, and thought.

I always thought.

I hated it.

Thinking took up too much of my time and I wanted to stop.

My brain needed to stop.

Everything needed to stop.

It wasn’t like my brain was telling my horrible, nasty things. It just wouldn’t stop thinking of possible perceptions of me.

Not all negative.

But all too much.

Most of the time, Noah would help me shut it off, but I doubted he would do that tonight.

My tossing had awoken him.

He rubbed his eyes and kissed my cheek.

“Why are you still up, babe?”

I shrugged.

I didn’t know what to tell him. Or how to tell him.

I just shrugged and snuggled my back further into him, my ass brushing his semi-hard cock.

He groaned quietly.

I giggled slightly at his reaction.

He gripped my hips with his large hands, stilling me in place.

“Baby, you gotta stop.” Noah groaned into my neck, making all the hairs stand up. I felt myself grow wetter as his chest vibrated behind me.

Fuck.

“Is it the thoughts again? Are they keeping you up?” He asked, sounding a little more concerned.

Wow, way to kill the mood, Noah.

I nodded.

“It’s nothing bad, just a lot of them at once.” I replied in a timid whisper. I didn’t want to divulge what my brain was saying just yet as I was hoping that the steamy atmosphere that had been created was still lingering.

“Can I show you something?” Noah whispered.

I nodded once again.

He pushed himself up slightly and wiggled his large body down the bed until he was hovering over my stomach.

His larger hands crept up my torso, pulling the baggy t-shirt that I was wearing up until my breasts were exposed. The chill in the air making my nipples perk up.

He motioned for me to lift up so that he could remove the shirt entirely. I complied, curious… and horny.

Noah’s beautiful brown eyes were alight with something other than lust and love. It was more intense. I couldn’t quite place it.

“Look at you.” He said, running his fingers up and down my sides, making me shiver under his delicate touch.

I could feel his hot breath against me as he leaned closer, as if he were marvelling at the very texture of my skin.

He seemed mesmerised by my body as he began to pull the black cotton panties I was wearing down my thighs until he had removed them completely.

His hands still wandered the expanse of my body, not yet touching me where I wanted him to so desperately.

“You’re the most beautiful creature I have ever had the privilege of seeing with my own eyes.” He whispered as his eyes remained transfixed on my skin.

He marvelled at every scar, every stretch mark, every freckle as if they were individual works of art.

“I could look at you forever.” He whispered, still not looking at my face.

Noah was so close to me, his body barely millimetres away from my own.

So close, in fact, that I could feel every hair on his body brushing against my own.

I felt his hard cock that remained restrained in his black boxers brush against my leg as he moved up higher, closer to my face.

“You amaze me in every way.” He whispered in my ear before capturing my lips in a tender, yet intense, kiss.

I moaned loudly and reached up to cup his cheeks, pulling him closer into me.

Taking the opportunity, with his body in such close proximity to my own, I raised my lower half up to grind against his own, hungry for some kind of friction, be it tiny.

He began to grind against me in return.

We remained like that for a short while, just enjoying each other’s presence, until it was all too much to bear and Noah pulled away.

“I gotta taste you, honey.” He murmured, transfixed in some sort of trance as he lowered himself down towards my pussy that ached with anticipation of what was to come.

First, I felt the tip of his nose brush against my clit.

Then, I felt his tongue expertly navigate through my folds as he began to eat my pussy.

He started slowly, as if he was making love to my sex with his mouth.

It was euphoric.

If there was some kind of award for eating pussy, Noah would win every damn category.

His hands traced delicate artworks on my thighs as he licked and kissed away out of my view. It grounded me, his fingertips dancing across my skin.

My body began to tingle, letting me know I was close. I was sure that Noah knew this too as he didn’t move his position in order to make me cum.

Despite me knowing that I was close, my orgasm always took me by surprise. A white hot light erupted in my brain as it painted bright fireworks across my eyelids, filling my body with overwhelming pleasure as I came on Noah’s stunningly handsome face.

He slowed his movement before pulling away from me, still wearing that tranced expression on his face.

The wetness on his chin reflected the slit of moonlight that shone through the gap in the curtains, making him look completely ethereal.

His large hands still sat on my thighs, caressing the skin gently.

Noah leant forward and brought his body up closer to my face, capturing my lips in a tender kiss. The kiss told me everything that I needed to know in that moment.

He loved me.

It warmed my heart, the fact that he didn’t need to say anything to tell me this.

He smiled down at me warmly, before lying back on his side and pulling me into his warm chest.

I could hear his heart beating quickly in his chest as my face was pushed up against it. This was where I felt safest.

“Baby, you are a work of art.” Noah whispered.

Unsure of what to reply with, I simply smiled up at my boyfriend.

“Seriously. You are. I don’t really know how else to show you.” He began, a pussy-drunk smile across his face. “So, I’m going to make love to you tonight, and worship you and your body like you deserve.”

My heart leapt in my chest.

“Let me worship you baby.” Noah whispered as he placed two fingers under my chin, raising it up enough to place a chaste kiss onto my lips before rolling back on top of me.

“I’m so lucky to get to see all of you.” He said before sliding his cock into me.

The rest of the night, and well into the morning, Noah made love to me.

Maybe he was right after all?

Maybe I do deserve to be worshipped?

#bad omens #noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #fanfic #noah sebastian bad omens #noah sebastian thots #noah bad omens #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian x reader smut #feral friday #feral gang 🐺

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just-dreaming-marvel · 1 day ago

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Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 45

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,850ish

Summary: On the road, your group finds a family in need of help.

Warning(s): lots of movie dialogue, canon violence, injuries, character death(s)

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

The four of you found yourselves back on the road soon after the wedding ceremony. Things seemed lighter in a way. Laura and Charles sat in back while Logan drove and you sat beside him. Logan kept one hand on the wheel while his other kept a firm hold on yours. He didn’t want to let you go before your marriage was official, but now he really didn’t want to.

Charles was drifting in and out of sleep as Laura stared out the window with her sunglasses, locking and unlocking the door.

“Knock it off,” Logan said, voice gruff. Laura made no move to stop. “I said, knock it off!”

“She’s a child, Logan,” Charles said. “And, point of face, she’s your—“

“How long has it been since you took your meds?” Charles exhaled, annoyed. “Tell me, how long has it been?”

“I don’t know!”

Logan scoffed. “You saw what happened yesterday. If that shit had gone on any longer, everything in that casino—“

“I did what I had to do to save Laura and Y/N.”

“What?” You questioned, turning to look back at Charles.

“I knew you wouldn’t get to my meds and I kept you from doing so. You wouldn’t have been able to take on all those men while protecting Laura and I.”

“You had a fucking seizure on purpose?!” Logan exclaimed, clearly furious.

“I guess you prefer me pharmaceutically castrated, rambling on like a lunatic. So much easier for you.”

“Easier? There is nothing easy about you, Charles, nothing!”

“Yes, yes, please be like the rest of the world, blaming someone else for your boring shit.”

“I know, Pop, I’m such a giant disappointment.”

“What? Logan, you’re not a disappointment,” you tried to interject.

“You honestly derive no sense of purpose from what we’re doing?” Charles continued.

“Okay, what are we doing?” Logan questioned. “Hmm?”

“There is a young mutant sitting in our car.”

“Yeah, I see that.”

“And where we’re taking her, there are others. Does that mean nothing to you?”

“Yeah, means nothing to me. Especially since Nurse Gabriela made all that Eden shit up with fucking comic books.”

“What are you talking about?”

Logan let go of your hand and opened the center consul. He pulled out a bottle, handing it to you. “Give those to him, will you?”

“Logan,” you tried.

“Give ‘em to him.”

You sighed, opening up the bottle and taking two pills out. You turned back and handed them to Charles, giving him a sympathetic smile. Charles took them and tossed them into his mouth before getting a drink.

“I wanna see it,” Logan said, looking at Charles.

Charles made a noise as he opened his mouth and stuck his tough out for Logan to see. Logan took the bottle from you, threw it into the consul, and then slammed it shut. You sighed, so much for the happiness that the small wedding brought. Logan glanced over at you as you stared out the window. He took your hand and brought it up to his lips for a kiss.

“Sorry,” Logan muttered. “On edge.”

“Clearly,” you replied, turning to face him. “Can you try not to be mad at anyone in this car? The rest of the world, sure, but those in this truck are off limits. Got it?”

“Only for you.” He kissed the back of your hand again.

“Whipped,” Charles muttered.

“Have something to tell the class Professor?”

“Nothing.”

Your group fell into a calm silence for a few moments until one of the auto-semi-trucks moved too close to your truck.

“Motherfucking auto-trucks!” Logan exclaimed.

“Language, Logan,” scolded Charles. “And you’re screaming at a machine.”

“Oh, what? She can gut a man with her feet, she can’t hear a few naughty words, huh?”

“She can learn to be better.”

“You mean, better than me?”

“I’m sure that’s not—“

“Actually, yes,” Charles interrupted you.

You knew Charles wasn’t totally in his right mind, but you wished he could fully realize how much his words affected Logan.

“And, by the way,” continued Charles, “Laura’s foot claws are the obvious result of her gender, you know.”

“Is that a fact?” Logan asked.

“In a pride of lions, the female is both hunter and caregiver.”

“Good to know.”

“She uses her front claws for hunting and the back claws defensively.”

“Oh, yeah?” Logan’s sarcasm was clear.

“Thus, ensuring their survival.”

Laura watched this—and every— interaction with curiosity and caution. It was clear to her that her comics were right about somethings. One being that the Wolverine was tough and hostile, but had a soft side for those he cared about. Especially for you. Though the comics Nurse Gabriela had shown her did not do the love you two shared any justice, both the good and the bad. Laura could tell that Logan didn’t know how exactly to deal with Laura and who she was, but she could tell that the hostility was dying, though extreme slow. Laura knew that was thanks to you. As she continued to watch and listen, you looked back to check on her. You shot her a soft smile. Laura wanted to give you one in return, but she really didn’t know how, so she opted for a nod and to turn back to the window.

Just then, an auto-truck honked and began to move over to the lane that your truck was in without even waiting. Logan was forced to swerve quickly, driving into oncoming traffic. Laura held onto Charles trying to keep him steady while you gripped the handle near your door and the middle consul. Logan maneuvered through the oncoming traffic until there was a clearing and he could turn around, coming to a harsh stop. He looked around, noticing that everyone was clearly shaken up.

As the four of you tried to calm down, you watched as a truck pulling a horse trailer stopped across the road. The horse trailer had been knocked open in the incident, with the horses running out. A young man and his parents got out of the truck, rushing to get the horses off the road.

“We should help them,” Charles suggested.

“No, we have to keep going,” Logan retorted. “Someone will come along.”

“Someone has come along.”

Logan looked your way, wanting to know your thoughts.

“I think it would do us some good to help someone else right now,” you told him.

With a sigh, Logan drove the truck across the lanes of traffic and parked it in front of the other truck. Charles rolled down the window and closed his eyes as you and Logan exited the truck. You watched as the horses all came back over and lined up in the trailer. Logan looked back over at Charles with a angry look. You caught it, slipping your hand into Logan’s and giving it a light squeeze. Laura slipped out of the car and stood a bit behind you two.

“Hey, uh, you need a hand?” Logan asked.

“Yeah,” the woman replied. “Our truck is stuck. After we get the horses in, we could really use some help getting it out.”

Once the horses were in the trailer, the woman got into the driver’s seat and turned on the truck to help reverse it. Logan and her husband got in front to push it while the son was helping from the side. Once they were all set, they started moving the truck back.

“Ah, good,” the husband patted the front as soon as the truck had moved to a good spot, “got it. Come on, let’s get home.”

“Laura! Y/N!” Logan called. The two of you were standing near the trailer, Laura looking at the horses.

“Thank you so much for your help,” the woman said. “I’m Kathryn.” She reached out her hand.

Logan shook it. “James.”

“This is my son, Nate.”

“Hi,” Nate said.

“Hey,” Logan responded.

“Is that your wife and daughter?” Kathryn asked.

“Uh, yeah, thats, uh—“

“I’m Y/N,” you walked up to Kathryn, “his wife. That’s our daughter Laura.”

“Yeah, and that’s my dad, Chuck,” Logan pointed to Charles in the truck, who waved. “Come on, Laura, let’s go.”

“Well, can we show our appreciation and treat the four of you to a decent meal?” Kathryn wondered. “We don’t live far from here.”

“Uh, no, thanks.”

“That would be lovely!” Charles exclaimed.

You stifled a giggle at the look Logan shot Charles. You walked over to Logan and took his hand. “As long as we aren’t a bother,” you told Kathryn.

“Of course not,” she said. “Just follow us home.”

~~~

“I don’t like this,” Logan grumbled as the table was being set. “We need to keep moving.”

“Logan, it’s just one night,” you told him. “No one would suspect us to stop somewhere like this.”

“Still.”

“Everybody, have a seat,” Kathryn said.

“James, why don’t you sit at the end of the table?” Will, Kathryn’s husband, suggested.

Will sat on one end while Logan took the opposite seat. Kathryn and Nate took one of the longer sides, while Charles, Laura, and you took the other.

“You wanna say grace?” Kathryn asked. “Say grace, baby.”

“Uh, thank you, God, for this food,” Nate said, “and for our new friends, the Howletts.

“Mmm. They came to our aid. Amen.”

“Amen,” you joined in with the rest in saying it.

Everyone began eating. Logan noticed quickly that Laura was stuffing the food into her mouth using her hands. He reached over and handed her, her fork. The bowl of corn got passed to her and she quickly began scooping. Logan took the bowl away before she could take it all. You bit your lip as you noticed how the others were watching you all.

“Oh, there’s plenty more if she wants,” Kathryn offered.

“She’s fine,” Logan said. “Thank you.”

“This is delicious,” Charles said.

“Oh, thank you,” Kathryn responded.

“It’s so good.”

“Where are you all headed?” Will asked.

“Uh, Oregon,” Logan said at the same time that Charles said, “South Dakota.”

“Well, Oregon and then South Dakota,” Charles corrected.

“Vacation?” Kathryn wondered.

“Uh, yes. Uh, long overdue. We’re city folk. Always wanted to take a road trip, see the country. And meet the people in it.”

“Well that sounds lovely. Been trying to get Will here to take a vacation for years now.”

“If we go traipsing all over the country, who’s gonna take care of this place?” Will retorted.

“Exactly. I say, let it go.”

“And live off what?”

“The Lord will provide.”

“I”m still waiting for the Lord to provide me with a new thresher.”

“All the same, I’d love to travel someday.”

“And I bet, you will,” Charles told her.

“I could drop out of school,” Nate offered.

“Okay, let’s not go that far,” Kathryn said.

“I mean, I’ll do it.”

“No, no.”

“Why not? You wanna travel, I wanna travel.”

“Son, son.”

“That sounds good to you, right?” Will asked.

“It’s the perfect plan,” said Nate.

“Why oddly you want to do that, Nate?” Charles wondered.

“Careful,” Logan spoke up, “you’re speaking to a man who ran a school for a lot of years. Right, Charles?”

“Really?” Will asked.

“Yes, it was a… it was a special needs school,” Charles said.

You tried not laugh at his description.

“Uh-huh. That’s a good description,” Logan smirked.

“He was there, too,” Charles pointed at Logan. “In fact, these two both were.”

“Yeah, I got kicked out a few times.”

“Some of them were by choice,” you spoke up, teasing him.

“I wish I could say you were a good pupil, but the words would choke me,” Charles said.

Everyone laughed, including Logan.

“Not that Y/N was much better,” Charles added.

“Wait, what?” You questioned.

“When Y/N first arrived at the school, she hid and refused to participate. Took me years to get her to do anything.”

“Hey, woah. Not years. Maybe one.”

“Whatever.”

The laughter and chatter continued until everyone was full. Logan stood up.

“Ma’am, I can’t thank you enough for this,” he said. “Uh, it was great. But we have a long drive ahead of us, so—“

“But you need to rest, don’t you?” Kathryn questioned.

“Yeah, we’ll find a motel somewhere.”

“The nearest one is two hours from here and it’s not even that nice,” Will said.

“We have a perfectly fine room upstairs for your father and your daughter if you don’t mind you and your wife sleeping in the living room on the convertible,” Kathryn offered.

“Kathryn, it’s very, very nice of you, but we really should go.”

“We can leave early in the morning,” Charles said. “Break of dawn, as it were.”

Logan looked at you, hoping that you’d side with him. You weren’t going to though. It was nice to interact with others and seem normal for a while.

“Okay,” Logan sighed, “why don’t we wash up, Pop?”

Logan pushed Charles away to the bathroom.

“Would you two like some dessert?” Kathryn offered.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” you replied.

“Of course not.”

“You all have been really kind to my family. Thank you.”

The water coming from the sink suddenly cut in and out.

“Oh, shit!” Will exclaimed.

“What’s going on?” Logan asked, stepping out of the bathroom.

“Nate, go fill up the tub before we lose pressure.”

“They shut if off again,” Kathryn said.

“They are just not going to let this thing go.”

“Well, you might as well handle it now.”

“It can wait till the morning. We just had rain last night.”

“We got four houseguests and a sink full of dishes.”

“Alright, alright.” Will turned to talk to Logan. “The pump station that supplies us is a mile and a half from here. Sometimes it gets itself shut off.”

“By assholes,” Nate added.

“My son is happy to go with you,” Charles offered.

“No, no, no, that’s fine,” Will said as Logan gave Charles a look of unbelief. “The men that do this, sometimes they can be—“

“I can go,” Nate said.

“No,” Kathryn said, “you’ve got homework.”

“Alright, I’ll go,” Logan said. “Just, uh, let me get my dad settled.”

He walked over to Charles and picked him up. Your heart broke as you could hear the strain in Logan’s breathing. You took Laura’s hand and followed Logan and Charles up the stairs to the open bedroom. Laura saw Nate in his room and opted to follow him.

“Behave,” you whispered to her with a smile before letting her go.

You peeked into the room, watching Logan get Charles tucked in. He held up a remote.

“Want TV?” Logan asked. “There’s TV here.”

“I’m fine,” Charles breathed out.

“Okay. Get some rest.”

“You know, Logan… this is what life looks like. A home, people who love each other. Safe place. You should take a moment and feel it. It’s been too long since you’ve had that.”

“Yeah It’s great.” You stepped back as Logan came to the door.

“Logan. Logan! You still have time.”

“Charles, the world is not the same as it was. We’re taking a risk hanging around here, you know that. And where we’re going, Eden… it doesn’t exist. Her nurse got it from a comic book. You understand? It’s not real.”

“It is for Laura… It is for Laura.”

“Get some rest.”

Logan walked out of the room, completely shutting the door, to find you there.

“What are we doing, Logan?” You asked quietly. “If you don’t believe that Eden is real, then where are we taking Laura? What are your plans with her?”

Logan sighed, coming up to you and placing his hands on your arms. He ran his hands down until he could hold your hands. “I… I’m trying here.”

“Try harder… for Laura, for Charles… for me. You need to decide if you believe in it and if you’re willing to trust that Eden will be a safe place for your daughter.”

“Do you believe in it?”

“I hope it’s real. For her sake.”

“Then I’ll try a little harder, okay?” You nodded, leaning into Logan. His hands dropped yours to wrap you in a hug. “I won’t be long.”

“Be safe.”

The two of you met for a brief kiss. You walked Logan down the stairs and watched as he and Will headed out to the fields. You saw Kathryn in living room, reading the pull-out bed.

“Thank you, again,” you told her.

“Of course,” she replied. “It seems like you all have had a long journey and need some good rest.”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“The bed’s all ready. Sleep well.”

Then Kathryn walked away. You crawled onto the bed and curled up, thinking of Logan. You heard footsteps just as you were about to fall asleep, the weight was familiar. Your back was facing towards the slow, on coming footsteps.

“Logan?” You whispered quietly, only to receive no verbal response.

A hand fell to your back, moving until it was above your beating heart.

“Logan, what are you—“

Quickly, the hand formed a fist and three metal claws entered your heart. The darkness came instantly.

~~~

When Logan and Will arrived back at the house, Logan went to the truck to try to calm down his coughing. A gunshot and screams had his head snapping in the direction of the house. Logan raced inside the best he could with his limp. Will was at the bottom of the stairs, claw marks through his chest. Logan looked up to see a copy of him—younger and less scarred—carrying a screaming and bound Laura down the stairs. Logan froze, only able to pant and stare as the copy of him walked past him, Laura still screaming.

“Charles!” Logan shouted up the stairs. “Y/N! Charles! Y/N!”

He used the railing to get him up the stairs faster. At the top of the stairs, he found Kathryn dead with Nate at the entrance of Charles’ room. He froze for a moment upon seeing Charles bloody and barely breathing in bed. Blood was running out of Charles’ mouth as he shakily reached for Logan.

When Logan finally broke out from his trance, he rushed over and used some of the bedding to pack Charles’ wound. He maneuvered Charles’ hands to be over the bedding.

“Hold this,” Logan whispered, fear coursing through his veins. “It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me.”

Logan picked Charles up carefully, still scanning the house for any sign of you. Charles let out a moan as he struggled to keep conscious.

“Just hold on, Charles,” Logan said.

Logan went out the side door and rushed Charles over to the truck, placing him in the bed.

“I’ll be back,” Logan promised, before going back inside. “Y/N! Y/N!”

Suddenly, his nose got whiff of a familiar scent. Your blood. He rushed for the living room, where the pull out bed was out. There was a large bloody stain on it, but no you. There was no sign of your fire or your smoke or your ashes. Logan’s heart hammered in his chest as he continued to find no sign of you in the house. Logan stammered out of the house to hear more screaming and gunshots. He saw his duplicate self killing the men who turned off the water. There was a military grade truck past his duplicate. Logan noticed Laura on the ground but when he his moved, his breath caught in his throat.

They had you in a glass box, like Snow White or a doll. There was blood on you and Logan could tell from where he was standing that you weren’t breathing.

“Charles!” Logan exclaimed quietly. He went back over and pressed on the wounds. “Hold this down, right now, tight!”

“Save them,” Charles whispered. “I’m… sorry…”

“What?”

“Go…” Then Charles heart stopped.

“No.”

Rage grew inside Logan. How dare they create a duplicate version of him and have him kill you and Charles? He had to get to you before they did anything. Suddenly, the military truck blew up, throwing the glass case you were in forward, crashing next to Laura. The glass broke. Logan needed to move fast. He knew that if you went up in flames and your ashes were separated, there would be no coming back for you. He wouldn’t be able to continue on the rest of his short life without you.

Logan snuck up on his duplicate as the duplicate marched towards you and Laura. With each grunt, he plunged his claws into the duplicate. But his copy made no move to fight back, just walking backwards with each hit. Logan plunged both sets of claws into the copy.

“What the hell are you?” He grunted.

The duplicate stabbed Logan in the shoulder and tossed him over to the ground. Logan shielded himself with his claws before the duplicate could do it again. Every muscle and bone was straining with Logan, but he couldn’t stop. Not when you weren’t safe. Logan jumped back up and continued fighting, but the duplicate was better, stronger. The copy kept making hits, causing Logan to yell out in pain.

Eventually, the duplicate had Logan pinned against a large tractor tire. Before it could make the final kill, Will’s truck rammed into the duplicate, pinning it against the fence. Will stumbled out of the truck with his gun, shooting into the duplicate multiple times. Once Will believed the duplicate to be dead, he turned his gun on Logan, but couldn’t do anything before he fell to the ground, dead.

Laura’s shrieking continued as she laid bound beside your dead body. Logan stumbled over to the two of you, bloody and bruised. He knew that you needed to get someplace safe, but he also knew that you would never forgive him for leaving Laura. He grabbed Laura and carried her over to the truck, placing her into the seat next to his before turning to get you.

As he knelt beside you to pick you up, the tears fell. The three punctures over your heart was enough to tell him that his copy had done this to you. He groaned as he picked you up and cradled you against him.

“It wasn’t me,” he whispered, like him saying that would wake you. “It wasn’t me.”

He carried you to the truck and slipped you into the back seat. Laura turned around and saw Charles dead in the bed of the trunk and you dead in the back seat. Her shrieking got worse as she fought against her bindings. Logan turned on the truck and sped off into the fields. Laura thrashed around, trying to free herself. With a shaky hand, Logan released his claws.

“Hold still,” he told her, moving the claws over to her cuffs. “Hold still.”

He cut through the bindings and quickly put away his claws, focusing on driving through the field. Laura crawled into the back seat and placed your head on her lap. Logan glanced at her through the rearview mirror, not missing the tear that slipped down her cheek.

next chapter >

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max-the-many · 2 days ago

Note

When I saw this pic I didn't think twice. We were sending guys back and forth that we liked. With this one, I was hooked. Sometomes it just is like that.After a quick google, I got more and more curious.

So Felix Dolci it was, a gymnast! I didn't have one of those in a while, let alone someone like him. And when I found out that he would have a competition just the following weekend it felt like destiny. Or in other words, I couldn't think of a better way to spend the following days but to get on with this.

I booked a flight within minutes. More wasn't necessary as I would find my ways when I was there even though it would be several days before the competition. To put it quick - I simply arranged some hookup, sporting a good hunk I gathered a while ago to have a bit of excitement bdfore I switched into the guy I met, having his flat to stay in for now.

When it was time for the competition I got in to get to know the situation. Seeing aall of those gymnasts really got me going, allthough Felix was nowhere to be seen.

After a while I decided to look around a bit more, getting out of the facility at some point, circling the for some opportunities.

At a back door it seemed like I found exactly what I needed when a guy came out, carrying a bag to through into some bins.

As no one else was to be seen, I got closer, asking that middleaged guy in jeans and shirt some silly questions before I found a moment to place my pointy friend into his neck.

Now it was just a matter of moments for him to get ready between the bins. It wasn't exactly fully covered, but I didn't mind getting naked while waiting, making sure to shut the backdoor with his keys no have no unnecessary risk.

He was rather average in build, even cute in a way, exciting as always, when I stepped into his empty hull until I let out a first grunt when my voice adjusted.

Cloth back on I got inside the building, roaming around to get a sense of the situation until I got a glimpse of a blonde guy some feet away. There he was, Felix Dolci, wearing a training suit, probably on his way to do his routine.

I followed, making sure not to get too mich attention, watching him on the sides of the competition area.

It would take quite a while until he was finished, until he even got started. So I had time. And as I saw another participand head away from the area, I decided to see, what he was up to.

I ended up following him until he entered what seemed like some kind of locker room. So without thinking too long I just entered aswell.

The room wasn't that big, surrouded with benches as you would expect with some other dudes besides the one I followed, dressed in similar attire.

I just left when I saw that as there was nothing to be done for me. But with this I figured, I might find something more useful than this guy I slipped in which was most likely some kind of janitor.

So I continued entering random rooms, mostly locker rooms, some empty, most of them used bye several athletes. More and more my itch to become one of them rose, those well built guys, not few of them quite handsome.

Eventually I entered another empty room. But just as I wanted to leave, a guy aqueezed himself passed me, causing a big smile to grow on my face.

So I entered right after him, reaching into my pocket to pull out another syringe before placing it onto his spandex-covered hips, pushing him across the room while he sank into my grip to get him sitting at the end of an area connecting the lockers to the showers.

I was quite pumped while waiting, not only because I craved for that change as there could be someone coming in at any point.

But I was lucky, eventually getting undressed, slipping out of the janitor to step into this young, well built athlete, admittedly sporting quite some excitement on the way, hot for some nice release in the showers.

But it was not the moment for that as the hollowed out janitor wouldn't make for a good company to be found with.

So I fiddled him back into his clothes to leave him after inserting the antidote just to enter the next best room besides him.

It wasn't empty, but I really didn't care, undressed myself to get into the showers despite several guys obvious beeing irritated to have me in there room.

But mobidy said anything so I made sure to have a good welcome session in the showers, hardly covering my pleasures.

When I got out, i felt a bit nervous. What, if my delay was too much, what if I wouldn't have an opportunity to get, what I was here for? I felt a bit guilty, but in the end. It wasn't like I owed anything to anybody but myself. Even the guy that started all this had no idea as I didn't tell him anything about my plans.

Luckily Felix still was where he was before although it looked like he maybe would soon do his routines or maybe had done them already as he had put off the training suit.

But this was quickly answered when he approached the parallel bars to get ready.

It was perfect to see him like that, to see him doing those impressive excercises! And there were quite some good ones to be seen. Those muscles at play, his determined looks.

When he returned to the side if the area I wandered close to him, eventually starting a chat to find out, what he would be doing further to find out, when he would be finished.

As we spoke of that I wondered what the guy I slipped in would be supposed to do, gerting a bit nervous as I really wasn't in the mood to give anything like that a shot, ready to switch into another one if necessary.

Turned out, though, he wasn't even participating when a trainer approached to have a chat, making sure that he did well, not able to perform due to some recovery issues. Of cause I was more than happy to tell that everything was fine. Everything indeed.

What a nice guy. So caring. And to be honest, quite a candidate for me aswell. But I retained myself, despite several thoughts of me playing wuth the trainer in some backroom. I really would have loved to fool around woth him a bit. But I had other plans.

And they would soon to get on going when finally Felix put on his training suit again, heading off with another athlete and a trainer. I followed with some distance, watched as they talked a bit infront of the lockers before they split, the athletes heading along the lockers until eventually entering one of them.

So did I, causing a bit of irritation.

"Randy, isn't it" the guy with Felix said which I anserwed with a smile, excusing my intrusion with some heavy compliments towards Felix, starting a chat about his routine while the other guy opened a dufflebag before making himself ready for the showers.

It wasn't exactly easy to keep up conversation especially as I got more and more excited. Then finally the guy went off to the showers, the room still empty otherwise so I decudedvto just go for it, pulling out the syringe I fiddled with in my pocket, rushing it towards Felix neck in plain sight. And it worked, giving him no chance to react before the serum got to work, making his eyes go blank and his body go limb before I dragged him to the same corner as the guy before.

But then I hesitated, wondered what next before I turned towards the showers, getting in without a second thought before approaching the other guy, having his face towards the gushing water so I pearced his hips without any issues at all.

Another thought went bye before I dragged him to join Felix, looked around before I gathered spme towels to cover them. I really didn't want this to go downhill now, stepping from one foot to the other, looking back and fprth between the door and this suspicious pile of towels until I figured, it was time.

Gosh, was I lucky, pulling out the naked, still wet hull of that secobd guy to get him into the showers, change into him before I placed Felix neatly into one of the duffle bags, bursting with a sense of accomplishment until I left.

"Your up for a date" I texted to @axeeglitter, sending a nice selfie on the side. I really wanted to keep the contend of my bag a secret up to the last moment...

#male skinsuit #male bodysuit

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omnium-gatherums · 2 days ago

Text

My apologies for being incapable of having short responses, ha.

For one, this post is mainly addressing a common sentiment I've been seeing throughout the years online with regards to DID about people seeming to think that seeing alters, say, have their own names and Tumblr side blogs and pronouns and profiles as a bad thing.

A lot of people see alters expressing themselves online and will fake-claim that system, will claim that this is "glorifying" DID or "romanticizing" it.

I see this CONSTANTLY! I see this on Tumblr, I see it on Reddit, I'm certain it's on plenty of other websites I don't use.

Because these types of people have a grave misunderstanding of what DID is, how it works, what and who alters even ARE. They see alters as the side thing that just happens to DID, when the person with DID is always an alter. These people will sit here and act like the mere act of, say, me expressing and introducing myself online as a specific alter and they'll look at that and fake-claim and act like it's romanticizing or glorifying DID and, pray tell, I just have to ask these people what part of me am I allowed to express? Do you see DID as "the host, and then the alters" and you think I'm a host right now, and it's acceptable to express myself because you think I'm a host, as if "host" is "the main/actual/real person" and not just another alter? What part of me is acceptable to express? What part of me is allowed to be expressed, online or not, and which parts of me aren't?

I never brought up anything about covert or overt, and that's actually for a very specific reason (the tags mentioned covert/overt, but that was that person specifically, not us). We haven't said a single thing about overt or covert in this entire post, and this is actually partially why - what I'm saying and what I'm talking about is being incorrectly conflated with meaning "Being Overt" or "being separate, distinct People" when that isn't what I was saying or implying. Being covert or overt has nothing to do with this.

I'm talking about alters expressing themselves, and I think this is incorrectly being conflated to meaning overt or meaning "distinct, separate people" when that's not what it means.

Let's take away the DID and alter stuff for a moment:

Humans express themselves through many ways - we express ourselves with our names and having our own hobbies and interests, yes, but we also express ourselves just in terms of, like. Talking to a friend about the stress we're going through.

When you, as a person with DID, are expressing yourself - by talking about your trauma to your therapist; by communicating with the different parts in your system; by allowing parts to simply BE who they are instead of suppressing them and trying to hide them - it is alters expressing themself.

That means nothing about whether or not those parts exist with a separate name, separate hobbies, or just generally are their own "distinct person."

Remember my example with my part 'Tea' - I came into therapy one day, very excitable, energetic. I felt embarrassed for Being The Way I Was in that moment and my brain switched to someone else almost immediately, because of that embarrassment.

Months later (or even a year later, I don't even know anymore lmfao), I came into therapy pretty energetic and excitable again. But this time, I felt safer and more comfortable. We didn't switch to another part out of embarrassment, I felt safe to be myself in that moment.

This is what I mean.

Overt/covert has nothing to do with it.

What self-expression means to me is going to be different from other people, and what self-expression means to them is going to be different from me. For us, it means allowing ourselves to exist as we are and not trying to force us into a closed-off box of "Being One Person." For you, maybe it means simply ripping up paper to express anger (i.e. a specific part in your system ripping up paper to express the anger they feel). And that's still self-expression, and that's GOOD!

I will clarify, though, that my second addition/reblog was more talking about my personal thing about our own journey, just as an added ramble-conversation to do with what the tags said. It was not meant to be applied to other people - I did feel that that person's tags were important, but it's not meant to be a generalized Rule of "everybody with DID must be like this to heal." I did not feel the need to put disclaimers about "just to be clear, this isn't about covertness or overtness, and being covert or overt has nothing to do with this" because it didn't feel necessary, but to clarify:

Being "overt" does NOT mean "lower dissociative barriers"

Being "covert" does NOT mean "higher dissociative barriers"

Alters expressing themselves does NOT mean "overt"

Having lowered dissociative barriers simply means communication between parts has improved, amnesia has been lowered, etc.

Whether or not a system is "covert" or "overt" is less to do with dissociative barriers, although it CAN play a role, whether or not a system is "covert" or "overt" is actually more dependent on that specific person - their life, the trauma they went through, the environments they were raised in.

Nearly every single ""OVERT"" system I have known have had very specific life experiences that have lead them to develop this presentation. When you hear about these systems and they explain things about their life, how they were raised, their trauma, it becomes clear that the presentation their DID took the form of had way more to do with their personal, specific life experiences and less to do with anything about how high or low their dissociative barriers were. Although, yes, again, that CAN play a role, but not as big of a role as you might assume - MANY, MANY "overt" systems have very high dissociative barriers.

To be a bit more clearer: alters expressing themselves can give an idea of whether or not a system is "overt" or "covert" (I think this terms are shaky and muddy and blurry anyways and ultimately don't think they're very helpful, but that's a discussion for another day), but alters expressing themselves doesn't mean anything about being overt. It just means expressing themselves, and that can be in "big" ways (having your own name, pronouns, and personal hobbies and interests) or "small" ways (allowing yourself to express your anger in a healthy way; talking to your therapist about trauma and finally feeling safe enough to do so, etc.).

It took awhile to write this post, and I hope this helps.

"DID is most often hidden and unnoticeable" as in "MANY symptoms of DID, including the symptom of switching from one alter to another, are easily passed off as something else more 'normal' and not readily understood as switching from one alter to another" but you people seem to think that it means "alters don't really have differences actually and if you're allowing yourselves as different alters to know yourselves and express yourselves, you're lying/faking/wrongly self-diagnosed/glorifying DID/romanticizing DID-"

What part of dissociative IDENTITY disorder don't you understand?

You see someone with DID simply existing as themselves (alters existing as themselves) and see someone faking or roleplaying DID or wrongly self-diagnosing or "making DID their whole identity" when really it is literally no different from somebody expressing a side of themself to a friend that they otherwise feel scared to express. It is literally just self-expression.

Tea is an alter in my system who is extremely hyperactive, energetic, exciteable. She stands out. And one of the first times she was fronting in therapy, when I was noticing how different I was and how hyperactive I was, I felt embarrassed and switched immediately. And then many months later, the next time Tea was fronting, and me and our therapist realized it was her who was fronting, we didn't switch! We/she, felt safe and okay enough to behave the ways she does. I didn't switch in order to not behave in those "weird" ways, and I didn't try to suppress the ways I wanted to behave and just Be.

This is huge! It was a huge thing for us in that therapy session. And we've only been continuing our journey with finding ourselves, finding out who we are, and allowing myself to "be" "different."

Alters expressing themselves differently is merely allowing yourself the right to self-expression. It is allowing yourself to truly "be cringe." It is allowing yourself to know yourself. To know who you really are. It is an important and huge aspect of recovery with DID.

Alters are not Nothing, that is an entire aspect of this brain's identity that could not integrate into the rest of the brain's identity.

You people continue to see DID as "the actual person versus the alters that just influence that Real person" when it is more like "all of us are That Real Person. That Real Person is different alters sometimes" like people will say these things about DID being treated like an "identity quirk" just because you see an alter expressing themself when in reality what you are doing is not that different from someone making fun of some kid because they're pretending to be a cat.

You are seeing somebody with DID merely expressing an aspect of their identity, merely expressing themself, and that's bad to you because you continue to incorrectly view DID as "the actual, real person and their alters" when those alters ARE "the real person", just dissociated into its own box.

You continue to see "The actual person, the Host, who is actually a person, oh they can express themselves! :)" but it's suddenly bad when it's not what you think is "the host/the Real/Actual Person" because, again, you people are continuing to incorrectly view alters as these Side things that just pop up and they can't self-express or have their own names or have hobbies and interests or Tumblr side blogs and act like that's bad and it means someone is "roleplaying DID" or faking or "romanticizing" when it is LITERALLY, and I mean this SO literally. It is LITERALLY just expressing another side of yourself.

#💛

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