#oh i know what it is! to just fucking shut up and take our abuse and never talk about it ever

[luxiomahariel]

cant find the post im thinking about anymore though i believe the reblogs were turned off for it anyway so gonna recap because im thinking about it again

the idea that trans men and transmasc people who were raised as girls dont suffer from an intersection of both transphobia and misogyny is frankly wild. you are talking about people who were quite literally raised with misogyny hurled towards us and think that just suddenly turns off because we """decided""" to be men??

but to then continuously call us transmisogyny exempt when you define transmisogyny as being the intersection of both transphobia and misogyny is also absolutely fucking wild

and to go EVEN FURTHER you shit talk about us using the term transandrophobia to describe our own experiences. because either you want to forcibly misgender us by saying that what we're actually dealing with is transmisogyny (WE ARE NOT WOMEN SO DONT CALL US THAT in this roundabout fucked up way) or we're transmisogyny exempt. which one is it.

why cant you all just let us have a term we can use thats not transmisogyny to tag and share our personal experiences with each other and with the world so we're not constantly fucking invisible to the rest of the queer community with the kind of specific struggles we face. because we dont want to use the term transmisogyny because IT MISGENDERS US. AND TRANSANDROPHOBIA OR ANTI TRANSMASCULINITY ARE BOTH MUCH MORE USEFUL TO SPECIFICALLY US.

[iwriteyanderes2023]

Yandere Socialite (Fem! Yandere x Fem! Reader)

Divider credits: @/anitalenia

Trigger warning: Violence, drama between friends, profanity usage, yandere themes, name-calling, sexual harassment, power abuse. Choking, pet play, humiliation, drugging, sexual scenes, bondage play, female on female

(8941 words)

You regretted agreeing to this.

Your friends were raving about this massive party, where all the hottest celebrities and the wealthy go to flaunt or make a fool out of themselves. Obviously, it was an exclusive event, no mere commoners could simply walk in. To enter, it's either paying an extravagant fee or be (in)famous enough. Which, you were neither.

They claimed to know how to sneak in, undetected by the burly bouncers that you would rather not be the receiving end of their anger. It made sense to have some tight security, it is taking place in someone's mansion; someone's home, after all.

You, being new in this city and desperate to make connections to you could advance your career, said yes. You stupidly said yes, put on your best clubbing outfit and makeup, and went through with your friend's plan to slip in through one of the back doors while the other distracted whoever was around to hinder the plans.

Which leads you to be lost in a seemingly unending maze of hallways, you don't know where the other girls went and you don't know where you are. There wasn't a single soul wandering around the carpeted floor and chandeliered ceilings. Elegant paintings of men and women in dignified poses seem to peer at you in disgust; a filthy commoner dressed like a tramp. You didn't belong here, and it's only a matter of time before you were thrown into jail thanks to the recorded footage from the surveillance cameras you're sure were pointed at you.

You covered your arms with your hands as you moved onward, cussing under your breath about how silly it was to wear a ridiculously tall heel. It's already giving you blisters, so you decide to take them off and walk barefoot; silently and dryly sobbing about how humiliating this feels.

You continued trundling on, periodically looking back and trying to see where the life of the party is at so you could at least witness how it's like. Perhaps make a few connections, but you think that's unlikely. Most of them are probably drunk out of their mind or high off coke to care.

Actually, what are you even doing here? You're supposed to be networking at a classy, evening soiree, not a rich boy's messy party!

Before you could sigh again, you were interrupted by the sounds of yelling in a room nearby.

"Get off me, fucker!" You heard an enraged feminine voice shout out before the sounds of crashing reached your ears. Groaning could be heard as you assume the other party was shuffling to get up.

"You fucking bitch!" Retorted a masculine voice, followed by more stumbling. "What the hell is wrong with you!?"

"We're over. Get the fuck out of my sight!" She yelled, but it doesn't sound like she was too hurt over it. It's more anger if anything.

"What...? Just like that?! After everything that I've done-"

"All you did was embarrass me over and over again! Like, does it kill you to take a shower? Does it kill you not to be an entitled, gross loser all the time?"

You inched closer to the door and discreetly poked your head in. You saw the back of a woman with the most gorgeous blond hair draping down to her tailbone. She's wearing a silver sequin dress that barely covers the fold of her bum.

The male, slightly drunk and injured from the shove with debris around him, was glaring at the blonde.

"Shut up, slut! If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't get to live like this!" He threateningly pointed at her, but she didn't budge.

"Oh? You mean that monthly allowance of fifty bucks from you? Please, I pick up my dogs' crap with it. That's how worthless you are to me, I'm only tolerating you because I'm doing your mommy a favour." She fought back, her words enraged the man even further.

"You can forget the deal our families had! I'll make sure the Maciovelli name goes to shit, you will be living on the streets before you know it!" He yelled right in front of her face, getting up close and personal; and having his stray spit hit her. She merely wiped them away.

"Ugh, you're insufferable. Whatever, I'd like to see you try, bitch." She hissed before shoving him away again.

But this proved to be a dangerous move, as it provoked the man to lunge and swing his arm at her. Luckily though, it seems she has predicted it and dodged his attack on time.

You had to do something! And so, you looked around as the pair went on to physically fight. Though, it's more like she's doing all the defense while he does the offense. Sometimes blocking his hits with her red handbag.

There is a vase nearby, decorated with intricate, hand-painted flowers. Without thinking, you picked it up and chucked it at the man. The antiquity of that piece of art be damned, that woman is in danger and you have to do something to help her!

She visibly jolted when it flew past some strands of gold and crashed onto her assailant's head, spraying shards everywhere and making small cuts on her legs. He was thrown backward and rendered unconscious almost immediately.

The woman whipped her head back to see the source of it, staring at you with wide, baby-blue eyes. You stared back at her breathtakingly stunning face; she had thin, sharp brown eyebrows that accentuated her fox-like eyes. Long, black eyelashes framed her iris as smokey makeup made her eyes look much bigger and lively. Her lips were glossy and in a shade of pastel pink, with a dusting of sparkly glitter.

You stammered, not knowing what to do or say. You're not even supposed to be here. So you remained silent as you and her continued this staring contest, the woman's eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe.

She began walking towards you, her heels menacingly clicking against the marbled floor of that room. You felt a surge of panic course through you, so you took a few steps back.

Only to be grabbed by the shoulder by someone else behind you. Chills ran down your spine when you heard the familiar sound of a walkie-talkie beeping. "I found one of the trespassers."

You started panicking even more, speaking erratically to try and defend your case. But the security officer wouldn't hear it, instead restraining you and pulling you away from the scene. You thrashed and screamed, not wanting to get caught and end your life as soon as it started. "I need backup!" Shouted the guard into his device as he tried to wrangle you into his grip.

You shouldn't have agreed to them, look what it has gotten you into. Your life is so over, you're going to be shoved into a jail cell and forced to move back to where you came from. If only you could-

"Hey, you fatass!" You saw her red, crescent handbag whack the officer in the arm, he flinched in surprise. "Hands off my best friend! And who the fuck do you think you are, calling her a trespasser!?"

A look of surprise crosses his face. "Miss Maciovelli? She's with you?" The officer took a look at you, there wasn't an aura of money emanating from you, not like how the woman was.

You looked back at the woman, now putting her hands on her hips. An irate expression adorns her face, "Um, yeah? I just said it, are you fucking slow? Let her go right now!" She demanded, raising the volume of her voice as her patience was running thin.

He sighed and released his hold on you. The man brought his walkie-talkie up to his mouth and said that it was a false alarm and that there wasn't a need for more of them to come over. They should focus on finding the rest of the intruders, which you can guess that they were referring to your friends.

"I'm sorry, Miss Maciovelli-"

"Yeah, you better be." She spat as she hooked her arm around yours. "Insulting my girl like that- why don't you all actually do your jobs and kick the real troublemakers out? Like that pig there, taking a nap on the floor. He tried to hit me and my best friend!" The blonde pointed her ivory-white acrylic nail to her bleeding ex, who seemed to be slowly regaining consciousness.

His eyes widened as he seemed to recognize the waking man. "O-oh! That's-!"

Before he could finish his sentence, the woman dragged you away from the scene. Pushing you by the shoulders and pulling you by the hand. You looked behind you to see the security guard entering the room while frantically speaking into his walkie-talkie.

"You're new. What's your name?" You were snapped out of your frazzled trance when she spoke. Her pace was slowing into a leisurely walk when she deemed it safe enough. The blonde's arm was still linked around yours, though.

Her baby blues curiously stared at you, all that malice and rage she held earlier was gone. Replaced with friendliness with a bit of wariness.

You told her your name and stumbled over your words trying to explain your situation as fast as possible. You made sure to thank her for saving you.

"Your friends are gross for abandoning you like that." She scowled. "I hate fake bitches like them, they should like, get shot in the head or something."

Your mouth gape open at her extreme remarks. Is this how socialites usually talk?

You defended your friends, telling her that they didn't abandon you. They probably just lost you as everyone scrambled to hide from security.

"Yeah, you're definitely new here. They knew what they were doing. You came with five others, at least one should be hiding from security with you." She brought you into a grandiose bathroom. The blonde finally lets you go and approaches the vanity. "Those sluts used you."

Miss Maciovelli pulled a tube of lip gloss from her mini handbag and began doing touchups. You simply watched her, not knowing what to say. Well, you should have seen it coming. Big city dwellers are known to be cutthroat, and you just met them.

"Sorry babe, but that's the reality here." She smacked her lip and wiped away any imperfections with her thumb.

You scratched the back of your head. You asked her if she could show you the exit, it's been a long night and you want to go home.

"You don't wanna stay for a little?" She asked, turning to you. "You're hot, I'm sure you'll have fun. I'll get rid of those snakes for you, if that's what's holding you back."

You shook your head, feeling exhausted after everything you went through today. You asked her if she's going back to the party, wherever that may be in this mansion.

"Duh." She bobbed her head.

There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. Until she decided to fish her phone out.

"Number." She extended her hand and brought her phone, numpad side to you.

You picked it up and entered your phone number. It's saved under your name, but you doubt that she will remember you after today.

"Oh, so that's how you spell it." She mumbled, looking at the contact name.

You watch her keep her device away before fixing her hair in the mirror again. She used a nail to adjust her eyelashes.

"Okay, let's go." She linked her arm around yours again, escorting you out of the bathroom.

You and she walked past numerous rooms and halls, some had excited shouts coming from them, some had salacious moaning and some had loud booming music. When you were nearing the core of the alcohol-fueled rave, the noise from massive speakers was nearly unbearable. You even had to cover your ears in order not to blow your drums out. But the woman didn't even flinch, she continued strutting along with you in tow.

You saw men and women feverishly dancing along to the beat, the surroundings were dark and illuminated by colorful strobe lights. Good thing you weren't epileptic.

"Heyy..."

You turned your head to see one of your friends. She's wasted beyond belief. "You... you made it! C'mere, I want you to meet-"

"Fuck off, whore!" Barked Miss Maciovelli, she yanked you along with her. Ignoring the expletives coming out from your friend's slurring mouth.

You asked if that was really necessary.

"Yep. They won't get the hint if you're this nice." She answered. "They'll keep trying until you're dragged down to their level. Don't ever disrespect yourself like that." She sternly warned you.

All you could do was nod meekly.

Eventually, you reached the exit. It's as grand and fancy as it was on the inside. You see a massive water fountain in the middle of a looped road. Yet, no cars could be seen but there were hoards of security milling around.

"Wait here." She left you on the marble steps as she approached a uniformed staff member. You watched them exchange some words before she marched back to you.

You thought that this was the end of your meeting with her. So you told her thanks and bid her goodbye while referring to her as Miss Maciovelli. She scrunched her nose up in disgust.

"Ew. That's so fake. Don't call me that." She crosses her arms over her chest, and you can see pale tan lines on her skin.

You asked what you should call her instead.

"Mercedes." She replied immediately. "You know, the car."

You told her that it's a beautiful name. She smiled and flipped her hair.

You told her that you better get going, it's late. Mercedes narrowed her eyes at you and grabbed your wrist.

"And how are you going to do that? It's an hour's drive from here to the city."

You said you were going to take the bus, that's how you got here in the first place. Worst come to worst, you would call a cab.

She shook her head defiantly.

"I'm driving you home, no way am I trusting those weirdos to bring you anywhere."

You told her that you would be fine and that you didn't want to be a hassle. To that, she rolled her eyes.

"Ugh, shut up." Mercedes punched your arm playfully.

A hot pink convertible then rolled up in front of the two of you. Its headlights are heart-shaped, you thought it was cute. "Miss Maciovelli?" Said the parking Valet.

"C'mon, don't be difficult." She urged you to get in through the passenger's side.

"This is your place?" She asked with a tone of incredulity. "Looks... plain."

You wouldn't call it plain. It's small but cozy. It's also all you can afford at the moment with your job, that's why you were planning to network around to get better opportunities.

"Hm." She hummed, releasing her grip on her pink, fluffy steering wheel to fix her hair.

You got out of her car and said goodbye. She didn't say a word but watched you get to the front door.

You look behind you to see her staring, so you wave bye. But she neither budged nor returned the gesture. Simply staring at you like a hawk. Feeling a bit creeped out, you went into the lobby.

Only then did she drive away. What a strange woman.

You sighed and trudged to the lift, pressing the button and resting your forehead on the cold, metallic panel. Well. There goes your only contacts in the city, they're all not good for you.

You didn't even get to know Mercedes's number, so until she texts you first, you're completely alone.

The lift opened to reveal no one. As usual. You don't think you've seen your neighbors yet, thinking they're either avoiding you, extremely busy, or extremely reclusive. Or living in an entirely different timezone.

When you reached your room, you decided to boot up your computer. While waiting for it to be functional, you did something else; preparing the things you need for a relaxing bath and boiling some water for tonight's five-star dinner: instant noodles.

You spent the night researching Mercedes, only searching her first name predictably bringing up results of the luxury car brand with the same name. But as soon as you searched for Mercedes Maciovelli, you began learning a lot about her.

She is the heiress of a very successful, multi-billion conglomerate company. Her family owns more businesses than you can count in two hands, they're also huge and famous companies. Banks, grocery stores, and even planes. It's scary how her family possesses this much power. That was such a silly thing for her ex to say, that if it wasn't for him, she would have been in poverty. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment.

However, she is no stranger to paparazzi as she frequently mingles with high-profile celebrities, gets into physical altercations, and goes wild in nightclubs. She is nothing like what was expected of her as someone who grew up in "old money". She's associated with words like "bitchy", "fiesty", "trashy" and "Messy". Whereas her peers barely have any information available about them online, they stay out of trouble and act too elegant for the paparazzi and tabloids to take any interest.

The most interesting bit about Mercedes was her dating life. Your eyes bulged out of your skull, seeing the seemingly unending list of boyfriends she had over the years. It's almost like she has a new one every month, but there are never repeats. Articles, gossip pieces, and smear forums about Mercedes are just so prevalent, that you think you're getting a cramp on your finger by just scrolling your mouse.

In the end, you're sick of seeing the public bash the blonde. It gets old and you're becoming tired. Perhaps aging has already caught up to you, but you cannot stay up past 12.

You decided to shut your computer off and head to bed.

It's been a few days since that party. Your "friends" kept texting you, trying to get you to join one more of their trespassing escapades. You gave them excuses upon excuses because you're not interested in such a lifestyle.

"Aw, don't be such a lame-o," Drawled one of the girls as she shook your shoulder. "Come on, it'll be fun! You had fun!"

The other girls continued egging you on in this expensive cafe. You were already uncomfortable meeting them here, as you can barely afford the cheapest of their pastries. At least the ambiance looks amazing in photos. If only you owned a digital camera...

You let out a nervous chuckle as you tried to decline as much as you could without offending them.

"There's another one tonight! You should totally come with us, I got like, the routes and everything already!"

"Yeah, think of the cute guys that's going to be there!"

"OMG, I heard Retro Rhymes are going to be there!"

"Really!? The rapper!?"

You sighed as they chatted amongst themselves. You silently picked at your muffin with your fork, that was the cheapest thing on the menu and the price was enough to give you eight of these back home.

Eventually, they must have forgotten your existence. Because they continued talking until they left the building. Not saying a bye or sparing a glance in your direction. Leaving you to sit at your table alone and brooding.

Well. You shouldn't expect much when it comes to friendships here. Many people come to the city solely to make money and have fun, after all. Not so much finding true, lifelong connections.

You took a sip of your black coffee. Again, the cheapest thing you could get from there. You couldn't even afford sugar or milk with it.

Suddenly, a manicured hand slammed a cup onto your table, shocking you and making you accidentally spill some of your drink onto your blouse.

"You should try this, it's so good. Way better than your boring-ass black coffee, I bet." You recovered from your initial shock to crane your head up to see Mercedes staring down at you from above, her soft, golden hair falling to your face.

You greeted her, asking what she was doing here.

"I could ask the same of you, seeing that you're pretty broke. But I saw how you still hung out with those sluts even after I told you not to." She cocked an eyebrow as an unimpressed look crossed her face.

Today, she wears a simple, lacey crop top and a pair of low waisted jeans. You got to know that she had her belly button pierced.

You sighed once more, burying your face in your hands. You told her you don't have a choice, it's a cold world out here and you need someone to fulfill that human need for socialization. Now that you have calmed down, you decided to take a better look at the drink she gave you.

It's a tall, plastic cup with a dome cover. It's an ice-blended, creamy mocha with chocolate syrup drizzled on the sides of the cup. It has a healthy dollop of whipped cream on top and a thick straw is sticking out of its opening.

"Um, hello? You have me." She moved away from you and took a seat next to you, she ordered the same thing. Mercedes shook it around before taking a sip. "You don't need them anymore, I'll be showing you the ropes."

You thought about it for a while. There is definitely a non zero chance that she will play you like a fiddle, but it's much better to have someone high up there in the hierarchy. Even though she isn't necessarily a mature businesswoman yet, you would still have a better chance to brush shoulders with relevant people. Not... Partygoers.

So then, you agreed. Picking up your cup and taking your first sip.

It was tooth-rotting. It was good, but you knew if it wasn't for sugar, this cup would not even be filled to half. The sheer sweetness of the treat made you grimace and pucker.

"What? Don't like it?" She asked, looking bored.

You said it was nice, but a bit too sweet.

"That's the point. I like it sweet." She took another sip from her drink. "Keeps me full for hours."

You... Don't think that's how it works. Isn't it usually the opposite effect? Whatever.

For the next few hours, you and her chat about almost everything and anything. Ranging from each other's histories, to each other's interests, to oddly philosophical questions and personal views on things. There were quite a few differences between you and Mercedes- obviously so, as she was raised by the uber rich and you were raised by... Your guardians, but you liked how she kept her mind open and was non-judgemental about you.

It was refreshing, really. Someone you could somewhat be real with, unlike your previous set of friends where you had to put on the most guarded mask in order not to feel like a pathetic lowlife around them.

You were curious about her dating habits, but you think it's rude to ask about it this early on in the friendship. Plus, it never came up, so you decided to save that question for another day. You bet if she's willing to open up, it will take more than just a few hours.

It's getting late, you should leave.

So you stood up, secretly in disbelief at how you finished the entire thing of diabetes. You told Mercedes that you have work tomorrow and you're going to need to leave soon.

She frowned. "Boo. Boring."

You said that you have to be "boring", you don't have her type of money.

"And it's literally just six in the evening. It's not like it's six in the morning or something." She huffed.

You said you have been in this cafe for seven hours.

"They don't close til 10."

Still, you have to get back home. You're tired.

She stuck her tongue out at you.

"Fine. But I'm driving you home."

You said there isn't a need for her to do that, you could take the bus.

"Let's go, you need your beauty sleep." She ignored you and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you along with her so quickly that you struggled to keep up.

Weeks would go by and you would meet Mercedes every Sunday in a different cafe of her choosing. And these meetings would increase in frequency each week, to a point where you were eating all three meals with her daily. She would always foot the bill and refused to let you pay for anything, talking about how you're so poor, that you're probably fighting rats for the scraps at the bottom of the dumpster. It's an absolute win for you; no cooking involved and you haven't eaten instant noodles for months now.

The five girls you originally started off with seem to lose interest in you, they never texted or called you again. And when you did bump into any of them, they would pretend not to know you.

It's extremely obvious that they're avoiding you for some reason, maybe it's because they've seen you buddying up with Mercedes: one of their sworn enemies and one of the most feared figures in this city.

It's... Surprisingly sad. Knowing that the friendship was doomed from the beginning didn't change the feeling of isolation and hurt in you. But at least you gained something that resembled a friend.

Mercedes would gradually increase the frequency of her texts and calls, hitting you up whenever she's bored out of her mind.

"Stop working letz go shopping"

"U r SO going blind in ur 30s"

"nerd :-P"

"im boreddddddddddddd"

"go clubbing with moiiii"

"letzzz goooo"

"stop ignoring me :-("

These were just some of the few text messages you would frequently receive, blowing up your phone even when you're in a meeting. You would usually need to turn it off entirely to keep yourself quiet.

But yes, you would go shopping with her. Mercedes seem to have a kick out of spoiling you with clothes, jewelry and other things you can only dream to buy.

You didn't like trying on clothes, because Mercedes would barge into your changing room however and whenever she liked.

"What's the big deal? We're both girls." That was what Mercedes would say when she slips into the cubicle, while you're mid-change without any warning. Of course, you would react negatively to that, especially since you don't know her that well.

In the end, though, you would just give up and let her come in. It's not like you could stop her and she isn't doing anything too weird... Aside from her vaguely longing stares at your partially or completely unclothed body. She would almost be in a trance, staring unblinkingly for long periods of time until you snap your fingers in front of her face. She just claims that you're just too hot for anyone to handle.

Mercedes would contact you via your phone, asking if you would want to go clubbing with her, or if you would want to be her plus one to an event. And each time, you would say no. And each time, she would whine about how lame you are but never pushed too far.

A temporary boyfriend would take your place, only for her to break up with them the next day and appear in another tabloid for some scandalous fighting or dating. When you asked her about it, she would get moody and irritable. She would rant about her feelings and problems with the world at large, finding the dating pool now repulsive and general standards insanely low.

"Ugh! Can you believe that he said that to me?"

You would have to nod, it would end her ranting faster. It's always the same phrase over and over again, with slight variation.

"I wish men were just like you, I would find it so fucking easy to commit to a guy. But they're not, so I rather shit my hands and clap. Oh my god, he was so pathetic and gross."

You could recite her words at this point, you got it the first time that she wishes she could date a male version of you. Mercedes didn't have to repeat that every single time you and her met up.

For her sake and yours, you pray hard that she finds what she's looking for. You don't know how much more of her repetitive complaints you can take.

All your other attempts to network and make connections fail. As soon as any of them knew you were Mercedes's "bestie", they would either run for the hills or become actively hostile toward you. She has made a lot of enemies and you don't think she has any girlfriends... Only orbiters or those who tried to get her approval but secretly hated her guts. Or die-hard fans who don't see her as a human, but as an object, whether for better or for worse.

She kept them around, just because she could benefit from them. Mercedes would bring them along to some of your many shopping sprees with her just so they could carry heaps of heavy bags for the two of you. While you and her get to enjoy the day, completely unburdened.

It unsettled you how she treated them like lowly servants, or even more degradingly so, like dogs. And not like one of her spoiled Pomeranians, but mutts that are bred to work and live off scraps of attention. You could be having a spa day at the city's finest specialist, sipping on complimentary champagne, and having your hair done with products that you cannot even pronounce; Mercedes would make her lackeys wait outside. Yet, they appear happy about this treatment from her. Eagerly following Mercedes and by extension, you, wherever you go.

It didn't matter who you tried to befriend, Mercedes's opinion of them would remain constant: They're all two-faced liars who are out there to kick you when you're down. It never changed despite never even meeting them or you made them up. She's fiercely protective of you, and always assumed the worst of everyone, even her own relatives when they tried being cordial with you.

Of course, the friendship has blossomed to the point where you would have a slumber party at her multi-million mansion every Friday. You wouldn't even need to bring anything, she would have everything ready for you; clothes, toiletries, hairdryers- anything you need to survive from day to day, you would have a more luxurious version of it. She definitely has an affinity for bling, as the tops that Mercedes provides always have rhinestones decorating them.

You were living in opulence, a lifestyle that can only be seen on TV, in magazines, or in history books. It's jarring and almost dreamlike how you got to experience such things just by chance. You didn't have to work hard for it, you just need to endure a spoiled blonde's clinginess to receive all these. What a steal. You had maids and butlers that would await your every order, personal chefs to whip up something delicious in a second, and hunky pool boys to ogle at when you tan with her outside.

You just wished that Mercedes wasn't so touchy, though...

"Like, sunburn isn't cute. C'mon, don't be such a hardass, turnover." You would groan and do as you were told, laying flat on your stomach and adjusting your sunglasses. Mercedes would then squeeze a handful of white sunscreen on her palm, and begin rubbing onto your exposed back and legs.

She would always take her time running her hands over your skin, sensually massaging from the base of your neck and down to your bum. Her flesh would glide against yours, reaching all that she could touch and occasionally squeezing your cheeks down south. Whenever you complained, she would say:

"What? Not my fault you have a bubble butt. No one can resist giving a squeeze." And continues fondling you under the guise of preserving your youthful skin from the harsh sun rays. You would sigh, slumping your head down as Mercedes continued doing whatever she wanted. It's her house, her money, and her influence after all. You're just riding on it for free. And it's not like anything is going to be too weird, you and her are both girls!

"Okay, I'm done. My turn." She would hand you the bottle of sunscreen and flip herself over. It's undeniable that she has a body that even Aphrodite would be envious of, thanks to a combination of genetics, her lifestyle, and other procedures. Mercedes does put in work in her personal gym, toning her body and alluring men everywhere. Her bikini would leave very little to the imagination, but it made sense why she needed much more sunscreen.

"Make sure to get it on here too." She would purr, playfully wiggling her plump rear. This would usually prompt an eye roll from you and a giggle from her.

She's soft to the touch. And you knew that not because you would have to smear sunscreen on her, but because she would often cuddle with you. It didn't matter what you were doing, you could be stretching in her living room, and she would wrap her arms around your waist. You could be curled up on her fluffy sofa, watching a sitcom, and she would crawl up all over your space. You could be sleeping, and you would wake up to her being the big spoon. And she would have the audacity to whine about how you ruined her sleep by moving around.

But you must admit, she is comfortable to cuddle with. Especially when you rest your head on her voluptuous breasts, allowing yourself to sink into them and inhale her sweet, floral perfume. It would be heaven squared when she would rake her long, acrylic nails through your hair. Mercedes would let you twirl with her golden strands, playing with them between your fingers.

You think, maybe it's because she's just lonely and a big fan of physical touch. It must be exhausting to constantly think every single person in the world is out there to get you. But does she have to be so... gross?

"I just want it." Mercedes would whine, demanding that she wants your drink. You would ask her why, you also drank out of this straw anyway.

"I didn't like my order."

You pointed out that you ordered the same exact thing as her.

"They didn't make it right!"

You asked her what made her think they made yours right.

"They just do!"

You said it's just going to be the same thing. Why not throw hers away and order another one, seeing that she has near infinite amount of money?

She would groan in frustration and stomp her heels on the ground. "It tastes better after you drank from it, okay!? I don't know what it is about your... fucking saliva that makes something so mediocre, tastes so good. Now, gimme!" Mercedes would snatch it out of your hands and swapped it with her one.

You drank more than half of yours while Mercedes barely touched her cup. Well, more for you, you guess. At least everyone is happy.

This habit of hers would extend to utensils, you knew she would purposely drop her dessert spoon just to eat from yours. Mercedes would steal your clothes, claiming that your outfits are always cuter than hers, and she's jealous.

But she chose and bought you these clothes...?

You were so used to her antics, that one day, Mercedes gave you a new brand of gum to try. However, when it touches your tongue, you immediately grimaced as it was the most atrocious flavour ever.

"Whaatt? Are you fucking serious? That's like, my favourite flavour!" She would look at you in disbelief. And you would look at her in disbelief, because this was the first time seeing her buying this brand.

You told her that you wanted to spit it out, it's awful.

"Don't waste it!" She hit you on the arm. "Spit it in my mouth." Mercedes would part her lips wide and bring her face close to yours.

Without thinking, you expelled the partially chewed up candy into her orifice... which she gladly accepted and began chewing on it. Sucking whatever flavour that was left on, including your fluids.

"What are you talking about?" You could hear her obnoxious chews between words. "It tastes fine, you're so dramatic."

Upon realizing what you just did, you would shudder in disgust. Quickly walking away as if you're trying to run from the memory.

Soon after, Mercedes would permeate through every aspect of your life. It seems like she had a chat with her parents about offering you a job at one of their firms. A high standing one at that, too.

You obviously accepted it and resigned from your previous post. Now, THIS is what you're talking about. A prestigious job with unbelievable benefits and tasks that doesn't seem too hard for you to do. It's everything you wanted you achieve, ever since you arrived at the city.

Well, minus the fact that your bestie who got you this position would intrude your office every chance she gets and talk your ear off.

"Ughhh... this is so boring... Let's ditch this place and go somewhere fun." She would rest her head on your shoulder while shaking you by the arm.

You said you can't. You have work to do.

"Says who?"

You said your boss.

"Who's your boss?"

For the fifth time, you told her the name of your supervisor. But instead of complaining, she would storm out of your office. At first, you thought she would leave you alone, maybe she's tired of bugging you and got the hint that you're a responsible adult with adult jobs.

But, ten minutes later, she would be barrelling in with your boss in tow. She had him in a very unsavoury grip, her hands tightly clutching his sleeve.

"Tell her!" She demanded.

"Y-you're free to go. Someone else can cover for you."

Your eyes would widen, asking if this will affect your pay.

"Not at all. Don't worry, I will have this... agreement in writing. Please e-enjoy the rest of your day." He would then quickly excuse himself from the room, avoiding Mercedes's fiery glare.

You looked at her. How could she just do that?

"My Dad owns this company, duh. Anyways, less talk, more walk." She hooked her arm around yours and dragged you out of the office.

It's as if her father was paying you just to babysit his bratty, adult daughter. You barely get to do anything for the company! You don't even know what you were hired to do in the first place anymore.

It gets extremely suffocating being her best friend, you don't know anyone around except her. The staff in her mansion is always rotating, so you wouldn't see the same face twice. You barely remembered your supervisor's names, let alone any colleagues'. All your free time is robbed by Mercedes, she saturates every single second of your life. You don't remember not seeing Mercedes's pretty face on the daily, yet it's astonishing how she would get the paparazzi on her for constantly dating a new roster of boys each season and getting into catfights with other women. Where does she find the time to do that?

It's rubbing on you, now you begin to crave a boyfriend. A 'boy toy', as Mercedes would call it.

It shouldn't be too hard, you know that you're good-looking; you have the clothes, the hair, the makeup and you can always steal from your filthy rich best friend. Your bank account is a little chubbier now thanks to Mercedes. If you just put yourself out there, you're sure boys will flock to you.

But you shouldn't tell this to Mercedes, you get the vibe that she would be jealous that you're stealing the spotlight. You aren't trying to do at all, you're just curious to know what it's like to live like Mercedes for once.

So you had to do it secretly. You would always decline her requests to join her clubbing, preferring to favor sleep over drug-fuelled parties. But recently, you would cover up your eyebags with concealer just so you could introduce yourself to the market. It goes without saying, that you're not tagging along with Mercedes, you went on your own and told not a single soul.

And it was a success! You have never received so many free drinks from men before, you even witnessed some of them fighting over you, all physical and mock-macho. It was hilarious and flattering, but the other girls would avoid you like the plague and shoot you nasty looks your way. It's much worse than you expected it to feel, you feel... rejected, alienated, and ugly. Was this how Mercedes felt? Is that why she thinks all other women are out for her blood? Well, you understand it now. And some of the boys would be really creepy towards you, it doesn't feel so good on the soul knowing the people who defended you from those weirdos are also creeps themselves. They just wanted a piece of you as if you were just a slab of meat in a cage of hungry wolves.

Though, it would be a big, fat lie to say you didn't feel free. You felt the freedom that died on the day Mercedes took you under her wing. It tasted so sweet, you wanted more and more. You were so addicted, that you took illicit substances just to keep you awake for longer, to party until the sun rises.

You were leading a double life: As Mercedes's goody-two-shoes bestie in the day, a bad girl gone wild at night. Make out with whoever you want to, drinking as much as you want and shaking yourself to the beat of the music until you drop.

You knew Mercedes was suspecting something was up, but at this point, you give no shits. This is your life, and you get to live it.

It didn't last long, though.

There was one night in particular; you remembered that they had a massive disco ball in the middle of the ceiling, reflecting every ray coming out of the projector. It was deafening, the smell of booze and sweat nauseated you but you didn't notice. The DJ was bopping his head to the rhythm and scratching records using his fingertips. The patrons were doing their own thing, some were dancing like no tomorrow, some were locking lips and some were snorting lines. It was one of those types of parties, the one where you first met Mercedes. Except this time, you successfully snuck in without your ex-friends and finally found the core of the rave.

Your hair was frazzled and you had a few wardrobe malfunctions, but why should you be bothered by that? It's not like everyone around you were dignified at all, you blend in and that's all that matters to you.

The details were fuzzy, but you remembered wondering what it was like to make out with a woman instead. Men had pretty rough lips and they smelled like crap. Why not experiment? You're here anyways, and no one is going to recognize you- whatever happens in this mansion, stays in this mansion. Plus, you already have a willing participant next to you, who has been hitting on you all night.

Later in the dark, you became bold from a mix of alcohol and whatever glowing pill you took from a giddy stranger. You pulled her aside to somewhere secluded, the two of you were clearly hot and bothered, deeply eager to explore each other's bodies. Nothing else matters in this moment, other than to satisfy each other's needs.

She pulled you in by the neck, pressing her full lips against yours. And you were correct, it was soft, fragrant, and delicious. A thousand times better than kissing stinky boys. You closed your eyes and melted into her touch, sinking deeper and deeper into the kiss. She's on top of you, straddling your hips and your hands are rubbing all over her body. The woman, who you didn't even know the name of, trailed kisses from your jaw down to your collarbones. Her slender fingers began to stray from your chin and roam downwards until it was dangerously close to the hem of your panties. You let out a muffled moan as she let her tongue taste every corner of your mouth, neither of you could speak. And neither of you wanted to, words weren't necessary.

However, your ecstasy was cut short when your lover was yanked backward. Confused, your eyes immediately shot open at the first taste of emptiness... only to witness something scaringly horrific.

"Fucking slut! How fucking dare you, how fucking dare you touch my girl!" Shrieked Mercedes as she had an iron grip on your lover's hair with one hand, and another was whaling on her non-stop. She was screaming in terror as your best friend inflicted as much damage as she could on her face. Scratches, punches, cuts, she had done it all. Mercedes pulled clumps of hair out from her victim's scalp and dodged every attempt of her to fight back. She was fast, fueled with the purest distillation of rage you have ever seen, mascara streaked down her face as she shouted until her voice was hoarse. Blood splattered onto her light-hued hair, her outfit was ruined and no doubt, a thousand dollars worth of acrylic nails were ripped from her nailbed as she threw brutal punches.

You panicked, trying to break the fight up but Mercedes was entirely immersed in anger that she didn't care that she lost her natural nails along with her false ones. She's also bleeding, scarlet painted her fingertips, knuckles, and up to her wrist as she went on tormenting your lover with more hits and pummels. At this rate, Mercedes might just kill her!

You attempted to restrain her, but she was too strong, easily overpowering you just so she could beat your lover to death. There was so much hatred simmering in her heart for this one stranger, this one woman you're sure she's never met. Why!? Why her!? Why would Mercedes attack her unprovoked!?

The fight, which was one-sided ended a few minutes later when your lover stopped moving and was covered in gruesome welts. Her eyes were swollen shut and there was blood pooling around her from her nostrils, scalp, and lips.

"You."

Growled Mercedes. She was breathing heavily and all her strands were out of place. Tears were flowing down her bloodshot eyes as she trembled.

You were speechless, you quivered in fear as you looked on. In the end, all you could mewl out was a meek "Why?"

This caused her to wail, scream, and sob. She brought her injured fingers to her head and gripped her hair, letting out all her frustrations and agony before composing herself enough to form a coherent sentence.

"Fuck you, Whore! Fuck you!" She pointed at you, her shrill voice was making your ears hurt, but you're glad she wasn't biting them off instead.

You said you didn't understand what was going on, why was she so upset.

"You were into girls all along! I-I-" She sniffled, ungracefully wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Soiling her face with her own blood.

"I'm... in love with you..." Her voice quietened as it wavers, Mercedes choked on her own tears as she confessed. "Why didn't you tell me...?" She gasped erratically as she cried. Suddenly, there was a spike in her emotions. "Why didn't you fucking tell me?!"

You took a few more steps backward as she lost control over herself again, she had to kick your already unconscious lover with her heels to calm herself down.

"I wanted you! I..." She let out one last bloodcurdling scream before lunging at you.

You tried evading her, but she was just too experienced in this. Within seconds, her hands are tightly wrapped around your neck; Choking them until blood rushes up your head. You clawed and clawed on her hands, but nothing worked. She was determined to kill you.

She gnashed her teeth as she choked the life out of you, her salty tears rolled down her cheeks, taking some concealer along with it showing that she also had severe dark bags under her eyes.

You started seeing spots, and your thinking became redundant as your brain shuts down from the lack of oxygen. Is this it? Your death? Killed by a nepotism baby with her bare hands?

You took one last look at her face, it was filled with pain and anguish.

You regretted agreeing to come to the city.

She was yearning for you, ever since she bought you that first drink. If you knew the depth of her twisted, obsessive love she harbors for you, running for the hills would have been your immediate reaction.

Mercedes cried herself to sleep almost every night, suffering from a heartache that could never heal itself as long as she knew you were straight. She knew that you would never share her feelings, because she was taught that everyone sees lesbians as freaks of nature.

She tried distracting herself with parties, boys, booze, and coke. But nothing worked, all she ever thought about was you, you, you. She loves you and wanted nothing but to be your lovely wedded wife. Oh, how she longs for a life where it's just you and her. And no one else.

Mercedes couldn't let you go, no way in hell. That's why she would scare off anyone who got too close to you for her liking, that's why she sent out hit after hit to eliminate the competition. Because if she can't have you, no one can.

But now...

"Sit."

You frowned, refusing to budge from your spot.

Mercedes pouted, she cupped your cheeks and stared deep into your eyes.

"Bad puppies don't get treats, you don't want to be a bad puppy, do you, baby?" She cooed in a babyish tone but with heavy condescension.

You couldn't speak, because there was a ballgag between your lips. Yet, you stayed still in defiance.

She narrowed her eyes at your disobedience.

"That's how you're gonna be, huh." Mercedes lets go of your face and sticks her hand into the pocket of her bathrobe. You heard a click, and soon you felt insane vibrations between your legs, it's coming from the vibe taped to your clit!

You let out a muffled yelp as the stimulation made you buckle to your knees, and eventually, you were on the floor, helpless as your hands were tied up behind your back. Juices leaked from your slit and onto the cold, smooth floors.

"Good girl~" She praised in a sing-song voice. Mercedes happily clapped her hands together.

Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you were about to be overcome by pleasure, but... the device suddenly stopped moving. Leaving you incomplete and agitated.

You whined and whimpered, wanting your rightful climax but Mercedes only smiled at your pathetic, squirming state.

"Aww, what's that? Puppy wants to cum?" You feverishly nodded, face burning from the degradation.

"Well, only good puppies get their pussy eaten. Are you a good puppy?" She rested her hands on her knees.

You nodded and let out a muffled yell.

"Roll over."

You tried your best to do that, but the frigid floor is stimulating you further.

"Play dead."

You lay still for a few seconds, your sex is still throbbing in arousal.

"Good girl, good girl!" She praised, giggling at you.

You whimpered, having tears bead from the corners of your eyes. You need that release so badly, it's starting to hurt.

"Mmm... you're so fucking hot..." She whispered as she slowly got down to the floor, slipping her hands between your inner thighs to remove the toy. Her pupils are dilating at the sight of your naked, dripping crotch. "I can't wait to eat you out. You always taste so fucking delicious." Mercedes brushed your puffy lips with her fingers.

"Open your legs."

She didn't have to tell you twice, you granted her full access.

"Good girl..." She purred before dipping her head down to drag her wet, pink muscle over your pussy.

You writhe as she tongue fucks you, lapping up everything and not letting a drop of your sweet, sweet nectar go to waste.

You would spend almost every waking second being 'trained' by Mercedes. Her treats are sex and the overstimulation of your pussy until you faint. You never knew that she was such a nymphomaniac, or maybe she just is that for you. Mercedes just couldn't get enough of your essence, so you're subjected to such treatment.

Well, at least you don't have to work anymore. You get to eat five-star meals and sleep in a mansion, and you get to binge-watch all your favorite shows guilt-free. All you had to be was Mercedes's pet and have her eat you out whenever she wants.

Her beloved Pillow Princess; was embossed in gold, on the hot pink collar around your neck.

[empresskylo]

can you make a fix of cod guys reaction to you getting into an argument with them, which causes us to flinch and cover our face from any impact because we had an abusive ex.

featuring Ghost, Price, Soap, Gaz, Konig, & Alejandro

⊹ cod men x gn!reader

[ warnings ] domestic violence implications

cod masterlist

Ghost

He’d run his hand through his hair if he didn’t have this bloody mask on. Ghost looked down at you, his eyes narrowing in and scrutinizing your every minute detail. You tried to glare back, but you were feeling rather small with the weight of his disappointed glower. 

“You’ve got t’be more careful,” his voice boomed, though he was trying to keep it at a normal level. 

“I know, I’m sorry—”

“Sorry isn’t gonna cut it when you get someone killed,” he growled, taking a step in, closing the space between the two of you. 

You stepped back on instinct and bumped into the wall—trapped. You suddenly felt trapped. You knew that logically he wouldn’t hurt you, but something about his pissed-off demeanor and towering frame triggered something in you. Your breathing increased exponentially and Ghost watched helplessly as your chest rose and fell in rapid beats.

A bit taken aback by your response, Ghost raised a hand to grab your shoulder and you turned your head and shied away. You let out a small gasp as if waiting for him to land a blow on you. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, the entire moment passing by excruciatingly slow. That’s when you knew you fucked up. Ghost dropped his hand and his fist clenched, putting everything together all at once. Something inside him broke seeing you look at him like that—with fear in your eyes. It fucking hurt.

“M’not gonna hurt you,” he said in a much softer tone than earlier. He’d never lay a hand on you, even out of love, if you didn’t want it.

You blinked rapidly, forcing yourself to look up at him, your face inflamed. “I-I know. I didn’t… I don’t know why…” The words got lost in your throat. You were so embarrassed. 

“Who?” He asked sharply.

You tilted your head, your hands squeezing at your sides. Ghost took a step back to give you room, though he wanted nothing more than to step into you closer, to pull you against him. He didn’t care how annoyed he was with you, all that drifted away, unimportant nonsense he’d come back to later.

“ Who… ?” You repeated.

“Who. Hurt. You?” He bent over slightly, aligning his face with yours as he talked, making sure you couldn’t turn your face away from him. 

“J-Just an ex-boyfriend. It’s not a big deal. I don’t know why I responded like that. I-I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Ghost sighed, his eyes dancing between yours. “No. I wouldn’t.” His voice was dark and deep again. “But I have nothin’ against hurtin’ that bastard.”

“Ghost, please.”

He straightened and rolled his shoulders, trying to suppress the bubbling anger. He looked down at you at last. “Can I touch you?” He asked softly.

You nodded, tears falling down your cheeks now. He tentatively took a step towards you and pulled you into his arms. He wrapped them securely around you and you nuzzled your face into his jacket. If he wasn’t so shocked over the way you responded to him, he’d be yelling at you to tell you who it was that hurt you so he could hunt them down. 

Instead, he clutched you close to him, trying not to think about the fear that crossed your eyes, even if it was momentarily. Even if it wasn’t because of him. He never wanted you to look at him like that again. Something rotten tugged at his heart as he felt you try to stifle your cries. Oh, he was definitely going to kill that bastard. And he was going to make it slow and painful.  

Price

You chased after Price as he made his way down the hall. “I swear I didn’t mean to—!”

He cut you off, spinning on his heels, making you bump into his chest and slam to a halt. “It doesn’t matter what you meant !” He yelled, losing his composure briefly. 

You flinched at his loud words, stepping away from him. It was a quick movement, a subtle tick of your face, your eyes squinted as you pulled your head away. You acted like this was something you were all too familiar with. 

Immediately Price’s anger shifted away from you and onto whatever bastard trained you to cower. 

His widened eyes traced your face and you slowly read his expression as he came to the realization of why you would flinch away from him when he shouted. You watched as several emotions crossed Price’s countenance. 

His voice was hushed as he edged closer to you, the deep baritone sending a shiver up your spine. “Y’don’t have t’tell me now,” his voice was so low as he spoke. “But you will tell me who, eventually.”

“John, I–”

He was always so gentle with you. But right now, the intense hatred for whoever this bastard was that harmed you, took over. He shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Don’t wanna hear it, doll. You will tell me who did this to you if it’s the last thing I get out of you.”

A wave of heat crossed your cheeks, his eyes boring into yours. You nodded meekly and his face softened. “Com’ere,” he cooed, opening his arms. You stepped into them and were immediately surrounded in the warm comfort Price brought you, one hand rubbing circles on your back and the other sliding up into your hair, tucking your head under his chin. 

“S’your not mad at me, anymore?” Your words muffled by his body. 

You felt his chest rumble as he spoke. “Could never stay mad at you.”

Soap

“Blood hell,” Soap whined, annoyed with you for hiding the arm wound you got the other day. 

“It’s not as serious as it looks,” you tried to convince him, your lips quirking into a weak smile. 

He closed his eyes to collect his last remaining patience. “Not serious—” he repeated, his words rising in several octaves as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve got twenty stitches in your arm! How the fuck is that not serious?!” 

He reached for your arm and you pulled it away, shuddering briefly from the brief touch of his fingertips. The two of you froze, his eyes darting to meet yours the second he saw the shift in your composure. 

“Gonna tell me why y’just did that?” He sat still in his seat, trying to steady his voice. 

“Did what?” You asked, attempting to play dumb, but the tears were already misting in your eyes. 

Soap sighed, his face dropping as he studied you. “Fuckin’ hell,” he said with displeasure. “You shoulda told me. I wouldn’t have—I woulda been more—” He lost his words, watching as a few stray tears fell down your cheeks. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said softly. His thumb came up to wipe the tears away, his hand then cupping the side of your cheek. “S’okay. M’not mad.” You leaned into his hand.. “Jus’ wish ya woulda told me.” You nodded and he gave you a weak smile. 

“Com’on, let’s get that bandage changed.” His voice was gentle as he coaxed you up, wrapping an arm protectively around you as he led you down to the infirmary. You would discuss this later. Right now, all he wanted was to make sure you felt safe in his arms.

Gaz

Gaz wouldn’t say he had anger issues… he just got passionate about the people he cared about, and sometimes that would come out in spurts of angry shouts. What he didn’t expect, was the way you reacted the first time he ever lost his cool in front of you. 

“I cannot fuckin’ believe Shepherd,” he growled. 

“Maybe we should just focus on the positive,” you said meekly, trying to help calm Gaz down.  

“Yeah? And what fuckin’ positive is that?!” He shouted as he paced back and forth. He regretted it the moment it left his lips. 

You squeezed your eyes shut at his words and brought your hands up for the briefest of seconds to cover your face. 

Gaz whispered your name and you instantly tried to compose yourself. You straightened and gave an awkward smile.

“That wasn’t at you,” he corrected, his eyes deflating as he watched you. “I-I’m sorry. I’d never hurt you,” he said wistfully, running his hand over his hair and cursing. He looked at you completely differently than he had just moments earlier. His entire demeanor shifted. He was suddenly staring at you with such intensity it made something well in your eyes. 

“No, Gaz. It’s not you.” That was the last sentence you could get out before the tears escaped. You quickly wiped them away and Gaz stepped towards you, resting both hands on either one of your shoulders. 

“Hey,” he said calmly. 

You gave him a sideways smile. “It’s just…” you tried to get the words out but they slipped away.

“S’alright. You don’t have to tell me.” His hands slid down your arms, giving you a squeeze before releasing you. “You know I’d never hurt you, right?”

You gave a small laugh. “I know that, Gaz.”

“Good.” He pulled you into his chest without asking, all his anger from earlier transforming into gentleness. “You can tell me when you’re ready,” he said into your hair. 

You nodded. “Thank you.” He held you a bit tighter and you closed your eyes in peace. You never wanted him to let go. 

König

He was frustrated with the way you were angry at him for insisting he do this mission alone. “You’re gonna get yourself killed!” You argued.

He had enough. He didn’t lose his temper often, but there was no way Konig was allowing you to come on a mission quite this dangerous. He pushed up from his chair, the table in front of him shaking as he did. 

He was a big guy, and you knew that, but the way he quickly took up the space of the room amazed you. “Verfickte Hurerei!” Fucking hell! he shouted. “Why are you pressing this so hard?!” He gestured towards you, his fists clenched and you winced. You cowered away, surprising even yourself with your actions. 

Konig watched you through his rapid blinking, dumbfounded by what just happened. It took him a second to process.

“Liebling?” He asked his voice back to its usual tone. “I wasn’t going to— fuck . I’m sorry.” A pang of guilt coursed through him. You thought he was going to hit you? Jesus Christ. He wanted to reach out to you but he refrained, knowing that might make things worse. 

“Konig,” you whispered and his eyes snapped to yours. He tilted his head, studying you as you regained your composure. “S’not you.” Your words were so faint it hurt his heart a little. 

He watched as you wiped away a stray tear. Your body had shifted back to how things used to be. Before Konig. 

Your lip quivered and you felt so small and embarrassed. Konig mouthed your name breathlessly and you blinked away tears before closing the distance between the two of you. You practically fell into his arms and he tightened them on you instinctively. 

“You okay, liebling?” He cooed, his hand stroking your hair. 

You nodded. “M’sorry.”

He pulled back so you had to tilt your chin and look up at him. “Don’t apologize.” His hand came up and stroked your cheek. 

“It’s not you,” you tried to reassure again, worried Konig was going to eat himself alive thinking you were afraid of him. 

“I know.” Your lips pinched together and Konig pulled you back into him. “You’re safe. You’ll always be safe with me.”

You felt tears fall; not out of terrible memories, but out of the love you felt radiating off of Konig. 

Alejandro

“Jesus, would you just listen to me?” You shouted. 

“Listen to you?! You haven’t heard a fucking thing I’ve been saying!” He yelled back. His accent was always heavier on his words when he was mad. 

He took a big step towards you, his knife still in his hand, covered in blood. You flinched when he approached so suddenly. His dark words and his fast movements made you duck in fear. 

Alejandro paused all his movements, startled by your reaction. “Jesus,” he mumbled, sheathing his knife and holding his hands up. “I wouldn’t hurt you, mi amor.” He shook his head in frustration with himself. His jaw clenched as he watched you look back up at him. How awful he felt seeing your beautiful features shrouded in fear. 

“I…” you swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. The yelling… I don’t know. It just made me think back to…”

Something inside Alejandro shifted at your faint words. “Mataré a ese bastardo,” I’ll kill that bastard , he growled. “Who was it? Who fuckin’ touched you?” 

You shook your head. “Alejandro, please. It was so long ago.”

He clenched his fist, his other hand coming up to the scruff on his jaw. He closed his eyes to try and contain himself. When he opened them, you could still see the darkness lingering behind them. “I don’t care how long ago it was, mi amor. I need you to tell me who it was.”

You frowned and he closed his eyes again before walking up to you and pulling you into his arms. “God. I swear I’ll fuckin’ kill him.”

You let out the softest of giggles at how dramatic he could be. But still, you felt so safe knowing he would go to the ends of the world to protect you. You felt him kiss the top of your head, mumbling something about being sorry for yelling. 

[sweatervest-obsessed]

New Shade of Green

Pairing: Spencer x Reader (gn!)

WC: 2.7k

TW: implications of murder, serial killer talk, mentions of abuse, crying, anger, swearing <3, Men sucking so bad

a/n: This was a request, which you can see here. Jealous Spencer was so fun to write! Enjoy babes!!!

"Oh my god. Shut the fuck up! I didn't know you were the consultant for this case!" You hopped up out of your seat on the jet to greet the man you called your best friend. 

His eyes lit up when he saw you, wrapping an arm around you, squeezing you tightly. "I assume you didn't read the text I sent you last week."

You laughed and pulled out of the hug slightly, hand still on his arm. "I never read anything you send me."

Spencer, whose hand you had abandoned when you got up to say hi to Oliver, was zeroed in on the fact that your hand was still on Oliver's arm, and Oliver's arm was still slightly wrapped around your waist. 

"Team, this is Oliver Swerdanski, my best friend and specialist in classics--" 

"Norse mythology specifically." 

It was not lost on the team that you clearly had a type. Oliver was about 6 feet tall, in a sweater, and wearing wired glasses frames. He was slightly buffer than Spencer, but not as tall. (something Spencer noted the first time you had introduced the two)

The team nodded and said their hellos, more interested in the shifting dynamics of the plane since you hadn't left Oliver's side, opting to sit with him on the couch instead of your usual seat by the window, next to a certain green-faced Doctor. 

The flight was going to be a long one. 

Eventually, Derek felt terrible enough for Spencer that he stopped by you and Oliver on his way to get some coffee. 

"So, Oliver, how long have you known our dear Y/N here." 

Oliver smiled over at you with a glint in his eye that most of the profilers on the plane noticed. Except for you. 

"Oh, well. We go way back." 

You nodded enthusiastically, just happy to have the company of an old friend. "We were neighbors growing up--you could say he's my childhood best friend." 

"That turned into one of your now best friends..."

You smiled and rolled your eyes. “Don’t push it asshat.”

Derek smiled slightly, realizing this was going to be an interesting case “Well, it’s nice to meet you Oliver.”

He left the two of you alone, taking your abandoned seat next to Spencer, a slight smirk washing over his face as he did. 

“Aren’t you the picture of joy this morning?” 

“Not in the mood, Derek,” Spencer mumbled, staring intently out the window, trying not to let his jealousy get the better. It’s not like it mattered since he was surrounded by profilers who could read him like a book. 

“What do you think of Oliver?” 

Spencer’s jaw tightened, and Derek chuckled. “Good luck, kid.” 

And with that, Derek left Spencer alone, knowing he had his plate filled with more than enough shit for however long this case would be. 

And it didn’t help anything that you were completely oblivious to both men: both of them filled to the brim with envy of the other, having what they each thought the other had—your attention. 

____________________________________________________________

Four years ago, Hotch had made you and Spencer share a bedroom, causing a chain of events to lead to the fact that you still share one now. 

Three years of dating had made you feel very comfortable in your relationship; You loved Spencer Reid. This was not some passing affliction, it was simply a fact of the universe. You would move hell and earth if he asked you to. 

But not right now. Right now? You kind of wanted to punch him. He was ignoring you, or at least that’s what it felt like. The car ride was completely silent. You could tell something was upsetting him, but you weren’t one hundred percent sure why he was so distant. 

“Spence?” 

“Hm?”

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong.” 

He shrugged, effectively trying to murder the conversation before it even had the chance to live. 

You frowned slightly, shifting in your seat slightly, and looking over at him. 

“What’s going on?” 

You heard him mumble something under his breath, unsure of what he was saying, but it just made you even more upset. 

“Why won’t you tell me what’s going on with you?”

“I said. I’m fine.” Spencer huffed. 

“Well, clearly you aren’t.”

“Believe whatever you want to fucking believe then.”

And that’s where the conversation ended, leaving you effectively lost. Especially since he wouldn’t hold your hand in the car ride back and then didn’t wait for you as he walked straight into the police station. 

This was going to be a long case. 

___________________________________________________________

And you were right. 

Spencer ignored you at every chance he could. Even in the hotel room, he’d go to bed without you, no holding one another, no late-night talks, nothing. He would just get ready for bed in silence and then turn away from you. 

And tonight, you couldn’t deal with it anymore. He had been ignoring you for over a week and now that it looked like the case was going to take longer, you couldn’t stand it. Instead of getting into bed, you grabbed your phone and wallet and stormed out of the hotel, slamming the door behind you. 

You went down to the hotel bar and ordered yourself a tequila shot, downing it quickly before getting your regular drink. 

Oliver slid into the seat next to you, hand on your arm. 

“I haven’t seen you do tequila that fast since freshman year of college.” 

You gave him a dry laugh and took another sip of your drink. “Desperate times.” 

“Want to talk about it?” 

“Not really. I’m just. I’m aggravated.” 

“Come on, babe, it’s me.” Oliver rubbed his hand up and down your arm. “You can always talk to me—so tell me what’s been going on. Boy troubles?”

You sighed. “It’s just…I don’t know what’s going on with Spencer. He’s barely said like three sentences to me since the case began, and clearly, he’s upset with me, but I have no fucking idea why since he’s being a stubborn ass and won’t talk to me. How the fuck am I supposed to fix something if he won’t even tell me what’s wrong.” 

Oliver rubbed his thumb across your arm. It felt intimate because it was, but this was Oliver, who only had the best intentions for you, who you had known since you were a little kid.

“He sounds like a douche babe.” 

You leaned away slightly, face becoming unrecognizable for a moment. “Okay, well, that’s not what I said. He’s clearly just upset abou—” 

“You kinda did. He’s acting like you don’t exist, and clearly, he doesn’t care about how all of this is affecting you.” 

You went to rebuttal his claims because Spencer would never be that callous; he’d never treat you like that. But he kind of was. “It’s only because something is wrong and…”

“So he treats you like this whenever he can’t communicate with you.”

“Well not…he doesn’t…” You were starting to doubt yourself, unable to keep up with the accusations. 

“He doesn’t what. Because it sounds like you’re saying he treats you like shit when he gets upset with you…”

“What are you trying to insinuate? That he hits me? Oliv–”

“I’m just saying that behavior–”

What? Oliver, no. Stop twisting my words.” 

“I’m not twisting your words; I’m just stating what I’m seeing.” 

“What you’re seeing? You’ve been here for a week. You don’t know the past three years.”

“It’s been a week and he’s still treating you like this. And honestly, whenever I come around, he…” Oliver moved his hand to your thigh, causing you to frown deeply. 

“Oliver. Step off.” 

He shook his head. “You’re upset. And I want to help.” 

You shoved his hand off your thigh and stood up. You left cash on the bar, standing up and moving away from Oliver. 

Oliver watched as you walked away, frowning once you couldn’t see him anymore. 

____________________________________________________________

The next morning, Spencer was woken up, and you were curled into his chest, sleeping soundly. He couldn’t move. He ghosted his lips over your forehead, causing you to stir slightly, clinging to him more. 

“Morning.” He whispered to you. 

You hummed and gripped a bit tighter to him. “Don’t go.”

Your voice broke Spencer’s heart a little bit. It’s not that he didn’t feel bad about the way he was treating you, it’s just that Oliver kept provoking him, making him turn greener every single time he saw Oliver talking to you. 

“I wasn’t planning on it, sweetheart.” 

“Oh so now we’re back to nicknames.” You grumbled into his chest. “I’m still mad at you.” 

He signed and brushed your hair out of your face. “I’m sorry Y/N. Let me make it up to you, yeah?” 

“You can make it up to me when we get home.” 

“Deal.” He kissed your head again, just as your cell phone began to ring. 

_________________________________________________________

After two grueling weeks on this godforsaken case, everyone was ready to get home. 

The rest of the case caused serious tension for the group because the mythology was the only thing tying these murders together, and your geoprofile was all over the place, meaning these two killers were too good at what they were doing. 

Once you had been shot at, and nearly grazed by a bullet, you would have expected Spencer to continue to speak to you, but all he did was stare at you from afar. It was infuriating. 

You couldn’t get a read on him. For the rest of the week, he had been speaking to you, kissing you, holding your hand; then after checking on you while you were getting checked out, he stopped speaking to you. 

The entire team watched you and Spencer shift back into the dynamic duo you were, functioning better than before. They watched as Oliver got more frustrated as you continued to ignore him unless it was a necessary part of the investigation. Maybe you had figured it out–they hoped you had.

Instead of trying to deal with even more bullshit, you opted to sit alone at the back of the plane, headphones on. It was one of those many unspoken rules about the plane that everyone knew not to disturb you while your headphones were on unless they wanted to get bitch slapped. 

Well, everyone except for Oliver. 

You were deep in thought, trying to mull over why Spencer wasn’t talking to you–both times– going over every scenario you possibly could and figuring out what changed during that first day. 

Oliver got up, ready to go and talk to you, his intentions pretty clear from the look on his face, but Derek grabbed his arm, effectively yanking him back down into his seat. 

“What the fuck man?” 

“Don’t bug Y/N while they have headphones on.” If Spencer wasn’t going to stand up for you, then Derek absolutely was. Oliver might have been your best friend, but Derek was your family. 

“It’s just music…”

“Yeah,” Hotch spoke up, not looking away from the report in his hands. “And no one wants to clean up your blood when you get murdered for trying to interrupt that music.” 

“Look. As Y/n’s best friend, I’m outside of most of their rules–”

“I don't think so.” Derek stood up, fully ready to restrain this man. 

“What the fuck is going on.” You had stood up, and turned around, headphones out of your ears, and my god did you look fucking pissed off. “I don’t know why is everyone arguing so loudly, but if we could keep the volume at a fucking minimum that would be fan-fucking-tastic.”

The team stared back at you, except for Hotch who just had a slightly amused look on his face as he filled out paperwork. You glared at Oliver and Derek, who were standing opposite of you. “Can I help you two or…”

Derek shook his head. “Go back to your music. We’re sorry.”  

“Thank you.” You grumbled to the group, sliding your headphones back over your ears, attaching a ‘sorry’ to the group as you did so. You moved further back on the plane, sitting on the couch, glaring at anyone who looked at you. 

This has been a stressful two weeks for you. Oliver was acting all weird all of a sudden, –causing you to reevaluate your entire relationship with him, considering he was trying to make Spencer sound like a villain. And then Spencer, acting like a villain and ignoring you all week, then acting like nothing happened, and then ignoring you again for another twenty-four hours. You couldn’t take it anymore. And, on top of all of this, you had lost two more victims to the unsub, because one of the killers worked in the station, using his knowledge to avoid the BAU. 

You were overwhelmed and frustrated, and you just wanted some peace and quiet. Was that too much to ask for? 

“I should go apologize–” Oliver didn’t move to sit back down.

Spencer stood up and shoved past Oliver, moving to sit on the couch with you, causing you to raise your eyebrows at him. 

“Can I help you?” 

Spencer shrugged and opened his book, knowing you’d rather have whatever conversation he was willing to have now, in private. He opted to just read and be in your company. It was easily recognizable as the beginning of an apology, and you would take it. You maneuvered so your back was up against his arm, initiating the amount of touch you were willing to have, but also not crossing a line. 

The plane ride was silent the rest of the way. 

______________________________________________________________________________

“I’m sorry for this w–the past two weeks really. I-I’ve been really in my own head and–”

You let out a hefty sigh, tossing your keys on the counter and your bag down next to the door. Spencer followed suit, closing the door behind the two of you as you went into the kitchen to put on the kettle to make some tea. 

“Are you going to tell me what was going on? What the fuck happened?”

He sighed back at you, grabbing your hand and pulling you into a hug. 

And while you muttered your displeasure, you didn’t move away from him at all, opting to grouchily mumble in his ear, while Spencer ran his thumb up and down your back, listening to you mumble. 

“I–god Spence. You just dropped me like all week, and then suddenly—”

“I-I know. I was awful. I’m so so sorry.”  

“That’s not an explanation.” You mumbled into his chest.

“I….” Spencer swallowed whatever sort of pride he thought he would be saving and opted to tell you. “I…It was Oliver, and-and the way you were treating him, an-and you sat next to him on the plane and he was touching you and he was constantly holding you and stealing your attention away and—”

You pulled away slightly to get a look at your boyfriend. “Spencer Reid, were you jealous?” 

He cursed under his breath and rolled his eyes. 

You placed a soft kiss on his neck, causing him to hum. “You have nothing to be worried about Spence. You are it for me. No one can change that, especially not Oliver.”

Spencer looked down and smiled again. You smiled back at him, pulling him to you for a kiss. 

It was recentering your universe. Everything was the way it should be–your lips on Spencer's, his hands around his waist, and a glowing sunset peering through your windows. 

The kettle whistled loudly, causing the two of you to jump apart, startled at the sound. 

“That was a good start, Spence. Once I finish my tea, you can show me how else you can keep making it up to me.” You smirked slightly, turning around to take the kettle off of the stove and grab the tea and mugs. 

Spencer has never been so excited to drink a cup of tea, and honestly, neither had you. 

[xmanicmushroomx]

nsfw alphabet || katsuki bakugou

tags: aged up katsuki bakugou x fem!reader, nsfw alphabet

cw: HEAVY nsfw [obvi], mention of bodily fluids, slight bdsm themes??, sexual positions and scenarios

a/n: holy shit you guys???? 1k notes on my “your birthday party” bakugou scenario??? i’m so blown away. you’re all so amazing and i hope you know how deeply appreciated you are.🥹 to celebrate, here’s an nsfw alphabet for our favorite boom boy.

a is for aftercare (what they're like after sex)

katsuki is so incredibly attentive after sex. he’ll bring you a glass of water and a warm wash cloth, clean you up, and then he’ll pull you into his arms so the two of you can go to sleep.

b is for body part (their favorite body part on their partner)

he’s an ass man, through and through. he’s always touching your ass: slapping or pinching it as you walk past, hand in your back pocket when you’re out in public, sneaking his fingers up your dress while you two stand in the corner of a crowded elevator. he can’t get enough of watching your cheeks get red from his blatant teasing.

c is for cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

if he’s not cumming inside you, he’s cumming on you. he loves making a mess of you. he treats it like marking his territory, covering your face with it and taking pictures of you like that. [he doesn’t share them with anyone, obviously, he just pulls them out and shows them to you anytime you think you can outdo his attitude. “you keep talking to me like that and you’re gonna end up on your knees looking like this again, pretty girl. shut your mouth.”]

d is for dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

no one knows how you and bakugou really met. your story is always “oh, we reunited at a conference a couple years back and just clicked!” but that is complete, utter bullshit. you’ve been friends with benefits since just after your graduation from ua. the two of you caught feelings, HARD, and decided you needed more.

e is for experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

does he know what he’s doing? he genuinely might tie you to the bed if you ask him that question face to face. even if he’s not experienced, he’s a quick learner. the second he finds that spot that has your eyes rolling back, he’s absolutely abusing it until you’re a stuttering, drooling, mindless mess underneath him.

f is for favorite position (this goes without saying)

bakugou can’t stand to not look at your face while he’s fucking you. he wants to see every expression and gauge every little reaction you have to him. he hikes your knees over his shoulders and practically folds you in half, nose to nose, hands in your hair to pull your face closer to his, “eyes on me, babygirl,” “if you close your eyes again i’m stopping”.

g is for goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

bedroom bakugou is always. all. business. he’s not messing around. he has one goal — make you cum as many times as possible, and then take care of himself with your body.

h is for hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

it’s thick and just slightly darker than his hair. he keeps it trimmed and neat for you, but if you didn’t ask for it, he would rather let it do what it does without a care in the world.

i is for intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he always reassures you before. [“you know i love you, right, mamas?”] but during… oh boy. [“‘cause i’m about to fuck you like i hate you.”]

j is for jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he used to, when you two would have to go weeks between seeing each other. but now that you sleep in the same bed every night, he doesn’t have to.

k is for kink (one or more of their kinks)

he’s dominant, no questions asked. and he loves brats. it riles him up when you go to an event together and catch an attitude with him. he’ll fuck it out of you the second you get back home. if your attitude is really bad, he’s dragging you to a secluded guest room to put you on your knees.

l is for location (favorite places to do the do)

any- and everywhere. he’s sliding a hand up your skirt under tables, sitting you on his lap whenever possible, pulling you into a closet or kitchen to pin you against the wall or push you down on your knees.

m is for motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

your attitude is his biggest turn on. when you start mouthing off to him, he knows what you really want to say is, “please fuck me on the nearest possible surface before i lose my mind.”

n is for no (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

drunk-you and asleep-you are both completely off limits [unless you are into that and specifically ask him to do it]. if either of you show even slight discomfort at anything new, he stops immediately. he’s not one to be outright opposed to most things you suggest.

o is for oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

when it comes to oral, he’s a giver and a taker. he’ll lick your cunt until his jaw is numb just to hear those pretty noises falling from your lips. he’s patient when you’re offering, tangling his fingers in your hair and letting you set the pace. but when he’s punishing you.. i hate to tell you, girlie, but your throat is a goner :)

p is for pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

this honestly goes both ways, depending on what he wants out of it at the moment. sometimes, he just wants to worship your body — everything is slow and sweet, whispering in your ear how much he loves you, “you’re fucking divine, baby”, tending to your every request. other times, however — like when he’s had a particularly bad day — he is absolutely fucking you through the mattress and growling low, empty threats in your ear. “shut up and take it, mamas,” “gonna tie you to this bed if you don’t stay fucking still”, “need’a cum inside this pussy before i start blowing shit up”

q is for quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he loves them. he’ll take you at every opportunity. [see location!]

r is for risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

ohhh yes. he’ll have the most random idea for a position, kink, or anything else sex-related. he’ll ask you about it beforehand, of course, because he’s not just gonna spring the shit on you in the middle of it. if you’re interested in giving it a go, he’s absolutely trying it.

s is for stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

this man could go all day. he’s spent YEARS perfecting his body, increasing his stamina, training his entire system to be as active as possible for as long as possible, to be a hero. and he’s absolutely no different in the bedroom.

t is for toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he’ll use them on you — but just to tease you, because the only things you’re cumming on when he’s around are his fingers or his cock. his favorite toy is the vibrator that connects to his phone. he’ll sit you on the bed and kneel between your legs when you’re both getting ready for an event, lapping at your clit while he slides it inside you. [“be a good girl tonight, or else i’m maxing this thing out while you’re talking to someone until you behave.”]

u is for unfair (how much they like to tease)

bakugou will tease you until you’re crying out of desperation. he’ll relentlessly brush his fingertips against your sweet spot, over and over, until you’ve cum so many times and you’re so sensitive it hurts. it satisfies him to no end, smirking like an absolute devil, while you sit there with tears in your eyes begging him to fuck you already.

v is for volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

bakugou doesn’t do loud. he’s yelling at everyone all the time, so sex is the one instance where he’s always calm and collected. what he does do, however, is whisper or growl in your ear about everything. [“you’re so wet for me, mamas.” “always such a good girl.” “you can do it, baby, gimme one more.”]

w is for when (is there a specific time of day they like to do it most?)

bakugou is always doing something sexual. he teases you all day, if he doesn’t already have you underneath him in bed all day.

x is for x-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

he puts the word muscular to shame. he’s a pro hero, #2 at that, so of course he’s fit as a fiddle. he trains daily. broad shoulders, narrow hips, long arms and legs. he’s extremely proud of his own dick — ten and a half inches long and just thick enough that it stretches you out enough to feel like the first time — every. single. time.

y is for yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

this man could fuck you before every meal and he’d still want more. making you come undone is his own private serenity, and sometimes he genuinely thinks it’s the only thing keeping him sane.

z is for zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

after taking care of you and making sure you feel okay, he wraps you in his arms and pulls your head against his chest. he’s out like a light [and you usually are, too.]

[selfloverrrrrr]

NONCON + threes0me between Megumi Gojo and reader pls🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🎀🎀🎀💗💗💗

Lesson or chance?~

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physically and emotional abuse, biting, size difference, Yandere Gojo, Yandere Megumi, threesom, protective, jealous, obsessive, manipulative....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Masterlist

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

I was a first year student in jujutsu high. I had friends there. Nobara, Megumi and Yuji. Megumi and I was in a relationship from three or four months. But noone knew that Except them. Them means Yuji and Nobara.

Gojo Satoru. Our sensei of jujutsu high. He was obsessed with someone. He loved her so much. He can do anything for her. Anything means ANYTHING! but we never knew atleast he never let us know that the girl he was obsessed with was none other than me?

It was a day after a mission. Gojo sensei was taking us for a icecream treat. Me, Yuji and Gojo sensei was already there. We were waiting for Nobara and Megumi to come. I was calling Megumi. "Yuji... call Nobara" I said. "Oh...so you're calling your boyfriend...huh?" Yuji teased.

"shut up" I said and rolled my eyes. Gojo's eyes immediately went to Yuji. "Boyfriend?" Gojo asked. "Yes, sensei.... you don't know she has a boyfriend?" Yuji asked. Gojo glared at me underneath his blind fold. So Yuji couldn't see it. 'just tell me his name I'm gonna fucking kill him' Gojo told himself.

"no?... I didn't know.... who's it?" Gojo asked. "It's Fushiguro" Yuji replied. Gojo's heart stopped for a second. "Megumi?" He asked. "Yes yes" Yuji replied. They were talking but Megumi and Nobara came.

"where were you two?.... I can't wait for ice cream anymore!!!!" I whined. "I'm sorry I forgot my phone in my room " Megumi said wrapping his hand around my shoulder. "And I was talking with Maki senpai" Nobara said. "It's okey... let's go now " I said. Then we went to the icecream shop.

Now it was a month later from that day. Me and Megumi were in Megumi's house, in his room, on his bed. His lips on mine. Kissing each other roughly. Small amount of moans coming between the kiss. Megumi pulled me on his lap. I was sitting directly on his crotch.

"f-fuck" he whined. I could feel he was hard. I started moving back and forth. "Oh fuck fuck fuck...y/n stop... I don't think I would be able to control " Megumi whimpered. "Then don't control" I said licking his neck.

"yeah...no... I mean...uh" Megumi said. I could feel that he was nervous. "What happened?" I asked. "It's... it's just... it's my first time" he confessed. "That's fine.... it's my first time too" I told him. "I know...but what if I can't please you properly" he said. "Megumi don't be so nervous!!!" I said. "Ok... I'm gonna try... don't mind if I couldn't.... properly" he said. "I would never" I replied with a giggle.

While we were talking in Megumi's room. Gojo was outside of the room leaning against the wall. Listening to our talks. He smirked at himself then walked away to his own room.

A Week After

Megumi just woke up and came out of his room. Gojo was standing in the kitchen. Drinking coffee. "Hey Megumi...supp?... You look a little...sad?" Gojo asked. "No no... I'm fine" Megumi replied. "That definitely doesn't sound fine ....what is it?" Gojo asked. Megumi sighed. "It's just.... I don't think it's okey to tell you" Megumi sighed again.

"Megumi?... tell me... look I always thought of you as a son.... now tell me what is it? Any adult thingy?" Gojo asked. "Yeah actually.... It's..... Ok so .... We had sex, yeah me and y/n had sex last week. And it was both of our first time. But.... but I don't think that I'm pleasing her properly" Megumi confessed.

Gojo took a deep breath. "You want me to help?" Gojo asked. "How's that?" Megumi asked. Gojo walked towards Megumi. "I'll show you how to fuck her properly....by fucking her" gojo said. "W-what-" before Megumi could complete his sentence Gojo talked again. "Megumi listen.... I like her... I love her...but when I heard that she has a boyfriend I thought I'm gonna kill him but when I get to know it's you.... you know I can't kill you... you're like my son....but we can share....have her together " Gojo whispered. Megumi looked at him. "Uh..ok....ok ok ok ...... I mean yeah ok fine" Megumi said. Gojo smirked. "Great choice" he said.

The next day

Megumi messaged me to come to his place. I was already there. Standing in front of the door. I pressed the bell. "Yeah.... coming" a voice said. Then the door opened. I expected it to be Megumi. But it was Gojo sensei. That wasn't weird... cause it was his house after all. "Oh ...hey sensei" I greeted him. "Heyy" he greeted back. "Umm... Megumi isn't home?" I asked. "No no...he is.... come inside.... he's in his room" Gojo said and I went inside.

I sit on the couch. Gojo sit beside me. "Where's he?" I asked. "He's coming" Gojo replied. "You're looking cute" he said wrapping his hand around my shoulder and pulling me closer to him. That was a little uncomfortable. "Uh... t-thank you" I said nervously.

In a moment Megumi entered in the room. I smiled at him. "Oh look he's here.... Megumi come... sit here" Gojo said pulling me on his lap and patting on where I was sitting. Megumi smiled and sit there. Now this was way too much uncomfortable.

"uh... sensei can you...let me go.... it's... it's kinda uncomfortable" I said. "Why....are you nervous" he said in a deep tone. Suddenly felt his hand going up under my top. My eyes widened. I looked at Megumi. I pushed his hand away and sit on Megumi's lap. "What are you doing!!!!" I said. And instead of explaining me Gojo just smirked.

"oh come on.... you like it" Gojo said moving towards me. But what shocked me was....why isn't Megumi protesting?! "Megumi stop him" I said. But what Megumi did? Hold me tightly on his lap so that I can't move. Gojo's hand going up under my skirt.

I punched Megumi's hand away and stood up. "The fuck are you two doing!!!" I screamed and started going out of their house. "Y/n stop... don't you love me?" He said. I slapped him. He was shocked and silent. "I did.... but I don't from now" I said and turned around.

Gojo was standing in front of me. I gasped. "Y/n, sit" he said. "Get out of my way.... I'm not a whore that'll let you two do anything" I spit. "Y/n I said go sit" Gojo repeated. But this time I slapped him. He glared at me and grabbed my hair and slapped me. "Tf do you think you are,huh? I'm not Megumi that I'm gonna get silent" he said and slapped me again. "You should've accepted it and it won't be this hard" he said. Tears came in my eyes.

"oh don't cry, pretty girl~" he cooed in my ear and grabbed my hair and dragged me towards his bedroom. "Megumi.... come in my room and lock the door" he said to Megumi. I groaned in pain. He threw me on his bed and Megumi went inside and locked the door. Gojo Took off his shirt and threw it on the floor then started crawling towards me on the bed."please stop" I said and tried to push myself backwards but he grabbed my leg and pulled me towards him. I gasped. He was still smirking."oh now that brave girl is scared?" he whispered and crashed his lips on mine.

I tried to push him away but his grip was too strong. I can't even move myself. He was kissing me too roughly. I couldn't breathe. He grabbed the hem of my top and pulled it over my head. My boobs bounces out. "You should play with her boobs before fucking her... that'll make her more wet" He said to Megumi then looked at me with lust in his eyes and didn't waste any time, crashed his mouth on my breast licking, sucking and teasing the nipple and squeezing the other one with his hand. I moaned in the sensetion. I grabbed his hair and tried to stop him by pulling it but it didn't even effect on him. "S-sensei stopppp" I scremed but he didn't stop.

Then he took off my skirt and then took off my pantie. Then looked at my pussy. He rubbed his finger on my clit and whispered " look .... told you.... she's fucking wet~". Then he licked my pussy. I couldn't help but moan loudly. He smirked at my reaction and undo his pant.

His dick sprang out. It was too big and too thick. Fear grabbed me by my neck. " S-sensei no no no... P-please no... s-stop.... I don't want this" I begged but didn't even listen to me and slammed his whole dick inside me in one slide. I scremed. He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thursting in and out roughly. He looked at Megumi "don't worry....girls like it rough" Gojo said. I was throughig my legs with pain and begging him to stop. And he was liking it so much. "Megumi... you must be hard go on....use her mouth" Gojo said.

I looked at Megumi with teary eyes. Why is this happening? Even my boyfriend is letting his father to fuck his girlfriend?! Megumi didn't waste any time, unzipped his pant and slammed his length in my mouth. I squeezed my eyes. Tears flowing down. Because both of them were too much big. My mouth was wide open. Megumi's dick inside my mouth taking the whole length in slowly. It was too big. Megumi's breath hitched. He threw his head back mouth wide open. He grabbed my hair telling me to suck hard. He bobbed my head up and down. His tip was poking the back of my throat. He grabbed my hair and started bobbing my head up and down faster. "Oh god...oh god.... don't...ahhhh... don't stop!!!!" Megumi moaned out loudly. He was bobbing my head up and down faster and faster. He suddenly felt that Megumi was close. In a few minutes he came inside my mouth. He grabbed my chin "Swallow it y/n" Megumi said looking at me. Gojo thrust roughly and said"swallow. His. Cum. Y/n". Which made me swallow.

Gojo's thurst became harder and harder. I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly " ughhhhhh.... f-fuck s-so...ahhhh....so f-fucking tight " he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I bite his shoulder scratched his back to control myself. With a few more thurst I came. He was still thursting roughly. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength." Ughh...no no no no...ahhhhhh...no please no....ahhhhhh..... n-not ahhhh.....not inside..." I moaned. He grabbed my throat and chocked me down to the bed. "And it would be better if you cum inside her even if she says no" Gojo said with a smirk. I cried out loudly. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. He pulled out.

"your turn Megumi.... give me her mouth now" Gojo said. "Yeah sure" Megumi replied. "No no....nooooo not again!!!! Please I'm begging you" I screamed. Gojo grabbed my face and tilted my face up. His dick was now infront of me. Still hard... how can he still be hard after just having sex? "Sensei... please don't " I sobbed. Gojo smirked at me. "I also loved you. I still do. But you never came to me" he said and shoved his length in my mouth. On the other hand Megumi slammed his length inside. I closed my eyes and sobbed silently... cause I know there's no turning back now.

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[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field VII

summary: you didn't meet the requirements for the plinth prize, only to find out that you're not just missing out on that- you're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime. your friend wants to help, because maybe you can help each other.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.5k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and discussion of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing

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next part

"Mister Snow, Miss Y/L/N."

At the voice of the Dean, you're both shoving off of each other, faster than you believed it was possible for you to move. You slide back across the floor, stumbling to stand up at the same time as Coryo as Dean Highbottom stares you down.

You didn't realize how completely dead to the world you were it was too late. "Uh, Dean Highbottom." You say, noticing he wasn't about to speak anymore, just staring you down with disappointment. "We were just, um-"

"Don't even try." He cuts you off, holding a hand up to you to shut you up. "I knew it was an irresponsible decision to let the two of you work together on something apparently so important. You're both disqualified, effective immediately, and at the very least demerited. If I get it my way, you'll be expelled."

Coriolanus goes completely pale, fully in shock. He was screwed, without the prize he had nothing. It was his prize, they couldn't take that from him over a juvenile mistake.

"No." He looks at you, shocked, as you argue with the Dean. "Whatever you think you saw has nothing to do with Coryo's mentorship- with my mentorship."

He rolls his eyes. "Y/N, my decision is final."

"I don't think it is." You cross your arms. "And we both know why, and unless you want me to tell someone-"

"No." The Dean replies firmly, and you can see he's trying to hide his panic. "Just get back, please. And make it hasty." He waves you off, and the two of you rush along.

"What was that?" Coryo whispers to you once you are out of earshot.

"Nothing." You insist, not so much as looking in his direction now.

"No, that was not nothing, you threatened the Dean."

"What? No, I didn't." You try and lie, but he's smarter than that. Of course he's smarter than that.

"Yes, Y/N, you did. I was right there, I heard-"

"Coriolanus, it's in your best interest to drop it."

"But-"

"Now."

He sighs at the finality behind your statement. "What are we going to do? He told us that we're disqualified."

"We're not disqualified." You chuckle, shaking your head and stopping in the hall next to a reflective window to wipe off the smeared mascara from under your eyes.

"What if they take it out on Lucy Gray? She could be in serious trouble, here." He asks, and reasonably so. If this gets to Dr. Gaul, which he doesn't doubt that it will, it is not a stretch to assume that if they get disqualified, they will find a way to do the same to Lucy Gray.

"Oh, who cares Coryo? She's district." You scoff, cleaning your fingers on the underside of your skirt. You knew that Lucy Gray would be just fine, nothing that you could do would harm her, and you wouldn't want that. You really liked Lucy Gray, but why would he pinball from kissing you like it was his life in the balance to being so concerned for her in a minute?

"She's my tribute! If she doesn't win I am fucked- do you realize that? Do you realize how badly you could have screwed this up for me? My whole life depends on Lucy Gray right now!" At least it wasn't personal, you think at his outburst.

You let out a sigh, managing a small, smug smile. "Coryo, trust me. They won't hurt her- not on our account anyway. Just trust me."

Coriolanus sighs, running a hand over his face and then through his hair. You can't threaten a powerful man like Casca Highbottom with nothing; he's certain that you know something you most definitely should not, but what that could be is lost on Coriolanus. "Okay." He agrees, watching you as you finish cleaning up what's left of your makeup after your breakdown. Seemingly it's gone. To him, if he hadn't seen it, if you hadn't cried in his arms, he wouldn't have known it happened at all.

"But still, don't tell anyone. Yeah?" You add, turning back to face him now.

"Not a word." He promises.

You giggle, reaching up and wiping his mouth with your sleeve. "You've got a little lipstick, there..."

Coryo chuckles, pulling his head back to do it himself, attempting to cover the burning he can feel appearing in his cheeks. How you could go from crying, to kissing him the way you had, to angry and then back to your normal self could give him whiplash if he didn't know you better. Luckily, the idea of you has never scared him.

Lucy Gray hadn't made another appearance after Jessup's death that afternoon, so Coryo had gone home and come back with a couple of blankets and his pillow. He really just ran home, stripped his bed and showered before returning to you. In the morning you had folded everything up for him and tucked it in the bleachers next to you when other people started arriving. Why were you the only mentors who even decided to spend the night? It was laughable how much more you deserved a mentorship than any of them, but this is all the more chance to prove yourself. Your classmates make it so easy. It's not like you wanted them around, so it was a win-win through and through.

Coryo had been shocked that morning when Dr. Gaul arrived, not saying a word to either or you or even so much as sparing him a knowing glance. He had anticipated a very uncomfortable meeting with her following the events of the day before, but no such moment came. The Dean must have decided that keeping that secret was the right move.

It was itching at Coriolanus that you hadn't talked about it either, but he was not about to be the one to bring it up. Maybe he should go talk to Tigris about it- she had been kind enough to come in on her day off today to watch. Not that it mattered to him, though, it didn't. It was an act of comfort, just like the hug. He had asked you what you needed, and you answered with your actions. That was all. That's all it had to be, after all. You both needed to focus, and he needed to not start falling for you now- of all times. Even if deep down he knew this infatuation, if that's the right word, started years ago. The way he used to think it was hunger causing his stomach to lurch when you so much as looked at him, or that was the envy of your family wealth when you would show up to academy events in a dress that fit you so flawlessly it made the room spin around him, voices fading out to nothing. But no, that had always been side effects of hunger. Or at least, that's what he used to think. Until he got to hold you the way he has these last couple weeks, and the way your hair splayed out over his arm when you used him as a pillow last night, curled up on the floor in the academy.

Now, everything is different at the most inconvenient time possible. The worst part, the worst part of it all was that you seemed entirely unphased. That is why this was bothering him. That even though he's been fed, he's still so hungry.

God, you were so bored. You don't ever remember the games being this boring before, but that was when you could snack away on endless trays of hors d'oeuvres and your parents allowed you to drink with other party guests until the games were done by a reasonable hour in the evening. "Finally." You sigh, standing up as Lucy Gray emerges from the tunnel, likely in search of food or water.

Coral and her pack of seemingly mindless followers were making a move on attacking Lamina, which hardly had you lifting your head. "Y/N." Coryo summons you over and you smile, making your way to his side. "She looks like she needs something, but if I send anything the drone will point them right to her."

You hum in agreement, scanning the widescreen of the arena. "They have their own pile of water over there, she could take that if she sees it. And if she's quick." You point, as if somehow you could relay this information to her.

It feels like you did when you see her head lock in the direction of the pile of bottles, hand instinctually patting over her pocket. "She's checking if she still has it." You whisper to Coryo, breath fanning over his neck. He just nods, knowing this isn't a topic anyone could hear you discuss. "Looks like she doesn't want water, she wants them out. Smart." You add quietly, eyes locked on the screen.

"Sounds like you." He replies, making you smile to yourself.

The two of you watch on baited breaths as she waits for the right moment, and she finds the perfect one. She takes off toward the bottles, quickly and quietly just as you whisper for her to go, now.

"Watch, if she's really smart, she'll take one, then dump the rest." You say, watching as she just grabs one before darting to the middle, hiding under the rubble in the center while the others are still preoccupied. "Oh. Well, that's an interesting approach." You cross your arms, standing up straight again. At least this was at least exciting.

"Remind me why we didn't throw you in with them?" Coryo asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

"You kinda did, didn't you?" You laugh quietly, pretending to hit his shoulder.

"That's fair." He agrees, focussing once more on the screen, trying to keep track of Lucy Gray. She goes out of sight from any of the cameras underneath the debris, before emerging a few moments later and running over to the remaining water bottles.

"As you predicted..." Coryo sighs, gesturing to the screen you were already watching as she begins to dump the other bottles, placing the one she just had next to them.

"She just has to hurry." You reply, resisting the urge to gloat over your accurate call. And again, you were right because it isn't long after Lamina's now dead body falls to the ground and the other tributes finally notice Lucy Gray's presence, chasing her back into the tunnels. You're hoping the map you drew up for her was helpful, and that she can hide. If she dies down there, you won't know.

You give Coryo a high-five with both hands, feeling glares on you from the other mentors about the waste of their tributes water. They're just mad that they got stuck with tributes dumber than Lucy Gray, and you can't fault them for that. "Cake with the cream." The blonde grins at you, mocking Lucy Gray's accent.

"Snow lands on top." You smile back in confirmation, his hands wrapping into yours and shaking them happily. "Now we just have to hope that..."

You trail off, not getting the chance to finish as you see one of the other tributes stumble out of the tunnels and toward the lone water bottle Lucy Gray left. "Who do we have here?" Lucky's narration interrupts your thought process. "Ah, it's Ill Dill. Tuberculosis on legs." The shock of his statement has you dropping your jaw, laughing and earning you a glare from your classmate who was designated her mentor. It wasn't funny, truly, but just the shock of him saying that. Regardless, you hadn't seen her since day one, and even before then, she was incredibly sick. Never a threat, hardly a thought.

Coryo sees this shift in your demeanor, looking back to the screen as well and slowly dropping your hands. The tribute, Dill, you think, takes a sip, and the two of you hold your breath as she lays down next to the uncapped bottle, ceasing all movement after only a few moments with blood dripping from her nose onto the cement beneath her.

You glance nervously around the room, making sure no one is making the same connections you are, knowing what you know. So far, no one seems alarmed, but Dr. Gaul has apparently left- which is shocking to you. Regardless, Dill was knocking on death's door anyway, you're surprised she came out at all. You place your hand on Coryo's shoulder trying to be reassuring, as if to say no one knows.

It's at that moment where Reaper comes out, calling out for his district partner. She remains unmoving even as he runs to her side, trying to shake her awake. Cue the buzzer; that's one less tribute between Lucy Gray and you getting your dream job.

Your heart stops as he eyes the bottle next to her, your hand gripping tighter onto Coryo's shoulder. You're both waiting for the other shoe to drop, Reaper knows that something isn't right. Luckily for the two of you, he ignores it. He lifts the dead girl up, looking around before carrying her to Lamina's side under the beam. Followed by Marcus, then Jessup, then Bobbin.

"What's he doing?" You ask quietly among other whispers which you are sure that if you could hear them clearly would echo your sentiments.

"I don't know..." Coryo replies, slightly shaking his head as the boy moves away from his line of bodies and over to the wall.

You have to fight the urge to laugh when he rips the flag down from the wall, causing all sorts of chaos to break out in your theatre. "He just tore down the flag..." You hear Lucky say, and as you look around at the chaos it caused, it makes you want to cheer for the boy. He had been looking at the flag when you tried to speak to him just before the bombing- had he known?

He lays the large red fabric over the row of bodies, turning to look directly into the camera everyone is fixated on. You get chills as if he's staring at you directly. Personally. "Are you gonna punish me now?" He shouts, making people jump in the now, suddenly silent room. "Are you going to punish m-?"

He's cut off abruptly by the face of Dr. Gaul, in an apparent emergency broadcast. So that's where she went. Coryo sits up straighter to listen in, and you can feel him tense under your palm.

"I am devastated to announce that due to injuries sustained in the rebel bombing of the arena, another one of our academy students, the son of our President, Felix Ravenstill has died." You gasp, lifting a hand to cover your mouth as chatter erupts in the room. You never loved Felix, far from it, but it seemed to you that your classmates were dropping like flies. That would make anyone a little on edge. "We cannot allow the rebels to continually get away with such violent, senseless acts. This is why we have to retaliate, with something very special for our tributes in the arena. Even if that means there will be no winner." You don't hear what else she says as Coriolanus is abruptly pushing his chair back as he stands.

"Hey, what are you doing?" You ask as he starts to back away, eyes still locked on the screen. You reach out and grab his hand. "Coryo?"

"Where's your bag?" He asks, ignoring your question.

"Uh, over there." You point to your now unoccupied seat.

"Okay, I'm going to take it. I'll be back. Stay here." He prompts you, squeezing your hand for just a second before going and grabbing your bag, leaving in a flash.

"Alrighty then." You mumble to yourself, taking over his spot.

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[weebsinstash]

I know you mentioned that you aren't a big fan of pregnancy AU stuff in Hazbin, but hear me out...

Imagine Yandere Valentino getting his Darling pregnant to have a living bargaining chip to make sure she doesn't even try to leave him

New idea. What if the only people who can procreate in Hell are red string soulmates, or, it's like akin to ABO in the sense that not everyone or every combo of people could create a baby.

I was thinking about a yandere Valentino who has Reader as his red string soulmate whatever and you run away after seeing how truly abusive he is to other people, worrying for your own safety, and you're missing for like a straight year before Valentino finds out where you are, and... he's all but KICKING DOWN the door of your apartment, and he's looking at you like a hungry predator ready to pounce on you, cornering you, and

a baby starts crying from the other room and you're SPRINTING to the noise and Valentino finds you defensively holding a little bundle to your chest, growling snarling baring fangs holding a knife whatever at him, and Valentino thinks you adopted some other man's kid, some little imp bastard or something, and he's furious, he's raising his voice, he's getting closer, he's-

making perfect eye contact with a little tiny baby replica of himself as it turns to look at him with its big red eyes and chubby cheeks and fat arms and. It takes Val a few seconds to process it. The baby looks right at him and is whimpering and gurgling, upset, but doesn't cry. The baby boy sneezes and his antenna flip back and forth. He's got lil hearts in his fur and his teeny antenna are already so fluffy.

'Oh but aren't baby moths technically caterpillars--' shut the fuck up, you're demons and also that would be ugly as fuck. You want to give birth to a 20 armed baby or something. No. We save the truly inhuman babies for the human x monster/alien/whatever prompts. Your baby comes out a mini mothperson and it's fluffy and chubby and fucking adorable and also shut up

Val is just, SMITTEN, the narcissism is turned up to 100, he's rapid cycling emotions, "*GASPING* OUR BABY IS SO FUCKING CUTE, WHAT THE FUCK, I WANT TO HOLD HIM" "So I knocked you up good huh 😏" "*already on the phone in a group call with the other Vees and taking 200 pictures* you should see this thing, he looks just like me, can you even believe that, I can already tell he's gonna be so handsome and successful cuz he's MY son" "aw, amorcito did you think you needed to run away to protect our baby because I have so many enemies? You're such a good mama ❤️❤️❤️"

You spend like MONTHS lovingly protecting and sheltering your child until he's a healthy giggling little chubroll and Val has him for like two days and suddenly your baby has his ears pierced with diamonds in them and Valentino is walking around in his high heels and slutty bodysuits with your son in a papoose cuddled into his chest fur. You're holding your sleeping son while Val is beside you and someone sneezes across the room and the baby stirs and here's Valentino, "SHUT THE FUCK UP, MY SON IS SLEEPING", like, NOT ANYMORE YOU DUMB JACKASS???

'Oh gee why is Valentino suddenly funding and producing more erotic films involving moms and breeding and pregnant people and lactation-' you fucking know why and honestly I think it'd be SO FUNNY if he's like, "oh yeah, don't worry, I want you on birth control too mami. I missed fucking you and I kinda wanna do a lot of that without worrying about another little niño or two. At least not for a while :)"

Valentino on the red carpet being his cunty fashionable self while his baby is in a sling and they're both wearing matching outfits. Your baby boy has a tiny iced-up watch that's worth more than the entire building you were living in before his father found you. Your "husband" is posing half-naked with your baby on the cover of Demon Playboy which he owns, "HELL'S HOTTEST NEW DILF" like I COULD NOT WITH THIS MAN

And obviously he's got new kinks now that you're a mom and he absolutely fucks the hell out of you to the point you would get pregnant again without the birth control 😳 valentino on some real "is this the milk you've been feeding my baby with, let me try some" type stuff where he's milking you dry during his bang sesh and your son has to have formula that night because your tank is EMPTY 💀 YOU'RE A RAISIN LIKE THAT SCENE FROM SCOOBY DOO ZOMBIE ISLAND--

God. I've read horror stories about women getting pregnant again even WHILE being on multiple types of birth control so, then you get knocked up again Because Of Course You Would, You're Taking More Creampies Than A Professional Rodeo Clown, and what does Valentino say? "Fuck it, I wanna keep it! I can't just MURK my baby after it beat the odds, that's so ME!" And now you're having twin girls 💀💀💀 who knows, maybe having some daughters would teach Valentino to actually respect women--

I feel like you would wake up one morning and be genuinely hysterical because your baby is missing and you can't get in contact with Valentino and you're freaking out at the absolute highest level and it turned out to be some dumb shit like Val just took your son along with him for THE ENTIRE DAY and didn't think of mentioning it to you because "but you were needing a break and we were bonding, mami. We were having our guy time. I was leaving for work and he looked at me and he SMILED AT ME. What the fuck was i supposed to do, I couldn't just LEAVE HIM, he wanted his papi"

Of course, all these ideas hinge on the concept of Valentino actually caring for his baby. He could still genuinely use it as a tool against you. You're out running errands and suddenly you're getting a call. It's Valentino. He wants you to come home; you left the baby with Kitty so you could go out for a little while for some 'you time' since you've been trapped at home hiding ever since you ran from him before learning you were pregnant. It's not even about you leaving the baby with a nanny; it's about you not being home when Valentino came to visit you and him being uncomfortable not knowing exactly where you are and exactly what you're doing

Well, you got a little smart with him. You've just spent the last about 11 months living through hell with your pregnancy and hiding; you deserve to get some fresh air and walk out on the town and--- in the middle of you lecturing him you can just hear your baby making baby noises through the phone and Valentino just adopts this... tone in his voice, "amorcito, I came to spend time with you and our little frijolito and you're not heeee~ere. You know I can have trouble concentrating when I've had a few drinks and, earlier i dropped my phone on accident and i thought 'oh, it's good i wasn't holding something important"

You're home within 20 minutes and Valentino is cuddling into you while he puts some garbage on TV and pretends not to notice how you're trembling as you hold your son and send the occasional wary glance his father's way...

[suckerforblondeathletes]

Its you, it always has been - Caitlin Clark .2

Caitlin Clark x teammate reader

Summary: Caitlin shows up to Kate house to get reassurance from her friend. One thing leads to another she confronts Connor and confesses.

Warnings: Connor, cheating?, Kissing, hinting to sex

Authors note: This is ass but enjoy!

“Damn what happened to you” Kate says with a laugh as she opens the door wider to let Caitlin in. She hasn’t seen Caitlin look this shocked in a while. It has been two days since the Connor and shower incident. Lets just say y'all woke up together..

“Am I gay?” Kate laughs out loud at Caitlins words. “Oh my god Caitlin, I don’t know.” Kate can barely get the sentence out from all of the laughing. Never heard her friend say something like this. “KATE I FUCKED ONE OF OUR TEAMMATES AND I LIKED IT AND I THINK I HAVE FEELINGS FOR HER BUT IM WITH CONNOR AND I DONT EVEN FUCKING LIKE HIM BUT I LOVE THIS GIRL SO MUCH” Caitlin screams out in one breath. Making Kate’s laughing stop immediately and her face drop.

“Oh, umm okay.” Kate says, still in shock on what just happened. “Well, umm come and sit.” She gestures to the grey couch. Caitlin practically runs to it and faces Kate, putting her hands on Kate’s knee for her to be serious. “Kate, I liked it. She told me she did as well and she said she would do it again if she had the chance.” “Who?” Kate asks like a teenage girl in middle school, hearing the latest gossip her friend is spilling. “Promise you won’t say anything.” Immediately after Caitlin says it Kate throws up her pinky. “I promise”

“Okay, it’s ____” Caitlin says under her breath, almost inaudible but Kate heard it, she knew she heard it when Kate gasped like she just witnessed a crime scene. “Be so for real.” She said. Not believing the brunette. “Kate I’m dead fucking serious. And I’m in love with her. Is that gay?” Caitlin asks furrowing her brows asking the question. “Yeah that’s really gay Cait. So what are you gonna do?” Seconds pass before Caitlin answers “I don’t know. What will the public think?” “If it’s true love you feel for her, it doesn’t matter what they think”It feels like a century before Caitlin speaks again“You know what. Fuck it.” She says before jumping off Kate’s couch and running out the door. “Text me!” Kate screams before the door shuts.

-

Caitlins Pov:

I take a deep breath looking at our apartment. I’m about to do this, I don’t know what will happen. To be honest, I’m fucking terrified.

I grab my key and open the door. Connor is sitting on the couch. Not alone.

“Wow” I say, clapping my hands and slowly walking into the living room. “God!” He jumps, apparently very focused on the blonde on his chest. The naked one in fact. “Caitlin! What the fuck are you doing here!? I thought you left!” “It’s my apartment Connor. It was ours! But now it’s mine. Get out or I’m calling the cops!” I scream at him. The girl on his chest, well not anymore, looking absolutely terrified as she runs to grab her stuff and leaving quickly.

“Your gonna kick me out of my house?!” He screams at me. It doesn’t affect like it used to. “Do you pay bills? Do you clean? Do you cook? No you don’t. So get the fuck out.” He rolls his eyes at me, knowing he can’t fight me on that. “You’re so fucking sick. I hope you fucking die. I hope you loose all your fans doing this. They will see how abusive and toxic you are.” “Oh I’m sure they will, get the fuck out. Take your shit with you.”

I stand at the glass door, watching him and that girl walk away. I feel like my past just walked away from me. He was supposed to be my future. But I’ve found that somewhere else, I’ve found someone else. Some who loves me and cares for me. Someone I deserve.

－

Reader Pov:

I pull up to her apartment after her text. I run up the steps to see her at the door. We make eye contact through the glass door. I see tears start to fill her eyes as she send me a smile. She did it.

I rush to open the door and when I do I wrap my arms around her neck quickly. Hers going to their home at my waist. “I’m proud of you, you did what needed to be done.” I say, pushing on the back her head to be deeper in my neck. “I love you.” She says in my neck. My heart drops. She pulls her face out of the crook of my neck to look in my eyes. “I love you too” I pull our faces to meet.

Our lips lock perfectly. Like a puzzle, waiting to be solved. Questions are silenced, the world goes quiet. Nothing but our screaming love for each other. She pulls away to look in my eyes “I love you."

－

[ashwhowrites]

Oh, you're taking requests again? Then I have something for you!

So, we all know Eddie and the rest of Hellfire are bullied and harassed by Jason and his goons. And even Eddie himself says he's a runner, not a fighter. But ... what if his girlfriend was? What if she comes and steps between Jason and Eddie just before it gets ugly and with a few well placed punches and kicks sends Jason to his knees - getting his ass beaten by a girl.

I train kickboxing myself and I know I would never stand Idly by and watch my beloved boy get beaten.

And I think Eddie would find it rather hot :)

HI! I missed seeing your name in my inbox. This came out a little short so I hope that's alright. I hope this is what you were looking for and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting <3

I agree, as a person who is very protective of my partner, this would definitely be me.

Fighting girlfriend

Jason Carver picked on Eddie because he knew Eddie would never defend himself. Eddie was the perfect target. Eddie let it slide since Jason never got physical. He could handle the verbal abuse, and shrug off his comments and insults. Eddie was happy in his life and Jason wasn't going to ruin that.

Once Jason found out Eddie got a girlfriend, he became even more of a pain in Eddie's ass. Jason followed him around, making jokes that his girlfriend was imaginary since no one had seen her. Eddie rolled his eyes, tired of explaining over and over that she went to college.

Jason was on Eddie's back all day, but Eddie didn't care because his girlfriend was visiting for the weekend.

"Excited to see your fake girlfriend?" Jason joked, a smirk on his face as his friends laughed.

"She's real and yes I am. Why don't you go make out with one of your little fuck boys behind the bleachers." Eddie snapped, rolling his eyes as he walked to the parking lot. But Jason and his friends followed behind.

"Funny, Munson. But we all know you're trying to cover the fact your girlfriend is fake."

"who's girlfriend?" Y/N asked, a smile on her face as she walked up to Eddie. She took in the jocks in front of her, recognizing who they were.

"Oh great. You must be Jason and the goons?" She asked, Jason growled as Eddie laughed.

"What's a girl like you doing with trailer trash, Munson? You could have a real man like me." Jason smirked, eyeing her up and down.

Eddie clenched his jaw at Jason's words. Stepping up to Jason's face. "Don't talk to her and don't look at her."

"Oh, why not? Even I have to admit your girlfriend is smoking hot. Pretty face, sexy legs, and mhhm I bet she tastes good." Eddie growled at Jason, anger growing as he disrespected his girlfriend.

"Shut up before you regret it," Eddie warned.

"Or what? You won't do shit. You don't fight back. You are a fucking loser and good at nothing. Absolutely worthless. Bet your girl here fucks the whole bar just to get one good or-" Jason's words were cut off when a fist landed across his face.

Jason's head snapped to the side as he held his jaw. But Eddie looked as shocked as he did. That's when Jason noticed Y/N now stood between them, anger in her eyes as she breathed heavily.

"Don't you ever disrespect him again and don't you ever say shit about our relationship." She warned. But Jason just laughed. She looked at Eddie over her shoulder.

"Fucking pussy. Got your bitch fighting your battles."

Eddie watched in amusement as Y/N kneed Jason in the stomach, the second he dropped to his knees she landed another punch across his face. Jason fell against the concrete as blood fled out of his nose. All his friends dropped down to check on him.

"PSYCHO BITCH!" he screamed.

Eddie quickly grabbed her hand and ran when teachers began to come running out. They laughed as they ran.

"THAT WAS AMAZING!" Eddie screamed, grabbing Y/N and hiding behind a tree. He looked around the tree to see the teachers helping Jason stand up.

"No one talks to you like that." She said shrugging. "Protect my baby any day." A kiss was placed on Eddie's cheek.

"You were so badass and so fucking hot," Eddie growled, pressing his body against hers as she rested against the tree.

"Hm yeah? Like when psycho bitch protects you?" She teased, her hand sliding down his body to his belt.

"What kind of tricks does a psycho bitch have to take care of a different kind of threat?" Eddie joked, grabbing her hand to cup his hard-on.

"Gladly show you."

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Maybanks sister

Series masterlist, previous chapter

Chapter 6- you don’t need him

Summary: jj is struggling with the guilt he faces, Rafe and you help each other get through everything as always, and when Jj comes to apologize at tannyhill, how does Rafe feel?

Warnings: small short description of psychical abuse, slightly toxic!rafe, maybe ooc!jj?

“Dad! Dad-“ you shouted, desperately trying to get him off of your brother. Your shout was gut wrenching, your voice cracking and your eyes full of tears.

You finally managed to get him off, and you saw Jj staring at you, his face bloodied. His eyes struggling to stay open.

“Oh my God… Look what you fucking did! Look!” You cried, quickly getting down onto your knees next to JJ, ignoring your father behind you telling you he’s not worth it.

“It’s okay, JJ. It’s okay. You’re fine.” You mumbled, mostly to yourself, wiping away the blood on his cheek and the drool that fell when his mouth hung open.

Your tears fell onto JJ, the memory forever engraved into yours and his brain. He was only 15 at that point, it was his birthday. You were 17.

You’d always protected him, always. He felt a strong sense of regret, having to fight the urge to turn back and come back to you, telling you he’s sorry. He was pulled out of the memory when someone came up behind him, a hand on his shoulder.

“You okay, man?” John B asked him, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Rafe took you to Tannyhill, the ride was quiet the whole way.

And when he got there, Ward was standing outside, police cars and boats around.

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked back at Rafe. He held out an arm, telling you to stay in the car for a moment.

“I just saw Sarah.” Ward told him.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The next days, during the sentencing for John B, you and Rafe stayed in. He had become anxious, and you were the one to calm him down every time.

He had gotten to the point of multiple panic attacks, asking questions like what if they found out or what if they caught him.

“They won’t. They won’t, Rafe.” You whispered quietly, your hands on his face, and your eyes searching his. He looked down, shaking his head to himself.

When you saw the news that John B was captured and in prison, it had calmed Rafe down a bit. But a part of you felt bad.

That was your brothers friend, your brothers friend who you practically watched grow up with him, your brothers friend who had a crush on you in his awkward acne and braces phase.

You knew that JJ was planning a way to get him out.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

“-They’re gonna eject you to the hospital. You remember cousin Ricky?”

“Cousin Ricky, the weed dealer?”

“He’s an EMT.”

“He sold us our first dime bag.”

“So? You can do both. Gig economy, bro.”

“Jesus.” John B sighed.

“Okay, but step 3 is extraction-“ Jj continued his plan.

“Times up.” Plumb spoke, interrupting the two.

“Yes, ma’am. You gotta trust me on this one.” Jj said, staring at John B. “Nothing to lose now. Eleven PM.” He stood up, and walked out.

He heard talking, when he suddenly saw a familiar face. He turned back, doing a double take, he stared out at the window, stepping closer.

He watched his father play basketball, and began banging on the door.

“Dad! Dad!”

“Let’s go.” Plumb said, grabbing him.

“Dad!”

“Let’s go.” She repeated, peeling him away from the window.

He turned back, his jaw clenched as he walked.

“I see what you did there, Plumb.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Rafe was speaking to his dad in the living room while you sat on the bed, texting back with your cousin.

You decided to tell him that Luke was in prison. He wasn’t very surprised. And somehow the topic went back to Jj.

“He’s an asshole, you know how he is.”

“I feel bad, tho.” You typed.

“Don’t feel bad, He’ll come back, I mean what’d you do for him to get pissed at you?”

“Pretty bad shit.”

“He’s always off doing pretty bad shit anyways. He’ll come back to you.”

“Hope so. Thanks Ricky.” You typed,

“Anytime.”

You shut off your phone, staring at the ceiling for a moment before you heard something hit the window. A rock.

You furrowed your eyebrows, turning your body, then standing up and looking out to see a small figure in the yard. Was that…

“Jj?” You mumbled to yourself, opening up the window. He waved.

“Jesus Christ.” You groaned, shutting the window and quickly gathering your stuff, and heading downstairs.

You opened and shut the door quietly, stepping outside and seeing JJ.

“What the fuck do you want, JJ?” You asked him, walking towards him. He stood, staring at you and back at the house behind you.

His hands were shoved in his pockets.

“You know dads in jail?”

“Yeah… so what?” You told him.

“And you didn’t think to tell me…?”

“I wanted to, J, but I couldn’t have-“

“Why? Why couldn’t you have, y/n?” His voice raising, you put your hand over his mouth.

“If any one of them hear you they’re gonna be fucking pissed. C’mon.” You mumbled, walking away from the house, but he stood there.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked again.

“Because, I thought you would blame me. I just found out not that long ago, and I didn’t know how to tell you.” You spoke, your back to him. You turned around now.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“Is that why you came? To just say that?”

“No. I’m sorry. I- I said some shit back at the dock… shit I didn’t mean…” he paused. “And I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widened at his words. It was rare for him to apologize like this. It was silent for a little.

“You have to get it, that I just… why him?” He asked, referring to Rafe.

“Because he’s the one who was there for me when no one else was. He was there for me when you weren’t.”

He stayed quiet now.

“But I get why you weren’t. Looking back at it, I haven’t treated you the best either. You’re my younger brother. And I should have protected you more-“

“Don’t.” He spoke up, quietly. “You did-“

“Well, what do we have here? Maybank, don’t you know you’re trespassing?” Rafes voice interrupted, stepping down to the both of you.

You both turned around at the voice.

“I was just on my way, cupcake.” He clicked his teeth, and turned around.

Rafe was behind him quickly, a hand on his shoulder, tightly gripping it.

“Don’t come near here again.” He whispered into his ear. “I will fucking shoot you on sight.”

“Mmm.. I’ll look forward to it. I would love to stay and join your tea party… but I have some other shit to get to.”

“You have some nerve showing up here, JJ.” He shouted when he began to walk away, Jj flipping him off from behind his back.

“Rafe, he was just-“ you began.

“Do I need to remind you that he was the one who made you cry like a fuckin’ baby the other day?” He turned to you now.

You were taken aback at his words. Stepping back as he walked towards you.

“I told you, you don’t need him. Or anyone else.”

“He’s my brother, Rafe…”

“And when has he ever done anything good for you?”

You stayed silent. He walked closer, a small sigh escaping his mouth. You slightly flinched when his hands went up. They made their way to your face, cupping it.

“I’m just trying to protect you, baby. Don’t want you getting anymore hurt than you already have been by him, or anyone else.”

—

Taglist:

@cassie0sstuff

@rafesgiirl

@fals3-g0d

@tiaamberxx

@callsignwidow

[callsign-magnolia]

Undiagnosed // Ch. 21

Mature Content 18+

Jake Seresin x Neurodivergent OC

Summary: Katie Blair grew up trying to be the perfect daughter. She always struggled to be the prim and proper little girl her parents wanted. Big personality as a kid, but now at 25, she's the shy admiral's daughter who just keeps her head down and tries to get through law school. So what happens when she's had enough and with help from a certain Lieutenant, she gets out.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, trauma response, abusive parents, smut, mentions of thoughts of suicide.

Word Count: 3.6k

Chapter 20 | Masterlist

“Who do you think you are-” “Shut up!” I yelled as I turned to face her. She closed the door a shocked look on her face. “How fucking dare you.” I said as I pointed at her. “How dare I?” I nodded. “Yeah. As I grew up I realized what a shitty mother you were but I never expected this kind of low from you!” She was reeling. “Shitty mother? You should be grateful to us! We raised you with only the best-” “AND I WAS MISERABLE!” I screamed. “You raised me with so much fucking trauma! You want to know why I was so ‘emotional’? Maybe you should read these!” I tossed the papers at her, the paper clip keeping them together. She grabbed them and within a second her face fell. “How did you get these?” She asked. “My doctor gave them to me when I went to see her today. Asked me of I was taking anything for my ADHD and depression.” I’m sure my face was tinged red, showing how angry I am and I hope she understands the severity of this. “You didn’t tell me.” I seethed. “You didn’t tell me when you knew of ways to help me.” I said as I stepped closer. “Instead you let me suffer and struggle and be made fun of and called the weird kid my entire childhood.” I was in her face by the time I finished. “You let me suffer and consider suicide at fucking thirteen years old when I could’ve been in therapy and on medications to make me function better!” “They only gave us this diagnosis to shove pills down your throat! You don’t have any of this! You were and are just a bad misbehaved child! You needed what our parents gave and that was a good ass whooping! I messed up with you because I was too soft on you.” She stepped past me and I was shocked. 

“Too soft on me?! Smacking me in the face was too soft? Daddy beating the hell out of me with a belt was too soft?! You’re sick in the head!” I said and she scoffed. “I did what I had to do-” “No, you did what you thought was easy! Because you couldn’t buck up and be a decent person or a good mother! Because having patience for your child was too hard!” “WE COULDN’T HANDLE YOU!” She screamed in response. “YOU WERE THE WORST BEHAVED CHILD I HAD EVER MET!” It shouldn’t have but it stung. “We couldn’t handle you! I couldn’t stand to be in the same room with you! Especially when you were a baby! You would just cry and cry and I almost just stopped taking care of you all together but I knew if you died your father and I would be in prison!” My chest heaved at her words. It hit me hard how little she truly cared. I walked over and snatched the papers as a coughing fit hit me. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and you’ll drop dead. It’s the least you deserve after all these years of torture and abuse.” She laughed loudly at my words. “I’ll be here good and long after you’re dead. If I’m lucky I’ll watch them lower your casket.” I stopped in my tracks at her words. “No, you won’t. Because now I have a happy life and I’m away from the misery you’ve inflicted on me!” I said as I turned away from her and headed for the door. “Oh by the way, I was at the doctors for a flu diagnosis. Hopefully one of your lungs will collapse and you’ll suffer on the floor.” Her face dropped. My mom rarely got sick but she’s in her sixties so she’s more susceptible. “You little bitch!” She rushed forward and raised her hand but my fingers wrapped around her wrist, effectively stopping her. My free hand came back before my own palm connected with her face and she stumbled back. 

My chest heaved as I looked at her down on the floor, holding her face as she breathed heavily. “It hurts doesn’t it?” I asked and she moved her hand, revealing a red mark. “All the times you and daddy hit me, it didn’t just hurt physically. I sat there and I wondered what I could’ve done to deserve it, what made you hate me. But now I know all I had to do was be born. Don’t worry, you’ll never see or hear from me again. You can start pretending I never existed.” With that I walked out the front door, slamming it on my way out. I got in the truck and immediately left. I picked up my medicine before going home. As soon as I was home I grabbed all my stuff and went inside. When I got the door closed and latched everything hit me at once. I leaned against the door as the sobs hit and sunk down till my knees were against my chest. I almost feel like it would be better if I did something to make them hate me, but simply my mere existence made my mother want to go as far as kill me. Having my mother confirm they never loved me hit hard and I feel like my heart is being split apart. Eventually I got up and took a shower, knowing it may make me feel a little better. Once I was out I dried off, took my medicine and crawled into the spare bed in the guest room. I wanted to do my best to keep Jake from getting sick and that meant sleeping in here for a while. My mind raced with all the thoughts and memories of my parents, how I never truly did anything, they just hated me. Tears ran down my face, soaking my neck and pillow as I cried myself to sleep. 

Fingers ran through my hair and roused me from my sleep. “Hey, darlin’. Why you in here?” Jake whispered, leaning down to kiss my temple. “I didn’t wanna get you sick.” I mumbled. “I appreciate that. What did the doctor say?” Everything came rushing back and tears came to my eyes. I sat straight up, keeping the covers against my chest as I looked away from him. “I-I do have the flu.” I said as I rubbed my eyes. He hummed and kissed my bare shoulder. “I’ll make some soup for dinner.” I shook my head. “You don’t have to. I’m not hungry.” He raised a brow at me. “Are you sure?” I nodded, giving him a small smile. “I’m sure.” He sighed and kissed my head again. “Okay, you’ll holler if you need me right?” I nodded as I laid back down and he stood. “I love you, Jake.” I whispered as he walked towards the door. “I love you too, Katie.” He closed the door behind him and my tears came back. I leaned over to my purse in the chair next to the bed and pulled out my diagnosis papers. I read over them the words depression, attention deficit hyperactive disorder, and autism glared at me from the white paper. If Jake saw this would he change his mind? Would he no longer love me? The thought terrified me. I couldn’t lose him. He’s a big part of me figuring out who I am without my parents, I’m not sure I could turn around and figure out who I am without him. “I won’t tell him. He can’t know.” I said as I stuffed the papers back in my purse, laying down again. “I can’t tell him. “ I muttered, fingers gripping my pillow tightly. 

Two days later I still felt like shit and I haven’t eaten. “Katie darlin’, you have to eat. You’re starving yourself right now.” Jake muttered as he came into the guest room. “Jake, I’m just not hungry.” I was sitting up in bed doing some school work and this was the third time today he’s asked me to eat. I’ve been drinking a bunch of water but I had no appetite. “You’re not going to get any better just sitting there and not eating. You’re only gonna get weaker and it’ll take you longer to get over this.” I huffed, closing my eyes. “Jake. I am not hungry. Now please, stop pestering me about it.” I said. “Katie, you have to eat.” I slammed the lid of my laptop closed. “Jake! I am not hungry! Now for the love of God JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!” I yelled and he stepped back in surprise. I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Jake, I'm sorry. I just don’t feel good and I just want to be left alone.” I set my laptop on the table and laid back down, my back to him and the door. He sighed before leaving and closing the door and more tears streamed down my face. Another day passed by, it was almost time for Jake to come home from work and I was in the kitchen finally trying to make myself something to eat. 

I had decided to just do some noodles with a little chicken and tomato sauce. The chicken was already cooked so I just tossed it into the pan with the sauce. I leaned against the counter reading as I waited and when the timer went off for the noodles I heard the front door open. I grabbed the pot and walked it to the sink to drain them but as I went to tilt it I lost my grip and the pot went into the floor spilling noodles and boiling water everywhere. “Katie?” Jake sounded concerned and came into the kitchen. I just stared at my food on the ground and everything within me broke. “Dammit!” I screamed, grabbing the pot and slamming it down onto the counter. “I can’t even just make fucking pasta!” I felt like all of my emotions were just gonna explode out of me. “What dumbass can’t make pasta?!” My hands went into my hair as tears burst from my eyes. I felt like I was having a complete breakdown. “Katie, darlin’. Your feet!” My feet had been covered in boiling water but I honestly couldn’t bring myself to care. Jake rushed over, lifting me till I was sat on the counter. “Oh, Katie, your feet.” They were an ugly shade of red and I could feel them throbbing. Jake cut the sink on and turned me till he could stick my feet under the cool water. “Stay there while I clean this up.” I just stared at my feet in the sink. Jake cleaned up my mess and took my chicken off the stove before turning to me. He cut the water off and grabbed a paper towel to dry my feet. “I’m sorry.” 

He looked at me with raised brows. “Why are you sorry?” He asked as I started to cry. “You just got home and I made a mess and I just let you clean it up. I should’ve stopped you and done it myself. God I’m such an awful person! I can’t even cook for myself without making a huge ass mess and I’ve been so mean to you when all you’ve tried to do is help me and-” I was startled when his large hands gently grabbed my face. “Hey, hey. Where is all this coming from?” He asked as he stared into my eyes and I started sobbing. I was sobbing hard and he just pulled me into him and held me. I clutched to him like a child as my tears soaked his clothes. His hand rubbed my back and he whispered soothing words to me as he held me. “I’m sorry!” I cried into his shoulder. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He held me for a few more minutes until I calmed down and I sat up and looked him in the eyes. “I went and saw my mother a few days ago.” His eyes widened and his face turned red. “Katie, why would you do that?” He didn’t sound mad, but he looked it. “I-I had to confront her. I couldn’t go the rest of my life without talking to her.” I spit out, hoping to ease his anger but I realized I had brought up a whole other situation with it. “Confront her about what?” He asked, confusion all over his face. I bit my lip, not knowing how to tell him. “Katie, what is going on? Is this part of why you’ve been acting weird the last few days?” He asked as his hands slid from my face to my neck. 

I slid off the counter and walked away, up to my room and he followed close behind. “Katie.” He asked as he stopped in the doorway. I had the paper in my hands and I stared at it. “When I went to the doctor I discovered a few things about myself. Things my parents never told me. N-no matter how you feel about this I’ll respect it. If you want to break up we can, if you want me to leave I will-” “Darlin’.” He walked over and grabbed my hand, pulling me to sit on the bed next to him. “You need to talk to me, Katie.” I sighed, holding the paper out to him. I buried my face in my hands as he read it. I’m not sure how long we sat in silence for but when I sat up his arms were hanging down between his legs as he stared straight ahead. “Jake?” I asked. “I can’t believe this.” He muttered, looking down at the paper again. “Jake, I’m sorry-” “You’re sorry?!” He jumped up and I got scared, he stood over me and I could swear smoke was coming out of his ears. “How can you be sorry when you have nothing to be sorry for?!” He asked and I was confused. “Your parents, the two people who were supposed to love you and take care of you kept something this big from you? Your entire life?” He asked, staring at the paper again. “Yeah.” I muttered, looking down at my hands, not wanting to meet his gaze but I yelped when I was grabbed and he pulled me into him. He squeezed me and I stood still for a second before hugging him back. 

“Katie, I swear to you, your parents will never be able to hurt you again.” I pulled away, meeting his gaze. “Yo-you don’t think I’m weird or want to break up?” I asked and he set the papers down before pulling me into him again, one arm around my waist, the other cradling my face. “Katie, I fell in love with you. Everything about you. Every little quirk in your personality, all of it. Katie, all of this is what makes you you and I fell in love with every bit of it. Now there’s just a name for all of it.” Tears soaked my cheeks as I bit my lip. “I love you, too.” I said before squeezing him to me. He held me as I cried, rubbing my back. “Is this what you confronted your mom about?” I nodded, wiping my eyes. “I was so angry when I found out I barged my way into her house and yelled at her.” He cracked a small smile. “And I hit her.” I confessed and his face fell. “I’m going to assume she hit you first?” I tilted my head side to side. “She attempted but I stopped her and then hit her.” My face burned with a blush. “Well it was self defense.” I hummed as my eyes locked on the door behind him. “I asked her if it hurt. I hope it did. I want them both to hurt like I have my entire life.” Jake’s face fell and he tilted my chin so I was looking at him. “They’ll get what they deserve Katie, but it’s also not good to wish harm on people.” I knew he was right, it would only tank my mental health. “You’re right.” I muttered and he held the back of my neck, pulling me towards him till his lips pressed against my forehead. “Why don’t you go put some burn cream on your feet, crawl in bed with some socks, and I’ll make your food and bring it to you.” I shook my head. “My feet don’t hurt, and I can make my food. You just got home from work-” He stopped me, shaking his head. “I just got home from work and I want to make you food. You’re exhausted from being sick and constantly thinking about what’s on these papers.” He said as he shook said papers. “I want you to relax and finally get some rest.” I sighed, giving in. “Okay.” I said and he smiled. “And you need to go get in our bed, I haven’t been sleeping right with you in here.” I pursed my lips. “Jake, I’m still sick.” I said and he shrugged. “If I haven’t gotten it yet, I won’t now.” I sighed again and nodded. “Okay. Where’s the burn cream?” I asked and he grinned. “Under the cabinet, in the first aid kit.” I nodded, trudging out. 

I did as he asked and put the cream on my feet and slid some fuzzy socks over them  before crawling in bed. I curled up facing Jake’s side, his smell wafting into my nose and I quickly drifted off. “Darlin’.” I immediately woke up, looking up at him as he held a tray. “Sorry, it was so easy to fall asleep.” I said as I sat up. He set the tray next to me and chuckled. “You’re exhausted. I reheated some of that tomato soup you had in the freezer, and made you a grilled cheese.” He said before kissing my temple. “Mm, thank you.” I muttered. I set the tray in my lap as he stood from kneeling on his side of the bed. “I’ll be back, gonna get you something to drink.” I just hummed as I started eating. It was good and I could already tell I was starting to feel better. After a minute Jake came back in with ginger ale and a second tray. “Here.” He sat the drink on my tray and sat next to me before kicking off his shoes. I watched as he wandered around the room, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and kicking off his jeans and longhorn shirt before slipping the sweatpatns on and crawling in bed with me. “Thank you for this, Jake.” I said as I leaned back against the pillows. “You’re welcome, darlin’.” He grabbed my hand, kissing it gently before letting go and grabbing the remote. “Okay, let’s see what movie we can find.” 

The following week I was much better and went back to school although I was shaking on Tuesday for clinicals. “Hey, glad to see your feeling better.” I was startled by Crystal’s voice as I walked into the break room. “Oh, yeah. The flu really kicked my butt.” I pulled out the breakfast sanwich Jake made for me before he went to work and sat across from her. “Last time I had it I didn’t think I was gonna make it out alive.” She said and chuckled. “Thankfully mine wasn’t that bad.” I told her. “Well let me know when you’re done and we can get started.” I furrowed my brows in confusion. “Get started?” She nodded. “Yeah, you’re with me. I was the only one who didn’t get one of you so you’re with me.” She smiled at me and I felt so relieved. “Oh, thank god. I was scared I was going to be paired up with someone mean.” I laughed. I had heard from Starla that the nurse she was paired up with was awful towards her and she left here crying on the second day of clinicals. Crystal chuckled and shook her head. “No, just me. Meet me out at the nurse’s station once your done.” I nodded and continued eating. Soon others filed in including Annie. “I’m so glad you’re back. Brooke and I are studying at her apartment tonight, we wnated to know if you wanted to join?” I nodded. “Let me see how I feel after today and I’ll let you know before we leave.” She gave me a thumbs up before walking out. 

Once I was done I cleaned up and walked out towards the nurse’s station. Most of the rooms were dark and empty as I walked by and rounded the corner to see Crystal in front of a computer. “Okay, have a seat.” She said as she rolled a chair over. “Kim is going to review all of our patients with us.” I nodded and sat down with my notepad and pen. Once we got everything I blinked rapidly. “You okay?” Kim asked and I nodded. “Yeah, it’s just a lot to take in and I already feel like I’ve missed so much.” Kim and Crystal both nodded. “Well better get used to it sweetheart. It’s all fast paced around here.” I nodded and she smiled before standing. “I’m getting out of here. I have the next three days off and I’m only going to use them to sleep.” Crystal and I both said our goodbye’s before she stood. “So, you wanna go check some vitals with me?” I nodded rapidly, excited to get started.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @graceandpursuit @cherrycola27 @daisydaisygoose @rosiahills22 @deanoheartspie @cornishkat @high-speed-r @fogle97 @mygyn @ohgodnotagainn @emma8895eb @senjoritanana @kmc1989 @sandaltoesocks @dempy @itsdesiree86 @sunderland-6 @jstarr86 @brooke-stinson @rachkon @topguncultleader @bethbunnyy @topgun-imagines @clancycucumber230 @seitmai @kkrenae @djs8891 @shanimallina87 @wildxwidow @eugene-emt-roe @hisredheadedgoddess28 @littlewhiterose @formulapierre @wade-wilsons-chew-toy @bethabear @halstead-severide-fan @gg-trini @memeorydotcom @schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker @inthestars-underthesun @praline357 @fanboyluvr @greaser9902 @felinegrate @lemmons1998 @thegoddessc @lynnevanss @daddyslittlevillain

[hp-hcs]

i love ur fics sm omf.....

i am massively abnormal and mentally ill so thinking ab yan theo and mattheo with a gryffindor reader, clearly toxic but in which reader tries to break up with them .... failing miserably and just getting manipulated by them about how he's gonna get hurt and everyone but them wants to hurt him. he refuses to believe which just makes them go take the violent route since he was making it hard for them 🙁

and could i possibly be 🦦 anon? hope im not bothering, have a nice day or night !! <3

of course you can, lovely 🦦 anon!!

i absolutely adore the amount of angst in this request

also no i totally didnt base a lot of this on my own ex bf what no thatd be crazy

abuse warning! stay safe!!

toxic — yandere! manipulative! theodore nott x gn! reader x yandere! manipulative! mattheo riddle

requests open

‼️heavy abuse warning‼️

(physical, verbal, emotional, & psychological; lots of manipulation and gaslighting)

U.S. National Domestic Violence Hotline: 800-799-7233

Text line: Text START to 88788

YOU DESERVE SAFETY. YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“We’re breaking up. I can’t do this anymore.”

Theodore looked up at you quizzically from where he was reading on the couch. “Hm?”

“I’m breaking up with you. Both of you.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Mattheo sighed, shaking his head. “We can’t in good conscience let you do that.”

“See, here’s the thing, Matty,” you laugh humorlessly. “I don’t care.”

“But baby,” Theo said softly, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at you with puppy dog eyes.

You steeled yourself as you started to feel the melting effects of that damn expression of his. “I can’t. Not anymore. It’s too fucking exhausting.”

“What is, baby?” Theodore pleaded, reaching out to grab your hand. “Tell us so we can fix it.”

The urge to shy away from this conversation, to apologize profusely for trying to leave, and to shove all of your emotions down until you felt numb again was overwhelming.

Theo rubbed the knuckles of your hand with his thumb. “Baby…”

You took a breath and steeled yourself again. “The everything, Theo. The lying. The cheating. The benders every weekend. The screaming at each other and the ghosting me. The waiting for me to come crawling back to you. Begging you to take me back every fucking time. Apologizing for everything even when it wasn’t my fault.”

“Ba-”

“No. I’m talking right now. The manipulation. The love bombing. I’m sick of it. I’m. Done.”

“Now, c’mon, darlin’,” Mattheo said placatingly. “Don’t be like that. You know none of that was our fault.”

“None? You slept with half of our year while we were dating.”

“Are,” Theo corrected. “Are dating.”

“Cute. No.”

“Baby, who else could possibly love you as much as we do?” Mattheo pouted, reaching out for your wrist and using it to tug you down onto his lap.

You stiffened, trying to free your wrist from his slowly tightening grasp. “Literally anyone. It’s not like you guys do anything.”

“Don’t do anything? Sweetheart, we protect you,” Theo chuckled with a sharp smile.

“Oh yeah?” You scoffed, managing to free your wrist and get out of Mattheo’s lap. “Protect me from who?”

“There’s a lot of bad people out there, doll. People who’d want to hurt you if they got the chance.”

“What, like you?”

“We’ve never laid a hand on you, sweetheart. Not once,” Mattheo sneered the last word like a curse, his greedy hands reaching out to snatch your arm again.

You flinched minutely, stepping back from his grasping hands. “I don’t care. We’re over, whether you like it or not.”

“Oh, stop it, darlin’,” Theo cooed patronizingly, standing up from the couch and crowding into your space. “You need us. Who else would care about you as much as we do? Who else would want you?”

“I. Don’t. Care.” You gritted out, shoving at his chest.

The boys shared a look—one you couldn’t quite read.

Suddenly, Theodore caught your jaw in his hand, squeezing tight. “You’d better shut up, sweetheart. Before one of us gets mad.”

“Dude, are you threatening me? I wi-”

Your sentence was cut off by a harsh slap.

You froze, mouth hanging open.

Your hand slowly went to your stinging cheek as you stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

Theo at least had the tact to look guilty. “Baby- baby, I’m so sorry- it was an accident, I swear.”

You didn’t move, still processing what had just happened.

“Sweetheart? Darlin’, I’m sorry. I really am. You were just making me so mad…It was an accident, swear. It’ll never happen again, promise,” he cooed gently, stooping down to cup your cheeks in his hands with utter gentleness and care.

He hissed sympathetically when you flinched back from the pressure on your already-reddening cheek, gently stroking his thumb over it.

As you looked up at his apologetic and remorseful expression, you could feel a flicker of tenderness as you were reminded of the sweet boy you fell in love with in the first place.

“It’s okay, Theo,” you whispered, your words betrayed by the way your voice cracked. You swallowed thickly, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. “It was an accident.”

Theo made a show of sighing in relief. “Thank you, darling. But now you know to shut your mouth, don’t you baby? You know I don’t wanna hear you fucking saying that shit again, mhm?”

You just nodded mechanically.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

hey! guess what! it absolutely will happen again! if your partner ever hits you, call a friend to come get you and then leave. it’s not worth it to stay, trust me.

to my taglisters! i haven’t tagged you in this due to its sensitive content. you know your boundaries and limits better than i do. stay safe.

— hp-hcs xx

[icarusredwings]

Subway (b)Rat

Rated Explicit for sexy romantic comedy.

~6k words.

Consider this a gift for my Kinktober fans (I KNOW IT'S THE 29TH SHUT UP) and an apology on the behalf of @bougiebutchbinch for making you all so sad with THIS post.

Authors note: Mentions of cablepool because I think every time this man is mentioned, Logan feels the undying urge to reclaim Wade. The Summer's bloodline is intertwined with his too much, and it's ruining his life lmao. Summers is to Logan how Dinkleberg is to Timmy’s dad.

And yes, I'm aware this is pretty vanilla/Tame, but you know what? You're gonna read it anyway because I wrote it for you. And it would be rude if you didn't. Also, shout out to the font change method because I was STUCK stuck.

CW: Semi public, teasing, an unGODLY amount of kissing, choking, spanking, stretching, praise kink, mind breaking, biting, scratching, blood, cancerous cysts, prostate cancer, mentioned sub drop, physical exhaustion, Lovey dovey shit, Logan being a good top, drippy creampie, self hate talk, mentions of a dead pigeon, breath play, god what else uhhmm, puppy play if you squint, overstimulation, hair pulling, breeding kink, free use, light public humiliation, fourth wall break.

Thinking about how Wade sometimes insults himself too much to the point of comparing himself to a diseased subway rat with mange or a filthy gas station bathroom. How they stink are collectively hated, and everyone abuses them because of how disgustingly ugly they are.

This is Logan's breaking point. He's tired of hearing this. Tired of telling him to shut up. Tired of him truly thinking that he could only love him all dolled up. Well, guess what, honey? Maybe the Wolverine is into naked subway rats. They were scavengers, after all.

So he decided to do something about it. After a joke, when he compared himself to a dead pigeon on the tracks, Logan growled lowly in his throat. It was the final straw. Grabbing his wrist, he pulled him off of the locomotive and across the platform deck as he held their bags of household items and their lunch.

"Hey! Peanut, We're gonna miss our stop! I know you don't get the subway because of how old you are and everything but-"

Taking him into the bathroom, he threw him into a stall with a 'omph', slamming the door shut behind them.

"What? Am I in timeout or are you araid to piss by yourself, handsome? Kind of fitting that you picked the grossest one for me. There's piss on the floor right ther-"

Clamping a hand over his mouth, he growls close to his face. "SHUT. UP."

Of course, he only licked his palm. It's not like he cared, though. He's done far more nasty stuff before. And far uglier people.

Wade always thought that he was Sooooo bad. And soooo ugly, but in truth, he was just an annoyingly loveable idiot with cancer.

That's not his fault. Logan would never judge him for something that wasn't his fault and couldn't help. The only way he'd ever get better is if the CIA stopped killing everyone who cures cancer. Hank got close once, but he got told to stop immediately or else.

Letting him go, he put the bags on one of those purse hooks, moving them so that he was sitting and Wade was on his lap, his dirty white and black, improperly tied converse reaching the floor.

"You're a fucking moron, you know that?"

"Aww thanks muffin, Oh wait-" He gasps, "Omg wolvie are you about to fuck me in a dirty bathroom!?"

"Shh! Not if you don't shut up."

"Loagie you know I can't. It's a medical condition." He says in a dead serious whine.

Logan smirked, scoffing as he put a hand on his L.A. idol's. (You know the ones with the rhinestone cross on the ass? Yeah. Something about making his 'butt look good' and how they were 'all the craze back in his day' so now whenever he found them at thrift stores he snatched a pair or two.) And another on his tattered gray New York hoodie, pulling his hood off as he grabbed the front.

Whining a bit, he tried to put the hood back up, but Logan pulled the strings so tight that he couldn't.

"Nice try. Not happenin' I like seein' yer pretty face." He smirks, pulling the strings so he is close to him, showing those canines of his as he smirked in triumph, having felt cocky for thinking a step ahead of him.

This only led him to use his arms instead, putting his face into them instead. "Nnooo... Stop lying to me.."

Rolling his eyes, Logan leaned back against the toilet, shifting his hand to grab at his arms, moving those too. "Are you really gonna fight me for a kiss?"

A small, cheeky nod.

"Alright. But remember, you started this, not me."

Giving his ass a good slap, Wade let out a yip, giving Logan enough time to grab him by the wrists, shifting to pin his back against the stall wall. With the other hand, he gave a little tug at the bottom of the oversized hoodie.

"Wait, is this mine?"

Wade giggled but still tried to hide in his shoulder, not wanting him to see at all and now that they've made it a game? Even better.

"Oh yeah? So that's how we're going to be? God, you're such a brat."

Another nod. "Nu-uh."

"Guess you won't mind if I flip ya then?"

"Huh?" Turning just slightly, Logan stole a peck, making him squeal and his face get darker, quickly shoving it back into his arm, giggling.

"That wasn't fair!" He whined, muffled from the fabric.

"Sorry, what was that? Can't hear you over how big of a pussy you're being."

Gasping again, he turned to scold him, only to be kissed yet again. "Wolvie!! Not fair!"

"Mmh.. so fair." He whispers, kissing down the part of the jawline, he let stay exposed, nipping his ear and working his way down.

The soft groans into the arms of the hoodie were nice, but he would rather them be clear. Flipping him over, he put his fingers over the side of the stall. "Keep them there, Got it?" He says, Letting a hand run over his sides and another over the hard plastic stones that covered his ass cheeks.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll stop and force you to wait until we get home."

"Hm..What happens when we get home?"

"You'd have to wait another 6 stops to find out. Do you really want that?"

Thinking for a moment, Wade loved a good tease, a nice edging, but 6 stops?? No, thank you. Far too long. He shook his head.

"So are you going to keep them there?"

A quick nod.

"Good." Again, he slapped him, one of the rougher ones that he always liked. They made him feel wanted and appreciated. Logan knew this because, as embarrassed and growly, he got it whenever Wade stole a slap, he felt the same warm feelings run up his spine into his chest.

"Eehh!! K-keep doing that and you won't even get to touch me." He teases.

"Man you're weird... did you just say if I hit you enough you'll cum?"

"Probably." He shrugs, jolting his hips forward a bit as Logan rubbed over the front.

"I don't know how you could cum at all in pants 2 sizes too small.." he mumbles, leaning his chin on his shoulder as one hand tried to slide in the back but barely could get his fingers half way in the seams.

"They aren't tight tight, I just have a big ass and a boner all the time."

"Or all that squat training you do."

"Mmmh yes... 'squat training’... hey you don't think we could-"

"Shut it. Do your job." Pushing a couple fingers in his mouth, Wade let out a groan, immediately beginning to work on them, sucking and licking all over, a bit of a chew once in a while. Oral fixation and whatnot.

While he did this, Logan began to unbutton the front, slowly unzipping the front, carefully as he knew damn well just by the feeling that he didn't have any underwear on. It's the whole reason they came out, actually. To get laundry detergent and dish soap.

But now he was letting him grind forward into his hand and back into his, less sparkly, rougher looking jeans. Pulling his fingers out a bit, Wade was quick to press them back in, nipping gently as he whined, not wanting him to take away his favorite chew toys.

"Yeah? You like those, don't you?" He asks, putting his nose into his neck.

"Mmmhm~" He was happy here, teased and doing a good job. He knew he was because those fingers were soaked and he hadn't even gagged yet.

He loved being touched and muttered too while pressed up against a wall. It was one of his favorite things. He didn't mind however long he wanted to tease him either but only could hope he'd let him return the favor.

Logan could touch him all he wanted, anywhere, for hours and still not let him touch him at all so when he did let him it was like throwing a dog a bone with meat still on it. A treat.

Taking his hand from between his legs, Wade whined in protest but didn't let him pull out the fingers just yet. He wasn't done with them. "W-mh wohlvie"

Running his hand up under his hoodie, Logan thumbed over every dip, scar, nook and cranny that he could possibly feel, kissing the back of his neck until the hand met him in the front. Grabbing him by the throat, he squeezed a bit.

"Drop'em." He breathed behind him.

Almost instantly, Wade moved a hand to push his jeans down to his knees, shimmying a bit for them to get off his thighs before returning his hands to the top of the stall.

He liked his pants snug. He said they felt like 'leg hugs'. Honestly, Logan thought it just made him look more like a wannabe emo, city boy. The kinds that wore studded belts but their panties still showed on their hips.

“Touch me, Peanut! Please?”

Logan was much different with his pants preferences. He liked his inseems deep, his waist high, and the bottom boot cut.

Putting pressure on his sides, he pushed him until his head laid back against him. "Didn't I tell you not to move those hands?! Hm!? Since when are you fucking deaf?!" The gravel in his voice was enough for Wade to moan through the fingers. "HOh mmh gohd-"

He never knew if he wanted him to completely fuck him up or not. It was only natural for him to feel scared. I mean, a big bad wolfie like Logan holding you by the neck, and within a second, he could shove those claws through your face with how deep his fingers were in his mouth? Almost touching the back of his throat if not curved perfectly? But at the same time, it only made him stand at attention.

When he took his hand away, Wade whined. "Nooo.. I'm sorry! I'll behave! Giv'em back, Wolvie. Please?"

"You sure?"

He nods.

"So you don't want me to shove these right up your ass?"

Pausing, he quickly shook his head. "I do want it."

"Want what?" He teases, drawing the fingers over the curve multiple times.

"I want you to shove'em in me!"

"Hmm..that's it?"

"Erm... please??" Glancing at him, he wasn't sure exactly what he wanted, but his back was already arching at the slightest touches.

Chuckling softly, Logan gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "What a good boy. I've trained you a bit too well with manners, haven't I? But that's not what I meant. You want me to fuckya?"

"Heh- Yeah. Obviously.... sooo...now?"

"Settle down. I'm getting there." He mutters, debating if he wanted to let go of his neck or not. Deciding against it, he went ahead and slid in a finger, the front of his own jeans becoming tight from the noise he made.

"I'm just saying. You're taking foreve-Ahoohoh...fuck."

"Mmh?"

"Mmhmm~"

"Mh... You planned this, didn't you?"

"N-ngh?" He whined questionably, biting his tongue to try to stay quiet, focusing on the fingers with that overly large shit eating grin on his face.

"Wade?"

"Hngh.." His eyes went up to the ceiling.

"You did it on purpose. You wanted me to bring you in here and tell you how much of a fucking liar you are, didn't you?"

Pressing back against them, Wade stepped his feet apart, trying to bend over a bit more. As much as he could in tight jeans and in such a small stall. But that's alright. He didn't mind. Only let him press up against him more.

Wade hadn't noticed much, but his hands slipped from the top of the wall again, still above his head, but now he was gripping his own wrist.

"I have no clue what's even going on.." He muttered, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back, grateful that while he pressed back, Logan pushed forward, curling his fingers as he used one to keep him open, The other two slowly pressing in and pulling out with pressure towards the bottom.

Yeah, okay, that checked out.

"Hey.. when you uhm.." Wade starts, as if he just remembered something.

"Yeah?"

"Could you.. oh god this is so embarrassing.. can you be extra rough on my...you know...c-Cancer stuff." He mumbles. "I know, It's disgusting. I'm so gross."

Stepping closer, He made his back bend a little deeper as he turned his head towards him. Kissing him, Logan grunted. "You're not gross.. but yeah. Show me where it hurts, darlin’, I’ll fuck away your pain.”

He blushes, embarrassed. “.. prostate?”

“Heh, sure, I can destroy your prostate for ya."

Wade giggled.

"Sure you wanna do that here, though?"

"I-i rather scream here than with Al yelling at me..." He admits. “She doesn't get it. Sometimes a guy just has to get violently fucked in the ass as part of his pain management plan.” He tells him.

Logan nods, agreeing with him. As stupid as it sounded, by helping his cysts pop, he felt a lot better. Though in Al's defense it did involve a lot screaming.

Sure, he'd help him with his dirty little curse but he wanted to hear those magic words.

“Well.. What do ya say princess?”

“Fuck me like you hate me?” he rubs himself against him further with a high pitched, demanding whine, already impatient.

Logan chuckles at the questioning tone, shaking his head softly.

“Not yet. I'm gonna take my time with you.”

Keeping him close, Logan matched his hand movements with his words, dragging them out if the phrase was elongated, quickly stuffing them back in if he thought he deserved it.

Various whispers of praise fell from his lips.

“Your ass is super tight, you know that?”

Okay maybe some were sweeter than others but come on, This meant much more to wade than just a “You're Beautiful.” though in truth he liked them both equally. He liked any attention even if he didn't believe it… or it wasn't good..

“You're so much hotter than a dead pigeon-”

“PFFT Your fingers are in my rectum and THAT'S what you lead with!? That's like.. the bare minimum! The bar is in HELL!” He laughs.

Embarrassed, he blushes deeply. “I never said I was good at words, damn it. Now shut up and listen.”

“Watch next he's gonna say I'm prettier then the pissy gas station bathroom..”

“No!!... though maybe I should have done this there- at least there was a lock.” He mumbles, knowing he wasn't talking to him rather than you.

Yeah. You.

You freak. Why are you even here? Just wash your hands and leave. God..rude.. Ever hear about privacy? No?? Good. Wade likes to give a good show. Sit down. Just.. watch the pee right there.. unless.. you know …you're into that. But this is New York so.. I hope you're up to date on all your shots!

“Wade!”

“What?” He asks, glancing back at him.

“Are you serious?”

“Huh? What? What did you say?” He blinks.

Logan grunts. “I just- Uugh I just gave this whole spiel about how sexy you are and how I wouldn't choose anyone else over you. How.. How did you miss that!?”

“Look we've talked about this, I don't know what's going on half the time, what do you want from me?”

About to scold him for not hearing a single word of his beautiful 5 full minute long speech, he just groans. “..Just give me all of you and I'll be happy. Okay?”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why me?”

“Oh shut the fuck up! You know I want you, it's not a secret I try to hide, okay!? Were fucking in a bathroom for crying out loud! Literally!”

Wade giggles a bit. “Sorry Wolvie.. Can you say some of the stuff again?”

“You're killing the mood, Mouth!” He growls, becoming a little frustrated seeing as it took a lot for him to put the words together in the first place.

“Oh pleeaasse, Peanut? Pretty please?” He bats those magic eyelashes.

“Fine… Are you listening?” He asks, curling his fingers up, deep within him.

“...You're the one I was meant to find in life. I was never truly happy where I was until you found me. I think you're an idiot for thinking you don't deserve to be loved because... you know you're sexy right? You're gorgeous. You're so damn pretty and you can't see a single bit of it. I mean- genuinely. But I don't even care about any of that and…and- you know what this is stupid..” he starts.

“No, no!! Please! I was almost there-”

“What? Oh- Wade!! What did I tell you about hands!?” Jerking his hand away, he pushes it to his back, growling. “Do you want me to bite it the fuck off!?”

He squeals, a little too excited. “Nooo!! Don't eat me Wolvie- Unless?”

“No, Wade! Bad!”

“Aww….. Anyway, what were you saying before you so rudely stopped me?”

Sighing, he pulls his hip back, wrapping an arm around his chest, holding him with his chin on his shoulder, listening to his breathing lining up with each curl and press of his fingers.

“and.. I love you. I really do. But I LIKE you too, H-heh.. You're funny, you're so smart even though you act like you and puppins share a brain cell.. and she has it most times.”

Wade giggles, which makes Logan smile, gaining enough confidence to keep going. “I love that stupid fucking smile you do when ever you make the most terrible joke in history- and I know- Im 206.”

Another giggle as Wade reached the hand that was on the stall back to wrap around Logan’s neck, Nuzzling him gently.

“I-i love your freaky bright eyes. I mean really, why do they look like that?”

He chuckles, truly listening to every word. Logan didn't speak much but when he asked for Wade's attention, he got it fully. “I really don't know… do you actually like them or..?” The nervousness in his voice made Logan's heart beat hitch, quickening.

“I really do. They're like nothing I've ever seen before… and they change colors. They're white, clear, and milky-”

“Ha! That's what she said-”

“Shut up…” He rolled his eyes but smiled, knowing he walked right into that one.

“I was GOING to say they're like my own personal moons to light my dark days, and when they are yellow they are like suns that shine on my face in the morning.. but…That's another thing. You get me… A lot..”

“Oh, Logan….stop..”

“No, I mean it. Really. They told me you were too immature for me but.. you're perfect. I'm tired of feeling old. I'm tired of feeling like there's no one who will be able to be lazy and lay with me when I need it but play around or be rough when I want too… until you.”

Swallowing, Wade pulled his hand from him, turning to stare at him with an oblivious look of realization.

“.. Holy shit.. You really think that.. a-all of it?”

He nods. “i-.. I wasn't done either..”

“There's more!?”

Blushing, the old fart nodded, semi embarrassed.

“Oh my god, baby you're gonna make me cry….Tell me you're lying..”

He shook his head. “No.. I won't. I refuse.”

Pulling him close, Logan hugs him tight, Wade squeezing him back around the back of his neck, teary eyed and trying not to ugly sob. For a few moments they stayed like this before he kissed him, the same way he planned to in a few months once he found a perfect ring.

“I'll never let you go. I want you to be with me until you get tired of me. And even then you'd have to get a restraining order.”

“Oh Wolvie… I could never get tired of you.”

“And you know how you feel right now? That's how I feel about you… Unfortunately..”

“... I love you, Logan.. you're too good to me.. I hope I'm enough for you.. I know you deserve better. To be happier…”

“As long as you're here with me, I'll have a smile on my face, princess.” He teases, leaning up to kiss him again (For the 50th time) “And if it was up to me I'd keep you just like this all day but-”

“Do it, coward.”

Logan snorts, giggling a bit. “You want fucked or not?”

“Yes!! I take it back, You're not a coward, Please fuck me, Mr. Wilde! Pound me with your huge poetic cock!”

Before he could shout anymore, Logan kissed him, shutting him up as he entered, being sure to stay still for a couple of seconds. The deeper the kiss got, the more he pressed in. This was until Wade pushed himself back, breaking the kiss and moaned.

“Hah~ Fuck, not so much of a peanut anymore, huh?”

To tease him, Logan pulls away just to slam back in. The squeal that came from him through the kiss pleased Logan greatly, doing this a couple more times.

Pulling away, his breath was already a little heavy from such tender intimacy. “You good?”

“Best I've ever been, Big boy!” He tells him, cheek against the wall, but something about his smell said he was lying.

“Mmh… spit on these.” He muttered, putting his fingers up to his mouth for Wade to spit, wiggling around back there. Gripping his hips to hold them still, he slipped the fingers in, spreading the slick around before pressing back in.

Wade lets a deep groan fall out of his mouth seeing as his jaw hasn't shut practically since they've been in here, drooly and excited. It wasn't often that Loagie wanted to fuck him in a public space. They already got caught in central park one night, and now were banned from the Subway down the street- the actual sandwich subway, not the public transportation system.

Picking up the pace, He tries to keep him quiet, shoving his fingers in his mouth, Telling him to shut up, shushing him between thrusts, covering his mouth and even (of course) kissing him.

Nothing seemed to work though, especially when Wade spread his legs, letting him have further access, his body just begging to be held down and used.

And who was Logan to deny that?

“Lo- Ooh shit- Oh shit- Oh fuck shit damn!” He calls through breathy moans and tries to keep his knees from buckling by shifting his weight, though Logan doesn't want any of that. Who does he think he is? Trying to get away now? Not going to happen.

Biting the side of his neck, he made an animalistic noise that made Wade's knees shake, the pain from both the teeth seeping blood out of his neck, and his ass being obliterated.

He can't help but smile through the skin in his teeth, letting out a huff of a chuckle. Really? Fuck shit damn?

“Ooh- Ow- Mmh fuck! Ow- Shit! Ohh mmMy God Loagie it hurts so good!” He whimpers, reaching up to hold the top of the stall, becoming still and instantly quiet.

This was always the part where Logan got nervous. Scared that he had actually hurt him somehow and he just didn't want to say anything in fear he'd be mad at him.

“yuh gud?” He asks through the mouthful.

Silence. His eyes were closed tight and he was tensing slightly, as if trying to hold still in this exact position.

Letting go of him, Logan slowed. Immediately Wade began to plead with him, begging him not to stop, pushing himself against him in hopes he'd get the gist.

“Are you-”

“Harder.” He says and immediately Logan understands, giving a nod. Adjusting himself, he holds him in place, thrusting up a few dozen times. Harder.

The squeak that came from Wade and watching him grit his teeth. It said all he needed to know. Kissing his shoulder blade, he listened to each quiet whine, felt each tense in his legs, and could smell the discomfort.

Logan has come to train himself that he was allowed to keep going, having usually backed off at even the slightest sign of pain but he understood that what he was doing was best for him. He’s seen the clots, boils and welts that happened so he could only imagine what this felt like on the inside. Just thinking about it made him want to stop. To tell him no more.

But this was Wade's request. And probably why he's felt so down here recently, it was hard to feel handsome or pretty when your insides hurt like this.

“Breathe.” He reminded him, feeling Wade hitch his breath and still, tensing his legs up as he let his head hang. This one hurt. He knew it did just by how he felt.

But he didn't.

“Wade?..Breathe for me.” He whispers, trying his best to get this over with as fast as he could. He knew how painful it was just from him shutting down, no longer moaning or even saying ‘ow’. Just silence.

The sound of slapping and the jangly hinges of the stall were all that was at the moment until He let out a large gasp, sounding more of a “Hah-” of relief.

Before you could blink, Logan stopped, pulling away as he held him up, beginning to kiss all over the back of his neck. “There's my good boy. Breathe. You're okay. I got you. Bit a blood never killed anybody.” He reassured him, noticing that more than usual was dripping down his leg, his dick covered in the hot infectious red slick.

Nuzzling his cheek, Wade had tears in his eyes, giggling a bit embarrassed but happy with the bit of praise and care he was receiving. “Sttoopp..” he whined. “You're so embarrassing..”

“Oh sure like I'm the one about to be screaming here in a minute-”

“What?”

He flips him around, shoving his back to the wall again as he kisses him, nipping at him and tugging at his lip.

Blushing, Wade squealed. “Jeez Wolvie! What, you got a blood kink or something? You freak!”

“I got a ‘helping you' kink, Asshole. There's a difference.” He grunts in between bites at his neck, sending his head back to give him a big moan.

The best part about busting a prostate cyst is that it meant what once was hiding it, was now gone. Meaning Logan could hit it as many times as he wanted.

Giggling, Wade yelped when picked up, hands placed on the back of the stall, his legs immediately retreating to around his waist. “What are you doing?!”

“Stay.” He growls, shifting his hands to get a better hold of him. “You know what I want.”

And with this, it started. The first couple of times, Wade gasped through, whimpering from the residing pain only to grin, letting his head lean back as tried to focus on holding the stall and not running his hands through those thick locks of his. “H-oH Fuck!”

As the moans flowed through each messy smooch, Giggles, praises, dirty talk, the whole nine yards in this tiny space of theirs, Logan didn't even stop when he heard someone walking in. Since the door had flown open a long time ago, He only glared at the passer byer who stopped for a second to look, Only to jump back and leave when full on snarled at. (Because if not you'd probably die today)

“What the fuck are you looking at!?”

In fact he only fucked him better, rolling his hips up to him, pulling Wade's hips into him enough to make him give a high pitched scream of joy and pleasure. “AAAH!! Logan!! Oh fuck- Logan! Logan, please- Please fuck me- No kiss me! Kiss- mMPhm mh, Mh, MHMmh!” Even though the kisses he'd let everyone in this station know who was fucking him.

Logan.

“Don't be ashamed if you wanna scream my name, sweetheart~” he purrs into his neck, trying to keep his breaths stable and resist the urge to put more holes into him.

“Ah!! H-hah! Logan! There! Yes! Ohh- Yes! yesyesyesyes-” He grunts under his breath, now letting out whiny moans. “Oh Fuck!! Yes! Right there! Cable could never hit there-” he blurted out through his screaming whimpers of pleasure, clawing at the side of the bathroom stall as if Logan was trying to drag him down to hell.

For a split second he stopped, pulling his waist back, hand on his stomach as he positioned him in a certain way again.

Wade whines, assuming Logan quit, starting to complain in a high pitched voice of sexual frustration. “Nooo! That's not fair you know I can't contr-” Only to gasp loudly, like a thick new breath of air would help him any.

He failed.

Sinking his teeth in, Logan began to hit this spot on purpose, Over and over and over. He knew Wade didn't mean it. He said all sorts of random thoughts of his brain decided to say without his consent, but it still made him jealous enough to decide that he didn't give a fuck if anyone heard him anymore, he wanted to ease his brain into that numb state of babbling to him his own name.

How could he ever forget such a thing when someone so hot as Wade was screaming it?

“EEHHh!! Please! Please- Logan. Oh god oh god oh god- Fuck! Logan-” The screams grew quiet, evolving Into more of a pleading whimper, whispering under the harshness of the breath he was trying so desperately to keep and yet couldn't keep anything inside at the moment.

“Logan.. Logan please.. Logan fuck- Logan” he whispers, breathy moans into his face, letting his hands finally drop, coming to hold around his neck, scratching his back instead.

“Oh Logan please- please.. yes.. yes fuck- Logan, hold me- please..”

Logan could have come right then and there from the babbling. It was his favorite part. The perfect balance of his mind drifting into a deep subspace, being relieved from pain, and filled with intimacy.

He knew these moans were just for him, and only him. Quiet enough just so he could hear the sweet sympathy that his loving boy could make for him.

“Logan- Logan.. L-Logan! F-fuck- Logan please.”

He was close. He knew he was. He could feel it from how tightly the coil in his stomach was causing him to stiffen, he could already smell the precum, feel his toes curling in his converse, the hot blood still dripping from him onto his legs.

“Logan.. logan- fuck- Logan.. Logan!” He cried, breaths unevenly hitching as tears came to his eyes. It could be a lot. The pain, the intensity, the numbness in his mind that couldn't quite validate the reason for said pain and intense feeling in his lungs. Subconsciously he was asking for help, to regulate himself and his emotions.

The soft panic of overstimulation that was settling in made Logan slow a moment, taking his time to push himself into the perfect places. Kissing him gently yet hungry, letting out small purrs of appreciation to restart the brain, keep him leveled.

“Hi, bub.” He whispers, kissing away his tears knowing by now just how mindbroke he truly was. And he loved it. God he was so sexy like this. Calling his name, begging him to save him, worried that he'll drop. Both physically and metaphorically. “Shhh. You're alright. I won't drop ya, I got you… ready?”

Wade nods, practically salivating at the offer, arms tight around his neck and much happier despite knowing he would be a bit sore on the ride home.

Taking another bite out of him, He was shoved against the wall in a way that made him gasp and moan deeply, the other kind of sounds Logan adored. Sure, he liked the high pitched ones too but something about that deep voice of his made him go a bit insane, trusting into him like a buck in a rut FINALLY given what was his.

With every balls deep slap of skin, Wade groaned lowly. Shifting his hand position from on his back to placing one hand on his shoulder, the other on his head, petting him as he gripped A fistful of curls, pulling him closer. Pressing his teeth deeper into his skin as he decided to grunt and growl with each thrust, nails digging into Wade’s hips as if it were his birthright to breed him in a dirty subway bathroom.

“Ah fuck- gimmekitsgimmekits PLEASE gimmekits” he mumbles, gritting his teeth, closing his eyes as he held him, legs unwrapping to let him use him how he pleased, trusting him fully not to drop him.

The orgasm hit stronger than a shot of whiskey straight from the bottle. Logan kept their hips together, keeping him pinned, his ass almost touching the wall as he bucked a few more times, wanting as deep as possible. It was only natural for him to pump him full. Not like Wade minded either, having already made a mess on the hoodie and now was limp against the wall.

With his head back, he breathed heavily, beginning to chuckle, moaning at a final buck. Bringing his hands to his hair, Wade giggled, pulling his chin up for a sloppy kiss.

Moving to hold his cheeks in his hands, he smirked. “Who's a good boy?”

Logan scoffed, grumbling a bit, blushing.

“... me”

“That's right. My big strong boy~ Fucks me so good!” he coes, making Logan chuckle, shaking his head. “You're a freak..”

“I'm not the one that dragged me in here.”

“.. touché….. Alright. I guess we better get going before the cops come or something.”

“Why would the cops come?”

“Oh I don't know. Public indecency, you screaming your lungs out bloody murder, it looks like a crime scene in here, Wade.” he mutters, holding his thighs as he pulls out with a groan.

Almost immediately their foreheads came together to watch as the cum spilled out onto his jeans and continued to drop down his legs.

“Aw my pants..”

“Wouldn't be the first time.”

“Certainly not the last.” He commented, now glancing away. “Well uhm.. thanks for.. you know.. turning my guts into strawberry jam..”

He pulls his chin to face him, kissing him again with that shit eating grin that really made wish he could get pregnant just so his children could have the same stupid smirk.

“Darlin’ I'd do it even if you didn't ask me to.”

About 10 minutes later between Logan cleaning up his mess by licking up his thigh (only for more to just replace it seconds later), Helping a jelly legged Wade get dressed again, and slobbering all over him as he kissed him to death- Logan now stood with Wade on his hip, like holding an oversized sleepy toddler in his one arm, their shopping in the other.

Wade's tired snores into his neck was music to his ears as he snuggled up to him, used to the screeches of the train's brakes and nonsense being blared over the speakers.

At time's he would kiss his head, not minding the fact that they both now had Cum stained onto their fronts and just how soaked Wade's bottom was. Either way- He was beautiful like this. Happy, relieved of his pain, and filled to the brim with such love, mixed bodily fluids and- Logan had a feeling he was forgetting something.

He forgot their lunch bag...

“...well shit.”

Hello, if you made it this far, congratulations! ⭐️ you get a gold star. Thank you so much for reading ❤️ I hope you enjoyed it.

[yanaleese]

Extract #1 - Training Practice

"Karma, your next opponent is here!"

"Really?" Karma replied, monotonous, detached - cold. Unlike me, who wore cold, pale flesh, Karma was warm-bloodied, healthy, and robust. Although I had never seen Karma with such a lustful look (since I lusted after Kallisto instead), he was indeed a charmer; but not a playboy for girls, neither a boytoy.

Rather, he was the perfect heir to the Sangres. In this century, they were an active family that supported their country, the goods, and encourage values of kindness and community.

But not all is beautiful under the sun.

Many of the pure bloods remarked on how his family paved the path for our extermination.

Starting with our children.

It was an impressive plan, my father said. They took our merits, our achievements and swallowed it into their rabbit hole. Our pride, our royal lineage, and most importantly - our hope, the people's hope.

And now, I am invited by these same traitors of the vampiric race, to see the next heir in line take the throne.

What a cruel joke.

"Ari. Do me a favor and hold my stuff, yea?"

Taking a deep breath, I nodded. Kallisto normally isn't this excited.

I suppose it's because he's facing his brother, Karma. But luckily, it's a simple training practice.

I'm sure it won't be anything too hard.

"Karma, I've been practicin' like crazy. Yuh wanna try me?" His face flushed with joy, his cheeks reddening at the sight of his brother. No matter what occasion, Kallisto's toothy grin stood out like a sore thumb. Nevermind his abnormally deep scars, or the brand that decorated the back of his neck. To this family, it was a testament of bravery, and resilience - or whatever bullshit excuse they have for abuse.

"You know what happened last time."

"Still! The more I get beat up, the more I learn. Ain't it?"

"...I disagree." Karma's voice was deeply pensive, calculated. "You learn with your fists, not your head."

"Yah callin' me dumb or wha?" Kallisto squealed; my heart softened.

"No. I'm saying you have the wrong values."

"Awww...."

"Now hurry up and get into position, Kalli."

"Kallisto." The younger brother pronounced firmly, his grin dampening into a frown.

He ignored him, turning his head to me. "Aristotle, give us the count."

"Understood." Polite language was best for Karma, since his title was superior to mine. "Ready?"

"Yuh-ha! Start already, whore!" Kallisto chimed.

I chuckled, counting down. "3...2...1..."

"Go!"

Immediately, Karma punched Kallisto straight in the nose - without even a hint of hesitation. Even without seeing his eyes, I knew he had the intent to kill, to bring despair to others. It was almost as if he was a pure-blood himself.

In response, Kallisto held Karma's foot, sinking his fingernails into his legs. Once again, he was playing dirty. Karma groaned, now aiming for his forehead. The younger brother retracted just in time, backing away, before aiming for a punch to his crotch.

"Oh Dracula~" I smirked, his aim perfect. "Hit 'em where it hurts, Kallisto!"

Yet, Karma didn't even react. What the fuck is he even made oof?!?

"Shut up! I'm tryin' to concatrate!"

"You mean concentrate?"

"Same thin'!" He growled, tearing and slashing through Karma's skin, going for the throat. "Die, die, die!!!"

Karma gurgled up blood, showing off his pearly teeth. "Kal...Kalli..."

"Shit Karma! What the hell is with that-"

Before he could even could finish his sentence, Karma smothered Kallisto's eyes with his own blood, pulling him straight into a headlock.

"Kallisto!" I screamed, jumping out of my seat. "Get the hell out of there before you can!"

"S...Sh....it...!" He screamed, he shouted - clawing and scraping anything to get himself out of Karma's suffocating hold. "you fUcking..."

And within seconds, Kallisto passed out, his rage transforming into a sense of calmness and defeat.

Declaring Karma as the winner. Again.

"Undefeated champion, huh?"

The eldest took his time responding, possibly gulping down a healing potion. "I'm sorry, Aristotle. But I have a reputation to uphold in front of my family."

"That's clearly not what I'm seeing."

"Well, Aristotle, I'm sorry my perspective does not match yours." Karma mentioned, looking left and right for something, or somewhat.

"And I'm sorry that you can't see the truth."

Karma froze, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "...I do."

"Really? How much do you know?"

"I know enough that you want payback. In blood."

Hesitantly, he picked up Kallisto, attending to his wounds. Continuing to look left and right, he once again took his sweet time to respond.

Meanwhile, I could feel my blood - or whatever blood I last drank - boiling.

"...No I don't."

Karma scratched the back of his neck, starting to sweat. "I wish I could say the same thing, but your bloodlust is all over the entire room."

Dammit, did I not mask it properly?

"Well." I bow; I fucking hated bowing to these fucks. "My apologies Young Master-"

"Excuse me, Aristotle..."

"Yes, Young Master?" I plastered a fake smile.

"Promise me...that you'll keep this a secret." His voice grew to a honeyed whisper.

I titled my head, confused.

"Young Master, whatever do you mean-"

"Cleaning up his wounds. I was lucky today, but don't say anything." He muttered under his breath. "Please. I can't afford not a soul in this mansion to hear this."

"But Young Master, is such kindness really worth a secret?"

"In this mansion, unfortunately so." Karma was dead serious. "So please tell the staff that you attended to his wounds."

I bit my lip, drawing blood. "......Yes, Young Master."

Satisfied with my response, he stood tall, clutching my shoulders. Though I was cold to the touch, and was a walking undead - his hands grasped unto me with the tiniest bit of comfort, warmth...

That was raw. Fresh. Unfiltered.

....Something...human.

"Thank you, Aristotle." He pulled away, his bittersweet smile etched into his features. Waving a small good-bye, Karma returned to his stoic composure, leaving me alone with Kallisto.

As I turned to the man in front of me, a twinge of pain and agony rushed through me.

The truth was clear as day.

This place was a hellish, inescapable nightmare that no child can live in. That no vampire or human can live in.

This was the definition of hell itself.

~ Aristotle Carpathia, Heir of the Carpathia Family

If you'd like to put this as your profile picture, please contact me through my inbox! Thank you.

[phyrestartr]

Till Death Do Us Part (Miguel x Reader)

Miguel x Husband!Reader W/C: 9.5k

#NSFW, exhibitionist kink, praise kink, hurt/comfort, infidelity, toxic relationships, brief verbal abuse, mending relationships, mentions of medication, mentions of mental illness, difficult/complex feelings and emotions, things work out in the end, nobody dies, the zombies aren't that important, old men just really going through it

Note: I cried a lot writing this lol please also cry and enjoy! (I also tried my best with the Spanish and tried to reference good sources, but I apologize if it sounds whack lol I only know EN and JP o(--( )

-- Till Death Do Us Part --

"(Name), where the fuck are you?" Miguel ran his hand through his hair as he watched the news, as he stared outside at the cascade of chaos. He waited for you to pick up the phone. He'd already called so many times, but you weren't picking up. Why weren't you fucking picking up? 

"Miguel, he's probably fine," Dana cooed as her arms looped around him from behind. "You need to worry about what we're gonna do." 

Miguel shook his head and shoved Dana's arms off of him. "Our daughter–Gabriella–" 

"You mean our daughter?" Her tone was vile. So, so fucking vile.

"Shut up," Miguel barked before ripping the phone from his ear when your voicemail picked up again. He shot you another text, asking where you were before his fidgety fingers scrolled the log up and down, cruelly reminding himself of the messages he'd ignored from you just a few days ago. 

November 18th 7:04am babe come home 7:04am please 12:19pm we can talk about it  12:20pm we'll figure it out 12:46pm gabi misses you 9:34pm call me tomorrow

November 19th 7:35am you still ignoring me? 7:40am gabi wants to call you 7:41am you gonna answer if it's her? 8:05am i'll tell her you're busy with work 9:50pm i miss you

November 21st  9:56pm call me

November 23rd 12:01am i shot someone  12:01am i had to 12:01am but i can't stop thinking about it  12:32am i need you  1:12am please 2:07am miguel

November 30th 7:16am miggs shit's crazy outside 7:17am lock the doors, don't let anyone inside 7:17am maybe stock up on food first idk this might take a while  7:18am but DON'T help anyone who's bit or injured 7:19am they evacuated gabi's school but i don't fucking know where they're going 7:19am i'm gonna find her, i promise 7:20am i love you. stay safe.

December 2nd  3:05am i love you 3:06am i'm sorry

Miguel rubbed his eyes. He sped past his own wall of text starting from that day, December 3rd, and sent another plea, another wish that you'd respond back sooner than a week from now.

"Oh my God, just give it up–" 

"Dana, shut the fuck up, just shut up." 

He called you again. 

And this time, you answered. 

Miguel's heart jumped. "(Name)?" 

"Babe?" You sounded like you were panting, like you were straining against something. "Are–are you okay? Where are you?" A string of coughs punched out of your lungs in rough staccato, pinching Miguel's nerves with every ghastly beat. He was scared. He was so fucking scared. 

"I--I'm," Miguel stammered, still unable to have that conversation, still too much of a coward in the end. "Does it matter?" 

"Just keep the doors locked," you continued. "Keep 'em locked, and…and I dunno if you're in a tower or a house or fucking whatever, but don't leave until things get quiet." You picked yourself up from the ground, Miguel could tell by the scratch of gravel echoing wherever you were. "Don't get bit. Don't help anyone who is bit. Put yourselves first." 

"But, I–you–do you have Gabi?" Panic gripped his throat as jets flew overhead, high above the city. The engines roared a gruesome apology, a sound Ouranos himself must have made when his own children slew him, so filled with godly enmity. 

Then, molten death rained on the city. Miguel stared at roaring explosions dotting the cityscape, watching pillars of flame feed into the world's chaos. His hands trembled when the same carnage screeched through your phone. 

"I'll find her. I-I promise, Miguel, I'll find her and--and I'll–shit."  

There was gunfire. Gunfire encased in wild snarling. It devoured the crack of plastic hitting concrete, the noises you gasped out, the–

Silence.

Miguel hated his mind. He hated how it remembered that one moment so clearly, like it'd happened just a minute before the present. Sometimes, when he felt like torturing himself more, he wondered what your face looked like in those last moments. He wondered where your life flickered out. He wondered when he'd see you stumbling through the streets and have to put a bullet in your head. 

But he'd force good memories to the surface when he found the light growing too dim; that confession and first kiss, starry nights spent lazing on the hood of your jeep, the look on your face when you finally held little Gabriella for the first time–it all chased away the darkness. It all made him feel whole again, it let him see clearly again. But with clarity came the difficulty of accepting what he'd lost.

He found a way to do it. He found a way to talk about you, too. It was hard not to–your old colleagues, other officers of the lost world, were an integral part of the Alchemax colony. Jeff Morales and George Stacy, amongst a few others, had known you, and by proxy they knew Miguel.

"He was a good guy," Jeff had mentioned when the moment felt right. "Bragged about having the best-looking and smartest partner around. Now, I ain't gonna say he was right, but he wasn't wrong." That brought warmth to Miguel's chest, but guilt smothered it too quickly. 

"Never stopped talking about your daughter either." George smiled when he recalled it, but it was something small and morose. "Gabriella, right? Yeah, he said she was a smart cookie. Kind of a brat, apparently, but hey, with that guy as her father? Hah! I'm not surprised." 

Miguel liked having them around. He liked the happy memories they brought to your name.

But on bad days, vulnerable days, Miguel wanted to break their necks and watch them turn so he could kill them again in their undeath; they still had their children, their families. How could they bring up what he'd lost while they still had everything? 

Today was one of those days, too, one where your memory hurt just a little more than usual. Maybe it came with the snow whirling in the blue-drenched outdoors, or the sudden darkness the world lost itself in. But he knew the frostbite decaying his heart came from the eternal proof of your lost existence:

December 2nd  3:05am i love you 3:06am i'm sorry

Why did you apologize? Miguel sighed, and carded a hand through his hair as he paced Alchemax's halls. Enough of that, Miguel. You need to focus. Focus. 

And once he stepped foot in the control room, the routine morning check commenced: doors remained sealed with no record of tampering, security cameras still functioned, the solar panels still collected more than enough light to keep things rolling. Good. Perfect. 

"Hey, hey, how's it lookin'?" Peter asked, a cup of coffee in one hand and his little girl tucked in the other arm. It would've been a wholesome sight, if Peter hadn't ruined it with a too-loud slurp from his mug. Ugh. 

"Fine," Miguel grumbled. "Everything's in the green. Nothing to worry about." He ran a hand over his face with a sigh. "Just have to clear the snow off the solar panels later today." 

"Oooh, snow! It is that time of the year, huh? December already! Who woulda thought. Time goes by pretty quick when you're not worried about getting eaten all the time." Peter looked at his little May and cooed. "Isn't that right, Mayday?" 

Miguel rolled his eyes fondly and shook his head. "If you're that excited about snow, I'll put you on shovelling duty, Parker." 

"Oh, wow, I'm suddenly deaf and can't hear you." Peter shuffled away in his stupid slippers and stupid bathrobe. "Oh, right, right, MJ made bread! Can you believe it? I feel like I haven't had a bread-carb in forever! We really gotta do another supply run or we're eating canned beans all winter long. Y'know what? I'll put it on the 'to-do' list!" 

Miguel threw a glare at Peter over his shoulder. He was annoying, but he wasn't wrong. They did need more food, more supplies, more ways to sustain themselves. Scavenging the dregs of supermarkets and convenience stores wasn't cutting it anymore; there were too many mouths to feed, and shitty, packaged foods wouldn't suffice much longer.

Miguel braced his hands on the centre console after pulling up a satellite map of the surrounding area. The lab they called home laid nestled away from prying eyes of citizens, making it a safer place to start to rebuild the semblance of a normal life. Though, at the same time, it made it more difficult to get in and out of the city in good time. They had to pick their destination on the map, calculate the time it'd take to get there, and then execute the plan with little to no hiccups. It was hard. It was a pain in the ass. But it had to be done.

Miguel took his time scanning through the map, trying to spot any buildings they hadn't already marked off as empty and not worth the trip. These days, they had to get creative, they had to think of places that'd have food where people wouldn't expect, where the average scavenger wouldn't think to look and–

"Shit," Miguel breathed before rushing to move the map. "How could I forget?"

He spotted a small building on the map, one they'd never ventured to, one they never thought to go to. A chain link fence surrounded the perimeter, giving about five metres worth of breathing room around the building. Clusters of huge garden pots dotted the area randomly, along with whatever outdoor trees and shrubs that'd survived all these years on their own.

Miguel covered his mouth as he smiled.

"You might've just saved us, viejo." 

Because you were a country boy. A farmer's son. 

You convinced (begged) him to pull over, to go to the new garden store that'd appeared not too long ago. Miguel, far too smitten with you, couldn't find the heart to say 'no' to the excitement buzzing in your voice. 

The store was filled with beautiful plants, ranging from common houseplants, to tropical rarities that Miguel never knew existed. All sorts of bushy plants, tall single-leafers, and vining beauties lined the displays and bathed in the gentle, constant mist raining down on them. It really felt like a tropical jungle landed in New York. 

You'd sauntered over to the seed section while Miguel wandered through all the store had to offer before finding you again. You had several sachets in your hands and scanned the shelves for anything else that piqued your interest; they were all vegetable seeds, stuff like corn and green beans, tomatoes and onions, but the occasional herb showed itself as well. 

To Miguel, raising vegetables seemed like a cute hobby. But to you, raising crops meant revisiting your childhood. 

"You wanna get some?" Miguel asked. He looped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder as he read all the different seed names on display. 

"Yeah. I mean…maybe. Dunno if a vegetable garden'll go with the house." You laughed softly, a little self-deprecatingly, before you reached to put the packets back. "I just–I don't know." 

"I think it'll work." A smile warmed Miguel's face as pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. "We can make a greenhouse. A big one. In the backyard." He kissed your neck next. "You can show me the farmboy fantasy." 

You laughed, turned in his arms, and kissed him. "Done."

Miguel crept up to the garden centre with Hobie and Gwen in tow. Travelling anywhere from the safe confines of Alchemax was something of a nightmare, but Miguel was used to it–despite being the man who knew how to run the building, he too often volunteered to head out on supply runs himself. He needed the space to think, to feel the darkness they’d found themselves in, and to feel the light of the sun on his skin to remind himself it wasn’t over. Because it was far from over. 

The garden centre was surrounded by chain link fences encircling the entirety of the building, the very same ones Miguel had seen from the satellite’s view. Honestly, he found himself surprised to see just how good the place looked–the windows were mostly intact, the fences hadn’t been torn through, the doors were still sealed, and a row of crippled undead and frozen re-deads dotted the perimeter, but none were inside. It didn’t seem like any had ever been inside, actually.

“That’s…kinda weird, right?” Gwen murmured as she adjusted her toque. “This place feels like…like it never went under, or something.” 

“Damn near stuck in the past, I’d say,” Hobie agreed. He looked to Miguel. “Fishy’s an understatement, yeah? Might be some not-so-dead-yets in there.” 

Miguel took a deep breath as he thought. “It’s a plant store. Not the highest priority for scavengers like us.” He headed forward, grip tight on his hunting knife. “Try not to shoot. Not unless there’s a runner.” 

“Better not be any runners,” Gwen grumbled. “It’s December. Hopefully they’re all freezing to double-death right now.” 

Hobie scoffed a smile. “If not, we just give ‘em an early Christmas present, hey?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure they’d love their brains blown out.” 

“Eh. I would.” 

Miguel rolled his eyes as the youngins bickered softly behind him. There was no point stopping them–trying to dad them out in the wilds of New York just gave Miguel a bigger headache, and too often ended in a louder match of bickering and scolding, which then often resulted in the undead stumbling their way. It was always a mess. Maybe he should stop bringing the dynamic duo with him. 

But you’d known them. You were fond of them, too, always letting them off the hook with a slap on the wrist when they were caught vandalizing buildings or stealing from stores when they were teenagers. You laughed when you told Miguel stories about them, about how Hobie’d call you “officer tall, sunny and handsome” to get on your good side (which worked), and how Gwen would try to bribe you with car-washings and babysitting to get you to not tell her dad what happened. You knew they were good kids, just bored and too smart for their own good. Miguel knew that, too; the two of you were thick as thieves back in the day, total petty-crime masterminds. Maybe Hobie and Gwen were your dark apprentices, in a way. 

Miguel smiled faintly. He missed the days where you both broke into abandoned buildings, haunted houses and everything else inbetween to fool around and fuck. It’d always be filmed, much to Miguel’s embarrassment, but watching the videos back always made him feel…wanted. Appreciated. Like a rare piece of art. 

You’d always cheese it up and make it sound like some sort of bad porno or found-footage film, like you didn't just break into Chuck E. Cheese to fuck in front of the creepy animatronics. Breaking the law got you excited, as ironic as that was for a future cop. Miguel thought you were a freak. Miguel was kind of a freak too, though. 

“Fucking God,” Miguel moaned, somehow louder than the squeak of the table hosting your feverish coupling. His hips bucked and rolled against yours in a desperate attempt to keep up with your brutal, delicious pace, and his thighs dug into your sides with his hands clutching to your shoulders for dear life. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you mumbled into his ear. Miguel’s body gave a sharp, involuntary jolt, kickstarting the sudden crescendo of his well-earned euphoria. He let his voice be heard as he arched off that shitty table and up against your solid frame, his hips still rutting and moving in sync with your own. You groaned too, letting yourself be just as loud in the midst of him tightening around your heavy, thick cock pummeling into him. 

“God, lookit that pretty face,” you growled when you pulled back to see how fucked out he was. “You feel good, huh? ‘M I makin’ you cum hard?” Your hand slapped the side of his ass, and Miguel whimpered sharply. “You’re so good, baby, so fucking good. I’ll make you cum again, yeah? Make you cum while you–while you take everything I got.” 

You were terrible. Horrible. A monster in the sack, and apparently in front of powered-down robots. You did what you promised, and ripped another orgasm from his exhausted, over-stimulated body before reaching your own blissful undoing with a rude grin on your stupid, annoying face. 

It made for good content, though.

They reached the front gate without problem, only to find it locked with hefty chains and thick padlocks. If there were people in there, then breaking through the first line of defence wasn’t their favoured option–they didn’t like other survivors, no, and they didn’t work with them without good reason, but they weren’t in the business of sabotaging them, either. 

“Hobie,” Miguel beckoned, muffling the chains’ clanking while holding up one of the locks. 

The young man smirked and flicked his old lock picking set from his pocket. “Don’t mind if I do, coz.” 

He unlocked everything in record time. Miguel thought of you for a moment, and wondered if you’d taught the young man a few nefarious tricks since you, too, were an expert sneak. But Miguel pushed the thought aside as they all carefully, slowly, painstakingly unwrapped the linked metal from the fence, and pushed it open with just as much care to keep the noise to a minimum. It’d be a shame to ring the dinner bell in such an untouched place. 

They relocked one of the padlocks for peace of mind before wandering towards the front entrance. The doors’ windows were boarded neatly and meticulously, Miguel noticed first. He crouched down and noted something blocking the small gap between the ground and the door, but the faintest reach of light still reached through the few cracks that remained. 

“Lights’re on. Front’s boarded,” he sighed before backing up. “Might be a different way inside. Looks like there might be people in–” 

“Miguel!” Gwen whispered. He looked her way, and saw her point to a decrepit shed nestled up against the side of the building, right underneath a large window. Shoved against it laid a single, heavy pot flipped on its end, serving as a sort of stool to get up on. But the lack of snow on the newfound path gave Miguel pause.

“I’ll check it out,” Gwen said before nimbly scampering up the side of the shed. 

Miguel frowned. “Gwen–”

“Relax, I’m just gonna look.” But Miguel did not relax, especially not when she rose on her tiptoes on that shitty, rickety shed roof and peered through the window before her eyes grew wide with a soft woah. 

“Whatcha got, Gwendy?” Hobie asked, approaching the shed himself. 

“You two–” Miguel warned. He looked around cautiously, his body aching with primal instinct–they weren’t alone. There had to be someone else here. Gwen and Hobie had to realize that. They were smarter than this. They wouldn’t do anything stupid. They wouldn’t be hypnotized by whatever was in there and throw caution to the wind to get it. Right? Right. 

…Right?

Excited, Gwen smiled and glanced at the two before looking back at whatever she saw. “There’re–there’s…trees? And bushes with veggies and–and wow, you were right, Miguel.” 

“Well, I say we hop in there and snag a few to bring back, yeah?” Hobie suggested. “Reckon they grew on their own?”

“No,” Miguel scolded. “They didn’t. Come down, right now. We need more people for this.” 

“I’m juuust gonna...” Gwen reached for the window, and Miguel’s anxiety peaked.

“Gwen.” 

“Just a little–” The window groaned as it popped open. 

They froze. They died as statues for a single, long moment, rejecting the need to breathe, letting their eyes freeze solid in winter’s mercy while their ears pricked, searching like the alert deer suspecting death stalking nearby after a misstep on a brittle branch. 

One minute passed. 

Then two minutes. 

Three minutes.

But the birds kept chirping, the world kept spinning, and Ares didn’t come to collect their battle-worn souls.

Gwen looked at her group with a nervous smile, a guilty thing that said, “oops?” 

Miguel was furious. But now was not the time to argue or yell. He could let her father handle that back at Alchemax.

But someone grabbed her, and yanked her inside.

Hobie didn’t hesitate. He jumped up to where Gwen once stood and took the plunge after her, scrambling up into the window, but that same someone shoved him, sending him plummeting down to the frigid concrete. Miguel rushed to his side when he hit the pavement with a choked-back groan. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Miguel rolled him on his back. “Hobie, you fucking idiot.” Miguel’s panic ebbed just the slightest bit when he saw the punk blinking away stars instead of losing consciousness. 

Click. 

Electricity burst through him. Miguel ripped his revolver free of its holster and returned aim up at the shadow in the window. The tired winter sun illuminated a barrel of black metal, and the small, tawny hand holding it steady. A child. A kid. He was pointing a gun at a kid.

“We don’t want any problems, kid,” Miguel called up. He tried to relax, but he couldn’t; children who grew up in this world were ruthless. They were cruel, unrelenting, and unapologetic towards  their targets. He couldn’t blame them. It was all they’d known, all they’d been taught. But they were only as cruel as their teachers made them. Some of them still held on to shreds of humanity. 

And judging by that unwavering hand, Miguel feared their adversary was at least a confident shot if not a full-blooded monster.

“Yeah, c’mon,” Hobie groaned. “We just–we just want some seeds ‘n shit, ‘at’s all.” 

The small hand faltered a bit. Seems she still possessed sympathy. But a voice, deep and thread-bare, called to her. She looked over her shoulder for a second, before pulling the window closed and locking the latch behind her. 

Panic lanced through Miguel as anger possessed Hobie. “I’m gonna snap that kid in half–” but the creaky hinges of the front door opening cut him off. Miguel aimed toward it, and Hobie did the same once he got himself together, but then–then Gwen peeked out. 

“Guys!” Her hand fluttered and ushered them to come. “You’re not gonna believe this! It’s–” 

“Daddy?” A young, gentle voice asked, and Miguel’s gaze snapped to her. To her. To the little girl peeking out from around Gwen. To his baby, to his tiny world, long lost but never forgotten. To–

“Gabriella,” Miguel breathed. 

“Ho-ly shit,” Hobie commented.

Gabi’s eyes flooded with emotion. She sprinted to him, nearly slipping and tripping in the snow before jumping into his arms and holding on tight. She was so much older now, so much bigger; her tiny face used to bury into his stomach, but now she had her head tucked up against his chest, staining his jacket with heavy tears. 

“It’s okay, mija, it’s okay. I’m here, Daddy’s got you.” Miguel kissed the top of her head. He fought back tears of his own, but did so so pitifully with broken, bewildered laughs and shaking breaths. He pulled back and looked down at her face, her beautiful, beautiful face, and carefully wiped away the wet trails freezing on her cheeks. “I–you–L-Look at you. How’d you get so big?” 

Gabi smiled and sniffled as she wiped her eyes. “I-I, um, finally ate my veggies.” She took a breath to try and still the quiver in her lungs between thoughts. “Y-You have so much grey in your hair now!”

A few beats of warm laughter left Miguel. “Yeah, no thanks to you. Spent all this time worrying about you, kid.” His hand, so used to killing and defending, trembled as he brushed flyaways out of her face. "Listen, I–I'm gonna take you somewhere safe, okay? You won't be alone anymore." 

Gabriella blinked. Her small hands clutched his jacket. "What? But–"

"She's not alone." 

Miguel almost didn’t look. He didn’t really believe what he just heard. But when he risked it, when he managed to wrench his gaze away from his daughter and back to the heavenly light of the front entrance, he saw you. The man who'd been haunting him for years. The man who'd been keeping him warm at night. You, his lover. You, his husband. 

(You, the man he betrayed.)

"She hasn't been alone," you said, the words punctuated by hazy clouds of warmth–proof you were alive, that you weren't an illusion, not this time. "I promise." 

You looked so, so tired.

But Gwen was grinning, and even Hobie smiled with a lack of irony as he walked to you and gave you a hug. 

"My man! Officer tall, sunny and handsome in the flesh!" He clapped his hand hard against your back but you hardly wavered. You offered a smile, and hugged him back, short and sweet. 

"Hey, Hobie. Behaving?" 

"Eh. Sometimes." 

"Good enough for me." You let him go and scanned over all the survivors, your eyes not lingering on anyone for too long. "Head inside. It's warm, there's food. We'll talk. Gabs?" 

"Okay!" She hurried to corral everyone inside. "In, in, in, we gotta lock up for the night." Her gaze turned to Miguel as he hesitated, still watching you with glazed eyes. "Daddy, are you–?" 

"I'll be there in a second, mija." And, thankfully, his baby girl read the room better than he could have at that age, and let you two be. 

You looked over your shoulder, so like a predator making sure his cubs were inside and safe before prowling through the night. A man enchanted, Miguel followed you, watching you re-lock the gates they'd slipped through, and lagging behind while you checked the perimeter with thorough hands. Miguel would give anything to have those hands on him right now. 

He didn’t know where to start. "(Name), I–" 

"You said you could take her somewhere safe, right?" You asked before you turned that timid, unsure gaze back to him. "You meant that?" 

The words took too long to register. "I–yeah, I meant it. I mean it." Miguel forged courage out of trepidation and used it to fuel his journey to you. "We have a colony. The old Alchemax building, you remember?" 

"The one that was supposed to get torn down?" You wondered. 

Miguel nodded. "Yeah, that one." 

You kept walking. "Didn't we fuck in your office there?" 

A smile threatened Miguel as he followed like a lost puppy. "We did." 

"Ah. Always liked that building. Liked that desk, too." You shrugged. "Comfy, all things considered." 

Miguel hooked his finger into your belt loop and pulled you closer to him. "Then you'll be happy to hear it hasn't changed." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

You almost laughed, Miguel heard it. But you pulled away from him, and wordlessly finished up the perimeter sweep. 

"You should stay the night," you mumbled on the way back. "Pretty sure it's gonna snow." 

"Might make it harder to get back tomorrow," Miguel said, following you inside and watching you bar the door again. "We came here by foot." 

"No truck?" 

"None." 

"I'll take you back, then. I got a truck." 

"You make it sound like you're not coming." Anxiety gripped Miguel. "I'm not losing you again." He held onto your arm tightly.

You looked troubled, glancing between the hand on your arm and Miguel's eyes. "Did Dana die?" You asked. 

Sickness coiled in Miguel's stomach. "What?" But his tone was too deep, too dark. 

You shook your head. "No, I–I'm sorry I don't know why I said that, I'm just–" 

"We both know why you said that," Miguel said through clenched teeth. 

The way you looked at him, eyes full of bristling hatred for the woman who'd stolen away everything from you, set alight an ancient sort of fear in Miguel’s core. It was so like that night, the one where you'd found out. 

Gabi was still at daycare. You were at work. Miguel was supposed to be at work, too. It could have been the perfect crime, one full of sinful lust and infinite rapture. 

But you came home early. 

You didn't even say a word when you walked into the bedroom and found him tangled in the sheets with Dana, with the woman he'd convinced you to think was a surrogate, not someone he was fooling around with and just so happened to knock up. You had that same stare, rotting with hatred, infested with betrayal, all for the woman underneath your husband. Miguel loathed that look, but he found some sick joy in hurting you, too. Because he hated you, for some reason. 

 Dana laughed when you walked out, some smart comment about how pathetic you were dancing off her plush, scarlet-stained lips. Miguel scoffed a laugh, too. You really were a coward, weren't you? 

(But you weren't.)

Miguel finished with Dana, and she left. He heard her say something to you, something light and playful and damn hurtful, but Miguel didn't say anything. Nor did you. 

He found you in the living room after he'd pulled some clothes on like it mattered. He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms, staring hard at your profile while you graced the ground with an empty gaze. Your hands clasped and unclasped slowly. Your head nodded shallowly. 

"You're really not gonna say anything?" Miguel goaded. 

"What am I supposed to say?" You offered. 

Something. Anything. 

Miguel laughed, mocking, and sat down across from you, on a mirrored couch, across the glass coffee table you'd picked out together. 

"How long?" You managed. 

Miguel hummed in thought. "How old's Gabi?" 

That got a reaction out of you, something Miguel craved so deeply; your eyelids fluttered in disbelief, and your lips parted to suck in a sharp breath. You looked hurt. You looked like you were feeling something.

"The prenup says you keep what's yours, I keep what's mine, yeah?" 

Miguel's smile faded. "What?"

"Gifts fall into that category. I’m keeping the Jeep." 

"Wait–" 

"I'll find a lawyer in the morning." You got up, and Miguel snapped. 

"You're not even going to fucking ask why?" He yelled, pursuing you into the bedroom. "You don't wanna know why I'm fucking someone else? What the fuck is wrong with you?" 

You ignored him. Miguel's temper flared. 

"Fine! Fine, fuck it, I'll tell you. You don't excite me anymore. You don't try, you don't wanna fuck me, you don't wanna do anything anymore–" 

"Miguel–" 

"You're not the same man I married. What happened to you? When'd you get so–so pathetic and weak?" He took a pause to breathe. Or maybe gasp, more like, as the stabs of panic started to overtake him. "I hate you. You can't leave me." 

He braced on the door, trying to get his bearings on his own, but you were quick to his side. With a strength Miguel loved and adored, you eased him down and fell in slow-motion with his shaky frame secured in your arms. 

“It’s okay, Miggs. You’re okay.” Your fingers combed through his hair slowly. You held him tight,  and convinced him to breathe with you. In and out. In and out. In and out. He breathed to the rhythm of your heart, as it turned out. Slow and steady. Hurt and bleeding. 

“We’ll figure this out, I promise.” 

And he believed you. 

That’s why he took off the ring, and left first thing in the morning. 

Hobie and Gwen passed out after eating their fill of stew. Miguel was beyond annoyed, but couldn't find it in himself to wake them up and leave, not when you were undecided about going with them, but very much wanting him to take Gabi. 

Honestly, he didn't think you'd still be hurting after all this time. Dana was something of the past, a succubus that followed the steps of opportunity and wealth wherever it may go. That's why she wasn't with the group anymore. That's why she left him when he needed her most, and jumped in a truck with strangers while he bled out, alone, in the solitude of an abandoned pet store. 

Chills raked his spine, breaking off chunks of bone when he thought about it. He'd never been so fucking scared in his life. He wished he could have called you to come save him. He wanted you to be the one to walk in there and find him, crying and dying, because you would have stuck by his side through all of those moments; if he hadn't let his emotions get the best of him, if he hadn't made so many stupid decisions, he would've been with you. If he died that day, it would have been in your arms. 

"Hey," you murmured with a gentle touch to his shoulder. Miguel jumped, and your eyes softened. "You okay?" 

Miguel swallowed thickly as he nodded. He looked around, grounding his mind through the touch of your hand, the duo snoring and slumped against bags of soil, and the gentle flickering of the propane campfire keeping the space warm. You taking a seat beside him helped, too. 

Copper eyes took a moment to pace around the old garden centre; true to the outside, it was more or less untouched on the inside, just more cluttered with haphazard barricades and half-done projects. Miguel watched his ghost walk through the isles, once filled with tropical plants, but now replaced with beautiful, healthy trees raised by your hand. It was no wonder Gabi grew up so strong. 

Speaking of--"Where's Gabi?" 

"She's in the next room. Watering some seedlings." You smiled for a fraction of a second. "Putting her green thumb to the test. Tryna show her old man up, I guess." 

Miguel smiled though his eyes stung. "Sounds like an O'hara." 

"Yeah, I thought so, too." 

You shared a few broken beats of laughter before silence fell, just like the snow beyond the door. Then, shyly, like you'd never done it before, your arm reached around his waist. Miguel didn't hesitate to lean his weight into you, though, and that arm didn't wait to pull him in closer right after. 

"So. You still hate me?" Miguel dared to ask before the dancing cinders.

Your hand smoothed up and down his side thoughtfully, soothingly. Miguel melted against you more with a sweet, content sigh. 

"I never hated you," you whispered in return. "Never." 

Miguel made a little sound, something caught between surprise and relief, while your words sunk deep into his thoughts. You didn’t hate him. You didn’t hate him. 

“Then come back with us.” 

“Miguel–”

“There’s no reason to stay here,” Miguel bit out, frustration egging him on. “We have shelter, we have water, showers, rooms, beds–we have everything.” 

“What about food?” You asked quietly.

But Miguel didn’t have an answer; food was the reason they were coming out here, to find more ways to create sustainable living, to try and make life work again. He couldn’t help but look at the trees and bushes bursting with colourful fruits and vegetables, showing off years of dedication and hard work through the literal fruits of your labour. Miguel didn’t know how hard it was to get there. He didn’t think he wanted to know. 

“...It’s a work in progress,” he grumbled instead of admitting the truth. “But we could use your help.”

Your warm fingers dipped under layers of clothes to find the searing skin of your past lover. To Miguel, it almost ached. He hadn't been touched in so long. He hadn't felt your hands on his bare skin for even longer. It intoxicated him, filled his mind and blood with wants and needs–things only you could fulfil for him. 

"I won't leave you hangin', promise that. I just–I need to figure out how this is all gonna work." You looked around the room, taking stock. "Lots of gear we'll need, lots of shit to move. I'll send you back with whatever's already picked. Not worried about the cold with those. The trees are another story, don't want 'em to go dormant while–" 

Miguel kissed you. Sloppily, and wantonly, but with genuinity. Your hands scrambled to hold onto his massive frame when he leaned into you and almost knocked you off the discounted garden bench. This time, you were the one who made a cute, surprised noise. 

And you were the one who kissed him the second time, but it was smaller and shier coming from you, not so eager to consume like Miguel. Your calloused hand held the side of his neck, and your thumb ran along his jawline thoughtfully when you parted, noses bumping and nudging together in a weak nuzzle. 

"I guess you don't hate me anymore?" Your whisper ached Miguel's heart. 

"I never did," he confessed. 

"Then why did you say it?" 

"I don't know." He traced the curve of your lips with tired, weighted eyes. Your cupid's bow had a nice shape to it, so soft and pillowy, meant just for him. "But I didn't mean it." 

"I need a better answer than that." You swallowed down what Miguel could only guess to be a tincture of fear and sorrow, or maybe rage and betrayal. "I've lived with–with that for a long, long time." Your eyes glistened with unspent grief, suddenly. "I need more than 'I don't know.'" 

Miguel's heart lurched. He hadn't bore witness to the consequences of his selfishness before, not with you, not during his affair with Dana. He'd only seen you grow distant across that coffee table far before that god-awful night. And back then, he wanted a reaction. He wanted something like this out of you, but now, he couldn't fathom why.

"Mi amor, I–it's hard to put into words, and I was a stupid kid, and–hey, hey, don't--don't cry." He wiped away the bravest tear to fall first before you turned away, back to the flickering blaze, and rubbed your face roughly. 

"Here's my guess," you muttered. "You wanted to fuck, and I couldn’t–I just–it was hard for me. Or maybe it wasn’t hard, maybe that’s a better way to put it.” You rubbed your face, and held your head in your hands. "The, ah, the medication, the anti-depressants or whatever, they were fucking me up. I didn’t wanna fuck you. I didn’t wanna do anything. Then I was in training to join the force. Wasn't home, and when I was, I was too tired to take care of you and Gabi, so I focused on her. And that made you go back to Dana. Again." 

Bile scorched the back of Miguel’s throat. "You knew." A realisation, not a question. "You knew we–that she and I–" 

"Yeah, that she wasn't a surrogate.” You picked your head up from your hands and stared at the fire, unseeing. “Because she was dating Gabe at the time, and you were with me." You sighed and let a deep, venomous grief finally escape from the space between your lungs, from the spot where that thing had festered like a disease for too many years. 

"I could let it go the first time, turn a blind eye because she gave me–gave us–our daughter, but–the second time? With all the shit you two said?" You shook your head. "I just--I couldn't–I wish you'd just told me what was wrong. I wish I'd told you what was going on with me, too, 'cause I know all the shit that happened is my fault, too.”

"Dad?” Gabi's small, hollow voice rang. The both of you turned to her, but you were the one who got up. 

“Baby,” You said with a hushed tone, somehow so comforting but so afraid. “Hey, you done with the watering?” 

“Uh, yeah, but…um, is everything okay?” Her gaze flicked between you and Miguel. He could almost hear her little mind firing on all cylinders as she tried to parse what they were talking about. “You look sad.”

You crouched before her and took her hands in yours. “We’re talking through some things, honey, it’s alright. We’re figuring things out.”

A light of worried realization illuminated Gabriella’s gaze. Miguel fidgeted and futzed with his clothes as he looked away, unsure of how to deal with her accusatory revelation. How much did she know? Did you tell her anything? No, no, you wouldn’t do that, you wouldn’t dirty her memory of her father like that. You were a good man. You were a better man than Miguel. 

“Oh,” she whispered. 

You nodded and brushed some hair free from her freckled face. "We’ll be alright, baby. You just get some sleep, alright? Tomorrow's gonna be a busy day. Lots of loading up to do." 

Gabi whispered the softest okay before giving you a hug. She paused for a moment, before running to Miguel and throwing her arms around him for a few precious seconds before running off to the loft to sleep. 

You sighed, then, and Miguel did too.

You turned to him. “Look, you–I don’t know why I’m starting shit right after you…you wander back into my life,” you murmured, going back to Miguel and straddling the bench before taking his hand and squeezing. “I’m sorry. And I love you. You know that, right?”

That pang came back in Miguel’s chest, but this time, it was warmer.

December 2nd  3:05am i love you 3:06am i'm sorry

Miguel squeezed your hand back and this time, he was the one tearing up. “Mi amor, you don’t need to–you’ve done enough apologizing already.” 

"Miggs, don't say that. I–" 

"Stop. Stop it." Your husband straddled the bench, too, and scooted closer to you until he was more or less in your lap, his heavy thighs draped over your own. 

"But–" you started, and stopped as Miguel cupped your face with both hands and squished your cheeks. You sighed and leaned into his touch when it eased up. "Baby–" 

"Me arrepiento de lo que hice," he whispered to you, "espero algún día puedas perdonarme." He let go of your face, and found your hand to kiss its back. "Te amo." 

You smiled. Something real, something happy. Something that stayed around for more than a few seconds, and made the corners of your eyes crinkle with the beautiful way you'd aged. Then, you kissed him. 

"Te amo," you murmured back, your lips still touching his. "We'll figure this out. Work it out. We have the time." Your lips pressed against his again. "I'm not giving up on us." 

This time, Miguel cried.

It took some time to transport everything to Alchemax. It took a little bit longer to get you there, too. 

But you got there eventually, ready to stay for good, and ready to put Miguel's mind at ease. 

Your old friends and coworkers greeted you, clasping their hands on your back and hugging you tight until you couldn't breathe anymore. You smiled, too, and asked them how they were holding up, if your husband was keeping things in line. You couldn't help but remind them that you in fact hand the handsomest and smartest partner in the world, too. 

They let you get acquainted with the building pretty quickly, probably seeing the haggard, exhausted state you'd lived in for five years and wanting to let you unwind for the first time in a long time. And that called for a hot shower, food, and some sleep. 

"I'll take you to your room," Miguel told you as you both left the common area. 

"My room?" You retorted, sounding mighty confused and damn near insulted. 

Miguel blinked and looked at you. "Yeah. There's enough for–" Oh. 

"What's yours is mine, yeah?" You said, stern and a little bit spicy. "Then your room is mine. And your ass is–"

"Câllate," Miguel cut you off with a smile. "I'll take you to our room." 

He led you there with a bit of a spring to his step, and you kept up with as much enthusiasm. The room was nothing special, featuring nothing more beyond a mediocre bed, uninspired furnishings, and random knick knacks Miguel had left here over the years. But it was home. Your shared home. 

"Huh." You looked around the room. "I think that coffee table woulda looked nice here." 

Miguel scoffed a laugh and rested his hand on the small of your back. "You think so? I think it'd clash." 

"Yeah, well, you have bad taste, hun." 

"Oh, wow, you're really gonna say that when I'm married to you?" 

"I'm the one who confessed first. I'm the one who proposed. Pretty sure it's safe to say I picked you." You leaned toward him and kissed his cheek. “And I have good taste.”

Miguel felt his face get hot. "Shut up and take a shower." 

"Your wish is my command." You set your pack down by the bed before sliding open the door to the ensuite. Miguel watched you like a hawk, his prey drive skyrocketing when he caught swaths of your bare skin peeking out from the washroom. He wanted to watch more, but you deserved a little privacy. 

"Oh," you said, peeking out from the doorway. "I, uh, kept my phone through everything. There're some photos of Gabi, if you wanna check it out." You vanished back into the bathroom and Miguel heard the water turn on. "It's in my pack! In the shitty little phone pocket thing." 

"Yeah, I–okay, I'll take a look, thanks." Miguel smiled, and rummaged through what you'd brought with you before pulling out that beat up phone with the charger still plugged into it and kept together with bandages of tape. Colour him impressed. 

He sat on the edge of the bed and went straight for the camera roll. There were loads of new pictures ranging from Gabriella when she was littler, to pictures of animals that Miguel guessed Gabi had a hand in.

There were old pictures, too. Mostly of Miguel, as embarrassing as that was, but the baby photos took over his reign once that perfect little girl entered your life. It made Miguel wish he’d taken more photos, that he hadn’t thought it was too cliche and embarrassing to capture every moment. He used to say shit like, “Do you have to take a photo? Can’t you just live in the moment?” but you’d stick your tongue out, give him a pinch or a bite on his cheek or something else in retribution. Because you didn’t care, you wanted to look back on little memories. 

He scanned through photos until he caught one that sent a rush of red to his features; it was of him, on his back, eyes teary and face alight with a fierce blush as you, well, obviously fucked him stupid. It was the only one of its kind. Maybe you forgot to delete it? Maybe–

The videos. Oooh, now that had Miguel excited. Miguel scanned through the other folders, but found nothing, much to his dismay and relief, seeing as Gabi probably had free access to your phone. 

But then, he spied a locked folder. 

The first password he tried worked (your anniversary because duh. You were such a sap), and a whole catalogue of videos and pictures were unleashed. 

Miguel glanced up at the washroom door before he skimmed through. He remembered all of these places (but the geo tags helped, too. Christ, you were so organised with your exhibitionist porn), ranging from IKEA after closing, to an abandoned amusement park. He still didn’t know how you picked out these places, or how you knew how to get into them without getting in heaps of trouble with the authorities. 

He tapped on a video and bumped the volume up a couple notches, just so he could barely hear; it was him on his knees, on a rusty old ferris wheel, staring up at you like you were God himself as he gripped your thighs and did his damndest to give you the blowie of a lifetime. Your sighs and soft moans rippled through the speakers like waves lapping at the shoreline. Present Miguel rubbed his mouth, worrying at his bottom lip before licking the dryness away. 

“Good boy,” You whispered on the other side of the camera. Your hand came into view and carded through dark locks before cupping his cheek. Miguel of the past turned into your touch and took your thumb into his mouth while his hand took over stroking your length from base to tip over, and over again. 

Miguel swiped to the next video. He was on his back this time, in your shared bedroom, if that duvet cover was to be trusted, while your fingers plunged deep inside of his heat and tore loud moans and gasps from him. He remembered this; you called it an experiment before you bullied his prostate with three, thick digits.  

"How's that feel, gorgeous?" You purred. Miguel swallowed thickly, both in the video and in the now. His hesitant hand crept down his thigh slowly, like he was trying to hide it from himself and call it an accident as he reached to palm himself through his jeans while he watched. He almost felt guilty. But that's what made it better. 

"Good. Really fucking good." His past self rocked down against your fingers, choking on a needy whine as his eyes slid open, and found you. "I need you, mi amor. Please–" 

"I know, babe, I know. I'm almost done here," you promised. You tilted the camera down to his stretched hole to catch what you did next. "Then you can have whatever you want from me." 

You pressed your pinky in, then, and Miguel of the present bit his lip as his shocked gasp and shaky cry pierced through the speakers. Miguel still couldn't describe the deranged pleasure he got from having half your hand in his ass, nearly to the point of fisting him. 

Miguel switched to a different video quickly. The next one was in the Jeep you loved so much. You were both out camping for the weekend, something you loved and Miguel had learned to love; that stupid red truck became home for so many long weekends, it became host to long hours of napping and intimacy, it turned into one of Miguel's favourite places. 

The video started with you adjusting the camera and squinting at it while Miguel’s younger self bitched and moaned in the background. 

"I'm just making sure the tripod's working 'n shit, babe, just gimme a sec!" You whined back. 

"My dick's getting soft," Miguel threatened, so blasé but annoyed at the same time. "Come on, viejo." 

You pulled away from the camera, grinning smug as a fox, and scooted back to your lover. His past self was lounging, hair and clothes already a mess from the prologue to this movie, as he watched you.  

"I'm here, I'm here." You kissed him, and Miguel could almost taste the s’mores on your tongue, the coffee on your lips. "Sorry, just wanna make sure it's perfect." 

"Oh, yeah, 'course. Gotta make sure your indie porno looks good." 

"Hey, one day we're gonna look back on this! It's worth it, baby, trust me." 

"Whatever. Just kiss me," Miguel demanded with a laugh. And you did as you were told, kissing his lips, then down his chest, then–

"Knew you'd like watching 'em back." 

Miguel jumped, nearly dropping the phone as he jerked his hand away from his clothed bulge. "I, uh–what?" he asked dumbly as he stared at your built frame leaning against the doorframe. God, you were still an impressive specimen. He wished that loose towel would just drop from your hips already.

"Our, ah, home videos." You grinned, so much like that fox from the past, and paced to Miguel. "Nice looking back, ain't it?" You cupped the underside of his jaw and tilted his face up. "Got you a lil' excited, yeah?" 

You weren't wrong. With a hammering heart, burning skin, and tingling nerves, he couldn't deny he was stuck deep in a pool of desire and need. And now with you handling him like this–fuck. He was in trouble. 

Miguel nodded weakly. "Yeah." He took a deep breath. "Just a little." 

“I’ll help.” You eased onto the bed and took great care in settling behind him. "Let the video play," you whispered against his neck before leaving a possessive kiss. 

Miguel leaned back into you. He watched you pop open his jeans and slip a hand down, down, down, until your warm palm met his aching length. A shuddered breath escaped him when you felt him up, pulled him free, squeezing and stroking in all the right spots; it'd been so long since anyone touched him. It'd been so long since he touched himself. 

"I, ah, don’t think we–did we lock the door?" Miguel heard himself moan in the video, and he dared another look; your head bobbed between his thighs while fingers pistoned into him. He wondered if you would do that to him again. Maybe tonight. 

"Nope.”

“Shit.”

"Mmmh. You want me to stop jerking you off so you can lock it?" 

"No." 

You chuckled. "Okay." 

Your hand still worked him slowly and thoughtfully while lovers of the past filled in the rest of the silence. Miguel's hips bucked, and you hummed, so pleased with yourself. Pleased with yourself for pleasing him. Something Miguel found self-value in.

"I think I, uh, I think you mighta been right," he murmured to the air, trying to control his voice. Your gentle hum of intrigue spurred him on. "I think I need you to fuck me more than I realized. Need you to want me, ‘n…take me." 

“Yeah?” You asked before sinking a bite into his neck. “Figured you had somethin’ of a praise kink. Makes sense, in hindsight.”

Miguel gasped when you picked up the pace. “Fuck–I’d call it…mmmmn, I’d call it a-a love language–”

“Huh, didn’t know there were six love languages–”

“Sh-shut up, shut up, you know what I–what I mean–!” Miguel bit down hard on the inside of his mouth as his hips rocked up into your cruel, talented hand. He was close. How embarrassing. “I, uh…physical touch. Words of affirmation.”

“‘Needing my husband to fuck me and tell me I’m sexy.’” Miguel moaned and dug his head back into your shoulder as you chuckled. “That sound about right?”

“Viejo,” he whined, setting the phone aside to be forgotten. “I–”

“I know, baby; show me how hard this love language makes you cum.” 

It only took a few more strokes for Miguel to come undone. His teeth clattered together as he strained to keep his voice on lock as a forgotten rapture ripped the air from his lungs and electrocuted every vessel in his body. He clung to the other arm that’d come to wrap around his chest and hold him against you while you worked him through the motions, slowing down, accommodating the way his body reacted to the blinding pleasure. There were words said, probably encouraging ones muttered into his shoulder, but Miguel didn’t have the mind to parse the meaning of what you’d said. 

“Y’know,” you tried again when Miguel’s mind levelled out, “I think I have a praise kink, too. But a complimentary one. One where I like praising you.” You rested your chin on his shoulder and hummed. “Hm. Who woulda thought.”

“Hah. Good to know you’re still annoying,” Miguel said with a chuckle. He scrunched his nose up when you licked the side of his face. “(Name)--” 

“No.” You bit his cheek this time, and he sighed. You did, however, feel his softening cock start to come back to life again. “Want me to lock the door now, old man?” 

“Yeah,” he breathed. You got off the bed, letting the towel fall where it may, and Miguel finally gazed upon his lost treasure. “And set up your phone. We need to update the archives.”

You grinned when you turned back to him, and Miguel felt so at ease. 

There were still things to work out: the mental illness you hid from him, the cheating Miguel tried to hide from you, the little secrets you both kept wedged in the darkest cracks of your minds. But with you with him, the man who refused to give up on their bond and their love, Miguel felt safe indulging in mindless pleasure you so generously gave to him. Neither of you were about to seal away the past again, but if you could share in the good of your relationship while acknowledging the bad, then hope wasn’t lost; it was found in the moment you’d pulled his old wedding band from your pack, and slipped it back on Miguel’s finger that night, murmuring the words you said in a church so long ago:

“Till death do us part.”