#i was not expecting that to hit me so hard in the face

[seventeenpins]

new rules

pairing: ex!Worst!Logan Howlett x f!reader word count: 2.7k summary: You've been broken up for long enough. It shouldn't be this hard to stay away. content/warnings: smut, angst, Logan's a disaster alcoholic, suicidal ideation, unhealthy relationships, big dick a/n: I didn't expect the Logan bug to bite me, but here I am, horny for this old man, writing a songfic in the year of our lord two thousand twenty four. Dua Lipa's "New Rules" came on shuffle and I needed to make it about our big boy. Thank you to the loml @ozarkthedog for being the best human alive and also for hyping me up, reading it thru, and telling me "it made me actually want to try to fix him" 😅

You’re in your pajamas, toothbrush in hand and moisturizer shining on your face, when the screen of your phone lights up. You wince when you see the contact name.

DO NOT PICK UP

You watch as it rings out, and you exhale when the comfort of the black screen returns.

And then it lights up again.

Just ignore it. Just ignore it.

As you’re spitting your toothpaste into the sink, the screen lights up again, DO NOT PICK UP flashing across.

It’s a bad idea. It’s always a bad idea. 

But as it lights up a fourth time, you hit accept. As you bring the phone to your ear, you already know what you’re going to say; you need to stop calling like this; have you been drinking?; this isn’t going to happen again–

And then you hear his voice. It’s just a single word, and comes out more as a croak than anything else.

“Hi, baby-”

Just like the first time. The third. The five hundredth. It makes you fucking melt, makes your body heat and your stomach flip.

“Hi Logan.”

—

“It’s been too long, sweetheart-” 

“Yeah, well-” you sigh. You know how this always goes. “I told you not to call.”

“But you answered.” 

Even over the line he sounds smug. You wish you could punch him, god, if only. But you knew from past experience that his adamantium bones and entirely unfair regenerative powers would leave him perfectly unblemished, while you nursed a broken hand.

“Sooo-,” you venture, “Is there something you need?”

It was better to play clueless, you reasoned; You weren’t gonna jump the gun. You would make him spell it out.

"Just you, hon,” his voice is low and dangerous and you think you might really hate him this time.

“You know it’s nearly midnight, don’t you? Are you ever gonna call me when you’re sober?”

You hear a noncommittal grunt on the other end.

“What do you want, Logan?”

He takes a deep breath.

“Can I come over? I’ve just been missing you. Been a rough day.”

“No.”

“Please, baby? I need you. Please?”

You close your eyes and exhale. Ten calls ago, you might have tried to hide the frustration, but you’re well beyond that now.

It’s always a bad idea. Always makes you remember the bits of him you miss desperately. Your nights together. How you still fucking love him.

“Can take care of you, princess-“ he pleads.

“I hate when you call me that. And no, you can’t. You can’t even take care of yourself, Howlett.”

He huffs a laugh. “Been doin’ alright a couple hundred years. Keepin’ myself alive.”

You don’t want to say the question neither of you will acknowledge.

Is this really living?

“Fine. You can come over.”

“I’ll be there in five.”

“Motherfucker-! Have you been on your way this whole time, Lo?”

With a snort, he ends the call.

He’s on you before you can even get the door closed behind you. His hands are cradling your head as he kisses you deeply. You were right; he tastes like cheap whiskey. And cigarettes, you realize. Fucking cigarettes. And then you remember– he’s all but abandoned his cigars, as though the pain of losing a vice was part of his penance. 

With an awkward foot you try to hook the bridge of your foot along the edge of the door, pull at it, but instead of closing it you just overbalance, tumbling further into him.

He catches you as if it was nothing, as if he were so innately steady he’d always be there to break your fall.

When he has you back on your feet, he gets right back to it, tearing at your clothing and his, pulling your top over your head, fumbling with the drawstring of your bottoms. He cups your breasts, pinching and teasing, and walks you backwards till the backs of your knees hit the foot of your bed and you tumble. 

Logan tumbles with you, his hold on you never ceasing, and now you can feel how hard he is against you.

It sends a shiver down your spine.

You’ve missed this. Fuck you’ve missed this. What kind of self-destructive dumbass judgment were you letting rule you? 

You need to gain some control back.

“Condom,” you tell him. 

He rolls his eyes.

“I’m not joking, Logan. Should still be in the top drawer.”

He exhales with a chuckle, but pulls his beater over his head and lets you get an eyeful of his toned chest before leaning over and sliding the drawer open.

Then, he rummages around, pulling back with a shit-eating grin. 

In his hand is a roll of condoms, classic fit.

“You got a little boyfriend?” he asks, and you feel your face heat.

“Shut the fuck up, Logan.”

“Now I’m not seeing the Magnum’s in here. You sure you still have them? Or are you so busy fucking dumbass boys with little pricks that you can’t even bother to pick up the phone?”

“The condoms are just in case– better to be prepared– and besides it’s none of your fucking business if I’m sleeping with anyone else!”

“You know I can’t get STIs, right?”

You do know. You remember that first conversation years ago. You grit your teeth.

“And if you’re so worried,” he continues, “I’ll buy you Plan B.”

“Move,” you tell him, and he scoots back so you can look in the drawer yourself. Much to your chagrin, he’s right. Not a single gold packet in sight.

You groan, and he laughs.

You should tell him no. Should tell him that if he wants to fuck you, he needs to go out and get some. Because it’s not even the risk of any sort of transmission, or even the risk of pregnancy that gives you pause. It’s the intimacy. The way you can hardly bear it when you can feel him dripping out of you. The love you still have for him, even after everything. 

The way you know he still needs you, too. More than you need him. But after everything he’s done, everything he’s been through, everything he’s lost– you can’t bear to be another thing he loses, not fully.

But now he’s straddling you, scooting you backwards towards the head of the bed. His cock presses heavy against your thigh, and you’re so overwhelmed by the way he’s pressing kisses along your jaw and nibbling behind your ear, you barely notice as he lifts your hips to pull your panties down. His nails scrape down your back and the angry scratches start to bloom with heat. 

You don’t realize you’re both fully naked until you feel the heat from him press against you, the slick of his weeping cockhead dragging a trail just below your navel, down down down-

He strokes himself twice and lines himself up, pressing against your opening. You wait for the feeling, for the way he always slams inside you, but he surprises you. Presses the tip in and rocks himself gently, easing you open.

After a moment (and hardly a single inch) he pulls out and sits up.

For a gut-wrenching second, you think he’s changed his mind, and how fucking dare him? He’s not the one who gets to back out of this. Fuck.

But then his cock is replaced with his hand, and he pumps himself with his left, while pressing inside of you with his right, scissoring his fingers open, pulling whine and moan and gasp out of you, coaxing you along with his filthy mouth the whole way.

“Jesus Christ,” he sighs, letting out a groan when you squirm against him, “You’re tight as the first time I fucked you. Clearly no one’s been takin’ care of this pussy, huh?”

Two fingers become three, and you’re overwhelmed with sensation, pleasure taking over any rational thought.

“That’s it, honey, open up for me. Such a shame no one’s been fuckin’ you right. Would make you feel good every damn day if you’d let me.”

He rubs against your clit in unyielding circles and pulls you right to the edge. You feel yourself dripping, thighs trembling, and tears rolling down your face, but just as you’re about to cum he stops. He guides your arms upwards and pins you down by the wrists with one rough hand and leans over, caging you against the bed. In a second beat, he knocks your legs wide, baring you fully, and he presses himself in. You’re beyond slick and the glide is exquisite. The feeling of his bare cock pressing into you makes you shudder with arousal. The wiry hairs at the base of his cock grind against you, making you shake. 

He fucks you deep and slow. The drag is exquisite. He pulls almost the whole way out, before rocking back in again, his foreskin adding to the delicious glide. With every thrust he’s burying himself so deeply you’d swear you could feel him in your belly.

“You’re openin’ up so nice, takin’ it so good,” he growls, and you feel a thrill of pleasure bloom through your body at the praise. “Been missin’ this. Miss how soft you feel around me. Have you been missin’ your old man, too?”

You don’t even register he’s asked a question till his palm is swatting your jaw. It’s not painful, it doesn’t even sting. And it does exactly what he’d hoped; it refocuses you on him.

“Wha- What?” you ask, coming back to him, whilst feeling your peak build and build and build-

“Have you been missin’ your old man, princess? 

“Fuck you, Logan.”

“Use your words.”

“Yes-”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes I’ve been missing you. Stop looking at me like that, Lo. C’mon now, fuck me like you mean it.”

You can’t deal with him being sincere right now. You need it rough and you need it mean.

It takes him a moment to pull himself away but then he does, obliging as if he can read your thoughts. He pulls out, leans back, hooks your legs over his shoulders, and makes you moan as he folds you in half. He’s pressing so much deeper now than he had only a moment ago. Any gentleness that had been there disappears immediately.

He’s panting, letting out heavy grunts as he slams into you and sweat drips down his temple. 

As he fucks you, he drives into you cruelly but you match each thrust. Every time he knocks you back, you press against him harder and heavier. Make sure it hurts, for both of you.

He’s never been a selfish lover and makes you scream on his cock, cumming three times in rapid succession, each peak that little bit higher. Each peak is a little bit harder. 

You’re boneless and spent. When he cums inside you, his claws shoot out, angrily splintering existing notches on your headboard. Blood trickles down between his knuckles. One drop lands on your lips, the perfect kiss from this mess of a man. Another drop lands on your new linen pillowcase.

At least you got those tide pens. 

You want to tell him off about the headboard–the splintered edges are ugly and ragged. But the fact you hadn’t gotten a new headboard is kind of on you. It may as well be an invitation.

You add a note to your shopping list. Plan B.

—-

You wake up alone in a dark room. The first thing you see is your bedside alarm clock, red blinking numbers telling you it’s 3:12 AM. Then, you hear a rustling in your living room.

You step out to investigate, bleary-eyed, to find Logan silhouetted in front of your liquor cabinet, bottle of amber liquid in hand. He raises the bottle and takes a swig.

Back to this-

"Go home, Logan.” You tell him, and he startles at your voice.

"Baby- I been havin’ bad dreams-” 

You cut him off. "I’ll call you a cab. You’re not staying here, trying to drink yourself to death on my sofa-”

"Sweetheart,” he cuts in, “You know it never sticks-“ 

He says it with a grin like it means nothing, and it’s mean. Makes your stomach flip.

This is the closest either of you had ever gotten to the depths of it all. You’d both been pretending for so long.

You leave the room.

A minute later, you’re back, and Logan has emptied the bottle.

"Get dressed.” You toss his shirt at him. It smacks him in the face and falls unceremoniously to the floor. “Cab’s on its way. You owe me for the whiskey.”

He nods. His movement is loose, and you can see the booze is finally affecting him. More than just making him gutsy, it’s making him sloppy. Every movement is sluggish as he redresses.

"You wanna know why?” He asks, and it comes out slurred.

You ignore him. “I’ll walk you down. Get home safe, okay?”

He nods again. Looks like he’s trying to put on a show to prove just how sincere he is.

You kick his shoes towards him, and help him with his jacket when he struggles.

A horn honks outside, and you both look to the window. When you turn your head back, though, he’s only inches away from you, whiskey-breath across your cheek, and a wearier frown than he’s ever let you see before.

"When I drink I don’t dream-,“ he tells you, “Claws don’t come out.”

Then he kisses you on the cheek, turns on his heel with an unsteady sway, and leaves your home.

You struggle for hours to fall back asleep, the bed suddenly much too big.

You ignore his calls for a week. They come through later and later. Nine PM, ten. Midnight. Two.

And then one night you get a text. 

He’s rarely one for texting, so to see the notification makes your heart speed up and your stomach flip.

DO NOT PICK UP - Attachment: 1 Video

With a single, hesitant tap, you open it.

You’re not sure what you expected. Something dramatic, maybe? Something miserable? You hope to god he’s not figured out some way to make himself an adamantium bullet. It’s a fear that’s bounced around in your head for a while now, but you’d never ask just in case he hasn’t thought of it yet himself.

Whatever it is, though, it has to be something that will make your heart ache and your head spin and–

It’s anticlimactic. Kind of.

It’s just a video of him, phone angled to show him in his steamed-up mirror.

There are dark shadows beneath his red-rimmed eyes, but besides that, he looks as perfect as ever. You can’t see below his hips, but you know Logan and you know he’s fully naked. His body hair is slick, his skin glowing from being freshly showered.

This fucking asshole knows exactly how to get you.

You hit play. 

At first, you can barely tell it’s a video. And then you see the way his arm is moving. He’s holding his phone with one hand, his other casually stroking himself just below the frame of the video.

“You gonna stop ignoring me?” he asks, his voice a throaty purr. “Quit playing games. Get your ass over here and let me take care of you.”

AND, you realize with a twinge, you text with him so rarely, you never turned off read receipts.

Three dots appear and you know that he knows you’ve seen it. 

A moment later, the text comes through.

“Ready for you, princess.”

God, if only it would take more than that.

As if overtaken by a horny ghost, you’re already slipping your panties off and putting on your favorite skirt. 

You’re at his house an hour later. 

You let him guide you. Taste you. Fuck you. Fight with you. 

You let him devour you, and let yourself fall in with him, in with the guilt and the anger and the hate and self-pity.

And fuck, it’s the love, too. It never went away.

[shuenkio]

That basketball player | Lhs.

Paring: Heeseung X M!reader | Genre: SMUT

Synopsis: Since when did heeseung get that big glow up? Back in the junior year he was just a guy with his bang covering his forehead but now? You can't help but to stare at him every time he is playing basketball, jingling.

Cw: masturbate in the bathroom, bigger cock Heeseung, drunk, public explicit scenes, cursing, no plot Ig, alone time, mentioned of cum, stained etc. [18+] mdni

Non proof read | Eng is not my 1st.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

A#N: Yo what! I feel pity to leave y'all alone with my no update so here a smut hardcore, before I vanish once again. (Yes this is me, a bit freaky than usual ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

Being friends with a sports guy like Heeseung is not an easy job, nor is it for your mental, freaky mind. Every time you were there, watching him practice for the competition. You can't find but to stare at a little distracted place, like a weirdo. However, it's not one fault side; since Heeseung does have his own package ever since then, it'd be a jingle bell at every instance.

Not to mention, back in the junior year, Heeseung is just a guy who just hit puberty, freshly adult, bang cover all his forehead like a nerd. In the meantime, all that matters transformed into this: a hot guy with a huge beard that could squeeze a lemon, a slender yet masculine frame from head to toes, and the most glow-up part was probably his middle part.

Which you can't help but to wonder while nosebleed; imagine how'd it look like to be sight. And so on, wondering turns into reality when it's happening during the party of one of your classmates. Walking in the bathroom, as you thought nobody was there with no light on, until when the lights flickered, you were stunned, your hearts just doing a back flip once you saw the tipsy Heeseung who's jerking off on the toilet.

Omfg, is this for real? Think to yourself. Can't hide the red blush that was painted on your face, you immediately apologize and leave; however, before you could, a large hand appeared and pinged you against the door, allowing you to escape this awkward situation.

"Hmm... M/n? What a surprise to see you here during my alone time," said the half-drunk guy, looking down to see his cock peeking through his zipper, naked. In front of you, but did he care? No. You swallow down, feel like a stone stuck in your breath—this is just a dream wake-up.

Your reaction was funny enough to make Heeseung chuckle out; you seem to be nervous, shy, and lately a bit of a turn-on.

"We're alone, aren't we? Now don't hide your true colors, bud; I know you've always wanted this, isn't that right?" Heeseung claim, pointed out right through you. No way he caught you in act, but where? Yet there's no use right now to wonder about it; a big gigantic cock is staring at you right now; he was so hard his cum is leaking out, desperate for some way out of those balls.

Out of surprise, you snapped as Heeseung let out a moan, in contact with his skin too close to yours. Cover your face with your palm to evade your crazy mess face; his pre-cum began to stain on your pants!

"Fuck m/n, take a hold of it. Before I change my mind, I'm not sober," panicking Sprint free in your vein as you shudder to his words, Should you or shouldn't? This once-in-a-lifetime opportunity is so rare, you wouldn't want to go to waste.

Seeing you froze in the spot, back pressed against the door too much, Heeseung snatched one of your hands and wrapped them around his shaft. Lord, have mercy.

"Ahh, so good, m/n, euuu, that's right," biting his lip, his back arching forward, thrusting inside of your palm in rhythm. Both of his hands are pinning you in between, while he endures in pleasure. No word to say; you seem to enjoy what you're doing. His foreskin moved up and down, his tip peeking in every stroke.

Heeseung's freaky side was not what you expected; he was far more wild. Your surroundings are no longer your priority; you didn't care if anyone might hear. Continue to please the man of your dreams; no, this is a dream to be able to touch him, your friend.

A few more strokes, his hip bucking more and more needy, his balls later slipped out of his underwear, come out before slapping against the friction of his own pant. As a result, the fire in him turned on even better. Both of you can't think straight, locked in this bathroom, just the two, enjoying times together.

"Cum... I need to cum m/n!! I'm going to piss Ahh Ahh FUCK." He's knees weaken. The hands that are pinning you in find their way to belt around your waist, despairing for support, before a load of hot cum splashes out on both clothes. Heeseung is indeed sensitive; that might as well be one of his weaknesses for your dictionary.

He then falls down on the floor on his knees finally, as he leans against the wall nearby in this tight space. Draining out and overwhelmed by the masturbation. Little did you know, there's also a stain in your pants too, not only from Heeseung's cum stained. Ugh, he got you in anyway possible.

"Shit..." A couple of minutes passed, his brows furrowing while his eyes shut, before he pissed out for real.

"I—damn it." 

[tpwk-formula1]

Hi! I would like to make a pizza order with a sicilian crust and res sauce. I would like green peppers, salami, spinach and mozzarella and no dessert. For drinks, I would like a coke and a wine for Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc please. Thank you

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

sicilian crust dating red sauce rough sex green peppers "I'm gonna have that ass glowing red by the time I'm done with you" salami "Such a little cum slut" spinach "Awe I love to know I stretched you out just enough to take all my cock" mozzarella “All you ever do is bitch and complain, just fucking take it” coke spanking wine free use kink dessert no served by Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x poly! reader

TW spanking, finger fucking, unprotected sex, creampie, blow job, cum swallowing, finger fucking, MDNI 18+

WC 1300+

Y/N POV

"Our hotel 8pm, do not be late" Max whispers in my ear making me nod softly before getting back to work.

As the day goes on I can't help but think about what's gonna happen tonight. This is how it works, when Charles and Max need a third they give me a time and a place and I'm expected to be there, and if I need a release I do the same.

I don't leave the Red Bull hospitality until late due to extra work needing to be done so by the time I'm knocking on the door ten minutes late.

"You're late," Charles said when opening the door.

"I'm aware, it's not my fault," I said while walking into their hotel room before plopping on the couch next to Max.

"I told you to be on time," Max says roughly making me shake my head.

"Tell Horner to not hold me late so you can wet your dick," I snap not enjoying the attitude I'm receiving from both of the men.

My attitude snaps something in Max cause the next thing I know I'm being dragged across his lap and pulling the skirt I'm wear up to expose my pale ass to him.

"I'm gonna have that ass glowing red by the time I'm done with you" Max says before landing a rough slap right on my ass, making me whine at the sting.

"Fuck," I moan when he sends another slap to my ass.

"Don't start being a brat now," Max roughly states before sending another hard slap to my ass making me scream out again.

"Fuck, Max," I groan when his rough hand is rubbing the place he just slapped.

I feel another 3 slaps fly down in quick successions making me jolt forward while screaming out at the quick and harsh pain that is sending pleasure straight to my core.

"No more," I moan out. The pain was far from unbearable but the throb between my thighs is becoming unbearable.

"All you ever do is bitch and complain, just fucking take it” Max says sending another several slaps on my ass making me moan.

When Max has reddened my ass to his liking I feel Charles's hands on my hip pulling me up and turning me around to pull me in for a messy makeout.

He leads us to the bed where he softly pushes me onto the bed before climbing on top of me and grinding his hardening cock into my throbbing core.

"Charlie, please," I whine bucking my hips up trying to get more stimulation.

"Patience," Charles mumbles starting to trail his kisses down my body, starting to pull my shirt up making me sit up slightly so he can pull it off all the way. Once my shirt has been discarded somewhere in the room he makes quick work of unclipping my bra and discarding it too before going back to kissing down my neck where he settles on my tits and pulls my nipple into his mouth and gives it a strong suck before moving to my other nipple.

I feel Max crawl into bed near my face before he's leaning down and pulling me in for another kiss making me whimper into his lips at hot rough he is being.

I feel my skirt and thong be pulled down and thrown to join the rest of my clothes on the floor before he groans making me gasp when his breath hits my pussy.

"She's fucking drench," Charles tells Max making Max smirk against my lips proud of himself.

"Such a good slut, getting drenched from your spanking," Max whispers making me moan when Charles takes a small lick at my clit.

"More," I moan needing Charles to pick up the pace. Charles listens but only slightly. He sped up his actions but was still moving at such a teasing pace making me moan loudly.

"Fuck, feels so good," I mumble against Max's lips.

Charles finally slipped a few fingers into my pussy stretching me out making me scream at the pleasure coursing through me.

"Fuck," I moan when Charles starts finger fucking me and sucking on my clit bringing me to the edge and threatening to fall into a strong orgasm.

"Cum for him," Max mumbles against my lips while pulling one of my nipples between his fingers and giving it a tug, and throwing me over the edge from all of the stimulation coursing through my body.

Charles makes sure to help ride my orgasm out while Max holds me down slightly making sure I can't wiggle away from the pleasure.

Once I start cumming down from my orgasm Charles slows his actions down before slowly pulling away. It doesn't take long for Max to pull me up the bed slightly before flipping me over so I'm on my stomach.

I instantly get on my knees and arch my back. I feel Max shuffle behind me before Charles appears in front of me with his shirt and pants off leaving me to stare at his large cock making my mouth water slightly.

I instantly pull Charles's cock into my hand before I start sucking on the tip making Charles hiss at the pleasure. While I'm slowly jerking Charles's cock I feel the tip of Max's cock start teasing my pussy making me moan around Charles's cock sending vibrations down on him making him moan.

When Max slips into my pussy I pull off CHarles's cock and scream slightly from how full I felt.

Awe I love to know I stretched you out just enough to take all my cock" Max groans when he starts picking up the pace of his thrust making me moan loudly before pulling Charles back into my mouth.

"Fuck, so good," Charles groans pulling my hair into a makeshift pony helping me to bob my head on his cock faster, making me gag around his cock.

I can feel Max's pace start to pick up making me moan that is easily muffled by Charles's large cock.

"Fuck, she's gonna cum again," Max groans to Charles making me clench around him from being talked about like I couldn't hear him.

"Cum for Max," Charles says making me instantly cum all around Max's cock feeling his hips start to buck erratically before feeling him start to cum deep into my pussy.

He continues to fuck me making sure to help us ride our orgasms out. I could tell Charles was close to the edge as well which has me pulling him all the way into my mouth and down my throat making me gag before Charles starts unleashing a large load of his cum down my throat making me start swallowing instantly.

"Such a little cum slut," Charles groans when he slips his cock out, making me whine slightly. I loved having Charles's cock filling my mouth up as much as he loved having his cock shoved down my throat.

I feel Max slowly slip out of my pussy making me gasp at the emptiness before moaning slightly when his cum starts to leak down my pussy and over my sensitive clit.

"God I could watch my cum leak out of this pussy all day," Max groans before swiping his fingers through my folds and pushing two fingers into my pussy making me moan.

"I wanna see you cum again," Max says while starting to finger fuck me.

"Fuck," I moan when I can feel my orgasm approaching far sooner than it should. After having two strong orgasms I get so sensitive it doesn't take much to cum again and Max knew this.

"Come on, cum for me," Max groans speeding up his fingers before bringing his thumb down to tease my clit making me scream out as I start cumming all over Max's fingers.

"Good girl," Max says while riding my orgasm out before slipping his fingers out and offering them to Charles so he can lick them clean.

"Fuck, that's hot," I whisper as I watch Charles twirl his tongue around Max's cum soaked fingers. Charles just groans at the favor before pulling away and placing a wet kiss on my lips making sure I can taste Max and I's cum mixing together.

[callsigns-haze]

His Shadow: Chp 6

masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

Azriel, secretly juggling his responsibilities and personal life, maintains a hidden relationship with YN, who works at a pleasure house in the Hewn City. She was his light, his love, his passion. Yet being his darkest secret is a hard role because life in the Hewn as a young female isn't the easiest as the two of you hold an even dark secret yet to be told...

Pairing: Azriel x reader

This series contains mature themes: Explicit depictions of violence, including physical and emotional. Themes of secrecy. Descriptions of difficult relationships, including strained familial and romantic dynamics. Mature sexual content. Themes of power, control, and manipulation within complex interpersonal relationships. Discussions of parenthood and the challenges associated with it, including postpartum experiences.

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of their apartment, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. The soft light highlighted the simple, yet cozy space they had made their own—a sanctuary that was their little world, hidden from the eyes of everyone else. Knox was still asleep in his crib, his tiny chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, blissfully unaware of the tension building between his parents.

YN stood near the window, her back turned to Azriel, arms crossed over her chest. Her posture was stiff, her shoulders tense as she stared out at the city, her reflection barely visible in the glass. Azriel could feel the frustration radiating off her in waves, and he knew that this conversation was inevitable. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.

He had taken the week off, needing to be with his family, needing to be with her. After overhearing Cassian and Mor talk about their little spying expedition on YN, he had made the decision quickly, without hesitation. But now, as he watched YN’s back, he wondered if he had acted too impulsively.

“Why did you do it, Azriel?” YN’s voice broke the silence, cutting through the stillness of the morning. It was calm, but there was an edge to it—one that Azriel recognized all too well. She was holding back, trying to keep her emotions in check, but he knew she was upset. “Why did you take the week off?”

Azriel let out a slow breath, his wings rustling slightly as he stepped closer to her. “I wanted to be here with you and Knox,” he answered, keeping his voice steady. “After everything that’s happened, I thought you could use the support. I wanted to make sure you both were safe.”

She turned around to face him, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something else—something that looked a lot like hurt. “Safe?” she repeated, her tone incredulous. “Azriel, we’re not in immediate danger. You’re acting like I can’t take care of myself and our son without you hovering over us.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Azriel replied quickly, though he knew that wasn’t entirely true. He was protective—maybe too protective, especially now that their lives were more complicated than ever. He crossed the distance between them, his hands reaching out to take hers, but she stepped back, putting more space between them.

“Isn’t it?” she shot back, her voice rising slightly. “You’re here because you don’t trust me to handle things on my own. You’re here because you think you need to shield us from everything—even from your own family. But Azriel, I can’t live like this. We can’t live like this, constantly looking over our shoulders, constantly hiding.”

Her words hit him hard, and he knew she was right. But it didn’t change the fact that he felt this deep, unrelenting need to protect her, to protect Knox, to be there every moment in case something went wrong. The thought of losing them—of anything happening to them—was more than he could bear.

“YN, I’m not trying to smother you,” he said, his voice softer now, tinged with the desperation he felt. “I just… I need to be sure. After what happened yesterday, after knowing they were watching you—I can’t just leave you both alone and hope everything will be fine.”

Her eyes softened slightly at his words, the anger ebbing away, replaced by a sadness that made Azriel’s heart ache. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment as if trying to gather her thoughts before she spoke again.

“Azriel,” she said more gently, “I understand why you feel the way you do. I do. But this… this isn’t sustainable. We can’t keep living in fear, can’t keep reacting to what might happen. We need to trust each other, trust that we can handle things—even when you’re not here.”

Azriel’s shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He knew she was right, but it was so hard to let go of that instinct, the one that told him he needed to be there every moment to protect them. He had been living on the edge for so long, constantly aware of the dangers lurking in the shadows, that he didn’t know how to step back and just… breathe.

“I do trust you,” he said finally, his voice rough with emotion. “I trust you more than anyone, YN. But I’ve spent centuries living in a world where letting your guard down, even for a moment, can cost you everything. I’m sorry if I’m overbearing—I just can’t lose you. I can’t lose our son.”

YN’s expression softened further, the tension in her posture easing slightly as she stepped closer to him. She reached out, her hand resting against his chest, right over his heart. “You won’t lose us,” she said firmly, looking up at him with a gaze full of determination. “But you have to let us live, Azriel. We can’t keep hiding in the shadows like this. I need you to believe that we can handle this—together.”

Azriel closed his eyes, leaning into her touch as he absorbed her words. She was right, of course. YN had always been strong, far stronger than he sometimes gave her credit for. And Knox—he was still so small, but Azriel knew his son would grow up to be just as strong. They didn’t need him to shield them from the world; they needed him to stand beside them, to be their partner, not their protector.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, opening his eyes to meet hers. “I’ll try to do better. I promise.”

She smiled at him then, a small but genuine smile that made the tightness in his chest ease just a little. “That’s all I ask,” she said softly, her hand moving up to cup his cheek. “We’re in this together, Azriel. Always.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, the simple act grounding him, reminding him of what truly mattered. “Always,” he echoed, his voice filled with a quiet resolve.

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s presence, the tension between them slowly dissipating. Outside, the sun continued to rise, bathing the room in warmth and light, as if to remind them that there was still hope, still a future to be had, as long as they faced it together.

In the crib beside them, Knox let out a small whimper, his tiny wings fluttering as he stirred from his sleep. YN pulled back from Azriel with a soft laugh, her eyes sparkling with affection as she turned to their son. “Looks like someone’s awake,” she murmured, moving over to the crib to pick Knox up.

Azriel watched her, his heart swelling with love as she cradled their son in her arms. Knox blinked up at her, his small mouth forming a perfect little ‘O’ as he looked between his parents. Azriel stepped closer, wrapping an arm around YN’s waist as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Knox’s head.

“We’ll be okay,” YN said quietly, more to herself than to him, as she rocked Knox gently in her arms. But Azriel heard the conviction in her voice, the belief that they would find a way through this—together. And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe it too.

---

River House was alive with activity as the Inner Circle gathered in the spacious sitting room. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting warm pools of light across the room’s plush furniture. Cassian was sprawled in one of the armchairs, his wings half-draped over the sides, while Rhys sat opposite him, leaning casually against the backrest of a couch. Mor and Feyre were nearby, quietly sipping their tea, and Amren was perched on the window sill, her sharp eyes watching everyone with mild disinterest.

As usual, the meeting started casually, with updates on Velaris, news from the courts, and the usual banter. But something was different this morning, an undercurrent of curiosity running through the group. Azriel’s absence was becoming more noticeable, especially given his sudden declaration of taking a week off—a rare occurrence.

"So, does anyone else find it weird that Azriel's taking a week off?" Cassian said, breaking the silence. He shifted in his seat, his brow furrowed with a mix of concern and confusion. “I can’t remember the last time that happened. Not without a reason.”

Rhys’s violet eyes flickered with amusement, but there was a hint of curiosity as well. "It’s not like him," he admitted, his voice smooth. "Azriel rarely takes time for himself. He’s always working, always looking for the next mission or lead. But a whole week off? That’s new."

Mor nodded in agreement, her lips quirking in a small smile. “Maybe he finally realized he needs a break,” she said with a light laugh. “Even shadowsingers need to recharge once in a while.”

Feyre glanced at Rhys, her brow arched in thought. "He didn't seem like anything was wrong the last time I saw him. Do you think something’s going on that he’s not telling us?"

Cassian sat up straighter, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t be surprised. You know how secretive he can be. But a whole week off? Something doesn’t add up.”

"Maybe he met someone," Mor suggested, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “Maybe there’s a secret lover involved, and he’s just been keeping it from us.”

At that, Cassian snorted, his wings shifting behind him as he chuckled. "Azriel? Keeping a secret lover from us? That sounds about right, actually. He’s good at hiding things.”

Rhys tilted his head, a slight frown creasing his brow. “He’s been acting strange lately. Not just with the time off, but before that too. More secretive than usual. And those late-night disappearances…”

Feyre leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “Do you think he’s hiding something serious?”

Rhys let out a thoughtful hum, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest of the couch. “Could be. Azriel’s not one to share things unless it’s absolutely necessary. If something’s bothering him, he’ll bury it deep.”

Mor crossed her arms, glancing between Rhys and Cassian. “Do you think it has to do with the place we went to in the Hewn City? The woman—YN—she seemed close to him. Could it be related?”

Rhys’s eyes darkened for a moment, as if recalling the encounter at the pleasure house. “Possibly. He did seem more… comfortable there than usual. And she did say something about going back after maternity leave. Perhaps Azriel’s more involved in her life than we thought.”

Cassian shifted, his expression turning more serious. "You think he's involved with her?"

"It’s possible," Rhys said slowly. "But Azriel’s careful. If he’s keeping something from us, it’s for a reason."

Amren, who had been silently observing the conversation, finally spoke, her voice dry and laced with boredom. “Whatever it is, he’ll tell you when he’s ready. No point in speculating about his private life.”

Mor glanced at Amren, then back at the others. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on things. If he’s tangled up in something, we should know. Especially if it affects us or the missions we’re planning.”

Rhys gave a slow nod, his gaze flicking toward the window as if he were already piecing things together in his mind. “Agreed. But we give him space. Azriel’s earned that much.”

Cassian leaned back in his chair, his eyes thoughtful. “Yeah, but if he disappears again, I’m dragging him back here myself.”

The group shared a small laugh, but the lingering tension remained. Azriel’s absence weighed on them more than they were willing to admit, and the mystery of his sudden break gnawed at their collective curiosity.

As the conversation lulled, Rhys’s gaze turned distant, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. He could sense there was more to this story than what met the eye. Something was going on with Azriel—something deeper than just taking time off.

But for now, they would wait. And watch.

---

YN walked into the pleasure home, the familiar scent of incense and low hum of conversation filling the air. She had grown accustomed to the atmosphere over the years—the darkened rooms, the hushed voices, the hidden glances exchanged between patrons and the workers. Tonight, though, something felt different. Her nerves were on edge, her mind still unsettled by the feeling that she was being watched the other day at the market.

As she adjusted her black silk dress, ensuring it clung to her in all the right places, she pushed those thoughts aside. She had work to do, and there was no room for distractions. She glanced around the room, scanning the faces of the patrons lounging in their seats, drinks in hand and their eyes on the stage where the night's entertainment had just begun.

And then she saw them.

At one of the booths near the back, sitting comfortably as if they belonged, were Rhysand and Cassian. But this time, they weren’t alone. Their partners, Nesta and Feyre, were with them. The sight of the group made YN pause for a split second, her breath catching in her throat as recognition hit her. It was them—she had felt their presence before. They were the ones who had been following her at the market just the day before.

She played it cool, forcing a neutral expression onto her face as she straightened her posture. Whatever they were doing here, she wasn’t going to let them know that she had figured it out. She was already too involved in the tangled mess of Azriel’s secrets, and the last thing she needed was to attract more attention from his friends. Especially Feyre and Nesta. If they even had the faintest idea about her connection to Azriel, things could go downhill fast.

With a calm smile plastered on her face, she made her way toward their table. Her heart raced beneath her composed exterior, but she kept her movements steady, her steps measured and graceful as she approached the group.

"Good evening," YN greeted them, her voice smooth and professional as she came to a stop by their table. "What can I get for you tonight?"

Rhysand, ever the picture of charm and elegance, offered her a polite smile. His violet eyes met hers briefly, but there was a flicker of something beneath the surface—curiosity, perhaps, or maybe suspicion. Cassian leaned back in his chair, his arm draped casually over Nesta’s shoulders, while Feyre, sitting next to Rhys, regarded YN with an air of quiet observation.

“We’ll start with a round of drinks,” Rhys said, his tone casual, but YN could feel the weight of his gaze on her, as if he were sizing her up. “Something strong.”

YN nodded, jotting down the order even though she didn’t need to. She had memorized the menu long ago. “I’ll be right back with that.”

She turned on her heel and walked away, her mind racing as she made her way to the bar. It was no coincidence that they were here again, especially after what happened at the market. Rhys and Cassian had come to the pleasure home with Azriel once before, and now this was their third visit in such a short time. It couldn’t be a casual night out—it had to be something more.

Harvey, her bartender friend, raised an eyebrow as she approached. "You okay?" he asked quietly, noticing the tension in her shoulders.

YN forced a smile, shaking her head slightly. "Fine. Just...unexpected company," she muttered as she handed him the drink order. Her mind was spinning with questions, but she knew better than to discuss anything in the open.

As Harvey prepared the drinks, YN leaned against the bar, trying to steady herself. She had to stay calm, keep up the act. If Rhysand and the others were here for information, she couldn’t afford to give anything away. Not about herself, not about Azriel. Not about Knox. They still had no idea about her and Azriel, and she intended to keep it that way.

After a few minutes, Harvey slid the tray of drinks toward her, and YN lifted it carefully, balancing it in her hands as she returned to the table. She felt their eyes on her as she approached, but she kept her expression neutral, her smile practiced and professional.

"Here you go," she said, setting the drinks down in front of them. She noticed how Feyre’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary, as if trying to place her.

"Thanks," Cassian said, his voice gruff but polite. Nesta glanced up at YN briefly before turning her attention back to her drink, uninterested in the small talk.

As YN set the last glass down in front of Rhys, she caught his gaze again. His expression was calm, unreadable, but she could sense the questions lurking beneath the surface. She had been in enough rooms with men like him to know when someone was trying to figure out a puzzle—and tonight, she was the puzzle.

Before anyone could say anything further, YN gave them a small nod and turned to leave, her pulse quickening as she walked away. She had to be careful now. Whatever game they were playing, she was already too deep in it. And with Azriel out on his week off, the last thing she needed was for his inner circle to find out about Knox—or their relationship.

As she walked back toward the bar, she allowed herself a moment to breathe. They were watching her, but she had survived worse. She just had to keep her head down, play her part, and hope that they wouldn’t dig too deep.

But the nagging thought wouldn’t leave her: Why were they here again? And what, exactly, were they hoping to find out?

YN stepped through the door of their small apartment, her body aching from the weight of the day. Exhaustion clung to her like a second skin, and her mind raced with endless thoughts—who had been spying on her, why the Inner Circle kept showing up, and what it all meant for her and Azriel. She had kept her cool at the pleasure house, but the constant pressure of pretending everything was normal while being watched was wearing her down.

The familiar warmth of home wrapped around her as she shut the door quietly behind her, but the tension in her body refused to ease. She dropped her bag on the floor, her gaze flicking to the couch where Azriel sat, barefoot and bare-chested, with only a pair of loose sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He was leaning back, a book resting in his hands, though the moment she entered, his golden-brown eyes were on her, sensing her frustration without needing to ask.

“Rough night?” Azriel asked softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. He closed the book and set it aside, his attention fully on her.

YN gave a small nod, too tired to speak. The weight of everything pressed down on her, making her feel like she could collapse right there in the doorway. Her shoulders slumped, and Azriel immediately got up, moving toward her with a fluid grace that belied the exhaustion she knew he carried too.

He reached for her gently, his hands sliding under her shirt, lifting it over her head in one smooth motion. The cool air hit her skin, but it wasn’t the chill that made her shiver. It was the way Azriel’s hands worked with such care, as though she were made of something fragile, even though he knew better than anyone that she wasn’t.

When he unclasped her bra and slid it off her shoulders, YN let out a long, shaky breath. Azriel’s presence was grounding, his hands firm yet tender as he guided her to the couch. He sat down first, pulling her with him until she was lying against his chest, her legs draped over his as she settled into his warmth. The steady rise and fall of his breathing was the only sound in the room for a moment, and YN could feel some of the tension in her body begin to melt away.

But she still felt overwhelmed—by the spying, by the uncertainty, by the weight of the past few days.

Azriel knew. He always did. His calloused hands moved to the scars on her back, the ridged lines that traced where her wings had been brutally clipped when she was only nine years old. It had been a trauma that never left her, not in all the years since. Even though she had healed, those scars still carried memories she couldn’t shake. And Azriel knew how much they haunted her.

His fingers brushed lightly over the scars, tracing the familiar pattern as he began to massage the tense muscles beneath. The pressure was just enough to ease the knots that had formed in her back, and YN couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped her lips. He always knew how to take the pain away—both the physical and the emotional.

"Talk to me," Azriel murmured, his voice a quiet invitation. "What happened?"

YN closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his body and the soothing motions of his hands carry her for a moment. “I think they’re watching me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I recognized Rhys and Cassian at the pleasure house tonight, and... they’ve been following me. I know it.”

Azriel’s hands paused briefly before continuing their gentle rhythm. He didn’t ask who “they” were—he didn’t need to. He had already suspected the Inner Circle’s involvement, though hearing it confirmed made his chest tighten.

“I’ll take care of it,” he promised quietly, his voice steady and unwavering. “You don’t have to worry about them.”

But that wasn’t the only thing gnawing at YN. There was more—the weight of being watched, the fear that their secret might be exposed. The fear that her past, her clipped wings, her life at the pleasure house, and everything she had built with Azriel and Knox would come crashing down.

“They don’t know about us, about Knox,” YN continued, her voice trembling slightly as she curled in closer to Azriel. “But if they keep following me... I’m scared they’ll find out.”

Azriel’s arms tightened around her, pulling her flush against his chest. His lips pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, a silent reassurance. “They won’t,” he murmured, his breath warm against her hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you or Knox. You’re both safe.”

YN buried her face against his chest, the steady beat of his heart calming the storm inside her. She believed him—she always did. Azriel had been her anchor, her protector, the one person who had stood by her when no one else would. But even with his promises, the weight of everything still felt like too much.

His hands continued to work at the knots in her back, his fingers gentle yet firm, easing the tension from her muscles. YN let out a shaky breath, feeling her body slowly relax under his touch. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink deeper into the safety of Azriel’s arms, the familiar scent of him wrapping around her like a cocoon.

For a few moments, it was just them—their shared silence, the unspoken bond between them. Azriel’s hands never stopped moving, soothing the aches and pains that had built up inside her. His presence was her sanctuary, the one place she felt truly at peace.

And for now, that was enough.

Let me know if you'd wish to be tagged! Comments and reblogs are really appreciated!

There's three more chapters left and I think I might make a sequel but not with the mmc you think it is.... But the drama unfolds in the next chapter

[withahappyrefrain]

FRAT TASM!PETER WITH

“I had a dream about you last night. Woke up hard/wet. Wanna hear about it?”

THIS IS SOMETHING THAT COCKY ASSHOLE WOULD SAYYY OH MY GOD

This is how blonde frat Peter returns bless you

Warning: language, frat Peter being a cocky little shit, female reader, I think that's it!

"Hey, you made it after all."

You audbily breathe in through your nose, trying to ignore the fumes of vodka and who knows what else was in this God forsaken jungle juice.

Anything to give you the strength to face Peter Parker.

You turn around to find him leaning against the door, a joint tucked behind his ear, hands in the pocket of his black hoodie, bleached blonde hair somehow perfectly messy.

"Don't get ahead of yourself Parker. I'm only here to support my roommate," you scoff, turning your attention back to the game of beer pong. Not that you were truly interested.

But you couldn't let him know that.

You regret being late to the first day of your Science Diplomacy & World Health class. Had you known it would have left you no choice but to sit next to Peter Parker, you wouldn't have hit the snooze button for your alarm five times.

It wasn't even like you had asked to borrow a pencil from him. He seemed drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.

"Y'know, I feel like I would have remembered a face like yours. You a transfer?" He asked, as if you two weren't in the middle of a lecture.

Thanks to your roommate being in the sorority that paired up with his frat, you had heard all about Peter Parker. The infamous parties. How he dyed his hair blonde at the beginning of sophomore. How he's the biggest flirt that Delta Lambda Phi had.

You didn't even look at him when you responded, "We've been in the same class since freshman year. But I came here to get a degree, not to party."

Ever since that day, he wouldn't leave you alone. At first it started with ridiculously over the top pick up lines.

"Are you made up of copper and tellurium? Because you're cute."

All you could do was roll your eyes at every line, mustering all the strength you had to not smile. You had eyes, the guy was cute. But you also knew his type.

So when he extended a personal invite to the latest frat party, you simply turned him down, like you had for countless of other parties.

Of course, as luck would have it, it was exactly the party your roommate wanted to go to.

You hoped to avoid him, hoped that your roommate would find whoever she was looking for so you could leave.

But it was as if Peter Parker had a sixth sense for you specifically. His inability to find you in libraries, dinning halls, and the university's coffee shop (bc fuck Starbucks) had now extended to frat parties.

"You know Parker, stalking is a serious crime," you scoff, refusing to look at him. The ever present scent of cinnamon alerted you that he was now standing next to you.

"It's not my fault you have a beautiful face that I could pick out from a crowd," He mumbles, a stark contrast to the usual cocky bravada you're used to.

"Excuse me?" Without thinking, you turn to face him, making contact with those big brown eyes.

The corner of his pink lips jerk upwards as he leans in, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. His touch is gentle, something you weren't expecting at all.

"You heard me." The cocky smile had returned, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Hey, don't gimme that. I know you love how cheesy I am."

Unfortunately, it was true. He was never crude and it somehow sounded genuine, despite being accompanied by a worn snapback.

"It's not crass, unlike your fellow brotherin. I'll give you that Parker." You would have taken a step back if you could, but you were now up against the wall. But he still had space to close in on you, not that he did. He always kept enough distance that you could walk away.

Come to think of it, you hadn't seen or heard him flirt with anyone since the first day of classes.

"Y'know, I got an offer from Delta Chi. It could be way worse." His comment earned a laugh from you, a feat Peter was quite proud of.

"You're right, I guess I should give you that."

"I think you can give me a lot more," He leaned in, closing some of the distance between you two but not all the way, "If you want."

The ball was in your court. His lips looked so soft, no doubt from the vanilla chapstick he used. God, why did you know that about him? And why did he always smell like cinnamon instead of Axe body spray? That's what he should be using, it would certainly make it easier for you to discourage your own feelings about the guy.

Tired of denying, tired of putting up a wall, and not kissing anyone in the last four months caused you to grab at his hoodie, your lips crashing onto his.

You vaguely register the sound of the dropped plastic cup, as your fingers thread through his hair to find it soft, despite all the hair dye and bleach.

Peter's hands feel large as they skim your sides, landing at your hips. When his tongue slid across your bottom lip, you could feel your knees begin to go weak. As if he could sense it, he pushed your back firmly against the wall, one of his large hands going down to your thigh to help steady you.

Fuck, his lips were soft. There was muscle underneath that hoodie, you could feel it.

His lips trailed down to your jaw before settling on your ear.

"I had a dream about you last night. Woke up hard. Wanna hear about it?"

Desire burned at the pit of your stomach, your fingers gripping the strands of his hair.

"Where the fuck is your bedroom Parker?"

[ewyuzu]

cold distance

toji fushiguro x reader

warning: contains emotional conflict and themes of abandonment.

you sit at the edge of the bed, your fingers nervously tracing the hem of your shirt as you wait for toji to come back. the apartment feels colder when he’s not around, the silence heavy and unsettling. you hear the front door creak open, and your heart skips a beat. but instead of relief, all you feel is a knot tightening in your chest. he’s been gone for days—no call, no text, no sign of life.

he strolls in, as casual as ever, tossing his jacket onto the couch without so much as a glance in your direction. his hair is slightly dishevelled, and there’s a faint bruise on his jaw, but he acts like nothing’s wrong, like this is normal.

“you’re late again,” you say quietly, not wanting your voice to shake, but the frustration is hard to hide.

toji barely spares you a glance, his tone dismissive. “got caught up. not a big deal.”

you swallow hard, feeling the familiar anger rise up inside you. it’s always like this—he comes back late, no explanation, and expects you to just accept it. for once, you can’t. “it is a big deal,” you snap, standing up, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “you disappear for days, and i have no idea if you’re even alive. and when you finally show up, you act like nothing happened.”

he arches a brow, his expression indifferent. “i told you before, this is how it is. if you can’t handle it, maybe you’re not cut out for this.”

his words sting more than you want to admit, but you can’t let him brush you off like that. “it’s not just about handling it, toji. you make everything else your priority—your jobs, your survival, even your past. but what about us? what about me?” your voice is trembling now, but you push through, needing him to understand.

he lets out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his dark hair. “i’ve told you from the start, i’m not the kind of guy who sits around and plays house. this is what i do. it’s how i survive.”

“and what about your son?” the words leave your mouth before you can stop them, and you immediately see his expression change. his eyes darken, and his posture stiffens. you know you’ve hit a nerve, but you can’t stop now. “you don’t just push me aside, you push everyone away. including him. don’t you even care about him?”

toji’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. the tension between you both thickens, the air heavy with unspoken words. when he finally speaks, his voice is low and controlled, but there’s an edge to it. “that’s none of your business.”

“it is my business,” you insist, taking a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. “he’s your son, toji. and you act like he doesn’t even exist. how can you just ignore that?”

his eyes flash with something—anger, maybe, or guilt—but he doesn’t let it show. instead, he scoffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “you don’t know anything about it. about me, or him. so stop acting like you do.”

“then tell me,” you plead, your voice softer now, more desperate. “tell me why you’re so distant, why you shut everyone out. why you act like you don’t care.”

toji’s gaze hardens, and for a moment, you think he’s going to walk away, like he always does when things get too real. but instead, he steps closer, his presence looming over you. “i care about what i need to survive. that’s it. if you’re expecting more than that, you’re wasting your time.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut. you can feel your chest tighten, your breath catching in your throat. you’ve known from the start that toji isn’t the type to open up easily, but hearing him say it so bluntly, so coldly, feels like a slap in the face.

“so that’s it?” you ask quietly, blinking back the sting of tears. “everything else comes second, including me?”

toji doesn’t answer right away. instead, he looks at you, really looks at you for the first time since he walked in. there’s something in his eyes—something raw, something he’s trying to bury deep. but it’s fleeting, gone in an instant as he shrugs. “i’ve never promised you anything different.”

your heart sinks, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a heavy stone. you don’t know what you expected—maybe some kind of reassurance, some sign that he does care, that you mean something to him. but all you’re left with is this cold, hard truth.

“i can’t keep doing this,” you say softly, almost to yourself. “i can’t keep waiting around, hoping you’ll change. i deserve more than that.”

toji’s jaw clenches, and for a split second, you think you see a flicker of something—regret, maybe, or hesitation. but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. he doesn’t try to stop you as you turn away, walking towards the door, your chest heavy with the weight of your decision.

just as your hand reaches the doorknob, his voice breaks the silence. “you don’t need me. you’ll be fine.”

you pause, your heart aching at the sound of his voice, at the emptiness in his words. you want to turn around, to see if he’s really as detached as he sounds. but you don’t. instead, you nod, even though he can’t see it, and open the door.

“maybe it’s you who needs to realise that,” you whisper, stepping out into the cold night, leaving him behind.

[letsgetbigger]

OnlyFat

Nigel looked at himself in the mirror, as he did every morning, admiring his toned and sculpted body, the result of years of dieting and hard work at the gym. At 28 years old, he felt at the peak of his physical form. Firm muscles, broad shoulders, and a defined abdomen, along with his handsome face and sizable cock, had earned him a considerable number of followers on OnlyFans. While he wasn’t a millionaire, earning an average of about two thousand dollars a month allowed him certain luxuries and a pretty comfortable lifestyle. He enjoyed his routine. He filmed private videos, always eager to please, and responded to the strangest and most specific requests from his fans. No matter what they asked of him, he always found a way to enjoy it; perhaps due to his naturally submissive nature, something he had discovered long ago and now used to his advantage.

That Tuesday, as he checked the messages in his account, he came across a proposal that made him pause. It was from someone named Dom43, who had written to him several times before, though never with such a direct request. The message read:

“I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you gain ten pounds of fat in a month and send me a video of the results. No tricks. I want to see how you change. What do you say?”

Nigel raised an eyebrow and reread the offer over and over. It wasn’t the typical request he was used to. At first, it seemed strange, almost absurd. But the money—a thousand dollars!—was a considerable temptation. Plus, a part of him, the part that had always enjoyed obeying and submitting to others’ desires, felt a twinge of excitement at the idea. After a few minutes of thought, he shrugged and let himself go with his gut.

“I accept,” he wrote back.

He knew doing this would change something, though he wasn’t sure what. What he didn’t expect was just how much this would lead him down an unexpected path.

For Nigel, gaining ten pounds in a month didn’t seem like much of a challenge. And he knew that once he hit the goal and pocketed that thousand dollars, he could go back to his strict diet and regain his physique in a matter of weeks. It was just a simple detour, a small, temporary indulgence. Nothing serious. With that assurance, he decided to change his eating habits.

That same afternoon, he went to the grocery store, filling his cart with everything he normally avoided: frozen pizzas, pastries, salty snacks, and especially lots of tubs of ice cream, which he promised himself to devour every night. Salads were out of the picture for a few weeks. When he got home, the idea of indulging in unrestrained pleasure, of breaking the rules he had imposed on himself for years, turned him on. Even more so when he remembered he was doing it for Dom43, to fulfill his request.

That night, he sat on the couch in front of the TV, a pizza on one side and a tub of ice cream on the other, a smile on his face. At first, he ate because he was hungry, but soon that hunger turned into something darker, more intimate. He kept eating, even though he was no longer hungry. The mere thought of knowing he was stuffing himself, filling up to please someone, gave him a thrill he had never experienced before. When he finished, he lay back on the couch, gently stroking his slightly bloated stomach, feeling strangely satisfied.

***

Two weeks had passed, and Nigel had fully embraced his new routine of excess. He was eating as if it were a competition. The food filled him, but what really satisfied him was the idea of transforming his body at someone else’s request. He knew he was changing, that his body was reacting. And it was confirmed when he weighed himself: eight pounds gained. He was close to reaching his goal.

The next day, while working out, his personal trainer, Mark, noticed something different. Nigel was in the middle of doing crunches when Mark let out a mocking laugh.

“You’ve been slacking a bit, man,” he said, giving Nigel’s stomach a light tap. “You’ve put on some weight. And not just around the belly…” Mark added, motioning toward his backside.

Nigel laughed, trying to hide the heat rushing to his face. “Yeah, well, I’ve been indulging a little—nothing serious.”

Mark shook his head, but the comment stuck with Nigel. That teasing remark hit deep. It didn’t bother him, though. On the contrary, he liked it. For the rest of the workout, he couldn’t stop thinking about how his body was changing, about how much Dom43 would enjoy watching him soften up.

When he got home, he quickly stripped off his clothes and looked in the mirror. He touched his stomach, which was no longer as flat as it once was, and caressed the soft roundness beginning to form on his rear. Mark’s words echoed in his mind, and at that moment, Nigel couldn’t resist any longer. He collapsed onto his bed and jerked off, reaching the most intense climax of his life. What had started as a simple game to make some money had now completely consumed him.

The month had come to an end, and Nigel was ready. He carefully set up the camera, making sure the lighting was perfect, bright enough to highlight every change in his body, to show Dom43 the results of his effort. He stood in front of the mirror, took a deep breath, and began undressing slowly, recording the whole process. First, he removed his shirt, revealing his torso. His chest, once firm and defined, now had a slight sag to it. His belly, swollen and covered by a soft layer of fat, folded into rolls when he bent slightly. Then he pulled down his pants, leaving him in his tight white briefs, which now clung to him like never before. His thighs were noticeably thicker. But the real surprise came when he turned around. His ass, bigger and rounder, seemed to want to burst out of the tight fabric. The briefs could barely contain it. He gently touched his ass, feeling its fullness. Without missing a beat, he moved to the scale he had placed in front of the camera. He stepped on it carefully, watching the numbers climb rapidly. And there it was, the number that left him stunned: 191 pounds. He had gained fifteen pounds instead of the ten Dom43 had asked for. Five extra pounds, the result of his complete submission to food. Seeing the number, Nigel instantly got hard, unable to help himself.

“A hundred and ninety-one...” he muttered to himself.

Without thinking any further, he let the excitement take over. He jerked off in front of the camera, his breath ragged, and his moans filling the room. He did it for Dom43, but also for himself, for everything he had discovered about himself in the process.

Once finished, he sent the private video with a mix of anxiety and satisfaction, eagerly awaiting Dom43’s response. It didn’t take long to arrive: a payment confirmation accompanied by a comment that made Nigel shiver. “You’re a pathetic pig. You gained all this weight just because I told you to. I love it.” Nigel read aloud quietly. “I’ll give you ten thousand dollars more if you gain another twenty pounds in two months. Do you dare to become my fantasy?”

Nigel sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his still-naked, slightly sweaty body after the recording. His phone’s screen glowed with Dom43’s message: ten thousand dollars to gain another twenty pounds. The offer was tempting, too tempting. With that kind of money, he wouldn’t have to make more videos for months. He could take a break from his online life and focus on something else. Just the thought of that financial freedom made him feel relieved. But there was something more—a deep desire to please Dom43, to follow his orders, to submit to whatever he asked. It consumed him inside. He had discovered a new form of pleasure. Every pound he gained, every humiliating comment, ignited something within him that he had never felt before. Pleasing Dom43 had become almost an addiction. Yet, fear lingered in the background. He had already gained fifteen pounds, and although he initially thought he could lose it easily, he was starting to doubt whether the same would be true for thirty-five pounds. What if he couldn’t? What if continuing to gain weight destroyed the success of his OnlyFans account?

***

Nigel never imagined he would lose so much control. What started as a challenge, almost a game, had become a new reality. In just a month and a half of nonstop eating, he had gained the twenty-pounds Dom43 requested, pushing his body to limits he had never thought possible. Now weighing 211 pounds, the man he saw in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. His belly hung over the waistband, his thighs rubbed together with every step, and his once firm chest now bounced lightly with each movement. But the most shocking transformation of all was his ass, now enormous, two soft masses that jiggled with every step. And for some reason, that excited him more than it scared him.

When he arrived at the gym one afternoon, Mark greeted him with his usual mocking grin.

"Well, look who's here: my star client," Mark said sarcastically, his eyes scanning Nigel’s new body.

Throughout the workout, Mark made constant comments about his weight. Every time Nigel did a squat or lifted weights, he could feel Mark’s eyes on him, watching how his belly wobbled or how his ass strained against his shorts, which barely contained it anymore. But the most intense moment came after the workout when Nigel stepped out of the showers. As he was drying off, he noticed Mark watching him from across the locker room.

"Jesus, man..." Mark said, his eyes trailing over Nigel’s naked body. "You're huge. Like, seriously."

Before Nigel could respond, Mark stepped closer and gave him a smack on the ass. The sound echoed in the room, and Nigel’s butt cheeks rippled under Mark’s firm hand like jello. Nigel felt his face heat up, a mix of shame and arousal spreading over his skin.

"Damn," Mark laughed, "that moves like jello. What have you been eating, ice cream by the gallon? You’re getting obese, dude."

Nigel couldn’t answer, his throat dry, his mind stuck on the echo of Mark’s words. Obese. It was the first time anyone had called him that, and instead of being offended, the word hit him like a lightning bolt of pure desire. He tried to laugh, but the sound came out weak, almost choked.

He stood in front of the camera, taking deep breaths as he prepared for his second private session with Dom43. Like before, he undressed slowly, savoring each moment. He pulled off his shirt, revealing a torso that no longer had any trace of the firm muscles he once prided himself on. His chest was soft and round, visibly moving with each breath. His nipples had widened and felt unusually sensitive as he brushed his fingers over them. Then he slid off his pants, left in the same white briefs from the previous video. This time, they felt like a cruel joke. The edges dug into his hips and thighs, squeezing him in a way that was both uncomfortable and intensely arousing. His swollen belly hung slightly over the waistband, which seemed ready to give up the fight. Nigel turned to face the camera, letting it capture the most obvious change of all: his ass. It completely filled the briefs, making them look absurdly small. The fabric was stretched to its limit, with the tops of his cheeks spilling over, exposing the crack as if the briefs couldn’t possibly contain so much mass. He gave a slight shake, and his ass jiggled, continuing to bounce for a few seconds before settling. Seeing himself like that—so exposed, so impossibly large—sent a wave of arousal through him that nearly made him lose control right then and there. Nigel couldn’t help but smile. He knew Dom43 would love seeing what he had accomplished. The high point of the video came when he stepped onto the scale, carefully positioned in front of the camera. He showed the result: 211 pounds. Thirty-five pounds more than he weighed when this all began. He couldn’t help himself; the thrill of having transformed for someone else, of having fully surrendered to it, overwhelmed him. Once again, he masturbated in front of the camera, but this time, the orgasm was more intense, more liberating. His breath grew ragged, and every curve of his body shook with the force of his release.

When it was over, he sent the video to Dom43. The payment came through quickly, but what made Nigel’s heart race wasn’t the large sum of money. It was the words that followed.

“You’ve become my obedient pig. You’re good for nothing but getting fatter. You should be ashamed of how far you’ve fallen, but the worst part is, I know you love it.”

Nigel swallowed hard, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach. It was true. He loved every humiliating word, every cruel comment that made him feel smaller, more submissive, despite his growing size. But it was the last line of the message that left him frozen.

“I’ll give you twenty thousand dollars if you gain another thirty pounds.”

***

Nigel was nervous. It had been over two months since he last filmed a video for his regular OnlyFans subscribers, and now, with his body drastically transformed, he had no idea how they would react. He wanted to see if the weight gain had changed anything, if his fans were still interested in him despite the fact that he no longer had the muscular, chiseled physique that had attracted them in the first place. Deep down, he hoped it wouldn’t matter too much, that they would still desire him, and that he wouldn’t have to rely on Dom43 to stay financially stable. He set up the camera like always, but this time, he took a longer look at himself in the mirror. It was incredible how much his body had changed in just two months. His body felt heavy. Every movement made him more aware of his size.

"It's just a video," he whispered to himself, trying to calm his nerves. "I just want to see how they react."

He stood in front of the camera, shirtless, revealing his round, soft torso, wearing only a pair of black briefs that used to be loose on him. He did the usual gestures he used in his videos, showing his body from different angles, touching his chest and stomach, running his hands over the areas now covered in fat.

He uploaded the video.

The first responses came in quickly. As soon as he read the comments, his fears were confirmed. There was no acceptance, no admiration. Just criticism, mockery, and, above all, shock.

“What happened to you? You used to look incredible, but now you look like a different person,” wrote one of his longtime followers.

“You’re huge! And not in a good way. What kind of joke is this?” added another.

The comments kept coming, each one harsher than the last. They called him fat and disgusting. Some even felt betrayed by the change, as if Nigel had deliberately hidden what he’d been doing over the past few months. Others openly laughed at him, making fun of how his body had lost all definition. Nigel read every word, feeling a mix of humiliation and indescribable excitement. He had expected a negative reaction, but the brutal honesty of their attacks surpassed all his expectations. Far from feeling defeated, something dark and deep inside him awakened. Each insult, each criticism, made him feel more alive, more aware of his body and what he had achieved. The taunts about his physique didn’t discourage him; they aroused him in a way he couldn’t ignore. It was as if those words freed him. He didn’t want to go back. He wanted to push forward. He turned off his computer screen and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Dom43 had offered him twenty thousand dollars to gain another thirty pounds. Thirty pounds that would transform him even more, taking him to a new level of submission. He had thought about rejecting the offer, about going back to his former physique. But after reading his fans’ comments, after feeling the impact of their words on his body, there was no longer any doubt. With a smile on his face, Nigel decided he was going to accept the challenge. He was ready to fully give in, to see just how far he could go.

***

Nigel stopped going to the gym altogether. Every morning, he woke up to the same routine: eat, jerk off, and eat more. His appetite seemed endless, and his libido was out of control, higher than ever. The discipline he once had had crumbled, replaced by an obsession with giving in to food and the thrill of his own transformation. His clothes no longer fit. The jeans, tight shirts, and briefs that had once defined his muscular figure now wouldn't even make it past his thighs or tore when he tried putting them on. Soon, he realized the only piece of clothing that still fit him was an old tracksuit, and even that didn’t fit well—it was so tight that the fabric stretched ridiculously, and his belly stuck out. He only wore it when he went out to buy more food, but at home, he spent his days completely naked.

In three months, Nigel had gained another thirty-five pounds, surpassing even Dom43’s challenge. His body was unrecognizable, and the scale didn’t lie. He weighed 246 pounds, a number he’d never imagined reaching. His thighs were so thick they had changed the way he walked. His belly was soft, round, and hung over. His arms, once firm, were now wrapped in fat. And his chest, completely soft, jiggled with even the slightest movement. He knew it was time to film the video for Dom43. He prepared in the simplest and most provocative way possible: completely naked, with a box of donuts by his side and the scale ready to show the result. The camera started rolling, and Nigel let himself get caught up in the moment. He grabbed one of the donuts and bit into it slowly, letting the sugar slide down his lips as he chewed exaggeratedly. He knew Dom43 would love to see him like this, enjoying the food that had turned him into what he was now.

“I’ve surpassed your challenge,” Nigel said, his voice thick with pleasure as he bit into another donut. “Another thirty-five pounds. I hope you’re happy.”

He stood up with difficulty, his ass visibly bouncing as he walked toward the scale. He stepped onto it with some effort, and it stopped at 246 pounds. Nigel showed the number to the camera with a satisfied grin on his face.

“246 pounds,” he said with pride in his voice. “But that’s not all.”

He grabbed a measuring tape and started measuring his body. First, he wrapped it around his waist.

“Fifty inches,” he announced, staring at his belly.

Then he measured his ass, which had turned into a massive ball of fat, and the number was just as shocking.

“Fifty-three inches. I can’t even fit in my office chair.”

Nigel paused for a moment, looking at the camera with a euphoric expression.

“All of this... is for you, Dom43. I hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

He ended the video with one last bite, chewing slowly as he jiggled his whole body while masturbating. When he finished, he turned off the camera and collapsed onto the couch, panting from exhaustion. He sent the video to Dom43 and waited, knowing the response wouldn’t take long. When it came, it was exactly what he expected.

“You’ve exceeded my expectations, pig. I never imagined you’d reach this point, that you’d become such a mountain of fat for me. Look at yourself, you’re pathetic, completely out of control. And you know what? I love it. You’ve done everything I asked and more. You’re the perfect submissive fat boy. You’re good for nothing but eating, getting fatter, and letting others laugh at you. But I must also say, I’m proud of you. You’ve proven you’re completely mine, willing to transform yourself this way just to please me. You’re incredible, in the worst way possible, of course, but that’s exactly where your greatness lies.”

Nigel stared at the screen, absorbed in the words. He had done everything Dom43 had wanted. And yet, he felt he could go further. The idea of gaining even more weight, of leaving behind any trace of his former self, called to him with unstoppable force. Without thinking too much, he typed the question that had been on his mind for days, a question that made him tremble with anticipation:

“How much will you pay me if I reach 300 pounds?”

The silence that followed for a few seconds was deafening, but Dom43’s response came quickly.

“I’m not paying you anything. This time, you won’t do it for the money. I want you to do it for me, because you can’t stop yourself now. I want you to gain until you reach 300 pounds just to please me, because now you know that’s the only thing that turns you on. You’ll do it because you belong to me.”

Nigel took a deep breath, feeling each word of that message wrap around him, filling him with a mix of submission and absolute pleasure. He knew Dom43 was right. It was no longer about the money. It was about something much bigger. What had started as a simple desire to fulfill a fantasy had become his reality. With trembling fingers, he typed the only thing he knew he could say at that moment, the only thing his mind and cock screamed for with overwhelming clarity:

“I’ll do it.”

[purifiedclitoris69]

Flowers

a/n: j a blurb in addition to spiders dance, enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff x reader

You and Natasha have practically been inseparable, since your mission, and extra exercise on the jet ;) The two of you have never been closer, you two did declare that you were each others, you were her’s and she was your’s, making you officially in a relationship. However, here you were as nervous as ever you paced outside Natasha's door, clutching a small bouquet of flowers.

Yourr palms were sweaty, and your heart was racing faster than it had during any mission. After fighting off assassins and taking down criminal organizations, asking Natasha Romanoff out on a date was somehow the scariest thing you’d ever faced.

"Okay, you’ve got this," you muttered to yourself. "It’s just Natasha. It’s just… the deadliest woman alive. Who could kill me with a paperclip, who so happens to be the most stunning woman there is as well..” you began to ramble.

With a deep breath, you raised your hand to knock on the door, your knuckles almost trembling, just about to move. When it opened, suddenly, Natasha stood there, dressed in her loose shorts you could barely see under a sweatshirt, that was yours? You melted at the sight of her; Her eyes flicked to the flowers, then back to you with an amused quirk of her brow.

"You okay?" Natasha asked, a hint of a smile playing at her lips.

You swallowed hard, your voice coming out shakier than expected. "Uh, yeah! I mean, no. Well, yes. I mean—these are for you!" You thrust the flowers toward her a little too quickly, almost hitting her with them.

Natasha’s smile widened as she took the flowers. "Thank you. They're beautiful.” The smirk never leaving her face at how nervous she still made you.

Not as beautiful as you, you thought to yourself blushing. You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. "Yeah, well, I-I thought you might like them. Not that you need flowers to be more... you know... awesome. You’re already that. Just, uh, wanted to give you something nice."

"detka breathe," Natasha said, leaning against the doorframe, her eyes scanning you with that unnervingly sharp gaze, that held that beautiful sparkle. "What’s going on?"

"Right, yeah, so, uh—" You cleared your throat, trying to will yourself to speak without sounding like an idiot. "I was wondering if, maybe, you'd like to go out sometime? Like, on a date, officially. With me."

Natasha's eyes flicked up from the flowers to your nervous face, and for a moment, you thought you’d she laugh and blow you off. But then, to your relief Natasha grinned that—genuine, kind, soft smile.

"You’re cute when you're nervous, you know that?" she said, stepping closer, and placing a hand on your chest.

Your face turned bright red. "What! I’m not-,” she quirked her eyebrow once more, “okay maybe a little.”

Natasha laughed lightly, looking back down at the flowers, a blush of her own appearing "I’d love to go out with you,” she stood on her tippy toes hand going to the back of your neck and gave you a slow loving kiss, “and I love how nervous I still make you,” she whispered against your lips. You blinked, dumbfounded. Natasha gave you a playful smirk falling back to her flat feet. “next time, relax a little. I don’t bite.…unless you want me too."

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, a relieved loving grin grew on your face. "Great! I mean, that’s great! Uh, so… dinner tomorrow?"

"Dinner tomorrow," Natasha confirmed, leaning in to kiss you quickly on the cheek. "And thank you for the flowers. They’re lovely."

“Of course,” you blushed once more handing going to the back of your neck again

“Are you heading somewhere, or you gonna come inside,” she asked opening the door wider for you

“Wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else,” your smile grew wider if that was even possible. Following her into her room, shutting the door, and locking it behind you ;)

[pandapetals]

New Dress

logan howlett x afab!reader - fluff, inspired by clairo's song juna, new dress, suggestive, cute

Your put on a new dress and Logan loves it.

read on Ao3

“C’mere.” Logan’s voice was low, a playful command threaded through the syllables, as he lounged against the doorframe, arms crossed. His eyes flickered over you, taking in the dress with a heat that made it hard to ignore him.

But you did.

You shook your head, biting your lip as you twisted in front of the mirror, fingers smoothing the fabric down your sides, trying to catch every angle. “Wait,” you murmured, barely glancing his way. “I just need to see if it—”

Logan pushed off the doorframe with an easy stride, his boots barely making a sound against the floor. In a few steps, he was behind you, his large frame almost swallowing your reflection. He didn’t touch you—yet. He just stood there, the weight of his presence filling the room.

“It looks good,” he said, his voice softer now, a quiet certainty in the way the words fell between you.

You let out a small huff, rolling your eyes but still turning slightly, trying to get a better view of your back in the mirror. “You say that about everything , Logan.”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Because you look good in everything.” His eyes met yours in the reflection, the intensity of his gaze sending a flicker of warmth down your spine.

You hesitated, your hands dropping to your sides. “Be serious,” you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice betraying the casual banter. “What if it doesn’t—”

Logan’s hands finally moved, his fingers brushing your waist lightly, almost testing the waters. You stiffened at first, but then his grip firmed, pulling you gently back against him. His body was warm and solid, the contrast between his steady confidence and your anxious self-assessment making your heart race.

“I am being serious,” he murmured near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. His hands slid to your hips, guiding you so you stood still, forcing you to stop twisting and turning. “Look at yourself.”

“I am—”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice now a little more firm. “Not like that.”

He shifted slightly, lowering his head so his lips hovered just above your ear, his breath sending a shiver through you. “You always do this. You look at yourself like you’re trying to find something wrong.”

You swallowed, your pulse quickening as his words sank in. In the mirror, his eyes stayed on yours, unflinching, steady.

“But there’s nothing wrong,” he continued, his fingers tracing small, soothing circles on your hips. “Not with this dress. Not with you.”

For a second, you couldn’t look at him. Your gaze dropped, focusing on the way his fingers moved against the fabric, the way his chest felt pressed against your back. It was grounding, the way he held you as if he could sense the flutter of doubt still lingering beneath your skin.

“You don’t have to hide anything from me,” Logan said quietly, his voice softer now, the teasing long gone. “You know that, right?”

You nodded, the words sticking in your throat. His sincerity hit harder than you’d expected like it peeled back layers you hadn’t realized you were wearing along with the dress.

“Good.” His lips brushed the top of your head, a brief, gentle touch that left warmth in its wake. “Now let me see this dress properly.”

He shifted you slightly, making you face the mirror again. But this time, his hands didn’t leave you. He stayed close, his fingers at your waist, his eyes still on your reflection.

You looked at yourself again, but this time through his gaze—at the way the dress hugged your body, the fabric flowing over your curves as if it belonged there. And in the mirror, you saw more than just yourself. You saw the way his expression softened when he looked at you, the quiet admiration in his eyes, the way his lips parted slightly as if even now, he was holding back something deeper.

“It’s not just the dress, you know,” he said after a beat, his voice thick with meaning. “It’s you. You make it look good.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The room seemed smaller, quieter, as if the air between you had shifted, the playfulness melting into something heavier, more unspoken.

You exhaled the tension that had been knotting in your chest slowly unraveling under his touch. “You really think so?” you asked, still tentative, but there was a warmth creeping into your voice that hadn’t been there before.

Logan’s smirk returned, this time slower, more deliberate. “I know so.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder, his lips warm and soft against your skin. “Now, c’mere for real,” he murmured against your skin, his hands sliding around your waist to pull you fully into him, his grip more sure, more insistent.

This time, you didn’t resist.

[m1njeongluvr]

best prom night ever!!

- Alittle angst 😓 mostly fluff tho

A/n : Really bad pls i hate it sm 💔 the first and last time i ever write because i have 0 experience with writing so bear with me now 😭

Pairing: Winter (Aespa) x fem!Y/N

Warning: really cringe

Requested: @pandoraha

It was a school day. You were just casually walking with your friends Yuna and Chaewon. They were talking about some nonsense. Clothes and fashion or whatever you truly didn't pay attention. All that was on your mind was your girlfriend Minjeong.

She didn't show up to school these past few days and ignored your texts so as anyone would do you were worried about her. You stopped zoning out when someone pushed you slightly with their elbow. It was Yuna. "Y/N! Did you hear anything i said?" You were confused. You didn't pay attention at all. "Sorry what did we talk about?" Yuna sighed. "Do you have any plans for prom? Anyone to go with?" Right. Prom was coming up. Chaewon was going with Yunjin and Yuna was going with Chaeryeong and you.. well you had nobody to go with because Minjeong was ignoring you.

"Not really.." you muttered. "Why don't you ask Soobin? He showed alot of interest in you and asked you multiple times" Chaewon looked at Soobin across the hall talking with some randoms. "Sorry Chae i am.. not really interested." They didn't know you were going out with Minjeong.

The bell rings and you wave to your friends then go to your last class for today. It wasn't that interesting to be honest you just learned about some topics that you truly didn't care about. The class soon ends and you step out of the classroom. The sun cuts thru the hallways, slightly blinding your vision. You just can't shake off the feeling that there is something wrong with Minjeong. It's not like she can just dissapear without a word given the fact that you guys talk everyday.

As you walk home your phone buzzes. You take it out of your pocket and open the notification. Kinda expecting your loved girlfriend to respond to your messages. You sigh when you find out that it was just your friends talking about the prom theme.

You open the door to your apartmant and toss your bag somewhere else. You grab a snack and sit on your bed. It became a slight routine for you.

You turn on the tv to distract yourself but you just can't stop thinking about your girlfriend. Why won't she answer? Why wasn't she in school? You grab your phone and write a text to minjeong. "Hey mj. Just wanted to check up on you. What happened? Where are you? Why weren't you at school?" You sigh when you see another message being left on delievered. You toss your phone next to you and cover your face with your hands. A thought came into your mind. What if you ask her to meet up? Minjeong really likes going out especially with you so it wouldn't hurt to try. "Would you like to meet up? We can go to the park and just talk about things.." you hit send and go to bed.

The next day slowly rolls in and the minutes pass by like hours. The last bell rings and you run to your car. You get to the car and go to your favorite place to be with your favorite person. You scan around to see if her familiar figure has appeared. You spot her at a bench and sit next to her.

"Hey.." you say softly. "Hey," she replies quietly, almost like a whisper, "how have you been?" she continues. "Good i guess. What about you?" You question, looking at her hands that were playing with the strings of her hoodie. "Just... family and stuff" you nod. "You know that we are dating right? You can tell me anything that comes to your mind.. I may not have the best advice but i am willing to listen."

She looks at you and smiles. "Thank you.. I haven’t been handling things well. There’s this pressure to keep up with grades and everyone expects so much from me... But I don’t even know what I want for myself.. It's really hard you know.?"

You feel a pang in your chest. “You don’t have to have everything figured out right now. It’s okay to take your time.” Minjeong chuckles softly, but it’s tinged with sadness. “I guess it’s hard to remember that when everyone else seems so certain. And then there’s you…” She pauses, a hint of a smile breaking through the heaviness. “You seem to have everything under control. I didn’t want to drag you down with my problems.”

“Minjeong…” you begin, but she holds up a hand, stopping you.

“It’s just… I didn’t want you to see me like this. I felt so alone.” Her voice cracks, and you feel your heart ache even more. “I didn’t even answer your texts because I thought you’d get tired of me. I didn’t want to make you worry. You mean alot to me so i want you to be happy."

You scoot closer, placing a hand gently on her back. "You could never be a burden to me. I care about you too much for that." The sincerity in your voice seems to resonate, and you watch her expression soften.

"Honestly, it felt nice to be missed," she admits, her voice suddenly steadier. "I thought maybe you'd forget about me if I disappeared for a while."

"Forget about you?" You laugh lightly, trying to cut through the tension. "That's impossible. You mean too much to me."

A small smile breaks through her worry-the first genuine expression you've seen from her in days. "Really?"

"Really," you confirm, your voice earnest. "You're not just my girlfriend; you're my best friend. And I want to support you through whatever you're going through."

The light of the setting sun casts a warm glow, bathing you both in a soft embrace. If you could bottle this moment, you'd keep it forever. It feels like the weight of the world is beginning to lift, and with it, a renewed sense of hope.

As you sit in comfortable silence you decide to get alittle bold. You kiss her softly on the lips. Minjeong seemed suprised but kissed back. "Gosh i missed you." Minjeong laughes at your comment and pats your head. "I missed you too my love."

You hug it out and get up. "One last thing before we leave.." Minjeong looks at you "what is it?" You take a slight deep breath and say "Well would you like to go to prom with me? You know.. to get your mind off of things? It will be our chance to just enjoy ourselves... no pressure just us being together."

Minjeong slightly chuckles and smiles at you. "Yes of course i would love to go to prom with you. I could really use some fun now." You smile happily and hug her again. "It's a date then! I will make it the best prom you have ever been to!" You claim. Minjeong just smiles at you, falling inlove with you even harder than before.

You pay your goodbyes and walk home. It's gonna be an amazing week after all.

[paulyenvol6]

Byka Atroksia (Chapter 6)

Contains: detailed smut, oral (f & m receiving), unprotected sex, incest, body image issues, choking, gagging, praising, a little degrading, dom Daemon, sub reader, angst

Wordcount: ~3.37k

Masterlist of this story

He didn’t waste another second and kissed you aggressively. You both moaned against each other’s mouths and his hands ran over your body, searching for every inch of skin you offered him. In the meantime he pushed you to the table and blindly pushed a chair aside so that you could take a seat on the table.

His hands wrapped around your body and fumbled at the cording of your dress in your back to get the annoying fabric out of the way while your shaking hands tried to get his shirt off. Daemon’s hands were quick, demanding and unhesitatingly. In a matter of seconds he had pulled your dress down and you got up from the table so he could take it off completely. He threw it on the floor next to you without caring about where it landed and then took his tunica off.

You felt the need to touch his strong chest and ran your hands over his skin. Daemon closed his eyes at the feeling of your warmth while kissing and touching your chest. His fingers toyed with your nipple while his mouth took care of the other and you knew that this was what heaven must feel like. Then Daemon’s mouth quickly traveled up your body again until it was pressed against your jaw.

"Get down on your knees.", he growled. Even though you weren’t sure what exactly your uncle wanted you to do you obeyed him and stood up from the table. He guided you down and your knees hit the hard ground. You could see him watch you while he quickly tucked down his trousers and then there was his cock that stood hardened against his stomach. You looked up to him and Daemon wrapped his hand around his cock.

"Open your mouth, riña (girl).", he whispered and you parted your lips. You had your eyes on him while he slowly shoved his cock into your mouth. You hadn’t expected it to feel so soft and you could feel its weight on your tongue. You closed your lips around him and tried to breathe through your nose because right now there wasn’t a lot of air entering your lungs through your mouth. Daemon had inhaled  sharply and his hand was buried in your hair.

"Seven hells.", he growled and then pulled at your hair to signal you to move your head. You tried pulling off his cock and then letting him slide in again and by the sounds Daemon made he seemed to like it. Then, when you felt a little bolder your tongue played with his tip and you felt his grip on your hair tighten.

"Fuck. Oh my little owl. Doing so fucking good for me." You slightly grinned with his cock in your mouth and felt motivated to move faster. You bobbed your head on his cock and held on to his thigh to have some support. Your knees hurt incredibly on the stone ground but you didn’t care. Your only care right now was to please Daemon and it seemed like you were doing quite well.

"Ah.", he growled and his other hand that wasn’t in your hair gripped the edge of the table. "Oh fuck. What a good… fucking girl… you are."

You had lowered your gaze now and looked at his muscular stomach but Daemon pulled at your hair. "Look at me, Vhaela. Come on, I want to see your pretty face."

You forced yourself to look up to him even though it was hard for you with his cock in your mouth but you wanted to do as he said. Seeing you in front of him on your knees with your eyes interlocked with his‘ could almost make him come immediately. He moved his hips along with the movement of your head and thrusted into your mouth and with every push Daemon could feel himself moving closer to the edge.

"Huh.", he made. "Oh gods be fucking good.", he growled. You could feel him hit the back of your throat and struggled to fight your gagging reflex. He was so deep inside your mouth that tears welled up in your eyes and you had to force yourself to breathe. Out of reflex you tried to move away from him.

"Ah ah.", he whispered and held you tightly. "Don't fight me, little owl." His hand in your hair pushed you deeper on his cock and as much as it triggered your retching and it hurt, you liked it. You liked the feeling of his cock buried inside your mouth and the sounds you heard Daemon make, made you press your thighs together.

Then after one last twirl around his tip with your tongue he let out a deep moan and you felt him shoot his seed down your throat. You gagged and it was your reflex to move away from him but his grip on your head didn’t allow you to. You swallowed every drop of his seed and to your surprise it didn’t taste bad. Now you had closed your eyes but Daemon was too caught up in his pleasure to intstruct you not to and you could hear his heavy breathing.

Having found a liking in his taste you licked every ounce of his seed off his cock and then when you were done you looked up to your uncle again who watched you with a wide smirk. "Who would have thought that such an innocent, pure, little girl would turn out to be such a whore in the bedchambers.", he said, still slightly out of breath.

You blushed and droped your gaze while letting his cock slide out of your mouth. Daemon instantly grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you up to your feet. He took hold of your chin, got close to your face and lifted his eyebrows.

"I remember telling you I want you to look at me and not the fucking ground.", he whispered slowly and even though he didn’t sound angry (but rather… playful?), you gulped. "I’m sorry."

Daemon let go of your hair and caressed the side of your face with his right hand while moving you towards the table. His forehead almost touched yours and then your back hit the edge of the table.

"My little Vhaela…", he whispered. "There’s so much I want to do to you." You once again pressed your legs together at his words and Daemon noticed and smirked.

"Poor girl. Are you craving a release, my love?" You smiled softly. He had never called you his love before and it made your insides flutter.

"Yes.", you answered him and then he suddenly pushed you onto the table and kneeled down in front of you. Daemon roughly opened your legs and looked at your cunt with darkened eyes. He sighed deeply with a smirk on his face and then buried his face inside your cunt. His tongue licked a long stripe through the wetness from your hole up to your pearl. He quietly moaned at your taste and moved your legs to lay on his shoulder so he could tightly hold on to your hips. His tongue toyed with your little nub and spread your wetness all over it.

It felt so good you wanted to scream. His warm tongue lapping against you. He was so quick, intense... simply skilled. Your breath was fastened and you buried your hands in his head so he wasn’t able to stop. As if he would now. Buried between your thighs, tasting your sweet nectar and those noises leaving your mouth. What else could a man want?

Daemon liked to be in control when it came to sex and he liked to be master of the situation. But right now as he was devouring your cunt he knew that he had lost control. There wasn’t anything on his mind anymore except the taste, smell and sight of your bare cunt and he didn’t care about teasing or messing with you anymore. He didn't care about edging or torturing you, he simply had to feel you everywhere.

Daemon then used his thumb to get the little hood that covered your pearl out of the way so there was nothing protecting it from his tongue. You whimpered loudly and threw your head back. "Daemon. Daemon, please."

"Yes.", he whispered. "Let me hear you, riña (girl)."

At some point you didn’t have the power to hold yourself up on the table so you laid down on your back. You could see stars while looking at the ceiling and restlessly moved your hips. You didn’t even know what for. Daemon was glued to your cunt and it wasn’t possible to get any closer to you. But you just couldn’t stay still so your uncle slapped the side of your ass.

"Stop moving around. I have no problems leaving you here lustful and unsatisfied if you can’t obey me." Of course Daemon lied. He indeed would have a problem leaving you now but his darkened eyes looking at you from between your thighs looked stern so you tried to stop. Him leaving you here now would be the worst thing you could think of at this moment and you tightly held on to his hair.

"I’m sorry. I’ll stop.", you whined and Daemon went back to work. His tongue truly was magical and now instead of moving your hips you threw your head from one side to the other while nibbing at your finger. You could taste blood after a while but didn’t care. You just needed to do something, hold on to something, get any kind of friction.

"Daemon.", you repeatedly whimpered not knowing what you wanted him to do besides never stopping licking your cunt. Soon after that you felt closer and closer to your high. The newly discovered knot in your stomach tightened and your uncle could sense the tension in your body as well. He fastened his pace, flicked your little nub and circled it quickly until you felt the knot explode and you were drowned in pleasure.

You let out a little shriek and Daemon reached out to cover your mouth with his hands. There probably weren’t a lot of people walking around in the Keep at that hour but Daemon knew how anxious you were about someone finding out about the two of you and so did it to protect you.

The pleasure you received made you breathe heavily against his palm and you could feel him lick every drop of your juices. Then, when Daemon sensed that your high had faded he put his hand off your mouth, swallowed the last droplet that glistened on your cunt and stood up to watch you.

You had your eyes closed and your hands were pressed against your forehead, right on your hairline. Sweat was covering your face and your cheeks were reddened from your ecstasy. He had never seen a creature looking more delightful and couldn’t hide a smirk. Of course he would’ve loved to edge you tonight. Shortly before you had been about to reach your high it would’ve been amusing to stop and bring you so close to the edge over and over again without letting you pass it. It would’ve been cruel, yes, but also an enjoyment for Daemon to watch. And yet he hadn’t done it as he was simply too eager to taste your high and eventually bury his cock deep in your warm hole. So he had decided to leave it for another night and brought you to your release.

Now he didn’t waste any time, stepped between your legs and ran the tip of his cock over your puffy and wet cunt. You’re half closed eyes opened wider again when you felt him against you and you shifted when he hit your overstimulated pearl.

"Please.", you whined. "What?", Daemon asked, sounding a little contemptous. "What do you want?"

He pulled you closer to the edge of the table on which you were still lying with your bare back touching the cold stone surface. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him and crossed them behind his back thighs.

"Need to feel full.", you mumbled. With his left hand Daemon held you at your waist and his thumb stroke your soft skin. In the meantime his right guided his cock right to your throbbing hole that was so eager to be filled again.

And then, without a warning, Daemon pushed into you and you simultaneously moaned at the feeling. You felt a sharp pain in your core, like you did when you had first laid with him but this time it vanished as quickly as it had come. You thought that it felt even better than three nights ago because now after only few thrusts there wasn’t any kind of discomfort and you only felt full and content. Daemon filled you so well and hit that deep spot inside of you with almost every thrust. You both sighed and moaned loudly and he held you at your hips to meet his movements.

Then he leaned down to you and kissed you hungrily. Your hands found his hair again and you powerlessly tucked at his strands while Daemon’s hands caressed your cheek and neck and petted your burning skin. The kiss was sloppy and messy but exactly what the two of you needed at this moment.

Then his right hand moved to your neck and he wrapped it around it. You were surprised and panicked a little but Daemon soothingly kissed the corner of your mouth.

"Shhh…", he whispered while still moving deep inside of you. His grip around your throat became a little tighter and now you grabbed his hand that choked you. You pulled at it in an attempt to make him let go but Daemon didn’t and when you wanted to speak up, only a croak left your mouth.

"It’s alright, little owl. Relax.", he made but at first you desperately shifted underneath him. But yet you trusted him and so after a few seconds you did as he told you. You stopped fighting him and let go of his hand around your neck. You realised that Daemon’s grip wasn’t so tight that you would suffocate. He still let some air entering you but you continued to feel a little odd and were happy when his grip loosened after a few moments.

You inhaled deeply and enjoyed the fresh air filling your lungs. Daemon’s movements inside of you hadn’t stopped and now he kissed you right next to your ear.

"You have to relax when I do this.", he whispered and you moaned at a particulary sharp thrust deep inside you. "It’s more uncomfortable if you fight me. Just relax…and do as I tell you.", he whispered softly and you slightly nodded.

Your eyes were fluttering and you felt that it wouldn’t take you long until you would reach another high. His hand reached between your bodies and his thumb connected with your little pearl which made you struggle to keep your eyes open and you quietly cried out every time your uncle hit that spot inside you.

He could feel you clench around his cock which drove him closer to the edge as well. Then, with one last deep thrust inside of you and his tight circles around your nub, you let go and pleasure washed over you. You arched on the table and your eyes rolled back and at the same time Daemon reached his high with a groan.

"Oh fuck.", he moaned and collapsed on top of you. You felt his seed filling your cunt to the brim and now you didn’t even have the power to hold your legs wrapped around his back anymore so they fell to the ground. Daemon rested himself with one arm on either side of your face and had his face buried in your neck. You heard him pant loudly and his hair tickled your skin.

Then after a while you both had regained some of your strength and Daemon straightened up. He watched your fucked out body and smirked when he saw his seed leaking out of your hole and running down your leg. He slapped the side of your ass and then got himself dressed. "I think what you need now is taking a bath, little owl."

You got up as well and saw the room very fuzzily through your eyes. You gave yourself a moment until the flickering had vanished and then picked up your dress from the ground.

"Have you seen my badge with the sigil? It must’ve loosened from my shirt…" Daemon’s eyes searched the ground until he let out an "Ah.", and picked it up. His gaze wandered to you and he noticed that you hadn’t said a word in a while so he walked towards you and caressed your cheek.

"Everything fine?", he whispered with lifted eyebrows. You nodded but tears were swimming in your eyes which your uncle obviously noticed.

"Vhaela. What is it?" Yes, what was it? You looked down on your body and couldn't help but feel a lump in your throat. Because once again, there was this insecurity, this hate and disgust you felt about your own body. You didn't think you were beautiful and what a man wanted in a woman. Why did Daemon want you? Did he pity you? Or was he playing with you and wanted to make fun of you? Or, and you hadn't even thought about that yet, he wanted to provoke your father?

You looked to your hands and your voice sounded very quiet and thin. "I don't know why you desire to be with me." Daemon scoffed and came closer to you. "My little owl."

"No, I-I… I look like a boy and t-there's nothing feminine about me." Your uncle lifted your chin and his eyes looked determined so you would believe his next words.

"I thought I just made pretty clear that I want you, little one.", he whispered. "I can only speak for myself but I think you're rather pretty. Very much so. You are feminine and if you looked like a boy I wouldn't have just fucked you."

You chewed on your lower lip but still didn't look entirely convinced so Daemon sighed deeply.

"What do I have to say, mhm?" Your eyes wanted to escape his',  but he wouldn't let you. "Look at me, Vhaela.", he snapped. "I desire to lay with you. I desire to feel your good fucking mouth around my cock."

Daemon's eyes flashed and you exhaled deeply but then nodded. You still wouldn't say that he convinced you and had been able to make all your insecurities vanish with a few words but you felt a little lighter. The two of you had fucked twice now, why would he do it a second time if he didn't actually want to?

Your uncle raised his eyebrows. "Do you understand me?" You nodded and tried to lighten up a little. Well, there was also still this remaining little weight in your stomach that made you gulp but you couldn’t do anything about it. It was the guilt you felt from coupling with your uncle a second time, but at least you felt less bad than last time.

"I’m gonna bring you to your chambers, alright?" Daemon watched you intensely and his thumb ran over the area under your eye. You nodded again and let your uncle lace up your dress in your back.

Then the two of you walked to the door. Daemon opened it a crack, quickly peeked to see if someone was outside and then you stepped in the dark corridor. You were both silent as he led you upstairs to your chambers. There were guards now standing by the doors but you weren’t doing anything wrong walking around with your uncle so you didn’t care that they saw you. In case someone would find it suspicious you would simply have to come up with another explanation.

Then you stood in front of your door and Daemon opened and held it for you. You quickly slipped through it and he smirked at you.

"Sleep well, byka atroksia (little owl)."

[f1-unpopularopinions]

Okay this is a rant

Fans project onto the drivers waaaaaay too much. They push their own emotions, personalities, and points of view on whichever driver is their favorite and try to force everything they say and do to fit that. It’s why there is so much Lando and Oscar hate right now. The fans are desperate for those two to be what they want them to be, usually soft uwu boys. And the minute they deviated away from it, especially Lando, everyone labeled them as evil or arrogant. I’m not even a Lando or Oscar fan and I can see that.

Famously all drivers are extremely competitive, willing to do whatever it takes, think theyre the best, and are assholes on the track. You can’t be in f1 without those traits. But so many fans refuse to admit that and the minute it becomes clear that this is the truth and not whatever fantasy they created, they freak. It’s beyond ridiculous. You should not be a fan of f1 if you can’t handle this. Cause yes, the drivers will say rude things, they will be arrogant about their skills, they will be bitchy about team orders, they will get pissy when they lose, they will usually not get along with their teammate, they will snipe at each other in the press, they will push too hard and hit each other on track and then claim it wasn’t their fault. That’s what happens. That’s fucking f1.

I’ve watched this sport get slowly santitized as the years go on, as new fans come in and decide the things they don’t like must be changed. It’s ridiculous. So now all teammates have to be best friends. So now team orders are evil. So now a driver being upset they didn’t win in ungrateful. So now a team is heartless for cutting an underperforming driver loose. So now all the drivers must be perfectly behaved little princes who are always happy, and grateful, and kind. I cannot imagine how frustrating and demeaning that is for them. I would rip out my own hair if people treated me like that. But no, if a driver expressed frustration with this I can almost guarantee fans would call them spoiled or ungrateful.

And on top of that all they have to contain, you have cameras shoved in their faces wherever they go. Any video you find of a driver, and their are at least five cameras not even a foot away from them. And people scream in their face, and grab them, and expect them to give them time because theyre a fan. Every movement is scrutinized, their facial expression and body language are over analyzed, people make assumptions about their relationships and lives, and they can’t say boo about it. It’s been like this to a smaller extent for years of course but it’s just exploded since honestly DTS. If I had 30 people shoving merch at me screaming my name, I signed it, and then some asshole on the internet made a whole video about how I wasn’t pleasant enough when I was getting mobbed and treated like a commodity I would explode.

I guess to finish off this super long take, I just want to say that f1 drivers will never be what you want them to be. So either fix your expectations and let them be human or stop fucking watching.

Send us your unpopular F1 opinions!

[penkura]

Special [2/2]

Note: Second part from this request here! Sorry it took so long, I've been burnt out and just struggling to get things out lately. I'll have an update post later today, I think.

Sanji really does feel awful when he realizes what’s going on with you, why you walked away and said you wouldn’t bother anymore. He hates how he’s made you feel, without even realizing it, but he never expected you would actually like him back. He’d resigned himself to the fact that, in his mind, you didn’t have any feelings for him nor would you ever. He’s used to it but for some reason it hit harder when he thought it was you that would reject him.

So he never said anything. He treated you normally, as normally as he could when he thought you were so perfect, but it seems like he's made a mistake. He’s made you think there’s something wrong with the way you look, when it couldn’t be farther from the truth. Nami has heard it so much from him she’s started rolling her eyes while Sanji nearly cries to her about how much he adores you.

No, how much he loves you. He’s not told anyone else, only Nami, making her concern3d the moment she notices you avoiding and ignoring him. Once she gets Sanji to tell her what happened, she’s so close to smacking him upside the head for being so stupid.

“Of course she’s upset, you’re an idiot!”

Nami spends the better part of her afternoon berating Sanji, who cant even argue with her and just nods in agreement to everything she says. She stops him before he can even ask for ideas on what to do so he can make it up to you.

“No, you’re doing that yourself this time.”

It takes him most of the day to decide what he could do, what he could say, so it surprises you when he finally shows up after dinner that evening. He’s not looking you in the eyes, but he has your favorite flowers with him, it makes your heart ache a bit, believing he’s done this to every girl he’s ever upset in the past so you don’t move to take the flowers. You’re trying to stop your feelings, he's making it so hard though.

“Sanji—”

“[Y/N], I’m so sorry I made you feel like you aren’t special to me. I…it’s no excuse, but I didn’t think you’d ever have feelings for me like I do for you so I was trying to distract myself from you,” it starts to make sense, but you still don’t move, you’re not entirely sure you can trust him, “If you never forgive me I deserve it, but…can you give me a second chance? No, that’s not right…let me have the chance to make it up to you, and prove you’re so much more than to me than you think you are.”

You’re both quiet for a few moments, Sanji believes you’re completely done with him while you think it through.

A conflict between crewmates over something is always a possibility, but when it’s due to romantic feelings it feels weirdly worse to you. It feels like you’re letting it take over everything, but you’ve had these feelings for so long that you aren’t sure they’ll ever go away, even if you are trying to stop it. You still want to be his friend if nothing else, though it almost seems like he may want something more.

That’s something to discuss later.

Sanji starts to feel like things will get better when you reach out and take the flowers, not looking at him even when he looks up at you.

“…you can make my favorite dessert to start…and explain yourself better.”

The grin on his face makes you smile just a little bit in return, as Sanji nods and takes your hand to bring you to the kitchen.

“I’ll start right away while you put those in water! I’ll make you whatever drink you want too!”

“That sounds nice, Sanji…”

Before you get too much farther, Sanji stops and pulls you into a hug that you return.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t special to me…you mean more to me than anyone else in the world.” You’re going to choose to believe him, especially when Sanji goes the extra mile to make sure you know how much he loves you.

[bigfan-fanfic]

I'd Hammer in the Morning (Male!Reader x Thor)

Part One

"What do you mean, you're quitting?" Tony practically shouts.

"Hey, hey, I didn't say the Q-word."

"But you are."

"I... I'm going to be moving to Asgard, Tony. I can't be your personal assistant from a realm away."

Tony fidgets, swinging an arm in your direction. "A 'realm away?' Look how they've got you talking - you can say 'realm' with a straight face!"

"Please don't make this difficult." you try to get that stern but kind note in your voice that Frigga gets when managing Odin or Thor, but you don't quite get there.

"Fine, I won't. Recharge, I don't accept your resignation."

"Pretty sure it doesn't work that way."

"Don't care." Tony quips petulantly. When Pepper walks in, he immediately bursts out. "Recharge is quitting!"

Pepper smiles at you. "Yes, he is, and we're so excited for you. Congratulations, Y/N."

Tony's jaw drops.

"I know it's short notice, but Tony's going to host your goodbye party before you leave, if that's alright."

"I am?"

She silences him with a look. Oh, there it is.

"Fine, fine..."

And with that, after an all-too-wild party that Pepper does her best to manage, you're ready to leave Midgard as your primary residence.

Thor meets you atop the Avengers Tower, the burning runic circle etched into the helipad, little drones already trying to clear up the ash and cinders.

You run to his arms, excited to see him.

"Did you truly think I would not wish to witness every moment of your arrival to my home? Our home, now." Thor chuckles.

"No, I actually thought I was going to awkwardly have to call Heimdall."

You notice a few other Asgardians are here, glancing around interestedly. "Father is eager for your arrival. He assumed you'd have more... luggage. Insisted I bring porters."

You don't really have much more than a couple large suitcases and a few boxes to contain everything you own. Tony had insisted on digitizing all of your books and movies and games and ensuring you'd have communication and internet even on Asgard with a tiny prism he assured you had a copy of JARVIS on it for your use.

It's his way of showing he cares, because he can't go more than two sentences without snarking, by law, apparently.

"Wait... your father is eager for my arrival? I... I kinda thought Lord Odin wasn't too fond of Midgardians."

"No, he's not disdainful, simply... he worries about me. Our... lifespans."

You balk instinctively, the notion that Thor may long outlive you a little depressing. "Oh."

"But he seems to be much more open. So either he has a plan, or you have simply won him over as a mortal that can wield Mjolnir and learn my mother's seidr."

You do recall Odin becoming more warm to your presence, especially once you got over the hump of learning magic and started to transcend your electrokinesis. Frigga, of course, loves you. "A plan? To, like... deal with my lifespan?"

"Perhaps. Mother mentioned something about a coronation gift."

"Wow, all of this for your boyfriend? They're that eager to have me?"

"All of Asgard is eager. To be completely honest..." Thor chuckles, almost nervously. "I believe they expect a proposal soon."

"Oh." You chuckle a little, almost nervous as well. "And should they?"

"My prince... my king... you know this has been the greatest year of my life. I am more than eager to share all my days with you."

"Thor... I love you too."

"Then perhaps a proposal is not far off at all." He smirks. "Now, are you certain this is all your luggage?"

"Yes. Underwhelming, I know."

"Not at all. It simply means you will have plenty of room for the gifts I will shower you with."

You giggle. And then it hits you that you are truly leaving Earth. You frown softly, looking around as nostalgia crashes over you in waves.

"What ails you, my love?"

"Just... it's suddenly very hard to leave."

Thor takes you in his arms and kisses you. "I swear that as long as the Bifrost stands, I shall take you to Midgard whenever you wish."

You kiss him back. "You're sweet. But... it's just the change. It's always a big moment. But I'm not leaving home, not really. I'm coming home. To you. To Odin and Frigga. Even to Loki."

Thor grins. "Truly, you think of my misguided brother as your family?"

You nod. "Frigga and I have been taking lessons outside his cell lately as part of his rehabilitation."

His eyes shine with something surpassing gratitude and admiration.

"My king... allow me the honor of bringing you home."

And in a flash of rainbow and lightning, he does.

[juno-of-wonderland]

Monster au: The Hybrid Lord route [ending 1 (part 1)]

warning: the reader for this route has been drawn (just like the previous one) and will be FtM, blood and injury.

List tag: @112-darling, @rain112-darling, @callmedarling112, @mushroomfrog203

You shake your head, letting go of the bad feeling and approach the flower, crouching down and touching the thin yellow petals. A strange noise was made to the left and no matter how fast you were, you couldn't avoid what was coming; a heavy, hard mass hit your face, throwing you backwards. Due to your imbalance, you fell rolling down a ravine, your body colliding with rocks and roots, tearing your clothes and skin. You heard a thud before you fell. Your head was confused, spinning and your vision threatened to go dark. Supporting your hands on the ground, you try to get up, but your body is sore and your face is burning and hurting, your eyes sting with tears, you fall. Before you lose consciousness, you hear screams and more screams, then everything goes black.

…

You opened your eyes, grunting in pain, you turned your body so that you were on your back, looking through the hole you fell through, you realized that it was already day. You cough your nose before slowly getting up, you sit down and look at that giant den, earth, branches, stone, sinister eyes in the darkness, earth and… Your head slowly turned to look at your eyes, damn it, maybe you really did invade someone's den. The sinister green glow didn't leave your direction and you couldn't make out much of anything because it was in the darkest part of that hole. "Uh… yeah… look, I swear I didn't mean to invade your den, something hit me and I fell here" you said to the thing. You heard a snort and then "herbivores" was spoken. First mental note, the creature can talk, second note, it's apparently male, third note, it's full of itself and you don't like it very much, fourth note, probably, almost certainly, it's some carnivore and you need to get out of its sight if you don't want to become dinner. You moved further away from him, dragging your butt on the ground, until your hand touched something delicate. You looked back and it was the dandelion flower! It was a little crushed and had missing petals, but it must still be useful for something. You looked for your bag to put it away, but you didn't see it anywhere on the ground. So, hesitantly, you looked up. There it was, stuck on a branch that you couldn't reach. "You've got to be kidding me," you muttered. Taking the flower and putting it in a large pocket of your pants, you regretted not being able to keep it in a better place. You walked in circles for a few minutes, thinking of ways to get out and always keeping an eye on what was with you in that hole. Your first and only idea was to climb. One hand grabbed a mound of dirt and one foot climbed on another. You managed to climb three sections before the earth crumbled and you fell, swallowing dirt in the process. You spat and tried to get the taste off your tongue. The creature didn't laugh, but you could feel how amused he was with the situation. "I want to see you do better to get out of here," you muttered. Sitting on the floor, you couldn't think of anything else. You just stood there, watching the clouds pass by, comparing them to things you knew. Belatedly, you noticed blood on the floor. It turned your stomach. At noon, that hole looked like an oven, and your prisoner seemed to agree. If his few grumbles were because of that, maybe that's why he's been in the dark since you woke up. You also wanted to go into the shadows, but your instincts told you it was dangerous, and this time you decided it would be better to stay between the light and the darkness.

"Hey," you said in the midst of boredom, and as expected, there was no answer. "Do you own this place or are you trapped here too?" Silence. "Is that blood on the floor yours?" I can help you, I have this” you show the flower “and some other things in my bag to help you” You felt his eyes on your hand, they were intense and contemplative. “At dusk” he said. You were confused, but accepted the strange situation. As soon as night fell, you waited, with your stomach growling loudly, God, you thought you would faint from weakness at any moment. Staring at the emerald eyes that shone in the darkness, you witnessed them come up from the ground, which indicates that the creature had been lying down this whole time. He came out of hiding, getting closer and closer, you could now see his body, all the wounds and his shape, his lion ears and tail, even dirty and injured, he was breathtaking, but as expected, he looked at you like a prince would look at his poor servant. He held out his open palm, you plucked a petal and handed it to him, which made him frown. “That’s not enough,” he said. “It heals more than you can imagine.” “Maybe a human, but not a vampire, could give me that flower or I’d use your blood to get out of here.” Oh, ohhh, that explains why he has to wait until nightfall, but why isn’t he regenerating on his own? Maybe the weapons that wounded him had something in them… do vampires have animal ears? You hesitated, despite the threat, to hand over the flower, it was such a rare item! But you could never get out on your own, you gave the flower and waited for him to be willing and, after healing himself, to take you out of there too. The vampire swallowed the flower whole, you noticed the sand near his feet molding and the wounds accelerating their healing process slightly, he looked at you and you looked back. Suddenly his hands were on your hips and he was close, very close. Before you knew it, you were already out, thrown on the ground, the man standing next to you, just standing in place, then he falls to the ground, unconscious… you wonder what you did to end up in a situation like this.

(part 2)

[snapghoul]

If we happen to be left half alive

Ethan discovers Mav almost died during the uranium mission.

Note: first of three ideas requested by Sunshine, so thank you ❤️❤️

Warnings: discussion of near death

Song: won’t get fooled again - the who

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Pete definitely felt his age. Ejecting from a jet traveling at Mach speed left him feeling like he'd been through a blender. His chest throbbed with bruises, and though he was thankful nothing was cracked or broken, it sure felt that way. He slumped in a chair at his beach house, aware that Cyclone had made it abundantly clear he needed to stay in Fightertown vicinity. That was a bitter pill to swallow; all Pete wanted was to return to the desert, fix his plane, and find some peace away from the endless parade of pilots knocking on his door. He loved his squad—those kids were just concerned—but he needed some time to simply exist.

With nothing on but the sound of the waves crashing across the narrow street, he leaned back in the chair, eyes closed, letting the beach’s rhythm wash over him. After two weeks of non-stop action and nearly dying in a frozen tundra, he craved nothing more than stillness.

The screen door creaked open, and he sighed, expecting it to be Bradley or another Dagger who felt entitled to stroll in unannounced. He braced himself for the impending visit but cracked an eye open when he heard a familiar sigh and saw someone settle onto the couch opposite him.

“Walk right in, welcome to Maverick’s revolving door. How can I help you?” Pete quipped, a chuckle escaping his lips. Ethan smirked, a soft snort of amusement slipping out.

“You should really lock that. Who knows who might just walk in?” Ethan replied, slouching deeper into the cushion, a rare display of comfort.

“If I did, I’d have to replace it. The Navy would just break it down,” Pete shrugged, wincing slightly at the jab of pain.

“I bet,” Ethan nodded. “I heard about the uranium situation.”

Pete raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched on his face, his brother always so quick to cut to the point. He lifted his head from the cushion, narrowing his eyes at his twin. “You heard, or you dug it up?”

Ethan matched his gaze, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Same difference.”

Pete rolled his eyes, anticipating that it wouldn’t be long before his brother started probing. They both understood the risks of their lives but rarely discussed them. Still, Ethan had always prioritized others' safety over his own, and Pete knew that well.

Pete prepared to reassure him, raising a hand to wave off the concern as he always did. But Ethan beat him to it, the fear and pain in his eyes silencing Pete's attempts at comfort.

“You got shot down, Peter! You infiltrated an enemy base to steal an F-14 Tomcat! You almost died—what the hell were you thinking?” The frustration echoed in Ethan's voice, the same tone he’d used when he shouted at Bradley for coming after him.

“Three times if you count getting shot at by a helicopter and almost going down again on the way out,” Pete replied, forcing a smile and shrugging, trying to lighten the mood.

But Ethan's expression darkened, brows furrowing and mouth tightening in disapproval.

“Ethan—” Pete started, but Ethan held up a hand to stop him.

“You almost died, three times! Look, I know I can’t talk, but—” Ethan clenched his fist, shaking his head in frustration. “You’re the only family I have left. If you die on me—”

Pete sat up with a groan. He knew this moment was coming, yet it still hit hard. It was a stark truth: they were all each other had. He felt the weight of their shared worry.

“I know, E, I know. I’m sorry. In that moment, if I didn’t put myself between those missiles and Bradley, it was a risk I was willing to take.” His voice was steady, resolute. He would take any risk for Bradley; he owed that much to Goose and Carol.

Ethan’s expression softened, realizing the depth of Pete’s commitment. It had been a long time since Bradley was mentioned, and Ethan understood how much the kid meant to his brother.

“Okay… just—be careful?” Ethan finally said, his voice more vulnerable.

Pete smiled, nodding. “Always. You be careful too.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their argument lingering. It wasn’t often they clashed like this. Ethan sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m actually surprised they didn’t send you. Y’know, a secret uranium site in a remote, impossible location seems more your style,” Pete said with a smile.

Ethan chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, me too.”