#i would only give up my entire being for this

[sceletaflores]

come on and show me a little bit of spine!

pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader

wc: 5.5k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, drinking, smoking, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, public sex (alleyway hehe), biting, blood but not blood play, pain kink, scent kink, a special guest (!!!), jealous logan muahahaha, emotional constipation but like wtf is new, nat probably blatantly ignoring canon, probably ooc logan and friends sorry i'm just a girl, porn w/ plot (a little???), no use of y/n.

author’s note: HAHA BACK ON MY LOGAN BULLSHIT! who’s laughing? not me. i can’t stop writing for him it’s insane and selfish i know i know i’m sorry. bee tee dubs this is part two to all’s fair in love and viscera cus i couldn't get them out of my head so...kisses!

five x-men walk into a bar, only three walk out…

All men are the same. X-gene or no x-gene, they're all immature pigs.

You've come to find that it's more than just skin deep. If you took a knife to every man in this bar, you'd surely find the exact same little metaphorical mass of arrogance ingrained in every single one of them once all the layers are peeled back far enough.

And that's what Logan is, a man.

A stubborn, arrogant, mind-numbingly frustrating man who's convinced he could never be wrong just because he's had a little more time than normal to perfect the art of being completely insufferable.

No adamantium skeleton or foot long claws of death can change that.

You could set him on fire, drown him, watch him regenerate from a single cell, and nothing would change.

So, in hindsight, you really should have seen this coming.

It was Ororo's idea to go out, insisting the team needed it. A casual night at the bar across town to raise bravado after a few close call missions.

It sounded fun at the time, and for the first thirty minutes it was.

Getting to shed your hero skin for a few hours every so often is always nice, and you love your team. Love getting to just sit and live with them. You hardly get nights like this anymore, filled with playing pool and darts like people do.

That being said, you were reaching the top of your limit. Fast.

It started at the bartop, with Logan sauntering up next to you for the first time tonight. 

He slid into the empty seat to your left, leaned against the bar casually, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. His lips tugged into that half-smirk he wore that night in the training room.

“You avoiding me?” he asks, voice low, bent down just enough to speak directly into your ear. "Haven't seen you all night."

You almost scoffed, almost turned to face him so he could see the look of irate disbelief on your face. Almost, but you didn't want to give him the extra attention.

"I could ask you the same thing."

You didn't miss how things had changed between the two of you after your night in the training room. Something shifted, and not in the romantic 'so...what are we now?' territory.

It shifted into Logan disappearing, closing himself off. He didn't go out of his way to avoid you, didn't even go as far as ignoring your existence entirely. He didn't need to, you knew it was different.

He refused to talk about it, refused to even acknowledge it, completely shutting you down the one time you tried bringing it up.

It stung. The feeling of rejection, especially after that night. You felt like you bared a part of your soul to Logan on that dark blue training mat. You swore you saw something different in his eyes too, a subtle shift, something that said this ran deeper than just a messy fuck between friends.

It played on your mind like a loop, every detail. You nitpicked almost every single thing you did, searched your mind for what you could have done that scared him off.

It has to be you, it always is.

It took a week to get over it. A week to wash away the feeling of Logan's hands on your body, of his lips on yours, of his cock carving a space for itself in your cunt, of his blood sliding down your throat and slicking the palms of your hands.

Eventually, that sadness gave way to self-reflection. Self-reflection gave way to anger, and now you're just plain pissed.

This has nothing to do with you.

Logan is a grown man, not a goddamn baby. He should know how to communicate by now, should take the stick out of his ass and drop the whole 'I'm no good for you baby' martyr cross he's carried around for over a century and talk to you.

But if he wants to be alone to sulk in self pity and sorrow for two hundred more years, you'll let him.

Logan's smirk falters, his expression falling with a heavy sigh. He leans back, one boot moving to rest on the rung of your stool. "You really want to do this here?"

"You came up to me," you shrug, finally turning to face him. The warm glow of the bar lights catch the edges of your frustration. "If you’re here to talk, then talk."

Logan doesn't respond, just meets your gaze with a raised brow. His eyes scan over your face slowly, taking in the pinch between your brows and the stern look in your eyes.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Scott's voice pierces through the tense air between you. His tone is casual in a way that's undermined by the smug smile turning the corner of his mouth up. It's too knowing, like he'd been listening in before.

Logan's brows pinch together in irritation the same way they always do when Scott talks, but he holds your gaze. His silence is infuriating because it's the same old routine—he just stares, brooding, like he’s waiting for the problem to magically solve itself without ever opening his damn mouth.

It makes your blood simmer just under the surface, the tips of your fingers burning with it.

You grind your teeth, balling your hands into fists where they sit on the bar. "Scott," you say, not breaking eye contact with Logan, "go play fetch or something."

Scott raises his hands in mock surrender, but you know he won’t leave without a parting shot. “Just looking out for you, you know. Can’t afford you two tearing each other apart over a little lovers spat before the night’s even over.”

As he saunters off, you turn your full attention back to Logan, who’s still studying you with that infuriating intensity. It’s as if he’s trying to decode some secret language written across your face.

You almost want to laugh at how predictable he is, how he thinks he can just sit there, unbothered, while you’re ready to explode.

“Are you really just going to sit there?” you challenge, leaning closer, daring him to respond. “You can’t keep dodging this forever, Logan. You think I’m the only one feeling this? We were both there that night."

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think you see the flicker of vulnerability beneath the gruff exterior. But then it’s gone, replaced by that stubborn wall he always puts up.

“I don’t need to talk about it,” he mutters, his voice low, but there’s an edge of desperation that catches your attention. “What’s done is done.”

“‘What’s done is done’?” You can’t help the incredulous laugh that escapes you. “Is that your new catch phrase? They gonna start printing that on the front of your action figure's box?"

Logan's brows furrow deeper, his mouth turning down in a hard frown. "Watch it," he warns tersely, the edge of a snarl on his lips.

You lean forward, desperate to get anything out of him. "Or what?"

The bar buzzes around you, laughter and music blending into a distant hum, but all you can focus on is him—the way his eyes flare with that familiar spark of rebellion, how handsome he looks under the bar's dim lights, the way his smell is starting to warm your insides despite how mad you are.

You raise your brow, waiting, hoping. He stays silent.

That's it.

You stand abruptly, causing your stool to scrape against the floor loudly. Logan straightens, eyes narrowing as he watches you, but you’re more than done with all of this. You've had enough.

"I'm going for some air." you say evenly, slipping your jacket off the back of your chair. "Don't follow me."

You turn and walk away before Logan can answer, heading in the direction of the bar's alley door.

You try your best to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach, the first tendrils of dread wrapping themselves around you tighter with every step. Your eyes burn embarrassingly each time you blink, but you refuse to cry.

You’re emotionally spiraling a couple feet from the door when someone suddenly steps in front of you, and you crash into them.

“So sorry, ma’am,” A familiar voice says from somewhere in front of you as two strong hands grip your waist to steady you. “Completely my fault, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

You crane your head up, eyes dragging from the blue gingham button down stretched over impressive muscle until they land on a pair of blue eyes and blonde head of hair you recognize.

“Steve?” 

Steve Rogers smiles down at you, his hands still lightly resting on your waist. His expression is soft, apologetic, and a little surprised. Your name falls from his lips in a warm greeting, his hands lingering for a second longer before he drops them and takes a small step back.

“I’m surprised you still remember me. It’s been a while,” he says with the same boyish charm you remember, like he hadn’t just watched you nearly barge through the door like it owed you money. “How’ve you been?”

You blink up at Steve, the frustration from your situation with Logan still fresh, swirling through your system like a storm.

How’ve you been?

What a loaded question.

“Better,” you answer with a tight smile, barely convincing yourself. “Just tired. We’ve been so busy recently, you know how it is.”

Steve gives you a searching look, his eyes skimming your face with the kind of care that makes you want to shrink into yourself. His brow furrows slightly, concern flickering in those crystal-clear eyes of his as he studies your face. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, genuinely, like he’s already picked up on the fact that something’s off. 

How could you forget, he’s got the emotional radar of a saint. Lucky you.

"Yeah, sure," you lie, adjusting your jacket and pointedly avoiding the obvious upset that’s probably plastered across your face. You force a smile, hoping he buys it. "Just needed some air. This place is packed."

The furrow of Steve’s brows deepen, his lips pressing into a thin line like he doesn’t believe you. You feel worse under the intense pressure of his knowing stare, like a bug trapped under a magnifying glass.

You’re about to say something—anything—to fill the awkward silence, but then you feel it. That heavy, unmistakable presence at your back.

Of course he didn’t listen.

Steve’s eyes flick over your shoulder, and you don’t even have to turn around to know Logan’s right there, brooding like a dark cloud about to burst. You can practically feel the tension rolling off him in waves as one strong arm slides underneath the thick denim of your jacket and around your waist.

“Cap,” Logan’s clipped voice greets from somewhere behind you, laced with barely concealed irritation as his fingers dig into the cotton of your shirt, staking some sort of unspoken claim.

Steve gives Logan a respectful nod, though his expression remains calm, measured, the same quiet authority he always carries. “Logan,” he greets, smile faltering for the second it takes him to drop his eyes to Logan’s arm. “Nice to see you doing well.”

Logan hums noncommittally, you feel the rumble of it against your back. “Didn’t think this was your scene,” he says to Steve, brow cocked in suspicion.

Steve shakes his head, a small laugh falling from his lips. “It’s not, usually. I got strong armed into joining a few friends.”

“Right,” Logan replies, tone flat like Steve would have a reason to lie.

You can almost see the tension thickening in the air, an electric pulse that shoots straight through you. Logan’s grip tightens subtly, an instinctive reaction to Steve’s presence, but you can feel the subtle heat rising, the way your heart races under his touch despite yourself.

It’s infuriating, and for a second, you’re tempted to dive right into it, to unearth the chaos lurking beneath that chiseled exterior. But then you remember where you are, why you walked away from Logan in the first place—how public it is, how many eyes are on you.

“Steve and I worked together, a base infiltration in Albany a few years ago.” You cut in, shooting Logan a look over your shoulder, like a sharp glare alone could get him to calm down, if only for a second. But he just meets your gaze with that familiar stubbornness, eyes dark and unyielding. 

It’s infuriating, and for a moment, you’re tempted to dive right into it, to unearth the chaos lurking beneath that chiseled exterior. But then you remember where you are—how public it is, how many eyes are on you.

“Feels like a lifetime ago,” Steve says, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

And it does. 

You think of Kevlar squeezed around your ribs, of explosions and buildings falling and the smell of gunpowder.

"Yeah, it does," you reply, ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach and forcing a smile.

“God, you look…” His gaze rakes over you like he can’t help it, the bright blue of his eyes trailing from your face down your legs and back up all over again. You can feel Logan bristle next to you. 

”You look amazing,” Steve finishes with a small shake of his head, million dollar smile still pulling up the corners of his mouth. “Buy you a drink?”

“We were just leavin’, Cap,” Logan cuts in tersely, his arm tightening around your waist even more. His grip is possessive, but it’s not affectionate—it’s an unsaid challenge, a warning. “Calling it an early night.”

You whip your head around, confusion evident on your face. "We?" you parrot back, the word hanging in the air like a challenge of its own. “We haven’t decided anything.”

Logan’s jaw tightens, that familiar stubbornness rearing its head again. His hand splays flat over the span of your lower back, pushing just enough for you to feel the power behind it but not enough to really move you. “Let’s go.”

You look at Steve, then Logan, then the crowded bar, then the door to the alley, and repeat. 

It should be an easy answer, an easy way out of going in circles with Logan even more than you already have.

But you find yourself stuck, feet rooted to the floor as your mind races with a hundred different thoughts in the span of a second.

Your lips part, and you’re not even sure what you’re going to say, when Steve beats you to the punch. 

"She can decide for herself," he says evenly, though there's a subtle shift in his tone. It’s calm, but there’s a steely edge to it, like a well-honed blade concealed beneath all the politeness. He’s still smiling, but it’s less soft now, more hardened around the edges.

Logan’s grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging in like he's daring Steve to push the envelope any further. “Yeah? Don’t think she needs you speakin’ for her, either.”

"Enough," you snap, stepping out of Logan’s hold with a sharp turn, your voice cutting through the growing storm between them. You turn to him with a hard look, brows pinched in anger. "Fine, let's go."

Your smile feels strained, the edges sharp and jagged as you face Steve, the weight of Logan’s presence at your back heavy and suffocating. “It was great seeing you, Steve. Really.”

Your voice sounds strained even to your own ears.

“We’ll have to catch up some other time,” you add, though the words taste bittersweet on your tongue. 

You can tell he wants to say something, his smile completely dropping as his eyes flit between you and Logan a few times. You give him a pleading look, a reassuring nod that you’ve got this. 

Steve hesitates, you can see the gears turning in his mind, weighing the situation and trying to gauge the tension in the air. But ultimately, he nods, offering you one last smile that’s laced with concern.

“Absolutely,” he says, his voice warm despite the tension hanging in the air. “I’d love to. Just let me know when.”

With one last nod to Logan, he turns and walks away to meld into the crowd until you can’t make out the blue of his shirt anymore.

You don’t turn to Logan as you finally walk out the door. The clunk of his boots follow you the whole way out.

As soon as you’re outside, all the anger sets in at once, burning hot in your stomach as you spin around to face him. The fresh air hits your face like a slap, cool and bracing, but it does nothing to quell the fire simmering inside you.

"You really can't leave well enough alone, can you?" You snap, folding your arms defensively. “You just had to go and stake your territory?”

Logan’s face hardens, his eyes dark under the dim streetlight. “What do you expect me to do? Let you walk away and get buttered up Rogers while I sit at the bar with my dick in my hand?”

“Steve wasn’t doing anything!” You exclaim, frustration seeping into your every word. “He was just being nice, we’re friends.”

Logan lets out a disbelieving snort, shaking his head hard enough that his hair sways with it. “Nothin’ about that was friendly, kid. You’d have to be fuckin’ blind to not see that.”

You huff, turning your eyes to the sky in exasperation. “Why do you care?” you fire back, heart racing at the challenge. “We’re not together! You’ve made that more than clear!”

Now that the seal is broken, it’s like you can’t stop. Words fall out of your mouth faster than your mind can keep up, all the pent up frustration you’ve felt over the past few weeks boiling over.

“You’re the one that’s acting like nothing happened!” You throw your hands up in exasperation, your voice rising with every word. “You’re the one who disappeared, who’s been avoiding this whole thing like it didn’t mean anything!”

He growls, stepping closer, his presence looming. "You think I don’t know that, kid? You think I haven’t been dealing with this shit—with us?"

"Well, you sure as hell don’t act like it! You don’t talk about it. You don’t even try! You just stand there and expect me to what? Read your mind?”

For a split second, Logan’s expression falters, his shoulders stiffening as if your words struck a nerve. But just as quickly, the mask falls back into place. "I’m no good for you, kid. And you know it. I’m doing you a favor."

"There it is again!" You bark out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "The martyr complex. You’ve been alive for over a century, Logan. You’ve got time on your side, and you still can’t figure out how to be a decent human being in a relationship?”

He flinches slightly, but his eyes remain locked on yours, anger and frustration swirling behind them. "It’s not that simple."

“Of course it is!" You step forward, closing the gap between you. "You just don’t want to do the hard work. You don’t want to open up, to be vulnerable, because then you’d actually have to face yourself. And God forbid Wolverine confronts something he can’t claw his way out of.”

Logan’s jaw clenches, his eyes blazing, and for a long beat, the two of you stand in a tense, electrified silence. The world around you seems to fall away—no bar, no missions, no X-Men—just the two of you, standing in the alley, raw and exposed.

You don’t know who moves first, you or Logan, before you can register it, the distance between you disappears, swallowed by the pull of all that unresolved tension.

His lips claim yours, fierce and urgent, as if this was the only language he’s fluent in—raw emotion, violent passion. His hands find your waist again, gripping tight, pulling you flush against him.

The kiss is messy, desperate, a collision of teeth and tongues, but it’s exactly what you expected. It’s how you and Logan have always been—no finesse, just fire and stubborn intensity. It’s the only way he knows how to communicate, the only way he can let go, even for a second.

Your hands slide up into his hair, yanking roughly as a guttural growl vibrates from his chest into your mouth. You feel the heat of his skin, the coiled tension in his muscles, and it ignites something wild inside you.

The anger hasn’t left—it’s just morphed into something darker, something hungrier.

The kiss is nothing like the ones from that night in the training room. This one is full of anger and frustration, all the emotions that have been simmering between you two finally bubbling over in an explosive release. His lips are hard, demanding, and the taste of whiskey lingers faintly on his breath, mixing with the metallic scent of the alley.

You push back just as fiercely, your hands tangled in his hair as you try to pour all of your hurt, your confusion, and your pent-up rage into that single kiss. For a moment, it’s all- consuming—hot, reckless, like trying to catch fire in your hands.

“You’re such a fuckin’ punk,” he grates against your lips, kneading the meat of your hips roughly like he’s trying to anchor himself to you. His teeth scrape your bottom lip, his growl vibrating through you like a warning shot, but it only spurs you on.

"You’re one to talk,” you bite back, the heat between you both as volatile as ever.

You drop your hands to his chest, gripping the leather of his jacket in your fists and yanking him closer until there's no space left, until it's hard to tell where the anger ends and the need begins.

Logan growls, the sound reverberating deep in his chest, as his hands move up your back, possessive and rough. “You keep pushin' me, kid. You really wanna see how far I’ll go?"

"Maybe I do," you shoot back, biting down lightly on his lower lip. You taste the blood—his blood—and something primal stirs in you. His healing factor kicks in almost instantly, but the heat between you spikes with the sharp tang of it. It always does.

Logan hisses sharply, tongue swiping over the blood still dotted along his lip before he’s pushing you backwards.

You have no choice but to move with him, blindly stumbling back a few steps until your shoulders hit the wall of the bar. His lips attached to your neck the whole way, teeth nipping at the rapid flutter of your pulse.

It’s like a wildfire spreading between you, all heat and destruction, and the alley around you seems to fade into the background, leaving nothing but the chaotic mess of you and Logan.

You consider the risks of fucking Logan in an alleyway for all of two seconds, every single warning bell in your mind going silent when his hands tighten their hold on your hips to spin your around, pushing you up against the brick roughly.

“Fine,” he concedes, yanking the fabric of your skirt up hard enough you hear a tiny rip. “I’ll give you what you want, princess.”

The sound of his zipper being tugged down might as well be a gunshot with how loudly it reverberates through your mind. Your thighs slide together slickly, aching cunt clenching in anticipation.

The soft sound of Logan pushing his jeans down is the only warning you get before the thick head of his cock is sliding over the wetness staining the fabric of your panties.

“This what you wanted?” he asks, hooking his fingers into the lace to tug it aside and slip the length of himself through your slick folds. “You need a cock in your hungry pussy to feel better?” He lines himself up with your fluttering entrance, pushing gently until the very tip slips in.

Your lips fall open, brow furrowing as he starts feeding you his length one infuriating inch at a time.

Anger still warms your gut, but you find yourself nodding wordlessly. Tiny, desperate sounds escaping your throat the deeper he sinks in.

The stretch of him is almost too much, like he’s splitting you in two. It’s the kind of sting that just barely toes the line of pain and pleasure in the best way. It has you crying out when he finally bottoms out, pressing your forehead against the brick to try and ground yourself.

Logan’s considerate enough to keep still, thumbs rubbing soothing circles over the skin of your hips as you adjust.

“God,” you groan, shifting your hips enough to feel the way his cock rubs along your walls. The burn starts to melt away into pure pleasure with every grind.

“That’s it, baby,” Logan goads, hands still planted on your hips as you start to bounce on his cock in earnest. “Write your name on this cock, tell everyone who it belongs to.”

His words just spur you on, a high whine falling from your lips as you set a steady rhythm. The slap of skin on skin getting louder, echoing around you lewdly. 

“Mm, feels good huh?” he hums, pressing a sweet kiss to your shoulder.

You barely choke out a garbled ‘yes’, thighs starting to shake with the effort of thrusting yourself back. 

“Sorry,” he says, gripping the meat of your hips to pull you back against his cock roughly. “What was that?”

“Yes!” you mewl, cheeks burning. The anger steadily drains from your body the closer you get to come, until it's an afterthought just present enough in your mind to still matter. “Feels so good, please Logan…”

Logan groans under his breath, pulling his hips back back back until he’s reaming forward. He thrusts once, twice, three times before he’s taking over. Big hands anchored to your hips to drag you back on every snap of his hips. 

Your entire body lights up, the pathetic noises passing through slack your lips barely register over the white noise rushing through your ears. Logan’s fucking you like he wants to break you, heavy hips pounding into the meat of your ass like an animal. The slap of it stinging your skin only for him to pull out and leave you empty before filling you again.

You go pliant in his grip, a high moan escaping you as he expertly hits that spongy spot inside of you that has heat pooling in your gut.

“God, I missed this,” he admits into your hair, one hand sliding around to press against your lower stomach. Logan’s hand is massive and blisteringly hot over your skin, cupping and feeling where he punches up into you with every thrust from the outside.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, pressing his forehead to your back desperately. “Do you feel that? Feel how deep I am inside of you? Gonna fuckin’ fill you up, stuff you so full you’ll be leaking for weeks.”

“Logan,” you gasp, heat coiling in your belly. 

“I know,” he breathes, hips speeding up impossibly faster. “I got you, honey.”

You turn your head, the skin of your cheek scraping over the rough bring with every hard snap of his hips. The thick muscle of his forearm fills your eye line, strong and tan where it cages you to the bar. You swear you can see the blood pumping through his veins. Your stomach jerks with need, your mind buzzing.

Without thinking, you lean forward and bury your teeth in the muscle there. The coppery tang of blood on your tongue sends you reeling, a deep groan rumbling through your chest.

“Fuck!” Logan exclaims, giving one last thrust before he’s burying himself as far as he can. His cock throbs, pulsing as he unloads inside you. Rope after rope of come paints the shaking walls of your cunt, slicking the thrust of his that much more.

Pleasure goes off in sparks all up your spine, lighting up every vertebrae until the fireworks go off in your brain. Your hands claw at the wall desperately, eyes screwing shut as you fly over the edge.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as you come, hands digging into the brick hard enough that it cracks and crumbles beneath them, falling to your feet in little rock’s.

Everything around you fizzles out into nothing, just a dull hum cocooning you in this moment, and for just a second it’s like you're floating. 

The heave of Logan’s chest against your back and his lips on your neck only add to that far away feeling, nice enough that has you leaning into the warmth of his body. 

A car horn blaring somewhere in the distance jerks you out of any warm, fuzzy feelings and deposits you back in the real world. Your eyes refocus on the building in front of you, and a displeased groan rips from your chest.

“I made a mess,” you murmur quietly, looking at the two matching dents in the bar's wall and the same red powder staining your hands.

Logan huffs into the sweaty skin of your neck, an amused noise. “That’s alright,” he says, barely out of breath. He pulls out just enough to let his come start leaking out around his dick, sliding down the length of him in thick rivers of white. “So I did.”

You scoff, shaking your head in disgust as he steps away with a snort. Your voice is breathy and small when you speak, “You’re disgusting.”

It's quiet for a long time, both you and Logan dressing yourselves in silence. The thrum of traffic around you mixed with the muffled music bleeding through the wall is the only noise filling the space.

You drag your eyes to him, watching as he yanks up his jean’s zipper while you smooth your skirt down.

“I told you not to follow me. When we were back inside,” you say, voice steadier than before but just as breathless.

Logan meets your eyes, and there’s a pause. For a second, you think maybe he’ll turn around and leave, run away to try and forget this too. Instead, you hear his boots scrape against the gravel as he steps closer.

"I don't take orders well, remember?" His voice is gravelly, like he’s chewing on the words before spitting them out.

"Obviously," you huff under your breath, a humorless laugh shaking your shoulders slightly.

Logan’s lips quirk into a tiny, almost imperceptible smile, but it fades just as quickly.

He takes another step closer, close enough now that you can feel the warmth radiating off him again, his presence as heavy as ever. But this time, there’s something different.

He looks drained. Not physically, but emotionally. Worn down in a way you’ve never seen.

“I’m not good at this,” he admits quietly, his voice tired. “You know that.”

You raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck in that rare, almost vulnerable way he does when he’s out of his element. Finally, he meets your gaze.

“I’m…" he trails off, mouth pulling into a wince like it physically pains him to apologize. "I’m sorry…”

“Wow,” you say slowly, head tilting to the side as you study him. “That was the worst apology I’ve ever gotten.”

Logan narrows his eyes at you, a mix of irritation and reluctant amusement flickering across his face. “You gonna let me talk?” he asks curtly, but there’s no real bite to it.

You sigh, nodding your head for him to continue.

He shifts his weight, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. “I know I’ve been a stubborn ass. I’m used to keeping everyone at arm’s length. It’s safer that way. I’ve lost too many people to just let someone in without a fight.”

His voice drops, laced with a vulnerability you rarely see. “I thought if I just stayed away, it would make things easier for you. I’m not relationship material, kid. I can’t be that guy for you. I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

He shakes his head, his shoulders slumping in more as he talks. “I’m a damn mess, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I do. A lot. It just scares the hell out of me.”

For a moment, you’re unsure how to respond. Part of you wants to lash out more, to keep the anger burning because it feels safer than the vulnerability you’re feeling now.

On the other hand, for the first time tonight, you see the man behind the adamantium, behind the claws and the gruff exterior. The man behind the Wolverine.

You only see Logan, who’s lived through centuries of loss and pain, who’s learned to build walls so thick even he can’t break through them sometimes.

And damn it, you hate how much you still care. You hate that, even after everything, Logan is the one person who can make you feel like this—angry, frustrated, and vulnerable all at once. But you can’t deny the truth any longer.

Because underneath all the anger and hurt, there’s still that spark. That stupid, stubborn spark that refuses to go out.

You take a step closer, your hand gently reaching for his. “You don’t have to be anything, Logan. You just have to try. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He nods, a slow, deliberate movement. Taking a slow set closer to you, he takes your cheek in his hand. The bright red rawness of your skin is slowly draining, tiny cuts knitting themselves together. “I can do that.”

He slides his thumb across your cheekbone and somehow, you believe him.

It’s not perfect. It’s not a promise that everything’s going to magically be okay. But it’s a start.

Maybe that’s enough.

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[hiraethwrote]

cw gn!reader but written with f!reader in mind, angst, no comfort, breakup, pining, minor clubbing wc: <1k an i'm on my period which is making me a little emotional, which resulted in this

ex!suguru will never truly be over you, convinced you’re the one that got away.

the breakup was “mutual”, emphasis on the quotation marks — it only meant you guys ended on good terms. it was a very quiet and tender scene. he holds your hands in his, slowly his thumb strokes across your knuckles, never letting his eyes leave your tear stained face.

ex!suguru who, despite disagreeing wholeheartedly with the decision, sees it’s for the best. he will forever hate himself for being unable to see it coming, unable to stop it — one day he suddenly notices how staying in the relationship brought you more turmoil than joy, and he didn't have the heart to hold onto you even though he so desperately wanted to. but he would ruin himself million times over for you

“it’ll be okay,” he says softly, letting himself indulge in the small acts that come so naturally to him one last time before he has to let go, hand reaching up to dry your tears and cupping your cheek. “i’ll be okay.”

with the quiet promise, he feels the stress leave your body and you rest against his touch, a sad smile painting your lips — you’re so beautiful, he thinks.

ex!suguru who lies because he knows it's what you need to hear. you had already stayed longer than you wanted because you didn’t want to hurt him. he wasn’t surprised. you were just so considerate, through and through. he had always thought the relationship was too good to be true anyways, never truly feeling worthy of you

ex!suguru who doesn’t cry, but that is because he feels numb. he can’t remember feeling a pain as intense as this one.

when your tears have stopped, only shy sniffles escaping you, he comes with one last confession. “i’m always going to love you.” he waits, hoping you would say it in return. it isn’t because you don’t love him anymore that you can’t keep going, it’s just because it isn’t working.

“i know,” you say quietly and his heart shatters.

ex!suguru who has his friends fooled because they think he is over the relationship already. he acts the same, eats the same and goes about his business the same — but that’s because it doesn’t concern anyone other than the two of you.

first weekend as a single man, gojo forces him to go out clubbing with him. he really doesn’t want to, but he can’t give his friend any excuses he will accept.

he hates every moment of it, rudely shutting down anyone that approaches him. no matter how attractive, no matter how charismatic, no matter how willing — they’re not you so what’s the point?

ex!suguru who hates the universe a little more than usual. despite his best efforts, he can’t seem to escape you entirely. and he swears he tries, but you somehow just appear every now and then.

he spots you in the grocery store, doing your daily shopping. he spots you in the line of the coffeehouse, ordering your usual drink (one he knows by heart). he sees you on every feed, posting pictures and updates of your life — you seem happy.

his heart screams for him to surrender to his desires, to approach you and hear your voice again. but he knows better, so after torturing himself by admiring you for a few seconds, he simply turns on his heel and leaves.

ex!suguru who after years still thinks about you as much as the day you left. he has tried to move on, but it feels like a betrayal, even after all this time.

has he healed? sure, a little. life goes on after all. with time he has been reunited with some sense of happiness. however it could never compare to the period of his life where he was so fortunate to be with you.

ex!suguru runs into you after nine years. and not like all the times he has simply noticed you down the street — no, you fully crash into his chest one day while walking out of a bakery.

to say he is surprised is an understatement. he has memorised all the places you used to visit so this exact scenario wouldn’t happen, and this had never been a chain you had set foot in before. but a lot changes in nine years.

“suguru, hi.” your voice is light, a rhythm in it that was not present at the end of your relationship. “wow, crazy running into you. how have you been?”

“good,” he croaks, eyes glued to your face. he still finds you as ethereal as the day you left. he wants to say more, but he is a little unsettled by how at peace you seem to be despite not being with him. “and you?”

it doesn’t go unnoticed how you present yourself as genuinely content with where you are in life. however, suguru goes through the entire heartbreak all over again — he has missed so much of your life. he used to think he would be along side you for every single moment of it. instead he is stood in front of you and feeling as if the walls are closing in on him.

his breath catches when you stretch out your hand to grab his forearm. “it was really great seeing you again,” you muse. it’s probably just wishful thinking, but he believes he hears a sadness in your voice that comes from missing him.

“you too,” he whispers, and you’re gone again.

ex!suguru who eventually comes to terms with just being alone again. before you, he always imagined this was how it would end, not the person made to share his life with someone.

you had obviously made him believe otherwise. with you by his side, waking up next to someone and sharing your meals didn’t seem so silly anymore.

but it turns out he only wanted those things if it was with you.

tags @sad-darksoul ﾉ @madaqueue ﾉ @toadtoru ﾉ @hiraethwa ﾉ @harperluvgojo

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[zevrra]

JJK.2—

synopsis: just some very nsfw hc’s for the men of jjk >:3

tags: 18(+) only!, MDNI, nsfw, highly suggestive content, dirty talk, mention of kinks, fem!reader, nanami kento, choso kamo, geto suguru, gojo satoru, toji fushiguro

𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 !!

pussy eater!!!

definitely the type to only think about pleasuring you

will eat you out for houuuuurs

ride his face, he begs for it

is sooo into roleplay (loves to rp a professor and college student of AGE!!!)

worships you

will make you cum at least a few times before he ever does

but i totally imagine him being a service (soft) top until he goes into “overtime” and then he’s a dom

dom nanami loves pulling your hair

calls you a brat/toy when you beg him for it

will stuff his tie in your mouth to keep you quiet

surprisingly is into public or open spaces

loves the thrill of fucking you outside cause he knows you struggle to hold your voice back

breeding kink go brrr

is all about praising and making sure you know you’re doing a good job

“fuck you’re taking me so well.” “good girl.” “look at how pretty you look fucking yourself on my cock.”

he’s really thick, has an upwards curve, 7” long

𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 !!

is a virgin until he meets you

doesn’t stop him from trying everything you suggest because he wants to please you

loves loves loves blowjobs

cums very easily though

a hot make out session mixed with some heavy grinding and/or groping and he could easily cum in his pants

is a bottom for the first few years you’re together before he becomes a switch!

easily begs you for everything

“please please please” AAAAAH

when he tops, he’s softer than most would assume

constantly checks up on you to make sure you’re ok as he fucks you senseless

“is this good?” he asks as he has you cumming for the 3rd time

takes a little pride in his accuracy to make you reach your climax especially since he’s not use to sex

once he discovers rope/bondage he reallyyyy enjoys it

loves biting! likes to see the marks he’s made on you the next day

has a thicker head, red, and is 6.5”

𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 !!

dom dom dom dom

of course knows your limits and is very encouraging about using your safe-word when things get to be too much

is sooooo into controlling your vibrator when out in public cause he loves watching your reactions as you try your best not to make a face

expect to be spanked later if you cum before he tells you too

switches between praising you and degrading you

“you’re such a good girl” to “pathetic, you can’t even take me all”

loves forcing you to deep throat him when he ties your hands up

edging KING! like edges you for hours by fingering you while you suck him off

will only fuck you after you’ve been really good and when he does oh god

he’s rough, fast, hitting your deepest spots after your body has become a sensitive mess after all the edging

AFTERCAAAAAARE!!!!! he only ever is rough solely so he can take care of you after all of it

bathes you, massages your entire body, makes you food, brings you plenty of water !!

he’s a little on a thin side, veiny, and 8”

𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 !!

a switch idc!!

he’s all tough on the outside but some days he just wants to give you all the control

let’s you fuck him!!!

a horny mess omg wants to fuck all the time! only bc he just loves having sex with you

does it anywhere and everywhere

really likes to fuck in the car or on top of tables/desks/counters

has the biggest creampie kink

probably eats you out after he’s finished inside of you too

buys you expensive ass lingerie all the time

loves to use his blindfold on you

when he’s in the mood to top, he’s all talk. constant yapping in your ear

“you’re so cute” “fuck i can feel you cumming” “you’re soaking wet are you gonna squirt?”

his fav position is either cowgirl or doggy

when he’s in the mood to bottom, he’s so needy and whiny!!!

“please let me cum” “more i need you more” “fuck me please god, please”

loves to be overstimulated when he lets you take control

like geto, he’s thinner until the base where he thickens up, veiny, 8”

𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 !!

bareback only!!

also has a breeding kink and his fav position is def mating press

but also really enjoys reverse cowgirl when he just gets to sit back and watch you fuck yourself on his cock

degrades you in the most positive way

“you’re a good little slut aren’t you?” “my whore” “you’re only good for taking my cock huh”

will spit in your mouth

has no shame, can and will ask you to blow him at any moment or finger you any time he wants

loves fucking you before he knows you’ve got to leave the house

likes the thought of you being all sticky and struggling to walk with his cum inside of you

is not super noisy but will grunt/groan when he’s feeling good

only time he ever really moans is when he’s cumming

has too much stamina and will make you cum several times before he ever cums once

likes to at least cum twice, once in your mouth and the second inside of you, but if you’re able to take him some more, he can def go way more than twice

will only eat you out if your thighs are crushing his head

is 100% an ass man

has it all!! thick & girthy, overall he’s just huge, red/flushed tip, and is at least 9”

[innerfare]

Mihawk Relationship Headcanons 

Summary: a random collection of Mihawk relationship headcanons

Genre: fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

He never imagined himself in a relationship. He’d had plenty of one night stands and situationships (he's notorious for allowing sexual tension to fester and never doing anything about it), but an actual relationship had always been off the cards. Until, that is, he met you. He didn’t really think too deeply about it, just started pursuing you. On some level, he knew he was putting you in danger, but he couldn’t stay away. 

Was definitely a victim of love at first sight. He fell first, and he fell harder. 

He is very secretive about his relationship with you, at first only visiting you in the dead of night and leaving before day break, appearing on your balcony like some sort of vampire or succubus. Shanks is the only person who knows about you, and he intends to keep it that way. 

Always brings you something- a bouquet of flowers, a bottle of wine, a piece of jewelry, a pastry he wants to share with you, a piece of lace, silk, or tulle he wants to see you in. Will also bring you books he thought you might like, souvenirs from far away lands, and even pieces of him to hold on to, such as his favorite dagger that now lives on your person (he spent an entire night teaching you how to use it and was ecstatic when you held it to his throat, definitely turned NSFW). Being in a relationship with him is basically like having tamed a wild animal that brings you dead mice he caught. TBH wouldn’t hesitate to bring you the severed head of an enemy if you so desired. 

Of course, he plays all of this off, either saying nothing or giving you a small lecture about how you needed that thing. “I happened to find a copy of that book you mentioned.” “I don’t suppose you have any use for this.” “I brought this vintage wine for myself but I suppose you can have some if you really want.” When he brings you flowers, he tells you it’s because your place is rather drab and if you won’t bother to liven it up, he’ll just have to do it for you (the man lives in a gloomy castle but shhh). When he brings you lingerie, he lays it on your bed without a word or says something along the lines of, “those panties you wore the last time were so cheap they chafed my skin. Wear these from now on.” Alludes to finding the jewelry he gives you in some sort of pirate horde he won’t go into detail on it since it’s in violation of his Warlord contract with the World Government, actually just purchases the pieces from various jewelers he meets on his travels; sometimes seeks out famous jewelers far off the beaten path if he thinks you’ll like that jeweler’s work.

Insists your relationship is not a relationship but is rather an affair. The sort of man to lie about cheating- not about not doing it, but about doing it so you don't get the impression he's committed to you. Won’t tell you he wants to be exclusive, but will yearn for it. Not good about communicating in general, very bad about just thinking things and hoping you’re thinking the same. 

For a long time, he didn’t even want you to come to the Muggy Kingdom for fear the Navy was watching him there and would find out about you. He also refused to speak to you over a transponder snail for fear they had tapped his. 

Never really warmed up to the idea of keeping you close but eventually grew so attached that he couldn’t stand to have you far away. Had no appetite if you weren’t at his table, couldn’t sleep if you weren’t in his bed, didn’t even want to take a shower if he couldn’t use your floral shampoo. Eventually, he convinced himself you were safer with him than without him, and that was that. 

Late nights cooking dinner (dinner is never before seven at Mihawk’s place). Afternoons gardening. Mornings spent discussing whatever’s in the newspaper. Evenings spent making out in the wine cellar because you went down to select a bottle for that night and got carried away. You sitting atop some ruins and watching him practice. Very domestic, but he hates that word. 

Won’t really tell you he loves you unless it’s a late night and he’s very drunk and you insist upon hearing it, certainly won’t admit to needing you, but will press a kiss into your hand and assure you he has deep affection for you. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[exhaslo]

Over-Time Ch16

(CEO!Miguel x Shy/Clumsy!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4,Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12, Ch13, Ch14, Ch15

Warning: MINORS DNI, SMUT, sexual thoughts, slow-burn, mentions of sex, bullying, cussing, fluff, touch starved, shower sex

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

You felt like you were in a movie.

Penthouses like this only existed there! Who would have thought that people truly lived in homes like this. For whatever reason, you thought Miguel would have a regular apartment like you.

You forgot that he was a CEO.

Miguel's bathroom felt nearly the size of your own little apartment. It was large and quiet fancy. Hell, he had a hot tub, a regular stone tub and a large, beautiful rainfall shower.

"Whoa, does your toilet speak too?" You asked, honestly curious at this point.

"Haha,"

Miguel burst into a small fit of laughter towards your cuteness. He took your hand and started to kiss you. Pressing you against the wall, Miguel reached his hand towards the shower, turning the water on with ease.

"Mhpm, Miguel~"

"Have another question?" Miguel asked as he took off his shirt.

You tried to say something, but Miguel captured your lips with another passionate kiss. His tongue exploring your mouth as his hands worked their magic. Your clothes slipping off with ease one after the other.

"W-What...mhm~ What d-desires...do you have?" You asked between kisses.

Miguel grunted softly as he took off the rest of your clothes. He took his off and pressed you against the shower wall...Water rolling down your skin.

"A family," Miguel groaned as he lifted you up, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist, "Kids of my own."

Your heart started to race as Miguel stared into your eyes. His harden dick rubbing against your dripping crotch. Your body grew hotter, feeling Miguel's growing sex drive. All it took was one sentence and you would be Miguel's all night.

"Hah, that's...sweet," You managed to say, wishing to have Miguel ravish your entire being, but not yet.

"After we deal with this mess, I'll make sure to fill you so much, (Y/N). I want you to have my babies," Miguel groaned lowly.

"I'd like that,"

Honestly, you couldn't think straight. The steam from the shower along with Miguel's kisses and grinding was fogging your brain. All you could focus on was his touch and how much you wanted him to fuck you.

Wrapping your arms around Miguel's neck, you whimpered and whined as he teased your aching hole. His dick just poking against it, begging for entrance.

Like a starved man, Miguel's kisses became rougher. His grip tighten as he lifted you slightly. Your body arched slightly as you felt Miguel begin to enter your body.

The pain soon subsided as you felt full. Miguel made his home inside you, making sure to fill you to the brim. You had gotten used to the size of Miguel's dick by now. Sure, it still made your brain fuzzy, but it felt so good.

Clenching against his dick, you whimpered a moan. Miguel understood as he started to move. Unsure if it was the shower or you, everything felt hotter. Miguel was able to thrust into you with ease, sending shivers up your spine.

Resting your head into his shoulder, you tried to hold onto Miguel, but you felt your body grow weak with every thrust. His tip hitting your cervix with each thrust into you. His dick stretching you out and making a home inside your cunt.

Miguel gripped your ass as he pumped into you. Every thrust getting rougher and quicker. Pressing you against the wall, Miguel started to grunt and moan in your ear as you kept squeezing his cock.

"Fuck, want you now, (Y/N)." Miguel hissed.

Your head was getting foggy and it was getting slightly hard to breathe from the steam. Feeling the pool of heat getting more intense, you cried out a loud moan as you cam from another thrust.

"Good girl,"

"M-Mig," You muttered.

Miguel grunted as he held your hips, giving you a few more pumps before unloading inside you. Inhaling deeply, you whined softly as you felt your womb filling up. Relaxing for just a moment, you gasped as Miguel bend you down, your ass towards him.

"Miiiig," You whined, your chest pressed against the wall.

"Just once more," Miguel whispered in your ear, sliding his dick inside you again, "My cute clumsy, (Y/N). So perfect, taking my dick so well."

"Mhm~"

"Taking such good care of me," Miguel kissed your shoulders as his hips slapped into yours, "For staying with me."

"Ah~ Miguel~" You cried out.

Your legs were shaking and your arms grew weak. The pleasure was overwhelming you. Biting your lower lip as Miguel kept kissing your back, you leaned forward as his hands played with your breasts.

His dick feeling like it went deeper with each balls deep thrust Miguel gave you. Your pussy clenching and sucking him in more, begging for more. You were at war with your own body, desperate for more pleasure.

"God, it's so tempting to make you mine now, (Y/N)." Miguel grunted, kissing your ear, "I promise to tell you everything."

--------

Miguel grunted softly as he looked down at your naked body. Water streaming down your sides as he kept thrusting into you. Your head resting against the shower wall as your moans grew sloppier and louder.

Chuckling softly, Miguel groaned as you cam once more against him. He held your body up before giving you a final few thrusts. His seed pouring into you once more.

"I love you, (Y/N)." Miguel whispered in your ear before giving you a gentle kiss.

Lifting you up gently, Miguel made sure to wash you thoroughly. Your peaceful expression making him feel better about confessing to you. To think he managed to have someone like you.

His precious little mouse.

Miguel was determined to protect you. Miguel was determined to make sure that you knew everything about him. Just the thought of you leaving him hurt. The thought of Dana hurting you boiled Miguel's rage.

"I won't let her ruin this."

Miguel grunted softly as he finished washing you, drying you and then putting on his pajamas on you. Once he put on his own pants, Miguel grabbed his phone and decided to make a few phone calls.

This was something worth fighting for.

You were worth fighting for.

Miguel was not going to let Dana win this. He was going to do everything in his power to make sure that the two of you stay together without worries.

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

Next Chapter

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[batmanisagatewaydrug]

To clarify,I don't believe in porn makes you evil and I don't believe in like fantasies are evil. I'm pulling this quote off Scarleteen "“If we aren’t both careful and creative we can get stuck in fantasies that don’t mature and politicize with us."" I'm also new to being about to vote, so I'm trying to be careful about what I consume and what stereotypes media perpetuate. Like I'm not moralizing about kink or anything, and my ask was how can I get aroused with media wo my kinks or wo media

hi anon, welcome back! I'm genuinely very glad to hear some follow up.

for anybody who doesn't stay vigorously up to date with all of my anons, this ask is a continuation of this one.

so I went and checked out the Scarleteen articles you mentioned in your first message, or at least I tried to. How to Approach Sexual Fantasies and Desire on Your Own Terms is here, and while I couldn't find anything with the exact title 50 Shades of Abuse, we do have 50 Shades of BS - How to Tell the Difference Between Kink and Abuse as well as 50 Shades Crappier: On Selling Abuse for Valentine's Day, both of which cover how the 50 Shades series isn't a great model of real, responsibly-practiced BDSM.

now, here's what I didn't see in any of these articles: an assertion that anybody needs to, as you've decided to do, avoid any work that depicts anything less than perfectly healthy sexual practices.

the closest we get to that is the quote by adrienne maree brown from How to Approach Sexual Fantasies, which you mention above. now, here's the thing: first of all, I actually disagree pretty substantially with brown's assertions that one's sexual fantasies need to "politicize." I know what my politics are; the fiction that I enjoy can't change that, because I don't have the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair. I actually just talked about that earlier today in another ask.

(also, and this may be an unpopular opinion, but adrienne maree brown is kind of a dork who doesn't really say much of anything in Pleasure Activism that Audre Lorde didn't already say better and more succinctly, and I personally lost interest in Pleasure Activism pretty much the moment she casually dropped that she practices reiki healing because that's a pseudoscientific alternative medicine that doesn't do shit or fuck. but I digress.)

listen, I'm not trying to peer pressure or bully you into watching anything you don't want to watch. your porn consumption is up to you. but what you're doing here is absolutely moralizing, I think maybe because of an underlying assumption that media that involves sex is just, like, innately different than any other type of media, which is in itself an idea that stems from sex negativity!

I don't know, let's just try to play out a little thought exercise here. like, would you consider it reasonable if somebody told you that they've decided not to read or watch anything that depicts problematic behavior because they don't want to normalize it. like, first of all, they're never watching anything but Bluey again. except actually not even Bluey because I just remembered about Bluey in the genocide, which actually makes for a great illustration of how nonsensical and impossible it is to try to only engage with media that is 100% ideologically pure.

and again: that's fine! that's literally fine! it is 100% okay to watch or read or play things with morals that don't totally 100% align with yours. it's okay to enjoy them, even. it's a lot healthier than trying to avoid upsetting or incongruous things entirely, because that gives you the chance to actually think about it rather than trying to shut it out entirely! that article actually provides an entire list of questions you can run through with yourself to critically analyze the things you watch if you feel so inclined! that's a much better skill to practice than avoidance!

I get that when you're new to sex, as you said in the previous ask, this might seem daunting, but your brain isn't just a sponge that will uncritically soak up and adopt anything you expose it to. you very clearly have the ability to research, differentiate between fiction and real life, and form your own opinions! and it is absolutely fine if you want to just watch porn with your kinks!

like, listen, I see what the question is, and the easiest answer is just. do whatever gets you off.

[sic-vita]

Good Omens final fifteen + Clues

my thoughts under the cut:

I finally finished ep 6 and while picking up the pieces of my broken heart, these are what I think are Clues (Aziraphale's voice):

"give me coffee or give me death" - there's such significance to the way Metatron asked the question, it simply cannot be a throwaway line, especially when he later asks Aziraphale "will you take it?" when handing him the coffee cup. He doesn't say "take it" or simply shoves it at him which would be typical of heaven, but he gives Aziraphale a choice (coffee or death) - in other words, Aziraphale makes the choice but under the threat of death (something Metatron knew he would do, because Nina says "they never choose death" and he says "how predictable" ie. he knew exactly how this would go down)

prior to this Aziraphale has never drunk coffee, only tea and alcohol. He doesn't understand why Crowley would drink coffee when he's already stressed. In other words, the coffee itself is forced on Aziraphale - it seems that he has a choice ("will you take it?") but is it really a choice if his other option is death?

At no point does Aziraphale say "yes" - even when he's walking back to Crowley he says "I don't know what to say" - he's nowhere as excited as he pretends to be the moment he enters the bookshop. In fact, the entire walk over (with the Metatron watching him carefully), he's pensive and deeply troubled, almost like walking to his doom (which clashes with the cheery, almost romantic music that plays here, which adds subtext to the situation, that all is not what it seems to be)

Aziraphale's expression the moment the Metatron brings Crowley up and issues his subtle threat ("irregular"); the way his lips thin and he swallows and he instantly knows what this is all about ("give me coffee OR give me death")

Aziraphale's many many looks out of the window after Crowley has left and his repressed grief and outrage that he quickly masks everytime he looks back at the Metatron. I don't think it's just heartbreak and wanting to go after Crowley - I think something else is going on

tldr: Aziraphale chose the coffee Metatron presented to him because the alternative was death (for him and/or Crowley) and he is furious. Aziraphale's comments on heaven and it being good etc. are not because he's still fixated on that ideology, but it's the only way Aziraphale saw them being safe and together (the other option: death). The tragedy is that Crowley saw Aziraphale making an active choice to take heaven over them being together - but he didn't see why Aziraphale was making that choice (and if it was a choice at all). Earlier, Crowley said "What does your exactly mean? I feel like your exactly and my exactly are different exactlys" - the way they have failed to communicate throughout the millennial (as pointed out by Nina and Maggie) comes to a head here - in this situation with the Metatron watching, Aziraphale can't communicate exactly what's going on, and Crowley doesn't understand what he means because they have not properly communicated before what their "together" means - "run off together" vs "we can be together, angels" are not afterall, different togethers - once again, they're trying to save each other so they can be together, but the methods are different and the perspectives are different (ie. Crowley knows about the book of life threat vs Aziraphale knows about the Metatron "irregular" threat and neither knows what the other fears)

[yeonbinwyd]

Can you do Heesung next? Thank you 🥹

of course!! rest of the hyung line next??

after party

pairing: sub fem!reader x softdom! heesung

synopsis: you had been friends with Heesung for some time. You always felt there was sexual tension between you two but he wouldn’t admit it. After one night out for an event turns into too much drinking, the truth comes out.

genre (w/tags): smut, minors dni, breeding kink, romantic?, mentions of alcohol.

a/n: I personally think heesung would be the biggest baby when drunk and begs for attention being all needy.

Word count: 1127

“Whats up with your phone? You’ve been blowing up all night.” You were at dinner with your best friend. She had asked in an irritated tone. “It’s just a friend. He’s super drunk right now and he wants to meet up” you explain.

“He??? Wants to meet up” she’s now intrigued.

“Stop he’s just a friend. I think he just needs some support. “ you continued. She pursed her lips together and shook her head. He was lucky you both were warping up dinner and were about to go separate ways. You two spilt the bill and went off your own ways. He had been in front of a boba shop that still open, hands in pockets, leaning against a bike rack. He was bright red, trying to cover his face until he saw you.

“Heeey” he coos “I’m so glad to see you! Let’s get some boba and something to eat! I’m starving.” Heesung requests throwing his arm over your shoulder. He puts his weight on you, standing over you. Managing him while drunk was going to be tough.

You listened to his request and got him his favorite tea with something solid to eat. When you brought them back to him, he was beyond excited, he even kissed your cheek.

“You’re a life saver! Thank you!! “ he doesn’t waste any time and takes them both in. You both sit outside since he was being obnoxiously loud but it was the one thing you really enjoyed about him.

“You know you’re the only one I really trust when I’m like this.”

He confesses. You’re not surprised since you haven’t drank once during the entire time of their friendship.

“I’m so glad you’re in my life.” He adds while taking a bite of his chicken. With furrowed brows you glance back at your phone, shoving off his comment. He scoots closer beside you.

“I mean it” he whispers in your ear, wrapping his arm around your waist. You can’t take him seriously and laugh in his face.

“You can’t be for real right?

“You don’t think I can be serious?” He asks while giving the saddest eyes.

“Not in the slightest. At least not while you’re drunk. “ you set him straight but he doesn’t want to give up. Heesung scoots even closer, leaning in to kiss your lips. You let him, tasting the taro tea he had been drinking lingering on his mouth. He cups your face, trying to deepen the kiss but you pull away.

“No wait” you stop him.

“Too much?” He backs away to give you space.

“No I like it. ” without a second thought, you grab his hand, causing him to leave his snacks where you two were sitting. You two get in the backseat of your car and continue the kiss. He smirks while pressing his lips on yours, feeling victorious. Heesung hugs your hips making you to sit on his lap. His kisses turn into little nibbles, caressing your collar, nuzzling in your neck. His glorious moans.

“I really feel at home with you.” He admits hugging you snug. You give him a shy smile but he can’t see you in the dark backseat. You grab his chin, smiling into the kiss. Heesung takes the hint and holds you closer. Him being drunk have him the courage to make a move. He just wanted to gush his feelings for you nonstop.

I can’t stop thinking about you.

I want you to be mine.

Can we be together?

All thoughts of his running through his head. As his tongue dominates the kiss, he starts to shed off his clothes, while you do the same. You take off your shirt, exposing your breasts to him. His eyes widen in excitement. Heesung rotates your hips to grind against him. Throwing his head back, exposing his Adams apple, he moans lowly. He grinds back, forcing you to groan in return. He starts to bury his face in your chest while placing kisses, worshiping them.

“Can I fuck you baby?” He begged, face still red and flush.

“Please” you beg in return. You get off his lap to have him undo his pants. His hard on, soaked in pre cum was ready for you. Lifting up your skirt then shifting your panties to the side, you glide down. You were equally as wet, wanting him for so long too. You cry out at his massive girth causing you to not move yet. Concerned, Heesung places kisses on your cheek.

“Take your time” he instructs. You don’t give up and prop your hands on his shoulders. He leans back against the car seat, as you take control. As you ride him, he looks almost in tears, overwhelmed with the pressure he’s received. He grips your hips, helping you move up and down. Each move, bringing him closer and closer. He spreads your ass cheeks for a better hold. It makes you even feel even better than before. Your eyes rolling back, nails digging into his skin, leaving indents, he feels so good you don’t want to stop.

“That’s it you’re doing well” he encourages. He loves looking up at you, taking his cock like a champ. He knew you were the one, it solidified it for him. He laid you flat on your side, lifting your leg up to get in better. He grunts as he enters, feeling overwhelmed with pleasure again. Heesung hugs your thigh, while thrusting in you. He sinks himself into your neck, close to your ear. He feels himself getting deeper and closer.

“I’m keeping you. You’re mine now.” He demands as his strokes become stronger and out of control. You can feel his cock hitting your cervix. He whines lowly while his cum begins to pour out. You can feel him feeling you up but he doesn’t stop there. Heesung lays you flat, with both legs over his shoulders. He takes you in again.

“Make me cum again baby. Make me cum for you.” He commands as he doesn’t lose his pace. You just trying to catch your breath. You panting and wipe the sweat from Heesung’s forehead. Infatuated with you, he kisses your lips, biting down as you both groan for each other.

“I’m close baby. Cum for me” you request.

“Yes I’ll do whatever you want.” He goes so fast that he makes you squirt on the two of you. He cums violently after. He holds onto, not wanting to let go and pull out. Heesung lays his head on your chest in the most needy way. Covered in sweat he helps you get dress and glances at the time. At this point the fucking made him sober up.

“So we should talk huh?” He brings up.

[moonlight-prose]

wip wednesday!

note: thank you my darlings @eupheme & @guiltyasdave!! i've got way too many fics i'm hammering away at. but i'll share a snippet from an old man logan one i was working on last night.

the vastness between all that can be seen

"Whiskey on the rocks," you said, voice soft and sweet and Logan felt his cock twitch hard. Shame leaked into his stomach, dropping to the bottom like lead at the base of the ocean.

He rapped two fingers on the bar, pushing his drink forward as the bartender slid a similar crystal glass in your direction. The burn of your stare was obvious. Logan practically flinched as you trailed your eyes down his body, stopping to ogle the side of his face. And if he was a younger man he'd already be smiling.

Hell, if he was a younger man he'd already be fucking you in the bar of the bathroom. Stuffing his fingers in your mouth to gag the pretty little sounds he knew you would make for him.

But two hundred years left him weary at the thought of garnering your attention.

He felt the urge to snap at you. Ask you to kindly fuck off and find someone else. There was no doubt a number of other men who would happily nip at your heels for a sliver of your attention.

Logan wasn't sure why that thought burned the inside of his chest - his claws itching to slide free even in their sluggish state. But he locked it away in the back of his mind, fearful of the answer that his heart would give him.

Much to his surprise, you downed the whiskey in your glass in one go. Dropping it to the bar with a small cough that had his lips curving - his finger tapping the side of his own drink. He hadn't even gotten a good look at you and he could already feel his heart begin to stir in his chest. Causing a ruckus in his body strong enough to leave him winded.

"I'd ask if you come here often, but that might be cheesy." Fuck you sounded like sunshine on a warm spring day. Logan bit down on the inside of his cheeks to keep from groaning - his body aching for him to stop being so goddamn stubborn.

"I'm here with some friends."

He met your kindness with a wall of silence. Entirely unaware that your stubbornness would soon be the start of his downfall.

You grinned, propping your chin in your hand. "And I happened to notice you."

Maybe if he got up and left you'd get the fucking hint to keep away from men like him. Men who's minds were mangled and torn apart. Men who would only leave you tear stained and bruised after a night of harsh fucking. Men who couldn't give you what you were so clearly looking for.

tagging the lovelies: @ovaryacted @sunflowersteves @superhoeva @cavillscurls @joelsgoldrush @pennyserenade

[moodymisty]

Hi! I would like to request a continuation of the alpharius (omegon) party fic, if it hasn't been requested already ofc ofc. I'd love to see them make good on their "promises". Thank you!!!

Part 1

Author's note: :3

Relationships: AlphariusOmegon/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Alpharius/reader/Omegon sandwich, Light degradation, Double penetration, Anal, Dubcon

The party has proven more entertaining than you thought it would be, much to your surprise.

High ranking officers and all other sorts of a high stature pack around primarchs and a scattered few space marines, most of which of the latter are making themselves scarce- aloof in various corners. They aren't the most talkative lot; Other than perhaps the occasional Space Wolf. A few are sitting however- like the Imperial Fist across from you.

While you have no idea his name and you'll very likely never see this man again, the way he is tearing into the food in front of him will forever sear itself into the deepest parts of your mind. He tears into the meat and veg like an hellacious, wild animal; Shoving it into his mouth like it's little more than out of the pouch nutrient paste. Sauce and meat and blood collects in the corners of his mouth, before he gives you a glance like you're the odd one at this banquet table.

It is... A sight.

To watch men far smarter and stronger than any of which you could hope to be chew through meat- and what you presume was just bone judging by that crunch and the way his jaw flexed- like this is the last meal he'll ever have the luxury of shoving down his scientifically designed astartes pre-stomach.

"Are you at least paying attention?"

You turn away from the mess of a man across from you, who has been locking eyes with you for a good minute now, and look up at Alpharius; He watches you with both an expectant and amused expression. You compose yourself and abandon the shock and awe, nodding to him as you adjust the way your dress lays on your thighs.

“I am.”

He smiles, effortless and composed.

“Good girl. I trust that you are.”

It’s been a long evening; Far too much talking for your liking, far too much pretending. Alpharius thrives in it- you struggle to keep up with the web of lies they've tangled around each and every primarch that you have to navigate like a bug desperately trying not to get stuck. Alpharius at times lets it slip that he believes Omegon isn't as good with these extremely front facing plays, and that is why whenever there is galas and parties and dances, you're always with Alpharius.

'I will take her.'

Alpharius is blunt, gesturing for you to come closer. You watched as Omegon curls his lip.

'You don't trust me with as simple of a task as bringing her to get her dress fitted?'

Alpharius stares down his other half and you watch caught in the middle of both of them; And in that moment you realized perhaps they aren't as good at sharing as you'd originally thought.

'You know well that all this talking is more my thing. You stay and keep our men in order.'

Omegon stared at his brother, words unsaid, before giving in for the time being and letting go of your shoulder.

When the party begins to wind down into it's conclusion, you return to The Alpha with haste once Alpharius bids his fellow primarchs goodbye and slips away into the cold and windy evening.

The short flight back to The Alpha which sat moored in Terra's atmosphere was quiet, but the entire time you could feel Alpharius' eyes on you. Whenever you looked up at him however, questioning, he gave nothing but the smallest smile.

Alpharius had liked this dress on you, he'd said; The sleeves draped over your wrists, shining almost like the scales of their armor. The skirt fell to the floor in a small pool, and only a small slit up the side revealed a bit of skin. It was one of your favorite dresses now; Delicate while matching their armor with a formal coldness.

He preferred it on the floor, however.

Tossed aside with the rest of your clothes like little more than garbage as your writhe in his lap, teasing your body as his fingers curled inside of you.

One hand taps on your bottom lip, playing with it until he pushes your chin to make your jaw go slack, and he presses his thumb against your tongue.

“You always play your part so perfectly. You are just my dumb little beloved, aren’t you?”

Alpharius smirks at your expression as your eyes dart across his face, mouth muffled by his fingers as you try to speak up in defense of yourself.

“Don't worry; I only tease,”

You hear the door open behind you, and Omegon comes in. Any attempt to move or hide the embarrassingly open position Alpharius has you in is rendered moot before it even begins. He does at least have the decency to remove his fingers from your mouth so you no longer gape stupidly like a whorish fish, however.

“Ahh, brother. You got my vox. Come join us, she's ready.”

Omegon needs no convincing and quickly comes to join you, slipping behind you to put his face into your neck. You feel the fabric of his clothing against your skin as the rough touch of his lips trails along the vein of your neck.

“Did you enjoy yourself down there?”

He says, and you can already hear the rustling as he moves to free himself from his trousers. His cock hits the small of your back- heavy and hot. It only takes him rubbing it against you a few times feeling the way his precum slicks against your skin before he already getting hard. He raises a hand to your mouth, two fingers, and roughly presses them against your lips.

“Suck.”

You have no choice but to allow them in, covering his digits in your spittle before he removes them with a wet pop.

Alpharius meanwhile can feel your palms against his chest as your cunt leaks all over his hand, clenching around his fingers as they push into that soft, sweet spot at the front of your walls.

"It went well enough."

Omegon's hands drift downward, and Alpharius notes how much tighter you get around his fingers the moment Omegon slips his fingers past the tight ring of your ass. You keen in this adorable way, gasping as he pushes past your clenching muscles.

Always his preferred; He rarely complains about not being the one in the wet heat of your puffy cunt. An amusing happenstance.

"And you?"

You swallow a knot in your throat and nod jerkily, whimpering as both of them ruthlessly tease you open wider for them. Alpharius can tell from the way you’re whining and clenching around him that you're about to cum again, pursing your lips tight. Your clit is throbbing, and there’s an ache in your stomach that feels about to explode.

"It, It was a b-bit boring, but,"

Your sentence trails off in a shiver as you finally cum and choke on your words, a noise that Alpharius almost laughs at. Your thighs shake however, feeling him scissor his fingers inside of you even as you spasm through the aftershocks and coat his palm in your sticky release.

Nearly limp and already struggling to hold yourself up right in defense of the both of them, Alpharius decides to pick you up by the hips and ignore the way you gasp and hold on to him as the safely of the bed is left behind.

It also makes it possible for both of them to fuck you; As given your drastic difference in height, you on your knees is still not high enough for their hips to meet at your own.

Your knees hook over his arms- leaving your body dangling between the two primarchs. The lack of control makes your heart race faster, the instinctive fear of falling, but his hold on you is nothing short of suffocating as you hang pressed firmly between them exactly where they want you. You have no say in it- like you're little more than a warm toy for them to use.

Omegon goes first; Sliding his cock along your folds and feeling his shaft get coated in your juices before notching it against your ass. He slowly pushes in and listens to you whine, gasping as your hands desperately reach for something to hold on to as his cockhead pops past your tight entrance. You settle on trying to grip Omegon's arms, squeaking as he reaches almost halfway inside of you and his cock starts burying its way deeper. When he’s halfway it feels like too much, it always does, and you whimper pleading for mercy you know he won’t give.

"O-Omegon, p-please,"

Your throat catches on your words as he's almost bottomed out inside of you, the fat base of his cock pushing your to your absolute limit. Your grimace, feeling him heavy in your gut. You feel his balls press against your ass and you know he’s full buried to the hilt, your body shivering as your body tries to clench around the intrusion.

You barely have time to breathe- not that you have much room to do so in the small space between them- as Alpharius slides his cockhead through your folds before prodding your entrance, watching you whimper before he pushes and easily slips inside your dripping hole. The moment his cock starts stretching you even wider than his fingers did you squeal, and Alpharius delights at being the one to be able to see as your eyes widen and threaten to roll back in your head.

There's barely any room in your pelvis as he pushes deeper, feeling how much tighter your cunt is with Omegon already buried in you. You thrash, hips twitching as he pushes and pushes and pushes deeper until the tip of his cock snugly fits in the tight space just against your cervix. You tighten around him, feeling the stretch of your muscles struggling to try and accommodate.

Omegon eagerly follows your writhing movements, the slight bit of friction making his cock twitch inside of you as his hips instinctually want to thrust into you.

With both of them fully sheathed inside of you words are lost on you, panting incoherently as your nails dig into Omegon's skin and you haplessly pant and your hips roll with no particular goal.

You can't tell if you want to beg them to stop, or if you want them to push deeper.

It’s just too fucking much.

"Too full?"

Alpharius jokes, listening to you hiccup as tears threaten to break your waterline.

The twins don't normally do this often; They rarely are in the same place for long, and sometimes, one of them just wants you all to himself. Omegon in particular has less time with you, and often wants to have you all to himself.

Those times are when he's particularly beast-like.

Alpharius also likes to joke that this is only a reward. That if they always give you this much cock, you'll get greedy.

Your head lolls back against Omegon's chest, jaw slack and bottom lip loosely caught between your teeth as your face overheats like the burning fire of a kiln. Your eyes are glassy and unfocused, waterline filled with tears, moaning only their names incoherently. Alpharius controls the pace they fuck you by lowering you up and down on their cocks, and the pace he chooses is brutal. Your head lolls back and forth, chest bouncing, whimpering incoherently. You hear the salacious sounds of skin slapping skin and the wet sloshing of your soaked cunt, Alpharius whispering the filthiest of things while Omegon grunts and ruts into your ass like an animal.

You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to function normally after them- each time you feel like they’ve rearranged your innards to never work quite the same again.

“It seems even you aren’t meant to handle two Primarchs,”

Alpharius teases, as your lower legs bounce limply- hanging over his forearms as he fucks you. Omegon huffs hot air against your neck, leaning forward to nip at your ear and listen to the way you whine so weakly.

“Most can’t handle one.”

Alpharius hums, taking Omegon’s words into account as he slides you up and down their cocks. Your clit throbs painfully and each pulse as you tightening around them, and each time Alpharius drops you down on his cock you feel his cockhead knock against the softness right before your cervix.

“A-Alphar-Al-pharius,”

You slur his name almost drunk, stomach churning and tightening like a knot of ropes in your gut. You feel so full- too full, every time it’s like they’ve pushed you past some limit somewhere inside of you and broke you just that little bit more.

Alpharius drops you down on his cock hard and you squeal as Omegon pushes upward digging even deeper somehow, feeling your every muscle tense around him even after your ass has been bullied enough into giving up and allowing his intrusion.

“O-Omegon!”

He groans at the sound of you saying his name, his hands on your chest brushing over your skin.

You feel him cum, the raw heat of it fills your gut with an overwhelming, swollen feeling. The pressure of it finally causes you to cum again, weakly crying out and leaning back against him. Your hips squirm as much as they can in Alpharius’ firm grip, and you feel the swollen heaviness as Omegon’s cock keeps all of it inside of you. You swear you can feel each pulse and twitch as he lets out yet another string of cum into you.

Alpharius shifts a bit to continue driving his cock into you while holding you still as Omegon settles in his afterglow, thrusting his cock deeper into you. He feels the spasms of your walls as you shake, sobbing in an overwhelming amount of nearly painful sensation as Alpharius fucks you through it all.

“You really are the perfect little thing,”

He grunts out breathlessly, clearly close. You feel his balls hit your ass over and over and over and you manage to focus your eyes enough to see the light flush that has overtaken his face.

“I… I’m glad you decided to keep you.”

Alpharius finishes moments later, and you feel the heat pulsing through you as he fills your cunt. You’re so tight around his cock you can feel each pulse, listening to him groan as he fills you to the brim.

Filled with cum to an absolutely egregious degree, only once they pull their cocks from you do fat beads of cum slip out and drip down your thighs in a disgustingly erotic display. It stains the blankets below, though the thought of that isn't even close to crossing your mind.

Honestly, not much is crossing your mind at all, other than the ache in your body and the way you hang limp in Alpharius’ arms, ass and pussy both bullied open and leaking a mixture of cum, spit and your own juices. Your legs are still hooked over his forearms and dangling useless, exposed for either of them to observe their work as your cunt and ass look puffy, sore, and well used.

“You should really reconsider what I said awhile ago,” Alpharius speaks to Omegon as if he isn’t holding what once was a human but now serves as a cum stuffed fuck toy in his arms. Omegon grunts in response.

“We don’t have the time for lavish things like that-“

Alpharius rolls his eyes, watching as your head leans against Omegon’s collarbone, and each noise you let out is hoarse and sore.

“You’ll reconsider.”

[gilverrwrites]

yknow, something about dick grayson—golden boy, beloved, etc—falling for the forgotten sionis!reader feels entirely poetic for both of them that I love it so much

Dick Grayson/Sionis!Reader [Post in reference] gah yeah I love them, I'm so glad ya'll are seeing my vision! 💙 Like you said, theirs just something so ✨ about them

Here's a 1000 of fluff/Dick being a simp just cause I was thinking about them today. Like, they're getting ready for their first public event since they told their families; you're so nervous about seeing your father again since he’d snapped at you, telling you (to paraphrase from Roman’s much more colourful language:) no daughter of his would date a Wayne and he didn’t want to see you again until you'd come to you senses, which Dick thought was awfully rich from a man who barely made an effort to see his daughter anyway.

That night Dick is in a bad mood. He hasn’t really enjoyed these functions in years, of late he’d only ever made the effort to go when Bruce had asked him to; the silver lining always being that he might catch a glimpse of you. But you’d insisted on going tonight in order to keep up appearances. It drives him mad that even after everything they put you through, even after they’ve practically cut you out, you’re still trying so hard to please them. Him. Roman. He never deserved you for a daughter, none of them deserved you. But it’s not his call to make, he said he’d support you, whatever your decision and he wholeheartedly intends to keep that promise.

He's adjusting his bowtie in the warped reflection of the toaster for the fourth time when you emerge from the bedroom in a dress he hasn’t seen before, and trust that he remembers every dress he’s ever seen you in. It stops him mid-fold, compelling him to twist on the spot to soak you in. It’s mesh, with a tasteful amount of sparkle, a whole lot of delicate embroidery and it’s a very familiar shade of deep blue to boot.

“Is that new?” He asks, unable to stop his mouth from falling open.

“Um, kinda. New to me. Clarissa from wardrobe let me borrow it.” You explain as you give him a perfectly posed twirl, offering him a better look. The tulle skirt rises as you do so, like you’re his very own fairy princess. “Do you like it?”

“Clarissa from wardrobe.” He muses dreamily as he strides closer, stretching his arms out toward you. You reach back for him, but he dodges your embrace, locking his hands on your waist and hoisting you into the air for another spin. “Remind me to repay her with our firstborn.”

Despite his good humour and admiration. Dick is now actually in a worse mood. You’ve been so stressed the last few days. He both hates and understands how you allow your family to have that kind of power over you. He hates that he has to share you with a room full of pompous old men, and a family that can’t see past their own noses, and now has to do it while you look like that. While all he really wants to do is take you to a real dance hall, or a magic forest full of talking woodland creatures, or hell, back into the bedroom.

“So, that’s a yes?” Your voice is high and giggly as he drops you back onto the floor. Holding tight still, he brings you close to his chest, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck and planting kisses along your collar. This is the most relaxed he’s seen you all day and he wants to make the most of it. Instinctively, your soft hands travel up his back, resting on his shoulders, and he can’t help but rock your bodies side to side as he continues to speckle his affections along your chest.

“Like it, I love it!” He murmurs into your warm skin. You haven’t put on your perfume yet, he can tell. He likes the aroma of your chosen fragrance, but even more, he loves your natural scent, and he relishes it as he works his way up your neck until you’re face to face once more. It’s you who kisses him, decisively planting your soft, painted lips on his and causing him to stop his sway in its tracks. When you pull back and look at him with your brilliant eyes, through those soft lashes, he can’t help but blurt his mind. “Are you sure you want to go to this thing?”

“Oh.” You hesitate, and it’s answer enough but he lets you finish anyway. “Yes… I’m not giving up on my family, or you.”

Your determination is endearing, commendable, and hopefully not as futile as he believes. Accepting Black Mask as his future father-in-law may not be easy, but if you mend that bridge, he’ll make it work. Whatever way he has to. He thinks this as he watches you retract from his arms, he doesn’t let you go however, holding onto your hand and following you back into the bedroom.

You settle at your vanity, clearing up your makeup and Dick crouches behind you. The side of his head rests against yours as he watches your face in the mirror. You try to swat him away, presumably to make whatever finishing touches you need to your make-up, but he refuses to go, grinning ear to ear as he dodges your beauty blender.

Eventually, you give up, starting on the other side instead. He sticks his tongue out in triumph, and you roll your eyes at him despite your begrudging smile.

You turn away from him to search your drawers for something and he notices the top button of your dress has come undone. His touch is gentle as he strokes the back of his knuckle from your nape, down to the hem of the dress, and he grins to himself when his finger evokes a serene sigh from you.

“Welp…” He starts, but you're barely with him, losing yourself to his caress. Your pretty lips jut out in a pout when he halts in order to refasten your button. “Welp, if you change your mind, and wanna go for ice cream on the pier, or, well, do anything else instead; the code is ‘fuck this, let's get out of here’.”  

Your pout does not subside, even as he resumes massaging the stress from your muscles. Not until he leans in to kiss your shoulder blade and promises; “Whatever you decide, I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

[asiantransformations]

A Fitting Power-Up

Wei Xun had always been a man of discipline. A Chinese Malaysian fitness influencer, he had built his life around maintaining the perfect physique. Hours spent in the gym, sticking to strict diets, and an intense daily routine had earned him the admiration of millions of followers online. His body—bulging biceps, perfectly sculpted abs, and legs that could press twice his body weight—was a testament to his dedication. But despite all his hard work, he yearned for something more: the stamina, strength, and power that would make him truly unbeatable, something beyond the limits of human potential.

One day, while visiting an ancient temple in the outskirts of Malaysia, Wei Xun encountered a monk renowned for his mystical abilities. The monk, an old man with wise eyes and a quiet, almost otherworldly presence, could sense Wei Xun’s desire for physical perfection.

“Your body is strong, but your spirit still searches for more,” the monk said, his voice like a whisper carried by the wind.

Wei Xun, intrigued by the monk’s insight, nodded. “I’ve worked hard to get where I am, but I want to push beyond my limits—to have the strength, power, and stamina no one else has. I want to be invincible.”

The monk studied him for a long moment, then gestured for him to follow. They walked deeper into the temple grounds, where the monk stopped in front of a shrine. From behind the shrine, the monk retrieved an ancient scroll and a pair of simple black sneakers, worn but well-kept.

“These shoes,” the monk said, “can give you what you seek. They will amplify your strength, increase your stamina, and grant you unrivaled power every time you wear them. But the blessing comes with a price.”

Wei Xun’s eyes widened as the monk continued.

“These shoes will channel the energy of the universe into your muscles, your body, and your spirit. You will be more powerful, more virile, more tireless than ever before. However, should another person wear them, the blessing will transfer to them entirely for as long as they wear them. You will lose everything: your power, your strength, your stamina, and even your body itself.”

The weight of the monk’s words settled heavily on Wei Xun’s shoulders. He stared at the shoes, tempted by the power they promised. But the risk was clear—if anyone else wore these shoes, he would lose it all. Still, the lure of the strength they offered was too great to resist.

Wei Xun agreed.

The monk nodded solemnly and began a ritual. He chanted softly under his breath, and as he did, the air around them seemed to shift. Wei Xun watched as the monk dipped his fingers into a small bowl of water, tracing ancient symbols over the shoes. The atmosphere grew heavy with energy, as if the very essence of the temple was being drawn into the sneakers.

Once the blessing was complete, the monk handed the shoes to Wei Xun. “Wear them with caution. The power is yours as long as you guard them wisely.”

From that day on, Wei Xun’s workouts became extraordinary. Every time he wore the blessed sneakers, he felt his muscles surge with unstoppable power. His strength seemed endless—he could lift heavier weights than ever before, and his stamina during workouts became almost superhuman. He could run for miles, train for hours, and still have energy left to spare. His body, already impressive, became even more chiseled and powerful, his muscles bulging with newfound vigor. His virility seemed boundless, and the energy that radiated from him was magnetic, drawing even more admiration from his growing fanbase.

But Wei Xun didn’t take any chances. He knew the danger that came with the shoes. He kept them hidden, locking them in a secure, custom-made safe in his home. The only time he took them out was when he needed an extra boost—whether it was for a critical workout, a fitness competition, or an event where his strength and stamina needed to be unmatched. No one knew of their existence, and he made sure it stayed that way.

Every time he put on the sneakers, he felt the surge of energy flow through him, an unstoppable force that made him feel invincible. But the memory of the monk’s warning always lingered in the back of his mind. He knew that as long as he kept the shoes safe, the power would remain his. But should anyone else ever wear them, everything he had worked for would be gone.

And so, Wei Xun continued to rise in the fitness world, his body a symbol of perfection and strength, his stamina unmatched by anyone. But hidden beneath the surface of his success was the secret of the sneakers—the power they held and the risk that came with them.

Every time he locked them away after a workout, he felt a sense of relief. They were his secret weapon, but they were also his greatest vulnerability. And he knew that as long as he kept them under lock and key, no one would ever take his power away.

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

This is also me shamelessly submitting another request alongside my very NSFW one: could we get Raphael being there while Tav gives birth?

Tav paced back and forth, hands resting on her swollen belly. Each time a contraction tore through her she would grimace, bend forward as much as possible, and bear it with whatever dignity she scrounged up. When the pain passed, she’d resume pacing.

“Mistress,” said the Infernal physician, “perhaps you should lay down -”

“No,” barked Tav. “I don’t want to lay down.”

“So you intend to wear a trench into my floors instead?” Drawled Raphael.

“Yes,” replied Tav, glaring daggers at him.

“Mistress,” the physician tried again, “it would be easier for both you and the child if you -”

“I’m not bloody laying down,” growled Tav. “I’ve been laying down for the last three months of pregnancy. I need to move around or I’m going to cut this baby out of my stomach myself.”

“You won’t change her mind,” Raphael said lightly, “she’s a stubborn creature. She’ll do things her way until she simply cannot any longer.”

The physician sighed, rubbing her eyes.

Tav’s waters had broken several hours ago – much to poor Haarlep’s horror. Raphael was away on business at the time, but as soon as word reached him that his first offspring was about to be born, he’d burst back into the house, physician in tow. The birthing room had been ready for a few days, Tav slightly exceeding her due date, so the three had sequestered inside. Now it was simply a waiting game. The physician hovered nearby. Raphael sat in a plush, comfy chair, seeming to all the world as indifferent and relaxed as usual. Only the occasional twitch of his tail gave away his potential anxiety.

It felt like the entire House of Hope, even every wailing soul within the walls, were holding their breaths. Teetering on the edge of anticipation for the ushering in of a new era: the birth of a prince.

“Ah…!” Tav stopped in her tracks. Hissed as fresh, furious pain wracked her. Different, sharper than before. It didn’t fade. “I think…argh, I think he’s coming…!”

The physician touched Tav’s belly, felt lower, between her thighs. “Yes. You’re open enough. I feel his head. You need to get into the water.”

The physician helped Tav out of her sweat-soaked nightdress and in to the bathing pool of hot water. Raphael watched intently, his onyx and ember eyes never blinking, as Tav – teeth gritted – eased herself into a sitting position, knees up and apart. The water and its soothing magic helped, but the baby wanted out, now. Demanding, just like his father, and damn was she feeling it.

“Gods…he finally decides he’s ready and he’s just going to…to rip right through me…” Tav panted. Curled her fists. Cried out as a violent contraction signalled the end, and the beginning.

“Start pushing,” instructed the physician. Tav groaned, a sound that morphed into a dull scream. Raphael stood up, crossed the room, standing close. His tail thrashed wildly but his expression remained neutral. Tav gave him a foul, pained look.

“This is your fault,” she snarled, slapping her palms on the sides of the bath. “I’ll kill you for this, I swear it.”

“Of course you will, darling,” purred Raphael.

He was not indifferent to her suffering, she knew. Part of him enjoyed it. That she was agonising to bring their – his – son into life only made her pain taste sweeter. It was the simple truth of Raphael’s nature. Something Tav had accepted long ago. Birthing this baby was the scariest thing she’d ever done, scarier than coming to terms with how she felt for a diabolical devil, that she was willing to give him her soul and her heart. Even facing down the Netherbrain didn’t compare. She was hurting and she was frightened, but Raphael was there, strong and assured and steady, and Tav knew she could get through it.

Not without one Hell of a fuss, however.

“GET THIS DAMN THING OUT OF ME!” She bellowed between screams.

“Keep pushing!” Yelled the physician.

“What do you think I’m doing?!” Tav roared back.

“Push, Tav,” Raphael intoned. Commanded. “Let our son’s life begin.”

Eventually, amidst the blood and pain and chaos, it did. A wrinkled, wet and wailing infant was placed on Tav’s chest and she, exhausted and delirious, loved him instantly and irrevocably.

“Healthy,” declared the physician, “and strong. Very strong.”

Tav tiredly adjusted her baby, who latched onto her nipple and began to suckle. His thin, ropey little tail curled. Raphael looked down at them, smug and preening with pride. He would never be the type to offer her his hand to squeeze for comfort, or become overly emotional and adoring of his new son, but he was there. He stayed. And those things mattered more to Tav than her pride would ever let her admit.

[destinationtrekk]

young wesker who gets drunk and giggly with reader. at first he had been so... cold, so expressionless and absolutely cluelessly bone-dry on how to go about doing anything but a daylight two-step move-his-arms-a-little to the dance music blaring from somewhere, but that's okay, reader can show him.

and he enjoys it... and he's laughing, and his face is flushed, and the scent of vodka is deep on his tongue, and he has severely miscalculated his drink, but that's okay, because reader keeps him safe and happy and distracted the entire time.

at the end, as he begins to sober up, they can't seem to get out of him where he's supposed to go to now (perhaps he is trying to revel in it, this one normalcy, just one event he took on to learn how to behave like everyone else and got taught more about himself and his own interests than he'd ever planned, a snapshot of a life he could have lived if only--) so they take him back to their house and snuggle him up in a blanket burrito on the couch, making him drink water, take an advil, a tylenol.

and as he gets back to himself and they smoke a cig, talking about life as he gets rather quiet and inward again (for he cannot share, he has nothing positive or appropriate to), they do something unexpected and yet wholly welcome, a gift to close out the night: they give him a quick, brief and fleeting shotgun kiss, hand warm on his cheek, before they send him off for a nap, telling him to stay the night so he'll be well and sober the next day to depart. free breakfast if he's still around by then, otherwise, they take no offense.

he has no way of telling them the truth of this fragile matter. he has no way of divulging his life, which would undoubtedly ruin whatever scrapbook memory he is currently creating, and certainly no way to hold onto this awfully pleasant being who he can, apparently, trust in his total ineptitude with heavy inebriance. and he can't keep seeing them again after this. and his view on how ruthless and manipulative human beings are when faced with vulnerability has been shaken to its' core, and he can't say it, and he wants to, but...

instead he asks them to stay a little while he falls asleep (just one final, little test, he muses to himself), and they oblige. he's laid on the couch, head in their lap, his (admittedly not quite so soft after all the gel has hardened) hair being carded through by soft, ever-eager, sleepy fingers. he will never get a moment like this again and he pushes himself to take it in, revel in every second that passes, commit to absolute memory (no matter what he had earlier in the day) every detail of this sightly, sweetly saint's face.

he ends up falling asleep feeling cherished. he will remember this day forever. years to come he will still have tabs on this person, and their life will still be unexpectedly, oddly lucky.

maybe one day he'll find it in him to thank them properly, face-to-face...

nshtn can i say i love you? because i love you and every time you come in my inbox i get so excited

first and foremost i don't think he even would dance at a party. he very much is the kind of guy to find a spot and linger there with a group he's only half listening to. once he meets you though his night gets much much more interesting

he's never really had chances to drink, except maybe whiskey or something expensive with Spencer during their talks about Umbrella and the future, so when you start handing him all kinds of seltzers and mixed drinks and straight shots of vodka, he is very overwhelmed

he can't show it though! so he dutifully takes most of what you hand him, a few drinks are two sweet for him, and he is very quickly wasted tbh. you're so nice though, and you drag him in the middle of everyone dancing and show him a few easy things and soon enough he's bouncing around with everyone else

every time he starts to think about what's going to happen tomorrow you're immediately there to distract him. it's almost like you can read his mind - you know just the right things to say and how to push people out of the way and he just thinks you're perfect under the flashing lights

finally when it's time to go home, he knows for a fact he can't show up at his place looking messed up as he is - what if Spencer or Birkin or some nameless Umbrella employee saw him and ratted him out? so he takes your offer to go to your house gracefully as he can this drunk

he knows now that you're a party expert, you immediately make him drink water and wash his face and take preemptive tylenol for the hangover. your fleeting kiss and warm hands on his sweaty skin are so sweet he can't bear to think about it longer than he has to. he knows he should leave before you wake up tomorrow and forget this wonderful night ever happened (he'll never forget you, not even on his deathbed)

you give him every courtesy and kindness you can offer and he decides to take just one more, one last sweet touch to take with him into the night. you smile sleepily and open your arms for him to fall into - the blanket covering his shoulders is a little too hot and you both smell like beer and liquor and sweat but your lap is so soft, it makes the ache in his back and shoulders from carrying the world lessen a bit, and your fingers in his hair send him into a beautiful and silent sleep

the next morning it physically pains him to untangle from your body on the couch. he stands and watches you for a moment, his heart clenching and pounding in his chest, until he forces himself out the door before you can feel his absence.

when he meets you again, what feels like a thousand years later, his heart pounds just the same. you recognize him, his twisted dark smirk and deep eyes, and when you smile and say his name he's suddenly twenty-something all over again and dizzy and drunk in your arms - he never wants to leave you again

[marvelsmylife]

Say something

Pairing: Brennan Sorrengail x reader

Plot: you start to ignore Brennan after he scoffs at your suggestion in front of the entire assembly, only for him to agree with the same suggestion when another member agrees with it.

A/n I promise one day I’ll write a happy Brennan story (today is not the day)

Masterlist

Request

Brennan was at a loss for words. You were actively avoiding him for the past few months and he was trying to figure out why. Every time he tried to be alone with you, you would make an excuse to leave. You even stopped sleeping in the same room with him and that’s when he knew he had to corner you and confront you on what’s going on.

It was a cool spring night when Brennan managed to corner you in the room you moved into a few weeks ago. He was growing frustrated because you kept telling him everything was fine. “No, everything is not fine,” Brennan snapped “We haven’t spent time together in months. Fuck, you even moved out of our room a few weeks ago. Tell me what I did to make you avoid me.”

You let out a shaky breath as you finally replied, “You ignored my ideas during the assembly meetings.”

“That’s what you’re mad about?” Brennan regretted saying that immediately.

Your eyes grew cold as you glared at Brennan, “Yes ! ! !” you shouted, “Do you know how embarrassing it is to have your significant other shut down your idea, only to have someone else copy what they said word for word but because they were the ones that said it, you suddenly agreed to it.”

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I did that,” Brennan stuttered as he recalled that day in his mind. His eyes shuttered close as remembered the distraught look on your face when he agreed to the same plan being suggested by a man above your rank. The same plan he quickly shut down without letting you explain the reasoning behind it.

Staring at you now, he noticed the exhausted look on your face. The sparkle that was once in your eyes was gone, replaced with an indifferent stare. “Tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix us,” Brennan begged, desperately trying to find a solution to the problem he created.

You took a deep breath as you braced yourself before saying the thing that would probably destroy you both, “Give me space. Being around you all the time and having you undermined me is making me resent you.”

Brennan felt his throat dry up at your words. He already knew he messed up, but he didn’t know he messed up so badly to the point you were resenting him. “Ok. I’ll give you space, but please promise me something. Promise you won’t end things between us. I know I fucked up but I love you and want to work this out.”

“Ok,” you replied.

He knew he shouldn’t, but Brennan walked up to you and placed a lingering kiss on your lips. Not knowing if that was going to be the last kiss you ever shared. “I love you, and I’m so sorry things between us have gotten so bad. I promise I’ll make things right,” Brennan whispered against your lip.

“I hope so,” you whispered before opening the door and ushering for Brennan to leave.

[vhagarys]

Thunderstorms and Lightning

aunt!helaena x reader

summary: Your childhood best friend was to marry her brother Aegon. You would give the world to be in his place.

warnings: canon-typical incest, angsty, reader loves helaena (and it’s mutual), yearning <|3

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She was so beautiful.

You watched in awe as your aunt descended the steps into the throne room, a halo of light seemed to cling to her frame.

Her delicate frame had been woven with a forest green gown, long sleeves with a heart-shaped neckline showcased her curves deliciously. A thin veil with small silver and gold dragons were littered across the sheer fabric, effectively covering her face.

You forced your eyes away. It was improper to ogle at the soon-to-be queen, though you couldn’t seem to avert your gaze.

Helaena would be wed to your uncle Aegon. Your fingers itched to reach out and stop her as she walked past.

As if you were observing a specimen in a museum, you could observe but could not touch.

Since childhood, you had quite the close relationship with Helaena. Her being only five years your elder, you spent much of your adolescence scavenging for bugs in the garden, failing miserably at high Valyrian, and sneaking out of the castle during the night together.

After Aegon was named heir to the iron throne, your time with Helaena began to slowly dwindle away. You knew she had no desire to be queen, yet her mother deemed it necessary to strengthen her families namesake.

News of her marriage was an illness that left you bedridden for days. Strange, ugly feelings clawed their way up your throat, emotions you had not properly understood until after your mind began to mature.

This friendship you’d developed had morphed into something far deeper, far more intimate, in your eyes at least.

You loved her. You craved her.

And she had been taken from you.

Tidings of her marriage locked you in your chambers for what felt like a fortnight. By the third evening of you not leaving your chambers, your mother Rhaenyra softy knocked and entered.

While she knew of your sadness for your dear friend’s predicament, she was ignorant of the full scope of your despair.

“My sweet daughter, it pains me to see you in such a state. Come, you must eat,” she stroked the side of your cheek, a tinge of sadness at witnessing your state.

Turning away from your mother’s touch, you laid on your side, wishing to melt into the mattress.

Childish as it may be, a sliver of you had hoped she may have reciprocated your affections. You felt pathetic as you yearned from afar, foolishly clinging to the fairytale of you running away together and forgot your regal duties.

“He does not deserve her. He is cruel and a drunk, she is kind and gentle. This marriage will destroy her,” you murmured.

Your mother sighed, “I harbor similar feelings for my half brother, dear, but this union is in our families best interest. Surely you can understand this.”

You rolled back over to face her. Deep, indigo bags rested beneath your eyes, hair knotted and unwashed. You looked absolutely dreadful.

“You know she’ll be devastated if you do not attend,” your mother pleaded, her hands finding yours and gripping them warmly.

Scrunching your eyes tightly, you attempted to rub the dried tears and sleep from your eyes.

“I will be ready,” your handmaidens soon ushered in to prepare you for the day.

————-

As expected, the ceremony was an unsavory affair. Aegon adorned a shit-eating grin practically the entire time, and when he leaned in for a kiss you had to avert your gaze, repulsed.

At one point during the exhanging of vows, Helaena swept her eyes through the crowd, until they landed on you.

A ghost of a smile was all she could give, and you’d hope your eyes did all the talking for you. You supposed you deluded yourself to the reality of the situation.

Soon, the maester degreed them wed and were promptly paraded out of the throne room.

You grimaced as you looked down to see red marks in the shape of crescents in your palms.

“May I be excused, mother,” you asked as everyone began to file out of the room.

“You may, though the banquet begins at sundown, please do come. Thank you for being brave today, sweet girl,” your mother pulled you in an embrace.

Her words were heavy in your mind as you quickly retreated back to your room.

———-

Lords and ladies from all parts of the seven kingdoms had traveled far and wide to witness the royal wedding. Hundreds filled the various tables assembled in the banquet hall.

Your maidens had dressed you in your favorite gown, with subtle lace details sewn through the neckline and sleeve cuffs. In the valley between your breasts was an intricately embroidered gold dragon, symbolizing your beloved dragon Vermithor.

Ushering them out, you daringly added a final touch to your ensemble.

As children, you and Helaena had decided to make your own family crest in the form of a stag beetle.

“Many say these creatures bring good fortune to those who treat them kindly, others say they are an omen that summons thunderstorms and lightning,” Helaena mused as she watched the bug crawled up her arm.

You watched, fascinated. “Perhaps they can mean both. Let it bring good fortune to us and storms to those against us.” She snorted, amused with your dramatics.

“Absolutely genius. To the mighty house of the stag!” She held the beetle up to the light and you both broke into a fit of laughter at each others antics.

Placed right below your collarbone, you quickly attached the pendant she had made for you of the infamous creature.

Pleased with your appearance, you made your way into the room of festivities.

Your eyes instantly locked onto the bride of the evening, sat at the royal table with her brothers, mother, and grandfather.

She shone like a star, illuminating the expanse of the room with her shimmering gold dress. Her hair half-up, half-down, she was the epitome of regal beauty.

“Is everything alright, princess?” You were shaken out of your trance by Ser Criston Cole, who managed to sneak up behind you.

Clearing your throat, you nodded. “I’m quite alright, Ser Criston, thank you.”

You scanned over the room observing the trays of small foods and goblets of wine floating around the table. Absentmindley, you reached for a glass and took a large gulp, the bitterness making your eyes scrunch in displeasure.

I’m going to need a few of these to get through the evening, you snorted to yourself.

You greeted your mother, your father Daemon brought you in his embrace and murmured how you weren’t the only one who wished to be anywhere else but here.

That made you smile. You began to scavenge the trays for vegetable pastries and skewered chicken, a goblet permanently taking residence in your left hand as you had your fill of the food.

A few more sips and you finally mustered up the courage to approach the newly weds and pay your respects.

The mere five stair ascent felt daunting. Once you reached the final step you were met face to face with your beloved friend.

Time seemed to stop as her eyes locked on you.

You froze, words escaped you as all eyes fixated on your awkward form.

You’re supposed to bow, idiot.

You bent your legs and dropped your head.

“Congratulations, your Grace,” you sheepishly lifted your head to meet your uncle smiling mischievously at you.

He lifted his goblet in acknowledgment and took a gulp of the rich, red substance.

You shifted your gaze to Helaena. Bowing again you offered softly, “Congratulations, my Queen.”

There was a tinge of sadness in her eyes at your use of such formalities.

“Thank you, dear Y/N,” her eyes drifted across your tense form. Your hair fell loosely around you in soft curls, your violet eyes sparkled in the candlelight.

She’s so beautiful, Helaena fawned.

You tossed a piece of hair behind your back just in time for her to notice the shiny pendant atop your breast.

She grinned at the fond memory.

“You look lovely this evening, your grace,” you kindly offered. The tension was palpable as unspoken words lingered in the purgatory between you both.

You tried to hide the disappointment on your face when she offered a quick thank you and directed her attention back to her plate.

Before she could open her mouth, you turned to pay your respects to the rest of the table and quickly descended the steps once more.

You exhaled. I need a drink.

———

As the hours labored on, those still left in attendance soon dwindled down to your close family, everyone taking a seat at the shared table.

You had consumed about four goblets of the tart liquid, and were properly buzzed.

“A toast to Aegon and Helaena! May this union be blessed and fortuitous,” Otto toasted, everyone raising their glasses in acknowledgment.

“To Aegon and Helaena!” others parroted.

Your eyes shifted down, wishing to cannonball into your glass of wine and disappear into the liquid.

Emotional turmoil swirled dangerously through your conscious, it’s almost over.

Aegon loudly stood from his chair, slurring his words as he proclaimed, “To my beautiful wife, Helaena. I know this union will bring nothing but good fortune to our family. I plan to fulfill all of my duties as husband, especially after tonight’s celebrations,” he smirked suggestively.

Helaena’s cheeks grew pink at his suggestive words.

A blaze of annoyance surged through you as you witnessed the embarrassement on your friend’s face.

To everyone at the table, your vexation went unnoticed… Almost everyone.

Perceptive as ever, your uncle Aemond observed the irritation etched onto your features, fingers digging into your palms, eyes flitting back and forth from your goblet to his sister.

He was well aware of your interesting relationship with his sister. Tonight, he decided to test his theory.

Rising from his seat, Aemond decreed, “A toast to my niece and nephews, Jace, Luke, Joffrey, and Y/N. I have no doubts in my mind they too will bring fortune to our family through their marital unions. Though, I know how unfortunate it may be for at least one of you that my dear sister is no longer an option.”

He stared at you just long enough for you to realize his meaning. Your cheeks flared a hue of magenta.

You felt an absolute fool that your uncle could read you so easily.

When you dared to look up, you felt Helaena’s heavy gaze on you. As if you were one of her caged creatures, you felt her scrutiny tear you open from across the table.

Whether it was the buzz from the alcohol or the emotional damn finally bursting, you abruptly stood.

“To my dear aunt and uncle, I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you both in such good spirits. I can only pray to the gods that I may be blessed with such a happy union as yours. Cheers!” You emptied the rest of your cup and plopped back down into your seat.

Aemond smirked at your antics. You evaded Helaena’s gaze as you engaged in meaningless chatter with your brothers.

———

Soon, everyone began to retire to their chambers for the evening.

Sufficiently embarrassed with your performance tonight, you excused all of your maidens and locked the door behind you.

You sighed loudly, absolutely exhausted from today’s endeavors, and deliberating sneaking into the dragonpit and flying back to Dragonstone.

Perhaps in the morning.

Just as your fingers began to pull at the the laces of your dress, a soft knock rang from your door.

You rolled your eyes.

Cracking the door, you’d anticipated your mother or father may pay you a visit.

Helaena.

“May I come in for moment?”

She came to your chambers. On her wedding night.

You glanced nervously behind her, fearful of potential onlookers witnessing the pair of you.

“Shouldn’t you be with your husband on your wedding ni-”

“Y/N,” her eyes pleaded with yours.

You couldn’t deny your delight in seeing her. Opening the door wider, you allowed her in.

“It was a beautiful ceremony,” was all you could manage, voice barely above a whisper as you fixed your gaze on the tile floors.

She moved closer to you, until you felt her fingers graze the tips of yours, her warmth seeped into your skin.

“Look at me, please,” she begged. You obeyed.

Tears were gathered at her lash line, threatening to spill as she gripped your fingers harder.

Her violet orbs shimmered like amethysts in the soft glow of the evening. You loved her eyes.

“Y/N,” she started, and you couldn’t resist reaching up to catch the single tear that teetered over the edge.

Leaning into your touch, she continued.

“Today was very hard for me.”

“It was quite a special day, was it not?” the freckles on her cheeks had grown more prominent since adolescence.

The pad of your thumb began to lightly map each one of them, committing them to memory.

She broke away from you with a small shake of her head. Finding purchase on your bed, she buried her face in her hands.

“I did not want this,” she began to weep. You found yourself sitting next to her, hesitantly tracing circles on the silk fabric her back.

You wracked your brain for any words that may ease her pain. Your heart cracked at the sight before you.

The pair of you sat in silence, she shifted further into your embrace and you wrapped your arms around her trembling frame.

After several minutes her breathing began to even, your shoulder damp from the tears she spilled.

Your fingers moved up to her hair, and weaved through the curled silver tresses. You always loved to experiment on each others hair, practicing the most ridiculous styles that never failed to bring you both to tears from laughter.

You couldn’t help but smile at the fond memory. You were so engrossed in your thoughts the words escaped you before you could fathom the weight of them.

“I love you,” you whispered into her hair. As pathetic as it sounded, a weight of relief was lifted from your shoulders. You had finally mustered the courage to say it.

You felt her pull away, and your heart cracked at the inherent rejection.

Helaena cupped both of your cheeks, reddened eyes suddenly filled with the warmth you were used to seeing.

“I know.” she leaned and rested her forehead against yours.

“I love you, Y/N.” It was your turn to feel the tears form. You exhaled a deep breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in.

Before the consequences of your actions could stop you, you leaned in to unite your lips with hers.

She responded immediately, pouring her emotions into the kiss. Your lips moulded perfectly together, and you couldn’t help but indulge in the softness of her mouth, the sweet lingering of lemon cakes on her tongue.

It felt as though you were falling, plummeting towards the ground where you’ll meet your inevitable demise.

If this was the end, you wished to spend your last moments in her embrace.

The land below was much closer than anticipated, for a knock on the door felt like a bucket of cold water poured over you both.

Breaking away, you still felt the tether of your souls connected to one another. You stared deeply into her gaze, she smiled lovingly at you and nodded.

Desperate to keep her with you, you clutched you arms that began to retract.

Please don’t take her from me.

Helaena’s lips molded to yours one last time. Your fingers twitched, aching to feel her skin against yours again.

Your maid opened the door as Helaena stood abruptly from your bed.

Meekly, she bowed her head. “Apologies my princess, your Grace. The king requests your presence at once, my queen.”

“Of course, thank you dear,” Helaena turned to you and bowed.

“I hope you have a restful evening, princess,” the formalities a stark contrast to your previous engagement.

Painfully, you nodded.

“Thank you, your grace. Congratulations on your engagement.”

She reached over and tucked your silver hair behind you, lightly grazing the beetle pinned onto your gown.

Your heart beat erratically as she stared at the pendant, nervous as your maid awaited her at the entrance of the door.

Helaena leaned into you, a final tear traveled down her cheek as she whispered, “Naejot daomikydoso se ōños, Issa jorrāelagon.”

(To thunderstorms and lightning, my love)

ALICE TAKES ON ANGST?!?

— let me know your thoughts, I’m relatively new to writing angst

- enjoy!